“I think I’m going to go check on Medea,” I said.
With Lucia’s big dog in the house, we’d shut Medea in the tack room out in the stables. The horses in the pasture whinnied at me when I walked by. I threw them a couple of flakes of alfalfa hay, though there was plenty of grass in the pasture. A couple of extra flakes wouldn’t hurt them.
Medea greeted me with frantic purrs. I sat down on the wooden floor next to her and petted her, trying not to think.
There were two Western saddles bedecked with silver on wooden saddle racks and another pair that were more everyday trail saddles. Blue ribbons and big, oversized awards plastered one wall. Everything was covered with dust, as if, like the horses, they had not been used since Peter died.
Eventually, Darryl came out to talk.
“Hey, girl,” he said from the doorway.
“Hey.”
“Jesse was summoned as taster in the kitchen,” he told me. “They should be over at the house by now, in the middle of changing.” Adam’s plan had been to find a quiet spot near Guayota’s place so that all the wolves could change. Then they would wait until the small hours of the night and take what advantage surprise might offer them.
I’d been keeping track of the time, too. “I’ll let you know if our mating bond tells me anything,” I told him, my attention firmly on the way Medea’s rabbit-soft coat rippled under my fingers.
“We’ll all feel it if anyone dies,” Darryl told me after a very long moment. “Why don’t you come into the house? I’ll keep Christy in line.”
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. He smiled sheepishly. “Okay. But I expect she’ll behave in front of everyone, anyway.”
“It’s not Christy,” I assured him. “I just don’t have any comfort for anyone left in me, Darryl. And if someone even looks at me with sympathy … no. I’ll wait here for a while more.”
He hesitated. “I told him I would look after you.” His voice was soft, as soft as I’d ever heard it.
I wiped my eyes angrily but managed a half laugh. “Shut up. Samuel told me not to mourn until I had something to mourn about.”
“Yeah,” Darryl said softly. “Yeah.”
He leaned against the doorframe and kept me company for a few minutes before returning to the house. It would be hours before we knew anything, anything at all. Tibicenas could be killed, temporarily, if they caught them in dog form. They were going to try to take them out as early in the fight as they could, and if that didn’t destroy Guayota or send him back where he came from, they would then concentrate on Guayota. Seven werewolves and a walker against a god.
I curled up around Medea and prayed as fervently as I ever had. I had faith that it would help. But death isn’t a tragedy to God, only to those left behind.
I finished, and only then realized that Stefan was sitting on a hay bale on the wall on the far side of the stable aisle, where he could look through the tack room door and see me.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said. “I told you I’d come talk tonight, but I had some trouble finding you.” He paused. “I talked to Darryl at the house. He told me what’s going on. A volcano god, eh? If I’d realized exactly what that address meant … I’m not sure I’d have gotten it for you.” He looked away. “I think the talk I promised you ought to wait until—until later, I suppose.”
I’d forgotten about the talk. Somehow, it didn’t seem important to fuss about something he could have done nothing about. Any other day, I might have gotten self-righteously angry. I’d worked really hard not to freak at the bonds I shared with Adam and the pack. I wasn’t sure I had it in me not to freak about a bond with a vampire, even one I liked. But today I couldn’t find the energy to lie to myself and believe that blaming Stefan for the mess would make anything better.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “It wasn’t your fault. I understand why you didn’t tell me that the bond was still real. I agreed to it in the first place, and I’d do it again, even knowing the consequences. Lies aren’t always destructive, are they? Sometimes a few lies hurt no one. You have nothing to apologize for, and I have nothing to be mad about.”
He patted the hay bale beside him. I picked up Medea, got to my feet, and stepped down into the stable aisle. He smelled like popcorn, and it was subtly reassuring. I sat down next to him, and Medea deserted my lap for his.
His fingers found the favored spot under her ear, and she closed her eyes and purred. I leaned against his shoulder, and he waited with me.
The barn was dark, the only light came from the bare bulb in the tack room. It smelled of leather, hay, and horses. I could hear the two horses eating outside and Medea’s purring. An owl hooted from somewhere nearby. In the distance, very far distance, I could hear a car’s engine. Someone coming home from a Saturday shopping expedition or an early movie.
I closed my eyes. Stefan’s arm tightened and loosened under my temple as he petted Medea. I couldn’t hear his heartbeat or listen to him breathe. Usually when he forgot to make himself humanlike, the oddness made me uncomfortable, but tonight it was peaceful. I only wanted one heartbeat in my ear.
Adam’s.
The horses took off running, their hooves a rapid thunder in the night. I pulled my head off Stefan’s shoulder to see if I could hear what spooked them.
“The wind changed, and they smelled me,” Stefan said. “That’s all. They’ll be back in a few minutes because they aren’t really scared.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “I remember when all I wanted was to ride a horse. We had four at my home when I was growing up. Two were plow horses. One was a pony my mother used to go to market. The fourth was a riding horse that just showed up one day wearing the remains of a saddle. One of his knees was enlarged, and it was sore for months afterward. It never really went down, but it didn’t seem to bother him much after he rested up. We kept waiting for someone to come claim him, but no one ever did. I learned to ride on him.”
The car was getting closer though still probably a couple of miles out. Something about it made me nervous—I stood up. It sounded like the car Juan Flores had been driving when he broke into my garage.
“Stefan,” I said. “How many people can you do your instant transport with, if we’re only talking a couple of miles?”
“Four. Maybe five if I don’t need to be conscious after the last one. You need me to take you somewhere?”