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"But--"
He leaned forward. "I'm being honest with you, Elena. More honest than I'd dare be with anyone else. Everything is falling apart. I wasn't prepared to handle this. If I've been a good Alpha all these years it's because I've never been tested. Not like this. I started slow, feeling things out, gathering information. Peter and Logan got killed. I changed course and took off again, going after Jimmy Koenig. You almost got killed. I sent you two away where I thought you'd be safe. Less than a week later, Daniel found you. Now he has Clay."
"But--"
Jeremy stood and smiled down at me, a crooked half smile, and brushed a lock of hair off my shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am. But this is how it has to be."
Before I could respond, he was gone.
Despite Jeremy's orders, I had no intention of sitting on my hands and doing nothing. After all, he hadn't specifically forbidden me to do anything. So I started to plan.
Step one: find an ally. This was easy. Well, there wasn't a lot of selection, but even if there had been, Nick would be the obvious choice. Not only was he Clay's best friend, but he'd been shut out of the rescue plan as well, and was as unhappy about it as I. Jeremy claimed he needed Nick to guard me, but even Nick was smart enough to know that Jeremy wasn't telling him anything for fear he'd take it back to me. I persuaded Nick by saying I only wanted to gather information, so we could prove our value to Jeremy. Not that this was a lie. I had every intention of sharing any information I uncovered with Jeremy. And if he still refused to let me help? I didn't worry about that. I could always renegotiate my arrangement with Nick later.
Step two: plot a course of action. Jeremy would be trying to find where the mutts were keeping Clay. It didn't take a genius to figure this out. Bargaining with Daniel would only be a cover to keep him busy while Jeremy figured out where they were staying. Nick confirmed this. Yesterday, before he was cut out of the plan, Jeremy had sent him and Antonio to the Big Bear Motor Lodge. Everyone except Daniel had checked out of the motel on Monday. Daniel had checked out Wednesday. So the conclusion I'd drawn, and likely the same one Jeremy had drawn, was that the mutts had found another hiding place and had taken Clay there upon his return from Toronto. Since I didn't want to interfere with Jeremy's plans--or, more realistically, I didn't want to get caught interfering--I'd have to leave the mutt-tracking to him and find another way to discover where they were hiding Clay.
Step three: divert attention from my activities. Had it been anyone but Jeremy, I'd have played the role of the cowed subordinate. To Jeremy, though, that would be a sure sign that I was up to something. So, I bitched and complained and made his life hell. He expected nothing less. Every chance I got, I demanded, begged, or wheedled to be let in on his plans. Finally, after an evening and morning of being in his face at every possible opportunity, I gave him an ultimatum. If he didn't find Clay in three days, I was going after him with or without Jeremy's permission. He therefore assumed that he had three days before I started raising hell again, so he relaxed. An ingenious ruse if I do say so myself.
Although Nick had agreed to help me, he refused to disobey Jeremy's order of house arrest, so I couldn't actually go anywhere. Well, I could knock Nick over the head and make a run for it, but I wouldn't do that to him. Besides, Jeremy would only find me and bring me back and Nick wouldn't be too enthusiastic about helping me again if he was suffering from a concussion.
The first thing I did was call the hospital. No, I didn't call the local hospital on some premonition that they might have Clay or know where he was. I called St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto. I hadn't forgotten that I'd left Philip bleeding on the floor of our apartment. I'll admit I might not have spent as much time dwelling on it as I should have, but I knew his injuries weren't life threatening, at least not after I'd stopped the bleeding and called for help, and Clay's situation was far more dire, so I think I can be excused if my attentions weren't evenly divided between the two. Philip wasn't at St. Mike's. The emergency room had been closed to new arrivals last Tuesday afternoon, not an uncommon occurrence after years of health care budget cuts. Philip had been taken to Toronto East General and was still there. I spoke to the nurse on his floor, introducing myself as his sister, and learned that he'd suffered some internal injuries and had required surgery, but he was recovering and was expected to leave on Monday, which meant he'd actually be feeling
better by next Wednesday or Thursday--budget cuts again. She offered to put me through to his room to speak to him, but I declined, claiming I didn't want to disturb his rest. The truth was I was too much of a coward to speak to him. Even if he forgave me for abandoning him, there was the small matter of having watched me Change into a wolf. I settled for sending him flowers with a note saying I'd see him soon, and hoped that didn't scare him back into intensive care.
