Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (44 page)

Leander got the hazy look in his eyes that meant he was focusing on an idea so wholly that he might not notice if the world suddenly stopped existing. It was only for a second or two, but he was just gone--when he snapped back into reality suddenly it was all at once and obvious, because he straightened up and looked at Axton intently.

"You intend to punish him with responsibility," he said.

"Well," Axton hedged, "I know it sounds flimsy, but--"

"No, no," Leander held up a hand for silence. "I understand. In law, we say it's golden handcuffs. The power, the money, the lifestyle that gives you--it's hard to walk away from. It traps you."

"For him it's the position and the social standing, yeah," Axton said, "how everyone would expect him to stay there all the time."

"There's a certain poetic justice to it," Leander said dreamily.

"Uh," Axton said, "if you say so."

"There's nothing quite like getting everything you've ever wanted and having it be terrible," Leander said. "God. This is beautiful."

"Um," Axton said, "I was more into the practical applications of the idea, like how he can't get the whole pack involved, and how he can't just have unexplained absences."

"What an elegant way to take away his freedom," Leander murmured, "as he took away your freedom."

"You're a little too into this," Axton said.

"I love problem solving," Leander said, "and I wanted him gone without having to commit murder, because I don't take life that lightly. Even the lives of people I think are scumbags."

"I'm glad you're on board," Axton said.

"Is he smart enough to get it, do you think?" Leander asked. "Like, is he going to realize he's been out maneuvered or will we have to explain to him how he's been beaten?"

"I have no idea," Axton said. "That's your department."

"Oh,
good
," Leander said. "I'll make sure he knows, then."

"I was being flippant," Axton said. "I don't even know how you'd--no, okay, fine. If we pull off the coup and make him alpha, you can say whatever you want. Just don't piss him off enough that we have to start over."

"I gotta tell New York about this," Leander said."He'll approve of how insidious the plan is."

"Uh," Axton said again, "that's not--what did you tell him already, exactly?"

"That we had to rescue my boyfriend from a cult of crazy doomsday preppers up north somewhere," Leander said.

"He believed that?" Axton said.

"New York lives in a fascinating, like, hyper reality," Leander said, "because his life is ridiculous and also he's high half the time. A secretive bunch of people living in the middle of Fuck All, Alaska, with a rigid and outdated social structure and possibly certain totemic beliefs centered around grey wolves--that's not even the weirdest thing New York's dealt with this year. It's just been his favorite because he wants to punch Dana in the face."

"Ah," Axton said. "Great. But still, I don't think you can explain the plan without tipping him off to the whole werewolf thing."

"I'll keep it vague," Leander promised. "But, here, look. I think this needs to be codified. Given an air of legitimacy. That's how these things work, historically speaking, how you make power changes stick."

"I think ripping Dru's throat out would be legit enough," Axton said.

"No murder," Leander reminded. "Plan a plan with maybe a little less murder, honey."

"Right, right," Axton sighed. "I don't really want that. But still, I mean, how else do you propose legitimacy?"

"I mean, I'm no werewolf," Leander said, spreading his hands, "but I'd assume your trial by combat system requires a presiding party."

"That can't be you," Axton said, "even if we get you in there."

"No, not me," Leander said, "but presumably a neutral third party can oversee the proceedings."

"Yeah, that's ideal," Axton said, "but I don't think that's an option, and a pack elder will do."

"What if we did get an outside person, though?" Leander asked. "Someone they knew. Someone they respected. Someone Dana and Dru are both a little afraid of."

"We know someone like that?" Axton asked. "That's impressive. And news to me."

"You know someone like that," Leander said, "from what you've told me."

"I do?" Axton asked.

"Your dad," Leander said.

"Is the person least likely in the world to help us," Axton said.

"Are you sure about that?" Leander asked.

"I'm very sure he wants nothing to do with me," Axton said.

"And yet word's gone around that no one's supposed to fuck with you," Leander said.

