Changeling (22 page)

Tom nodded in Lucien’s direction. ‘I’ll take care of Ron. I’ll make sure that he’s seen to and that the necessary arrangements are made.’

Lucien nodded, glancing down at the prone body. ‘Thank you, Tom. Make sure that any family that he had are well looked after, and that they get anything and everything they need.’ He
took his daughter’s arm and walked back towards the lift.

‘You still haven’t heard from Trey, have you?’ she asked as the lift doors slid open in front of them.

They stepped inside and Lucien pressed the button to take them back up to the penthouse apartment. The look on the vampire’s face matched the worried expression on his
daughter’s.

‘No. It’s been three days now, and despite the message from our friend Galroth to the contrary, I
am
worried about the lack of any contact. If Trey has not called by this
evening, I will send someone over to his uncle’s place to check that he is OK. Depending on the feedback, Tom will decide whether he should go over to Canada.’

He turned to look at her. She realized that there was something else troubling him.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Alexa, I too have to go away. Now that this unfortunate business is over, I need to leave you and Tom and Trey for a while.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Away.’ He held up his hand to stop her protests. ‘I have something that I need to do.’

‘But surely you need to wait and see that Philippa and Trey are both—’

Lucien reached out and gently took his daughter’s shoulders. ‘I cannot wait any longer, Alexa. There is something wrong with me. Something terribly wrong. If I don’t get help,
I believe that I might do things – horrible things that I swore I would never do again. And I may hurt the people that I love and care about. I have tried to fight it, but it’s no good
– it’s getting worse. If I can’t stop these . . . inclinations, I’ll become the thing that I most despise. I’ll become my brother again.’

The elevator announced its arrival at the apartment, but they stayed where they were, looking at each other.

‘I have left instructions for you all while I am away. Philippa will be fine. I would have heard if she were not.’

‘Where are you going?’

Lucien smiled a sad smile. ‘I’m going to find a friend of Trey’s. The battle-angel, Moriel.’

Jurgen and Luke left the house and walked out into the bright sunshine, shielding their eyes against the glare and staring up towards the ridge where the car had been
parked.

‘Marcus,’ Jurgen hissed through his teeth. He spun on his heels, looking about him wildly as if expecting to see someone or something pointing and laughing at his inability to
appreciate the joke. ‘I’ll kill him,’ he muttered under his breath. He stopped and noticed the path trodden through the grass off to the left of the house, the tall grassy spines
all bent and flattened in the same direction. ‘He went that way,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Marcus?’ Luke said.

The pack leader turned on the younger man, pressing his face to the other’s and glaring at him. ‘The boy! The Laporte boy. That’s the direction he took when he left the
house.’

‘Jurgen,’ Luke looked nervously back towards the house. ‘The old man . . .’

‘Let’s go,’ Jurgen said. Without another word, he loped off in the direction of the tracks.

He made his way down the slope, turning sideways to negotiate the gradient, grateful once again for the sturdy boots on his feet. It was treacherous going. The mud gave way underfoot, sending
mini landslides down the hill in front of him, and on more than one occasion Trey fell, throwing out an arm to stop himself from tumbling head first and helter-skelter down the steep incline. At
some point there must have been trees on the hill because here and there weathered old stumps poked their heads out of the ground, their gnarled roots providing yet another obstacle to avoid. By
the time he got to the bottom, Trey was completely out of breath. He stood with his hands on his thighs, hunched over, inhaling great lungfuls of air.

When he finally looked up, he was struck by the beauty of the place.

It was quiet by the lake. A few water birds made the odd honk or hoot in his direction, but there didn’t appear to be any people around. He looked over to the cabins on the shore to his
left – about sixteen in all – and realized that he had no idea which of them might be occupied. He was hoping to find Ella, to explain to her what had happened between him and his
uncle, and ask her to speak to Jurgen on his behalf. He couldn’t imagine any reason why the pack leader wouldn’t accept him into the group, but he was wary of the Alpha male – he
seemed . . . unstable, and Trey thought that Ella would be his best, and least complicated, way in.

