Other (23 page)

Ben stares down at me, and his dark eyes are the last thing I see.

I'm in a twilight place between waking and sleeping. Everything's soft and shadowy. Blackness cocoons me and I curl inside it, warm and peaceful. If this is death, it isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

“Wake up.”

I don't want to. I ignore the voice.

“Gwen.” It's Tavian. “You have to wake up.”

I try to see him through the blackness, but I'm blind. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

I struggle to tear the blackness from my eyes. It tangles around me, suffocating me. I nearly panic, thrashing in it.

“Don't fight it,” Tavian says. “Focus.”

I remember what it means to be awake, to be alive, to feel sun on my skin. I see a murky red glow—light, filtering through my eyelids. Someone carries me in strong arms. I hear the swish of grass on legs. My eyelids feel leaden, but I manage to pry them open. I see my hair dangling to one side of my face, swinging as he walks—because I know it's a he. Him. Ben.

I make a soft muffled sound of fear.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “Don't you worry. It'll all be better soon.”

My heart beats against my ribs like a caged bird. I can't move. We're walking in a field. I know what will happen next, but I can't stop it—I'm a paralyzed prophet. Can't do anything.

He lays me on the grass, gently, supporting my head. Maybe he won't kill me—not right away.

Hair has caught on my open lips. Ben brushes it away, his touch almost fatherly. He picks something up. It jingles like it has metal parts, and I smell leather. He fits it around my head and cinches it tight. A bit digs into my mouth, the taste of iron sharp on my tongue. He's bridled me. He knows what I am.

“You won't have to suffer any longer,” Ben murmurs.

This is it. I'm going to die. Game over, and there's no reset button. I stare at a dandelion blossoming beside my head, seeing for the first time the beautiful symmetry in its petals. This flower of a weed will outlive me. It seems like such a simple fact—nothing to fear. Calm settles over me like a blanket.

Ben climbs to his feet and stares at me as if admiring his handiwork. “Don't waste time trying to shapeshift,” he says. “I injected you with enough anti-transformational drug to paralyze a pack of werewolves.”

I watch, floating in a sea of numbness, as he slings a bag off his shoulder. I wonder what could be inside it. The wind rustles grass against grass. With my ear to the ground, I can hear distant footsteps pounding closer. Ben unzips his bag and sorts through it with the calm of a surgeon. He doesn't know someone's coming.

twenty-three

“G
wen!” Birds whirr into the air, startled by the shout. “Gwen! Where are you?”

Zack comes crashing through the grass and stumbles to a halt, breathing hard.

Ben glances at him, then zips his bag and stands up. “Zack.”

“What happened?”

Ben pauses. “I found her like this. She—”

“Oh my God.” Zack falls to his knees beside me. “Are you okay?”

A tear slides down my nose. I want to tell him what happened, to warn him, but I still can't move. My pooka side also remains paralyzed.

“Zack.” Ben touches his brother's shoulder. “Zachary. I know this girl hurt you.”

“We need to get help,” Zack says. “We …” He glances up at Ben. “What did you say?”

Ben nudges me with his boot. “Gwen is Other.”

“I know.” Zack frowns. “I told you.”

I blink, more tears leaking from my eyes.

Ben crouches beside his brother and slides his arm around Zack's shoulders. “Remember what happened to Justin. This is no different.”

“The vampire? But Gwen isn't one of them—”

“They're all the same.” Ben looks down at me, his face etched with pity. “Think of all the suffering caused by these unholy creatures.”

Zack stares at him as if seeing him for the first time. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Think carefully, Zachary. What I've been doing is God's work.”

“What you've—oh God, no. You've been killing them, haven't you? Innocent people?”

“Innocent?” Ben has a mad-dog glint in his eyes. “They're as innocent as thieves, whores, and murderers. But still, we must be merciful.”

My heart beats harder, spreading warmth through my veins. I wiggle my fingers and toes.

“Murderers …” Zack's lips move soundlessly. “You're a murderer.” He flings his brother's arm off his shoulders.

“Zack. Listen to me. I know this must come as a shock to you—”

“Are you one of them? A White Knight?”

“No. There are no true White Knights anymore.” Ben sighs. “Some, however, still pass on their wisdom. When I went to school up north, I found one of these teachers. He taught me many things, and he can teach you, too.”

I fidget on the ground, testing my muscles, stirring my pooka side. It's slow, sluggish, more distant than ever.
Come on. Wake up.

Zack gapes at his brother. “I don't believe you. You're insane.”

Ben flinches as if his words are a splash of boiling water. “Please try to understand.”

