Текст книги "Mate"

Автор книги: Ali Hazelwood

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

CHAPTER 30

She is meant for him, but they couldn’t be more impossible.

IHOLD MY BREATH. STAY PERFECTLY STILL. MY MUSCLES COIL, AS if to keep my body from breaking open, stop my organs and blood from pouring onto the floor.

Then Koen says, “I’ve been suspecting it for a few days,” and I fall apart.

“What?” I sound reedy. Maybe that’s why Koen ignores my question. Doesn’t look at me. Continues his conversation with Irene, composed, detached, like the topic is only mildly diverting. Broken boilers. The weather. Him, killing my mother.

“And yet you didn’t tell her. How self-serving of you.”

“I wanted to be certain, before informing her that one or more of her parents were high-profile figures in a cult with a sky-high body count.”

Irene sneers. “Now you know for sure.” She points at me with a flourish. “Tell her what happened that night. The Favored would like to know, too, wouldn’t we, friends? All we had to go by were the rotting corpses.”

“Very well.” Koen takes a deep breath. Turns to me. Lifts his bound hands onto the table, leaning over his elbows, and locks eyes with me dispassionately.

Then he starts.

“Every raid that was launched against the cult, every search for those who had played a part in attacks against the Northwest, I led. And yes, I was the one who killed Constantine. But you knew that.” He inches closer. “We found him in a ramshackle cottage up north. He knew that we had him surrounded, and sent his companions ahead to buy time. We worked our way through them. When I reached him, he was in wolf form. I forced him to shift back to human and later brought his corpse back to Northwest territory. I extracted his heart. The rest was left on a cliff for the vultures and other scavengers to feed on. This is the story– no more and no less.”

My vision is blurry, whether from tears or the fever, I’m not sure. “I don’t care about him. He deserved it. But what about . . .” I can’t think over the blood pounding in my ears. I hate it, that I feel grateful toward Irene for asking what I can’t bring myself to.

“What about Fiona, her mother? Did you kill her, too?”

At last, a flicker of hesitation. Koen’s jaw works. After a moment, he says, “I won’t lie to you. It’s possible.”

Irene scoffs. “Have you killed so many Human women that you can no longer recall them?”

“I don’t know. Did you shield Constantine with so many Human women that I lost track?”

“What– what do you mean?” I ask.

He meets my eyes again. Any trace of the anger he showed when discussing Constantine is gone. “When I said that he sent his companions ahead to buy time, Serena, I mean it. If you are certain that your mother was with Constantine that night . . .”

“We are,” Irene says.

“Then yes. I killed her.” Koen is sorry but not repentant. It’s clear in his eyes that he would go back and do it all over again. Then be sad about it all over again.

Irene nods, a bitter, satisfied smile curving her lips.

“Was it you?” I ask, trembling. “Or Jorma? Or Amanda? Or– ”

“It was me, Serena.” His voice is precise. Cutting. “I am the Alpha of the Northwest. Every move, every action, every killing is sanctioned by me. My seconds are an extension of my hand. Whether I tore into your mother’s throat myself or not, I’m still her killer. Do you really need me to explain this? Do you understand your people so little? What did I tell you?”

We are not Human.

My insides twist. “What about me? Why didn’t you kill me?”

“You were not standing between me and Constantine, Serena.” For a moment, his expression flickers. Like he’s scanning my features. Cataloging them. Comparing them against an image in his head. His tone loses some of its ice. He’s remembering something, something that was lost until now. “You were hiding.”

“What?”

“In a closet. There was a Human girl with dark hair. She was skeletal and refused to talk.” He searches my features. Sandpapers the years off my face.

“W– what happened to her?”

He swallows. “I brought her to the Human social worker.”

“Was she . . . me?” I whisper.

Hesitation. “When Lowe first told me about hybrids, we immediately got in touch with Human Child Services to track down children of the cult. We were told that they were all accounted for.”

“Then how– ”

“A lie. Most likely, someone examined you, realized that you were a hybrid, and alerted Governor Davenport. And after that . . . you appeared in Paris when you were about six. But the girl I turned in to Human Child Services was at least a couple of years younger than that.”

“Then, if I’m her . . . where was I during those years?”

His jaw shifts side to side. “I don’t know,” he says.

