 
# Sleepwalker

## Harbinger #1

## Claire Farrell

# Contents

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Books by Claire Farrell:

# Introduction

Sleepwalker (Harbinger #1)

_Although this trilogy can standalone, you might prefer to read the Cursed series first to find out more about the secondary characters. If not, keep reading._

Margo's got a secret—she just doesn't understand what it is. But if she doesn't figure things out soon, she could jeopardise her family's fresh start.

Dorian's a weak wolf in a dominant pack, and if he doesn't find a way to be noticed, he could be separated from his beloved guardians to make room for a younger shifter once he turns eighteen.

Two teenagers are running out of time when a string of murders drags them into danger. If they team up, they might find the murderer—unless he finds them first.
**Copyright © Claire Farrell**

**clairefarrellauthor@gmail.com**

Book cover provided by NA Studio Design

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**Licence Notes**

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All Rights Reserved.

# Prologue

At midnight, the child's eyes opened wide in her darkened bedroom. Ice-blue and unseeing, her glassy pupils shone—and yet reflected nothing. She climbed out of bed to stand before the floor-length window, her lips pressed together in a hard, determined line. Her thin arms rose as though in silent command, and a gust of something ancient and primal crept across the room as though unsure if it had really been invoked by something so small. The lock on the window opened, witnessed only by the shadows enveloping the room. The window slowly creaked open, allowing the sharp winter wind to invade.

Bare-footed, her tiny form climbed out of the window before sliding down the drain-pipe without hesitation, friction leaving burns on her palms and knees that she wouldn't feel until morning. Unseen, she strode across the landscaped garden at the back of her home, the wind whipping at her pale legs as she crushed a solitary budding snowdrop beneath her feet.

The moon broke through the clouds for an instant, highlighting the messy white-blond pair of plaits that hung down her back and almost reached her waist. The child kept walking, steady against the battering wind that threatened to knock her over. Dampened by smatterings of rain, her pink nightdress clung to her body, the faded print still valiantly displaying a unicorn that smiled eerily in the darkness.

Leaving her home behind, she walked along the road toward her destination, no street-lamps guiding her way through the suffocating darkness. Fearless, the child followed a path she had taken before—a well-trodden farmer's track through a frost-covered field, and then another less-taken path through the woods. The wind howled, and brittle twigs snapped underfoot, but nocturnal animals fell silent as she passed, disturbed by her presence. Nature knew she was there and wanted no part of it.

She came out of the woods at a graveyard, and it was there that her determined stride finally slowed. The girl reached the church gates where she reverently waited as they swung open in welcome. The aching hinges creaked louder than the wailing wind which, come morning, would have been transformed by the superstitious into a story of the banshee's warning.

The girl stepped onto hallowed ground, and her shoulders visibly relaxed. Her arms swung as though her body had been uplifted with joy. She walked past row after row of headstones until she reached a fresh mound of dirt. There, she sank to her knees, her fingers reaching into the soil. _Finally_.

"Margo!" a woman's voice frantically screamed, the word almost lost to the wind.

The child heard nothing but the hypnotic call of her heritage.

A man and woman raced through the graveyard toward the little girl. After tripping over a headstone, the woman fell to her knees then drew her daughter onto her lap. The man caught up, shrugging off his coat. He wrapped it around them both.

"Oh, Margo, not again," the woman murmured, holding the girl to her chest. She looked up at her husband. "She's ice-cold."

_She's always cold._ "Let's take her home." He cast a surreptitious glance toward the village. "Before someone sees."

"How did _she_ see? How does she make it all the way here in the dark?"

An old question, one he was sick of trying to answer. "I don't know." He knelt to rub the child's feet, brushing away dirt and who knew what else. "She's bleeding."

He helped his wife up, but the child mewled like a kitten, her hands reaching for the grave.

The woman shivered as she battled with her daughter, trying in vain to warm her up. The girl's struggle grew frenzied, knocking the coat away. The man gripped her hands and shushed his daughter.

