Silver (21 page)

I looked around at the faces and saw a
mixture of confusion, distrust, and in some places a touch of pity
which surprised me. I hadn’t said all that I wanted to, but I hoped
maybe it was enough. I nodded. “Thank you.”

Talking erupted as soon as the door shut
behind me. I paced the floor and tried not to listen in. The burns
around my wrists tingled, which I hoped meant they were already
healing. Fresh air drifted in under the poorly fit outer door to
the warehouse. I stepped toward it, toying vaguely with the idea of
running before the Hunters could throw away my case and kill me
instead, but a shadow crossed the thin beam of sunlight. I froze
and listened. Footsteps, soft and steady. I was under guard. I felt
trapped, cornered.

I forced my rising heartbeat to slow and
surveyed the small room. Sawdust lay in piles in the corners, but
whatever machinery had created it had been taken away long ago. A
mouse squeaked in the darkness and its tail vanished inside a hole
where two walls met. The roof was high with beams crossing each
other well above where I could reach. I could try jumping, but
worried about the sound it would make and if I could climb fast
enough with my wounds.

The square panel windows were covered in
cobwebs and layers of dust, and the dawn light that filtered
through was weak. Particles spun and danced along the beams as if
in time to music I couldn’t hear. I held out a hand and watched the
light splay on the floor around my shadow, lost for a moment in the
simplicity of light and darkness. I thought of the battle between
werewolves and Hunters and wished that in real life it could be
that simple. But if so, I couldn’t decide which side would be
darkness and which one light.

The door opened sooner than I expected. The
Hunter that opened it dropped his eyes to avoid meeting mine.
Commander Rogart beckoned to me from inside the room. I stood in
the door and waited a minute, knowing that if I did enter again and
the atmosphere was hostile it might be the last move I made. But
Commander Rogart’s gun was back in its holster, and Meg and Roger’s
expressions were somewhat hopeful. I glanced back once at the light
streaming through the windows, took a calming breath, and walked
forward.

My footsteps echoed over the wooden floor,
strangely loud in such a crowded but silent room. I stopped a few
feet from Commander Rogart and waited quietly.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and a faint
smile touched his lips. “You’re awfully brave for a werewolf.”

I smiled wryly. “I was just thinking you're
pretty brave for a Hunter.”

He stared at me in surprise, then laughter
shook his shoulders and he chuckled until tears sparkled in his
eyes. Several other Hunters in the audience joined in, and like
that, tension fled the room. Commander Rogart smiled. “You’re okay,
kid.”

“
I tried to tell you I
wasn't a threat when I got here,” I replied.

He chuckled again and nodded. “And perhaps
that would be our downfall if we didn’t have reason to trust two
seasoned Hunters such as Roger and Megan Valen. They vouched for
your integrity and said you even saved their daughter from an
attack by a pack of werewolves. Are these a part of the group
you’re worried about?”
I nodded. “Getting there. I’m worried Mason will have control of
them soon if we don’t do something.”

He nodded thoughtfully and paced a few steps
away, then turned and came back. He studied me as though debating
whether he could trust me, then seemed to make up his mind. “Our
discussions have revealed that several in this group have worked
with Mason.” My heartbeat quickened and I looked at the watching
Hunters. Several dropped their eyes and looked away, but one or two
met my gaze defiantly.

I took a deep breath and turned back to
Commander Rogart. “Okay. I’ll try not to hold that against
them.”

He smiled again so wide this time he showed
pearly white teeth. “Then I think this’ll work out just fine.” He
beckoned me closer. “I assume you have a plan?”

I nodded and began to map it out. Hunters
rose from their chairs and surrounded us in order to hear better. I
fought off a wave of uneasiness with so many of them near me, but
Meg and Roger stood at my back, Roger’s hand resting reassuringly
on my shoulder. The Hunters listened carefully, several chiming in
to add suggestions.

Two hours had passed by the end of the
meeting. I walked out of the main room of the warehouse and felt as
though something more than just a meeting with Hunters and a lone
werewolf had been accomplished.

