Dane paces Sasha's living room like a commander pacing the deck of his ship. We'd returned and delivered our news to the others, and the double shock of Martin's betrayal landed a heavy blow.
My mom sits on the sofa with Noah and Sasha seated on either side, while Freya, Darius, and Ambrose choose to stand. I sit in a chair, my heart beating hard and fast against the walls of my chest and my stomach in a knot of nerves.
"Give me options," Dane says, glowering from beneath his brows. "Noah?"
Noah clears his throat. "The highest place on our land... That's Hrolf's Ridge, isn't it?"
"Yes," our mom confirms. "That's the tradition for a Great Hunt: to descend on the Prey from above. You can see the whole valley plain from up there."
"It's also tradition not to Shift before the Hunt begins," Noah says, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. "So they'll come by the road."
"It's still passable?" I ask. I remember the old dirt track that wound its way to the top, where a fire-watch tower once stood, but even when I was a kid it was pitted and overgrown in places.
"Passable enough, in a sturdy vehicle," Mom answers.
"An ambush?" Freya suggests. "We could dig a trench, or fall a tree, then pounce when they stop."
"Too risky," Dane says. "Too many variables. The hostages could be compromised."
Our mom frowns at him, but I understand. Calling his mate and children 'the hostages' is his way of distancing himself from the situation just enough to deal with it in a rational and detached way. Something I'm having more trouble with, myself.
I keep imagining wild, hopeful scenarios in which Kit and Julian, Martin and the twins just show up at the door, safe and sound, having miraculously managed to escape on their own. I know this is unlikely, and do my best to contribute something of more use.
"What about Ambrose and Darius?" I ask. "They're not Wolves, so they can't be part of the Hunt, right? They could be our secret weapons."
Dane shakes his head. "I wouldn't count on it. We've got to assume Ferrault knows everything Martin knows. Which is everything. Plus, he might not consider non-Wolves to be 'Pack' material, but we do, and as part of our Pack, they'll be expected to Run with the rest of us. I don't think we can count on taking Ferrault by surprise."
"I agree."
This new voice belongs to my dad, and we all turn to find him standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and leaning one hand against the frame.
My mom frowns at him. "Joe, you should be in bed."
He enters the room and comes to sit in the chair opposite mine. "I'll rest when my family is safe — and yes, that includes my wayward son."
"Dad, if Martin—" Dane begins, but our dad raises a hand, silencing him. He might have passed the Alpha to Dane, but he's still our father, and he still commands respect and authority.
"If my son has betrayed us, he may tell me so to my face. Then I will believe it. Until then, I will have faith in Martin's good heart — as should you. You know your brother."
"I've worked Homicide, Dad," Dane argues, though quietly and without heat. "The people who think they know someone best are always the most surprised."
"As I said — I'll believe it when I see the proof."
Our mom's eyes brighten with tears, even as her lips thin in a line. Our dad could be infuriatingly stubborn, at times, but in this case it was the stubbornness of love.
"I think we only got the one option," he continues. "We gotta meet this monster on his terms. He wants a challenge — wants to prove Wolves are superior. Well, let's give him what he wants, and prove him wrong."
A soft knock sounds at the door, and Freya answers it, revealing Ophelia on the other side. She's alone, and wears a grim, determined expression on her plump, round face.
After an exchange of greetings, she addresses Dane.
"I want to Run with you," she says, "if you'll grant me the privilege."
Dane frowns, and I can guess his thoughts. Ophelia's been training with us, and she's no weakling. On the other hand, she's not the best fighter among us, either, and she's got a baby to think about.
Reading his expression, she goes on, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.
"I know I'm hardly as fit as the rest of you, and I know the risks. But please — I've got too many debts to leave unpaid. When Kit helped me escape our uncle, he saved the lives of my baby and my mate. I can't just wait on the sidelines and watch as things play out. Please let me help."
Dane looks to our dad, and an almost tangible understanding passes between them. It's not our place to tell Ophelia what she should or shouldn't do, and we can use all the help we can get.
"You're welcome to run with us, Ophelia," Dane says, "as long as you understand there's a chance that Kitka may grow up without a mother."
Ophelia nods. "If Ferrault wins, Kitka won't grow up at all. I'm with you all the way."
