“What do you see, Gabby?” Winifred asked.
We walked together in a cluster—the same arrangement we used for practices—toward our vehicles that we’d parked several blocks away.
“Mass movement in their facility to the north. So many are fleeing it. I see Olivia’s spark moving, too.”
“Keep an eye on her,” Bethi said.
Gabby nodded.
“So what now?” Isabelle asked.
“We wait and see where they take Olivia and go after her,” Bethi said. “She’s the last of us.”
My stomach dipped, and I tried reaching for my sister again.
Sofia. Tell me where you are so we can come for you.
Don’t come. The message was faint. I’m already dead.
“And when we find her?” Isabelle asked as we entered the parking garage. My mind barely registered the conversation as I felt the truth of my sister’s words over our weakening link.
Isabelle’s love brushed my mind, a comfort to the pain I hid from her.
I love you. Thank you for always protecting me as I once protected you. A wave of love so intense and pure, washed through my mind, dissolving any pain. Live and love your Mate. Don’t let them win.
And with those words, the link disappeared.
“The Taupe Lady has been a little vague on that part. But I’m still having dreams and learning. By the time we find Olivia, I hope I’ll know more,” Bethi said, answering Isabelle.
“For now, I think it’s safe to head back to the apartments,” Charlene said.
Isabelle’s hand in mine kept me moving. My sister was gone, and her last words confirmed what I’d always thought. The Urbat had killed my parents and taken my twin from me. Why? I needed to know. However, I’d only get an explanation one way. We needed to get to the Urbat. To their leader. Blake. I swallowed hard and breathed deeply. Determination built behind the wall. I wouldn’t let the Urbat have anything more.
Giving Isabelle’s hand a light squeeze, I locked my grief away. I would love my Mate and live, and when the time came, the Urbat would pay.
When we split up to get into the cars, Jim joined us and sat in front with Grey. As soon as he settled into the front seat, he turned to Grey.
“Think we can stop somewhere to eat? Our fridge is cleaned out.”
“Where do you put it all?” Isabelle asked.
“In my stomach.” He winked at her, and I kicked his seat. He wasn’t an Elder; he was an unMated male.
Tell him to stop winking at my Mate, I sent Grey.
“Nice bruise, by the way,” Jim said, studying her face. “What’s the other guy look like?”
“He’s still breathing,” she said.
Jim grinned and faced forward as Grey stopped to pay on the way out of the parking garage.
“Gabby says Olivia is moving,” he said, joining the slow stream of traffic. “She thinks a car maybe.”
“What direction?” Isabelle asked.
“So far, north.”
We rode in silence as Grey navigated the streets back to the apartments. Sidewalks that had been crowded with people walking with purpose were now filled with people looking at their phones. Tension and disbelief filled the air and filtered into the car.
Grey turned a familiar corner and pulled toward the garage door. The security guard opened the door and waited while our three vehicles drove in.
The guard’s gaze stayed on Winifred as she got out of the car.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the older man said, looking at her while we grabbed our bags.
Grey and Sam shared a concerned glance. Isabelle, however, grinned and waved everyone to keep moving.
“We’ll see you upstairs, Winifred,” she said, nudging Grey.
Sam frowned at her and lingered long enough that he walked beside us toward the door leading upstairs. The guard watched us, making no move to say anything more to Winifred.
“Why are we just leaving her?” Sam asked as he stepped into the stairwell.
The door shut behind us, and Isabelle turned to peek out the narrow security window.
“Because he’s sweet on her. And worried that she’s walking around in a robe,” she said quietly.
“Sweet?” Sam said. “As Elders we can’t—”
“Hush. Every woman wants to know she’s pretty. Winifred just exposed herself on national TV. Let her have this moment.”
Isabelle remained peering out the window for another second then turned suddenly.
“Time to go,” she said, almost running into me.
I moved aside and followed her, not questioning Sam who remained.
“Well, that was an exciting morning. What should we do this afternoon to top it?” Isabelle asked once we reached our apartment.
“Rest,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose and walked toward the fridge. I followed closely, enjoying her playful mood. Without Isabelle, I would have been completely alone in this world. No. Not true. I’d had family since the moment Grey found me. Isabelle just completed the circle.
“Boring,” she said. “What are you going to make me for lunch?”
“What would you like?” I asked, willing to make her whatever she wanted.
“What are my options?”
I set my hands on her shoulders, just to touch her.
“Burgers, pizza, cereal?”
She turned with a grin pulling her lips. I wanted to kiss her so badly. Yet the skin of her upper lip was still puffy and very bruised.
“You speak my language,” she said.
I gently touched her face.
“How long will it take for this to fade?”
