The Dark-Hunters (329 page)

As every second ticked by and nothing odd happened—like he didn’t cease to exist—Wren began to wonder about that. “No … Yes … Maybe? Since I’m not dead now, I’m not sure anymore. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, wouldn’t I have died when you came through the door?”

His father let out an exasperated sigh. “You still haven’t mastered your powers?”

Anger flashed deep inside him. How dare his father judge him lacking? He wasn’t a callow cub anymore. He was an adult who was more than able to take care of himself, and he resented his father thinking otherwise. “I could take you down, old man, and not blink or flinch.”

His father looked at him with pride in his eyes. A slow smile curved his lips. “But you don’t time jump?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I was told a long time ago that it wasn’t in my best interest to learn it.”

“Why?”

“He was raised in Sanctuary,” Maggie said. “There are a lot of people who want Wren dead.”

Wren narrowed his eyes on his father in case he misunderstood Maggie’s words. “Not that I’ve ever feared a fight or backed down from one—”

“That’s the truth,” Maggie inserted. “I swear he’s half beta fish. He’d fight his own reflection to prove a point.”

Wren ignored her interruption. “But likewise, I’m not stupid and I’ve never wanted to make it easy on anyone. Especially not my enemies.”

There was no mistaking the pride on his father’s face. “Good, boy. I’m glad to know they haven’t killed you yet.”

“And they’re not going to.”

His father looked at Maggie. “Is she your mate?”

Wren took her hand into his and squeezed it as Maggie watched him expectantly for that answer. “Not exactly … but we’re working on it.”

His father laughed until he sniffed the air again. He cocked his head curiously. “She’s human.”

Wren wrapped his arms around her as if to protect her. “You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” his father said firmly. Sincerely. “My mother was human, too.”

Wren gaped, letting Maggie know that his father had just imparted a secret to him. “Pardon?”

His father moved to lock the bedroom door as if he was afraid of someone overhearing them. “You heard correctly. It wasn’t something that we ever spoke about outside of the immediate family, but yes. My mother was an Arcadian tiger.” His face softened. “Hell of a woman she was, full of fire and spirit. I wish to the gods that I had been mated to a human, as opposed to the bitch I fathered you with.”

Marguerite felt Wren tense around her, but she wasn’t sure why. She rubbed his arm to offer him her support. Poor guy was having one hell of a day.

But then, they had come back here for answers. Even hard ones.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret you,” his father said, reaching out to touch Wren’s shoulder. “I never did.” And then his handsome face turned sad and wistful. “I take it by your presence here that I’m not around in your future.”

Wren leaned his head against hers. His tenseness increased before he answered. “No.”

His father winced as he dropped his hand and sighed. “Do I … Did I do right by you in the end?”

Wren didn’t answer the question. Instead he asked, “What day is today?”

“August 5, 1981.”

Marguerite gasped at the date as a chill went down her spine.

“What?” both of them asked.

“I’ll be born at noon tomorrow,” she said incredulously. “It’s just kind of eerie, isn’t it?”

Wren’s father snorted. “Not in our world. You get used to such weirdness.”

Wren took a deep breath while he continued to hold her close. “Three days from now, I’ll be in the back of a car headed for New Orleans.”

His father opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut. Emotions played across his face while the reality of his imminent death hit him.

Marguerite couldn’t imagine anything worse than to know just how limited your future was. All the regrets. All the concerns. His poor father.

He sighed heavily. “I’m going to assume that I’m not the one who sends you there.”

“No.”

His father sat down on the edge of the bed with a sad, faraway look in his eyes. She could tell he was struggling with the news.

“I only have three more days left alive,” he breathed.

“You shouldn’t know that,” Wren said.

“No.” His father looked up at them. “If you’re here, then it was meant to be.”

A weird feeling went through Marguerite as she considered that. “I think he’s right, Wren. Remember what you said about running into the man in the woods who took you to Sanctuary? He knew who and what you were. He knew to be there. How?”

Wren looked as perplexed as she felt.

His father frowned. “Why didn’t you go to Grayson for protection? He’s your guardian.”