"It's time to go home, Margo," he said, his words faltering as she gazed at nothing over his shoulder.

She was lost in her own world, and he would never be allowed to enter. He refused to look at the grave, refused to see how far his tiny daughter had gone this time. She'd never been like other children, and he knew people were talking. Her night-time adventures had to end before he lost her forever. He lifted her into his arms along with the coat, holding her as tight as possible. She kicked ineffectually, unable to free herself. Soon, she would be too strong to restrain, but _this_ episode was almost over, and that was all he could focus on.

The couple snuck their daughter out of the graveyard, ducking behind a wall as the glare from a passing car's headlights almost blinded them.

He blew hot air onto his daughter's hands as they waited for the car to drive out of sight. She smelled like damp earth, and his heart cracked as she fought him off without even looking in his direction. She half-leapt out of his arms, but his wife caught her before she dashed back to the grave. She refused to let her go again.

And he stared out into the darkness and ignored the lump in his throat.

"They're gone," he said at last. "Let's get home."

"Why does she keep doing this?" His wife's voice broke. _"Why_?"

"She's sleepwalking." He firmly guided his family away from the graveyard, avoiding the child's shortcuts. "She wasn't treated well before we found her. Maybe this is related to some kind of, I don't know, latent trauma from the orphanage. We'll likely never know for sure."

"But why here, of all places? I told you we should have kept her in our room tonight. There was a funeral yesterday. It happens every time."

"I thought I locked the windows." He frowned, digging into his pocket to find the tiny key he knew he had hidden there. "I can't figure out how she opens them without this."

"And her eyes?" she whispered. "Changing colour like that? What's wrong with _them_?"

"It's something to do with the sleepwalking," he said reassuringly. "And the darkness. It's an illusion. A trick of the light."

"Every inch of me goes cold when I see her eyes like that."

"Hon, it isn't her fault. She won't remember in the morning. It'll be over. We have to keep doing what the therapist said. We'll get through this."

"I know it's not her fault." She ran her hand lovingly over her daughter's hair, holding her closer. "I just wish we could help her."

"We will," he said. "Right now, all we can do is love her. But maybe it's time we considered something other than therapy."

As the graveyard fell out of sight, the child stretched her hand out to the darkness, desperate to find what she had been looking for.

The boy curled up into a ball as a frenzy of blows rained down on his back. His head pounded, and his heart raced, but he didn't dare lift his head. He didn't understand the words shouted at him, but it never mattered. He existed to feel pain, to bear the brunt of everything that went wrong.

One of the girls giggled from the corner. "He wet himself!"

The caretaker made a sound of rage. She kicked the back of his head until he grew dizzy. She was old; she'd tire soon. The secret wolf inside would protect him for a little while longer, and then everyone would be safe for a few days.

Half-conscious, he was barely aware of the door opening and the presence of new people, unfamiliar scents.

A man's voice raised in anger. A slammed door. A cry of fear. The boy slowly realised that the beating had stopped, and his wolf had retreated back into its hiding place. He opened his eyes, or at least, one of them. The other was too swollen.

The old woman was cowering in the corner, trying to look as small and vulnerable as possible. He froze. Somebody worse had come. Maybe the pain would stop for good this time. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

But gentle hands lifted him and gathered him against a firm chest. He shivered and shook, terrified of doing the wrong thing. Sometimes his fear was what they wanted; sometimes even that wasn't enough.

"Hey," a soft voice said. "Look at me." The stranger spoke in unbroken English, something the old woman would struggle to understand. That would make her angry if she wasn't so scared.

Trained to obey, the boy lifted his gaze to the one holding him. For the first time he could remember, he made full eye contact and was met with a pair of brown eyes. Kind eyes filled with things he didn't understand.

"Are you all right?" The kind eyes belonged to the soft voice. There was no trickery in the words, no anger, only concern.

