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Peace. A taste of it, anyway, and I give up a silent prayer to whatever god will listen that more of this awaits me at the end of our hunt. Max draws in a deep breath and releases it slowly. I look up at him and see the moment taking effect. It’s made sweeter by each other’s presence.
Another peculiar feeling sweeps over me, one I haven’t felt in a very long time. Trust. I’ve completely put my faith in him and feel vindicated for doing so. Which is why, when I stop to tell him something, I believe he’ll receive it well. “Max,” I say, and he turns to face me, recognizing the gravity in my tone.
“What is it, Asha?”
He needs to know. Where I stand. What my future entails. Before we go any deeper.
“After we put this whole thing behind us, there are going to be survivors. Blood Pack members who will need help and guidance.”
He nods, his eyes focused intently on mine.
I continue, “I’m going to have to be around for them. They’ll need someone who isn’t, well, as fucked up as they are, frankly. Someone who knows them, who they can trust, looking out for them. And that person is going to have to make them their priority.”
He nods again, solemnly. “I understand completely. You have a duty to fulfill.”
And you do too. But maybe there can be more than our responsibilities. Maybe there’s room for this too.
I take his hands in mine and hold them between us. “That doesn’t mean I need to leave you.”
He smiles, like I’m stating the obvious. “Of course not. You know, despite your experience with the Enforcers, there are actually agents with lives outside of work. Maybe I could be one of them, now that I have something else to focus on.” He takes a breath and gazes off into the distance, as though watching this future unfold. “A pack is usually more than four. We could use an expansion.” He looks back at me. “I joined the Enforcers because I wanted to help people. I don’t know another group of people more in need of help than your pack.”
My heart swells. Does he really mean it? I search his face for any traces of doubt and see none. Unable to stop myself, I throw my arms around him and squeeze him tightly. He reciprocates, planting a kiss atop my head.
As we embrace, everything is perfect with my world, until the acrid scent of dark magic cuts through the melange of trees and plant life to spoil the moment. He feels me stiffen in his arms and asks, “What is it?”
More attuned to the odor of dark magic, I’ve scented it before he has the chance. “I smell him,” I say. “He was here recently.” Once I pick up on it, the feeling overwhelms me. Even though I know he’s no longer in town, it feels like he’s right over my shoulder.
“Where?”
Too close. Which means trouble.
I turn and follow its repellent trail, leading Max by the hand back into the real world.
FIVE
Asha
Like a rope tied around my waist, the awareness of the dark magic pulls me along, leading me through town. We cut away from the main drag, down an alley, the scent urging me on. I feel like a bloodhound, compelled by its sense of smell to chase down the mystery. It won’t release its grip on me until I’ve found its origin.
Dread steals over me, but it does nothing to assuage my feverish instinct. A voice blares in my thoughts, Find it, find it, Asha, FIND IT! And I’m desperate to, if only to make it shut up.
The use of dark magic means danger. And usually death. So far, my brother has only ever left behind a trail of violence. I just hope that this time I’m not too late to stop it.
My mind comes up with a thousand different scenarios where I might still be able to save this small town from the heartbreak of my brother’s cruelty, but each scenario feels like a lie, even to my mind. If my brother is already gone, the damage is already done.
Don’t think that way. Try to remember what it felt like to have hope. To have things end well.
I come to the backdoor of an apartment complex. The voice is telling me to go through it, even though my heart is begging me not to, whispering that I only just started to put together the tattered remains of my heart and mind. I’m not ready for this.
Except, I have no choice.
I wrap my fist around the knob and give a tug, but as I probably should have predicted, it’s locked. Probably deadbolted. The door is metal, heavy-duty, meant to keep would-be robbers outside.
“Is it behind that door?” asks Max.
I nod without hesitation. “I think so.”
He directs me to the side of the door, and I smell his wolf raring forth. He doesn’t shift, but summons the beast’s power to drive his boot against the rear entry. The boot meets the metal with a resounding clang that echoes down the alley. The door swings inward, its deadbolt torn away and tossed onto the carpeted floor.
