House of wolves, p.24
House of Wolves, page 24
Hallam doesn’t say a word when he steps out of the shadows and grabs me from behind. I wish I had let Lou talk me out of this before I focused on potentially the most direct and probably the dumbest course of action. Before I can fight back, there’s an arm clamped firmly around my neck while Hallam’s other arm snakes around me to hold my arms at my sides.
He’s bigger than me, stronger, and seemingly unaffected by the cold. I suppose he’s been sheltered and comfortable in a wolf’s body this whole time, while I hiked out here on my own two feet.
My impulsivity may have led to success last time when Jasper and I managed to bring Cal home with only motivation on our side, but now I’m beginning to fear that I’ve put too much faith in the ideas that run through my head at a hundred kilometres an hour. I can’t problem-solve my way out of a crisis, or create my own way out of a situation, when that situation currently has me in a headlock. My brain grinds to a halt, and there’s only one thought inside my head:
Shit.
“So they sent you,” Hallam finally says. He laughs. “Interesting.”
“I told you to back off,” I growl. It takes everything in me to keep my voice steady.
He chuckles. “Yes, you did. It was hilarious.”
“What do you want?”
Hallam hums. “I want what’s mine.”
“They don’t belong to you.”
“They certainly don’t belong here,” Hallam returns. “Like I told Jasper, they would have been safe with me. They’ll never be safe so long as they choose to surround themselves with humans.” He throws me to the ground in front of him, and I scramble to my feet. I don’t have time to argue before he continues his bored monologue. I would run, but I don’t want to turn my back on him.
“Samuel Vankev,” he says, mulling over the name as if it’s strange. “Not a name I’ve heard in a while. He was impressive, if not a bit radical. I never really cared what he did, but I suppose I should be glad he finally failed.” Hallam paces lazily toward me as he speaks. “I would have had to take a son for a son, and, well,” he chuckles, “while I don’t think it would have hurt him in the least, I would have hated for him to turn his attention to me and mine again. I’ve got a wife and daughter to worry about, you know?”
His attention snaps firmly back to me when I attempt a step backwards, away from him.
“What really surprises me is that you’re still alive,” he says. “I have a hunch about how you did it.” At that, he lunges at me. I throw my hands up in front of my face to block whatever blow is coming and stumble back a few steps. The contact never comes despite the panic that shoots up my spine.
I lower my hands to find Hallam watching me. “That’s what I thought.” I realize he’s staring at my eyes. I don’t know what he sees. He sighs. “New wolves are always a bit volatile. You don’t know how to control yourselves. You’re a liability. Accalia’s doing?”
I don’t respond, but he nods as if I’ve said yes.
“You know,” he says, deep in thought, “there is something I’ve always wondered. Judging by your pathetically valiant effort here to save my daughter, maybe I’ll find out for myself.”
I don’t have time to ask what he means before he’s on me again. Once more, I’m overpowered, and it perturbs me.
I remind myself that I just need to hold him out here until the cops come and scare him off. I’ll be fine.
It’ll be fine.
He wrenches my left arm up behind my back and twists. The gunshot wound may be healed, but a sharp jolt of pain still makes its way through my bones. I grit my teeth against the sensation and the fear that he’s about to break my arm again.
“Do you think you love her?” he teases.
I don’t answer, and he wrenches my arm further behind my back at a very wrong angle.
“You’ve had your filthy hands all over my daughter, haven’t you?”
Again, I don’t give him the courtesy of a response.
“Do you know what I heard? I heard there’s a special connection between lovebirds like you, sort of like the one between Accalia and I. Do you know what you share? No? Let’s find out.” It’s like he’s speaking entirely to himself. “You know, if Calia wants to keep you, you’re welcome to come home with us. You are hers, after all. You’ll have to play by the rules, though.”
I finally find my words. “She won’t go with you.”
“No?”
“You can’t make her.”
