Authors: Anne Berkeley
“At this point, I’d prefer that were the case,” Mom agreed, dropping her head and rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers. “I’m at a loss for words,
Thaleia. I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s a first for everything,” I said wryly.
Dad took a deep breath, grasping Mom’s hand, equally thunderstruck. He looked at Icarus. “How do we handle this?” he inquired. “There’s no precedent for news like this.”
“I think it would be best if Marcus tells us about Alec, first. I need to know exactly what we’re facing before I can offer you any solace. I won’t lie and
say that what you’ve already seen is the worst of Thaleia’s predicament. I need you to know the full truth so that you can be at ease with the decisions you make regarding her future.”
The subject of our conversation returned from the kitchen, tugging his tee back over his head. He stood on the opposite side of the room, preferring to stand. “Alec is my alpha. He wants
Thale. He has…” growing a set of balls, Marcus took a deep breath, “he has a client in New York that’s offered big money for her.”
The room erupted. Mom
began swearing again. Icarus had to restrain Dad from assaulting Marcus. Clearly, I was wrong about having seen Dad at his angriest. I was happy to find I was a step above his beamer. Marcus was pleading his defense, wasting his breath. Me, I was beyond shock at this point. Jumping in front of the R5 was looking better by the moment.
“Human trafficking,” said Mom in disbelief a few minutes later. Icarus had calmed Dad down enough to see reason; rather Dad realized he wasn’t getting past him, but he stood, hands on his hips,
back straight. Mom, who was still half in shock, stared daggers at Marcus. “You were going to sell my daughter to some depraved werewolf. What kind of person are you?”
“It’s not like that,” Marcus said defensively.
“What
is
it like, Marcus?” I asked. “Please explain it to me. Did you think I would come with you willingly?”
“Most of the girls do.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve done this before?”
“Yes, but you have to understand, the girls we choose usually have nothing. We
find them on the streets. Shelters, group homes, orphanages, you name it. We don’t discriminate.”
“You’re preying on them!” Mom said in disgust. “Targeting the weak and homeless. These
are girls, women, human beings!”
“Call it what you want, but they’re treated well. Our clients have money. They’re provided with homes, clothes, food, things these girls never had before.”
“Those who survive the change,” Icarus qualified. “How many is that precisely? What percent? Half? A third? A quarter?”
Marcus had the decency to look contrite. “They’re fully aware of the risk they’re taking. We don’t force them into anything.”
“Well I don’t exactly fit the profile of your candidates.”
Marcus shook his head. “No, the circumstances surrounding you are unique. This client, he purchased from us before, but he’s looking for someone more refined than the girls we provide. He was very particular about his criteria. And Alec refused at first, but when this guy started flashing numbers in the triple digits, he decided he could accommodate him after all.”
“But you’re willing to cross him,” Icarus observed. “Why?”
Marcus smiled crookedly, glancing pointedly at me. “You didn’t care what business we had here as long as we stayed out of your territory. Why the sudden turnaround?”
Icarus’s jaw tightened, but he refused Marcus’s bait. “We had a potential pack mate that had feelings for Thaleia. He was concerned about your interest in her. His name was Jack Medley. Maybe you knew him?”
“Jack,” Mom said
pensively, overlooking the tense Icarus used. “Isn’t that the name of the boy that called here Saturday afternoon, Gabe?”
“No, Jack couldn’t possibly have called you Saturday afternoon,” Icarus elucidated. “He was
found dead early Saturday morning. Perhaps you know something about that, Marcus?”
Paling, Marcus dropped into the armchair. “I told you Alec really wants her. I assured him
Thale was dead. She couldn’t have survived what…” He swallowed thickly, “…what I’d done. But he didn’t believe me. It was my own fault. I’ve been trying for months to talk him out of this. Taking these girls from the street is one thing, they’re willing, but Thale’s different. Triple digits or not, abduction ain’t right.
“Anyhow, when we went to get my
truck, he picked up your pack’s scent in Jack’s house, which only fed his suspicions. It was pure luck that Jack was unconscious because it gave me time to talk sense into Alec. Somehow, I managed to convince him that it was only natural you were at the party. It was your territory after all. But Alec’s not sensible right now, and he went back later. I followed him, hoping to keep it from coming to bloodshed, but Jack just kept pushing his buttons, and Alec killed him before he could talk, at least not what Alec wanted to hear.”