The boy shook for a new reason now; he didn't understand compassion, having never experienced it. He felt odd in his tummy, as though insects crawled inside him, but not the kind he usually felt, the ones that threatened to eat him from the inside out. This was different. This was new. The wolf was buried deep again, well away from those who would strike at the sight of it, but even _it_ whimpered. The angry voice seemed so far off now.

"What's your name?" Again, words spoken confusingly gently.

What _was_ his name? Worthless? Good-for-nothing? Were those names?

"He doesn't have a name," the girl who'd laughed said in a breathless sort of voice. That was odd. She never feared anything. "He's nobody."

The kind eyes glistened with a familiar fierceness. That made the boy relax. He understood anger.

"He's somebody," the man said gruffly.

Maybe he had died already because nothing made sense anymore.

The angry voice came closer. "Almost a dozen this time. How can they live like this after everything they've been offered?"

"They don't know any better, but I never imagined it would be like this. I'm taking this one with me," the kind voice said. "I think his leg is broken."

"We're supposed to be looking for werewolves, not children."

The boy couldn't look away from the kind man's face to see the other. He had to study the first, to remember him for always.

"Any of them could turn wolf when they're old enough. Besides, this one is different. Even if he wasn't, we can't just leave him here. This is a dumping ground."

"It's a mess. I'll deal with it, but it'll take time to organise."

"Which is why I need to act now."

The angry one sighed. "Looks like he's been badly abused, but the others are in much better condition. Maybe that means something."

"Something like Amelia?"

"Perhaps. I have to take care of things here. If you take him, you'll be responsible for him. Are you sure you want to do this? Will _she_?"

Kindness looked down on the boy and smiled. "I'm not leaving him behind." Angry voice melted away along with the sounds of crying and pleading in the background. "It's okay, kid. You're safe now. I promise. I'm taking you home."

Hot tears rolled down the boy's cheeks, but oddly enough, the shaking finally stopped.

# Chapter 1

_M argo_

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I only realised I was staring into space when a teenage boy loudly cleared his throat right next to me. Practically jumping right out of my skin, I promptly dropped my bag of groceries then watched in dismay as the contents spilled onto the road.

"Damn it." I bent to save a loaf of bread from being squashed by a car. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry." He knelt next to me on the street. "I'll pick them up."

I glanced at him. He looked close to my age, his cheeks naturally flushed and covered with freckles from being outside. And people back home thought Dubliners never left their houses. "Thanks, but I have it."

He stopped reaching for the milk that thankfully hadn't exploded and leaned back to watch me scramble for the rest of the food. The corners of his light brown eyes crinkled with humour, but there was wariness there, too. I was used to that, lately. "You know, there are better things to look at around here."

I shot a quick glance at the empty field I had been ogling. Embarrassingly, I had no idea how long I had zoned out. Even worse, I had less of a clue _where_ I was. What kind of idiot got lost on the way back from the local shop?

"I'm sure there is." I straightened, desperately trying to remember how I had gotten to the field.

The boy stood, too, staring at me as though he were trying to figure something out. Unnervingly, he didn't even try to hide the fact he was gaping at me. That, I wasn't used to.

I pulled my beanie lower over my left ear just to give my free hand something to do. "Um, any idea where Hazelwood Avenue is?"

He pointed across the road. "Second turn left, then take the next right. Just after Hazelwood Drive." He grinned, and I couldn't tell if he was mocking me. "If you hit Hazelwood Terrace, you've gone too far."

"Thanks." I looked back at the field and narrowed my eyes. If I could just figure out what triggered my little dazes...

"You can't go over there," the boy said gruffly.

I looked at him in surprise before realising I had taken a few steps toward the field without even noticing. Rattled, I took a step toward the boy instead. He automatically took two steps back. _Right_. "Because you say so?" I said more harshly than I intended.

He folded his arms across his chest, an odd look on his face. "Because it's private property."

