21
Abandon the bones
T onight's shift at the bar is short, and as usual, I'm grateful for the spectacular schedule of Coyote Bills. Tonight's crowd had been rowdy, almost as if they felt the pull of the moon, too. Angel and I clear tabletops and collect bottles while Ivy wipes down the bar. Sam had taken off a few hours ago. The three of us easily clean Coyote Bills, ready for our next few days off. I'm on edge, but thankfully, no one has said anything to make me snap yet.
Angel chatters at me about her plans while we clock out, taking the cash drawers to the safe for the night. I grit my teeth, her voice making me even more annoyed. She's going to a pottery class with a couple of girlfriends. The outing has been planned for weeks, so she gushes before grilling me about my plans.
I know it's not her fault, that it's just my shitty mood and Hunters that is making me feel this way, but I seriously wish I could just tell her to shut the fuck up .
"I don't know. The boys and I will probably be hanging with Jay's family," I shrug. It's an easy answer that avoids telling her the intricacies of the Pack.
"Are the four of you a unit or something?" Angel giggles, but I see how her face crinkles and her eyes roll.
"Not really. The boys, yes. I'm just an interloper," I joke, trying to ease the tension I feel in the air now.
"So you go where they go?" Angel bites, crossing her arms. My wolf cracks one golden eye open, peering at her from the depths of my soul.
"Um, no. I choose to hang with Jay on my days off, you know, because he's my boyfriend , and Saint and Dante happen to be there too since they also happen to live there." That's… not exactly the entire truth, but she doesn't need to know that.
"Right, you live with them all. Are you fucking all of them too?" Angel blurts, disgust written across her face.
I choke on laughter, practically doubling over with mirth, before I smirk and answer, "All of them? No."
Angel's face turns red, and she says, " You BITCH!"
"Alright! That's enough, Angel. What Artemis does on her time off and in her love life is none of your business," Ivy interjects, stepping between us.
Angel still looks disgusted and pissed off, but she just asks Ivy, "Am I good to go?"
"Yes. Enjoy your days off," Ivy answers, giving her a placating smile. Angel leaves with another look of disgust thrown my way over her shoulder.
When the door to Coyote Bills slams shut behind her, Ivy waits all of a few seconds before asking, "So, by not all of them, y ou meant not Dante, but yes, you are fucking Jay and certain Mr Delacroix, aren't you?" The watery humor in Ivy's voice makes me burst with laughter.
I clear my throat, then answer, "Yes. Mr Delacroix and Mr Temple seem to work very nicely in tandem."
"Good for you, girl," Ivy laughs, then says, "You know that's what all that was about, right. She likes Saint."
"Yes, I know. I don't know what's happening between us three, but that doesn't mean it's any of Angel's business."
"You're right, it's not. But let's not antagonize the poor girl, okay?"
" Yeah, yeah. I wasn't trying to . She just wouldn't let it go."
"I know, I heard. I will talk to Angel about calling you a bitch, though. That's not cool."
"Eh, I'm not worried about it. Angel can call me a bitch if it makes her feel better," I shrug. I genuinely am not bothered by her…. anymore .
"Are you sure?" Ivy asks, handing me my jacket.
"Yeah. Good night, Ivy. My car will be here for a bit; I need to run off some of this energy." I tell her, backing towards the door.
"Be safe, don't wander too far. Text me when you're back to your car," She implores, flipping down light switches on her way to the other side exit where the stairs to her apartment are.
" Yeah, yeah ." I repeat, and she just barely sneaks a "Good night, Artemis," in before I close the door behind me, locking up with my set of keys.
Walking to the Stingray, I text Sam to tell her I'm sneaking in a solo run. I'm stupid, but not foolish enough to ghost everyone with Hunters in the area.
If I don't run, though, I'm going to say or do some dumb shit…well, dumber shit. I can feel it.
The boys and I have done a few jaunts around town and through the edges of the forest, but it's not enough. I can't explain why this itch under my skin persists.