Dane nods in turn. "So be it." He sweeps his gaze over the rest of us. "Tonight, the moon rises an hour after sunset. We'll leave for the ridge at dusk and await Ferrault there. I want everyone well-rested for the Hunt. I know it's hard, with our fears on fire, but we need to be at our best. Eat, sleep; pray, if that's your thing. If you've got even a minor injury that might slow you down, tell Ambrose now, so he can heal it and have time to recover, himself"
"Darius can help, too," Freya volunteered. "His vampire hypno-shit puts you right to sleep."
Darius inclines his head, the hint of a wry smile on his lips. "I am yours to command."
"Good," Dane says. "That's it then. Let's give this all we've got."
~ ☾ ~
Dad and Sasha prepare a simple, late breakfast for everyone — eggs, toast, and fruit salad. Leading by example, Dane sits at the table and serves himself something close to his usual portion. Then he eats, mechanically and most likely without tasting his food, until he clears his plate. His eyes stray once or twice to the empty chair at his side, where Julian and the twins should have sat, but for the most part, he keeps his attention focused on the task at hand.
The rest of us follow suit, and I manage to choke down enough food to sustain my energy, at least.
When we're finished, Dane goes outside and heads for the edge of the woods. Despite his orders, he's not one to ask for help, and rather than submit to vampiric hypnosis or dragon healing, he'll Shift and sleep in Wolf form. I consider doing the same, but decide against it. I have things to think about, and I need my human mind to do so.
While everyone else goes to seek some rest alone or in pairs, I pour myself a cup of coffee, go out to sit on the bench swing on Sasha's porch, and do my best to remember everything I know about Wolf law.
The sun climbs the dome of the saky. Shadows shorten and lengthen again as it passes its zenith, and the air grows warm and still. Time seems to slow with the beat of my heart as I contemplate my choice.
Among wolves, no bond is more sacred than that of Mates. Not even Pack. If worse comes to worst, I could challenge Ferrault for Kit. The problem is, to win I'd have to kill him; and if I lost, he'd kill me and still challenge for the Pack. Either way, I'd have to fight like I've never fought in my life.
I know what Dane would say. He'd tell me it's on him, not me, and to let him bear the load he was born to carry. I just don't know if I can do that, anymore.
Between the heat and the stillness, and the heaviness on my heart, I drift off despite myself, with my head leaning on the cushioned backrest.
A loud jangle of chimes rouses me, and I snort in abrupt and bleary wakefulness, recognizing the sound as the ringtone on my phone. I wrestle it from the front pocket of my jeans and look at the screen.
The number is unfamiliar. Typically, I'd assume it was spam and not answer it, but there is no 'typical' anymore.
I tap the green button.
"Hello?"
A harsh, breathy whisper answers me.
"Monty? It's Julian."
Instantly awake, I bolt to my feet, phone in a death grip.
"Julian!? Are you okay? Where are you? Where's Kit? Is—"
"Shut up and listen. Dane's not answering his phone, and now I've got seconds before I'm caught. Tell Dane, 'Standing stones. There will be time.' Got it?"
"Uh..." My mind races, leaving my faculties of speech far behind.
"Monty!"
"Yeah, yeah — I got it. But, Julian—"
"He'll understand. I gotta go."
The call ends. I stare at my phone, wondering if it really happened. My racing heart and the sweat that drips from my brow, and the painful sharpness of my senses, convinces me it did.
I stumble into a run and go in search of Dane.
~ ☾ ~
"That's all he said?" Dane prompts for the fourth time as we stride back towards the house. He wears his jeans and nothing else, and carries the rest of his clothes in a bundle beneath his arm.
"Yeah, that's all. Maybe if you hadn't broke your own phone on a damn wall, you'd 've talked to him yourself."
Dane grunts, though whether in anger or acknowledgement I don't know.
"Anything else? Any clue where he was calling from?"
"Other than a phone I didn't recognize, no."
Dane slows and then stops. He takes a deep breath with his hands bunched in his hair, releasing it slowly with his eyes closed. When he speaks, his voice is softer and more vulnerable, edged with emotion: the voice of a husband and father, and not an Alpha wolf.
"What I mean is... did he sound okay? Was he hurt? Did he say anything about the twins?"
Regretfully, I shake my head. "It was just a few whispered sentences. I'm sorry."
Dane nods, regaining his composure with a deep sniff. "Right. Where's Mom?"
"Upstairs. What does it mean? Standing stones; there will be time?"