My cheeks warmed. Of course that's what he meant. "Second left then a right. Got it." I sprinted across the road, earning myself a beep from a passing car.

"Wait!" the boy called out. "Do you live around here?"

"Just moved in!" I waved, desperate to get away. Without my best friend doing all the talking, I was apparently incapable of even holding a conversation with another human being.

Then again, I had bigger problems. Figuring out where I now lived being one of them.

The road I had just crossed was large enough to be one of the main routes out of town, but I had been outside a tiny corner shop on a narrow road—I checked my watch— _thirty_ minutes ago. Probably not long enough for my parents to worry, but still a scary amount of time to mentally check out.

"See you around!" the boy shouted.

His accent was odd. Definitely not Irish, never mind from Dublin. His wasn't the first voice that had stood out to me all day. Maybe my strong Wexford accent wouldn't be so noticeable in my new school. I took one final glance over my shoulder. He was standing there, staring at the empty field, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Maybe there wasn't anything better to look at after all.

I followed his directions and tried to place myself, wondering if he had been joking when each turn I took led me to what looked like the exact same row of houses. But finally, I caught sight of the familiar moving van parked outside our new house. I hurried over then stepped through the hip-sized gate—and the tiny square of grass that apparently qualified as a garden—and gazed up at our ugly new house in disgust.

My parents came outside, laughing together as they made another furniture run. They looked like two halves of a whole, fitting together perfectly because they knew each other's steps so well. Mam's dark brown curls kept flying in front of her glasses. Dad's hair was speckled grey, the brown rapidly losing the fight to age, but it somehow suited him. Their fingers were entwined, and a different kind of regret seeped into my chest. They put on a good show, but if it weren't for me, they'd still be in their old comfortable lives, secure in the knowledge they had permanent work and friends to fall back on. I had ruined everything, and if I didn't figure out what the hell was wrong with me soon, then I'd probably do it again.

Mam caught me looking miserable and let go of Dad to pull me into a hug. I had been taller than her since my thirteenth birthday, and had outgrown Dad by half an inch by my sixteenth, but her favourite citrus scent reminded me of home, so I leaned into her like a small child seeking comfort.

"Margo, it's not so bad." She pulled back to take a good look at my face. "I know you'll miss home, but you'll have everything you need here. And I promise you that it's quiet, not exactly bustling."

"There are ten houses squashed into the space of our old garden," I said wryly.

That didn't blow the wind out of her sails for long. "Right, but! There's a hospital and a brand new shopping centre not far from here. And a cinema with more than one screen! We don't even really need a car with all of the buses in and out. And the school's not so much bigger than your old one when you really think about it. And even if it is, look at it this way, you'll have so many more friends to choose from."

Wishful thinking. I couldn't even get directions without alienating people. "But the garden is tiny." I bit on my lip. Our old garden had been my dad's pride and joy. I hated the thought of somebody else digging around in it, ruining his work. And we didn't even have anything to replace it with. What was he going to do now?

"It'll be less work," Dad, ever the optimist, said with a wink, passing us to get to the moving van.

I gazed after him, wondering if he resented me deep down. "Most of the houses look exactly the same. If I hadn't seen the moving van outside, I wouldn't have found my way back from the corner shop." I decided not to mention I actually got lost and instead held up the shopping bag full of bread, deli meat, butter, milk, and teabags. "But at least they were open."

"See?" Mam said. "Convenience." She checked her watch. "Back home, the shop would have been closed for the day already."

"Wow," I said. "You found _one_ pro."

She kissed my cheek then moved on.

"How was your walk?" Dad asked as he carried a trunk toward the house.

I followed him with the shopping. "Well, at the shop, a little girl screamed that I was a ghost, and a Neanderthal of a teenage boy tried to call me an albino but managed to make up a brand new word instead. I'm pretty sure they have more than their fair share of idiot in the gene pool here."