I stopped by the door and turned. “No hood
and cuffs this time?” I asked the Commander who followed close
behind.

He smiled again, his expression softer. “Do
you know where we are?”

I nodded. “By the warehouses, the scent of a
few scrappy pines and some aspen, and a bracken smell from a large
body of water that must empty fairly slowly, I’d say we were near
Thirty and the Loop.”

His eyebrows rose appreciatively and he
chuckled. “No need for the hood and cuffs then.”

I pushed the door open. The morning light
spilled in and turned the lonely piles of old sawdust into
miniature hills of gold. I lifted my face to it and took a deep
breath, then walked down to the waiting car.

Chapter 19

By the time we got home I was late for
school, so I took the day off and unpacked some boxes so Mom would
feel like I had accomplished something while she was gone. I put
the vase with the three plastic yellow roses Dad had given Mom when
he proposed to her in the middle of the table where it had been at
our last house until she began to use real flowers; I hung Mom’s
picture of a patchwork chicken above the stove, and put the plates
away in the cupboards. Mom would be glad we didn’t have to use
paper ones anymore.

The things I unpacked had been from our old
storage unit back home, things Mom hadn’t wanted to throw away when
we cleaned out the garage, but had to be moved to make room for the
car. These boxes were what remained of our past life, and somehow
putting them up made it feel a little bit more like home.

Night slowly fell, and I felt the call of
the moon although it wouldn’t be full for another three weeks. I
debated phasing and taking a quick run before the date, but shook
off the urge with the thought that Mason was out there somewhere
with his growing pack, and they would love an opportunity just like
this to pick off another Alpha.

I knocked on Nikki’s door an hour later. She
threw it open before my hand was back down, wrapped her arms around
my neck, and hugged me tight. She was shaking and I realized then
how much she had truly feared for my life.

I smoothed her hair. “It’s okay, Nikki; I’m
okay,” I reassured her.

She nodded, her face buried in my shoulder.
“My parents said it went well,” she replied, her voice muffled,
“But it could have gone so badly.”

“
I know.” A tremor ran up
my spine at the thought of standing cuffed and hooded in the
warehouse full of armed Hunters. I shook my head. “Thank goodness
it’s over now.”

She looked up at me. “So they’ll fight for
you?”

I nodded. “I think we’ll have a chance
now.”

She gave me a relieved smile, glanced over
her shoulder into the living room, and grabbed something off the
side table by the door. “I almost forgot,” she said, her eyes
shining. “I have a surprise for you.”

She led the way to the detached garage and
pulled it open. A red motorcycle with two helmets hanging from the
handlebars stood where the car usually was. She glanced back at me.
“Mom and Dad needed the car for some Hunter business. They said we
could take the bike.”

I stared. “You know how to drive that
thing?”

She laughed. “Dad’s taken me on it since I
was a baby, much to Mom’s horror.” She tossed me a helmet and
climbed on.

I shook my head and sat behind her. “So your
repayment for me saving your life is to put mine in danger?”

She laughed again and kick started it. “It
has been a while since I’ve driven,” she shouted over the noise of
the engine.

I grinned. “Now you tell me!”

She rolled the throttle and we shot out of
the garage. I grabbed her waist to keep from being thrown off, and
leaned into the turn as she rounded a corner of the road. She
laughed, a carefree sound that made my breath catch, and shifted
quickly to fourth. Before long, we were winding our way up a road I
hadn't been on. Trees grew on either side of the two-lane road and
towered over the top, blocking out the stars. The motorcycle’s
headlight bounced along the trunks, giving the impression that we
were driving through a living tunnel.

Nikki manipulated the turns as though she
had been that way many times before. She slowed when the road
narrowed, then turned off onto a poorly paved road that continued
through the hills. We eventually stopped before an intricately
worked metal gate about a half mile in. Bars curved in the shape of
wings flowed from the center and smaller wires wrapped around them
like vines complete with thorns and metal leaves. Nikki shut off
the engine and I took off my helmet, grateful to have my feet back
on the ground and realizing at the same time that I didn’t enjoy
having someone else in control.

