Lowe’s jaw tenses. “This, Misery, is where I’m taking a leap of faith.”
My heart goes wooden. A memory flashes: my first day alone among the Humans, after Father and Vania and the rest of the Vampyre convoy had left. The terrifying smell of their blood, their odd sounds, the weird beings crowding around me. Knowing I was the only member of my species for miles and miles. I don’t want it for her. I don’t want it for anyone. “Is Ana Human? A Collateral?”
He shakes his head. I’m flooded with relief. “Okay. She’s Were. Then why—” I stop.
Because Lowe shakes his head again.
I know what Vampyres smell like, what their needs and limitations are. And Ana is not one of us. Which leaves one single other possibility.
“No,” I say.
Lowe says nothing. His knife clinks against the side of the plate, and he crosses his arms on his chest. His expression remains anchored in a way that makes me utterly unhinged.
“It’s not possible. They . . . No. Not both.” Why is he silent? Why is he not correcting me? “Genetically, it’s not . . . Is it?”
“Apparently.”
“How?” There are so many levels of impossibility here. That a Human and a Were would even want to engage in what’s necessary to produce a child. That it would work, physically. That it would have consequences. Weres may not struggle as much as Vampyres, but their reproductive rates are still lower than Humans’.
I shoot to my feet in a spurt of nervous, incredulous energy. Immediately sit down again when my abused soles protest. “But she’s related to you, isn’t she? The eyes . . .”
“My mother’s eyes.” He nods. “She was one of Roscoe’s seconds. Overseeing the woods between Were and Human territories. Officially, under Roscoe’s rule there were no diplomatic relationships. In practice, very limited agreements with Humans were constantly being negotiated, especially in high-conflict areas. I believe that’s how she first met Ana’s father, but I wasn’t around at the time.” He sounds regretful, and I remember the pretty house drawings. The only locked space in his room.
“He’s not your father, is he?”
“My father was a Were, and he died when I was a child.”
I’m not going to ask if my people were involved in that, because I’m sure I know the answer. “Why are you telling me this?”
He is silent for a while, eyes downcast. It’s not until I follow his gaze that I realize he’s staring at our wedding band on his ring finger. “You know what makes Alphas good leaders?” he asks without looking up.
“No clue.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Neither do I. But at times, there are decisions that feel right, deep in the marrow of my bones.” He wets his lips. “You are one of them.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, hot. There’s no way Lowe misses it, which is mortifying. I’m just grateful that he chooses to continue without mentioning it.
“I was living in Europe when my mother was injured, but immediately flew back. When it became obvious that she might not make a recovery, she told me about Ana’s biological father.”
“Her Human biological father.” Inconceivable.
“I thought she was delirious because of the drugs. Or just mistaken.”
I tilt my head. “What changed?”
“There are things about Ana. Things that had me taking what my mother said as more than some morphine-induced delusion.”
“Like what?”
“For one, Ana doesn’t shift.”
“Oh. Should she, already?”
“A Were child would. In fact, during the full moon, they’d have trouble not shifting. Her blood is a deep red instead of green. At the same time, she has Were traits. She’s more agile, stronger than a Human. Her vitals are all over the place. After my mother passed, and very discreetly, I had her DNA tested. Juno is a geneticist, and she was able to help.” He picks up the knife again, slathers more jelly. The peanut butter jar is still there. Open. “At the time, Roscoe was the Alpha; it was easy to predict what he’d do if he found out that he had a half Human in his pack.”
“Roscoe was not a fan, huh?”
He gives me an understatement-of-the-decade look.
“And, she was the sister of the dude who smelled like he was gonna steal his job,” I murmur without thinking. I notice Lowe’s surprise. “What? I know things.”
“Roscoe was never a peaceful Alpha, but in the past few years, his positions gradually escalated to extreme aggression. He demanded control of certain demilitarized zones, and began enforcing zero-tolerance policies. We killed more Humans and Vampyres in the last decade than we did in the previous five—and they killed more of us. That’s when several of his seconds began to openly disagree with him. Their dissent was met with another ramp-up of violence. This time last year, more Weres were dying at the hands of other Weres than any other species. My mother was one of them.” His lips press together. “I came home, challenged Roscoe, and won. His four most loyal seconds challenged me, and I won again. There were others, weaker and weaker, and it felt so wasteful to . . .” He rubs his jaw with his palm. His thinking gesture, I’m starting to realize. “It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have let them live.”
I study him, wondering if he ever wanted to be Alpha in the first place. Wondering how I’d feel, leading thousands of people without feeling a true calling to it. At least Father thrives on the high-stakes life of politics, and subterfuge, and petty pissing matches against the other councilmen.
“Let me guess: the ones you defeated but left alive rebranded themselves as the Loyals and have been radicalizing young Maxes like it’s their birthday.”
He nods. “It’s a small group, but they’re willing to stoop much lower than I can afford to. And they have the blessing and leadership of Emery, Roscoe’s mate. She denies it, of course, and she’s a smart-enough player to avoid having the recent attacks traced back to her, but we have intel.”
“If it were me, I’d borrow a page from their beloved Roscoe and deal with dissent his way.”
His mouth curves infinitesimally, like he’s tempted to do just that, and I smile, too. Our eyes hold for a beat before he continues: “Ana doesn’t know who her real father is.”
“Who does she think . . . ?”
“Vincent. He was another of Roscoe’s seconds, and he and my mother were in an on-and-off relationship for years. He was attacked in Vampyre territory, when Ana was about one year old. The rest of the pack are also under the impression, heavily encouraged by my mother, that Ana is Vincent’s kid.”
“How are you explaining away the not shifting bit?”
“It’s not widely known, and there are other conditions that could cause it, including a psychological block. They are rare, but . . .”
“Not as rare as a half-Human Were. Who else knows?”
“Juno and Cal, because we grew up together and they’re family. Mick, too. He was one of Roscoe’s seconds, the only person my mother could rely on when I was gone. Aside from that, my mother told no one. But I’m starting to question that. I can only imagine Serena being interested in Ana . . .”
“. . . because she’s half Human. And if Serena knows . . .”
“. . . there’s no telling who else does,” he finishes.
I drum my fingers on the table, thinking this through. “Max didn’t say anything useful about the Loyals?”
“He doesn’t know much, aside from the names of a few low-level members. The Loyals recruited him because he has ties to some of my seconds and easy access to Ana, but they didn’t trust him enough to reveal anything. He didn’t know who he was going to hand Ana to.”
“Do you think the Loyals know about Ana?”
A thoughtful pause. “It’s a possibility. But it’s more likely that they’re using my only living relative to force me to listen to their demands. They know I’m the rightful Alpha, and that no one could take me in the challenge.” He sounds more resigned than proud. “It’s not a well-thought-out plan on their part, but they are desperate. And damn annoying.” He massages the bridge of his nose.