The ground was level now, and he strode out towards the wooden houses. He slowed down as he approached the first cabin, calling out to anyone who might be inside, then knocked at the door. When
it was clear that nobody was at home, he walked around the building to take a look. A rotary clothes dryer had been set up behind the cabin three down from where he was standing – the floral
blouse and black leggings could only be Ella’s, and he walked behind the cabins towards it. He hadn’t gone more than seven or eight strides when a voice behind him stopped him in his
tracks.

‘What are you doing here?’

Trey turned to see the tall, ginger-haired youngster who had stood next to him during the Change in the forest earlier that morning. The boy was holding a shotgun, pointed in Trey’s
direction, and he immediately put his hands up. Ginger was terribly thin, his skin so pale that it almost blended in with the white T-shirt that he wore over his jeans. The sunlight was bothering
him and he squinted in Trey’s direction. There was something wrong with the kid’s mouth, as if his jaw had been put on crooked.

‘I asked you what you were doing here,’ the older boy repeated, tilting his head to one side and doing his best to look tough. He spoke in a mumble, and it was difficult to make out
the words.

Trey knew that the teenager was the pack Omega – the lowliest wolf in the group. Ella had introduced him, and Trey was wracking his brains to try and remember what the guy’s name
was.

‘I want to see Ella. I saw the washing on the dryer, and assumed that that was her cabin.’ Trey motioned with his head at the building behind him. ‘You’re
Lawrence,’ he said, pointing at the other boy. Despite being the one holding the gun, Lawrence took a step backwards. ‘It’s Lawrence, isn’t it?’

Ginger nodded his head, his face still screwed up against the sun.

‘Do you think you could point that thing somewhere else?’ Trey said.

The other boy looked down at the rifle before lowering it to point at the ground.

‘She’s not here. They’ve all gone out somewhere. I’m the only one left here at the moment.’ The boy looked over at Trey, tipping his head back and jutting out his
chin, which only made his jaw look even more grotesque. ‘That puts me in charge.’

Trey had to struggle to keep from smiling. He guessed that the Omega was enjoying this opportunity to assert some authority for a change. ‘I guess it does,’ he said.

Lawrence nodded and drew himself up to his full height. ‘She left with Marcus a short while ago. To be honest, it’s pretty rare for anyone to go out on the morning following a
Change. Something big must have come up.’

‘Something big?’Trey nodded. ‘But they didn’t take you along with them?’

‘Like I say, someone has to stay back here to take charge.’

‘Do you know when she might be back?’

Ginger shrugged his shoulders. ‘No idea.’

There was a silence then, the two simply looking at each other.

‘Well, is there anywhere that I could wait for her?’ Trey finally asked.

The cockiness that Lawrence had tried so hard to maintain seemed to simply drain out of him. He frowned and looked about him as though the answer to the question might be lurking somewhere in
the shadows cast by the wooden buildings. He looked over Trey’s shoulder towards Ella’s cabin, chewing at the inside of his cheek nervously.

‘I don’t—’

‘I could wait for her in her cabin, maybe? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’

Lawrence was already shaking his head, stuttering his protests as Trey continued. ‘She’s expecting me,’ he lied. ‘Both Jurgen and Ella are expecting me. But I could leave
if you want me to, and you could explain to both of the Alphas how you felt it was better to ask me to leave.’ He eyed the other boy, before adding, ‘I’m sure that Jurgen would
understand your decision. After all, you
are
in charge.’

The mere mention of the pack leader’s name was enough. Lawrence raised one hand, palm facing the younger man, as if stopping traffic.

‘Hey man, if you say they’re expecting you, they’re expecting you. It seems foolish for you to go and have to come back again, and I’m sure that it’ll be fine for
you to wait in Ella’s cabin.’ He nodded in Trey’s direction, and began to move off towards his own dwelling. ‘Don’t touch anything though,’ he said over his
shoulder. ‘Ella’s very particular about anyone touching her stuff.’

He was gone before Trey could reply.

The Range Rover’s tyres crunched to a halt, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Ella glanced at the house before turning her head to look at Marcus. He stared out of the
front windscreen, his eyes fixed on some invisible point in the distance.

‘Well,’ she said.

Marcus chewed at his lower lip. Apart from that, no other part of him moved.

