It’s clear pretty quickly that Tala isn’t okay with things. I don’t know what the difference is between magic for finding things out, and the don’t-see-me thing Shelley wants to do on Tom. Tala’s finding it hard to explain. Something about it having seemed okay to look at something that was already there, but not to do something new. That, and her father would be unhappy with her if he ever found out, which is the part of her explanation that makes most sense to me. It’s obvious she’s trying really hard not to just call us all wrong in the eyes of her religion, but I think that’s the real problem.
It’s Shelley who’s the most understanding. “Of course you have to stay true to what you believe in. Personal integrity is important. We won’t reject you for it. We’ll admire you for it. If you don’t think you can watch, we can get you a taxi, or you and Ella could go and make sandwiches in the kitchen?”
I am not expecting to find Nick hovering urgently after the performance, right at the door to the break room, ready to pounce before I can go. “Sarah, splendid, lovely, you don’t need to rush off do you?”“It is rather late,” I point out.“I’m sure it won’t take too long. Customer satisfaction, you know? They pay our salaries, have to keep them happy,” he waffles, which is Nick code for “One of our major sponsors is making noises about pulling out, please charm them into sticking around.”“Am I to know their name?” Perhaps it is more than one, or a married couple. Some people would feel insulted if you didn’t know their partner’s name. &ldquo
“Tala?” I’m still not sure how I do what I’m doing. I’m just thinking about who I want to talk to over the Link, and that’s seemed to work. It’s not working now though. Tala doesn’t answer. She’s looking at me intently, though.I remember my fathers reaction, when I couldn’t hear him. The feel of his hand when he slapped me, the first time. The crushing sense of rejection and failure. I don’t care if Tala can’t hear me and can never hear me, if she wants to be part of the Pack then she is part of the Pack, and I won’t ever let anyone say anything else.The others are curious. I can hear their questions.
“Sarah, I’ve gotta “Aiden, I havetell you-” to tell you-”“-Sorry, you first-” “-After you-”“-It’s nothing bad,” “-It is something“Okay? Just- good, don’t worry-”“-We could-” “-shall we-”“-Let’s-”“-You-”
“This feels silly,” I confess. Sarah is sprawled back against the pillows, her hair splayed out in an aura about her head. Her feet are in my lap as I sit cross-legged on the end of the bed. Her toenails are painted silver, sparkling gently in the dimmed light of the bedroom. She’s given me a pot of body cream to use, something that smells of sandalwood, bergamot and jasmine. The scent fills the room as soon as I take the lid off, woody and spicy.“It’s not hard. Dab some of the cream on your hands. Rub them together to get it nice and warm.”The heat makes the scent even stronger, mingling with Sarah’s own natural moss and resin. I fill my lungs with it. Maybe that’s not the best thing to do, because my jeans are going to get pretty uncomfortable if I keep doing that.
Aiden seems a little preoccupied over breakfast, and it becomes clear why when he leans forwards a bit over his coffee. “Uh, so. Did you want to talk to the rest of the Pack before you meet them? Because there’s the phone, or the Pack link. I don't know what you’d prefer.” I give the question some thought. It seems more personal to speak mind to mind than to meet in person. Do I want to jump straight in with that? The others all met before the Pack was formed. They were friends first. Aiden and I, we met in the flesh before anything else happened. Then again, how often have I thought that interactions would go differently if people could speak to me first, without seeing me? Even some of those who do their best not to be prejudiced still seem to struggle with treating me no differently than anyone else. Would it be better to strip away the visible surface and
Nothing happens. Does the time of day, or night, make a difference? It has never seemed to bother Bellmouth, but he’s a dog. The Horseman’s horse only seems to appear at night, although the Horseman himself has shown up at other times. Perhaps the rules for each ghost are different? The kettle is boiling. I reach to get down a mug, turn back to the kettle, and end up almost dropping the mug. Mary is standing there, looking at the kettle with a mixture of distrust and fascination. The kettle at Backmarsh heats on the hob, I remember. Mine here is electric and has no visible means of heating. “It’s not magic,” I tell her. “The base there, it’s something like a warming pan that you’d put hot coals in. It’s not exactly the same. It uses the same stuff that the lights use, instead of coals, and that heats the water in the jug.”