“I dunno,” she said with a shrug. “A week. Maybe a bit more. Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you.”
Her pulse spiked, and I felt her agreement through our link.
“So kiss me.”
She tempted me like nothing else. Slowly, I shook my head.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She tried to pout, and I playfully swatted her butt. The feel of her curves burned my palm.
“Hey,” she said. “What happened to not hurting me?”
“Go sit, and I’ll cook for you.”
She went to the couch and turned on the TV while I started pulling things from the refrigerator.
“Check this out,” she said.
I closed the door and went to stand beside her. A news feed ran on the bottom of the screen.
Live air interruption causes widespread speculation. Are werewolves real? Tune in at 10.
“Well, we seem to have gotten the attention Bethi wanted,” she said, lifting the remote to check other stations. Similar messages displayed on several of the channels. One mentioned Blake by name and had a phone number for anyone to call with his whereabouts.
Are you watching the television? I sent Grey.
Yes, and Gabby is continuing to watch Urbat movement. Bethi is very relieved by the outcome.
I went back to the kitchen and started making burgers. Isabelle’s growing concern brushed my mind.
“Crap,” she said.
Glancing at the TV, I saw an image of me hitting one of the mutt’s we’d faced at the new station. The angle was from behind him so the camera caught Isabelle’s face, too.
I turned off the burner and went to stand by her again. We watched the replay together as the men fell to their knees, and I knocked them both out. The screen changed to close ups of both of our faces.
They have footage of me and Isabelle outside the elevator. Our faces are clearly visible, I sent Grey.
I’m coming over with Winifred.
“Well,” Isabelle said. “The good news is that I’m barely recognizable thanks to the bruise and swelling.”
“Grey and Winifred are coming to watch.”
A second later, the door opened. Isabelle didn’t look away from the TV as Winifred and Grey joined us.
In addition to the close ups of Isabelle and me, there were grainy images of Gabby, Luke, and Sam. They had an image of Clay, but with his facial hair, he would be hard to identify. Bethi was safe. All the images they had of her were with her head down as she walked. Grey had managed to consistently block any clear image of Charlene.
“Perhaps we should leave New York,” Winifred said.
“We don’t know where we’d be going yet,” Isabelle said. “I think we should hole up, let this blow over a little bit, and give Gabby a chance to figure out where Olivia is headed, and Bethi a chance to dream some answers.”
“I think Isabelle is right,” Grey said. “We are safer here than driving around out there.”
Winifred sighed heavily and nodded.
“Reach out to everyone, Grey, and let them know of the aftermath of what we’ve done. We need to keep our people safe,” she said.
He nodded as she stood and walked toward the door.
“I’ll speak with Bethi,” she said, “and see if she has any guesses where we might go from here if she doesn’t receive any new information from her dreams.”
Grey ate burgers with us as we continued to watch the news stream. When he finished, he left to check on the others. Isabelle didn’t move from the couch, and I was content to sit beside her.
Reporters took to the streets, asking random people what they thought of the day’s revelation. Some were still unaware and showed their shock. Many claimed it was a hoax as Isabelle had predicted. That, in turn, led to several very detailed analyses done by “experts” on the live footage of Winifred shifting.
“How detailed can this report be if it was done in just a few hours?” Isabelle said under her breath as she listened to the current analyst claiming Winifred’s change to be a hoax.
I felt Isabelle’s burst of agreement when the news anchor asked, “If this is a hoax, why then is there a large scale search being done for Blake Torrin, the named Urbat leader?”
They continued their debate for several minutes before the station cut to commercials.
“This is kind of fun,” Isabelle said, standing to get herself a glass of water. “Who would have thought mere minutes of air time could turn into hours of speculation? Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
She went to the cupboard, grabbed a glass, and started to fill it at the faucet. I stood and went to stand behind her.
“You haven’t said what you think of everything,” I said, a little loudly as she turned off the water. I grinned slightly, knowing she still thought me on the couch. When she turned, her eyes grew wide and her pulse spiked. Then, she scowled at me.
“You’ve got to stomp when you move around. You’re going to kill me with this sneaking.”
“I like surprising you,” I said.
“Really. Why is that?”
“The surge of adrenaline,” I inhaled deeply, “changes your scent.”
“Um, I’m guessing in a good way?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Well, you’re just going to have to find a different way to make your sniffer happy because scaring the daylights out of me for the rest of our lives isn’t going to cut it.”
I stole her glass and took a drink just to taste her again.
“The rest of our lives,” I said, handing the glass back. “I like the sound of that.”
“Of course you do because you like how I smell,” she said, walking back to the couch.
“And move.”
She exaggerated her walk, and I groaned. I loved the way she moved.
“Come on, big guy. Let’s snuggle.”