Monty throws on his clothes in haste, and I struggle to keep up as he races back through the orchard to Sasha's house. The Alpha awaits us there, his brows bristling with displeasure. I know I'm not the target of his wrath, but I stay a bit behind Monty, just in case.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Dane demands. "I've been calling you for two hours, now."
"I'm sorry. I didn't have my phone."
"At a time like this?" Dane growls. "You should know better."
Monty's shoulders stiffen, his Wolf's form almost visible beneath his human one, so large and powerful. While the alpha is certainly strong, he's got nothing on Monty for size. If it came to a fight, and if Monty refused to yield, I'm not sure who would win.
Then again, it's hard to imagine my gentle Monty in a fight.
My Monty.
I repeat the words in my head and shiver at the strange feeling that fills me with sudden warmth. It's been visiting my heart often, recently; slipping in between the fear and darkness like a ray of light.
Happiness, I remind myself. It's called happiness.
Now, Monty yields beneath the Alpha's glare; not because the Alpha forces him, but because he chooses to submit.
"What happened? Where is everyone?" he asks.
The Alpha relaxes. "They found a bunch of shit in the woodshed. Empty cans of paint-thinner and varnish, and containers of gasoline. Enough to hold nearly fifty gallons. Plenty to burn a house down hot and fast. They took Sasha in for questioning. Freya and Jake went with her for support."
"But Sasha has an alibi," Monty argues.
Dane shakes his head. "Turns out Jake was only here half the night, and Sasha says she was asleep for all of it. Guess they had a few more drinks than usual. He must've left around four to get to the park station by five. He logged in on the computer there at ten after. According to the sheriff, the house burned sometime between midnight and seven a.m. That leaves plenty of time for Sasha to have gone out after he left. Plus... she's the one who called it in."
"Doesn't that make her less of a suspect?"
"No. Arsonists sometimes report their own fires. Plus, she could've waited; she didn't call it in until after noon."
"But what motive could Sasha possibly have? She doesn't need money."
"Actually..." Dane hesitates and then sighs. "According to Page, that's not true. Sasha's in debt. Apparently her online business isn't doing well."
"That's still a pretty weak reason to murder your mom and dad, isn't it?" Monty asks.
"Yeah. But the cans of gasoline tell a different story."
"You don't believe it, do you?"
"Of course not. I can't. Sasha... There's just no way."
Monty frowns. "So, what now? What can we do?"
The Alpha turns away, looking up at the bright, cloudless morning sky.
"I've asked Julian to read the scene," he says.
Monty looks surprised. "You hadn't already?"
Dane shakes his head. "No. I was afraid."
"Why?"
"Ever since he came back from Faerie—since the twins were born—his abilities have been... different. Stronger. But..."
"But?" Monty prompts.
"Using them takes a heavier toll on him. Eirnín, his great-grandma, or whatever she is, says it's because he's still very young, for a Fae. He hasn't learned to control it, yet. It's like opening a floodgate, when all you want is to turn on a tap. It knocks him out for a day, at least, and it upsets the twins."
"The twins, huh?"
"And me," Dane admits, and turns towards us again, meeting Monty's eyes. "I've been selfish, Monty. He's been willing from the start, but I told him there was nothing for him to read. That was a lie."
Monty is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is gentle. "You did what's natural. Protected your family. Nobody can blame you for that."
"Maybe. But Sasha's family, too. And mom and dad. I've jeopardized everything to spare my Mate a headache."
"It's more than a headache, though, isn't it?"
Dane sighs and looks away again.
"Yeah, it is."
~ ☾ ~
Monty and I accompany the Alpha and his mate to the scene of the burned house, leaving the twins in Martin's care.
Julian says little as we drive over in Monty's car, anger smoldering like amethyst fire in his glare, but Monty assures me in a whisper that he's not mad at us.
"He and Dane have fought about this before," he tells me. "Being a hard-headed ass is kinda Dane's thing, and not being concerned enough for his own safety is Julian's. The two clash, now and then."
When we arrive at the ruins, though, Julian puts his anger side and grows focused and calm.
I show him where I'd picked up the strongest echoes in the area where Dane tells me the front door would have been. He sits on grass beyond the burned area, preparing himself to 'read,' while Dane sets an array of items on the hood of Monty's car: a blanket, a pair of dark glasses, bottled water, painkillers, and an icepack.
I watch with growing curiosity, wondering what exactly will happen. The shadow-like impressions I receive might be frightening, but they don't hurt me. Julian, though, appears to be bracing himself for an ordeal.
"He's clairsentient," Dane explains, noting my observations. "When he picks up on the traces of an event, he experiences it completely—sight, sound, taste, touch, smell. The emotions are the worst for him. Whatever the person felt, he feels it, too. Like it's happening to him."
"Oh."
I'm glad I'm certain no one died here, in that case.
"It used to be only the really traumatic stuff that got to him—violence, pain, death. Now..." Dane shakes his head as Julian rises and comes towards us.
He's always beautiful—graceful, with the supple strength of a slender-limbed stag—but whatever he did to prepare himself to use his abilities has heightened his beauty further still. It's as if a thin veil had covered him, and now it has fallen aside, revealing his true nature beneath.
