Chapter 7 - Vera

For a child so small, Jessa seemed to come with an endless amount of supplies. Vera double-checked the diaper bag for bottles, formula, and Jessa’s favorite rattle before zipping it shut.

“All ready to go?” She asked Jessa, snapping the buckles shut on her car seat harness.

Jessa blinked sleepy eyes at her. According to the schedule she’d been working on, it was nearly time for her last nap of the day. Rami had snuck out early that morning, passing Jessa to Vera the moment she came downstairs, claiming he needed to meet Jonah first thing before work.

Despite her protests about his ridiculous plan to avoid each other, he’d done his best to make it happen. If he was home, he’d find a way to be anywhere she wasn’t—working in the backyard or the garage, up in his bedroom, or Jesse’s room, leaving Vera to spend her evenings alone on the couch.

In some ways, she found it amusing. He was treating her like some succubus that he couldn’t handle being near, and she liked knowing that he could barely fight his attraction toward her. In other ways, it hurt. She felt lonelier than ever. Jessa was good company when she was awake, but at her age, she spent most of her time sleeping.

She grabbed her travel mug of coffee, then lifted the handle of Jesse’s snap-in car seat and headed to the car. Frost glittered on the hood. After settling Jessa into her spot in the backseat, Vera pulled out of the drive and headed for the lighthouse.

Anxiety ping-ponged in her stomach, and the extra shot of caffeine probably wasn’t helping, but she wasn’t willing to compromise on coffee. It was one of the few joys she had left in her life right then. That, and watching Rami’s eyes bulge every time she wore something short or tight.

Jonah and Rami had arranged for Moira to watch Jessa while some of the Silversands and Rosewoods hunted for clues about the curse, and that meant Vera had to face Moira again. She was pretty sure Jonah had filled Moira in on Vera’s new living conditions, which meant her sister would have a lot of questions that Vera didn’t want to answer.

She could just imagine the judgment in Moira’s eyes, especially after Vera had spent most of her life preaching to Moira about being responsible and striving for excellence. Now, it was Vera who had to eat her own words. Humiliating.

“Lucky you’re an only child.” Vera peeked in the rearview mirror to see Jesse’s reflection. Her eyes were closed, and she had the fleece blanket, patterned with tiny sheep, clutched in her little fist.

Somehow, she’d gone from barely thinking about relationships to spending all of her time thinking about them. She’d never given much thought to her relationship with Moira until it had fractured, and even then, she’d just stepped back, let the gulf between them widen until it seemed insurmountably large.

It was a short drive to the lighthouse, and too soon, Vera was pulling to a stop on the sandy road beside it, two tires in the dunes. The lighthouse windows glowed with warmth in the low light of dusk. She’s your little sister, stop freaking out. But Vera’s pulse pounded in her ears, and the steady hands that had completed so many surgeries were shaking.

Jessa didn’t stir when Vera lifted her out of the car. Diaper bag in one hand and baby in the other, she made her way up the stone path to the lighthouse. She almost wished Jessa would wake up and start crying. At least that would give Vera an excuse not to talk much to Moira.

She knocked on the door and waited, watching the windows for signs of Moira’s approach. Shadows shifted on the other side of the curtains. Vera’s stomach tightened as footsteps approached the door, growing louder until it swung open and Moira was there, Cora on her hip. She wasn’t smiling.

Awkward. Vera cleared her throat. “Hey. Thanks for watching her for me.”

If Moria had her arms free, Vera was certain she would’ve crossed them. Her face was ten kinds of unwelcoming. But she shifted to the side and gestured for Vera to come in.

“Shut the door behind you,” Moira shrugged, “or leave it open if you plan to take off without a word again.”

Vera deserved that, and the biting tone it was delivered in, but she couldn’t help bristling. “Very funny.” She nudged the door shut with her heel.

As always, the lighthouse smelled like home cooking. Moira’s style couldn’t have been more different than Vera’s minimalism—there were blankets and pillows all over the couch and objects on nearly every surface—but it made for an undeniably homey space. Even if it made Vera’s skin itch.

