Sisters Red (27 page)

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brother, Silas's uncle. Surely I'm misunderstanding. I pull my hair away from his hand.

"Pa Reynolds," I say loudly, in a voice irritatingly similar to the receptionist's, "I think you're confused. Let's talk about something else. Why don't you tell me the story about Silas getting stuck in the tree again? You loved telling that story." I attempt a warm smile, but I'm not sure it works, because instead of smiling back, Pa Reynolds's eyes narrow. His face changes, falls, lifts, falls again. He pulls his hand away from mine and, with surprising speed, moves his wheel-chair so close that my knees touch the armrest.

"Scarlett. Little Scarlett March," he says softly. His face changes, crinkling up in a grandfatherly way. He presses his lips together and leans to one side to stare at my eye patch. "Oh, my child. My poor child. How are your wounds healing?"

"They're fine, Pa Reynolds. Long healed." At least he knows me now.

"Oh my... my darling. And it's all my fault..." He trails off.

"Of course not. You could never have gotten there in time," I say, cringing. Pa Reynolds had rarely talked about the attack after it happened, and to relive that time now, to hear this poor old man overcome with guilt... It's painful.

"But it is, of course it is." He shakes his head and rubs his temples with his fingers. When he looks back at me, his eyes are reddened, tears building in the corners. I sit up, scared.

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"No, Pa Reynolds, you tried to get there--"

"You, and baby Rosie, and... oh god, poor Leoni!" He calls Oma March by her first name, nearly sobbing. "We tried," he says. "We tried so hard; we were just a day late leaving that year. One day! One day and they wouldn't have come. That was the key--keep him moving, and they could never find him in time."

"They..." I swallow. This can't possibly mean what I think it means, can it? "Pa Reynolds? I need you to explain to me what you mean. Please."

Pa Reynolds shakes his head as if this is something obvious, something I should know, and then his eyes change again. "Oh, Celia. They can't find us at the coast. We'll take him there again, just like we did when he turned seven. We'll take all of them to the beach for the entire month. Jacob too, even... And we'll get the triplets home from school. All our babies."

"You mean... Silas."

"We'll take them there, stay for his birthday. Silas is too gentle to saddle with this sort of knowledge." He waves his hands dismissively at the window, then leans back as if peering inside another room. "Keep him moving. As long as he's moving, the wolves can't find him."

I inhale sharply. Of course. I'm so stupid--how did I not realize? I can muster only a whisper. "Jacob was your son. Silas is the seventh son of a seventh son, isn't he?"

"We thought he would be a girl, Celia! Like the triplets, another girl! The doctors said he would be, but they made a

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mistake. We can keep him safe, we can take everyone away on his seventh birthdays, we'll hide him till the moon phase is over... They'll never find him, love. Never."

"Then... that's why the Fenris came to Ellison, isn't it? Silas was turning fourteen when we were attacked. Silas was a Potential." I inhale and close my eye. "No. Silas
is
the Potential." The realization crashes over me like a wave, knocking the wind out of me. He just turned twenty-one. Even though his birthday was a while ago, this is the first full phase after it. My Silas--no, Rosie's Silas. He could be a Fenris. He could be the monster I fight next. He could lose his soul. He would have already, had we not been wandering from Ellison to here and then all over this city... Silas. It's him. He is the bait I've been looking for all this time.

My eye snaps open and I look back at the old man. "Pa Reynolds, does Silas know? Did you tell him?"

Pa Reynolds looks at me, all grandfather lines again. "Scarlett. Little Scarlett March. How are your wounds healing?"

"The Fenris, Pa Reynolds!" I say urgently. The beefy nurse rises and gives me a curious look. "Does Silas know he's a Potential?"

"How do you know about Silas..." The old man's face turns white.

"Does he know?" I nearly shout.