Ivy's sleek black Impala sits in its space beside my car. Lights above the bar illuminate her frosted windows, so I know she's made it to her loft.
Without another thought, I strip and leave my things in the Stingray.
The shift overtakes me alarmingly fast, my wolf rushing forward as the two halves of my soul collide. Bones cracking, rearranging, and reassembling all in a heartbeat. My wolven teeth in my jaw, fur rippling over my skin. Tail erupting from my spine.
And then it's freedom. Blessed freedom within the tall pines.
With my nose to the forest floor, my wolf and I explore the region around Coyote Bills, quickly locating the running trails around Sommerville. We stay hidden in the shadowy parts of the wood, easily slinking across the forest floor.
A sleeping forest is a quiet one.
Seeing a rabbit in the open triggers the beast in my blood. A quick chase is all it takes to take the small animal down. Within moments, we feast upon the carcass, my wolf's teeth snapping the small bones quickly. Hot blood stains the white snowy forest.
When we abandon the bones, snow begins falling from the sky, dusting my fur. Big fluffy snowflakes flutter to the ground, turning the macabre scene at my paws into something beautiful.
And, like a sign from nature, my wolf and I agree. It's time to go home.
There is nothing more for us here, in this sleepy little wood.
Again, following the running trails from a distance, we return to the bar.
When everything goes silent, hushed in a way that says danger lurks here , I feel it. A disturbance, almost like a blanket of tension overlapping the forest. Hair at the nape of my neck stands on end, my belly brushing the top layer of snow as I creep along the forest. And then I hear voices.
Three, all male.
I choose to hide almost instinctively, hunkering down in a hollowed-out tree stump, not keen on the idea of being seen.
When the trio of men goes around the bend in the trail, bringing them closer to me and upwind, I nearly bolt, rationality fizzling out.
Ethan and his brothers John and Phil are running the trails.
Instead of bolting, I stay still as a statue in the hollowed-out tree trunk until their scent dissipates into the wind. Only then, when I'm sure that they are far , far away, I sprint all the way back to the Stingray, my heart in my throat.
When I get there, my lungs feel like they are lined with razor blades as I suck in the cool air. The shift overtakes me in seconds, and then I throw the car door open to grab my phone from the cup holder.
My hands shake so much that I nearly can't unlock the stupid thing. When it doesn't recognize my thumbprint for a third time, I slam it against my steering wheel, letting out a frustrated screech.
As I aggressively tap in the passcode on the thankfully uncracked screen, I take a shaky breath. I have to know.
With my stomach in knots, I bring up Ethan's social media, and I don't even have to scroll down his feed to find what I'm looking for.
Right there on the glowing screen, next to a picture of him and a pregnant Cassandra in a cream gown and veil, is irrefutable proof that Ethan's family are Hunters.
Gathered in the dark forest around the Coyote form of Mark's corpse, Stephen stands proudly with his sons, all in black tactical gear. Mark's eyes are glassy, his tongue lolling out of his Coyote mouth, blood glistening on his flank from the gunshot wound.
I barely make it back out of the Stingray before I throw up, emptying the contents of my stomach on the gravel. Bits of rabbit come up, making me regret my late-night snack.
All I can think is that I have to tell Jay. My thoughts race as I pull my clothes back on, staunchly avoiding looking at the pile of vomit on the gravel.
By the time I'm back at the Cabin piling out of the Stingray, Jay is already at the garage door. I presume it's because of how I pulled up, blaring my horn.
With hands that tremble so hard that I don't know how I even managed to drive home, I pull up the picture of Mark from Ethan's social media again and shove my phone into Jay's hands.
And then I sprint away and into the house, throwing up again in the sink.
When I look up after rinsing my mouth, the look on Jay's face makes my gut churn once more. I can practically see his wolf rising over his shoulders, his aura filling the space.
"How did you find out?" He asks, eyes flashing.
"I saw them. They're here. In Sommerville," I reply, gut still churning, but I do not have anything else in me to retch.