He laughs. “Oh, but I can. Calia knows where she belongs. She’ll come when I call. Now, are you thinking about her?”
I fall back into silence, unwilling to cooperate. It’s all the power I have.
Hallam puts more force behind his grip on me. I can almost feel every minor fracture in my shoulder that healed before, pulling back apart. My arm gives a sick pop, and I worry he’s dislocated it. It’s too hard to tell where the pain begins and ends between the old injury and the numbing cold. I gag at the sensation, but Hallam just laughs.
“Think about her,” Hallam coos. “Think about Accalia, and all the pain will go away.”
“No.”
“But you don’t know how to stop it, do you?” In one fluid motion, he maneuvers us both onto the ground. He keeps my bad arm pinned behind my back and kneels on my spine, putting pressure on a tender spot that can’t support it. I hiss against the burning pain that shoots from my back down every nerve in my lower body. “Think about Calia. Show her what’s happening. Let her know what you’re going through for her. Tell her what a hero you are.”
Numbness creeps into my limbs. It’s not from the cold or the pain. Every sensation is slowly disappearing, and I can’t feel anything.
The cold seeps from my feet, leaving no feeling behind. I no longer register the icy ground beneath my legs. The lightning in my nerves begins to recede until even Hallam’s weight disappears. He’s still there. I just can’t feel it.
The numbness travels further, soothing the pain in my shoulder and releasing the sick tension of it being pulled at the joint. Finally, even the snow beneath my cheek where I’ve been forced to the ground seems to disappear. I can see it, but I can’t feel anything.
I’m aware of my body relaxing, the muscles fighting against pain, now losing tension, even as the pain should worsen beneath Hallam’s weight.
“You can’t feel a thing, can you?” Hallam says.
“What did you do?”
He laughs. “I did nothing. You have given every bit of pain you feel to Calia. Do you know what that means?”
“Stop it,” I snarl.
“Do you?” He repeats. “You must be destined for quite the love story.” He says every word mockingly. “There are old Wolves’ tales about the lovers, but I never thought they were true. Stories of soulmates, couples who can feel each other’s pain. Do you think it’s a gift or a curse? Do you think Calia sees what a beautiful connection she forged between you two when she bit you, or do you think she’s writhing in pain, wondering why her beloved is hurting her?”
“Stop.” I don’t know if I believe him, but the numbness that has settled over me like a blanket is unnatural, and I have no other explanation for it. Hallam and Cal are connected in that he has control over her. Jasper and Cal can share thoughts. Is there something between me and Cal?
“Do you think she’s coming to save you, now? She knows you’re being hurt. Do you think she’ll come home to me to save you?”
Horrified, I know she will. Cal already blamed herself for my being hurt before. I have no doubt she’ll be on her way out here to Hallam if she thinks that I could be hurt again. Not even Lou could convince her to stay.
I try, desperately, to pull the pain back into my own body. I focus on my bad shoulder. I imagine the pain I should be in.
Nothing. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can bring the pain back to myself now that I’ve accidentally handed it off to Cal – if Hallam is telling the truth.
“Stop it, please,” I beg, unable to stop from hurting Cal in any other way. “You’re hurting her.”
“I’m hurting you,” Hallam corrects.
We’re interrupted by a low crooning echoing through the woods. The sound travels despite the wind that carries away my voice, forcing me to shout every word I’ve spoken to Hallam. The cry comes again, and Hallam stills. It isn’t a siren: it’s a howl.
“No,” I cry.
Hallam laughs, arrogant. “Is she coming to save you, Matthew?”
The first howl is joined by a second, two notes coming together to harmonize.
Hallam steps off of me, distracted as well by the second cry. Still numb, I get to my feet.
Two of them.
Jasper made Cal turn him.
No.
If Cal came now to get me away from Hallam, Jasper would come with her. She wouldn’t be able to convince him to let her come back to Hallam on her own, just like Cal herself would never be convinced to stay away. All she would be able to do to protect him is turn him so that they don’t both lose their free will to their father.