Marcus ran his hand through his hair and stood again
, like he was preparing to leave. “She’s dead; that’s all Jack would tell him. She might be safe if you keep her hidden. But I’ll warn you, Alec’s not one to give up, especially with her being worth so much and having invested so much time in her already. If he has any doubts she died, he won’t rest until he’s either dug up her bones in your back yard or has that fat quarter-mill in his pocket.”
“Wonderful,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Just bloody fuckin’ wonderful!” Dropping beside her on the sofa, Dad patted her knee, knowing she was losing it again. They were the perfect counterpoint to one another, each picking up the strength when the other was fading.
“What do we do?” Dad asked. “How do we keep her safe?”
“Um,” Marcus cut in. “Look, I really have to go. Alec’s already suspicious. If he sees me leaving h
ere…he won’t hesitate to kill me if he finds out I’ve crossed him.”
“Excuse me one moment,” Icarus said politely. Following Marcus to the door, he said a few words out of hearing. Marcus held his hands up and shook his head, his expression strained and repentant. Looking back one last time, he left, his dark form slinking off into the night.
“Shouldn’t we have called the police?” Dad asked.
“We police our own,” Icarus assured. “But more importantly, let's discuss
Thaleia, because threats aside, she’s going to need help. The transformation you just witnessed was an atrocity. With my help as an alpha, I can teach her to do it much more smoothly and as a result, less painfully. I’m sure you want the best for your daughter. I can give that to her.
“There are other considerations to take in as well. Without my guidance,
Thaleia poses a threat to humans, not excluding your own family. New lycanthrope are less in control of themselves and more likely to attack and potentially kill. Could you live with the guilt if she harmed a neighbor or a friend? Or if they survived, impose on them the same affliction?
“In order for me to ensure
Thaleia’s safety and the safety of others, and provide her with the best possible life, she’ll need to reside with me. There, she’ll have not only my help, but also that of my pack. Between all of us, Thaleia shouldn’t have a problem adjusting.”
“Move out?” Mom said instinctively. “No!”
“I know this isn’t the future you envisioned for your daughter,” Icarus empathized. “But as long as it’s within my will to give, I will see that she achieves her aspirations.”
“What about finishing school or college?”
“Mom!” I exclaimed. “I hardly think that’s the priority right now!”
Icarus gave me a look that said, ‘
Allow me to do the talking.’ “Thaleia should be able to graduate from Rock West along with Bacchus and Caius. And in time, there’s no reason she can’t pursue a higher education. Because of territory disputes, I can’t say that her choice of colleges won’t be limited, but I’ll do my best to see that’s it’s an accredited school.”
Mom sobbed and sniffled, understandably upset. After witnessing the atrocity as Icarus called it, most people would’ve handled it much worse. Like running off screaming or chanting the Lord’s Prayer while wielding the crucifix as a shield. In my own opinion, she was handling it like a trooper. Aside from the intermittent swearword, she’d yet to faint or vomit.
I couldn’t claim that myself. I’d committed all three.
“You can protect her?” Dad asked, reliably sensible. “
Thale’s safety comes first and foremost. If you can keep her safe from this Alec fellow, I’ll agree to the living arrangements.”
Over. Done. Sold. I could hear the gavel hit the auction block.
Just like that, with minimal haggling and a few assurances over my well being and education, I was passed off from the hands of my beloved father to the guardianship of the insufferable Lord Icarus.
Well fuck me sideways.
“Absurd as it sounds, this threat is relatively minor. My pack is five strong. The occasional rogue like Alec and Marcus pose little danger unless Thaleia is outnumbered and alone. We’ll do everything in our power to make sure that’s never the case. On the off chance that she does find herself in that predicament, I will train her thoroughly to defend herself.” Icarus smiled at this. “She appears to already show some knowledge in that field.”
“Very well,” Dad said
despairingly. “Thale, go pack what you’ll need until the weekend. Your mother and I will arrange the rest of your things.”
“Anything that’ll make her feel more at home,” Icarus agreed.
On they went as I climbed the stairs, planning my life and future. I felt as though I were two hundred years in the past and Icarus was negotiating for my hand in marriage. My parents were sending me to pack my belongings while they discussed the conditions of my dowry.
Their voices trailed off as I reached the
landing. I grabbed my carry-on from the hall closet and walked into my room to find Bennie and Crispin waiting behind the door. Crispin heard me coming of course, but Bennie hadn’t moved quickly enough and I nailed him in the kidney with the door handle. Crispin doubled over in a fit of laughter, watching Bennie stumble to my bed, clutching his side.