“
What is this place?” I
asked her.

“
You’ll see,” she said
mysteriously over her shoulder. She pushed the gates open wide
enough to slip under the chain that locked them together, then
turned on a flashlight and started through the trees.

I ducked in after her and stared at the
magnificent trees that made up the forest behind the gate. These
trees were older than the ones we had ridden through. They towered
high above, ancient oaks, maples, aspen, and others I didn’t know
the name of but recognized by their smell. Nikki followed an
overgrown path through the trees and I hurried to catch up.

She touched a trunk here and there as if
they were old friends. Bushes grew thick beneath the trees so
visibility beyond the path was limited to a few feet. We came upon
a little clearing about five minutes up the path. A concrete statue
stood in the middle surrounded by wildflowers. Nikki took a few
steps toward the statue, then stopped and turned off the
flashlight. The figure was illuminated by the waning moon.

“
Is this a cemetery?” I
asked, uncertain.

She shook her head. “A garden of saints.” I
walked to stand behind her and she smiled up at me. “I found it
about a year ago. I come here whenever I need some peace in my
life.”

“
So you’ve been here a
lot,” I said seriously.

She nodded and leaned back into my chest. I
wrapped my arms around her and she sighed. “It’s peaceful
here.”

I nodded. Even the breeze felt reverent the
way it flowed around us warm and soft as though a sigh from heaven.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The peace of the quiet
woods chased away some of the torment of my rushing thoughts. Nikki
stepped out of my arms and took my hand. I followed her along the
winding path through the trees and past several more statues, all
in various states of being taken by the forest surrounding them.
Moss grew up the gray carved robes of one figure, while vines
twisted up another. Leaves carpeted the ground around each and
flowers and shrubs rose from the forest floor as if in their own
praise of the ancient saints.

The path cleared again and a saint formed of
white concrete with birds on his arms and a deer at his feet stood
before us. The statue itself was unimpressive; sticks had been
entwined in the crook of one arm to create a nest that now stood
empty. Branches fallen from a windstorm leaned on one side of the
statue, and parts of its face had been worn away by the weather so
that its features were mostly indistinguishable. But something
about the way the cement birds and the deer had been crafted caught
my attention.

“
Which saint is this?” I
asked quietly.

Nikki smiled and touched one of the deer’s
ears. “Saint Francis of Assisi, patron saint of the animals.” She
petted one of the carved birds lightly. “It was said that he saved
a town from a wolf by making them friends instead of enemies.”

I smiled and stepped into the clearing. “Oh
really?”

“
According to legend,” she
replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

She sat down in the thick grass and patted
the ground near her invitingly. “Sounds like a good legend,” I
said, eying the statue.

She nodded. “It would be handy, wouldn’t
it?”

“
For a saint to come tell
the werewolves and humans to play nice?” She nodded again and I
gave a small smile. “It definitely would.”

She glanced at me out of the corner of her
eye. “Do you think it’ll ever happen?”

I hesitated at the hint of hope in her voice
and spoke carefully, “My dad always said that anyone could get
along as long as there is mutual trust.”

She fell silent for a few minutes. “Then
that’s the problem,” she then said quietly. She picked up a twig
and ran it through the blades of grass.

I turned to face her, surprised at the
sadness of her tone.

“
There will never be
trust,” she said, avoiding my eyes.

I caught her chin gently and tipped her head
so that she looked at me. Tears filled her eyes when they met mine
and sparkled in the moonlight. “Werewolves like your uncle and
Hunters like my parents make it impossible.”

I let go of her chin and frowned. “My uncle
can be stopped, and your parents’ actions were justified. I can’t
blame them for reacting how they did.” My stomach lurched as I
thought of my dad and my own reaction. “I’ve done the same
thing.”