Emmet said that changing without the moon is difficult, but Cal can change on command easily. How easily could she plant that ability directly into Jasper’s mind as if the learning curve had been his own?
Too easily.
Would Cal give up her freedom, and would Jasper give up his humanity, just to help me?
I hate that the answer is, without a doubt, yes. I hate that I can only hope against all odds that isn’t what they’ve done. I can only hope that my ears are tricking me and I don’t hear them. I can hope that the two of them will put themselves first for once.
I know better.
“Leave them alone,” I say. It’s the only thing I can manage: I can’t stop Cal and Jasper if they’ve decided to come after me. The only one here is Hallam, and all I have are words.
He ignores me. He stares off into the dark as the howls fall silent and listens intently for them to come back.
“Why did you do it?” I yell. I think I’m starting to cry, overwhelmed and desperate, but I can’t feel the tears running down my face. I can hear the wind whistling between tree branches, but I can’t feel a thing. It’s unnerving. “Why did you take them? Why do you want to hurt them?”
“Quiet!” he snaps, finally rounding on me again. “I took what’s mine. Their mothers tried to take them from me, but I have a right to my children as their father. They’re better off with me no matter how ignorant to that fact you all want to be. I let Calia come back here out of the kindness of my heart, and she could have been shot. She was arrested, and Jasper was nearly killed.” He gestures aggressively to himself while he speaks. “I would have kept them safe. I would have protected them from Samuel. I only wish they would see that and come home willingly, but they’ll see eventually. For now, they’re mine whether they like it or not, and I am not losing them again.”
“They don’t belong to you,” I argue again. “They don’t want anything to do with you.”
I can’t stall him anymore. The howls come from closer now – still in the distance but moving toward us. Hallam turns away from me, refusing to acknowledge me any further. By the time he bounds away into the woods to follow the sounds of the other wolves, he’s a wolf himself.
When a third cry joins the chorus – Hallam’s – it sinks in that I’m going to lose Cal and Jasper again. Cal may have been hiding, unable to hear Hallam's call to her, but now his voice echoes through the woods. He could be heard for miles, and I don’t know if a wolf’s call is enough to bring Cal back under his control.
I just know I need to get to her first; however unlikely that may be on my own two feet.
I don’t think. I don’t worry about losing them just yet. I just run.
III
Accalia
Jasper and I sit next to each other on the cold hardwood floor.
By the time my heart has stopped pounding in my throat enough to speak, it sets in just how selfish it is to be hiding out while Matthew and now Lou are out there in danger. “They shouldn’t be doing this,” I say.
“If Hallam gets his hands on either of us, we’re useless,” Jasper counters. He’s reminding both of us.
“You hate it too. Don’t lie.”
He sighs. “I won’t forgive myself if they get hurt,” he admits. I knew that already – it’s so very him to blame himself for any potential harm that might happen. It used to annoy me, but I can’t fault him that now. I’ve spent enough time blaming myself for the suffering in my wake, torturing myself for hurting Matthew no matter how he says he forgives me.
My lungs ache, burning in the familiar way they do when I go for a long run on a chilly morning. Less familiar is the lancing pain of over-exertion between my ribs. Wonder creeps into my mind about what Amala said, and I shove it away. The pain is mine: I’m stressed and worn out, and it’s taking a toll on my body.
“They have to be okay,” I whisper finally. It’s futile to hope, like a prayer that won’t do anything but make me feel better about myself in a shallow kind of way.
Without looking at me, Jasper puts his hand out between us. It’s an offer of silent support, and I hate how much I need it. I take his hand in mine.
His hands are sweaty from nerves, and the clammy feeling isn’t worth the steady reminder that we’re both here. Not yet, at least. I pull my hand back and wipe it on my jeans before dropping both of my own hands on my lap.
When Jasper takes back his own hand, he rakes his fingernails across his palm as if scratching me off of him.