“Dude, holy crap, you got nailed!”
“You could’ve warned me,” Bennie wheezed. “I think I’m hemorrhaging.”
“You’d have to be deaf not to hear her plodding up the stairs! No offense
, Thale. But you’re not very light on your feet.”
“No offense taken.” I went to my drawers and began pulling things at random, fitting whatever I could into the bag. Despite my company, I picked more carefully through my delicates. I was moving into a house full of boys. If I was going to get caught in my underwear, I wanted them to at least be presentable. Vain, I know. It should’ve been the least of my worries. But it happened more times with Bennie than I like to admit.
Crispin ambled to the vanity, gazing inquisitively over the contents. He picked up a bottle of perfume, sniffed it through the cap, and quickly put it down, his nose wrinkled and twitching, suppressing a sneeze.
Bennie laughed this time, watching him.
Continuing his explorations Crispin tipped open the bakery box and peaked inside. He gave me a curious look. “Shit, Thale, did you eat
both
of these?”
“No,” I answered, throwing my delicates in the bag and moving onto the socks. Unlike my underwear, I didn’t care what color insignia
adorned the ankle. I grabbed an indiscriminate handful and tossed them in. “Just the chocolate one. Why, do I look like a hog to you?”
“No, but it explains why you look like such crap.”
I looked up from my packing long enough to glare. “Thanks. Thanks a lot. I’ve been sick the past few days.
Really
sick. Ok?”
“Well, that’s because you can’t eat chocolate anymore. We can’t digest it.”
My glare sharpened, chin tilting down menacingly as I growled lowly under my breath, miming my mother’s string of curses. He poisoned me, the fucker!
Chapter 7
“Maybe it wasn’t the best idea,” Icarus apologized. “But it was the only thing I could come up with short of physical restraint. I’m sorry Thaleia, but I couldn’t take the chance of you leaving the house. I’m sure you can fully appreciate the situation now that you’ve heard it for yourself. Rogues are dangerous. I’ve never come across one I’ve trusted.”
The prick
poisoned me with a double chocolate muffin. It brought ‘death by chocolate’ a whole new connotation. Still, I didn’t feel much like arguing with him. Revenge was the last thing on my mind. Saying goodbye to my parents was harder than I had imagined it would be.
No, I didn’
t much feel like talking, let alone bickering.
Wiping a few stray tears from my
cheeks, I dropped my head against the headrest, moping over the unanticipated separation from my family.
After Crispin inadvertently informed me of my muffin poisoning, he le
ft me in the room with Bennie. Alone. I didn’t think it was such a good idea, but it forced me to cool my temper. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of turning yet, but I didn’t want to gamble on Bennie’s safety.
“Making new friends?” I said conversationally, forci
ng my mind away from Icarus and focusing on packing. I picked up odds and ends, weighing their value. Take or leave, leave or take. Everything was valuable to me, but was it necessary for immediate use?
“He’s cool.”
Bennie said with little enthusiasm, shuffling his feet in an abashed manner. If I hadn’t known him better, I’d think it was a masculine thing. Men hated to admit that another guy was cool. It was like asking them if they thought he was handsome. But I did know Bennie, and I knew his reaction was nothing of the sort. He was upset that I was leaving.
I grabbed my phone charger, straightening iron and blow dryer
from my dresser, wrapped the cords as neatly as I could and stuffed them in my bag. My laptop went in its padded case. I sat everything by my bedroom door and turned to face my little brother.
“But he won’t replace you.”
“No one can replace me,” Bennie said cockily. I had been fighting not to cry, but when I saw his forlorn expression, I lost it. My eyes flooded and spilled over.
Most teenagers—and some adults—hated their siblings. They
existed for nothing other than to make each other’s lives a living hell. But not Bennie and me. We were best friends, even more so than Peyton ever was, and then some. We had a special kinship that only my parents could understand.
Bennie grasped me in a hug, fierce but swift. “Don’t forget about me,
Thale, he pleaded. He tried to make his tone sound light but I could hear the fear behind his words. “Seriously, Mom will be inconsolable. She’ll start making vege smoothies again. You know how sick the split pea makes me.” Before I could build a retort, he released me and fled the room before I could see him crying.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I grabbed my laptop in my free hand and took one last look at my room. God I was going to miss this place. I know my mom would’ve brought it in any case, but I grabbed my rag quilt from the bed and tucked it beneath my arm. If I had to leave home then home was coming with me. Flicking the light off, I trotted down the stairs.
