Chapter 29

Twenty-Nine

IZZY

H ale’s hands tremble around the coffee mug as he tentatively brings it to his lips.

“Is this about the explosion?” Jake asks, and grief momentarily flickers in his eyes.

I realize with a start that he probably knew Minnie. Was friends with her. He worked there for years, after all.

His anguish is a physical punch to the gut, and I reach across the couch to take his hand in mine. He flashes me a grateful smile and gives my fingers a squeeze.

“What happened was a tragedy—” Gerry begins.

“Did they say what caused it?” I interrupt.

God, that poor girl. She was only a few years older than I am and had her whole life ripped away from her. Did she have a family? Friends? A significant other? The twins mentioned that their sister knew her. Who else is currently mourning her death?

It could’ve been me, or Jake, or Silas, or Reid who died.

Hell, it could’ve been all of us, if the explosion happened even a few hours later.

The realization is like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

“They’ll look into it,” Hale assures us, reaching upwards to ruffle his salt-and-pepper hair. The strands are a little longer than they were the last time I saw him, almost as if he hasn’t gotten them cut in a while. “They think it could be a gas line explosion.”

“What was Minnie even doing there so early?” Jake asks.

“They don’t know for sure, but they suspect she left something behind. Went back early to retrieve it.”

I suck in a sharp gasp.

Didn’t I plan to return before school began to grab my forgotten backpack? Sweat trickles down my spine, and my hands feel clammy. A lead weight drops into the pit of my stomach, sluicing the meager contents around.

“But that’s not what we want to talk to you guys about,” Gerry interrupts, once again steering the conversation back on track. He leans forward to run his hands up and down his thighs. The leather crinkles, the sound ominously loud in the suddenly taut silence. “There’s a lot you two don’t know about this world. About yourselves.”

“I know…some,” I tentatively venture, flicking my gaze towards Jake.

He just appears confused, his brows drawn together.

“Know some of what?” The blond quarterback cocks his head to the side like a curious dog.

I ignore him for the time being and refocus on Gerry and Hale. “I know about the supernatural. About wolf shifters and vampires and witches?—”

“Okay. Okay. I get it.” Jake rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Is this your attempt at a joke? Because it’s not funny or appropriate, considering the situation.”

Hale blows out a haggard breath and scrubs a hand down his face. The lines bracketing his eyes appear even deeper than usual, more pronounced. Has he been sleeping? I swear those dark smudges weren’t there prior…

“It’s not a joke, Jake. There’s an entire world that you don’t know about?—”

“Knock it the fuck off.” Jake stands abruptly, his hands balling into fists. Rage distorts his handsome face into something unrecognizable. “My friend just died, and you really think now is the time to mess with me?”

“Sit down, Jake,” Gerry instructs.

“No! You can’t just?—”

“Jake!” Gerry’s eyes flash amber, the color almost luminescent in the dimly lit living room.

My breath stalls at the sight, and Jake’s face drains of all color.

Slowly—never taking his eyes off of Gerry—Jake sits back on the couch beside me, a tremor reverberating through him.

“What the fuck?” he whispers, shock and horror mingling in his voice.

“I don’t really know where to start this conversation—” Hale begins.

“How about the beginning?” I snap.

Hale blanches at my tone but nods once in understanding. “Right. Of course.”

He blows out another breath, and in that one sound, I can hear everything he doesn’t say out loud. All of his fear and anger and confusion. They meld together until I can’t differentiate one emotion from the other.

“The truth is…the four of you didn’t come to our home by accident.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jake demands, leaning forward.

Hale and Gerry exchange an indecipherable glance, but it’s Hale who continues speaking, his expression grave. “Amanda Highland finds kids who are…different and brings them to us.”

A thread of trepidation unfurls in my chest. “Different how?”

In answer, Hale stands and shakily begins undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Jake’s nose immediately scrunches in disgust. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Proving this to you,” Hale snaps, his tone frostier than I ever remember hearing it. “You won’t listen to everything I have to say if you continue to think we’re full of shit.”

“Why are you stripping?” Jake asks, incredulous.

I look away when Hale pulls down his pants, but Jake continues to stare, wide-eyed and confused. His lips part in a silent O.

