Wyatt

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Wyatt didn’t intend to leave a body to earn questions. Clearly Quinn had the same idea, because she’d brought in more supplies. He wanted to know how she knew where to steal the items. More, he wanted to know…everything.

They returned to the cave for Goliath and the stallion gave them both a baleful look when they appeared in the opening. Unsurprisingly, his old friend had not enjoyed being left behind. Enough so that when Quinn went to put a hand on him to transport the stallion with them, the horse snapped at her, then trotted away from them both.

Goliath would return under his own power.

The ranch was in an uproar when Wyatt returned with Quinn.

“Wondering where you disappeared to,” Cody said by way of greeting. The younger man had been more wolf than human for years. He’d finally managed to blend the two sides of his existence into one of raw force. “Scarlett had the baby.”

“She is well?” Wyatt strode up the steps onto the verandah, which ran the length of the ranch house. It seemed more suited to a plantation than a ranch house.

“She’s fine.” His brother unfolded from where he sprawled on a chair. Despite the cold air, Cody didn’t wear a coat. Unsurprising really, as the wolf had always run hot. “Where the hell did you disappear to?” His gaze went from Wyatt to Quinn. The transporter hadn’t followed Wyatt up the steps, but her expression remained impassive at Cody’s guarded hostility.

“To deal with some matters.” Living on the Flying K had given his adopted siblings a semblance of independence. They didn’t obey as easily as they once had. And they demanded more than his patience allowed. “Gather your brothers.”

If they were going to go with him, then they would make their decisions now. Lingering at the ranch only allowed Adam more time to throw his forces at them, and there were too many innocents here.

Too many lives which could be lost or manipulated. Adam knew he was coming. The sooner Wyatt arrived, the better for all of them.

“They’ll be here.” Cody, however, didn’t move. “Go see Scarlett. She had a long morning, and she deserves to see her brother.” His focus riveted on Quinn. “I’ll keep your guest here.”

With a sigh, Wyatt glanced over his shoulder. Quinn looked away from the house, and focused on three riders headed toward the ranch house.

The witches.

Straightening, he eyed the three as Quinn strode away from the porch to greet them. An itch started at the back of his spine. Cocking his head, he listened. A change followed them on the wind—a warning? A promise?

Dammit.

Pivoting, he followed her. Scarlett wanted to see him and to show him the baby. Wyatt didn’t like to be too close to infants. They were too delicate, too easily damaged. Better for everyone if he kept his distance.

The woman rode ahead of her brothers to greet Quinn. Their disheveled appearance suggested they had traveled a long way. “We had to take shelter from the storm or we would have been here sooner.” The girl—Jenny—said. “Before you remonstrate us for returning, we discussed it as a family. These people will need us and if there is to a be war…”

Her brothers reached them. The tallest of the pair leaned forward and nudged his hat away from his face. His gaze went from Quinn to Wyatt, then back to Quinn. “No more running. As long as we flee, he will pursue. If there is a chance to defeat him once and for all, then we are with you.”

How the hell would they even know their plan?

“I did a seeing,” Jenny said, as if answering his unspoken question. Witches.

With a sweep of her hand, Quinn removed her hat and glared at them. The set of her jaw said more for her displeasure than the dour look in her eyes. She’d already accepted their decision, though she didn’t care for it.

“You will participate only if you can follow orders.” Stern warning occupied every syllable. “Impulsive choices and rash actions will only get you killed faster.”

Folding his arms, Wyatt let her handle them. These three troublemakers were her problems. The seven Morning Stars were his.

The Kanes?

“You’re going to stay here while he sleeps?” Quanto glanced from the exhausted boy sleeping in the bed to where Wyatt stood sentinel at the window. The empath had no control, and his gift used him with a viciousness, exhausting and attacking in equal measures.

“Yes,” he replied without much inflection. Quanto’s advanced age meant the child could do more harm than good. He wasn’t ready to lose his oldest friend yet—and more—something about the boy’s nature reminded him of a person Wyatt hadn’t been in years beyond counting.