Dad claimed me next, hugging me more tenaciously than Bennie. After a measureable time, he grasped my arms and backed me to arms length. “Are you sure about this Thale?” he asked, searching my eyes. “Just say the word. We’ll figure something out.”
Steeling myself, I set
my jaw. “I’ll be ok Dad.”
Dad smiled and tipped my nose. “That’s my girl. I want you to take this,” he said, pulling the Beretta from its holster.” He twirled me around so that my back was to him and clipped the holster onto the back of my pants, on the inside where it would be concealed by my shirt. When he slid the gun back in, I could feel the weight of it pulling my sweats down. “Carry it with you at all times. I don’t care if you’re going to powder your nose.”
I nodded compliantly.
“Icarus seems to have his head on straight. You listen to him; heed everything he has to say. Is that understood?” I must’ve shown some sort of reluctance, because he gave me his reproving eye. “I’m entrusting him to protect you,
Thaleia. But he can’t do that if you rebel at every given opportunity. Now promise me you’ll behave.”
“I’ll behave,” I said with a roll of the eyes.
“Promise me.”
“I PROmisssseee!”
Dad smiled at my tone and hugged me again, satisfied. Leaving me go, he dropped two boxes of bullets and the extra magazine into my bag. For a moment, I felt like Alice from Resident Evil, minus the red dress and combat boots. I could easily pull off her kick ass look except, well, that I wasn’t kick ass. I was a pacifist by default, instilled by my hippie GP’s.
Mom was a hot mess. She hugged me and cried and cried and hugged me some more. She gave me money. Lots of it. And her visa card. Then she refused my objections to take them back. She reminded me to use my manners, to brush my teeth before bed, and to eat healthy.
“I’m moving twenty minutes away Mom,” I stressed. “Besides, I would’ve been moving out soon anyhow. And college was ten times as far. And we do have telephones. And Bennie can set up the webcam, don’t forget.”
“I know,” Mom sniffled, refusing to leave me go. Dad had to pry her away from me, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders. Still, she fluttered nervously, touching my hair and face.
“Mare,” Dad cooed. “We’ll see her this weekend.”
Icarus waited patiently by the door, trying not to be intrusive, but as we reached the end of our farewells, he took my bags and slung them over his shoulder. “I’ll take these to the car.”
“No, no, I’m ready,” I said, averse to dragging this out. Smiling was too challenging so I kissed Mom and Dad each on the cheek and made a quick exit. I didn’t look back until I was in the car and concealed safely behind the tinted windows. Even then, I tried not to look, but I had to steal a last glance at the place I called home for the past eighteen years. A fresh wave of tears burst forth when I spotted Bennie in his bedroom window.
I wished I hadn’t looked back. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t miss my parents, but I felt like I was abandoning Bennie. I imagined him sitting at breakfast alone. Who would he discuss his upcoming tests? Who would give him pointers and cliff notes? Who would give him an unbiased critique of his latest works of art? Mom would inevitably say everything was beautiful, but only I had the hon
esty to tell him the nose was too wide, or the arms were out of balance.
“Maybe it’s not my work,” Bennie
would retort. “Maybe it was the muse.” I would promptly knuckle-punched his arm because I was always his muse. He hated to have people watch him work. He said it was having someone gawking over your shoulder while you’re trying to take a piss. Creating art was personal, intimate to him, and I completely understood.
He was going to attend art school overseas, and we were going to travel the world together while he painted architecture, landscapes and beautiful, sultry women from places like Monte Carlo, London, Paris, Dublin, Athens and Prague. I would wait tables at some rustic café while he studied and worked on his art. We’d have heated affairs with the natives. They were always dark haired and dusky skinned, gypsies, we’d decided. And we’d leave them heartbroken when we moved onto the next destination from our extensive but constantly evolving list.
Well, I guess Bennie could still live his dream, though he’d be traveling solo. Likely when he reached eighteen, he wouldn’t want me around anyhow. Life happens. Things change. People move on. He’d find cheaper accommodations, perhaps a nice little studio apartment with aged stucco walls and a charming little terrace. And he wouldn’t have to worry about having the place to himself when he brought his dates home for the night. Maybe he would send me pictures and postcards saying ‘wish you were here’ in his loopy artists scrawl.