Axton could feel his shoulders tensing, and how his mouth formed an unhappy line.

"I'm not saying this is an after school special," Leander said softly. "I'm not saying that I know in my heart that your daddy loves you and that he didn't mean it when he hurt you. I haven't the vaguest fucking clue, and even if I thought I did, that's not for me to tell you. It's not my place to deny your truth. But I am saying: I think you're doing the math wrong."

"What?" Axton asked. "What math?"

"It's not how much he likes you that you have to weigh here," Leander said, "it's how it's in his best interest to not have some other, lesser pack fuck you over. It's how he can't let his offspring--a piece of himself, symbolically--be dominated by some upstart asshole. I mean, you said Jack told you that they couldn't even let word get out that you were a prisoner."

"That's not exactly what I said," Axton muttered.

"It's implied," Leander said. "Plus, I mean, look--no one with that kind of reputation gets it by accident. To preside over the passing of power in someone else's organization is to emphasize how you're more powerful than
both
parties you're presiding over."

"I see," Axton said."Your advice here is political."

"Is that a bad thing?" Leander asked. "You've already made the plan political by intending to change the pack's power structure. This is just another layer to make sure the first action sticks."

"It's just not my forte, even generally speaking," Axton said. "It makes me uncomfortable even in the abstract."

"And the practical reality of the thing," Leander said, "is--"

"How is my dad even going to know this is going down?" Axton asked.

"Because you tell him," Leander said.

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Appeal to his pride," Leander said, "if nothing else."

"That's not gonna work," Axton said.

"We have to use everything we've got," Leander said, "if we're trying to resolve this for good."

"This isn't something we've
got
," Axton said, "this is something we
haven't
got."

"But we might get it," Leander said.

"You don't understand--" Axton started.

"I know," Leander said gently.

"It
hurts
," Axton said.

"I know." Leander shifted his posture and reached out across the table, taking Axton's hand in his.

"I don't know that I can do it," Axton said blankly."I don't know that I can ask."

"And I wouldn't ask this of you lightly," Leander said, squeezing Axton's hand. "I know it hurts you, and I'm sorry."

"You genuinely think it would help?" Axton asked.

"I mean, if he agrees to help, yeah, I think that makes a huge difference," Leander said, "since Dana and crew are shit scared of him. Will
asking
him result in that help? I don't know. I think it's worth a shot."

"I don't know if I can," Axton said.

"You don't have to decide now," Leander said.

"But soon," Axton said.

"Yeah," Leander said, and he sounded troubled for the first time in their talk. "Yeah."

They spent many days at sea, by turns languid and then rushed. Axton and Leander moved around each other easily, dreamily, as if living on a boat together was the most natural thing in the world. They made breakfast, they took turns cleaning, they teased and joked with each other and Sarah. They met, eventually, in what they called--not entirely jokingly--The War Room, which was the cramped little cleared out storage room where Leander had put their tech and maps and files.

Axton revealed his year like rain in spring and summer, sometimes drizzling light and easy; sometimes in sudden ferocious torrents that tore at foundations and eroded mountains. But Axton and Leander had built their shared understanding on something stronger than brick or rock or bone; they shuddered sometimes and then stood solid.

They made plans and they discarded plans and they fished plans out of the sea of abandoned ideas. Some plans were thin when held up to the light; some plans were too small and had to be thrown back.

The ship sailed on.

Axton blinked.

"Would you really do that?" he asked.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Leander asked.

Axton paused.

"It might not even come to that," he said finally.

"It's probably going to come to that," Leander said.

Axton looked at Sarah.

"Would he really do that?"

"Uh," Sarah said.

"I'll ask you again, if it comes to that," Axton decided, looking back at Leander.

"I think we should plan for that contingency," Leander said, the next day, about a different plan.

"No," Axton said.

"But," Leander said.

"Absolutely not," Axton said.