“He’s not Scarlett.” The reminder was hardly necessary. When Quanto rescued the infant from somewhere in Kansas, neither of them had been prepared for her fiery gift. Her burns couldn’t kill Wyatt, and he could hold her even when her upset turned into a raging inferno. He’d spent months looking after her, rising with her in the night, and settling her back to sleep.

Cody had eventually settled it for all of them when the wolf took to sleeping next to her crib and later her bed. The wolf soothed her, and eventually the night terrors went away and with them the threat of turning the cabin to ash.

“No, he’s worse.” She had been a baby, and innocent with no real awareness. “Scarlett’s danger was obvious. He looks helpless, but he’s not. Go get some rest, I’ll take care of him for now.”

Arms folded, Wyatt leaned against the wall. The first day he’d met Kid, he’d known the boy needed to not leave the mountain. It had been Quanto who told him to let him go.

His instincts had been to keep him, but he’d acquiesced to Quanto’s demand.

“You could have killed him. You had plenty of opportunity. Yet you chose not to…”

“Don’t read too much into it.” Perhaps Kid was a living reminder of his past mistakes, but the boy had done something different. He’d asked Wyatt to kill him if he couldn’t be controlled. More, he’d been relieved when Wyatt agreed. “There’s still time to deal with him.”

Maybe to save him.

Save him in a way he’d been unable to save his own brother.

“You chose not to kill Delilah before Buck took you into the dreaming.” The observation served as a reminder, but Delilah hadn’t been Katherine. Unlike the siren whose love had nearly destroyed him, Delilah wasn’t selfish.

“You’re pushing it old man.” Quanto knew him too well, but Wyatt didn’t want to relive his past. Not with Kid so close, and not when he might be salvageable. “Go rest. You’re no good to any of us dead.” Kid might survive, if Wyatt could keep him under control until he was ready for Quanto’s guidance.

“You like him.” Delight filled Quanto’s voice. The old man was the only real friend he’d allowed himself in decades, more because Quanto wouldn’t be driven away than anything else.

When the old man finally left the room, Wyatt settled in for the night and he split his attention between the wounded soul on the bed and the storm beyond the window. He’d waited a long time. He could afford to wait a little longer…

The Kanes were Kid’s problem. The impetuous youth, utterly at the mercy of his gift, had grown and matured. With the Kanes securing the ranch, his siblings would have a place to retreat to as well.

From behind the witches came another, a young man. Youth, already tempered by experience, kept the youth from interjecting himself into the conversation. Jenny dismounted and approached Quinn, an apology in her eyes.

“Stop,” Quinn said, raising a hand and, in the single syllable, she revealed her capitulation to their wishes. “My task is to protect your bloodline, and to keep you safe. If you plan to ride into the devil’s mouth, then you must only agree that one of you will remain here.”

“Julianna will stay,” the first brother said, but Jenny had other ideas apparently. “Kent will stay. He’s more versed in the healing magics.”

“Juliana,” the elder snarled her name, with every ounce of impatience one sibling can have for another.

“We discussed this, David. No more lies, no more pretending to be what we’re not. We have a male and female shaman. We need a male and female witch—and male and female First Ones. We need the balance.”

Wyatt suppressed a groan—balance? The witch wanted to focus on duality, now?

He hated witches. “Sort them out. Prepare whatever you’re taking. We will be riding tomorrow.”

With that, he pivoted and headed for the house. Whatever they were—witches, Fevered, or First Ones—they were weapons. Weapons he could use in the coming war.

If he thought of them as people any longer, more would die.

A sigh brushed over him, and he spared a look at the sky.

We did it your way, Old Man. Now we do it mine.

---

Quinn

---

Between one breath and the next, Wyatt transformed from impatient man to general. His manner shifted and he stood taller. The coldness in his eyes contained a singular flame, and his steps were heavier as he marched toward the house.