Wren shook his head. “Bill Laurens was my guardian until I came into my own.”

His father scoffed at that. “Bill is a child.”

“No, he’s twenty-one right now, and for reasons I never understood, you made him my guardian. Bill’s the one who saw to it that I was tutored in my powers and kept safe until I could protect myself.”

“Grayson is the one who kills you,” Marguerite told Aristotle. “He would have killed Wren, too, had Bill not been his guardian.”

Wren’s father snarled as he came off the bed. “That sorry sack of shit. I always knew he was a scabbing bastard.” Hatred and anger burned deep in his blue eyes as he paced back and forth in the room. “I should have killed him. I should have…” His voice trailed off.

Aristotle paused as he looked back at the two of them. “Your mate is right. You were here before. You had to be. Because if you weren’t, Grayson would have had full rights to you. I would never have left my only son in the hands of a human child.”

Aristotle growled and cursed … and returned to pacing even faster. He definitely reminded her of a caged tiger that was ready to tear the arm off anyone who came near it. “Who runs my company after I die?”

“Aloysius Grant.”

He screwed his face up in disgust. “He’s an incompetent nerd.”

“Yes, but he’s a visionary,” Wren said quietly. “In the next twenty years, he makes this company second only to Microsoft.”

Disgust gave way to incredulity as his father stopped pacing again. He gaped at them. “Microsoft? Don’t tell me that kid from the West Coast really got that stuff to fly?”

“Oh yeah,” Marguerite said with a laugh, “Bill Gates pretty much takes over the world as we know it.”

Wren’s father growled again. “Damn, see what happens when you get killed before your time? Someone else dominates the market you’ve spent your entire life grooming. It’s just not right.”

“It’s okay, Dad. Your company makes it on the hardware side anyway. That and the World Wide Web. Not to mention plasma TVs and cell phones.”

His father’s eyes burned with intensity as he locked gazes with Wren. “Not my company, cub.
Your
company.” He wrinkled his brow as if another thought occurred to him. “What’s this World Wide Web thing?”

Marguerite laughed again. “In short, money. Lots and lots of money. Especially for Tigerian Tech.”

Wren’s father smiled. “Good. I like money. Always have. It doesn’t ever betray you, and unless someone steals it, it stays where you put it. But mostly, money keeps us safe from the outside world.” The humor fled from his face as he let out a long sigh. “I guess my problem was that I wasn’t looking within. I should have kept a better eye on my family.”

He returned to pacing with his hands behind his back and his gaze on the floor. “So I only have three days to get everything in order.” He glanced back at them. “But that doesn’t explain why the two of you are here, does it?”

Marguerite stepped away from Wren. “We’re both being hunted.”

“Why? By whom?”

“Grayson wants to finish what he started,” Wren answered. “He wants me dead so that he and his son Zack can take over the company.”

“That’ll be over my…” Aristotle ground his teeth. “I guess it
is
over my dead body.”

Marguerite moved to pace beside him. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed a natural thing to do. “They framed Wren for the deaths of you and your wife.”

Both of his eyebrows shot upward. “Karina dies as well?”

Wren nodded. “But not until after she kills
you.
”

He wrinkled his nose as if that was the most disgusting thing he’d ever heard. “How the hell does that bitch kill me? There’s no way she could do it.”

“She had help,” Marguerite said. “Her lover is here with her.”

Aristotle shook his head in denial. “That worthless leopard cub? He can barely tie his own shoelaces. Never mind take me on. That’s just stupid.”

“I never understood it, either. But as a cub, I will hear something break in this room and I will come in here and find you dead. Mom and her lover will be in the study across the hall, laughing about it.”

Still Aristotle shook his head in disbelief. “And who kills her?”

Wren shrugged. “My money says Grayson. But I don’t know. When I woke up after her lover attacked me, she and her lover were dead, too. I never saw hide nor hair of who did it.”

His father ran his hand over his face before he sighed wearily. His eyes were sincere as he looked at Wren. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t around for you, Son. Here I’ve been thinking that I would have time to make it up to you that I left you alone so much as a cub. I should never have ignored you.”