“What, am I gross?” I ask, lighthearted.
He could argue that I just wiped my hand off too, but he doesn’t. “It’s an old habit,” he explains instead. I’ve noticed a few odd quirks and habits of his, but I never ask.
I ask now, with nothing else to say, and to keep myself from falling into another panic. “Why do you do that?”
He tilts his head to rest against the back of the couch and sighs like it’s too broad a question to answer. “I have OCD,” he says finally.
“Is that why you’re in therapy?”
“It’s part of it.”
I wait for him to continue.
“I struggle with depression, too,” he says finally. “It was worse when I was younger. I get intrusive thoughts and stuff. I used to spend hours scratching and clawing at my skin to get rid of the feeling of someone touching me, even if they just brushed my shoulder. I don’t even know why; it just didn’t feel right.”
I don’t push for any more information but silently hope he’ll continue. In retrospect, his little behaviours become less annoying when he explains why. Plus, it’s a welcome distraction.
He goes on. “The worst has always been violent thoughts,” he says. His tone of voice tells me that they are indeed what’s haunted him the most. “I didn’t know why I would have thoughts pop into my head of hurting people, and it scared me because I didn’t want to. I thought I was just a bad person. I did everything I could to avoid it: I wouldn’t go near other kids some days to keep them out of arms reach. Even my sister when she was little. I was so afraid that the bad thoughts would take over and I would hurt her that I would stay far away from her sometimes. I flat out refused to be in the kitchen while my mom cooked because I was afraid if I touched a knife, I would do something bad with it.”
It all makes sense now, and rage flares through me when I remember Hallam toying with Jasper the way he did. I thought it was bad enough that he tried to blame all of my hurt on Jasper and played with Jasper’s conscience. Knowing how much distress it has caused him since childhood is devastating.
“My mom took me to see a doctor when I started thinking I would be better off dead,” Jasper finishes.
“I’m glad she did,” I say, and I hope it’s enough to convey everything I mean. I’m not good at laying it all out, especially when Jasper and I are still just getting to know each other. I want him to know that I’m sorry if I ever made him feel worse. I want him to know that no matter what Hallam tried to get me to believe, I don’t blame Jasper one bit for the pain I endured. I want him to know that I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t been there with me when Hallam took us. I want him to know that I’m glad he’s alive.
“You know,” he says, “I know you’re opposed to talking to someone, but it might help. At least once. This kind of stuff is more likely because it’s in the family.”
“Is it?” I ask, not addressing the part where he told me to get therapy. Again.
He shrugs. “My mom’s side of the family doesn’t have any mental health issues. Not really. If it’s from anyone, it’s him.” Neither of us needs to refer to Hallam in any more specificity. ‘Him’ is all we need, with disdain dripping from our voices. “Just think about it. If you ever feel like you need help, get it. From anyone.”
“Fine.”
Chapter Twelve
I
Matthew
I don’t feel the ache in my legs when I run further and faster than I have before. I don’t feel the cold air burn my lungs. I don’t feel the familiar stabbing pain that I get in the center of my chest every time I push myself too hard in a sprint. It feels like a superpower. I hate that Cal might be feeling everything for me, but for now, I think it might be enough to help me get to her.
Then someone calls my name.
I stop running, nearly slipping on a sheet of snow-covered ice. I brace myself on a branch but don’t feel the cold bark tear into my palms.
“Matthew,” the voice calls again. Lou. She’s close.
I listen, straining my ears to hear where she’s coming from. Lou barrels into sight. She runs right into me, grasping onto me in an embrace, and I have to step back to keep us both from falling over.
Her breathing is ragged above my head, and I can hear her heartbeat pounding beneath my ear where she has me pulled up against her chest.
Lou is shaking when she finally releases me, holding me at arm’s length. She’s breathing too fast, and I’m worried that exertion is dangerously close to becoming hyperventilation. “We need to go,” she breathes.
