Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kicks slowed the bike.

I got off, looking around the dense forest and taking the opportunity to stretch my legs. "Are we close?"

I hadn't been in California since my mother died. With everything else happening, it didn't seem to hit me until now. Somehow New York falling hadn't hit me as hard as coming back here, with her gone and the place I'd lived most of my life destroyed.

"We're about an hour away, but I wanted to talk to you before we got there."

I was beginning to dread anytime someone wanted to talk to me. It was never good. Maybe being surprised by whatever bad thing was coming was better? The bad might still come, but at least I wouldn't dread it until it happened.

"What's wrong?"

"Several of our members have family over at the California pack, and vice versa. As you know, word gets out. After what happened, there is going to have been some chatter. I'm not sure what kind of reception we'll receive."

" We ? You mean me . I'm pretty sure I'm the one they won't be happy to see."

"Whatever the case, don't wander off on your own, and I want you to be on guard."

"Got it." I grabbed my canteen off the back of the bike. "I'm going to fill up before we get moving again."

I moved toward the sound of the water, looking for a few minutes alone.

Kicks didn't follow right away but appeared a few moments later, finding me kneeling beside the river and staring off into the distance.

"Is there something else?"

"California holds a lot of memories for me."

So much had happened in the last month that it was strange when I realized how little we really knew about each other. I'd had decades of life before him. He'd had… I didn't even know how old he was. Life had been such a constant battle since Death Day that what had come before was beginning to feel like it didn't exist most days. Even when it did, it didn't matter. And then there'd be times like this, where you couldn't see beyond all the ghosts of your past.

"I thought you were from New York?" he asked.

"I was born in New York, but I lived most of my life in California."

"Did you have family there?"

"I did." There didn't seem to be a reason to tell him my mother had passed from cancer before Death Day stole so many other lives. That would only irritate a wound that still hadn't closed.

I still wasn't sure what was worse—someone passing so suddenly that you felt that you didn't get a chance for goodbyes, or watching them slowly slip away bit by bit and not being able to do a thing about it.

Kicks watched me but didn't press for anything else.

"I'll be at the bike," he said, giving me my space.

Once we got back on the road, it didn't take long to get there. We rolled up to a gated development in a high-end California suburb with a couple of guards at the gate.

"Hey, Kicks. How's it going over in Arkansas?" one of them asked, looking happy to see him.

"As good as anywhere else," Kicks said.

"Yeah, I hear you there," the guard said. "Okay, well, head on up. Nix is expecting you. Third house on the left."

The other guard didn't say anything, hanging back a bit and then opening the gate at the signal.

I didn't miss the way they stared at me as we drove up through the gates. They hadn't only heard some gossip—they believed it.

Nix looked a little older than I'd expected, but still in his forties if he were human. With his thick, wavy golden hair and perfect build, I had to wonder if being attractive was an alpha requirement. Or did it just go hand in hand with their strong genetics?

"Come in. I just put some coffee on," he said.

We went into Nix's house, which looked exactly like I'd expect from a high-end build around here.

He waved us over to a sitting area in the room, making a concerted effort not to stare. He was most definitely sizing me up, though, and weighing if I were a threat.

He poured us both some coffee, bringing over a plate of pastries as well.

"Where's your mate?" Kicks said.

"She went up north, hunting with her brother."

He'd known we were coming. Had he been trying to get her out of here before I arrived? Or was that just paranoia setting in? It was hard to know at this point.

"She wanted to be here to meet you, but it's a family tradition that they go this time every year," he added.

Definitely not paranoia. He'd sent her away. I would've too if I were him.

"I like the new place. You've got a good setup here," Kicks said.

"The narrow roads make it easier to protect, although we're going to have to eventually move again. Right now we're running on generators, but we'll be out of fuel eventually and have to set up something closer to what you have. Any word from those humans setting up that oil rig?"

I nearly spat out my coffee. The two men looked at me. "Wrong pipe," I managed to get out.

"I wouldn't count on that, at least with the same crew," Kicks said. "Might be a bit before that situation is ironed out now."

Nix nodded, obviously fluent in reading between the lines. "Well, there'll be another. Maybe one of the packs will have to take a crack at it—not that I wanted to."

"Maybe," Kicks said, sounding as if he weren't looking to get into that either.

There was an awkward stretch of silence as Nix seemed to be figuring out how to broach a topic. "You seem decent enough, and I hope you get whatever answers you need from our guide," he said. "But for the sake of the stability and well-being of my pack, I'd like to ask you to limit your stay to as short as possible. Groza has been planting seeds throughout, and it makes things difficult."

Kicks reached out and took my hand, making his stance clear. Even if I wanted to pull it away from him, I couldn't. He had a death grip on me. He'd probably break my fingers before he'd let go.

"I understand. I appreciate your allowing us to come here at all."

Was that a "thank you" Kicks had just uttered? Because if I hadn't understood the words, the tone would've been more suited to a "go fuck yourself."

