Dire Wants (21 page)

Chapter 32

S
tray needed to meet with Kill alone first. Since the Dire relationships were tense within the pack even as plans came together, Stray would put things as right as they could be between himself and his brother before inviting the rest of the clan in.

He needed to do his part to keep his family together. He would get what was necessary from his brother and then he would force Killian to leave town, no matter what that took. Oh, and hope that working together wouldn’t trigger an apocalyptic type of prophecy, as Vice had so kindly reminded him of moments earlier.

With a last look behind him, to where Rifter, Vice and Gwen sat around the kitchen table with Liam, he opened the door to the room in the basement Killian stayed in. He pushed the guilt aside that his brother was down there all alone, because it was by the wolf’s own choice.

“He asked to stay alone in the dark—said it was like his hibernation period,” Vice told him.

Even so, the area where Killian resided was a mini-apartment, complete with kitchenette, plasma TV and plenty of entertainment to keep anyone happy.

He knocked once and then went in, because Killian would be waiting for him.

“Brother.” Kill stood in the middle of the room, his arms open with a drink in one hand, the bottle in the other, his voice mocking.

“Put the drink away,” Stray told him in lieu of a greeting. “We have a job to do.”

Kill smirked, but he shelved the bottle behind him, threw the remains of his drink down the drain before placing the glass on the table that separated them. “Peace, Stray. That’s all I want.”

“Bullshit.”

Kill kicked the chair out to sit, did so with his arms folded on the table. “You didn’t tell your new Dire family about us? Our family? I’m so hurt.”

“You have no right to talk about my past.”

“Our past,” Killian reminded him.

“Let’s just stick to talking plans, all right? We need to use our abilities together to program as many human weretrappers as we can to get out of the business of trapping and killing wolves.”

“Consider it done.”

“And that’s it, Killian. That’s all you’re putting in their minds. Just that they need to leave the weretrappers, leave the wolves alone and go on with their lives.”

“Forever?” Kill asked. “Because alone, I can plant new thoughts. Working with you, it’s different.”

“You told me you needed me to make sure the thoughts you planted worked.”

“Yes, that’s what I told you—and that’s true. But when we work in tandem, I don’t just plant thoughts. I can erase memories and create new ones. It goes beyond the power of suggestion—takes it to a whole new level.”

“And you never told me?” Stray demanded, and Kill shrugged.

“Somehow, I didn’t think you’d take it well. Besides, it was more dangerous for you to know. I didn’t trust your new family not to use you.”

“And now?”

“Now you asked, so I told you.”

“How can I tell if something is a permanent memory?” Stray asked.

“You’ll listen to the difference. You’ll have to help me, because it’s a delicate procedure, and delicate and I don’t exactly mix.” Killian smiled wryly and Stray’s gut churned. “You know, these abilities are inside of us for a reason.”

“To help. And to destroy,” Stray muttered without thinking.

“You still believe in that prophecy?”

“You know you do too. I called you because the great war is starting.”

“Steele—”

“Don’t call me that,” Stray growled. “Ever.”

Killian held his hands up in mock surrender. “Got it,
Stray.
So, great war. We help and then . . . we destroy?”

“We help and then separate again so we don’t have to destroy.”

“You stay with your new family and I slink back into the night, is that it?” Killian rubbed his hands together.

If Stray closed his eyes, he could see Kill’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife. “You could try to kill me again, but it didn’t go so well the first time. Maybe you could turn the knife on yourself instead.”

Killian stood so quickly the chair he’d been sitting in flew back, hit the wall and toppled with a loud crash. Stray braced himself, but his brother remained in place, his only movement to unbutton his shirt.

When Kill pulled the fabric apart to expose his chest, Stray saw the same knotted scar he had.

When his eyes met his brother’s again, the understanding—and the explanation—he’d always wanted to see was there.

Turns out, it hadn’t come too late after all.

* * *

Killian spent forever rehearsing for this moment and he still hadn’t known how to tell his brother what he’d wanted to say for fifty years. Turned out, showing him had been simpler.

Kill hadn’t told him anything earlier about the mixing of the abilities or the scars because what would it change? They had great power together—yes. And he’d sliced the knife through his younger brother with the intention of killing him. There was nothing he could say that would change that, or the fact that he’d left Stray to rot in that damned cage his parents kept him in.

He’d been only twelve when he’d first visited the newly born infant, named Steele at birth, howling in the bassinet outside the damned house. Even then, his parents couldn’t show his brother any kindness or consideration.

“He’ll get used to it,” his father said.

Killian and the rest of the Greenland pack trained hard in the warrior ways, hardened from an early age to fight, not feel. But what they were doing to his brother, well, that was something altogether different.