“Okay.” Zack exhales, his face ashy. “I don't understand why you're killing Others.”

“Their bodies are corrupt, their souls caged inside. And it's my duty to set them free.” Ben's voice quivers with pride. “Justin understands. After his encounter with the vampire bitch, he was glad to help me with my work.”

“No.” Zack's mouth is a grim line. “You can't do this, Benjamin.”

Ben glances heavenward. “Someone has to.”

How fast can I shapeshift? Am I strong enough? I moan softly.

“Gwen,” Zack says, his voice tight, “hold on. I'm going to get you out of here. It's over.”

Ben looks truly pained. “You would betray your own brother?”

“You're not my brother. He would never do this.”

“Zachary.” Ben tries to touch his arm.

“Get away from me!”

“Fine,” Ben says, in an icy smooth tone. “But do you think the police will listen to you? Do you think they give a damn about Others?”

I remember Chloe hanging lifeless from the tree, Maris sitting doll-like and dead, Tavian bleeding in the car. I wrench my body from human to animal—it doesn't matter what kind, so long as it can do serious damage.

Pain rips through me as if I'm shredding muscles, but I can't stop, don't want to. My tattered clothes fall like leaves around me. I black out for a second or two. My vision returns, and I'm now on all fours. A horse, damn it—I wanted a predator. But a horse is the most innate pooka form, and my fury can more than make up for a lack of claws and fangs.

The bit digs into my mouth, tighter but unbroken. Coppery-tasting blood spills onto my tongue.

Zack's eyes widen. Ben also sees and whirls around, pulling a pistol from the bag. I charge him, running straight toward the barrel of his gun. I rear with a fierce whinny and strike out with my hooves. The gun flies from his hand and he crumples, his arms raised in front of his face, almost cowering.

I try to trample him, but he rolls away. I spin and kick with my hind legs. Missed.

Springing to his feet, Ben lunges and grabs my bridle. The bit cuts deep into my tongue and I squeal. Zack wavers, then runs at Ben and punches him. Ben's head snaps to one side. He stumbles, his grip loosening on the bridle. I yank free and swing my head, knocking him to the ground. I bring both front hooves down on him.

Ben cries out as he curls into a ball. “Zack! You have to help me. She's dangerous!”

Stop whining. I'm going to shut you up, you asshole. I'm going to make you wish you never came here.
The fierce pleasure of vengeance intoxicates me. I trample him, bite him, pummel him with my hooves.

“Gwen!” Zack shouts.

I flatten my ears, irritated. Ben isn't moving, but I don't want to stop.

Zack grabs my bridle, the bit deepening the wound in my mouth. I rear, yanking him forward then knocking him down. He stares up at me, his eyes wide and bright. I lower my head to his level, my sides quivering, breathing hard, and stick my face in his. I can smell his fear, and I snort—cowardly human.

“It's me,” he says softly, his voice level. “Zack.”

I shake my head, flatten my ears, and pace back. Why won't he run? It isn't amusing if he won't run. Zack climbs to his feet and slowly approaches me, his hand outstretched. I flare my nostrils and huff in warning.

He seems unwilling to touch me, most likely terrified, but he brings his fingers to my face and strokes between my eyes. My pooka side recoils from this tenderness, leaving my humanity at the front of my mind. With a convulsive shudder, I shapeshift into a girl and fall into his arms. I'm trembling, gasping. My naked skin feels raw.

Zack unbuckles the bridle from my head. I spit out the blood and bring my hand to my mouth.

“It's okay, Gwen,” he murmurs. “You're going to be okay now.”

“Zack?” It's agonizing to talk, but I do anyway. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he says. “It's okay.”

“I lost it.” I shut my eyes and lean against his chest. “I lost control.” I see myself as he must see me—a bloodthirsty, demonic Other.

“You did what you had to do.”

“I'm sorry,” I say. “I'm so sorry.”

“Shhh.” Zack takes off his coat and drapes it around me. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. Blood keeps trickling from my mouth. “Benjamin … ?”

Zack kneels by his brother and checks for a pulse. I can't look directly at Ben's darkening bruises and bloodied face.

“He's alive,” Zack says. “He's unconscious.” His voice cracks. “My brother … he's … how am I going to tell our parents?”

I step toward him, and pain shoots through all of my muscles. I crumple to my knees.

Zack catches me and holds me against him. “Where are you hurt?” he says, an undertone of panic in his voice.

“Everywhere.”

“What happened?”

“Shapeshifting—was really hard—and now it all hurts.”

Zack strokes my hair with one hand, flips open his cell phone and dials 911 with the other.

“I'm—passing out,” I say.

“Hold on, okay?”