It turns out I get a chance to speak to the Goldhawk Pack before the shopping trip. It’s kind of by accident. Mr Patel mentioned that we were down on stock because the delivery van had broken down, and I recognised the road name where the van was stuck. He was worried that someone would break into it overnight, because they couldn’t get anyone out to fix it until the next day. I volunteered to go check on it. So that’s how I come to be in Goldhawk territory for work. Paid to be there and everything. I’ve got a list of the more valuable stuff that’s still small enough to fit into the backpack I’ve been given. I don’t have to get it back to the shop tonight, just make sure it’s safe. I should track down that liquor thief and thank him for helping me land such a great job. I go tap on the door of the Pack house. I h
That was probably a stupid idea. The threat level in the room just jumped from zero to eight. Maybe nine. Not ten, because nobody has attacked me. Yet. “Just so you know,” I say out loud, “anyone can choose not to hear me. I can’t force you to listen. You can block me out. I’m here to help, not to take charge.”Russel in particular still looks furious. Christy places her hand on his arm.“Think about this,” I say quickly, before someone tries taking a swing at me. “Haven’t you ever had to meet with a werewolf from another Pack to talk, when you’d much rather have been able to do it at a distance? Had times when things went bad because someone snapped and lashed out, mostly because the other person was right there in front of them? Or wanted to be able to talk to someone, couldn’t trust the
*** Some Time Later...*** “/Aiden? Can you hear me? Aiden? Please?/” “/Huh? Who? Imogen? That you?/” I really wasn't expecting to hear from my sister. Not this way. A text, sure. I’ve been bad at texting her, despite my promises. A message from her complaining about it wouldn’t surprise me. “/Aiden, thank the Goddess!/” Is she crying? My little sister? “/Imogen, what’s wrong
Everything is downhill now. Goldhawk’s mission is over pretty much as soon as they arrive. Everything else for them is just meeting people, and that doesn’t need much organisation. It’ll happen, with Badger’s Den giving them somewhere to stay for the night. The two new Mates are going to want the visit to go on longer, but Mark will need to get back. Either Paul will stay behind, or Caroline will visit London, probably. I hope it forces Ian into doing something. Join, Challenge, I don’t care as long as it becomes his job to keep the kids out of trouble until they’re a couple of years older. I finally get a bit of time without someone wanting me to do something,or decide something, or explain something. I prop myself against the wall of the building, and stuff my hands in my pockets. There’s a papery crinkle. I pull out the folded sheet, and remember why I put
“Never rains but pours,” I sigh, linking my arm through Aiden and kissing his cheek with sympathy. “Or is it no rest for the wicked? My poor sweet Mate, pour yourself onto the quadbike, Reese can drive you to meet them, and I’ll come on one of the horses. Timothy’s perfectly capable of seeing our unwanted guests off, we can leave Shelley, Mary and Tom with him. Baxter too, unless he’s already seen more of Black than he wants to.”Aiden leans into me. I can fee him collecting himself before he speaks. “Goldhawk are here to talk to Badger’s Den anyway. I’ll talk to Caroline, or that other one, the one they had as spokesman. Let them know to expect guests and see if they can put the visitors up somewhere.”I elect myself to update Timothy and put him in charge of things in the village, and to give T
“Fly?” I swap a puzzled look with Sarah. “That’s not one I know about. Command any werewolf, speak to any werewolf like a Pack link. And immunity to silver. Sort of. Still hurts like a… still hurts, but it’ll heal up as fast as any other wound, won’t knock me out. Been like that since forever.”Ian harrumphs. First time I’ve heard someone actually do that. “How long is forever?”“Few thousand years at least. Far back as I can remember any lives. Not that I’ve remembered all of them, there's way too many.”“That’s not a problem most werewolves have,” Ian says quietly, frowning. “What’s your… plan? Your intentions. Your Majesty.”I can feel my sho
The earth is cool under my butocks and Aiden is a furnace above me. I’m pinned on the ground with my jeans around my ankles and I can’t quite remember how I got there. Rough bark tugs at my hair and prints itself into the back of my wrists. Urgent, demanding hands ruck my shirt and bra up and free my breasts.“Please. I need you.” Aiden’s voice is soft and pleading. His hands, his body, they are anything but. They don’t plead. They demand, they take. One hand tangles with my hair and wrists, yanking stray hairs, splitting fragments of bark from the tree bole beneath and behind us. The tang of sap fights against the musk of sweat and desire. Aiden’s hips thrust between my legs and my back scrapes against the dirt and leaves and brown pine needles beneath us.He’s inside me already, driving hard and fast. His sweat
An angry opponent makes mistakes.That’s what my father and Caleb never understood. Anger is a weapon to their thinking, not a liability. Black is cast from the same mould. I’ve wound him up by staying calm, by being polite, and most of all by humiliating him, and he can’t see clearly through the red mist of fury. He’s three hundred pounds of muscle and rage, as unstoppable, dangerous and terrifying as a runaway locomotive, charging down on me. His free hand is out with claws ready, blocking any escape. Blinding sunlight flashes from the silver of his blade as it sweeps down.Now, Frost whispers, lending me his speed. I slip beneath Black’s raised elbow, drawing a line of fire across his exposed stomach with my sword. I spin and dance backwards as Black skids and stumbles before he crosses the outside edge of the duelling square. &
Black’s arrogance wins out over any caution he might have. He signals to one of the werewolves with him, announcing his Second.“What’s he playing at?” Baxter mutters when he realises that Aiden isn’t just buying time with Black’s Challenge, but is actively looking to fight that way.Baxter isn’t Pack, not yet, not officially. I doubt I can speak to him with the Pack link. It’s Aiden himself who can do that. I don’t even want to risk whispering. Werewolves have good hearing. I nudge his arm, to get his attention, and take my phone out.Aiden is considering Baxter as a Packmate. Blackmarsh trusts him. I don’t think Aiden will mind. “immune 2 silver” I type. “knows sword”. I turn the screen so Baxter can see it but, hopefully, nobody e
Nothing’s ever simple. Now I’ve got Caroline to look after. It’s irresponsible to bring her along, but it’d be worse telling her to stay out of it and expecting her to obey. There’s Alphas that nobody would dare disobey. My father, for example. I’m not him. “/Am I a bad Alpha?/” I make sure it’s just my Pack hearing that. The Peace Seekers. They’re not the right people to ask though. None of them are werewolves. “/You think we’d let you stick around if you were, boss?/” Sarah reaches over to give my hand a squeeze. “/If this is about Caroline, you said it yourself, if you tried sending her away
I’ve never really watched war films. I’ve never really been that interested. It feels as if I’m in one now, although I have no idea how accurate that thought is. We’ve crossed the nature reserve as if it’s enemy territory, constantly on the alert even though we’re keeping to the public paths, so we’re not, technically, on Badger’s Den territory. “If we’re talking technicalities, that would be Aiden’s territory anyway,” Reese points out when I mention it. We see neither hide nor hair of the Pack that claims the surrounding land, and veer out of the reserve into farmland where we are coming up on the small coastal village where Baxter says he’s being held. It looks like one of those lost-in-time places where cosy TV murders are set, except half the houses are holiday cottages now and empty for most of the year. It’s ever so slightly spooky, riding past bl