Deceived By the Others

chapter 23



The cab stopped outside, bleating an impatient honk. I left a twenty on the table and gathered my things. The waitress waved her cigarette after me, smoke wafting from the cherry tip as she bid me good-bye.

The bags felt heavier, my reactions too slow. It took more effort than I cared to think about to drag my things out and approach the cab that would take me home. I’d have Sara pick me up in my car on the way into the office tomorrow instead of having the cab drop me off at her place where I’d left it. The thought of possibly running into her while I looked and felt like this was too much to bear. I needed to get my wits around a plan of action for the infection before I could handle talking to her or anyone else about it.

The cab driver got out of his car when he saw me struggling with the bags. It wasn’t until he slid his hand over mine, pulling the heavier suitcase out of my grip, that I looked up and took notice of him.

He was eyeing me speculatively, slicked back hair showing a bad dye job with a few whitish roots that left his features unmistakable. His rounded, stubbly jaw and thickly muscled arms matted with enough hair to do a bear proud gave me a start. He grinned at me, though the expression was tempered with some concern.

“Fancy seeing you again,” he said.

“You, too,” I said once I swallowed back my surprise. How did this guy always manage to find me when I was on the verge of a breakdown? “You have the most fortuitous timing of any cab driver I’ve ever met.”

He barked laughter at that, literally. The guy was a werewolf. A member of the Moonwalker pack, the largest one in New York, if not the whole country. They were “friendly rivals” of the Sunstrikers, and fiercely proud of themselves for being the ones responsible for making Others an accepted part of society. Mostly accepted, anyway.

“Economy being what it is, I can’t offer a free ride this time. But I will lend an ear. Looks like you could use it.”

His words dredged a smile from somewhere, and he returned my weak show of relief in kind before hefting up my suitcase and tossing it in the trunk. As I settled into the backseat, the scent of old fast food and musk swept over me. Familiar, but not as unpleasant as I remembered and expected. He pulled into traffic after I gave him the address and a few directions.

“So, you want to talk?” he asked.

I hesitated. My vision blurred with tears when my gaze settled on the sticker of the Moonwalker pack symbol plastered on the divider between the front and the backseats. If anyone would understand my most pressing problems, it would be my chauffeur-cum-therapist. Talking to this familiar stranger about what was wrong might very well lead to a solution to all of the problems whirring in my head. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would be able to offer the unbiased insights or tempered sympathy this man could. And there was no chance of him subconsciously shrinking away from me as I feared Sara or my parents might once I told them what had happened.

“I … I’m not sure if you can help me …” I trailed off, unable to say it aloud.

“Can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong, sweetheart. You reek of Were, though it’s not from my pack. Have something to do with that?”

I choked back the urge to sob, clenching my fists in my lap. He waited for me to get a grip on myself, flicking glances at me in the rearview every now and then.

“You might say that,” I finally whispered, rubbing the moisture from my eyes with the back of my hand. “I might be like you next month.”

“Like me?” He didn’t get it immediately. Though, once the realization dawned, his eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, I see. Well.”

He didn’t speak again for a bit. I put my hand over my eyes, unable to stop the tears and unwilling to let him see them cutting a path down my cheeks.

“I take it by your reaction this isn’t something you wanted.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to let some careless, caustic comment fall out of my mouth.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing. You survived. Even if you are one of us now, you’re not dead or badly injured. I’m sure whichever pack is responsible for it will take you on—”

“I don’t want to be a Sunstriker!” I cried, slamming a fist against the Plexiglas hard enough to make it rattle. “That’s just it. I’m not contracted to anyone in the pack, and I never will be! Even if I was, and even if I do turn into—” I couldn’t say it. Saying it aloud might make it real. “… I don’t want to be one of them. Not after what they did.”

“All right, I believe you. Don’t get yer knickers in a knot. Are you saying you’d rather be a lone wolf?”

My head thumped against the seat as I leaned back, unable to believe the absurdity of this conversation. The worst part was that it was completely serious. What I said now might mean the difference between my being accepted into the Other society and being hunted down by anyone with a permit to exterminate rogues next month. I doubted this friendly cab driver would give my name over to any authorities—or worse, White Hats—but once his pack leader found out, I could be in a world of trouble. I hadn’t considered that when I first started talking, but now that the words had left my mouth there was no taking them back. He’d be obligated to tell Rohrik Donovan, leader of the Moonwalkers, that there might be a new wolf in town come the next full moon. For their own safety, they’d make an effort to draw me into their pack, just like the Sunstrikers had with Ethan.

Mouth dry, I croaked a few words, painful as they were to spit out. “No, that’s not what I want. I don’t know. I just don’t want to be one of them.”

His dark eyes reflected concern as he glanced at me through the rearview. I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, and soon looked away, scrubbing at the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. He pitched his voice low and soothing, and a sort of unwilling calm stole over me.

“Don’t worry just yet. I don’t blame you for being upset with the Sunstrikers if they’re behind this. Could be Mr. Donovan wouldn’t mind lending you a hand. The Moonwalkers owe you anyway; it shouldn’t be any trouble for us to take you in, if it comes to that.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. At a red light, he twisted around to look at me, frowning as I withdrew and covered my face with my hands, peeking out between my fingers.