The next thing I did was call the local real estate office. No, not because I was planning to move out and needed a place to stay. Tempting idea, but I knew I wouldn't get far. If Jeremy had tracked me to a field in upstate New York-- and he still wouldn't tell me how he'd accomplished that--then he could certainly find me living in Bear Valley, either before or after the mutts found me. Either way, I wasn't suicidal. I called the real estate office to check for homes rented or purchased in the past couple of weeks, particularly houses in the rural area. Only three homes had been sold in the Bear Valley district recently. Two were bought by young families and the third by a retirement-age couple. There were more rentals, but all to longtime Bear Valley residents.
When the house idea didn't pan out, I looked for a possible cottage rental. The bad news was that we lived in cottage country. The good news was that it was still early in the season and the Bear Valley area itself wasn't prime cottage land, having too many trees and too few lakes and waterways. I called the Bear Valley Cottage Association. With a little ingenuity, a lot of lying, and even more politeness--Jeremy had taught me well--I discovered that only four local cottages were being rented, three to honeymooning couples and the fourth to a bunch of middle-aged men from New York who came up every May for some kind of male-bonding-in-the-wilderness therapeutic retreat. Another dead end. I'd have to try another tack. I just wasn't sure yet what that might be.
Purposeful action made the hours fly past, leaving little time to brood over Clay's situation. By evening though, I was left alone with my thoughts. I was tending the fire in the study. It didn't need tending. It didn't even need to be lit, the temperature outside still hovering in the mid-seventies. But there was comfort sitting on the hearth, poking at the logs and watching the fire dance and spark. Unnecessary action was better than no action. Besides, staring at the flames had a mesmerizing effect, giving me something to concentrate on other than the thoughts and fears that kept slipping past the mental barriers I'd carefully erected in the past twenty-four hours.
I wasn't alone in the study. Nick was there, half dozing on the couch. Every so often he'd open his eyes and say something. We'd talk for a few minutes, then the conversation would begin moving dangerously close to Clay and we'd both fall silent. As the clock on the mantel chimed midnight, Nick woke again. He tilted his head backward over the arm of the sofa and looked at the window.
"Full moon coming," he said. "Two, three days?"
"Two."
"I'll need to run. How about you?"
I managed a small smile. "You know perfectly well that I don't need to run, since I did more than enough of that three days ago. What you really want to know is: will I run with you and save you from the horrifying prospect of having to run alone."
"I don't know how you did it in Toronto all those months," he said with a shudder. "I had to do it a couple times last winter. Tonio took off on business and Logan was wrapped up in some court case and Clay-- Anyway, I had to Change by myself."
"Poor baby."
"It was awful. It was, like, walk out to the woods, Change, stand there until enough time passed, Change back. It was about as much fun as taking a shit."
"Nice analogy."
"I'm serious. Come on, Elena. Admit it. That's what it's like if you're by yourself. I remember when I was a kid, before my first Change, and Clay used to--"
He stopped. This time, he didn't pick up again. Silence fell and I turned back toward the fire, poking it and watching the sparks cascade from the logs. The door opened. I heard Jeremy come in, but didn't turn around. A moment later, the sofa springs groaned as Nick got up. He walked across the room and the door closed again. Jeremy sat beside me on the hearth. His hand touched the back of my head, hesitated, then stroked my hair.
"I know how difficult this is for you, Elena. I know how scared you are, how afraid you are of losing him."
"It's not that. I mean, of course I'm afraid of losing him. But if you think it's because I've suddenly realized how much I love him and that if--when we get him back, I'll come home and everything will be fine, then you're wrong. I'm sorry. I know you want that, that it would be easier for you and everyone else, but it's not going to happen. Yes, I care about him. Very much. And yes, I want him back. I want him back for you and for Nick and for the Pack. I'm upset because I hold myself responsible."
Jeremy said nothing.
I looked over my shoulder at him. "So you hold me responsible, too?"
