Chapter Six
“I’m going to meet with the Pack Masters of the Southern States.” Barrett studied Damon across his desk. “I’m going to need you to fill in for me while I’m gone.”
Damon frowned. “Me? What about Zane or Ryker?”
Barrett narrowed his eyes at the werewolf. “I’d rather have you. Don’t get me wrong, they are both capable, but not for this assignment.”
Something had shifted since Damon had come into the Pack. He was no longer the loner that Barrett had once seen. He was becoming more entrenched in the Pack, and Barrett wanted to see how much responsibility he could handle.
He held up his hand before Damon could open his mouth. “And don’t start telling everyone that I don’t think Zane is reliable.”
“Wasn’t going to.”
“Zane wouldn’t do it, even if I asked him too. He’s still making sure he doesn’t go rogue again and start shifting in front of humans.” Barrett sighed. “I had the best doctors run test after test on him. They’re all saying the drug that was in his system that made him shift out of control is gone. But he still doesn’t trust himself. And now is not the time to stress him out over it.”
“It’ll just take time. He’ll get his confidence back.” Damon shrugged. “Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t mind all that attention that Skylar is giving him.”
“No doubt.” Barrett grinned. “Not to mention he’s been helping finish up SKYLAR’S HOME. It should be open within a month.”
“Pretty impressive. So she wants to make it open for both human and werewolf girls who are runaways?” Damon scratched his chin. “It’s going to be difficult to keep the humans from finding out about our species. I’m not sure this is a good thing.”
“Skylar insists on being inclusive. She wants to protect endangered girls regardless of species. She said that she’ll be able to keep the girls’ identities secret.” Barrett leaned back in his chair. “I told her to handle it and let me know if there’s anything I should worry about.” Barrett reached under his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a thick file and shoved it across the desk to Damon.
“What’s this?” Damon frowned.
“A little information on what’s going on politically in the great state of Arkansas.” Barrett smirked.
“Shit, man. I thought you just sat here in your office all day drinking cappuccinos and scowling. Didn’t realize you had all this shit to deal with.” Damon sighed.
“You have no idea.” He tapped the folder. “Open that up.”
Damon turned to the first page.
“That’s the drug that Zane was infected with. It’s the same drug that those red rogue wolves gave Ava when they kidnapped her.”
Damon growled.
“We know it’s being made and sold in Louisiana.” Barrett narrowed his eyes.
“So the Pack Master Boudier…”
“That fucker is probably in on it. They are probably paying him enough to keep his head turned the other way. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.”
“Why the hell is he even in power?” Damon shook his head.
“Because once a Pack Master is in power, it’s hard as hell to get him unseated.” Barrett leaned back in his seat. “Virtually impossible, actually.”
“But what about the Council?”
Barrett snorted and shook his head. “The Council may act as the government, but they don’t hold much power. Back in the early days, hundreds of years ago, they played a bigger part in ruling. But as stronger Pack Masters arrived, the Council started handing over more and more power to them. They don’t mind doing that, as long as the state is running smoothly. But once the population starts bitching or crime goes up, civilian Weres start bitching about how the Council needs more power to protect them.”
“So what exactly does the Council do?” Damon shook his head. “I know they take part when we hold Tribunals for crimes committed against our kind. But as far as sending out Guardians and patrolling the state, do they do any of that? Do they offer suggestions?”
“Nope. They are happy to get paid to sit in their mansions and get drunk every night. They get paid as much as the Pack Master, with none of the responsibility.”
“Sounds like things need to change,” Damon groused.
“Yeah.” Barrett looked at him. He couldn’t agree more. “Right now I have another fire I have to put out, and it involves that fucking witch from Yazoo City.”
“Lucien feels real bad about that happening, Barrett.” Damon shook his head.
“He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault. That witch stabbed Catty in order to escape. I had heard stories of the Witch of Yazoo but didn’t know she was that vicious.” She better hope he didn’t cross paths with him, or she’d wished she’d never escaped Mississippi.
“She’s psycho,” Damon said.
“For sure. I have no doubts that we’ll get her.” He always got his target. This situation was no different.
Barrett took a deep breath. “Something has to be done about Boudier. Louisiana is in the shitter. There’s more violent crime involving werewolves and humans, and in the last three months I’ve had an influx of civilian Weres flooding into Arkansas. The state is going to explode if we don’t do something about the Pack Master.”
