He’d carried her through the woods, her lifeblood staining his hands and his shirt. Beneath a wide moon and a starless sky, Finn spoke to his daughter in low, urgent tones, trying to keep her awake while he tracked Astrid’s pack. Every once in a while, he remembered that his mate was dead and he’d been forced to leave her body behind. He couldn’t lose Katie, too. The thought made him look back down at her heart-shaped face and the bleak cycle began again. “Look at me, baby. Stay with me. Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart, don’t fall asleep.”
It had been, and still was, the worst night of his entire life.
“She was beautiful, Finn,” I murmured, blinking the images away. The action caused some tears to fall, too.
Finn’s amber eyes met mine. The lump in his throat worked, and his voice was more gravelly than usual as he replied, “Yes. Yes, she was.”
Slowly, I pulled my hands back and tucked them under the table. Finn did the same. Though we couldn’t be more different physically, it felt like we were mirror images of each other. Identical in our despair. I was tired of it. I was weary of hurting. I was sick of grief. I had tried all the healthy ways of dealing with it—exercise, therapy, family. Suddenly I was in the mood for trying some unhealthy tactics.
With a hollow smile, I cocked my head at Finn. “Hey, would you like to get drunk with me?”
The werewolf searched my expression. I’d hoped he would smile or say something, and when his silence once again filled the space between us, I swallowed a sigh. Deciding to proceed with my plan anyway, I twisted around and waited until Gretchen noticed me. “Ma’am? Could we get a couple bloody marys?” I called.
She gave me a polite nod. “You got it.”
I smiled, but she had already turned away. The absence of her usual warmth made my brows lower. It wasn’t until I started fiddling with the ring that I remembered Gretchen had no idea who I was. It was harder than I’d expected, being unknown to the people I’d worked with for so long. But if it meant keeping them safe, anonymity was a price I would gladly pay.
Gretchen had just started making our drinks when a large group of men entered, leaving a row of snowmobiles parked outside. They approached the bar in a burst of noise, reeking of gasoline and sweat. Gretchen listened to their orders, nodding, already in motion. If I hadn’t been wearing the ring, I would’ve gotten up to help. Grateful my hands were still out of sight, I clenched them into fists and fixed my gaze on the table.
Ariel was the one to bring our bloody marys over. “Enjoy!” she said, flashing a white-toothed grin.
I caught the curious glance she gave me, and I knew the instant Ariel recognized my scent; her eyes brightened with curiosity. But she was a faerie, through and through, and she didn’t ask any questions. Since I had taken enough risks for one day, I didn’t offer an explanation, either. I grasped one of the drinks and pulled it close, hoping that Gretchen had been generous with her pour.
As the sun marched along its high, blue road, I drank. The bloody marys gradually became hard liquor, and if Gretchen harbored any judgment for the stranger getting tipsy in her bar, she kept it hidden. Finn was less enthusiastic in his pursuit of forgetting—the glass that rested in front of him was still his first. I never saw him put it to his mouth, but the liquid inside gradually lowered.
“You’ve become one of my best friends, you know,” I told the werewolf abruptly. Unable to look at him now, I stared into the depths of my glass. “That’s why Belanor chose you for the arena—he was trying to break me. He was right, too. The thought of killing you is what forced my powers out of a dormant state.”
More silence from his side of the table. Insecurity took root inside me. What if Amy wasn’t the only reason for Finn’s distance? Was it anger that stopped him from speaking? I raised my gaze, on the verge of apologizing for the part I’d played in what he’d endured at the Seelie Court. The words vanished from my mind when he growled, “What does he want?”
He was looking out the window again, the golden eyes that Regina liked so much shining unnaturally bright. Following them, I discovered that Gil stood on the other side of the street. He’d clearly borrowed some clothes from Adam, because he wore an oil-stained tank top beneath an unfamiliar coat. Though he wasn’t looking at us, I knew he was aware of my presence—the bond prickled from our proximity to each other. Gil’s movements were overly casual as he threw a cigarette down and ground it into the concrete with his boot.
“He’s in control, I swear,” I said quickly, seeing how Finn’s body had gone tense. He’d started to rise from the seat. I put my hand on his arm, and once again, the touch seemed to soothe him. Slowly, Finn sank down. But he didn’t take his eyes off the blond vampire trying so valiantly not to glance in our direction.
Guess it’s true what they say about vampires and werewolves, I thought. Natural enemies. Finn’s ferocity had still taken me by surprise; most of the time, I forgot that an actual wolf lurked beneath his skin. No matter how kind or how gentle he was as a person, he would always possess another side, too. A wild creature that used its teeth to tear at flesh and howled at the night sky.
The same could be said for me or Gil. I looked back at the vampire, and compassion stirred in my chest. If I concentrated on the connection between us, I could feel his uncertainty. His loneliness. Gilbert Payne’s entire life had changed, and suddenly he was in a strange place, tormented by pangs of an unbearable craving. Echoes of it reached me, like ripples of water traveling to shore. If those were merely reverberations of it, I couldn’t imagine the strength within Gil to resist. It was no small miracle that he hadn’t already come inside this bar and begun ripping the humans apart, limb from limb, spraying the air with the blood he so fiercely desired.
After a few seconds, I sensed Finn’s eyes on me. I suspected that if he were in his wolf form, the hair along his spine would’ve been standing on end.
I didn’t want to talk about Belanor or the horrors I endured at his hands, especially while I was buzzed, but it seemed inevitable. I swallowed and stared down into my near-empty glass, tilting it this way and that. “I didn’t tell you everything last night,” I said without lifting my gaze. “Before… before Belanor killed him, Gil was a Nightmare. He was like me, Finn. When I said that I brought him back to Granby because I knew Adam could help him, it was the truth. But it wasn’t the whole truth. I also think he can teach me things. Help me control my power.”
Another pause swelled between us. Eventually Finn said, his voice full of warning, “Newborns are dangerous, Fortuna.”
Now I did look up. My fingers curled tightly around the glass. “I’m dangerous, too. That hasn’t stopped you from trusting me. You probably shouldn’t—well, actually, I know you shouldn’t—but it hasn’t stopped you.”
The words came out sharper than I meant them to. I didn’t apologize, though. A muscle worked in Finn’s jaw as he stared at Gil some more. “I can smell the magic between you,” he muttered. “What else happened in that place?”
I hesitated. The bond was part of the story I’d left out last night, and I wasn’t sure why. Liar, my inner voice crooned. I cringed. Why did anyone withhold the truth? Shame and fear, a topic I happened to be an expert on. An image of Collith’s tear-filled eyes loomed in my memory, and to push it away, I thought of the awful thing I’d done in that small, white cell.