Chapter Sixteen
The park in the Old River district was twenty minutes from Miranda’s apartment—if Darren had been bothering with the posted speed limits. He wasn’t.
He was terrified they wouldn’t get there in time. Scott was Darren’s closest friend. Honestly, he was Darren’s only friend, aside from Miranda.
Darren wasn’t sure if she’d call him that anymore. He wasn’t sure he deserved her to.
She was holding the grab bar above her door, her other hand clutching her purse to her lap. He could smell her anxiety, but she hadn’t said a word about his driving. She had gasped a few times, but that was it.
After what he had said to her, he was shocked she was still willing to help him. Maybe she was caught up in preventing the zombie apocalypse she had mentioned.
He couldn’t believe that was real. It had to be a metaphor or something.
Like his turning into a werewolf was a metaphor for letting his temper loose on her earlier.
If he did let himself believe her vision—and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t in a position not to—he also had to face the fact that Miranda really was trying to stop an apocalypse. The billions of lives she was trying to protect suddenly became much more real. The lives she had chosen instead of his.
And now that he was rational again, he realized he would have done the same thing. He was glad she had made that choice.
The real kicker was that she had struggled with it so much. If she was only using him, it would have been a no-brainer.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay. I know time is a factor.”
“I’m not talking about my driving.”
He glanced over at her. She had shut her eyes tight and was biting her lips. He couldn’t bring himself to slow down. If they were too late and something happened to Scott…
Darren couldn’t even think about that. They would get there in time.
How horrible must Miranda have felt sending Darren to his death? If she cared about him half as much as he cared about her, it had to be hell. And then Darren had raked her across the coals for it.
“When Jack told us about what I am, what werewolves are like, I promised myself I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Darren said.
“You might have to modify that,” she said. “If we have to fight our way out of this.”
Damn, he felt like an even bigger ass. She was ready to walk into the fire with him—again. Even after everything he’d said.
“I guess I should say I promised myself I wouldn’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” he said. “If Morrison and Mrs. Ford are working with Forester without a damned good reason, I won’t have a problem protecting you.”
“I can take care of myself. Focus on Scott. He doesn’t know what he’s walking in to.”
Darren took a turn so fast that he heard her seatbelt lock up. She threw her hand out to the dashboard to stabilize herself.
“That isn’t what I was trying to say.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “I’m sorry about what I said before. I told myself I wouldn’t hurt anybody, but I did. I hurt you. I was so worked up about what we were about to do, and when you told me about the vision…”
He shook his head. “I’ve been so focused on not hurting anyone physically. I didn’t give enough attention to not hurting you emotionally. And I’m truly sorry.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was thin and small.
“It won’t happen again. I swear to you. I am not that guy and I won’t let myself become like that. And you should know this absolutely qualifies as a ‘shoot me next time’ sort of situation.”
She let out a brief laugh, but he wasn’t joking. She had to understand how serious he was about this.
“My dad was a cop,” he said. “I remember him talking about domestic calls and how rough they were. They almost always started with an argument. People don’t think their words matter, but they do. Yelling at you like that… It’s a gateway. And I’m not okay walking through it.”
“I’m not going to shoot you because you hurt my feelings,” she said.
“I did worse than hurt your feelings. I can see it when I look at you. I destroyed something between us.”
The way she had looked at him before had made him feel amazing. Special. But he still wasn’t sure if he was special to her because of how she felt about him or how he fit into her visions.
The way she made it sound, the apocalypse—the fate of the world—literally revolved around him. It didn’t seem possible that one life could be so important.
Unless it’s hers.
She was the one with the power to alter the course of the future. And if she wanted his help, who the hell was he to say no?
She had already done so much for him. He didn’t think he would have made it through the night without going crazy or changing and killing someone without her constant presence, without her reassurances, without her touch. He would never feel that connection again, and it was his own damned fault.
His skin started to itch, his heartbeat picking up. He needed to stop thinking about that. He took another turn, feeling the wheels lift off the ground, and she gasped again.
“Let’s focus on saving Scott,” she said. “Then we can talk.”
Shit.
Scott’s life really was on the line. She hadn’t come out and said it before—just talked about the apocalypse again. Now she was trying to save Scott. Because she could. She knew it wouldn’t make the future worse.
She had told Jack that her vision of the apocalyptic future would result in his death, as well as Darren’s. Not warning Darren about Niall had prevented at least that version of the future. Even though she’d thought she was sending Darren to his doom, she’d actually saved his life by letting him be bitten.
Darren focused on that. It wasn’t a betrayal. She had done what she knew she had to do. What she knew was right. She hadn’t threatened their future with her choice, she had created it. Or at least, the possibility of it existing.
Which Darren had then destroyed.
He couldn’t think about that either. Instead, he did as she suggested and focused on Scott.
The park came into view. Scott’s metallic gray sports car was parked across from it, in a neighborhood that should have seen it stripped for parts or stolen already—if it had been a neighborhood frequented by humans. Apparently, fairies didn’t have a need for fancy cars.
Darren parked and leapt out. He wanted to tell Miranda to stay in the car, but knew she’d refuse. More than that, he would probably need her. He still wasn’t sure how to handle what they were facing.
Packed dirt extended from the sidewalk, quickly giving way to lush grass. Darren was surprised the park was thriving so well within the city. There were no manmade paths leading deeper into the trees, and the spaces between them seemed darker than they should be given the time of day.
Miranda stopped at the tree line. “This park is too big for us to wander around looking for them. Do you think you can track him somehow?”
“Yeah.” He felt ridiculous, but sniffed the air.