My lips tremble. It’s hard to shape the words. “How– how can you not remember whether you killed my mother? Whether you met me when I was a child?”

“Serena.” He huffs a laugh but seems as shaken as I am. “I killed so many people. I made so many orphans.”

It feels like he’s killing me, now. Like he’s carving my heart out of my chest.

“Did you ever stop to wonder if maybe they were better off among us than with Humans who would never care for them as we could?” Irene asks sharply.

Silence. Did he? He might not remember that, either.

“So you killed both my parents. And then you found me. And then you l– left me alone.”

He doesn’t flinch away or deflect. Just nods. Admits, “I did, Serena.”

I shake my head. Try to wipe at my cheeks, but it doesn’t work. There are too many tears coming.

“How do you feel, Eva?” Irene asks, odiously kind.

“I don’t know. I . . . I . . .” I cannot look at Koen. Don’t want to. “I’m sad. And I’m . . . I’m so angry, and you don’t even– She was my mother, the only person who ever cared about me, and you don’t even remember if you fucking killed her– ”

I stop at the noise of something sliding across the mahogany. Blink through the tears. Watch it, incongruously pink and cutesy against the paper of my mother’s letter.

It’s the knife. My knife. The one Koen gave me to protect myself. The one I used against Jess. How did it end up here?

“How angry are you, Serena?” Irene asks. “At this man who murdered your family in cold blood? He took away your childhood and your home and didn’t even stick around long enough to make sure that you were taken care of. If he hadn’t killed Fiona, the three of us could have been together. There would have been no orphanage. No Vampyres. No Northwest. You could have been happy. But Koen took that away from you. So let me ask you one more time . . . How angry are you?”

“I’m not– ” I start, shaking my head– and then stop.

Slowly, I let my eyes settle on Koen. His quiet expression betrays none of the turmoil I’m feeling. How angry am I?

A lot. A lot.

“Here.” The knife makes its way into my hand, already unfolded. “This man was angry, and he hurt you and your family. Now that you are angry, what will you do, Eva?”

This is a dream. A nightmare. I can’t be awake as I clutch the plastic handle and walk around Irene’s chair, dazed but determined. But I know what I must do.

I know that it’s right.

Someone drags Koen’s chair to the side to give me better access to him. Four hands keep him still, pinned to the chair, but there’s no need. Koen isn’t thrashing or wriggling away. There is no pleading, nor an attempt to convince me that I’m overreacting. He sits quietly, looking up at me like I’m a queen. His life and death are but my decision. He wouldn’t dream of objecting. If I want to carve his heart out of his chest, he’ll crack his rib cage open and lie prone for me.

My hands tremble, but not too much. I can do this. I can.

“You can do this,” Irene reminds me. “You are owed.”

I nod. This is my right. “I’m sorry,” I whisper at Koen, letting the tip of the blade graze the soft spot on the side of his neck. I’ve kissed that spot. Licked it. Buried my face in it.

I adjust my grip. I’m sorry, I think.

With a firm swipe, I slice the ropes that tie his wrists together.

CHAPTER 31

The girl was small. He’d have put her around three, but the Humans said she was older than that. At the time he knew little of children and nothing of Humans, and so he believed them.

She clung to him, her little arms skeletal around his neck. Her scent had a strident, chemical note, as though she had been given something that would keep her docile. “It’s what they did with the other kids, too,” the social worker told him grimly.

The child was asleep in his arms, and as he handed her over, he wondered, Is all of this a mistake? But when the Human took her, he noticed that his hands had stained the girl’s shirt a bright green.

AFTER A LIFETIME SPENT DISSECTING HIS PARENTS’ DECISIONS, Koen was bound not to replicate their mistakes. I blame the fever and the drugs for not having realized it earlier, but it all starts making sense when several large wolves jump into the room.

Through the windows.

The closed windows.

I count four, then everything turns into pandemonium. Rainfalls of shattered glass. Toppled furniture. Screams and growls and the bone-snapping sounds of the shift. It happens so quickly, when a strong arm loops around my waist, my first reaction is to strike back.

Then I realize who I just hit, and gasp. “Sorry!”

“Fucking sharp elbows,” Koen mutters. Jess and another of the guards who brought him in are lying at his feet. The third is outside, being chased by a rust-colored wolf. Jorma.