She could tell exactly how much those words meant to Wren. And she was grateful that she and Wren had come back so that he could hear them.

“It’s okay.”

“No,” his father said sternly, “it’s not. I spent all my time building a company that I won’t even be around to see prosper. You must hate me.”

“I never hated you, Dad. Not really.”

He reached out and pulled Wren into a tight hug.

Marguerite watched the look on Wren’s face as he tensed, then returned the hug. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached out and patted Wren’s back.

“I love you, Wren. I’m sorry if I ever said or did anything that hurt you.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

Wren pulled back and cleared his throat, but even so she could see the tears that were glistening in his eyes.

His father turned toward her. “I hope you’ve been taking good care of my boy.”

She smiled at Wren. “I’ve been trying to. But he can be very difficult. He doesn’t listen.”

Wren rolled his eyes at her before he spoke to his father. “Karina’s going to meet Grayson this afternoon. Would you keep Maggie safe while I track her?”

Marguerite growled at that. “Wren…”

“No, Maggie,” he said, his voice thick and commanding. “It’s better this way. It’ll be easier for me to search her out alone.”

“Bull!”

Both of them ignored her.

“I’ll guard her with my life,” Aristotle promised.

“Wren!” she snapped.

He cupped her cheek in his warm, callused palm. “It’s okay, Maggie. Really. I have to do this.”

Marguerite didn’t want to listen to him, but she saw the turmoil inside him. The fear he had for her. That reached down and touched her deeply.

She wouldn’t be stupid. Her luck, she’d just get them caught anyway. Spying wasn’t something she was good at.

For that matter, she’d been busted anytime she tried to get away with anything.

She let out a long, exasperated breath. “Don’t you dare strand me here without you.”

“I won’t.” He kissed her cheek, then vanished from in front of her.

Marguerite seethed at his actions. “I hate it when he does that.”

His father laughed. “I’m glad to know he’s at least mastered that trick.”

“He’s mastered many. I think you’d be very proud of him. He’s managed to stay alive against incredible odds just since I’ve known him.” Then she held her hand out to his father. “I’m Maggie Goudeau, by the way.”

He shook her hand gently. “Pleased to meet you, Maggie. I have to say you are a beautiful companion for my boy.”

Aristotle’s words warmed her. At least until a weird thought went through her. “You wouldn’t happen to have any old photographs of Wren, would you? I would love to know what he looked like as a young boy.”

His father smiled devilishly. “I’ve got something even better than that for you.”

She didn’t understand what he meant until he led her down the long, elegant hallway to another room at the very end of it.

He opened the door, then stood back so that she could enter the darkened room first. Marguerite entered, then froze as she saw a young Wren on the other side of a two-way mirror.

“Isn’t this dangerous?” she whispered.

“No.” Aristotle closed the door and moved to stand right behind her. “Wren can’t see, hear, or smell either of us. I had this room built a long time ago so that I could watch him without his knowing it.”

She scowled. “Why?”

There was much regret and hurt deep in those turquoise eyes that reminded her so much of Wren’s. “Because I have always loved my son even when he repulsed me, and I want you to make sure that he knows that. That he really understands it.”

She looked at Wren, who appeared to be around the human age of thirteen or fourteen as he lay on the floor of the other room. His blond hair was long and shaggy, his body frighteningly skinny. He looked so vulnerable. So scared and unsure. Things she had never known the man Wren to be.

“How could he have ever repulsed you?” she asked Aristotle.

He indicated the window that showed Wren on his back in human form. He was completely naked and writhing as if he was in pain.

“It is the nature of animals to kill those who are weak. Those who are different. For the last twenty-five years, I let Karina’s coldness color my own views of my child. Wren was born neither tiger nor leopard, but a mixture of us.” His gaze burned her. “You’ve no idea how much of a handicap that is in our world.”

He moved over to the glass, so close that she was surprised Wren couldn’t see him there, staring at him. “All his life, I thought it was a deformity. I didn’t know that when he hit puberty, it would be a gift. You see, as a rule, our kind can only be two things. Human and whatever animal we’re born to. There’s no choice in it. But Wren … he’s special. He can be the tigard that he was born—”