Deceived By the Others (24 page)

“Calm down, I don’t bite,” he said, giving me a forced smile. “Look, after I drop you off, I’ll call Mr. Donovan and ask him to meet with you. Do you mind my giving him your address? He can help you.”

“Okay,” I whispered, not sure if it was. What would Rohrik Donovan be able to do for me? Hold my hand and tell me everything would be all right? That I had a place in his pack structure?

A violent shudder rippled down my spine, but the cab driver was no longer paying me any mind. His focus was now solely on the road and traffic before him.

“Wait—how did you know my name? And how did you know the Moonwalkers owe me a favor?” I asked, alarm driving me to scoot toward the door in case I needed to seek a quick escape. Rohrik Donovan was the one who’d told me as much, and if he was anything like Chaz, I couldn’t imagine him sharing that information with just anyone in his pack. Their pride wouldn’t stand for it.

He laughed. “Are you kidding? I’d be surprised if there was an Other in New York who couldn’t recognize you on sight. Most of the humans probably know you, too, considering all the times you’ve been in the news.”

I made a little choking sound in my throat, but he continued, ignoring it.

“Most of the dominant wolves in our pack know about Rohrik’s promise. We’re supposed to be keeping an eye on you and helping when we can. There wasn’t much we could do to interfere with the Sunstrikers’ keeping such close tabs on you. When you ran off into the park a few months ago, I arranged to run into you. This time? Pure coincidence, but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve got my orders.”

“Great. So you’re stalking me now?”

“Not at all. Consider us a safety net. We’re there to catch you if you fall. Like today.”

That shut me up. My fingers crept back to the cuts on my arm, rubbing at the healing wounds through my shirt. Would it be so bad, being one of the Moonwalkers? Aside from Rohrik Donovan’s being the one responsible for the Others coming out of hiding and announcing themselves to the world, I knew next to nothing about the Moonwalker pack. David Borowsky, the crazy sorcerer, had tried to use them to set himself up as the leader over all the Others in New York almost a year ago. Rohrik and I had fought; he walked away with a few bruises, and I got a stint in the hospital that lasted for months.

Oh, the Moonwalkers had made good on the promise to help me afterwards, but we hadn’t had much interaction. Aside from a personal visit from Rohrik to apologize for smashing my ribs into itty bits, I’d had very little contact with any of that pack since I got out of the hospital.

The Moonwalkers and Sunstrikers had never gotten along. This cab driver had once referred to the Sunstrikers as a bunch of good-for-nothing show-offs. Chaz had never had anything nice to say about the Moonwalkers either, though his comments were usually far more disparaging.

I glanced at the ID card plastered between the seats to get the cabbie’s name, something I’d neglected to do before. “Look, Mario, not that I’m not grateful for the help, but it’s pretty freaking creepy that you guys may or may not be shadowing me. Are you the only one, or are there others in your pack watching out for me?”

“Mark Roberts has been helping you,” he pointed out, making me blush at having forgotten the obvious connection—my accountant, the balding father of three, who had given me cut-rate deals on my corporate books and personal taxes ever since I saved the Moonwalkers. “He likes you, you know. Talks about you once in a while when the pack gets together. There are a few others, but I don’t think it’s my place to discuss this with you.”

I made a noncommittal sound in answer and turned my attention outward, staring out the window at the passing cars and buildings. It wouldn’t be much longer before we’d reach my tiny apartment in Terrace Heights. My lease was up in a few months. Recalling that also brought up memories of plans made over wine and candlelight to move into Chaz’s much bigger brownstone. The thoughts were jarring and painful, and I might very well have started crying again if I hadn’t been so exhausted by my ordeal. It was too soon to think about moving again, too soon to be making plans that didn’t involve a future with that lying son of a bitch.

My returning anger warmed me to my chilled core. I’d have to be very careful of my choices over the next few hours. I would meet with Rohrik Donovan and get a feel for what he was like and what his plans were for me. Since the supernatural grapevine would no doubt be buzzing with the news of my infection before long, as soon as my meeting with Rohrik was over I’d call Arnold and swear him to secrecy. I couldn’t risk his accidentally slipping the news to Sara or my parents. That would be followed by a call to Royce to see what, if anything, this might do to change or void our contract.