"Kicks, you're an alpha. You understand the need to protect your pack," Nix said.

"I do. We'll be out of here as soon as we can." Kicks stood, pulling me up with him. "Just point us in the right direction and we'll do what we need and get going."

Fifo, the California guide, was standing on his porch as we walked up. If alphas were genetically inclined to be attractive, guides seemed to be on the other end of the spectrum. It wasn't so much that he was ugly, just an odd-looking little man. His nose was easily twice the size of what would be considered normal, and his eyes specks in comparison. He nodded to us both and then ushered us into his home in an overly jovial way.

I wasn't sure if he'd been assigned to this house or if he'd chosen it, but everything about the place was a shock to the system when compared to Jaysa's dark cabin. The windows ran floor to ceiling, and although they had drapes on either side, they weren't drawn. Plants lined the walls, big, tropical-looking things that filled the air with a fresh, clean scent.

"This is quite beautiful," I said.

"Did you think I'd choose a black hole just for theatrics?" He laughed softly. "Jaysa was a hack. She needed all the bells and whistles to scare people into thinking she was mightier than she was." He turned to Kicks. "Would you mind giving us some time alone? Some conversations are easier one on one."

Kicks looked at me.

"Go ahead. I'll be fine." It wasn't a line. There was something about the energy around Fifo that put me immediately at ease.

"I'll be waiting nearby," Kicks said, then left.

Fifo walked to the couch and sat. "Please join me?"

The couch wasn't that big. Did he really want me to sit that close to him?

I took a tentative step, but then paused, as if to be certain.

"Come," he said, patting the seat.

I did, and there were only a couple of feet between us. "You're not afraid of me?"

"I'm a guide. I can sense a threat, and you are not one." He gave me a kindly smile.

He could? I couldn't. He'd called Jaysa a hack. Maybe I'd gotten bad magic?

"There aren't many of our kind, and never one such as you before," Fifo said. "I think it best if you tell me what happened slowly, walk me through everything, even your life before."

"Before I was turned into this?" I wasn't sure I should call myself a guide anymore, considering I wasn't sure what was happening to me.

"Yes. From what you remember of your childhood and also of your parents. No human has ever had a guide's gift transferred to them, so I think we should start as early as you can remember. We didn't know it was possible. Now tell me about your life. What's been happening?"

I ran through most of it, which, up until recently, wouldn't have shocked most. It hadn't been a perfect life, but nothing out of the ordinary.

He nodded, asking follow-up questions here and there. Some of them seemed more nosy than meaningful, but I went along with it until there wasn't much left to be dissected.

"So no missing members in the family tree you know of?" he asked.

"My father was mostly absent, but not missing," I said. "I really don't know much of his lineage, though, so hard to say if there was someone missing in the tree."

He nodded. "I have a theory on why ten percent of humankind lived. It can't be proven, at least not now with our limited abilities, so I hesitate to share it often, but I think, given your position, I should tell you. It might help to unravel this situation a bit if I'm correct. At this point, you realize that this world is full of creatures and races you might not have suspected existed."

"I didn't know for sure, but yes, I'm coming to realize that." After all, if there were shifters, there had to be others.

"Shifters had a loss, but only about half, where humans nearly got wiped out. I believe that the ten percent of humankind who survived had genetics from other races that allowed them to make it past what happened on Death Day. That anyone who did survive has some sort of other DNA in them."

"You're saying I have some sort of shifter bloodline in my family tree? I didn't think shifters could have children with humans."

"I believe you're correct, but it has happened," he said, excitement in his eyes, as if he'd been dying to share this information with me. "And it might not be just shifter blood. Every creature you've read or heard about has some basis in reality, and it's been very common for them to dabble with humans. Even if only one mating in a thousand produces offspring, with billions of people over thousands of years, that adds up. After all, many human genetic changes started with a single mutation in one person that was beneficial."

"Would that affect what I might be able to do as a guide?" Was that why I could see the dead? Was this magic interacting with something in me that got all jumbled up?

He stared at my hands that were clenched in my lap. It was a position I now found myself in more often than not. "May I touch you? I'd like to see if I can get a read off your energy."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable—considering, you know…"

His hands hovered near mine. "I'm not concerned. This might help give you answers, and you won't kill me."

"Are you just saying that, or do you somehow know that?" I asked. I wasn't sure I'd believe him even if he said he was sure.

"I've seen myself in visions beyond this moment. You won't kill me."

Visions? He got visions and I got dead people? Talk about getting screwed.

"If you're sure." If this guy dropped in front of me, it would be pretty damning. How many times could someone die around me before the packs all put a hit out on me?

Still, I'd come here for his help. If he insisted this was the way, how could I decline whatever he asked? He knew the risks. Could see how terrified I was, and yet he still wanted me to do this.

I held out my hands. He didn't hesitate and grabbed both.