When I didn’t respond to Icarus’s apology, he let it drop. We drove in silence with only the hum of the tires and the sporadic thump-thump of the uneven road. It was still dark outside, but the sky faded to a washed out indigo. In another hour or two, the sun would begin to rise.
So why did I feel like I was descending farther into darkness?
Before I could drum up an answer, Icarus inched the Porsche slowly over the lip of the driveway and coasted around the back of the house where a large, four bay garage sat nestled within a copse of pine trees and shrubbery. He pushed a button above his head and the bay to the left, the farthest door began to drone, its panels disappearing gradually into the ceiling above. Smooth as silk, he pulled the car into the bay and shut the engine down.
In the bay beside me, sat a Dodge Viper in a flawless, glossy black, the fourth bay housed a Shelby GT500, white with red racing stripes. The third bay remained empty. Icarus saw me browsing the inventory and smiled, recollecting something from his past.
“I was teaching Lucius to drive a few years back. I had a BMW then. He dumped the clutch and drove the car right through the last bay.
‘
Slow
,’ I warned him. ‘
Let it out slowly
.’ ‘
I know what I’m doing Dickhead,’
he insisted
.
‘
Stop hounding me
.’ Next thing I knew, half the front end of the car was through the back wall of the garage, with the door resting atop us. We were pinned to the seats with the airbags, noses filled with chemicals from the deployment. Lucius just looks over at me, all innocent-like, and says ‘
Whoops
’ as if he just spilled a glass of milk. The others heard the crash of course and they all came trucking outside. I wasn’t laughing at the time, but
they
sure got a kick out of it. Sounded like a pack of hyenas. Lucius never lived it down. The fourth bay has been his appointed parking space ever since.”
I smiled weakly. It felt foreign and misplaced.
Eyes deepening poignantly, Icarus reached and stroked my hair. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it’ll be ok.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, leaning away from his hand, “It doesn’t feel like it.” Opening the door, it gave a percussive little pop, and I climbed out, rising on my giraffe legs unt
il I reach my full six-foot two inch height.
Icarus unfolded himself on the other side and retrieved my bags from the trunk. I followed him
from the garage and watched as he punched the code into the keypad. In a grating rumble, the bay door began to descend.
Quietly, he led the way into the house and up the stairs,
passing the room I had used the last time I stayed, and continued down the hall. At the very end of the hall, he opened a white door and flipped on the lights. There was another flight of stairs, an undressed bulb lighting the way. I wasn’t sure whether to think
Rapunzel
or
Flowers in the Attic
.
“It’s a large space,” Icarus explained. He glanced up the stairs and back at me. “The light’s not much to look at, but we can have it replaced. The rest of the room’s not so bad.”
I followed him up the stairs. Each of my steps sounded like a gunshot against the bare wood, even after my years of ballet lessons. I guess Crispin was telling the truth about plodding.
Pulling me from my chagrin, we reached the top of the stairs. The room ran almost the entire length of the house with four large dormers evenly spaced across the front, one octagonal window on the western side, and another door to the east. My eyes drew up to the ceiling, which sported large, exposed beams, and drew down the warm, white walls to the raw, honey colored wood plank floors. A large, queen bed sat in the far corner, dressed with shabby linens and a multitude of pillows in all shapes and sizes. On the left side of the bed, stood a large bedside table, white with chipped paint and scuffed edges. A large chandelier lamp hung above the table with white crystals that shattered
yellow light across the room.
“Not so bad,” I agreed, using his words. “Did you just
do all this? For me?” I hadn’t given much thought to where I would sleep, but I had to admit, I was pleasantly surprised.
Glancing sideways at me, Icarus’s mouth quirked. “Someday you’ll stop being amazed that I can behave respectably.”
“My reactions aren’t unfounded.”
“Which I apologized for.”
“By poisoning me!”
“I apologized for that too.”
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply through my nose and counted from one to ten silently in my head. “I really don’t have the energy to do this right now. I’m tired, physically and mentally. And what are you staring at?”
Most people looked you in the eye when conversing, but he was
staring at my mouth. I couldn’t remember the last time I had brushed my teeth. I could barely leave the bathroom floor let alone groom myself. My breath was probably offensive. And with his heightened senses, he probably got a good whiff with every vowel I’d uttered. I was like the caterpillar smoking the hookah, blowing little green smoke rings toward his face. I probably curled, if not singed his nose hairs with the foulness of my verbal exhalations.