His face is almost too perfect, the way someone might sculpt the face of an angel or the fairest among the gods, and his violet-hued eyes glow with a soft, inner light. Watching him, I understand his mate's fear, a little: he looks as if he doesn't belong in this world.
"I'm ready," he says.
Dane swallows, a half-tortured twist to his lips, but nods. "Take your time."
Turning towards the burned ruin, Julian walks away among the ashes with slow, measured steps, scanning the ground.
Occasionally, he pauses with his head tilted to one side, as if listening. Sometimes he crouches to touch things among the ash, and sometimes he just stands with his eyes closed, breathing slow and deep.
"The fire purified most of the energy here," Dane murmurs, watching him. "I didn't lie about that. A normal psychic wouldn't be able to read much."
"Is there such a thing as a 'normal psychic?'" Monty wonders aloud.
Dane casts him a glance before turning his attention back to Julian.
Near the place I'd pointed out, he stops, staring at the ground, and calls softly for Dane. He goes, and we follow.
"What is it?" Dane asks.
"I don't know. Something there, in the ash—like a spark, or a distant star. Just be ready."
Dane nods, and Julian takes another bracing breath. Bending, he reaches into the powdery gray remains of the house, his fingers sinking to the second joint.
He lifts something and blows the ash from his palm. It's a small sphere on a chain, maybe a crystal of some sort, though now blackened beyond recognition by the fire.
At least to me; Monty recognizes it well enough.
"That's Mom's necklace!" he exclaims, and takes a step forward, but the alpha catches his arm and holds him back.
"Makes sense," Dane mutters. "It's Fae-forged. The Summer Queen gave it to her as a wedding gift. Of course it could withstand earthly fire."
Julian continues to stare at it as if gazing into the depths of a bottomless well; then he inhales sharply and arches his back, his body rigid and his eyes wide. Clapping a hand to the side of his neck, he falls with a soft cry of surprise, and Dane catches him before he lands in the ash, easing him down in his arms.
Julian's chest rises and falls with rapid, shallow breaths; his expression is one of shock and pain, and his wide eyes stare at something only he can see.
"You... why?" he gasps, one hand outstretched. "Please... No... Sasha..."
He goes limp, and Dane lifts him and carries him towards the car, his face a mask of grim unhappiness. Monty and I follow at his back.
"Sasha?" Monty asks. "Is that what he said?"
Dane nods. "That's what he said."
At the car, Monty lays the blanket on the dry grass, and Dane sinks to his knees on it with his mate in his arms. He murmurs a string of soft words under his breath, rocking from side to side as he strokes Julian's pale face.
"Come on, baby. Wake up for me, now. You did good. You did good, Julian. Now come on back to me. Wake up."
Monty and I watch with bated breath until, finally, Julian stirs and moans, and opens his eyes. He looks much more like his usual self now—still beautiful, but more earthly, somehow.
"Fuck me," he rasps, rubbing his eyes.
"Not right now, sweetheart," Dane answers wryly.
Julian glares, though it lacks the fire it had before. "Shut up and gimme my sunglasses, asshole," he groans, covering his eyes again.
"I love you, too," Dane says. He's still unhappy, but obviously relieved.
Monty hands him the dark glasses and the bottle of water. He puts the glasses on Julian and holds the water to his lips; despite the feisty words, it's clear his mate has no strength, and he struggles to stay awake.
"Was it her?" Dane asks quietly, after he's completed these ministrations. "Was it Sasha?"
Julian shakes his head slightly and reaches to catch hold of Dane's shirt.
"No," he whispers. "Shot... with poison. He..."
"Who?" Dane shakes him gently. "Julian, who poisoned them?"
"Couldn't see... the light," Julian breathes, "but... the hat. I recognized... the hat."
He goes limp, slipping into unconsciousness again.
Dane stills, staring down at this mate's pale face.
"Fuck." He looks up at us. "Monty, it was Jake. It had to be. If he drugged Sasha, he could've come out here, done this, then got back to her place before she woke up and he had to leave for work. But if he didn't kill them..."
"The tape," Monty says.
"What?"
"Besides the thinners and varnish, Sasha was missing a role of heavy-duty tape. Jake coulda had mom and dad tied up in his truck the whole time."
"Fuck. His house, Monty—we gotta search his house."
Dane struggles to his feet with Julian in his arms, then sinks back to his knees. He looks up and meets Monty's eyes.
"Go. I gotta stay with him. But I told Jake he was gonna read the scene. If mom and dad are still alive, and if he knows the game's up, you don't have much time."
"Dane..."
"Monty, please. Go."
The Alpha puts no authority in his words, though, and Monty stands for a moment, at a loss. Then, seeming to understand some unspoken thing, he nods and runs for his car.
I follow, my heart beating hard and fast as the heart of a wild fox in my chest.
In the way the Alpha looked at Julian, and the way his mate looked back at him, I'd seen my own truth reflected there.
Monty is my heart now, and I will not leave him except my life leaves me.