“Comfortable.” She let out a bitter little laugh, and he instantly regretted opening his big fat mouth. Still, she wasn’t screaming and struggling. It was looking up. “Yeah. So what other problems are there?”
“Well, you need a crash course in being a shaman.” And I need a couple days to show you I’m not so bad. “We’ll help you all the way, of course. And then we can find out who wants you dead so bad. Deal?”
The bus stop was a Plexiglas-and-metal cube, its benches littered with trash. Sophie sighed heavily, and hitched her purse up on her shoulder instead of clutching it to her chest. “All right.” The words were almost lost under the sound of traffic, and Zach wished for a better van and a few thousands’ worth of traveling money, to take her and his Family away from all this. “Deal.”
He relaxed a little bit, smiled down at the top of her head. “Okay. Are you still seeing those faces?”
She gave a guilty little flinch. “I—yes. They’re not as clear right now, though.”
“Yup. First lesson: you’ve got to take care of yourself. When you have enough sleep and food in you, you’re going to be able to control seeing the majir better. You’ve been triggered, which means you’ve changed. You’re not going to Change like we do, but you’re kind of halfway between us and the spirits—you can do a lot of things we can’t. Make sense?”
“No.” A humorless little laugh. “But I understand. I’m not stupid.”
I know that. “So I’m going to be asking you how you feel, a lot. You might even get sick of that question, but I’m the alpha and it’s my responsibility to take care of you so you can take care of talking to the spirits for us.”
“Alpha?” She sounded curious, thank God, instead of angry or upset. Or that colorless little tone that somehow hurt him, the one that sounded like she’d given up.
“Yeah. That means I’m responsible.” I’m all that’s left. “The only other choice is Eric and he won’t take it. So it’s up to me.”
“And it’s up to me to talk to the spirits. What if I don’t want to?”
He worked this around in his head for a few moments, trying to see things her way. “It’s the majir. Why wouldn’t you want to?”
“Maybe I want to be normal.”
Jesus Christ, honey, who would want that? “You mean like a bleeder? A nine-to-fiver, one of those sheep? What the hell for?”
She withdrew. It was an almost-physical movement; he could literally see her pulling away, into herself. Walls going up, doors slamming, the essential Sophie retreating behind a blank screen. She gave him a mistrustful glance, her eyes darkening and that cute little mouth turning into a thin line before drawing down, and she looked away.
But she didn’t demur when he kept his arm around her.
The right bus—the 48—came lumbering along, and he cursed his big mouth again. She didn’t say a word after that, no matter how much he tried to engage her in conversation. He ended up just giving her random bits of information, nothing very useful, watching other passengers around them as the bus ground on and on toward his Family and the mist thickened into an actual rain. The temperature was dropping fast, and he had never wished so hard for a brick wall to beat his head against.
Screwed up again, he kept thinking. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t run again too, you idiot. How could you be so stupid?
Chapter 17
It was a Doze Inn, in a section of town Sophie had never dared to enter before—south of downtown, just on the edge of the core of housing projects that were always in the news. The concrete building slumped, tired and dispirited, under a gray sky, and the room had two beds, a kitchenette, and the hopeless smell of burned food and desperation.
“It was a productive morning,” Eric said, with a meaningful glance in Sophie’s direction. “We went channel-surfing.”
“Good.” Zach shrugged out of his wet coat. It had started to pour again, as if the sky wanted to wash the city clean. “See any other Tribe since we split up?”
“Not yet.” Eric looked like he wanted to say something else.
Sophie pushed past him, heading for the bed that wasn’t piled with a mound of clothes. Her feet were killing her, and she was soaked clear through. Her purse was heavier than she could ever remember it being; her shoes were full of water and, she was sure, half a street’s worth of gravel. She sank down, shivering, and kicked the heels off. Immediately her groaning feet felt wrinkled and slightly soiled from the cheap carpet.
“Holy shit,” someone said in the kitchen, and the girl—Julia—appeared, holding a steaming, industrial-white china mug. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” Zach relaxed, his shoulders dropping and a grin flashing across his dark-stubbled face. He filled up the room, and a wave of relief spilled through the air. It smelled like warm cookies, and Sophie found her own shoulders loosening, tension sliding out of her. She sighed.
What is that? She had to examine the feeling before she figured out it was safety, again, that weird sense that things were going to be all right. Julia shoved the mug into her hands, and Sophie found it contained blessed, fragrant coffee.
“You brought her back.” Brun sat in front of the room’s puny little television, cross-legged on the floor, a large piece of leather across his lap. A shy smile lit his young face. “Hello, shaman.”
Sophie blew across the top of the coffee. She felt a little faint. Her lower back was cramping up, waves of pain tightening the muscles.
“I figured out your sizes and got you some clothes. Oh, and you can use my shampoo.” Julia’s dark eyes were wide and pleading. She looked a lot younger than she had, and the way she hunched down, glancing at Sophie only peripherally, was a little…troubling. The pale streak in her hair almost trembled as she hunched, easily, as if it was perfectly normal to crouch at someone’s feet.
“Thanks.” Sophie wrapped her aching hands around the mug, welcome heat soaking into her bones. Her hair dripped. “You wouldn’t happen to have a towel handy, would you?”
“I’ll get it!” Brun bolted to his feet and leaped for the bathroom. Julia collided with him halfway there, and they crashed into the door. Sophie flinched, and Eric swept the room door shut and rolled his eyes.
“They’ve been like this the whole time. Goddamn pups.”
“They’re young.” Zach actually grinned for a moment, but quickly sobered. “Any oddness around?”
“Not that I can smell. I’ve kept us in here all rutting day. Bored out of our minds, but we caught the soaps. Brenda finally ditched that SOB.” Eric shrugged, his leather jacket creaking.
“No shit?” Zach’s smile came back briefly. “Because he slept with Susan?”
“No, she doesn’t know that yet. It’s because she’s carrying that other guy’s baby. Or she thinks she is, because someone switched the pregnancy tests. I think it was her roommate—the blonde girl.”
“Huh.” Zach scratched his cheek, ran his hand back through his dripping hair. Water darkened the pale streak, slicked it back from his strong-boned face. “Wow. No kidding.”
They watch soap operas? For a moment, Sophie had the exquisitely weird sensation of being in a world where normal rules didn’t apply. I can’t even afford a television. And here I am with a bunch of striped, soap-opera-watching werewolves. Jeez.
A swell of laughter hit right under her stomach, rose to her lips with a burp. She took a scalding gulp of coffee, and Brun leaped out of the bathroom, bounding up to the bed with two quick strides. He presented her with a towel as Julia burst out of the bathroom, as well, her face a thundercloud and her entire body rippling.