"No. No, he doesn't. No one but Celia and I... Oh, Scarlett. Look what we've done to you. And Leoni! Oh, Leoni, it's our fault. We were a day late; we stayed in Ellison an extra day

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to avoid the thunderstorm. Leoni, my friend..." Pa Reynolds puts his head in his hands and begins to weep, dry, ancient sobs that sound more like gasps for air than cries.

"Is there a problem, miss?" the nurse says as he takes long, powerful strides toward us.

"No. No," I say, leaping to my feet and stepping away from Pa Reynolds. "No, but I have to leave." I have to warn Silas; I have to tell Rosie. I turn and run from the hospital, wind screaming in my ears and heart racing.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rosie

This isn't working, is it?" Silas mumbles to me
, squeezing my hand. I jolt out of the daze I was in.

"What, us?" I say quickly, chest tightening in worry.

He smiles gently and runs his palm down my lower arm, letting it rest on my fingers. "No. Hunting without her."

I nod in agreement. We've been sitting outside the Attic for hours now, waiting, watching. But we haven't seen a Fenris. Haven't seen Scarlett. Without Scarlett there's no drive, no power behind our hunting. And truthfully, I'm not hunting for Fenris anyway; I'm hunting because I hope that we'll run into my sister. I keep thinking that we'll catch her lurking around the clubs, that I'll be able to throw my arms around her and plead for her not to be mad. And of course she'll

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listen, and we'll go back home and order kung pao chicken, and Silas and I will... be over?

Silas draws me closer and kisses my forehead, my nose, my lips, so tenderly that I could melt against him despite my worries. I nestle my head into the crook of his neck. I can't just let this be over, not when it feels so... right. I can't be just a hunter, nothing more. Not again.

"Maybe it's for the better that we haven't seen any wolves," Silas says, hopping off the wall we're sitting on. I jump down after him. "Now that the Arrow pack knows us and all..."

"No. Fenris move quicker than this. If they were going to set up a trap for us, they would've done it already," I answer as we interlace our fingers and begin to walk back to the apartment.

"You sound like your sister," Silas says, eyebrows raised. I smile. That's comforting, in a way.

The junkie swings open his door and glares at us as we ascend the stairs. I've noticed that no matter which of us is holding the key, we always pause for a moment before opening our door, as if we're giving Scarlett time to materialize in the apartment. But Screwtape is the only one behind it tonight, just like he was when we left. Silas gets into the shower while I climb into my bed, even though I know I'll eventually join him on the couch. I can't sleep alone anymore, and his breathing, his warm body, and his assurances that it will be okay are the only things that let me rest, that let me prepare for another morning without her.

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Silas is gone when I wake up. He's been slipping out in the mornings, trying to find my sister while the city crowds are still sparse. I stumble to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I consider making breakfast, but it's been so long since I went grocery shopping that we're out of everything but a can of spaghetti sauce. I suppose I should go to the store... I sigh, grab my cloak, and walk downstairs and out the building door.

I walk through the grocery store in a daze, knocking things from the shelves into my basket. Bread, eggs, pasta... I haven't been much in the mood to cook lately. Simple foods, easy to prepare. I check out without talking to the cashier, who gives me a rather cold look for my silence. She bags my groceries, smashing the bread beneath the carton of eggs, and I trudge out of the store. No rush. Not as though I have anywhere to be anyway, since Silas and I have all but given up on finding the Potential and we can't hunt.

I swing the bags of groceries absently on the way home, cloak fluttering at my heels. I cut through the park--maybe Scarlett's been here? My eyes wander across the wildflowers planted in neat patches. I sigh. Scarlett or Silas. Do I have to choose between them? Is the choice already made? I walk onto the grass, sidestepping a herd of runners on the path.

"Miss?" a male voice calls out. "Miss, you have to be careful."

I look up, realizing the voice is speaking in my direction.

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One of the runners has paused in front of me, his face shadowed by a baseball hat.

"What?" I ask.