“Where did Irene go?” he asks the only cult Were who hasn’t shifted. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Where the fuck did– ”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Koen mutters something about a waste of space and tucks me behind him. “Saul! Here!” A brown wolf quickly defeats his gray opponent, then turns to us. He leaps over Jess’s unconscious body and positions himself next to me, snarling at no one in particular. “Do not leave her side.”

“What– Koen?” I grip his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“To find Irene.”

No, I nearly protest. But why? “If you find Human members, please don’t– ”

“Serena.” His forehead briefly touches me. “We do not hurt Humans if we can help it.” Our eyes meet for a split second. I nod. Koen does, too. I feel him take my hand and slip something in it– the pink knife.

A second later, his glossy black fur is in the thick of the fight. He snaps his jaw around the idiot who tries to stop him, then chases Irene’s scent. I don’t take my eyes off him until I hear a sob behind me.

I race to the living room, finding Nele and her family huddled together in a corner with two Human boys. When I rush to kneel in front of her, they all scream in sheer terror.

“It’s just me. Nele, we were together earlier. Alone. I wouldn’t hurt you, would I?” I make a show of putting the knife down. Lift my hands. “It’s okay. They’re not here for you. Saul, can you please look less like you’re craving steak? Thanks.” It breaks my heart, the way Nele glances up at me, eyes brimming with tears and panic. Was it like this for me, too? In that closet? Did Fiona push me in there and tell me that it was going to be okay? “Nele, you and your family will be okay, I swear.” Some of the tension leaves her body. “Just stay out of the Weres’ way.”

“They’re going to kill us,” her mother says. “They are here to– ”

“They only came here to take me back.”

“How can you believe that? You heard what he said– they killed your mother.”

I clench my teeth. “Am I not your prophet’s daughter, too?” Their eyes widen, and I continue, “Trust me.” That seems to do it. They look slightly less like they expect to have their livers chomped on.

“What about Irene?” Nele asks, weakly.

“She’s gone.” Saving her own ass.

“Are they going to . . . to hurt her?”

“I don’t know.” Saul makes a barking noise. “Maybe.”

“But she’s your only family.”

I snort. “You saw that tall guy out there?”

She nods.

“He’s more my family than– ”

“Serena!” Amanda runs inside the room, naked, covered in blood and other unidentifiable fluids that should never be found outside a body.

“Are you okay?” I frantically inspect her limbs.

“Yes.” She grins. Saul bumps her hip with his muzzle, looking just as worried. “Come on, you guys. This shit ain’t mine. Serena, are you okay?”

“Is the fight out there– ” The cabin has gone quiet. “Are they . . . ?”

“Yup. And the others went after Irene and another Were who escaped. Serena, we were so fucking worried about you. Shit, you’re bleeding. But it’s just a graze. Let me make sure you didn’t break anything.” She gently presses against my jawbone– and instantly pulls back.

“Serena.”

“What?”

Her hand touches my forehead. I’m seized by the sudden temptation to break her wrist. “Did they give you something? You’re burning up.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay.”

“I am. Just, could you . . . not touch me?”

“What?” She examines my face. I do feel like I’m boiling.

“My skin. Could you please not– ”

“What the fuck?”

Touch me.

“Serena? Serena!”

And that, as they say, is that.

WHEN I OPEN MY EYES AGAIN, IT’S DARK. THE MIDLEVEL HEADACHE that has been my loyal golden retriever companion is finally gone. In its stead, a dragon-worthy migraine pummels at my temples, clear proof that I’m dead and my corpse was sold to med students for skull-trepanning practice.

And yet.

If I were waking up in any other angle of the observable universe, I’d be rolling off the bed and lurching toward the toilet, ready to vomit my stomach lining. But whoever brought me here had the good foresight to deposit me in the only place where I’m not constantly surrounded by hostile, belly-churning stimuli.

Koen’s room.

The scent of him has a morphine-like effect on me. I bury my face in the pillow, take several deep, lung-filling breaths, and use the bathroom. On my way to the living room, I make a pit stop on the bed, inhale a few more times, and walk down the hallway feeling like new.

I expect– no, I want to find Koen alone. Instead, I count six more people, maxing out every sittable surface: his three closest seconds, Sem and Layla, and Karolina.

I stand in the doorway, and a crystal-clear thought seeps through the atoms that make my being: How dare they be here?