“Hi there, Cora.” Vera smiled at her niece and got a shy one back. “You sure you can handle them both?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it the moment it left her mouth; it was too late to snatch it back.

Moira set Cora down and whirled on her. “Seriously, Vera? From what I hear, from other people, since you don’t talk to your own sister anymore, your life is in shambles. And you want to question whether or not I can handle a baby? I thought maybe having your life fall apart would humble you a little, but I guess that was wishful thinking.”

Shambles? Is that what people were saying? They weren’t wrong but she hated the idea of other people knowing what a mess she was, hated the breakdown of her perfect veneer.

“I’m sorry.” Her apology shocked Moira, left her with her mouth open, speechless. “You’re right, I’m a mess right now.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, and with her hands full of Jessa, Vera couldn’t wipe them away. Moira softened, a better person than Vera ever was, and swept her into a hug.

“We all go through it sometimes.” Moira pulled back. “Sit for a minute and have a snack before you head out.”

That was Moira, always thinking a pastry could solve everything. Vera didn’t argue, though. Taking a seat at the island with Jessa in her lap, she watched Moira move confidently around her tiny kitchen, seeming perfectly at ease with herself for the first time in her life. Gone was the self-conscious, self-deprecating girl that Vera had watched grow up. Something about this life suited her, and it showed.

And for the first time in Vera’s life, she was jealous of Moira. Jealous of her sister, who seemed to have it all figured out like Vera once thought she had.

“Stop ruminating,” Moira warned, sliding a plate over to Vera.

A cinnamon roll the size of her hand covered most of the delicate floral pattern of the plate, and the warm smell of spices and butter hit her nose. Her stomach growled.

“I suppose it’ll be a long night; a little fuel couldn’t hurt.”

She couldn’t resist Moira’s baked goods. Nobody could. That’s what made her bakery on Main Street so successful. After Moira had taken over ownership of the place, it had gone from a barely hanging on shop to a sensation, pulling in customers from miles away.

Even through her tears, the cinnamon roll was delicious, and some of the tension in her shoulders started to ease when the first trickle of sugar reached her bloodstream.

“Tell me about Rami.” Moira sat down beside Vera and reached to take Jessa from her arms. “And let me hold this sweet girl.”

She’d expected Moira to dig into Vera’s unexpected move or job change, not the failed romance. What could she even say? The whole thing was a mess she had waded into willingly.

“What is there to say? I never should’ve gotten into a relationship. Didn’t I always tell you they weren’t worth it, that they’d just distract you from the important things? Well, I didn't take my own advice, and look where it got me.” Vera set down her fork and stared down at her hands, unable to meet Moira’s gaze. “I let him in, Moira, and he dumped me. No explanation. Just dumped.”

Moira hissed in through her teeth. “That bastard. I thought he was better than that.”

Vera shrugged limply. “And now here I am, working as his nanny, and I can’t even convince myself it’s not partly because it gives me an excuse to be close to him still.”

“I’m worried it’s just going to mean you get hurt all over again.” Moira shifted Jessa in her arms, wrapping the blanket tighter around the girl. “She’s precious, Vera, and you won’t be able to stay unattached.”

“Maybe,” Vera began, then stopped, cheeks flushing hot. “Maybe I don’t want to stay unattached.”

“He rejected you.” Moira dropped her voice to a whisper. “Rejected his own mate and didn’t even give a reason? If I got my hands on him…”

Vera smiled even as the tears continued to roll. Seeing her gentle sister playing the protector was almost enough to pull her from her melancholy.

“Trust me, sometimes it’s all I can do not to thrash him.”

Add it to the long list of things Vera had considered trying in order to get him back in her most desperate, dark moments. Thankfully, she’d had the wherewithal to not try anything on the list, as that would’ve led to a whole other level of shame. She’d settled for ignoring her pain while her life crumbled around her.

“And your job, V? And the house? It’s not like you to just walk away like that. You’ve never cared about anything like you cared about your job. It was your world.”