An immediate connection flowed through our grip, and I yanked my hands back, jumping from the seat. I waited for a sign of his imminent death, cursing that I'd allowed him to convince me this was a good idea.

He sat calmly, watching me.

"I'm unharmed," he said after a few moments had passed.

"What was the feeling? There was a surge between us."

"We're both guides of the pack. We are connected because of this. Our energy levels run stronger and beyond what is normal, so when we touch, there is a sharing of sorts. That is why I need to connect with you to get a sense of what is happening." He motioned to the spot beside him again. "Please, it's all right."

He still hadn't convulsed or turned gray. Maybe he did know what he was doing?

I sat beside him again and slowly reached out. I tried to act as calm as he seemed, but there was no way he couldn't see the trembling in my fingers.

"Be at peace. You will not harm me." He gently sandwiched my hands between his, and that same scary flow of energy commenced.

Calm. Stay calm. If I feared—

No, don't even let your thoughts go that way. Don't invite them into your brain where they could—

I was doing it again. Forget focusing on staying calm. I had to keep my brain empty.

I hadn't realized I'd squinted my eyes closed until I found myself curious about what was happening. Fifo's grip was still warm and strong.

I opened my eyes to slits, as if only seeing a tiny bit of him dying would lessen the terror. His eyes were completely closed, but his skin was still a healthy hue.

I opened my eyes fully, finding myself transfixed by his expression. His head was tilted back and his lips were parted, as if he were in some sort of meditative state.

After a few minutes, I wondered how long we would do this. After ten minutes, I began to wonder if this was normal. Did I speak to him? If I startled him, would it trigger something? A bad chain reaction? What if I got jolted and he did something to frighten me, and then I killed him?

After another ten minutes sitting there, I was fidgeting in my seat. Did I rip my hands away? What was he doing? What was he sensing?

"Fifo?" I whispered, then stared hard for a sign he'd heard me.

His eyes might've squeezed shut a bit tighter, but I wasn't sure. It wasn't enough of a movement to be a real reaction. Maybe his eyes were itchy?

"Fifo?" I spoke louder this time.

He took in a gasp of breath and his eyes shot open. It was jarring enough that I tugged my hands back, just to be on the safe side.

He looked physically normal, but he stared at me with a strange look.

"You speak to the dead," he said. It wasn't a question. He knew .

"Are you all right?" I asked, afraid to offer any more details until I was sure he could handle this. It was one thing to talk to the dead. It was another to talk to Death . If he couldn't handle one, he'd never be able to handle the other.

"I'm wonderful. Through you, I was able to speak to some of my deceased family." He hugged me before I could stop him.

I couldn't stand it for more than a few seconds before my nerves got the best of me.

"I have a question, but I need to know this stays completely between us."

"I would never betray the trust of another guide. What did you need to tell me?"

"These deaths that keep occurring around me—"

"I don't know why Zetti passed, but it wasn't you," he said. "Nor the last two."

"How do you know?" I asked. I knew Death had done it, but how did he?

He leaned back, looking more serious. "Death leaves marks upon the people around them, and I can sense from that whether you had any part in their passing. They didn't leave a stain upon you."

"But what if something was channeling what I can do? Is there a way to block that?" I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to appear calm even as my mouth grew dry and my pulse hammered.

"What could channel your gifts?"

As soon as he asked the question, I knew he wasn't going to have any answers on how to rid myself of Death. This trip had been for nothing. I hadn't had much hope, but now it was completely gone.

"I don't know. It just seems odd the way they died," I said. If he couldn't help me, sharing what was happening only opened me up to more problems. It was one thing for him to repeat that I spoke to the dead. It was another if he ever divulged that Death was using me to kill people.

"Be at peace. You didn't kill those people."

"Thank you." I tried to smile, pretending he'd helped, even as I scrambled to figure out what would come next.

I was barely off the stoop when Kicks crossed the street toward me. He motioned toward a small house across the street, then walked into it without knocking.

"Whose house is this?"

"No idea." He shut the door behind us. "Did you get any answers?"

I ran through what Fifo had said, and Kicks didn't look any more relieved than I felt. Although Fifo might've had some interesting theories, in the end he'd been useless to me. Other than thinking I wasn't ultimately responsible for the deaths, he had nothing that was going to fix my situation.

Kicks let out a long sigh. "We'll figure something out," he said, as if to fill the silence.

He didn't look too optimistic, and I definitely wasn't. There was only one thing left to do. It was time to cut ties before the situation got worse. I wouldn't do it here, though, and I wasn't going to slink off in the middle of the night. He deserved a goodbye at the very least.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not stay here tonight. These people don't want me here, and I don't want to be here."

Kicks immediately tensed. "Did someone say something to you?"

"Not at all. I just want out of here." After how Nix had acted, as if he were doing us a favor allowing me here, I didn't want anything from them. I'd rather be sleep deprived than stay here another minute.