Silence blanketed the Matthews witches. Above, the sun finally broke through the gray clouds and illuminated the snow with golden rays. Following Wyatt might net her a few more answers, but it wasn’t where she was needed. Her chest and sides still ached from the earlier encounter with the Fevered.

“You should get your horses tended then come inside. I’m certain there will be more arguments before this is settled.” The ranch might not be hers to issue invitations, but the owners seemed interested in looking after the witch family when she snuck them away. Shifting her attention, she glanced at the young man approaching. Fevered. Strength radiated from him.

He’d be a powerful ally, but his age made him not ideal for their war. He should be home with the other innocents. “I’ll give you a hand with the horses,” he was saying, so Quinn left the witches with him and finally turned toward the house.

The blond wolf stood on the steps studying her. He hadn’t gone inside to follow Wyatt, which suggested another confrontation in the offing. Exhaustion from the night coupled with constant battles left her on edge. Schooling her features, she paused at the steps and met the wolf’s blue-gold gaze. The pale gold began to fill in and darken his eyes, but he didn’t move.

Waiting him out, she prepared for his first move. If she had to put his wolf to sleep, she would. The time for these types of battles grew thin.

“Are you a friend or a foe?” His question shouldn’t have surprised her, yet both the choice of words and his manner did.

“I’m neither,” she said rather than trying to soothe him with a platitude. “This is my war and has been since the day I was born.”

“Then why help us?” A fair inquiry perhaps.

“Because we are waging her war.” The answer came from his wife—mate?—as the dark-haired woman joined them on the porch. “Cody, leave her alone.” The accent in her voice tugged a thread of familiarity in Quinn’s memory, but she couldn’t place it. “We have enough enemies. We don’t need anymore.”

“We don’t need potential enemies, either.” Though he reached for his wife’s hand, Cody didn’t withdraw from his challenge.

“Allies don’t have to be friends, they just have to have the same goals.”

Quinn couldn’t remember her name, because there had been too many introduced. The pregnant wolf offered reason and attempted peace. The wolf would respond to neither of those things. If he had been in his wolf form, his hackles would be up. He didn’t trust Quinn.

“I don’t trust you either, boy.” Quinn didn’t soften her words. “I have no reason to, nor do I plan to seek your approval. For now, MacPherson is our mutual enemy. Let that be enough reason to work together.”

“Fine,” Cody agreed, surprising her. “Then let us also agree that the moment you turn on us, we will kill you.”

Brave kid, but not a lot of brains. Quinn merely raised her eyebrows and waited. He lingered a moment longer than necessary on the steps before withdrawing and allowing her to enter the house. She could have done it the hard way, but they had enough issues.

An hour later, Quinn regretted not pushing the hard way. The shouting in the living room had reached a crescendo. Several voices vied to be heard, yet Wyatt stood near the center of the chaos and let the men try to shout each other down. The women were hardly silent on the matter, their voices rising and falling in the din.

How the hell did these people get anything done?

Julianna sat near the edge of the debate. Her brothers were deeply involved, but like Quinn, she said nothing. Withdrawing from the clamor, Quinn made her way back outside. Though the snow had ceased, so the cooler temperatures proved soothing after the hot air blowing from the hotheads inside.

A baby had been born.

The barrier was alive.

Who would go? Who would stay?

The ties that bound them all together might make them a strong force to be reckoned with, but it also made them annoying.

Bracing her hands on the railing, she focused on the horizon. Why did they have to discuss everything? Why didn’t they just obey? At the rate they were going, the battle would be over before they left the ranch.

Then why stay? The question came from deep within—a voice she’d long since learned to listen to when it came to facing the challenges before her. Rosemary once said the voice was the combined force of their ancestors. Her own parents educated her in the ways of the spirits, the ancestors, and the forces of the world. After Rosemary bound her to the coven, with a leash to control her rising power, she’d said, “Jessica, you must always remember our first duty is to humanity. We are guardians of what is, not arbiters of what must be.”