I slide from his grasp and lie on the grass. Raindrops dot my face. I shut my eyes.

The paramedics whisk me away in one ambulance, Ben in another. They follow “special paranormal procedures” even though both Zack and I say my Otherness isn't contagious. The worst part—worse than all the needles and stitches—is when my family runs into the hospital and makes me cry. Zack stands at the threshold of my room until I wave him closer. I want him by my side. His eyes glimmer, and he clears his throat a few times as he tells my parents and sister what happened.

“Tavian,” I slur, my mouth numbed by painkillers.

“Tavian?” Mum says. “Why … ? Oh.” She glances at Dad, her face tight.

“I heard he's doing okay,” Dad says. “He came out of surgery a short while ago.”

I shut my eyes for a moment and sigh.

Later, when Zack and I are alone, I scribble on a notepad,
How did you know to come?

Zack exhales slowly. “I ran into Ben as he was borrowing my parents' car. When I asked him where he was headed, he said he was just going to the grocery store. But he had this really strange look in his eye. So I followed him. When I saw him go to the hospital, and then I saw you get into his car, I knew something was wrong.”

I write,
Thank you
.

He takes my hand, then swallows hard. “Tavian. You love him, don't you?”

I nod, even though it saddens me to tell him.

He's silent for a bit. “I hope you're happy,” he says, his tone genuine, not spiteful.

I smile and get teary-eyed. I scribble on the notepad,
Find a girl. Make her happy
.

Zack nods, swallows, and looks away.

When the police search Ben's belongings, they find a photo album. They let me look at it because they want me to verify something. On the first page, I find a photo of a woman sitting at the corner of a bar. Beneath her black cowboy hat, she has a pale face with an expression of haughty elegance. In the next photo, she's obviously dead, blood trickling from her open mouth. Fangs glimmer where her canines should be.

I slide the photo from its plastic sleeve. On the back, written in tiny, precise handwriting, I find:
Alexandra Langley. V.
At first I think “V” is the Roman numeral for “five,” but a second later I realize it means “vampire.”

The vampire Justin fell in love with, no doubt. Was she Ben's first killing?

I swallow hard and turn the page again. It's a strange photo. A man and a girl who look Mexican sit on dusty dirt, coyotes romping around them. On the facing page, there's a row of dead coyotes. Werecoyotes. Justin lives in Texas … it looks like after Ben killed Alexandra Langley, he went after more Others there.

I flip faster through the pages. Many, many faces I don't recognize. Maybe a dozen pages of werewolves, probably from the Bitterroot Pack. The photos of bullet-
shattered
skulls and wolf traps make bile rise in my throat. I can only imagine what Winema went through. Then I find the water sprites … Maris … Mr. Quigley … Chloe.

Something squeezes my throat and burdens my chest. I can't breathe right anymore.

On the left page, a photo of Chloe planting seedlings outside her B&B, her lips curved in a smile. On the right page, Chloe lying in the forest with fresh golden blood oozing from her throat, her eyes unseeing.

It doesn't seem real. I can't keep looking at it.

Slowly, I turn the page. I see a photo of Tavian with nothing beside it. I yank it from its sleeve. On the back it says,
Octavian Kimura.
Werefox
. Kitsune.
My fingers clumsy, I replace the photo and turn the page again.

Me.

I stare at myself. I'm walking through downtown Klikamuks, near Main Street, my eyes distant. I look at the back of the photo.
Gwenhwyfar Williams.
Changeling
.
Half fey
. Half pooka.
He even knew how to spell my name. A faint ringing fills my ears, as if an explosion just went off, but I feel utterly numb.

It didn't seem real until now. A serial killer was stalking me all this time.

“Did you or do you know any of these people?” Officer Sharpe asks me.

“Yes,” I say. “Tavian. Chloe.”

“Octavian Kimura and Chloe Amabilis?”

“Yes. Oh, and Mr. Quigley.”

Officer Sharpe nods curtly and takes the album back. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

The police finally believe everything I've been saying all along. Sheriff Royle himself struts into the hospital to arrest Ben, though Ben has to stay until he's well enough to travel. He has three broken ribs, a broken nose, and internal bleeding. I cringe when I hear this, but Zack says he deserves it. I'm not sure anybody deserves anything horrible. I don't say this, though, because my mouth hurts too much.

Zack doesn't really tell me what happened when his parents found out about Ben. I know that Mr. Arrington refuses to visit Ben in the hospital, and the last time I saw Mrs. Arrington, she couldn't stop crying. Apparently Justin is now under investigation from the police for aiding a murderer, though it's not clear if he killed anyone.