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“Why would he be worried about that?” Denny could be a grouch, sure—he and Xander didn’t always see eye to eye—but he was also a great tracker and a strong ally. He’d helped us find Rylan. Thanks to him, Ryder was in reach now, too.
“He hid it from us, Cheeks,” Xander explained. “He could have mentioned it at any point. It’s not like the subject hasn’t come up. Instead, he chose to keep it under wraps. Probably hoped we’d never find out about it at all.”
“You’re still paying him. That’s why he’s working with us in the first place,” I reminded Xander. “I don’t see how a blood curse would change anything between the two of you.”
“The curse alone, maybe not,” he allowed. “But once you factor in the deception… I’m paying him, sure. I think he’ll do the job he’s been hired for. But we have more than just the boys to worry about. With Samuel and Quincy still out there somewhere… When it comes to choosing allies, we need trust more than anything right now, and I don’t know how much I can trust Denny anymore.”
“Maybe he was just embarrassed,” I suggested, determined to stay hopeful. I didn’t want to dislike Denny. I certainly didn’t want to distrust him. If Xander needed a tracker, Ryder’s fate would be in Denny’s hands. “Your mom hid her curse too, remember?”
“And look where that’s got us,” Xander said darkly. “There are only two ways to get a blood curse, Cheeks. If he inherited it like Ma did, then fine. No skin off my back. That’s his business. Though, it does make me wonder what other secrets he might have.”
“And if he didn’t inherit it?” I bit my lip, already dreading Xander’s answer.
“Then, he broke his oath to an alpha.” Xander sighed again, heavier this time. “It means he’s not a man of his word.”
* * *
Xander and I kept in touch almost constantly over the next few days. He and Denny were still going out each morning to prowl the Strip, just on the off chance that they might find Melony before she found them. So far, they’d caught her scent in the crowd a few more times but never long enough to follow it.
Over text while they worked, Xander sent me amusing descriptions of people he’d seen on the Strip, complaints about how long this was taking, stream-of-consciousness rambles about what he should order for lunch. From the length and frequency of his messages, I got the sense that he and Denny weren’t talking much.
In return, I kept Xander updated about everything going at home. Marianne’s transfer to Evergreen General had gone smoothly. Dylan reported that Tony had a comfy armchair to sleep in there, the food was passable, and the nurses were nice. Though Marianne still hadn’t come to, her new doctors were optimistic.
“They said they’ve seen bigger turnarounds happen for patients in worse shape,” Dylan announced after returning from a visit. “We’re not even hoping for a miracle, apparently. Just a little luck.”
Equally promising was Kingston’s sudden turnaround. Bashfully, Gena had accepted my proposal, and had started coming over to the lodge each day to work with him. As it turned out, Kingston could be a model patient when it suited him, and being nursed by a pretty brunette seemed to suit him very well.
“He took his meds today,” Gena announced to me in an excited whisper. “Like, he was surly about it, but I think half of it was just for show.”
“That sounds like our Kingston,” I admitted with a laugh. “Do you think they helped?”
“I know they did,” she admitted. “He was so surprised when they kicked in. I don’t think he even realized how much pain he’s been in.”
“You’re a miracle worker, Gena.” Convincing Kingston to do something he didn’t want to do was no small feat. “Do you think you could talk him into some PT next?”
She smiled conspiratorially. “I think I might be able to nudge him in the right direction, yeah.”
* * *
“Are we out of peanut butter?” I called from the pantry. I’d scanned the shelves a dozen times or more, but the jar Dylan had brought home with the groceries yesterday was nowhere to be found.
“Ah, shit. Yeah, we are,” Kingston called back from the kitchen. “Sorry. I polished it off last night.”
It was nearing lunch time, three days after Xander’s visit with Mama Striga. Rylan was nestled in his baby sling, strapped tightly to my chest.
I’d almost forgotten how hungry breastfeeding made me. Supposedly, it only burned a few hundred extra calories a day, but I hadn’t been eating enough after the abduction and was paying for it dearly now. My stomach felt like it contained nothing but a small, starving animal, clawing at my guts as it yowled for food.
“We don’t have any bread, either,” I grumbled, shifting through the preserves. Nearly twenty jars of home-sealed tomatoes and pickles lined the shelves, but those hardly made a meal on their own. “Or crackers. Kingston?”
“Well…”
I poked my head out of the pantry to find Kingston twiddling his thumbs bashfully.
“I needed something to eat the peanut butter with,” he admitted. “Sorry, but Dylan just went shopping yesterday, didn’t he? Maybe there’s stuff in the fridge.”
In the fridge, I found a myriad of vegetables but no fruit. There were chicken breasts in the meat drawer, but I put them back shortly after pulling them out. We were out of pepper and salt.
“How do we have so much food in the house but nothing to eat?” I moaned as my stomach twisted and growled.