“Quinn?” The one called Kid stepped out onto the porch. He’d pitched his voice low, probably to keep it from carrying back to the others inside. They, however, were shouting once more. The chances of being overheard were slight.

“Yes?” Turning, she disciplined her expression to keep her thoughts her own.

The empath wore a troubled expression, one he’d worn since returning shortly after her and Wyatt. “Would you be opposed to answering a few direct questions?” Concern deepened the grooves around the corners of his mouth.

She didn’t answer to anyone, normally. These were extraordinary circumstances. The man’s need pushed at her—not directly, and she had no sense of his gift groping or grasping—yet she wanted to help.

“As much as I am able, but it would depend on the questions.” Some information, after all, was not hers to share.

“Thank you.” Joining her at the railing, Kid leaned against the wood and folded his arms. “Have you met MacPherson before?”

“Briefly.” Though an assassination might not be the type of meeting Kid meant.

“Is he as powerful as Delilah and the others believe?”

“More.” There was no downplaying the menace that was Adam MacPherson. “He desires control over everything and everyone. Control requires power, so he draws power to him through compulsion or coercion, whatever works.”

“And if he can’t control or coerce? He kills?” Kid followed the natural line of logic.

“Yes.” Quinn blew out a breath. “He is like a boogeyman. His strength comes from intimidation and creating fear in others. You haven’t ever been back East, have you?”

“No. Jason has. Most of us, we’re happy right here.” Which made sense, because they had created their own world here. A safe world—a Haven.

“Fevered do not gather in large groups like you have here. They isolate themselves. Sometimes they escape to the west. The cities have larger populations, and it’s easier to hide one or two than it is to hide thirty or forty. He travels amongst the cities, always staying on the outskirts, drawing them out to him.”

“So, he hunts actively for Fevered?”

“Yes, always. He’s come this way before…” Though he didn’t venture west or this far south often. After meeting Wyatt, she thought she knew why, too.

“He’s been to this ranch at least once.” Kid’s posture didn’t change, yet worry seemed to coat every single word. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Suspected.” He and his brother were far too powerful. “I have pursued him a long time, but I was also forbidden from doing so for even longer. If he came this way, he pursued Wyatt or sought to create a foothold against him.”

That would make sense. Wyatt’s family was here, but were they here because Adam had been or had Adam come because he’d known…?

“Hell…” She pushed off the railing. That had always been a threat, but if MacPherson had a seer, they were in a hell of a lot more danger.

“What?” Kid zeroed in on her, a frown tightening his brow.

“We need Wyatt.” As much as she hated to admit it, he would understand the threat far better than the younger ones. They still viewed everything from their position of strength, buoyed by prior successes, and the safe world they’d built for themselves.

“I’ll get him,” Kid said, then paused mid-step to study her.

“What?” The last thing she wanted was to go back inside. If anything, they should be on the road, moving. The longer they took, the easier they might be making it for MacPherson. He wouldn’t expect them until summer. The sooner they moved, the more likely they could avoid the traps he’d set.

“Are you on our side?” The question demanded an answer, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate hers.

“I’m not against you, not yet. None of you have acted in a way that would require me to act.” Because her answer hardly offered any kind of comfort, she added. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I can’t promise much more than that.”

She and Wyatt already had a type of understanding.

“I guess that will have to do,” Kid said, and pushed away from the railing. Power shimmered around the younger Kane, but his focus wasn’t on her but the wild debate inside. “I’ll send Wyatt out, after I soothe some tempers.”

With that, he left her alone on the porch once more and she looked toward the distance. Snow still covered the land, despite the sunshine’s valiant fight to penetrate the cloud cover. The weather Fevered might be dead, but his work still lingered.

Even if they killed MacPherson—finally—everything he’d done would linger, too.

They couldn’t erase the past; they could only preserve the future.

Maybe.