It’s rapidly followed by: I’m going to kill them.

What? No. I’m not. I take a preventative step back. Hold on to the wall and remind myself that I do not want any of these people to be dead. In fact, I’m invested in them staying alive. But my instinct tells me that they should go away, stop invading my space, spreading their scents, their too loud voices, and their bodies in our—

This must be some new Heat bullshit. I firmly shove it back where it came from and interrupt the ongoing conversations to ask, “Did you find Irene?”

Seven pairs of eyes rocket to me. Six pairs of legs stand and come fuss around me, asking how I’m doing, telling me that I was out for hours, attempting to feel my temperature. My father was directly responsible for the deaths of their friends and family, and yet here they are. Clearly not wishing ill on me. The thought forms a lump in my throat.

I ignore it and focus on Koen, who’s unimpressed with me. He sits on a chair someone brought in from the porch, legs spread wide, elbow folded atop the back, and orders the others in his most dispassionate tone, “Get the fuck away from her.”

A bunch of Oh, right. My bad. Amanda points me at the spot she vacated on the couch. “I forgot about the whole, um, hypersensitivity thing.” I take a seat, and they all gawk at me as though I may have forgotten how to perform the complex enterprise of bending my knees. It’s offensive, how wonderstruck they are when my butt touches the cushion. Except for Koen, who just exudes a mildly irritated aura.

“You guys, I’m fine.”

“Still, I’d like to look you over,” Layla says. “I brought my equipment.”

Thank God it’s injection time. I cannot wait to be rid of these Heat symptoms. “Yes. But first– ”

“No, we did not find Irene,” Koen interrupts me. “We were able to track her scent for a few miles, but the rain erased her trail. There were eight other Weres in the cabin. Four are dead. Jess is injured and has not regained consciousness yet. Another Were escaped, and we captured the remaining ones, who have been questioned but don’t appear to be sharers. We’ve interviewed everyone who has had prolonged contact with Jess, as well as the family who raised her, and they’re all shocked by her ties to the cult. The six Humans are now in Northwest territory and under surveillance, because”– he continues, noticing my frown– “Irene left. We’re not sure whether they are self-sufficient or, even worse, whether Irene will decide that they know too much and have them killed. We have contacted the Human authorities. In the meantime, they are not our captives, but our guests. They are terrified but unharmed. This is the gist of it, but if you’d like to know more, there is the report”– he glances at Jorma, who appears pleased with himself– “that I was asked to turn in.”

“It’s not all of them. The cult, I mean. They weren’t all in that cabin. They told me that there are– ”

“Over fifty of them, yes. We are devoting considerable manpower to tracking the others. Anything else you’d like to know before you allow Layla to make sure that you’re not fucking dying?” The last few words are strained. I really don’t want to make him snap, but.

“Could you– is anyone going to be checking on them? The Humans, I mean.”

“Me,” Amanda says.

“When you go, could you give Nele a way to contact me?”

“Who?”

“The youngest Human girl. Long auburn hair, freckles? If she needs anything . . .”

Amanda glances at Koen, who nods. “I will,” she says.

“Thanks, Amanda, I really appreciate it. Are you okay, by the way? Was anything– ”

“Serena,” Koen grunts. “I swear to fucking– ”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“I’m sorry about what happened at the office,” Layla tells me as soon as we’re in Koen’s room.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s not blame each other for stuff we did at scalpelpoint.”

She smiles, but her eyes are shiny. “I was so out of it, I couldn’t sound the alarm, and– ”

“Believe me, you did everything you could. I would hug you to underscore my point, but the idea of touching anyone who isn’t– Well, I’d rather not. Let’s do it after the injection.”

Layla bites her lower lip. “I don’t have good news for you, Serena.”

Not being called Eva feels so damn nice, the words don’t immediately register. Then they do, and ice pools in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

“You are too close.”

“Too close to . . . ?”

“Your Heat.”

She’s joking, right? “It’s not even a full twenty-four hours after we were planning to do the injection.”

“I know. In all honesty, I’m starting to wonder whether an injection this morning would have been effective, given how fast you’re progressing.”

“You haven’t even checked me yet. How can you tell?”

“Your scent, for one. Your pupils are permanently dilated. Your resting heartbeat is much quicker than yesterday, your breathing is shallow, and . . . When have you last eaten or drank?”

