Chapter Nineteen

Luke

 

Dreams and nightmares twisted through me.

Reagan sitting on my bed and smiling at me with such profound relief it made my chest ache.

Fire in the sky. A giant form writhing through bruised clouds, lit by flashes of lightning.

The cold, rainy streets of a Seattle spring holding onto winter.

The last image held. Each drop sliced my bare skin as I was forced to my knees so hard my bones rattled. My jeans grew heavy as they were soaked through. Pain wracked my limbs.

The deadliest blow wasn't the zip ties around my wrists or the toll shifting had taken. It was the contemptuous smirk of the woman standing over me. Smoking a cigarette and looking every inch the femme fatale.

Blonde, dark-eyed, and rancid to her core.

This isn’t right, I thought with an edge of panic. I escaped.

I escaped—I got back to Winfyre.

Tristan came. He knew not to trust you…

Hauled to my feet, I was dragged toward the van. The Stasis Bureau logo leaped out at me, and I began to fight, but my body was weak, and I couldn’t get free. Drugged?

Laughter curled by my ear on a plume of smoke.

“Sorry, baby, the money was too good.”

“Go to hell,” I spat.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

"No," I said as they dragged me closer. I could smell metal, death, and formaldehyde. "No.”

 

“No.”

The word roared from my lips as I flung myself upright.

Fists clenched and chest heaving, I looked around. I wasn’t in Seattle, drenched in the rain, being dragged to a Stasis Bureau van. I was home.

“Ah, fff…” I sucked in air, hard, as pain ripped up my side.

The familiar surroundings reoriented and soothed me, as did the lingering scent in the air. Reagan. Rogda. The dogs. Winfyre. Even as I doubled over, nausea hitting me, I could already feel myself calming down.

“Lukas?” Rogda marched through the room and flicked on a light. I had no idea what time or day it was. “What is it?”

“Bad dream,” I grunted.

“That tramp?”

I let out a raspy chuckle and nodded.

“What’s going on?”

Reagan was there, her hair unruly and dressed in loose-fitting pajamas. The light seemed to leap to meet her, bringing out the green in her eyes and her dark scatter of freckles. Her face was flushed, and I wondered if she’d run up here. My lips twitched, then I noticed Rogda looking at me. She raised an eyebrow, and I schooled my face.

“Are you okay?” Reagan asked.

“It’s, um…” I sat back and studied the ceiling. How did I explain this? “Ghosts.”

“Not the undead,” Rogda said dryly, and my lips twitched. “But the past.”

“What can I do?”

Warmth rolled over my bones at Reagan’s question. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn’t be tempted to salivate over her like a dog.

Stay, dog.

Sarrow’s voice snarled through my memories and dreams.

I sat up, eyes flying open. “She told him.”

“Who?” Reagan asked, her voice pitching slightly.

“A person who would make the devil himself beg for mercy,” I muttered. “Rogda, I have to talk to Xander—”

“You need to eat something and rest,” Rogda said. “It can wait for tomorrow, nephew.”

“What time is it?” I asked. “What day is it?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Reagan asked and moved closer.

“Who answers a question with a question?”

“Um, you?”

“Why don’t you—”

“Last night, you and Reagan were attacked,” Rogda said. “It’s the next day, about eight-thirty or so at night.” I gaped at her. “We were cleaning up and about to go to bed.”

“I slept the whole day?” I asked, and they nodded. Sitting up a little more, I tried to roll my shoulders and winced. Then I glanced down. I no longer had on a shirt. I also stank of rain, blood, and seawater. Wooziness was stuffed between my brain and my skull. “Have I had a shower yet?”

“No, sorry. You’re as clean as we could get you,” Reagan said.

I nodded and let out a small laugh, trying not to think too hard about that one. “I see.”

“Luke, come on. You were out of it this morning,” Reagan said. “How do you feel now?”

"This morning?" A blur of images went through my aching head. "Uh, damn. Okay, the last thing I remember is the knife and Sarrow. No, wait." I stared at Reagan, who fidgeted and gave me a fearful look. "I'm not sure, honestly. It’s a bit fuzzy.”

It was fuzzy, but I remembered everything up until the shifters had shown up. Right now, I didn’t know what to do with the fact that Reagan had lied about being a stasis. Nor did I want to show my hand. Luckily, my stomach growled and saved me.

Rogda plucked at Reagan’s elbow. “Let’s get him dinner.”

“While you do that, I’m going to take a shower,” I said and swung out of bed.

Only then did I think to look down and check to see what I was or wasn’t wearing. My black boxers had made it. Phew. Stiff and sore, I rose to my feet, and Reagan inhaled sharply. I glanced over at her with a reassuring smile. She shook her head and looked away, pursing her lips.

I waited.

Sure enough, Reagan’s eyes drifted back to me, and she flushed again when I smirked.

“Is this a good idea?” she asked Rogda, playing with her hair.

“It’s fine,” I said.

It was the weakest I’d felt in a long time, but shifter abilities still buoyed my natural strength tenfold. Pain jabbed at my side, but the wound was already healing. Within a week, I’d be back to myself. Health and stamina-wise, being a shifter was incredible.

“I thought you said a full week,” Reagan said as I came around the bed. Her hands were hovering up and down, as though she was actively restraining herself from helping.