Vera looked down at the crumbs on her plate. “Maybe it was. But I don’t know what my world is anymore. I feel like I don’t know anything at all. For a while, it felt like I was in free fall, unable to grab onto anything to hold me steady. And I’ve been wondering if maybe the things I thought I wanted aren’t the only things I needed after all.”

Moira considered for a moment before answering. “Fine. But I still want to thrash him.” She squeezed Vera’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came here. I missed you a little. Not too much because you’re kind of a bitch sometimes, but a little.”

Vera snorted. She’d be the first to admit that she was a bitch most of the time. “I missed you too. Shit, I’m going to be late.”

The clock above the stove read quarter past seven, and she was supposed to meet the others at the edge of town at half past. She jumped to her feet.

“You have everything you need? Diapers and formula are in there, and her favorite toys, too. Oh, she likes—“

“Vera, I’ve got a kid; you don’t need to explain it to me. Get out of here.” Moira shooed her away from the diaper bag and out the door.

The unceremonious goodbye was just what Vera preferred. She’d had all the emotional tenderness she could handle in there, enough to last her for weeks. Now, she just had one thing to do, and it was what she was best at—tracking.

She drove too fast and made it to the meetup with five minutes to spare. Rami and Jonah waited a few feet away from Spencer, the Rosewood Alpha, and Adria, his mate. Her pack leaders. She dipped them a nod of greeting.

“Sorry for cutting it close. What are we doing tonight?” She focused on Spencer and Adria, forcing herself not to check out Rami. He did look good in that shirt, though. It barely contained his muscular arms, the ones that lifted her with ease so she could wrap her legs around his waist and— stop and focus.

“At this point?” Spencer blew out a breath. “Anything out of the ordinary. All we have right now is a rumor.”

“That’s where your tracking will come in handy. If you catch the scent of anything unusual, send up a howl. Don’t try to track it on your own, okay?” Adria waited until Vera nodded in confirmation before shifting into her wolf form.

Vera followed suit, shaking out her inky fur and digging her claws into the soft dirt at the edge of the forest. The others circled around then, as one, they loped into the woods, fanning out to cover as much distance as possible while keeping each other in sight. Rami ran at her right side, and she took the place farthest to the left, leaving her side open. It was easier to track without another wolf’s scent filling her nose.

At first, she just let herself enjoy the run. Dappled moonlight danced on the forest floor, wind fanning through the leaves above. She smelled loamy earth and melting snow and Rami. His silver-grey fur caught the moonlight as hers didn’t, and she kept finding her eyes drifting toward him.

Come on, Vera, get it together. The pull toward her mate was stronger than ever as a wolf, but she snarled and dropped her head, picking up speed to put more space between them.

“Don’t get too far,” Rami cautioned, his voice deep and steady in her mind.

She ignored him, darting between the trees. He wasn’t even in her pack, and he’d rejected her as his mate, so she had no reason to listen to him and all the reasons to run. But he kept hot on her heels, refusing to let her flee.

“ Dammit, Vera, it’s not safe.”

The smell crept into her nose. A faint scent of wrongness reminded her of the night Rami had picked her up in his car, like decay and ozone and spice, stinging her muzzle. With Rami at her back, she had no choice but to keep running, even as the smell grew stronger, making her snort and sneeze.

Even Rami smelled it eventually.

“What is that? Is something rotting?”

“ It’s not just rot.”

She was certain of that. But what was it? Oddly, though the smell was so strong it flooded all other scents from her nose now, even Rami’s, it had lost the repugnant tang. Now, it smelled like fresh meat and hot blood.

Vera stopped short. Rami skidded to a halt beside her, panting. Set into the woods as if it were part of it sat a cabin, moss covering its shingled roof and vines trailing over its walls, curling toward its windows. The windows were dark.

They should call for the others, but the scent had her dizzy, her feet moving toward the cabin of their own volition. Rami shoved his way in front of her, blocking her with the bulk of his body.

“Stop. Something isn’t right.”

He lifted his muzzle to the sky and howled.