"Let's get everyone together. Then I'll explain."
~ ☾ ~
"The Fae?" Mom's voice carries equal measures of doubt and interest. It's late afternoon, nearing evening — nearing time to go — and despite Dane's orders, no one has touched the plate of sandwiches Noah and Ambrose prepared. We're all too on edge.
"What else could he mean?" Dane retorts. "He wants us to open a doorway. Only..."
"There will be time," I repeat, suddenly struck by something. "Dane — remember when Julian was mad you hadn't told him the twins were alphas, and he threatened to take them to Faerie?"
"I do." His tone tells me I better not fuck around.
"He told me he wouldn't because the timing's wrong," I say, my words tripping over my tongue in a rush. "He said that right now, time is longer on the other side. A day might pass here, while a week, or a month, or even years might go by in Faerie. Sure, you wouldn't have time to miss him, but the kids might come back grown up. He said he'd never do that to you."
Dane's expression goes through a strange shift of comprehension and understanding.
"Shit. He knows Mom and I can open a portal. If one of us goes through, asking for help..."
"We might have time," our mom concludes. "The time differential is unpredictable. As you say, it might be a day here and a day there; it might be a day here and a hundred years, there. Despite the usual rules for the time of year, it might be the opposite. Whoever goes, takes that risk; they might come back unchanged, or they might not come back at all."
Dane stands. "Then it's a risk I'll take."
"No." Our Mom rises as well, and it's as if all the air is sucked from the room. The shadows deepen, the light intensifies, and with a single word, everyone's attention is rooted on her. The silver in her hair shines like moonlit silk, and her eyes gleam like amber coals.
It's easy to forget she's as much an alpha as our dad — if not more so — as she so rarely calls on that power, but when she does, there's no ignoring it.
"No," she says again, more softly. "I will go. The Fae know me better, and you are needed here."
"Mom, I—"
All she does is smile, and he's silenced again.
"My son, you are a powerful alpha, but I am still your mother. Gods permitting, you may pull the same stunt on Luna and Luca, someday. But today, this is my place, and I will hold it, and you will do as I say."
For a moment, Dane bristles, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching visibly beneath his shirt, and his own eyes blazing a deep orange-red. Our mother remains unmoved, and flicks a brow at him, as if to say, 'try me.'
He relaxes.
"Fine. You're right. You know that world far better than any of us — except Julian, maybe."
Our mom relaxes as well.
"Good. The 'doorway' on our land is in the opposite direction of the ridge. If I leave now, I should arrive about the same time you meet Ferrault — moonrise. An auspicious time to slip between worlds. And as Julian says — and if we are lucky — 'there will be time.'"
Our dad speaks up, then, rising to his feet and taking our mom's hands in his.
"You've always had the greater courage, Astrid," he says. "The greater spirit. I love you for it. Just promise me you will come back. Promise me I will see your face again."
She cups his cheeks and smiles through her tears. "As I told you once, long ago, I never make a promise I cannot keep. But I will do my utmost, Joseph, to come back to you as soon as I possibly can."
"I know you will," he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers. "That is why I love you, my lady, as much as the day I first laid eyes on you, and decided I would make you mine."
"You decided." Mom scoffs. "I'll let you keep thinking that, my lovely man."
She kisses him, and the rest of us find something else to focus on.
After a moment, our mom composes herself and speaks again.
"Well, we'd best get going, then."
Rising, she approaches Dane, and sets her hands on his shoulders. She's a tall woman, at five-foot-eleven, but he towers over her nonetheless. It's clear where the greater power of will lies, though, and it has nothing to do with gender or size.
"My son, a challenge lies ahead of you. Our fates rest on your shoulders, but remember this: our strength lies not in one, but in all. Your brothers and sisters; your mate; our allies and our friends: all have unique abilities and gifts. Trust them. Do not underestimate them. But most of all..." She pauses and casts her gaze on me. "Trust your heart."
"I will, Mom." Dane sniffs and draws her into an embrace, and once again most of us look away.
They break apart. And then, as the sun sets, we prepare to go our separate ways.
Dane, Freya, Darius, Noah, Ambrose, Sasha, Dad, Ophelia, and I set out for Hrolf's Ridge, while our mom — a small leather satchel packed with whatever she needs to open a doorway to another world — heads out alone, in the opposite direction.