‘We have to do this, Marcus.’ She opened her door and stepped out. For a terrible second she thought that he was going to drive off and leave her to sort this mess out by herself,
but after a moment he switched off the ignition and climbed out, closing the door behind him.

They crossed the weed-strewn path to the wooden porch, worry lines etching Ella’s face with each step she took. The front door was still open and she walked through it calling out.

‘Hello? Frank? Jurgen?’

She paused in the hallway, her vision temporarily made poor by the sudden transition from sunlight to the dimly lit interior. ‘Frank?’

The house was unnaturally quiet, and she’d taken no more than three steps when she saw the reason why. The tiny figure of Billy lay on his side, his body twisted at an impossible angle,
back legs and front legs at odds with each other. His salmon-pink tongue lolled from between his teeth, and his dead eye stared unseeingly at something on the ceiling above her.

She knelt beside the still figure of the animal, stroking at his coarse coat with the tips of her fingers. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she shook her head angrily. She turned her head and
glared up at Marcus, with a look of pure hatred.

Marcus held his hands up in front of him. ‘He was alive when I left,’ he said. But he couldn’t help feeling that the dog’s death
was
his fault – the animal
had rushed in through the front door as he’d opened it to leave.

Ella wanted to pick up the small dog, to carry him in her arms and place him in his favourite place on the settee, but she still had to find Frank.

She cocked her head at a sound from the kitchen, listening for it again. It was a small sound, little more than a sigh, a whisper. When it came again she stood, hurrying towards the kitchen door
and pushing it open.

‘Jurgen? Frank?’

A scene of horror greeted her. Blood spatters, with long crimson tendrils that reached towards the floor, adorned the walls and the doors of the kitchen cupboards in front of her. In the centre
of the room, having somehow dragged himself there, lay Frank; the bloody wash behind him describing the arduous journey that he had made to get that far.

She rushed over to him, kneeling down next to him, not knowing what to say or do. She shook her head, blinking her eyes in disbelief at the sight before her. With shaking fingers she smoothed
back a strand of grey hair that was plastered to a face that she hardly recognized, its features horribly bloated and covered with dried blood. She moved her fingers to his neck, not sure how to
take a pulse there, but hoping to find one nonetheless.

‘Oh, Frank, what have they done to you?’

A tiny rattling sound came from the old man’s voice, and she stopped, staring down at the bloody mess, unsure if she had actually heard it or not.

‘Bleeegh.’A word this time. Nonsensical, but a word.

She looked up at the sound of the tap being turned on, and saw Marcus running a cloth under the cold water. He hurried over with it, handing it to her so that she could mop the old man’s
head. ‘Thank you, Marcus,’ she said, and as gently as possible washed away some of the blood and gore from the old man’s face.

‘Beeleeegh,’ he said again. And he tried to turn his head away as if looking for something with his sightless eyes.

She knew what he was trying to say, and who the blind man was asking for.

She shook her head and blinked away the tears that blurred her vision. ‘He’s dead,’ she said. ‘Billy’s dead.’

A whimper came from between the split and ruined lips, and tears welled up in the old man’s eyes. Ella fetched a glass of water, crouched down and held Frank’s head so that he could
take a sip. He shook his head, but she held the glass there insistently until he managed to take some.

‘I heard him,’ Frank managed to say now that his mouth had been cleared a little. ‘He was trying to get at them from the other side of that door.’ Still struggling to
shape his lips around the words, he shook his head again. ‘Why did they have to hurt Billy?’

The old man lifted an arm, clawing at the air in front of Ella.

‘Stay still, Frank. You’re badly hurt and you need to—’

‘Get me up,’ the old man said as best he could.

She looked down at him again, the hand still reaching out for her. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Wait a moment,’ she whispered. She nodded at Marcus to fetch one of the wooden
chairs. She placed it beside Frank, shaking her head at the stupidity of what she was doing and knowing that she should be seeking professional medical help for him right now. She gently took hold
of the arm still held out towards her, Marcus moving round the other side and slipping his hands beneath both the old man’s arms. They hoisted him up as gently as they could, off the floor
and into the chair.