“Calm down, I don’t bite,” he said, giving me a forced smile. “Look, after I drop you off, I’ll call Mr. Donovan and ask him to meet with you. Do you mind my giving him your address? He can help you.”

“Okay,” I whispered, not sure if it was. What would Rohrik Donovan be able to do for me? Hold my hand and tell me everything would be all right? That I had a place in his pack structure?

A violent shudder rippled down my spine, but the cab driver was no longer paying me any mind. His focus was now solely on the road and traffic before him.

“Wait—how did you know my name? And how did you know the Moonwalkers owe me a favor?” I asked, alarm driving me to scoot toward the door in case I needed to seek a quick escape. Rohrik Donovan was the one who’d told me as much, and if he was anything like Chaz, I couldn’t imagine him sharing that information with just anyone in his pack. Their pride wouldn’t stand for it.

He laughed. “Are you kidding? I’d be surprised if there was an Other in New York who couldn’t recognize you on sight. Most of the humans probably know you, too, considering all the times you’ve been in the news.”

I made a little choking sound in my throat, but he continued, ignoring it.

“Most of the dominant wolves in our pack know about Rohrik’s promise. We’re supposed to be keeping an eye on you and helping when we can. There wasn’t much we could do to interfere with the Sunstrikers’ keeping such close tabs on you. When you ran off into the park a few months ago, I arranged to run into you. This time? Pure coincidence, but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve got my orders.”

“Great. So you’re stalking me now?”

“Not at all. Consider us a safety net. We’re there to catch you if you fall. Like today.”

That shut me up. My fingers crept back to the cuts on my arm, rubbing at the healing wounds through my shirt. Would it be so bad, being one of the Moonwalkers? Aside from Rohrik Donovan’s being the one responsible for the Others coming out of hiding and announcing themselves to the world, I knew next to nothing about the Moonwalker pack. David Borowsky, the crazy sorcerer, had tried to use them to set himself up as the leader over all the Others in New York almost a year ago. Rohrik and I had fought; he walked away with a few bruises, and I got a stint in the hospital that lasted for months.

Oh, the Moonwalkers had made good on the promise to help me afterwards, but we hadn’t had much interaction. Aside from a personal visit from Rohrik to apologize for smashing my ribs into itty bits, I’d had very little contact with any of that pack since I got out of the hospital.

The Moonwalkers and Sunstrikers had never gotten along. This cab driver had once referred to the Sunstrikers as a bunch of good-for-nothing show-offs. Chaz had never had anything nice to say about the Moonwalkers either, though his comments were usually far more disparaging.

I glanced at the ID card plastered between the seats to get the cabbie’s name, something I’d neglected to do before. “Look, Mario, not that I’m not grateful for the help, but it’s pretty freaking creepy that you guys may or may not be shadowing me. Are you the only one, or are there others in your pack watching out for me?”

“Mark Roberts has been helping you,” he pointed out, making me blush at having forgotten the obvious connection—my accountant, the balding father of three, who had given me cut-rate deals on my corporate books and personal taxes ever since I saved the Moonwalkers. “He likes you, you know. Talks about you once in a while when the pack gets together. There are a few others, but I don’t think it’s my place to discuss this with you.”

I made a noncommittal sound in answer and turned my attention outward, staring out the window at the passing cars and buildings. It wouldn’t be much longer before we’d reach my tiny apartment in Terrace Heights. My lease was up in a few months. Recalling that also brought up memories of plans made over wine and candlelight to move into Chaz’s much bigger brownstone. The thoughts were jarring and painful, and I might very well have started crying again if I hadn’t been so exhausted by my ordeal. It was too soon to think about moving again, too soon to be making plans that didn’t involve a future with that lying son of a bitch.

My returning anger warmed me to my chilled core. I’d have to be very careful of my choices over the next few hours. I would meet with Rohrik Donovan and get a feel for what he was like and what his plans were for me. Since the supernatural grapevine would no doubt be buzzing with the news of my infection before long, as soon as my meeting with Rohrik was over I’d call Arnold and swear him to secrecy. I couldn’t risk his accidentally slipping the news to Sara or my parents. That would be followed by a call to Royce to see what, if anything, this might do to change or void our contract.

It was the first time I’d thought of the vampire in a while, other than as a tool to use to hurt Chaz. Royce was older than dirt, and had a streak of possessiveness. He might be tempted to do something to take revenge on the Sunstrikers.

Then again, if I was lucky, he might have come across a cure for lycanthropy in all the years he’d wandered the Earth.

Either way, I needed to talk to him. Somehow he’d known that something bad was going to happen on this trip. Even Jack had known. I needed to dig deeper and find their sources, and see if I could use them for my own ends. I wouldn’t ever let myself be hurt like this again.

“We’re here.”

I’d been so deeply engrossed in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that we’d arrived. I dug my house keys out of the bottom of my purse while Mario went to the trunk for my suitcase, pulling out a cell phone and dialing with his free hand as I led the way. I half-listened to his end of the conversation as he gave a brief account to Rohrik of what had happened and where to find me.

Once upstairs, Mario stopped at the doorway to my apartment, setting my bags down. He made me promise I’d open the door for Rohrik when he came, and not do anything “rash” (a kinder word for “stupid”) in the meantime. I settled before my computer with a cup of coffee as I contemplated what I would say to the Moonwalker pack leader when he arrived, and waited.