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“Amen to that.”
Which, upon reflection, was a very strange thing to hear a vampire say.
Chapter 9
I BROUGHT FOOD to my next meeting with the soldiers. A bundle of take-out lamb kabobs from a Greek place, juicy meat and not much else. I hoped they’d go over well. Food always made things better, right? Tyler and Walters perked up when I set the Styrofoam boxes on the table, their noses working as the room filled with the smell of warm cooked meat. I wondered when was the last time they’d had a real meal.
Their expressions and stances changed when Ben followed me into the cell. Tyler at the table, Walters from his usual place hunched up on the cot, glowered at him, lips parted, like they were thinking of growling. Their noses wrinkled, as if they smelled something bad. Tyler flexed his hands, and his shoulders bunched up. When I introduced him, they looked up him and down, judging. While they recognized him from the scuffle in the woods, they hadn’t gotten a good look at him then. Now they were deciding whether they could take him down. Who was bigger, tougher, and all that. I wanted to cling to Ben, to say, You can’t have him, he’s mine, I’m his, hands off. Like Ben couldn’t stand up for himself.
This was where Ben’s human background served him well. As a werewolf, he didn’t look that tough: lean, wiry, unassuming. Not as built and hardcore as someone like Tyler. But as a criminal defense lawyer, he had that stare. That smirk. He’d spent a lot of time in jails and courtrooms dealing with not-very-nice people, and not a lot phased him. He projected that image now, and it made the tough guys look at him twice.
They didn’t shake hands or go through any of the Hey, what’s up, how’s it going greeting rituals that normally accompanied a meeting of total strangers. Instead, they exchanged a subtle acknowledgment of politeness: no one was going to get offended, no one was going to start a fight, no one was going to try to assert dominance over anyone else. Tyler nodded and glanced away, acknowledging Ben’s presence, not offering a c
hallenge. Walters studied us while not engaging. He’d throw occasional glances—trying not to stare, which would have looked like a challenge. I couldn’t figure him out. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or just stubborn and refusing to play nice.
Ben and I sat at the table, opened packages of food, and started eating. This was one of the things that made my human side twitch—the human side wanted to offer food to Tyler and Walters first, out of politeness. But to the Wolf, that would have meant handing over authority—alpha wolf ate first. So Ben and I started eating, and the others watched, which meant they were still willing to give me the authority.
“You two should come eat something,” I said after the first minute. I pushed one of the boxes to Tyler, who ducked his gaze and took up a skewer of meat. Walters gathered himself, hesitating and drawn to the meal at the same time. I left one of the skewers in front of the empty chair and didn’t look at him again.
Soon, all four of us were sitting around the table, having what from the outside looked like a normal meal. Success. Then, we talked. Just talked. I asked about favorite foods, bad restaurant experiences, hometowns, and families. Got them to open up a little—got them to ask questions. I wanted to show them that werewolves could have lives. I passed around cans of soda. Maybe next time we’d bring beer. I didn’t really trust them with beer just yet.
Eventually, the conversation came around to the elephant in the room: the supernatural, being a werewolf, and what else was out there.
“Vampires? There really are vampires?” Tyler said.
I forgot how little experience they had.
“Yup, there really are,” I said.
“I guess I figured they were real,” he said. “You turn into a werewolf and figure a lot of things must be real, right? But it’s weird. I never thought I’d actually meet one.”
“I can arrange that, if you want,” I said.
“I don’t know that I do,” Tyler said.
“They smell funny,” Ben said. “Kind of dead but not really.”
“You’d like Rick. He’s very easygoing, for a vampire,” I said.
“I still wouldn’t want to piss him off,” Ben said.
“No,” I agreed wryly.
“Do you run into a lot of this kind of thing? Vampires, rogue werewolves, whatever?” Tyler asked.
“Yeah, I kind of do,” I said.
“How?” he said. “I know you said you were attacked, but how? You don’t exactly look like the creepy supernatural type. Either one of you. You look like a typical yuppie couple. No offense.”
None taken. In fact, I was sort of flattered. Ben and I looked at each other, exchanging one of those familiar glances, all our history passing between us. Neither one of us had chosen this life. But we’d done pretty well with it, together.
“My cousin’s a hunter,” Ben said. “I was helping him out when I was attacked.”
“I had a really bad date back in college.” I shrugged. That statement covered so much that a detailed explanation just couldn’t.
Tyler looked as if he wanted to ask questions, to get elaboration, but he only shook his head. “I volunteered for this. But Captain Gordon—he didn’t tell us everything. Like how to deal with people. What to do when you don’t have anyplace to run.”
“I think he expected us all to come home together,” Walters said into his food. He’d raised his head to look at us, his expression mournful. Wounded, I decided. He was wounded. “He expected us to still be a pack. That he would still be taking care of us.”