And then he gasps out loud, his entire face whitening until it’s practically the color of the walls. I turn back just in time to see that Hale has been replaced by a huge, furry, brown wolf. His tongue lolls to the side as he cocks his head at us.

“No. No. No. This can’t be fucking happening. Did I accidentally eat some pot brownies?” Jake mutters as he shakes his head rapidly from side to side, trying to dislodge the image before us.

Hale whines and places his huge head down on his paws.

Trying to make himself smaller, I realize. Less threatening.

There’s a sort of keen intelligence in the beast’s eyes that lets me know Hale’s still inside of there. He hasn’t been completely consumed by the wolf.

A part of me wants to reach forward and pet him—the fur between his ears looks incredibly soft—but shock holds me immobile. I’ve known about the supernatural world for days now, but seeing it in person? That’s something else entirely. I can barely get a breath out through my shriveling lungs.

“I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?” Jake whispers to me.

His face hasn’t yet regained the color it lost.

“If you are, then I am too,” I respond dazedly.

“Maybe it’s a mass hallucination.”

“You’re not hallucinating,” Gerry says as Hale trots around the corner, his discarded pants in his mouth.

There’s a shift in the air, almost like an electrical current that causes goose bumps to form on my arms, and then Hale returns, buttoning up his pants. Gerry throws him his shirt, and Hale takes it gratefully, pulling it over his broad shoulders.

“Shifters exist,” Hale says candidly, “as do a plethora of other supernatural creatures. Gerry and I…” He exchanges another unreadable look with his husband. “We find children who may have been lost in the foster care system, and we gradually help them adjust to our world.”

“I’m not… I’m not like that,” Jake says, shaking his head. A strand of blond hair flops in front of his face, and he brushes it away with a shaky hand. “I’m not… I can’t… I can’t turn into a wolf or anything. You’re wrong about me.”

“Jake, how did your family die?” Gerry asks.

The abrupt change in subject causes me to jerk upright, alarm careening through me.

Jake tenses. “How… What… Why does that matter?”

“There was a car accident when you were a boy, wasn’t there?” Gerry continues, his eyes holding Jake’s hostage. “Your father and grandparents died, but you and your mom survived.”

“Yes—” Jake swallows. His breathing has begun to turn ragged, shallow spurts of air that escape through chapped lips.

“But your mom committed suicide shortly after, correct?” Gerry presses.

I don’t know where he’s going with this line of questioning, but I hate the anguish I can feel emanating off of Jake in almost tangible waves.

“Is this really necessary?” I demand, protectiveness roaring through me.

Gerry turns sad eyes in my direction. “I wish it wasn’t, kiddo, but it’s time Jake knew the truth.”

“I don’t understand!” Jake throws his hands up in the air. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“Your mom mentioned you in her suicide note, did she not?” Gerry continues, his tone gentle despite his callous words. “She said you were a mistake, an abomination.”

Jake opens and closes his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. I reach for my foster brother and wrap my arms around him, desperate to quell his pain, desperate to hold him together. I hate seeing him like this. And I hate Gerry and Hale for poking at old wounds that haven’t seemed to heal.

“We’re not saying this to hurt you, Jake,” Hale whispers, his voice choked. “We just need you to understand.”

“Understand what?” Jake grasps my arms almost desperately, as if he’s afraid that if he were to release me, I’ll float away and be lost forever.

“You died in that car accident, kid.” Gerry’s voice drips with sympathy. “Your mother made a deal with a witch to bring you back. But…nobody can bring the dead back to life. Not truly. That magic has been lost for centuries now.”

Jake’s already shaking his head before Gerry has even finished speaking. I don’t know if he’s protesting the older man’s words or something else entirely, but his body trembles and convulses in my arms. All I can do is hold him even tighter, even closer, and rub my hand up and down his back in what I hope is comfort.

“The witch created a vessel out of clay and implanted it with Jake’s memories. Have you ever noticed that you never get hurt? Never bleed? That you’re stronger and faster than the average human?” Hale asks.

“No.” It’s a broken whisper.

“You’re what the supernatural world calls a golem, Jake. You’re not…” Hale swallows. “You’re not alive. You died back in that car accident. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”