They hadn’t been seen in this area for a long while. Weres stayed clear of them for the most part, although some packs sent their wolves inside the organization to make sure the hunters were on the up-and-up. For the most part, any Weres that worked with hunters were seen as disloyal. Weres made their own laws and they didn’t want—or need—humans policing them.
So far, hunters had proven to be evenhanded, on the up-and-up, but Rogue knew that most organizations started out like that. Absolute power corrupted absolutely and all that crap. He’d seen history repeat itself on a loop like
He watched in silence as the group, who all bore the traditional hunter bow-and-arrow tattoos on the backs of both hands, met in a tight group. They were discussing Gillian, which was unsurprising, considering the five- million-dollar bounty was the news of the day, but as Rogue listened, it appeared they were simply patrolling the area, not looking for trouble—or Gillian.
“Listen, if they’re giving away that money, better that we find Gillian Blackwell and not the trappers or the Weres. At least we’ll bring her in safely,” one of the men was saying.
“I don’t disagree that we’re the best ones for the job, but I won’t pull us off our posts to hunt for her. If we come across her, we save her, deliver her to her parents before any harm comes to her,” another man said. “Beyond that, we’ve got a job to do.”
There were four humans in all, three men and one woman, not a Were among them. And they seemed serious and capable and Rogue wondered what would happen if he and Cain stepped out in front of them. That would tell the tale for sure.
But neither wolf did, their own sense of self-preservation more ingrained than that.
It was only after the hunters passed and he and Cain ran for several more hours did Rogue realize he hadn’t seen a single spirit. Not a real one, anyway, but it had gotten to the point where he’d begun to realize that his flashbacks of his time spent in hell might not be flashbacks after all.
Maybe, for the first time in his life, the spirits were as scared of him as he was of himself.
Chapter 13
The roof was the second-best place for this discussion. Jinx would’ve much preferred the woods, but everyone was on high alert looking for Gillian and her five-million-dollar self. So Jez would go out hunting around, making sure the monsters from purgatory weren’t out and about, and Jinx wondered if Rogue would be too.
When Rogue saw the monsters for himself, Jinx knew he’d hear from his twin. For now, he led Gillian to the rooftop terrace where he’d laid out Chinese food and beers and for the better part of an hour, they ate and laughed a little. She’d spent the day parked in front of the TV, getting angry with each sentence her parents spoke, but she hadn’t mentioned it yet.
Instead, she curled her feet up on the chair, her bare feet under her, beer balanced on her thigh. “That was great. Thanks.”
“Welcome.” He drained his own beer. It would take him at least a case to feel any kind of drunk, and tonight, he’d welcome that. He thought about Rifter—he could’ve gone to his king, asked what it was like to have to tell a woman who thought she was human that she wasn’t. Could’ve asked Gwen’s advice too. Hell, Gwen might be the best person to give this talk.
But Jinx’s wolf didn’t want anyone near Gillian. Brother was . . . attached. And ready to attack anyone who got in his way.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked finally. “I know you’re restless.”
Indeed, when she wasn’t staring at the TV screen, she’d been pacing so much he was sure she wore the floor down.
“I’ve got a lot of energy lately,” she admitted. “I wish I could go for a walk.”
He nodded in understanding, but they both knew it wasn’t possible, not with the amount of scrutiny her picture was receiving at this moment. Even if she cut her hair and dyed it, covered her eyes with contacts, he had an odd feeling she’d still be discovered.
And she’d told him she didn’t relish the thought of walking around in a disguise for the rest of her life. If it came down to it, however, she would do it before she ever went back to her parents or the hospital.
“I have a few things I need to know about you,” he started, breaking her from her reverie. She stared at him with something akin to disappointment in her eyes, but not surprise. She had to have known he’d need to know about all of it sooner or later. And maybe because he’d saved her or maybe for other reasons he didn’t yet know, she said, “You want to know more about why I was in that institution to start with.”
“Only if you want to talk about it.”
She shrugged, and he knew she’d rather talk about anything else. But learning her symptoms was an important lead-in. “I was always a little hard for them to handle. My mother always looked at me like I was some alien who’d landed on her doorstep. When I started to refuse to wear the fussy dresses, she shipped me off to a boarding school. I didn’t mind that so much. But when I came back for summer vacations, that was the worst. The year I turned seventeen, I was doing the same things as others in my so-called social circle—running around, drinking, smoking. Making out with boys . . . did you just growl?”
He touched his canines with his tongue, keeping his mouth closed because they’d extended.
But Brother didn’t differentiate. “Just clearing my throat. So yeah, basically what teenage girls do.”
“Right,” she said, casting a doubting look at him. “I mean, I had my parents’ money behind me, so my idea of partying was probably more extensive. I felt indelible, like I couldn’t get hurt or in trouble. My behavior was wild—and it was escalating. Staying out all night, taking lots of dangerous risks. I had the means to get out of any kind of trouble.”
But whatever happened made her face grow dark with the memory. He wanted to wipe that pain away, stop her from thinking about it, but this was important shit. He had to know it.
She sighed, grabbed a second beer but held it instead of drinking it. “I’d had a lot of shots that night. I was spinning. I was high as well, but the weird thing was, I don’t think the drugs were actually making me feel the way I did.”
“How’s that?”
“Indestructible. I got behind the wheel of a car and I ended up crashing into a telephone pole. I was so lucky because I could’ve killed someone. As it was, I broke my legs and spent time in the hospital recovering. My parents told me they were placing me under psychiatric care because of the drugs and drinking, and I agreed. I felt so guilty. I was dangerous. They’d been warning me to get myself under control for months and months and I just kept ignoring them. I thought the hospital could fix me, but things got worse. I knew that I’d never be released. No one could figure out what was wrong with me. I didn’t respond to meds. I couldn’t just behave, no matter how much I wanted to. After a while, they placed me in a long-term facility and I figured I’d be there forever.”
“Plenty of kids are wild, Gilly, but not all of them get sent to psych wards.”
“I was clawing at the walls. One night, I woke up howling. I jumped through windows. I would get bursts of anger and adrenaline and throw tables at the staff. I was uncontrollable at times,” she told him in a burst of angry confession. “None of that’s normal.”
It was. His heart broke for just how damned normal it was, but she continued. “I feel like I’m two people. Gillian—the girl who just wants to find a boyfriend and have fun and this other person who likes to run naked and lately, it’s like they’re blending and it’s getting harder and harder to separate them and I hear this voice—it tells me things. It calms me. The doctors said I’m the right age for schizophrenia to manifest.”
He put his hand over hers, his palm searing heat onto her skin. “I can promise you that you’re not schizophrenic. That you don’t have any mental illness.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you can’t. Genetically. Physically. You do not get mentally ill or get any other diseases.”
Maybe Gillian had been right the first time—Jinx did belong back in that mental ward. She could go back with him and they could grow old together there. Because that was all she wanted—to be together with him.
At least he appeared to want the same thing.