“Which is why you have constant surveillance on Boudier. Me and Jayden didn’t get any new intel on him but we’ll keep trying.”
“Do that. I’m hoping to gather enough physical evidence before calling a Tribunal of the Southern states.” Barrett stated.
“Shit. That sounds serious.” A shadow crossed Damon’s face.
“It is serious. There’s only been one Tribunal that I even know about involving a Pack Master,” Barrett said.
“Oh, yeah? How’d it turn out?”
Barrett held Damon’s gaze. “They ended up sentencing him to death.”
* * *
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ella gripped the steering wheel and pressed her foot against the gas.
“You need to slow down.” Nyx said and dug her cat claws into the leather of the passenger’s seat.
“Where the hell were you when the shit hit the fan inside the bar?” Ella took her eyes off the road long enough to glare at her familiar.
“I don’t visit establishments like that. It’s dirty and stinky and full of stupid humans.” Nyx glared back. “Why are you on this road anyway? I told you to take a left ten miles back.”
“I know where I’m going.” No way in hell would she tell Nyx she was lost as a goose. The cat would never let her live it down.
“Where’s that envelope at?” Ella looked at the seat and then glanced at the floorboard.
“Keep your eyes on the road.” Nyx hissed. “You’re gonna kill us both.”
“Well that’s kind of hard to do since I’m immortal and you have nine lives.” Ella shot back. She took one hand off the steering wheel and felt around under Nyx.
“What are you doing?” Nyx swatted with her paw.
“Where’s that envelope? Your smelly ass better not be sitting on it.” Ella glared.
“My ass is not smelly. It’s quite fresh. Besides, what’s so important about some stupid paperwork?” Nyx lifted her chin in the air.
“That paperwork is my ticket to freedom.” Ella’s heart pounded in her chest. This day was going to shit, fast. She hadn’t expected she was going to have to kill a werewolf. She may spill blood to keep out of her paranormal prison, but she never killed any of her victims.
“Slow your ass down. You’re going way too fast.” Nyx dug her claws deeper into the rich leather seats and hissed.
“Have I ever told you how big a pain in my ass you are?” Ella took her eyes off the road for a second to scowl at Nyx.
She glanced back at the road. The car was on the wrong side of the road and the bright lights from an oncoming vehicle blinded her. She screamed and turned the wheel hard. The car overcorrected and left the road and landed with a sickening thud in a deep ditch.
* * *
“I don’t understand why we haven’t found the car yet,” Ginny yelled in Jaxon’s ear. According to her phone, they should be pulling up behind it any second. She looked over Jaxon’s shoulder at the road ahead.
There were no taillights in front of them. The road was completely dark.
“I’m stopping,” he answered.
“No, you can’t…” She tugged on his shirt, but he was already slowing down.
He pulled off the isolated road and onto a gravel driveway before he killed the engine. She reluctantly climbed off, and he followed.
“Why did you stop?” She glanced around in the dark and then let her gaze rest on him.
“Let me see your phone.” He held out his hand.
“Fine.” She shoved it into his palm and crossed her arms. The cool night air brushed across her skin like a caress, and the only sound in the darkness was the hoot of a far-off owl.
He narrowed his eyes on the phone and then looked back at her. “Hmph. Just what I thought.”
“What?” She took her phone and looked at it again.
“According to the tracer, the car should be about twenty feet from here.”
“But I don’t see any taillights. Maybe it’s not working.” She gnawed on her lips. If John couldn’t track her, then he’d send out his men to find her. Finding her with Jaxon would mean an automatic death sentence for him. She couldn’t let that happen.
“Not necessarily.” He went to the saddlebag and pulled out a flashlight. He walked down the road shining the light off to either side.
She followed.
“There,” Jaxon said after walking less than twenty feet down the road. He aimed his flashlight along the steep drop off the right shoulder. Something metallic reflected the light.
It was the trunk of her car. She recognized the license plate.
“Oh, God.” She ran past him to the vehicle.
“Wait, where are you going?” He reached out and grabbed her waist, preventing her from going any farther.
“My car.” The words rushed past her lips as she continued to stare at the car.