“I don’t know. Probably . . .” This morning? No. Not really. Yesterday? I must have, but—

“Are you thirsty? Hungry? Should I get you something?”

I quickly shake my head. “No, thank you.” Shit. Shit. “Is it normal?”

“For a Were on the edge of Heat? Absolutely. Once it starts in earnest, you’ll have to remember to drink often, or you’ll dehydrate soon, and that’ll make the post-Heat days a nightmare. We brought over supplies– ”

“We?” A wave of horror twists my guts. “Does everyone know?”

She cocks her head. “At this point, no Were of reproductive age would miss it.”

I let myself fall back on the mattress. Maybe I could grab a fork from the kitchen, fall upon it, and encounter a swift and merciful death.

“That’s not a bad thing, Serena. Your scent is attractive to Weres right now.”

Probably better to just make out with a piranha and hope he’ll eat me.

“It’s a testament to the Alpha’s trust in his seconds and his pack members that he’s allowing them inside the cabin to be in his ma– in your presence, so close to your Heat. And a testament to how much they respect him and you– ”

“What if I take the shot anyway?” I sit up. “Why not try, at least?”

“It could make your Heat last longer or be more painful. Worse, it could inflict long-term damage to your reproductive system.”

“What if I’m willing to take the risk?”

“Serena.” She pins my eyes with hers. Listen carefully, they say. Because I’m in charge. In her own way, she’s as scary as Koen. Scarier. “No self-respecting healthcare professional will give you that shot right now. What I can give you, however”– she turns to her bag and pulls out a small packet– “is this.”

It’s so unsubstantial, as I hold it up to the light, I wonder if she’s joking. “What is it?”

“Contraceptive pills.”

I blink. “What? I can’t even . . .”

“We don’t know that for sure. These will prevent pregnancy. If you would like that, take them after your Heat is over.”

“How will I know– when is the Heat over?”

“You’ll know, believe me.”

I don’t want to believe her. Or to know. “Why would I need contraceptives? Is there some kind of asexual reproduction . . . I can’t get pregnant just by having a Heat, right?”

She stands. Sets a small card on Koen’s nightstand. “You have my number. For any question, call me. Anytime.”

“Layla, I don’t understand.”

“If I don’t answer, Sem will. But for the most part, it’ll be a very intuitive process– ”

“Layla.”

At last, she stops. She glances in the direction of the door. Then murmurs, “I won’t tell a soul. And neither will any of the seconds.”

“I . . . Why does it sound like people have been talking about this?”

She swallows. “I know this embarrasses you, but it’s not . . . We are not Human, Serena.”

We are not Human.

“We don’t feel like you do when it comes to our bodies. I know every person in that room. I know Koen. And I really . . . I wouldn’t have wanted this for him.”

Who else has told me these very same words? Ah, yes. Brenna. Of course. “It’s a common feeling,” I say flatly.

“I don’t mean you. It’s clear that he’s so happy with you– ”

“Happy?” Laughter bubbles out of me. “The dude who constantly looks like he’s a hairbreadth from slashing every tire in the universe?”

Layla shakes her head. “When I heard that he had found his mate, and that it was unreciprocated, my first thought was that it was a blessing in disguise. I knew from the very start that Koen would put the pack first. It’s always been his priority, after all. It would be a terrible choice to make for any Alpha– either renounce his pack for his mate or renounce his mate for his pack. But in your situation, if he chose the pack, you wouldn’t suffer from it. You didn’t want him, anyway. That made things much easier for him.” She swallows. “But this– your Heat, what you are about to experience . . . It changes everything. Koen is now being asked to choose between respecting the covenant or guaranteeing his mate’s well-being. And if you need him, he’s never going to say no.”

“I never asked him. I didn’t– ”

“Do you really think you need to ask him, Serena?”

I fist the comforter. Clench my jaw shut.

“The thing is . . . We need him, too. The Northwest needs Koen precisely because of everything I just told you. And that’s why I’m not going to tell a soul.” Her lips, I realize, are quivering. “No one will ever know where he’ll spend the next few days. He’ll be yours for a while, Serena. But after, you must return him. So think of it as a loan.” One last, sad smile. “What I always tell my daughter is that all lies come to light. Let’s hope that I’m wrong.”

A few minutes later, the cabin falls silent. Everyone leaves– except for Koen.