Inked

I’d seen my mother return from night runs, panting and out of breath, her eyes glowing, her cheeks flushed, more alive than she ever was between four walls. And I’d never understood until now. She’d never shown me what she saw, what she experienced. Maybe because she’d known how cruel it would be when I realized I could never reach that place myself.

The part of me that was wolf was trapped by my disease. It lived crippled and caged inside a prison of a body that couldn’t flow, couldn’t reform, couldn’t let loose the magic of its other self. I’d never even seen my wolf, and I never would.

Until today, I’d been at peace with that.

“That foolish doctor,” Sebastian was saying. “Pitying us for our ‘primitive’ anatomy, when we are privy to an entire world he will never know!”

“You’re privy!” I gasped, so angry I could barely see. “You did that!”

“Yes, but I could not have formed a memory bond with a human. Carriers of Neuri are Weres, Lia,” he repeated. “They simply do not change.”

“Then they aren’t Weres!” He was the head of my clan and I owed him big-time. So I didn’t curse him into next week. But it was close. My whole life I’d struggled to be accepted, had battled against the tide of prejudice from both sides. I wasn’t human enough for the Corps, wasn’t Were enough for the Clan. And always, always, there was Neuri, that damned disease that wouldn’t let me truly be either. But at least I hadn’t fully understood what I was missing.

For the first time, I realized the truth of the phrase I’d said so many times: I really wasn’t Were. And God, how it hurt.

“Many of us have spent much of our lives in human form,” Sebastian said—calmly, damn him. “It does not invalidate what we are. It does not make us less Clan.”

“But if you choose to stay in human form, no one cares! They don’t try to kill you for being what you are!”

“Perhaps not. But I regularly run into difficulty with the leading clans for trying to work with the humans instead of isolating ourselves in our own little world—and thereby limiting our voice and our power. I choose not to let someone else dictate the decisions I make or how I define myself.”

“But that’s just it. You choose,” I said, furious that he couldn’t see that simple but so important difference. “The Corps hates me for having a Were mother; Lobizon hates me for not changing when that’s the one thing I’m physically unable to do! I never had a choice about any of it!”

“And if you had?”

“What?”

“Would you have preferred a different mother?”

“Of course not!”

“A different father then? One who was Clan, so you would never have had to face the uncertainty of Neuri?”

“When Lobizon sent the squad to change me by force,” I told him, fighting to keep my voice steady, “my father stood by me against a dozen Weres. Despite the fact that every single one of them was faster, stronger…”

I broke off because I was once again back in those dark streets, watching a mass of shadows slink around a wall, expanding in a blink into larger, more graceful, and more deadly shapes. It had been the begi

“He could have been killed. He almost was killed,” I finished, quietly furious. “He could have left me—they didn’t want him, they’d have let him go—but he stayed anyway. He risked everything for me.”

“You seem to admire the man a great deal.”

“Of course I do!”

“Then I must admit to being confused. You said you’ve never had a choice.”

“I haven’t!”

“Yet it appears that the life you have is the one you would have chosen.”

I started to fire back a response, and then stopped as his words sank in. “We ca

“And what do you expect me to do?” I demanded. “Because I don’t know how to make this co

“It isn’t a task to be performed or a skill to be learned. It’s instinctive.”

“Can’t you track him?” I was desperate for another answer, any other answer. Cyrus’s life could not hang on the tenuous thread of my Were heritage. It just couldn’t.

“Not through a city, not without having a very good idea of where to start looking. There are too many conflicting scents.”

“But he’s your brother!”

Sebastian shook his head. “After the challenge I was forced to sever ties, and for it to look real it had to be real. In Were terms, I am no longer Cyrus’s brother. The ties between us were cut, metaphysically as well as legally, by the ceremony making him vargulf. And an Outcast wolf has no clan until he forms one by taking a mate.”

Leaving Cyrus exactly one hope. Me.

Chapter 4

“No.” Sedgewick didn’t even bother to look apologetic, not that I’d have believed it coming from him.

“I’m fine,” I insisted urgently. Hargrove had taken Sebastian off to confer with Jamie, and I didn’t have a lot of time. The release form was on Sedgewick’s desk, but so far, he’d refused to so much as glance at it. “I was pla

“Oh, were you? How kind of you to enlighten me.” He was in rare form even for him. He’d taken Sebastian’s refusal to allow him to carve up the so-fascinating corpse hard. And since this was Sedgewick, that meant that the rest of us were going to suffer, too.

“You know what I mean,” I said, trying for composed while a thrumming instinct urged hurry with every beat of my heart. “After you release me.”

“Which I haven’t done. And won’t, for at least another two weeks.”

“Two weeks!”

“You almost died, mage, not even a month ago!” he snapped. “Or did I imagine the puddle of blood in the hallway, and the five hours I spent in surgery patching you up after that son-of-a-bitch shot you?”

“I’ve been shot before,” I reminded him. Although not at point-blank range. I’d uncovered a traitor in the Corps and almost gotten killed taking him down. I was better now, except for my magic, which had yet to completely stabilize. But it would have to do. “And I’m not going to be doing anything strenuous—”

“I know you’re not, because you’re going to be here.”

“Sedgewick!”

“That’s doctor to you. And you can whine all you like, but I will not sign a release for anyone whose magic is acting as unpredictably as yours!”

“You said that would even out!”

“And so it will, once you’re fully healed.” I started to speak, but he cut me off. “Let me put this in very simple terms. Your body had too many assaults on its magic at one time. Now it is stuck on high alert, very similar to a person’s immune system revving up to combat a serious infection. With the exception that your magic is attacking anything it perceives as a threat—whether it actually is or not! That makes it erratic and dangerous and therefore restricted to base!”

“But—”

“Although if you think you can convince Dick otherwise after almost decapitating him this morning, be my guest,” he finished, with the smug expression that was factory standard for assholes.

I left before I was tempted to put Sedgewick in one of his own hospital beds. I slammed out into the corridor, furious but already pla

Something hit me with enough force to slam my head back against a row of lockers. I saw stars, and my lip split, spraying blood across my chin. I could taste it—hot and metallic-sweet as I grabbed for a weapon, before I belatedly remembered that I wasn’t currently authorized to carry one.

I threw myself around the side of the lockers, trying to prepare a rough-and-ready spell that might carve through my assailant’s shields without taking out half the corridor along with them. I expected another attack, one more serious than a crack to the jaw, but there was no follow-up. I peered out through the small clear space under the lockers, looking for feet, but there weren’t any. That didn’t necessarily mean there was no one there. But if someone was hiding behind a cloaking spell, the distinct lack of pummeling was odd.