There was another basket waiting behind the woodpile. I set the axe down and carefully walked to it. Various jars of herbs and what looked like yoga pants were folded into it. A smile bloomed on my face.
No one was in the forest around me, at least from what I could tell. I took the basket back inside, where Derek and Elliot were making noodles from scratch for lasagna tonight.
“This was outside.”
Derek wiped his hands on his apron and zipped over to me. He took the basket and peeked under the cloth, which had little blue flowers stitched around the edge.
Elliot winked at me while he cranked the pasta machine.
Golden dough came out the other end in thin strips. “Well?”
Elliot asked over his shoulder. “He always makes me do the dirty work.”
“Only because you’re so good at it,” Derek murmured, eyes looking at a piece of stationery before they snapped to me. “More shifters, from Claire. Lander’s mate.”
“That was really nice,” I said, taken aback by the kindness of someone I had never met. She had already sent me a pair of her own. This was too much.
“She even put in a few books for you too.”
“We should make an extra pan and send it to her,” Elliot suggested.
“I want to help.” I leaned against the counter. Derek went back to the ball of dough resting in a snowfall of flour. “She didn’t have to do that. She doesn’t even know me.”
But Liam did. I knew this was his doing.
“Pack looks after its own,” Derek replied. “But I am sure that a thank-you note and a pan of this won’t hurt either.”
“I’m not pack, though.”
“Yes, but you’re Levi’s charge,” Elliot added. “Finish chopping?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t get to start, I saw that.” I motioned my chin at the basket.
“Well, after you finish, help us make this. Elliot is really only good with the noodles,” Derek added with a cheeky grin.
“Lots of experience,” Elliot replied, a sly smile creeping up his lips.
Derek rolled his eyes. “Cursed, I tell you.”
Elliot shrugged innocently. “What? You like my noodles? Or noodle, should I say?”
My cheeks flushed while my feet started to backpedal.
“And I have wood to chop.”
I turned and headed back to the woodpile that I had come to hate less but that still didn’t have me springing out of bed each morning. After I finished with the log pile, I showered before I helped Elliot with the lasagna. He banished Derek to sit and drink his wine while we assembled it. Elliot was apparently an expert lasagna assembler, per his own words, and he let me sneak bites when Derek wasn’t looking.
“This is right? Right?”
Elliot looked at where I was smoothing out a ricotta cheese mix of fresh herbs and sharp parmesan cheese. He nodded. “Yeah. Doesn’t have to be perfect. Just try to make sure the lumps are gone and all the sides are covered.”
“Want another drink?” Derek asked me.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
I wished they would. I didn’t want to think about what would come the next day.
Derek rolled his eyes. “We would never entice you to misbehave. Right, Elliot?” he asked, walking to the refrigerator.
“Oh, us?” Elliot said, a dramatic hand flying to his chest.
“Never.”
Derek shook his head, a coy smile on his lips. Before he opened the refrigerator, he reached for the red marker and marked another day off the calendar. The last day before tomorrow—the full moon.
My fingers froze. Nausea crept in. Elliot gave me a side-hug. Derek smiled softly. “It’s going to be fine. Look at you, you’ve worked so hard—”
“Levi said it may not matter.”
“Well, one thing you’ll learn is that sometimes, Levi is full of shit,” Derek countered sharply. He pulled out the red wine and carried it over to me. “Oh shit—” He zipped back to the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle then shrugged at me. “That one had blood, sorry. Unless you want to try?”
“Nope!”
Elliot laughed as he scooped ricotta off my spatula with a finger. “Hey!”
He shrugged. “A little trouble is always good for you.”
Derek poured some more wine into my glass. “You’re going to be fine—look, you’re going to be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t, but if you were a racehorse, I would be putting my money on you.”
I went back to my task. Elliot looked at the calendar then picked up his glass and took a long sip. “You know, I think it’s going to be a Blood Moon tomorrow. Actual y”—he paused and pulled out his phone, scrolling until he nodded to himself—“yup, Blood Moon. I forgot it was that time of the year,” he added, eyes looking outside where fresh snow was starting to fall.
He leaned his head in his palm. “It always comes earlier than we anticipate.”
“Is that bad?”
“Is what bad?”
“The Blood Moon.”
Elliot shrugged. “It’s an honor to be able to shift on a moon like that. Lucky, I think. Don’t you, love?”
Derek nodded. “You’ll be fine,” he said, but it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than me.
All night it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than me that I would still be here after tomorrow. He gave me extra helpings of the lasagna bursting with flavors of gooey cheese, sweet tomatoes, and fresh basil that danced around my tongue. He argued that I would need the extra weight for winter. He even made me tiramisu, his mother’s recipe. He said it wasn’t a special occasion, but to me it felt like the Last Supper.
Levi didn’t say much. It seemed like he drank whiskey more than he ate. I tried to ignore it and just focus on myself—on living. But it was hard when the solemnity of the situation shadowed your every step.