His parents were scared shitless of a baby.

There had been talk of killing Steele—or secreting him away because of fear of the prophecy.

Killian had also heard the discussion among the pack before the baby had been born that their mother had done everything in her power to rid herself of the baby. The fact that nothing had worked made them even more fearful. They gave Steele only the most basic of necessities to not let him die and anger the Elders.

Kill made sure that Stray reached an age where he could fend for himself before he took off, figuring they wouldn’t dare try to harm him.

He’d been so very wrong. And when he’d come across his brother, trying to die and unable to, his blood had boiled. Actually, his body had begun to tingle days earlier, alerting him to Steele’s impending birthday, as if he could’ve ever forgotten it. He’d traveled back from Alaska to find him, and when he’d tracked Steele, his heart broke for both of them.

Goddamned fucking prophecy. Leave it to the Elders to be purposely obtuse. Help or no help, he and his brother were here to stay, and the world would just have to deal with them in kind.

To see Steele being mauled . . . well, he couldn’t sit and watch. No, because then he’d have to wait and see if an immortal Dire could regenerate.

But even as the polar bears tried to rip and bite off Steele’s limbs, they wouldn’t give, not the way they would’ve if he’d been born regular Dire.

Rather than letting Steele remain under their torture, Kill figured he could put an end to everything.

He wasn’t sure if Steele knew that he’d also run the knife through his own heart, fell to the snow and suffered there for several hours until his wound healed.

Steele had been unconscious, but he’d healed too. Killian had cut him down and carried him out of the danger, away from the pack who’d held him hostage for twenty-one years. He would never send his brother back there.

But when his younger brother woke, he was definitely going to be pissed.

“I know why you changed your name, but you were never a stray to me,” Killian told him now, felt a jolt of emotion he hadn’t been sure he was capable of anymore.

“I can’t believe . . . you never told me.” Stray’s eyes were full of an emotion Killian had never seen directed at him before—kindness.

“Does it change what I did?”

“It puts it in perspective.” He moved forward, touched his brother’s chest. “You have two scars here.”

He looked Stray in the eye. “I tried to kill myself before I came to you. When it didn’t take, I thought . . .”

“Maybe if we were together . . .”

“Seems we’re entangled for life, brother, no matter how much you hate it.”

“And you stayed away then . . . just like you’ve been staying away for the past fifty years.” Stray grabbed his brother’s shoulder and pulled him closer. Killian wanted to resist, didn’t want to get used to this touchy-feely shit because soon it would be over. Stray would realize they couldn’t stay together as a family and he’d be alone again.

Not knowing what he’d been missing made everything a lot easier. But still, he allowed Stray to hug him.

Chapter 33

S
tray felt the initial resistance, but then Killian embraced him back willingly. When they pulled apart, Stray told his brother, “Let’s go talk to the others about the rest of the plans.”

Killian shrugged like it didn’t matter one way or the other, but Stray knew far better. The wolf followed him into the kitchen and the talking ceased.

It was only Rifter and Gwen now.

“Vice is going to check on Kate,” Rifter explained. “I thought it best to keep this small. Sit, please.” Rifter gestured to the seats across from them. “I’ll brief Vice, who’ll will fill Jinx in on our plans.”

“And the witch?” Killian asked.

“Kate,” Stray corrected him, and Killian nodded and repeated, “Kate.”

“I think it’s best she concentrate on her part in all of this, rather than muddy her mind with the entire plan,” Rifter said diplomatically, and Killian smiled.

“You don’t trust her either.”

“Ah, fuck, Killian—give it a rest, all right?” Stray took a slug from the water bottle Gwen pushed in front of him.

“No one’s going to talk about the fact that my brother’s bound to a witch?” Killian demanded, the protectiveness in his voice hard to miss.

“It’s something we can figure out later,” Rifter said. “Can we focus on the fact that Seb and the trappers are determined to take over the goddamned humans? The fallout in the supernatural world will be tremendous.”

“And where are the rest of them?” Killian demanded. “The packs? The vamps? Heads in the sand, I’m assuming.”

“I kind of like him,” Gwen said with a small smirk.

“Let’s talk about the Greenland pack.” Rifter covered Gwen’s hand with his, and he wasn’t the least bit upset with her. Obviously, their queen was learning to straddle the fine line of a mated alpha king’s unpredictable temper.

Now if she could just talk him into bringing Jinx back.

“They’re not like us,” Kill practically hissed. Stray heard the hatred behind his brother’s words, one he himself felt every time he thought about them. “They have a shelf life. No abilities.”
Fucking cowards.

Dial it back, Kill,
Stray told him.

