“You did it before.”
“Okay, enough,” Cal cut in. “You’re not thinking straight and we both get that, but this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“One more time for everyone in back—what happened the night Topher imprinted Was. An. Accident,” West growled. “And fuck you for rubbing it in my face.”
“So you’re just going to leave Lacey and Hayden to die?”
“Or maybe I’m just not willing to harm someone else as the lazy way out. And I can’t believe you of all people would ask.”
I bared my teeth. West glared back.
Cal stepped between us. “Let’s get to high ground. We’ll make contact with August, get their last known position—”
“I know where they are.”
As one, we turned. Topher stood at the edge of the snowy clearing. He wasn’t dressed for the cold, the Metallica tee, old canvas jacket and dark skinny jeans far too thin. Heavy silver shackles from back at the compound were clamped around his left wrist. That was how he’d been eluding us. Silver was toxic to shifters. When administered in low doses, it was used to control wolves in the feral community because of the way it suppressed the link our human sides formed with our wolves. Use enough of it and supposedly the effects were like being trapped in no-mans-land, numbed out, barely able to function. It was rumored that some of the larger urban packs had hidden underground prisons with silver built into the walls, preventing communication or escape.
“You shouldn’t have those on,” West said. “The silver—"
“Did I borrow your favorite pair or something?”
I clapped my hands. “Okay. Good talk. So the part where you can find Lacey and Hayden—?”
Topher worked his jaw. “Yeah. I can track them. But we need to go now.”
“How? They’ve gone off-grid.”
“Gonna have to trust me on that one.”
West scoffed. “Oh, okay, Mr. Told me he would be fine chilling for an hour with August. Mr. Promised he wouldn’t try anything. Mr. Fucking lied and acted like we had some goddamn heart to heart last night—”
“That what you’re so upset about?”
“Don’t start. You’ve been trying to escape for months. Trying to get back to them. I get that they messed with your head, but—”
“You think this is some Stockholm Syndrome bullshit?” Topher growled. “They held me like a goddamn animal in a cage for over a year and now I’m loyal to them?”
“Explain it to us, then,” Cal said, channeling his shrink voice like we weren’t out here in the middle of an ice storm with an army of the undead hoping to make us all into wolf-shaped throw pillows.
Topher glared. Cal stared back, face impassive. And all at once I remembered something West had told me right after Topher had come to stay in Blood Moon, that it was still excruciating for him to be around Hayden. He’d gone into Austin intending to warn her she was in danger, and accidentally bitten and changed her in a fit of feral wolf madness. Every time he saw her, he was reminded of what the wolves holding him had forced him to do each month at the full moon to other captives. And I knew then how we could get them both back. Maybe the only way.
“Let him go,” I said.
Topher eyed me warily.
“We’re going to make a trade.”
* * *
“You’ve really got some kind of death wish, huh?”
I shoved Topher hard. His hands were bound behind his back, and yeah, I hadn’t exactly been nice when tightening down the silver shackles. “Try not talking, Feral.”
“This is a stupid-ass plan.”
“Want to know what else is stupid? Chasing after a bunch of prickheads in the middle of a blizzard. Because, oh yeah, none of us would even be out here freezing our nuts off if it weren’t for you. So shut up and walk.”
He grunted, breath steaming the frozen night air. We crested the top of the next hill and emerged from the edge of the forest out onto the back acres of Jack Frost’s Christmas Tree Farm. Having come here with Lacey for the past five years, I could personally confirm every tree on the lot was identical down to the last twig, which didn’t stop Cupcake the snow elf from circling each one (and taking pictures—for comparison purposes) while I carried the gloves and saw (you know, the fun jobs) and got shot baleful looks every time I grabbed the closest victim and declared it perfect and, for fucks sake, could we please go already. Every dude there with their wives was in total solidarity with me, btw. The food truck out in the parking lot that sold cocoa and had a mini espresso bar had to be making a killing.
The valley was crisscrossed by irrigation ditches and muddy farm roads, heavy tractor treads carving deep furrows into the earth. A hundred yards away, an old red barn stood silhouetted against the winter sky. Christmas lights had been strung all along the eaves of the roof, with a miniature sleigh and four wooden reindeer prancing across the ridgepole, ready to take flight. Had to give these guys credit. They knew how to check off every last candy cane on a cozy country Christmas experience. Minus our current vampire hostage situation.
My brother’s death wish pet project and I were ten feet past the boundary line at the edge of the woods when a vampire materialized halfway between us and the barn. She started forward, snowflakes catching in her wispy pixie cut, making her look almost elf-like.
Yanking Death Wish to a stop by the back of his jacket, I slid the blade of my dagger to his jugular. The rules of engagement said neither side was served by the human authorities getting involved in supernatural business, which most of the time meant we fought using blades and fangs over bullets. The minute guns came onto the scene, there was always a clock counting down. Although given that the leeches had spent the last few weeks carrying out high-profile bombings and forcing werewolves to post terroristic threats on social media, all bets were probably off.
“That’s close enough.”
“You think I care if you kill him, mutt? You could have saved us the trouble of coming.”
“If you wanted him dead you could have taken him out a dozen times before now.” I jerked at the silver chains. “We both know you need him alive. So cut the crap.”
Topher glared over one shoulder. “You both want to quit discussing me like I’m a slab of meat?”
Pixie Cut sighed, looking bored. “Terms?”
“You have two of our people. Let’s deal.”
The vampire tilted her head. “And to think they wax poetic over the loyalty of wolves.”
“He’s not one of us. We were forced by the Council to take him in.”
The wind gusted, snow swirling up on the hillside where the old barn creaked under the weight of so much ice.
“Do you know the first thing they teach us about dealing with werewolves?”
“Enlighten me.”
Topher began to cough.
“You taste better before the blood has a chance to cool.”
Three vampires materialized right on top of us, blades drawn. Topher’s cuffs fell to the ground, a tremble barely visible in his hands as he slipped a concealed dagger from his sleeve and kicked the closest fang-head’s knife away. The change tore me from my human skin, my wolf exploding in the center of the vampires in a whirlwind of claws and teeth. Blow for blow, Topher and I fought them back. The vampire closest to me slashed in a sharp, low sweep. I leaped out of the way, crashing into a pint-sized Christmas tree. He landed on top of me, locking an arm around my neck. A fist slammed into my head. Stars exploded across my field of vision. I bit down on his arm. Another blow to the head nearly caused me to lose my grip. Black spots swarmed my vision. I locked my jaws, bearing down. I couldn’t let go. I had to get to Lacey—