“You can’t get in it. It needs to be pulled out by a wrecker.” His voice, low and deep, was way too close to her ear.
“Stay here and let me see if that witch is in there.” He released his hold and stepped around her. She watched as he made his way down the embankment toward her wrecked Mercedes.
She glanced back at the road. Still no headlights or taillights. They were in the middle of nowhere. Why had the witch stayed on the smaller roads? It would have been quicker if she’d gotten onto the highway versus taking back roads where there was nothing.
It didn’t make sense.
“She’s not there.” Jaxon’s voice drifted to her through the darkness. He walked back toward her, stopping a few feet away.
“Is the car damaged? Did she hit something? Is that why she ran off the road?” Despite the heat of the night, goosebumps popped up along her arms, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to soothe herself.
“Doesn’t look like she hit anything. I’m guessing she figured out you had a tracking device on the car and ran it off the road to throw us off her trail.” He glanced back at the car. “And the way the car is sitting, you need a tow truck to pull it out.”
“So call a tow truck.” She glared.
“Why don’t you call a tow truck?” he shot back.
“Because I don’t know where the hell I am,” she screamed. “And I don’t have roadside assistance.”
Surprise touched his handsome features, and his glare intensified. “You don’t know where you are?” He pointed to a mailbox by a gravel road. The box was partially hidden by overgrown grass and weeds. “You don’t recognize the mailbox? Or maybe you know exactly where you are and just don’t give a shit.” He turned and headed back to the Harley.
“What are you talking about?” she murmured as her gaze landed on the mailbox. Something familiar tugged her gut. Compelled by some unknown force, she walked over to the rusted box.
She held up her phone and shone the light on the metal. With careful fingers, she brushed back the weeds.
Cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach, and her heart thumped hard.
How had she not known? How could she have forgotten?
Madeline Wilson.
She dropped her hand, and the weeds once again hid the mailbox from sight. She looked up the gravel driveway. She couldn’t see anything—it was too dark. But she didn’t need to see. She already knew where she was.
Fresh chills broke out across her arms as she walked up the gravel driveway. The gravel crunched under her boots as she carefully made her way up the hill. She could remember a time when she’d loved running down this driveway to get the mail. She remembered laughing and racing to see what had been delivered by the mailman. Not tonight. Tonight her path was unfamiliar and unsure. She didn’t really want to see what awaited her at the end of the drive.
But the ghosts of her past called to her, demanded that she keep going.
“Ginny. What are you doing?” Jaxon called after her.
She barely heard Jaxon’s voice over the buzzing noise between her ears. She swallowed, but her mouth had turned to ash.
She turned on the flashlight app on her cell phone and held it out in front of her. The light illuminated the desolate white house.
The small white house with the front porch stood against the overgrown yard and vines trying to creep through the windows.
She didn’t want to go any farther, but her body didn’t know that. She took a step as chills marched up and down her spine and nausea curdled in her stomach.
Her foot touched the first creaky step and then the next step until she was standing on the front porch.
“Ginny.” Jaxon’s voice was low and determined.
Ignoring him and feeling the pull of her past, she touched the knob of the front door. A mass of stringy cobwebs brushed her palm as she twisted the doorknob.
The door creaked as it swung open, revealing the pitch-black hallway. She held up her phone, letting the light shine into the interior of the house. Unable to stop herself, she stepped inside.
The house had long been abandoned. Dirt and dust clung to the old wallpapered walls, and trash littered the floor. Old pictures, their glass cracked, hung at an odd angle.
“What are you doing?” Jaxon called out.
She walked farther toward the kitchen. She stepped into the room and her foot hit an old mason jar, sending it rolling across the heart-of-pine floors. She slid her light over the old, yellowed countertops. Sadness engulfed her, and a hundred memories of her standing on a chair and rolling out cookie dough with her grandmother washed over her in an instant. Laughter had been an ingredient in this kitchen. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been happy here.
She turned toward the back door and pushed open the screen door.
Terror and horror filled her chest as she stepped outside.
She remembered one time when this house was devoid of happiness. The one time when she hadn’t felt safe.
Grief, hard and sharp, cut into her chest as that one memory crashed into her as she stepped back inside the house.
That was the day her father showed up and killed her grandmother.