It was the first time I’d thought of the vampire in a while, other than as a tool to use to hurt Chaz. Royce was older than dirt, and had a streak of possessiveness. He might be tempted to do something to take revenge on the Sunstrikers.

Then again, if I was lucky, he might have come across a cure for lycanthropy in all the years he’d wandered the Earth.

Either way, I needed to talk to him. Somehow he’d known that something bad was going to happen on this trip. Even Jack had known. I needed to dig deeper and find their sources, and see if I could use them for my own ends. I wouldn’t ever let myself be hurt like this again.

“We’re here.”

I’d been so deeply engrossed in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that we’d arrived. I dug my house keys out of the bottom of my purse while Mario went to the trunk for my suitcase, pulling out a cell phone and dialing with his free hand as I led the way. I half-listened to his end of the conversation as he gave a brief account to Rohrik of what had happened and where to find me.

Once upstairs, Mario stopped at the doorway to my apartment, setting my bags down. He made me promise I’d open the door for Rohrik when he came, and not do anything “rash” (a kinder word for “stupid”) in the meantime. I settled before my computer with a cup of coffee as I contemplated what I would say to the Moonwalker pack leader when he arrived, and waited.

Chapter 24

Rohrik Donovan looked more like a construction foreman than a seasoned werewolf pack leader. Though it hadn’t been that long since the last time I’d seen him, I detected a little more salt than pepper in his short hair this time around, and there were more laugh lines around his eyes and mouth than I remembered. When I opened the door, he was looking casual in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, his dark brown eyes widening slightly at my no doubt frighteningly pale features.

I stepped back to let him in. He hesitated at the threshold of my apartment door, and I belatedly remembered the seal keeping out any Others I hadn’t keyed to it. He didn’t protest as I took his hand and pulled him inside. The magic barrier Arnold had installed for me, after some nasty vampires had tried to break in, grudgingly let him pass; I could feel it sticking to his skin and clothes like invisible glue as I drew him through it.

“Ms. Waynest,” Rohrik spoke first, cautious, unsure. His deep voice was soothing, mellow, but with the rougher edge of a Jersey accent and a smoker’s husk. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too,” I replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Black, one sugar, if you would.”

Heathen. What’s coffee without real cream?

I got him his drink, refreshed my own, and we settled across from each other at the table. The silence stretched too long, neither of us quite knowing where to begin or what was safe to say. It felt uncomfortably like a stare down, so I looked away first. He cleared his throat and tossed the opening salvo.

“Mario tells me you’ve got a problem we might be able to help you with. I’d like to know what happened, if you don’t mind telling me.”

I sipped my coffee to buy time and compose myself. My voice still wavered despite my best efforts to stay calm while relaying my story.

“I’m sure you remember Chaz. We were making plans for the future—our future—together. Part of that plan was for me to meet the rest of his pack and go somewhere I could get to know them without interference. We rented some cabins upstate. We thought if I could handle seeing the pack as they really were, maybe I could handle being a part of it someday. Chaz didn’t know, but I brought a contract with me. I signed it, but never got up the courage to show it to him.”

“You planned to be one of the Sunstrikers?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I was more interested in showing good faith and commitment to Chaz than being furry—no offense.”

He nodded, thick hands cradling the coffee mug as he lifted it to his lips. “None taken. Go on.”

“I caught him with another woman. Another Were. After I found them together, I ran back to my cabin and had to get a couple of the other pack members out who were on the verge of shifting. It’s a long story, but I didn’t get their chains off in time, and one of them scratched me.”

I didn’t say anything else after that, uncertain, not knowing what else he’d need to know or what I’d be comfortable enough to tell him. We barely knew each other for all that I’d saved his life. I wasn’t comfortable speaking about Chaz’s betrayal yet, though I’d no doubt be railing and ranting about it as soon as I had a chance to wrap my wits around all the crazy twists and turns my life had taken in the last twenty-four hours.