There was no sleep at all that night. I tossed and turned while my thoughts ate at me like ants. Eventually, it was too much. The room was hot, my thoughts too constricting, and the sheets too suffocating.
I found myself walking out of my bedroom to the kitchen. The front door was open, but the screen door was closed. Levi was outside drinking and smoking up a storm, while heavy clouds slowly released a light mist into the night sky. Rationality told me to go back to bed, but my gut had me grabbing a coffee mug and blanket then walking outside.
He didn’t move or look at me. Then he took a sip from his glass and leaned back in his chair. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.” I took a seat in a rocking chair on the other side of the small end table where a fish-shaped ashtray was becoming a mountain of gray.
He opened the bottle of Jack Daniel’s and poured me a healthy amount. “Well, happy drinking, Charlie girl.”
The bottle was almost gone. There was something more rigid than usual about tonight. He threw his glass back so I tried to do the same, but almost choked on it. He grumbled some curses under his breath then poured more whiskey into my mug.
“What do you think?”
“About what?” I asked before I tossed another drink back. Maybe if I drank enough, I would fall into a dreamless sleep where Nate couldn’t find me.
“You know what.”
“I don’t know.”
He looked over at me, eyes lightly glowing like the moon. “Yes, you do.”
“I don’t want to die,” I admitted.
He nodded, the pupils pulsating in his eyes. I felt this thing in me crawl forward, making her presence known in the conversation. “She doesn’t either.”
“She could get me killed.”
“She could,” he agreed.
He poured some more whiskey into our glasses before he took a long drag of his cigarette. He looked like a dragon blowing smoke out of his mouth, and for a moment I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was fire too.
“Did you ever think about running before?”
I sank in my seat. There was no getting out of this.
“Question game?” He eyed me then nodded in concession.
“Yes, but I never could follow through.”
“Why?”
“That’s two questions.”
“I know.”
I took a sip from my mug. “There’s a laundry list of reasons to answer that. I was scared, I didn’t have a good enough plan, I thought I could make it work—I thought I could fix it. I wanted to fix it, I thought I could help us find the people we once were. I was so stupid.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Thanks,” I replied, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. “My turn?”
He opened the bottle and poured more whiskey into his glass before reaching across the table and pouring some more into mine. “Yup.”
“Do you think I’m going to die?”
He rubbed his tired face. “It’s not about what I think.”
“Answer me.” He looked over at me, face leaning on his palms. “Please.”
“I don’t know,” he told me honestly. “You’re a stubborn little shit. I’ll give you that.”
“At least I have that going for me.”
“You do,” he added with a dark chuckle. “You do have that.”
“I get another question.”
“I know.” He sighed.
“You rarely mention your brother,” I said. He looked over at me from the corner of his eye, almost like he was waiting for the inevitable. “You said last time the columns were to protect the pack from you. Why?” He leaned back and took another long drag. “You—you’re an asshole. But you don’t seem—”
“Crazy?” He let out a dark chuckle. “Oh, I went crazy.
Real good and crazy. Some nights I still do.” I didn’t open my mouth because I could see he knew that I wasn’t backing down from this. If I was going to die tomorrow, then what did I have to lose? “It wasn’t safe. I wasn’t in control of myself. It was more to protect the pack than me.” He took a drink. “It’s my turn.”
“Okay.”
“You never thought about running to any family?”
“There’s no one left but my uncle, and I—I was too embarrassed,” I admitted. “My uncle, Benji, well, he and Nate never got along. We drifted apart. Benji and me. I mean, I knew he would always be there; it was just hard with Nate. I haven’t talked to him in years. I have no idea where he even is these days.” I took a long drink from my mug, the whiskey washing away the fear that held back my words. “If I make it, I would like to see him again. He’s all the family I have left.”
Levi grunted in agreement. He opened the bottle then poured some more whiskey into each of our glasses. The mist was letting up enough for us to see a ghost of the moon behind the clouds.
“My turn?” He nodded. “What happened to you? Why seclude yourself?”
“She died. They died,” he answered quietly, almost so quietly I thought I could have imagined that he said it.
I didn’t open my mouth. I didn’t dare push further while he flicked the ash off his cigarette into the tray. “Do you remember what Derek was talking about the other day, about bonds?”
“Yes,” I replied.
He nodded to himself, swirling his whiskey in his glass.
“How did I know that you were going to ask me this?”
“Because you know everything?” I tried to tease.
He laughed, almost sadly, then nodded into his glass while he took a drink. “Around eight years ago I told her not to go—my mate,” he said, answering the question on my tongue. “She took our son, only nineteen, with her. She’d promised her brother that we would go to this cookout they were having at his pack. I had to stay here. I had things I couldn’t get away from with work. I was going to come later. She went ahead with Lucas. That night, when I was supposed to go over there, we were under attack. It was just a few rogues, nothing a few grown wolves couldn’t handle. But as soon as we handled them, two more groups just appeared.