The runner steps closer and I see traces of a grin on his darkened face. "You have to be careful not to step off the path, miss."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know," I answer, but as I do so, he reaches up and adjusts his hat. My breath catches as the sunlight illuminates a tattoo on his wrist. An arrow.

With a crown around it.

Everything happens quickly. The Alpha swipes out a hand, locking it around my wrist so hard that I think I feel the bone crack. I reach for my knives, but they aren't there--how could I have left them at home, as many times as Scarlett has reminded me to always wear them? Another hand grabs my free arm. I whip my head around and realize it's one of the runners. No, it's all of the runners. They surround me, their faces contorting in and out of ferocity, teeth extending to fangs then fading back to human teeth. Their eyes flash ocher, and the Alpha yanks my body against his. I flail to pull away, to get him off me, to stop touching me, but it's useless. There are so many, more than I've ever seen in one place before, and they laugh, howl, bark. I try to scream, but a hand that's half covered in fur clamps down on my mouth. The Alpha lifts me into the air like a doll and glares at me, hunger and hatred in his eyes.

Then someone yanks my cloak around my head, twisting it until I can scarcely breathe. I feel the hem rip and

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fall away, and my grocery bags plummet to the grass. The Alpha clutches me close to him, digging his claws into my skin. We're running--I can feel the wind against my body, whistling against my head--but all I can see is the blood red cloak encasing me. I struggle against the Alpha's grip, but he's strong--god, he's strong--and I can barely move.

I scream again, but I know the sound is lost in the speed we must be moving with. I hear the barks and snaps of the other wolves. I'm sure they're transformed, because every now and then one bites at my legs or waist, just enough teeth to break the top layer of my skin, not enough to seriously wound me. Still, the cuts sting and ache, and I snarl as I hear their joyous howls at my expense. The Alpha's breathing is guttural, almost sexual, and we've been running for what feels like ages. I just want to cry into this suffocating cloak. But I don't. I'm a hunter.
Please, let me be a hunter again
.

We slow. I listen intently, desperate for a clue about my location. We're someplace quiet, someplace almost totally void of the blaring city noises. The breathing of the pack is heavy, and I hear the crunching noise of several Fenris turning back to their human forms. It gets darker; the inside of the cloak looks black now. I struggle again and the Alpha laughs, then holds me tighter until I feel as if I may explode in claustrophobic panic.

Just as I'm certain he'll crush my ribs if he squeezes any harder, he drops me. I hit the ground, elbows crashing against rough cement. The wind is knocked from my lungs, but I clamber backward and yank the red fabric off my face.

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Not that it helps. Blackness. I'm in the complete dark.

Heavy breathing surrounds me. The scent of rotting garbage, spoiled milk. Fur brushes by my hand, my face, my legs, leaving my skin greasy and oily. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I realize that right in front of me is a sea of ocher eyes.

There are hundreds of wolves. Some are transformed, some are not, but all stare at me hungrily, wantonly. The Alpha Fenris stands right at the edge of my toes, so close I'm afraid I'll retch from the smell, leering down at me with the most lustful grin I have ever seen.

"Hello, sweetheart. I was afraid we wouldn't see you again," he hisses. The other Fenris laugh, one maniacal sound of howls and chuckles. I look around quickly, desperate for a way out that doesn't involve running directly through a pack of wolves. We're in what I think is a subway tunnel--there are rails a few yards from me--but the graffiti on the walls and the scattered blankets make me think it's abandoned.

A Fenris rushes at me from the back of the crowd. I tense, ready to lash out at him, expecting the whole pack to swarm me. How long can I possibly last if they all attack? A minute? Thirty seconds? The wolf leaps into the air, and I see nothing but his massive claws extending toward my face.

He's thrown away, hit hard in the side by the Alpha. The wolf flips in the air and skids across the floor, transforming back to a man and groaning. His side is bleeding, the wound sticky and dark.

"Not yet. Not anyone," the Alpha hisses. He reaches