He stared at me evenly across the table, the chocolate hue of his irises darkening. I tensed, but he gave no other sign of apprehension; his fingers curled loosely around his mug, and the set of his shoulders remained relaxed. It both relieved and bothered me that he wasn’t more upset about my predicament.

“So you’ve been injured, possibly infected, outside of a contract. Have you informed any authorities?”

“No,” I said, mollified that he was more interested in the technicalities than the dirty details of Chaz’s infidelity or what had led up to the scratches on my arm. “I wasn’t sure what to do at first. I only just got home. I’m afraid to go to a hospital for the vaccination shots.”

“Don’t bother,” he said, holding up a hand. “It’s not worth it. The chances of the shots stopping the infection from spreading are far lower than they would have you think, and it will only endanger you if your name goes on a list of possible lycanthropes. We’ve lost three of our newest pack members since January; it wouldn’t do to have you become a statistic, too.”

Chilled, I nodded and hid my discomfited grimace by taking another long sip of coffee. I very nearly choked on it at his next words.

“It could be war between the Moonwalkers and the Sunstrikers if we take you in. I’m not sure that I can risk it.”

I grabbed a stray napkin from the middle of the table and blotted my lips, coughing my breath back so I could speak. “Why? Chaz burned his bridges with me when he cheated on me. Why couldn’t you take me?”

Rohrik met my gaze, his own reflecting a great deal of regret in the face of my confusion. “You may not have been contracted to him, but Chaz was grooming you to be a part of his pack. He wouldn’t take it kindly if we offered you a place in our ranks after he’d spent so much time and effort on you. Werewolves are very territorial, Ms. Waynest. He’d see it as an unforgiveable encroachment if you joined our pack instead of his. We outnumber the Sunstrikers by a great deal, but they are still the third largest pack in the state. Relations between us are already quite strained, and I can’t see how this would improve matters.”

I carefully placed my coffee down in front of me, rubbing at my burning eyes with both hands. Not that long ago, I’d have sworn I’d rather be dead than furry. Now I was upset because the werewolves wouldn’t have me. Funny how these things turn out.

“Okay.” I paused to compose myself before continuing. My life was turning into one long comedy of errors. If I kept up at this rate, I’d be a homeless werewolf begging for spare change from the tourists in Central Park before the month was out. I needed to come up with a plan. “I see what you’re saying. I know this is a risk for you. But I’m willing to use every resource I have to back you up, too. If you’ll help me, I have friends in The Circle, in another Were pack”—if the Nightstrikers could even be called as much—“and I can also ask for help from Alec Royce. I can bring a lot to the table, even if it’s only temporary. If I am infected and you really don’t want me to stick around, then just help me get through the first time or two so I don’t hurt myself or someone else when the change comes. Please? That’s all I’m asking.”

Maybe it was the helpless despair to my tone, or the “please” I tacked on at the end. Rohrik reddened, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away.

“I can do that much. I can’t promise we’ll keep you in the pack, but we’ll help you through the change and with sorting out how your new needs will fit into your lifestyle.”

New needs? There was a thought that didn’t bear much scrutiny. It was my turn to look away, fingers tightening on my mug as I thought about Chaz’s talk of “needs” in the car.

“How soon will I know … ?”

He would have made a good doctor. He didn’t flinch at my question, remaining calm and level as he listed off all the things that made the blood turn to ice in my veins.

“Without blood tests, you won’t know for sure right away. Symptoms don’t usually appear until seven to ten days before the next full moon. You’ll crave rare or uncooked meat. You’ll find your temper snapping at things that at any other time would be insignificant. Some environmental triggers, mostly scents, may make you feel nauseous or uncomfortable. As it gets closer to the full moon, you’ll develop a sensitivity to loud noises and may run a fever. Bright lights will hurt your eyes. The first change is painful and disorienting, so don’t wait to contact me if you start showing symptoms. Too much stress, and you might change before it’s time. Do you still have my number?”