“A week till he’s back to full strength, yes,” Rogda said. “But he’s a shifter, and since the poison is gone, he’s weak, but there’s no need to keep him bedridden.”

“Poison?” I asked, and my hand went to my side.

I remembered the knife Sarrow had thrown at me. The dull black metal and the serrated edges, the burn of poison creeping through my veins. It wasn’t the first time I’d experienced it, but this was the first time I’d been back on my feet less than twenty-four hours later. The other time, the poison had been a smaller and weaker dose, no match for my healing abilities. It had still laid me out for almost three days, though.

“Shit, that’s right. How am I…” My eyes went to Reagan, then Rogda. “Right, superb healers.”

Rogda was also looking at Reagan, but she said to me, “You be careful in that shower, though. Your blood pressure is still affected by warm water.” She looked at me, a warning in her eyes, and I wondered how much Rogda knew or had guessed about Reagan. “We’ll be quick.”

“No rush,” I said amicably, striding ahead of them and holding the door. Reagan’s face was pinched, and Rogda’s lips were a flat line. “And thanks.”

“Of course,” Reagan murmured, hurrying by.

Rogda gave me a look and then followed her downstairs.

Once in the bathroom, I took inventory of myself in the mirror. I was pale, with hollows under my eyes, and a purpling bruise to match across my ribs from the stitches. That was Niles’s handiwork: the man was a natural surgeon.

Still, it was annoying, especially since I had a bad habit of reopening them.

Under the hot water in the shower, I wondered how I could avoid telling Reagan anything further about my past, never mind what I was going to tell Xander. Seeing Sarrow had definitely jolted loose memories I had no interest in revisiting. Or people.

Like my traitorous ex, Shauna Lind.

If she was working for the Skrors now…or, worse, had formed an alliance between the Stasis Bureau and those fiends, then Winfyre needed to shore up our defenses.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my forehead against the cool tile. My mind trickled back to when the Rift had torn the world apart, remaking it in one split second. Looking back later, it would seem inevitable.

There’d been strange signs. Weather, animals acting up, and meteor showers.

The night before the Rift, the guys and I had been drinking beers on the beach, watching the aurora borealis light up the entire sky. Later, we’d find out it had been seen all across the world, and, if it had been daytime, there’d been zips of color and light.

Everyone had scrambled to find an answer, but I believed the answer had come to us.

Till I drew my last breath, I would never forget the explosion of energy rushing through the ground and into me. Like a nuclear reaction had taken place inside of my cells. A crack of lightning discharging from a collision of energy. A snowy mountainside collapsing into an avalanche. A star snapped from the sky. Followed by a burst of light tinted blue and green.

When I came to, I was a wolf.

The world plunged into chaos, with shifters struggling to understand their new abilities, as institutions of power collapsed. Not only governments, but also energy itself. It was like the earth had rejected the onslaught of technology, a body expelling a virus. Within weeks, it had almost been leached away. Wind farms still worked, as did solar panels, but most power grids simply failed.

Tristan had a lot of theories about it, something he worked on diligently when he had free time. He believed that whatever energy had been released was interfering with those mechanisms.

All that aside, within a few weeks, we’d had a handle on our abilities and sketched out the rough territory of Winfyre. At first, we thought it was because Xander’s family owned a good swath of property here, but it went deeper than that. It was like our souls had been stitched into this land. Even now, if I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could sense the borders of our territory.

Beyond keeping Winfyre and our people safe, we were, of course, worried about our families. With each day, more and more communication structures failed.

I was obsessed with getting back to my father. He’d moved west after my mom died, deciding he wanted to live out his years in Coos Bay, Oregon, as several of his Navy buddies lived there. Lind had been living back in Seattle, the same city where we’d met. Temporarily, of course. She never stayed in one place for very long. Looking back, I wondered why I’d thought she would stay with me. Or why I’d bothered to think of her well-being when she never thought of mine.

But it had seemed providential at the time. Kal and Xander stayed behind, while Rett, Tristan, and I headed for Washington. We’d gotten there in less than a week as shifters.

Luck had been on our side. Shifters were being rounded up in secret, and bounties were covert. A few months later, that all changed, and there was no way we would have gotten through. But a year ago, the Stasis Bureau hadn’t quite shown its true colors yet.

In Washington, Tristan, Rett, and I had split up, against their wishes. They didn’t think I should try to get in contact with Lind, but I’d felt the tug of old bonds.

She had no family, living instead for her job. Top military science brass with secret assignments and huge payouts. Tristan was convinced that if she wasn’t a shifter, she’d probably turn me in. If she was, she’d probably already be gone. I’d ignored his warnings and gone after her, giving in to nostalgia.

It was hard to forget the girl I had thought I’d spend my life with. When I saw her, held her again, I’d been so exhausted and relieved, I’d let my guard down. Told her too much.

Later, I was grateful I didn't tell her more, especially about Winfyre, but what I’d given her was enough. Enough to betray me and rip apart the shreds of my life to such an extent that it was a wonder I’d survived. Now, I was threatening to undermine that survival. To undo those sutures.

My eyes opened. I couldn’t do that again.

Even if I had claimed Reagan Grace, Winfyre had claimed me first.