“All the packs close to the mountain were attacked that night. We had no idea how bad, they figured out a way to stop us from linking.” He tapped his temple. “Communicating. I couldn’t hear her calling me. I couldn’t hear my son.”
He paused. His eyes looked at his mug. My chest was so tight I thought I would shatter with the slightest touch.
“Someone finally got a hold of Lander’s cell phone. They told him to bring everyone, but it didn’t matter. When we got there, it was a fucking bloodbath. They slaughtered men, women, kids. Tore them up like animals,” he snarled. “They killed her brother, the head of that pack, his mate, and their oldest son. And they took her from me. They took her, my son, and the baby in her belly.”
My hand was over my mouth. What could I even say to that? We both sat there quietly. The mist turned into snow around us. The whiskey unable to relieve the heaviness.
“Levi, I’m so sorry.”
“She loved these fucking rosebushes,” he murmured. He nudged his chin behind us. “That’s my son’s room. His old room.”
“What?”
“The one you’re in.” He took a drag. “I wanted to die.
I went crazy. I don’t remember the first year after or really much of the one after that. But I guess, as you know, we don’t always get what we want in this life.”
“I’m sorry,” I found myself half whispering.
“Me too,” he said before he took a long drag.
“And your initials on the tree . . .”
“Lander’s better for the job anyway.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. The snowflakes were heavier, and the whiskey enticing me to prod, but I hated seeing him like this.
“Change of subject?”
He let out a sharp laugh. “Please.”
I took a long drink, my mind still spinning and half wondering if I would even be able to sleep in my room tonight.
“So tomorrow—” He laughed again and looked over at me, brows raised a little higher. “What’s the plan?”
“Don’t die.”
“No shit.” I rolled my eyes. “Will it be like last time?”
He poured more whiskey into my cup. “Worse,” he answered. “You’ll get the fever, like last time, but it’s going to be so hot that you’re going to want to rip your skin off.
Don’t do that.”
“Right,” I replied sardonically.
“And you’ll start to shift. Bones will move, things will crack into place. It’s not a fast process, takes a long time. We have adrenaline that Elliot was able to get just in case.”
“Adrenaline?”
“In case you get close to dying we can shoot you up with some to give you an extra boost.”
“Jesus.” I let out a hot breath then took a long sip.
“Sounds like it’s going to be fun.”
“Oh, you’re going to have a damn ball, Charlie girl.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
He wiggled his glass back and forth. “Well, for born wolves, anywhere from four to six hours. It depends.
Humans I would say the latter end of that. I wouldn’t try to rush it. Too fast and it will kill you, and too slow and it will also kill you.”
“So, what—what the hell do I do?”
“Figure out where your Goldilocks is. Work with her—he doesn’t want to die, but you have to work with her. You’ll know when it’s too much and you’ll know when you need to push harder.” He started to crush his cigarette out. “We have plenty of water, ice, blankets. Tomorrow you need to try and rest, save up your energy.”
“Okay.” I breathed out.
“Well, that’s a damn miracle.”
“What?”
“You agreeing with me,” he grumbled. He reached for another cigarette.
“If I live, you have to quit smoking.”
“What if I told you I liked it?”
“You can’t like that. It smells like death.”
“Death ain’t bad.”
“If I live, no more.”
He held my gaze, fingers toying with the fresh cigarette.
“Fine.” He put it on the table next to his drink. “You should attempt to sleep. You’re going to need it.”
I was too wired to sleep but he was right, I needed to try.
I stood up but almost fell backward. Apparently, I wasn’t at Levi’s level of whiskey drinking.
“Easy.” He walked to me and held out his arms. I tried to push them away and walk on my own, but I almost fell on my ass again.
“I didn’t realize that—”
“You’re a lightweight?”
Before I could argue he picked me up. I wanted to grumble at him but I let it pass. At the moment, my bladder was more important than arguing with him.
“Levi?”
“Yap?”
“Can you drop me off at the bathroom first?”
“I’m not a damn taxi, Charlotte.”
“Please?”
He hissed something of a different language under his breath, then dropped me off at the bathroom. After I was finished, he just picked me up and carried me to my bed, where I scooted under the covers.
My vision was swimming from the alcohol. When he walked away, it looked like he was walking sideways.
He returned and put a large glass of water along with a bottle of Advil next to my bed. “Drink this. Take some tonight and tomorrow morning.”
My fingers slipped on the lid of the bottle. “How many?”
I asked.
He rolled his eyes and opened the bottle for me. He poured two into my hand. I swallowed the red pills then chased them with the cool water.
“Hey, Levi?”
“Yap?” he replied from over his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
He paused at my door, this strange softness about him.
“Eve. Her name was Eve.”