“But they’re self-sustaining, procreating Dires, and they should be under my rule,” Rifter said steadily. Gwen couldn’t help but nod at the truth of his words.

“Rifter, I don’t think we can get the Greenland Dires on our side before the great war goes down. Let’s get through that and then you can deal with Greenland,” Gwen suggested, taking over a role usually filled by Vice.

Rifter bowed his head for a moment. Stray scented an imminent shift and then it passed. Rifter’s eyes were still changed, but his countenance was calm. “Agreed. But I want the exact coordinates of the pack. And everything you know about them. Everything. Start with how many are left.”

“Last I checked, still probably thirty Dires. Two alphas in charge of different packs, but they live in the same village for safety reasons,” Killian told them. “They live for at least several hundred years. Most of them die from hunters when they’re in wolf form. None have lived as long as you.”

“But they knew of us?”

“You’re legend,” Kill admitted without a trace of sarcasm. “I’m glad Steele—Stray—found you.”

“We found him,” Rifter corrected.

“And you took him on without question. Don’t be angry that he’s never spoken about me to your pack.”

“I understand why he didn’t. But if you and Stray work together, the prophecy is set in motion.”

“It already is.” Killian stared at Rifter. “We’ll fight the trappers and then I’ll leave.”

Stray hadn’t asked him to do that—had wanted to, but now everything had changed. Before he could protest, Gwen said, “You’ll be hunted.”

“I’ll manage,” Kill said.

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Gwen murmured.

“No one ever promised fair,” Killian told her. “I’ll live.

She looked so sad at Killian’s words. “There are so few of us. We should be together.”

“When’s the last time you saw your parents?” Rifter asked both of them.

“I haven’t seen them since the day you tried to kill us both,” Stray said to Kill, his voice steady as he looked between his brother and Rifter. He noticed the surprise in Rifter’s face, but there had been no rancor in Stray’s tone.

“I haven’t seen them in fifty years.” Kill rocked back in his chair and stared at Stray. “And I made sure you’ll never see them again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re dead.”

“How?” Stray demanded.

“Murdered in cold blood by another Dire. Turnabout’s fair play, I figure.” Kill looked as though he understood the seriousness of his words and the actions he’d taken. He didn’t look particularly proud or cocky, but there was no remorse either.

“Why?” Rifter asked. Killing one’s parents in the Dire community meant a sentence of death. The execution was traditionally a beheading.

Kill seemed completely unconcerned. “They tried to kill my brother, so I killed them for that transgression.”

Stray didn’t doubt he was telling the truth. Kill might be dark, but he didn’t lie.

Rifter stood, the chair falling behind him, a hand pulling down the neck of his shift to reveal the tribal wolf on his chest.

Killian looked up at him and nodded in silent confirmation to whatever Rifter was attempting to ask. Stray was as confused as Gwen until Rifter said tightly, “Killian’s a skinwalker now. A powerful one at that. A consequence of killing one’s parents.”

The implications of that were phenomenal. Beyond the powers that he and Stray had together . . . Stray couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Didn’t want to. “This should never have happened.”

Kill stared at him, his expression momentarily softening. “It had to, Stray. They’d never have left you alone otherwise.”

“They came looking for me?” Stray asked.

“While you were recovering, they tracked us. Dad and some of the other pack alphas. Mom too. You were still in and out of consciousness. You’d healed and then you shifted twice in the space of an hour.”

Stray remembered part of that—the total and complete confusion, the pain . . . Brother Wolf attempting to comfort him and failing miserably for those first days.

Extenuating circumstances,
Brother pointed out with a haughty sniff.

“They broke into my hiding place when you were still recovering from everything—the mauling, the knife, your first shifts. I killed the lot of them before they laid a hand on you again. And then I left their bodies for the bears.” Kill’s voice was tight again, and Stray finally understood what Rifter had been saying all along—sometimes you have to cause a lot of damage to avoid hurting people.

“Holy hell, Killian—I’m worried about you,” Stray told him.

“You’re worried about me?” Kill sounded incredulous. “You’re the catalyst to our powers. Without you, my words wouldn’t take permanently. When you were born, it was all set in motion. You thought you needed me to help, Stray. Turns out you were wrong—you’ve been the necessary one all along.”

Stray’s throat tightened at the truth in his brother’s words. He looked down to catch his breath as Killian explained the jolt in powers that would happen now that they were together.

“And the skinwalker ability?” Rifter asked.

“It makes everything I do . . . stronger,” Kill said.

“That explains how you took out the possessed Weres,” Rifter said. “Thank you, Killian. For that. For saving your brother.”

Killian got up and went to the window, turning his back to them as the emotion grew heavy around them. And Stray knew then he’d always really been part of Killian’s heart.