It felt like hours before they finally came to rest. They'd passed by their campsite, and instead walked miles further—deeper into the real wolves' territory.
Tisperwas concerned it'd lead to another attack, but Quentin shook his head on the matter. "They're not Ziya's wolves. They'll see our wounded," he'd said. "They'll know. They'll protect us."
Regardless, Tisper didn't see a wolf for the duration of the night. They set up camp by a stream, and the others found them in time. First, the ones that had escaped with Jaylin. Then Imani, Bailey, and Leo. Elizaveta and Izzy tailed in last, chauffeuring along a winded Matt, who nursed his wounded shoulder for the entire night.
"It's broken," he'd told her. "I knew that Die Hard shit was a bad idea." But as was the gracious Matthew, he refused to admit that it was his idea to jump from a moving truck to begin with.
The others chose to stay in form, huddled into a pile of fur to fend from the cold. The ones that had escaped with Jaylin remained human, too tired to turn, but still they slept in the lump with the wolves, funneling the heat from their winter coats. Even Matt had taken to the warmth—head rested on Izzy's side and Elizaveta tucked in one arm, his fingers still lost in the fur of her neck after hours of mindlessly stroking her coat until he'd fallen asleep.
Again, it was Tisper and Quentin awake at the fire, both of them too afraid to sleep for fear of leaving Jaylin unmonitored. They'd seen the bullets in his arms and the one embedded in his stomach, but they were shallow—so shallow you could see the metal glinting in the light of the fire.
According to Imani, they were far from striking a vital. He'd be okay for the night. He'd have to be—they didn't have the opportunity to retrieve their first aid kit. There was no way to remove the bullets and nothing to sanitize them with. There was just the fire to keep him warm. The meat of some fish from the creek that he was too tired to eat. And the moon, forever an hourglass above their heads.
"It's not silver," Quentin broke the silence. His own thoughts spilled out before Tisper's did and for that she was thankful.
"That's good right?"
"It's good. If they were silver bullets, he'd be in too much pain to sleep."
"A lot of people got hurt tonight, didn't they?"
"Yes," Quentin said. "A lot of humans. And I'll have to answer to that."
Tisper sighed and plucked the meat from the bone of her fish. "What will you do after this?"
"I'll take him to our lake cabin. We used it for Anna when she was turning. There are precautions in order there. It's more secure. No one will be able to find him."
"That's not what I mean though," she said, grimacing with the next bite. Her hands still stunk of blood, no matter how many times she washed them in the stream. "What will you do about him? Will you tell him how you feel?"
Quentin stared into the flames, worked his jaw left to right. "He's going to school after this. I'm sending him to Seattle. He'll live a normal life."
"Normal," Tisper snorted. "He's turning into an actual monster tomorrow night, Quentin."
"And we'll be around to take care of him when he does. I'll talk to Devi about formulating some kind of...suppression medicine. Maybe we can keep him from turning with the right amount of mistletoe."
"And what if someone else comes after him?"
"Ziya wanted him because this is his first transition. He won't be as useful to her after this. I'm promoting more Sentinels after this is all over and I'll make sure he's surrounded by protection."
"No protection would mean as much as having you there." Tisper frowned. She knew Quentin's answer already by the downcast of his eyes.
"I'll always have to drag him back into this world. I'll always be here, in the heart of it. I'd be keeping him from a real life. A normal,good life." He stared down at the stick in his hands, chipping at the bark with the nail of his thumb before he tossed it into the flames. "Julia doesn't have more than a few months; Felix said he could smell the death on her. Make sure he's with her after this. He's one of mine now, so anything he needs, come to me. I'll make it happen."
"Why are you saying this like you're leaving? Like you're never gonna talk to him again?" Tisper dropped her sights to Jaylin. To the tired, deep-set circles under his eyes. To the black weeding over his face—feeding farther and farther up his jaw. "That would devastate him."
"It's not that serious," Quentin said. "I'm not disappearing; I'll be in touch. But you're right about leaving. I won't be here."
"And why the hell not?"
"Do you want to know a secret?" Quentin flashed her a grin—she couldn't tell if it was the good kind or not. "Lisa would kill me to say it, but the Sigvards are broke. Dirt broke."
"But Mr. Sigvard—"
"Left them with the savings account and their debt. One of those things is nearly gone, and I can tell you it's not the debt." He turned his arms in the light of the fire, the wounds already scabbed over, the fresh skin melding into light scars. "I'm trying to sell off a business of mine—a small record company in LA. I have to go back to California for a few months, but Felix will be here. He's not going to like it when I tell him that, but he'll stay to watch after the four of you and Julia."
"I just wanted him back." She sighed deeply, watching the firelight strobe Jaylin's face in warm colors. He was wrapped in the only blanket they had on hand, Matt's sweater his makeshift pillow. "How bad will it be, tomorrow night?"
Quentin's eyes were somewhere deep within the flames. "We'll be prepared."
"But how bad, Quentin."
"Bad." He said it like it was nothing, but when he turned to Tisper, there was unmistakable fear in his eyes. "Will you come with? To the cabin—when he turns. Will you come?"
Tisper shrugged and warmed her hands between her knees. "I didn't think you'd want me there."
"I think it'll help if he has you." He went distant again, Quentin. Gone to the flames. "He's lucky to have you. Both of you, willing to put your lives on the line. Not often you find friends like that."
It warmed Tisper to hear it, but Jaylin would have done the same for her. Ten times over again.
"Be careful, Quentin Bronx," she teased, "or we all might fall in love with you."
Quentin looked at her and laughed, only briefly before he gave his eyes to the fire again. He was an entirely different man under that cocky, playboy veneer. "Believe me, I'm not trying to be charming. It's a curse, really."
"Please," a third voice intervened. Tisper hadn't heard him coming until he was skirting around the fire, taking a squat on a rotting log she'd been too afraid to sit on herself. "You're always trying to be charming, Bronx. A bit of a skank if you ask me."
Quentin grinned across the flames to him, sharp pearly canines glistening in the fire's glare. "It's good to see you, Bo. I'm glad none of you were hurt."
"We're fine," Bo said. "Just starved. The fish won't last us through the night."
"I'll go into town and call for a van first thing in the morning to take you to Portland. I want you to stay there; I don't trust that they won't come looking for you at the watch. The rest of us will return North at the break of dawn." His eyes only tore from the fire to look at Jaylin, and then it was like they couldn't break away. "I have to get him to safety."
"Where will you take him?" Bo asked.
"I think it's best if I don't say."
Bo shook his head and cast a look to Quentin from beneath his hooded brows. "Well, that's fine and dandy, boss. But there's a reason I asked. This kid...his curse. There's something different about it."
Quentin straightened, finally tore his eyes away to look at Bo. "What is it?"
"I was there when Anna..." he trailed off. "I was one of the patrols you called in to guard her. I never saw her do anything like it. Quentin—he bent metal bars. Thick as baseball bats. And he didn't do it once. Five times, Bronx. He freed five of us from those cells."
Quentin's jaw set and he looked down to Jaylin. So small under his thermal blanket, cheeks pink from the heat of the fire where his curse hadn't reached, ears red from the cold.
Tisper was speechless, but Quentin—he just watched Jaylin. Watched him breathe.
"Did Anna ever do anything like that? Did she have that kind of strength?" Bo asked.
"No," Quentin said.
Bo's thick brows pinched together and he questioned Quentin through the flames, "So why don't you look surprised?"
"Because I'm not," Quentin said. "I knew from the beginning that he was different."
"A game changer?" Bo asked.
"No," Quentin said. "A prophecy."