Interspersed with the dust and grass, he caught Scott’s scent. Underneath, he detected the cloying sharpness of Morrison’s cologne and Mrs. Ford’s floral perfume.
“Okay, this could be really useful,” he said.
He reached for Miranda’s hand, but she pulled away. He felt it like being punched in the gut. But then she clasped his wrist and gave him a hesitant smile.
“Hands give the strongest visions. Remember?”
“I’d forgotten.” His heart was pounding again. Had she maybe forgiven him? It wasn’t the time to press the matter. They were walking into a dangerous situation.
“Stay close,” he said.
The darkness under the trees didn’t impact his vision in the slightest. It did creep him out, though. Darren looked up at the canopy and could see bright light between the leaves. It was as if the trees themselves were holding the light at bay.
Miranda walked closer, holding onto Darren’s arm with both hands, almost hugging it to herself. She stumbled a few times, and he helped her along. When he glanced at her, her brown eyes were wide and staring around blankly.
“Can you see anything?” Darren asked.
“Not really. I know you won’t let us get lost, though.”
Her faith bolstered him. She still trusted him. At least he hadn’t ruined that.
Voices carried toward them and the darkness faded as they neared a clearing in the trees. A ring of white birches grew at unnaturally equal intervals around the circle of immaculate emerald grass ahead. The light in the clearing was too bright, colors shifting in rainbow patterns that didn’t make any sense.
Forester was facing off with Scott from the look of it, while Mrs. Ford and Morrison stood nearby.
He ran an SUV into Miranda’s car.
Darren felt a growl building in his chest. He was about to step into the clearing, but Miranda dug her fingers into his arm to stop him. She shook her head when he glanced down at her.
“How much longer?” Mrs. Ford said.
“Humans. So impatient.” Forester waved his hand in front of Scott’s eyes, and said, “It’s done. Your son will have no memory of finding us here.”
“Thank you,” she said.
A look of contempt flashed across Forester’s features. He brushed the shoulders of his jacket, as if trying to swat away the words. Miranda’s grip tightened again, her body tensing at Darren’s side.
Forester cast his cruel smile at Mrs. Ford. “As I said, it was completely unnecessary.”
“My son must have no knowledge about you or my involvement in this,” Mrs. Ford said. “I’m doing all of this for him.”
Forester grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? How entertaining.”
“It’s the truth,” she said. “Scott isn’t anywhere near being ready to run the company. He’ll need my guidance even when he is. I have to be here for him.”
Forester chuckled and turned to Morrison. “And what about you? You’ve broken your human laws to help her achieve this goal. What do you get out of it?”
“Fuck off,” Morrison said.
The urge to kill Morrison lessened a tiny bit. Darren might have been amused, if his rage had left any room for other emotions.
“Blake.” Mrs. Ford glared at him briefly.
“I asked for a boon in exchange for erasing your son’s memories,” Forester said. “This is what I want. Answer my question. And understand that I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Morrison let out a sigh. “I get more years with her.”
Mrs. Ford’s expression softened in a way Darren had never seen before. Her lips parted and the lines between her eyebrows lessened. Morrison reached out and took her hand as she smiled at him—the most sincere and unguarded look Darren had ever seen her give.
“So, you want her to look young like you?” Forester said.
“I want her to be healthy and around for a long time,” Morrison said. “I don’t give a damn about the rest.”
“My appearance can’t change too drastically,” she said. “The changes need to be internal. You said you can do that.”
“I said in exchange for the coins I can give you fifty years of strength and health with none being the wiser,” Forester said. “It’s a simple matter to cast a spell and make your appearance match whatever age you’d like. There is one complication, however.”
“What’s that?” Mrs. Ford said.
“Her.”
Darren felt Miranda tremble. Or maybe it was the ground beneath them. It seemed to buck and roll, spilling them into the light of the clearing.
“Darren?” Mrs. Ford’s voice was high and tight, but carried across the space…that wasn’t nearly as far as it had seemed when they stood at the tree line.
He looked over his shoulder and saw the trees a few feet away. The clearing somehow looked bigger from the outside. How was that possible?
At this point, Darren was surprised he could still be…surprised.
“Brother,” Forester said. “How nice of you to come. And I see you’ve brought a treat.”
Darren grabbed onto Miranda and pushed her behind him, away from Forester. “She’s mine.”
Forester rolled his eyes. “Werewolves. So territorial.”
“Werewolf?” Morrison moved to stand in front of Mrs. Ford, his hand hovering over his jacket.
Darren snorted. Morrison may have had more time to adapt to knowing that the world was filled with fairies, but the look of surprise on his face told Darren that the gun under that jacket wasn’t filled with silver.
He imagined charging at Morrison and ramming him in the gut. The look of shock that would surely be on the huge man’s face as Darren easily lifted him into the air would be priceless.
The sound his guts would make when they hit the ground after Darren ripped him open would be even better. He was going to laugh and smile the whole time.
“I see you’re getting into the spirit of things,” Forester said. “But I need to finish my fun before you can have yours.”
“I’m glad you find our business arrangement amusing,” Mrs. Ford said. “But we need to finish this. Things have become complicated enough as it is. You can erase their memories when you’re done.”
“So impatient.” Forester tsked. “Deals take time.”
Mrs. Ford shook her head. “Enough stalling. You said Scott needs to be here because of his involvement earlier. He’s here. We’re where you told us to be. You have the coins. We’ve held up our end of the agreement. It’s time you upheld yours.”
Forester smiled at her again. How could Mrs. Ford not see the threat behind his eyes?
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s time.”