"If it
does
come up and we don't have a plan for it, then we'll have to feel really stupid on top of everything else," Leander said.

"If it
does
come to that, one of us is dead and the other's about to follow."

"Well, not if we consider the possibility in advance," Leander said.

"We're not going to get separated again," Axton said. "Not unless we do it on purpose."

"Now there's a thought," Sarah said.

Axton and Leander turned to look at her in union.

"I mean, why not?" Sarah asked, crossing her legs and drumming her fingers against the table. "Here, think about it--"

"What the hell's the point of doing it that way?" Axton demanded, incredulous.

"For some types of hunting, my senses are better than yours," Leander said.

Axton's fur blended with the dark of the night, and he pressed his flank to Sarah's legs as she scratched behind his ears. They both looked at the black and endless sea, but they saw precious little.

"I'm worried too," she murmured. "I'm worried too."

Wordless, Axton leaned against her harder, seeking reassurance.

"You know, I still don't think he's a reliable factor here," Axton said, tapping a map on the table, unconsciously drumming where home would be.

Home.

"Okay," Axton said finally. "I think we can do that."

"I still think it's too risky," Sarah said.

"You'll be safe," Axton said. "We separate before then, right?"

There was a silence. Leander looked at the ceiling with a pained look that said he had regrets about a conversation he wasn't even involved in. It looked like he was embarrassed for someone--possibly everyone--else in the room.

"Not for me," Sarah said.

"Oh," Axton said, nonplussed. "Sorry?"

"Oh my god," Sarah muttered. "Oh my fucking god."

Axton liked to take in the dawn as it slipped across the sea, moved by how light spilled across the water. On the ocean his body was no less attuned to the cycle of night and day, so he always awoke in time, effortless.

At first when he slipped out of bed to go watch the sunrise, Leander had always startled and nearly refused to let him go alone.

"It's just to the deck," Axton whispered, splaying his palm over Leander's chest, urging him to stay down.

Muddled by sleep, Leander wouldn't loosen his grip, and Axton knew that Leander feared losing him again, even now. Sometimes he cried out for Axton as he dreamed.

Even on mornings when Axton woke up as a wolf, Leander held him tight.

"Just to watch the sunrise," Axton would murmur on the days that he woke up with a human voice. "Just for that. Please."

"I'll go with you," Leander would say, voice rough at the edges, when he was coherent enough for words.

"Shh," Axton would say, kissing him on the temple. "Let me have this silence."

And mostly, Leander did, though often enough he would wait five minutes and be able to wait no more, and he would grope his way up deck to find Axton, and they would lean together, shoulder to shoulder, and watch the sunrise.

The ocean was especially beautiful the day they headed towards shore, with clear blue water like fluid gems and sunlight tossed plentifully across the sea like gold. Waves frolicked prettily, coquettishly, in the breeze, and Axton breathed deep just to feel the salty tang of clean marine air. They had gone far north enough that it was cold. Axton found it pleasant and wore a single flannel shirt. Sarah was refusing to go outside if it wasn't high noon and sunny. Leander was looking scruffily bearded, wearing a knitted cap and layers topped off by a fisherman's sweater. He seemed oddly, quietly thrilled about his new seafaring life.

"I'm Earnest Hemmingway," he told Axton. "But more manly, less drunk, and less likely to shoot myself in the foot."

"You are having way too much fun on this boat," Axton said.

"I was born to be on a boat," Leander said.

"Good job buying a cabin in a landlocked state," Axton said.

"It was cheaper," Leander grinned. "It was so much cheaper than buying a boat. Let alone a boat like this."

"I'm glad that cost was the deciding factor," Axton said mildly.

"My cabin came with a hot next door neighbor," Leander confided. "It was a good deal."

"Oh yeah?" Axton asked, sounding politely uninterested.

"Yeah, you know, kind of standoffish, though," Leander went on. "Something of a fixer-upper, you understand."