The Thing About Weres

“Don’t confuse me for a hero, Tyrean.”

“Nor I, Hedi of Creemore.”

“Will Lexi die when I tear the Old Mage’s cyreath from his?”

Mad-one lifted a shoulder. “That depends on your brother’s will to live.”

I looked away and watched the wizard walk back and forth beneath the citadel of my soul. Rage and frustration had stripped away his pretense of being a kindly old grandfather. His eyes were slits, the wrinkles fanning outward in sharp emphasis.

A current of air, sweet scented as honeysuckle, swirled around my waist.

“What changed your mind?” I found myself asking her. “You weren’t going to help me at first.”

She tossed her head as the same zephyr of air teased her hair. “You said that you distrusted him. It was the first thing you’ve said of significance in my hearing. It suggests that you might not be the knave that you appear— and it was the statement that changed the course of both our lives.” Mad-one tilted her head. “Do not make me regret my choice. It would be wise to remember that I know the location of your citadel. I can touch it, and speak to you whenever I wish. With whatever voice I choose.”

Then the Mystwalker of Threall drew in a long breath. “Now, pass me our mage’s cyreath.”

Once I had, she walked past the old wizard’s illusion, head high. With a faint smile that had a definite gloating edge, she lowered herself to his chair. “I will keep my eyes trained on your brother’s cyreath. When his light begins to dim, I shall touch his tree and yours. Thus I will know when to meld our mage’s soul to your brother’s.”

She will know Lexi in ways I never will.

Me, too.

“There is no other way,” she said quietly.

She was right.

So, I closed my eyes to the portal, to the blue myst, to the swaying trees, to the girl who looked young but felt old. To all of it. Every sickening bit of it.

Think of home. All you have to do is want it. Imagine Creemore. The pond, the gentle hills. The home where my brother lay dying. The room where my mate stood waiting. Think of Cordelia in the kitchen, humming to her Bobby McGee. Imagine Harry knocking on the door, a sheaf of papers in his hands. Shake your head at Biggs, always a dollar late and a dollar short.

Sound began to fade.

I wavered between this world and the other.

Home.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Returning home came with a hurting pain right in my solar plexus. Again a fist thumped my chest, just about where my heart was. Then a hard male mouth covered mine. I caught the sweet aromas of woods, and spice, and yum. Trowbridge. Two puffs of air were forced into my mouth, filling lungs that I hadn’t realized were empty.

“Come on!” My mate gave me a good head-flopping shake. “Why did you do it? I told you never to go there,” he shouted right in my sensitive half-breed ear. His voice was thick with grief. “You come back to me, you understand? You come back to me.”

Home.

“Just hold me,” I mumbled into his neck. “Don’t let go.”

He went rigid. “Hedi?”

There went my sense of gravity. Suddenly, the nice warm chest was gone and I was being supported by a hard arm. Fierce blue eyes examined me. “You came back.” Trowbridge breathed. A vein throbbed at his temple.

“I really hope so,” I said.

Was that my voice? That wobbly little voice?

A shaking hand cupped my face. “Don’t you ever frighten me like that again,” he said in a low, kind of menacing voice. “You promise me that you’ll never do that again.” Then, to my astonishment—okay, you add up the number of days we’d spent together and tell me if I should have been prepared—my mate sank back on his heels and rocked me in his arms like I was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

Back and forth. Holding me tight, as if I might fly away.

I didn’t deserve it but I sure melted into it.

The only thing that could have improved his passionate outpouring of affection was an “I love you.” Just once before everything went to crap, I’d have liked to hear those three words one more time. But still, what he didn’t say, I could smell in his scent. Relief, frustration—and here’s a new one in connection with me—absolute joy, mixed with … what was that?

This was true love?

Trowbridge, you don’t know the half of what’s coming your way.

I turned my head and let my gaze roam the ring of faces. Cordelia stood closest, trying to look unmoved and falling well short. Biggs stood near the edge of the bed, chewing on his lower lip, hands deep in his pockets. Harry leaned against the door frame, one of his rare smiles creasing his age lines into deep seams.

Bad things will seep into this world.

Fae shit.

“Take me to the window,” I told Trowbridge, knowing that my legs wouldn’t hold me.

My mate didn’t ask why; he simply gathered me up and brought me to it. Took him one breath and six long strides. He’s a strong man, the Alpha of Creemore. I gazed out at the scene, my cheek resting on his muscled chest, my blistered paw curled loosely around Merry. Five cars parked along the long driveway. Freshly mown grass. Sweet. Fresh. Earthly. My mate’s heart beat like an athlete’s beneath my ear. Thump, thump. Beyond the cultivated edge of the property, where the wild began, pine trees swayed. Not a soul ball in them.

Home.

“That was quite a scare you gave us, Little Miss,” observed Harry, dragging the easy chair over to the window.

Trowbridge sat down on the arm of it, me still a burden in his arms.

How much heavier am I than a soul ball?

“Well, I for one am getting heartily tired of these theatrics,” snapped Cordelia. “I don’t know anyone else who can hold their breath as long as you can. You have got to stop doing that.”

Don’t let go of me.

“Shh, Cordelia,” Trowbridge murmured, smoothing my hair.

I’m going to miss this, I thought, letting him pet me. Don’t forget this—this perfect little slice of time. When you’re being held safe and sound, and people who care about you are flocked all around. Tucking your hair behind your ear. Clucking to hide their worry.

It wouldn’t last. Karma had engineered it so that I had to push someone I loved through those same damn gates, which was going to require me lying like there’s no tomorrow. And I knew what was going to follow that— I’d lose the family I didn’t even know I had until this moment.

My forearm ached from the devil’s spawn bite.

It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? I needed to minimize their culpability in the eyes of the pack. Which meant that I was going to have to spin a fib for Trowbridge—for his own good—because I couldn’t put him in the position of agreeing to release Lexi. My brother had stolen from the Alpha of Creemore. In front of witnesses. Urban gangs had nothing on Weres when it came to the subject of disrespect.

I’d have to lie to him.

And then I’d lose him.