"See?" Dad said with a grin. "You're already meeting new people. That wouldn't have happened back home."

I headed into the kitchen and shouted over my shoulder, "That's a bit hard when you've already met everyone."

And I didn't know how to make friends with people I hadn't known since playschool. Even back in our tiny village where everyone knew each other's business, I'd had few friends. Less now.

I put on the kettle and started on tea and sandwiches for my parents and myself. The house was fine. The area was fine. And apart from some idiots, I was sure the people were fine. But it wasn't home, and that was all on me.

Making a fresh start wasn't as easy as it sounded. I'd always stood out in the wrong ways—even the leader of my drama group had done his best to put me in the back to avoid notice, but I'd grown taller than everyone. With hair so blond, it was almost white, eyes such a pale grey, they were almost colourless, and parents who looked nothing like me, I had never fit in a comfortable box for anyone. But I could have outlasted the rumours. I was used to people whispering behind my back. It was when they started in on my parents that it grew harder to stomach.

Mam stepped into the kitchen, wiping her brow. Her hair had been tied back in a messy bun. I noticed a couple of new silver strands at the sides. "Oh, great, you already started. I'm parched." She stretched. "And exhausted."

"You have too much stuff," I remarked. "Clutter queen."

She grinned. "It's hard to know what I'll want to keep. Imagine if I look for something in ten years and then remember we threw it out when we moved."

I stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea. "I can guarantee you it won't be a Christmas decoration I made out of an egg carton at the age of four."

"Then you don't know me at all." She patted my back. "I'll finish up. You go make your father take a break. He might actually listen to you."

I found Dad in my new bedroom, trying in vain to install my old lampshade. My peach-chested lovebirds squawked angrily in the corner, irritated by all of the disruption. They were super into each other's company, and they had just become my only friends.

"It's not going to fit," I said from the doorway. "Nothing fits here."

Dad looked at me, his façade dropping momentarily. "I know you're not happy, Margo, but this was for the best. We needed a fresh start."

The unfairness of it all burned in my chest. "Dad, I swear I did nothing wrong."

" _I_ know you didn't." He gave up on the lampshade and stepped off the stool.

I looked away. Even the therapist they'd sent me to claimed I was attention-seeking. He had to doubt sometimes.

"Margo, look at me. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Your mother and I aren't blaming you for any of it."

"Then why am I being punished?" I heard the whine in my voice and cringed. Inside my head, I had words that sounded reasonable and mature, but as soon as I opened my mouth, a four-year-old started crying.

"The last thing we're trying to do is punish you." He squeezed my shoulder. "You know what people are like. How they push. They got at you until you snapped. Everything would have kept escalating. You screaming at your principal in front of the entire school was about as far as I was willing to watch it go."

"I _know_ I overheard her badmouthing you," I began, but he held up his hand to stop me.

"You don't have to fight our battles for us. Think of it this way. Water finds its own level. If grown men and women want to whisper behind my back then they were never the sorts of people I would want to associate with. They obviously weren't our friends, so why should I care what they think?"

"You cared enough to move."

"Cared about _you_. We're a family, Margo. A team. Your mother and I have only ever wanted the best for you. That's our job, to give you the best life we possibly can. Anyone who thinks otherwise shouldn't be a parent." He pressed his lips together, a flicker of anger burning in his eyes. "Why should my little girl suffer because a couple of superstitious adults decided it was their place to judge our family?"

My fingers closed into fists. "They should never have said anything about you. _I'm_ the freak."

"You're not a freak. We all have our quirks, things others don't or won't understand. A real community would have supported you, helped you. But those people showed their true colours, and your mother and I decided they weren't worth knowing. _That's_ why we moved."

I blinked back some tears. No matter how angry I felt at the people who had driven us out of town, the fact they didn't want us saddened me all the more. "They would have forgotten after a while."

"But I wouldn't," he said softly. "Your mother and I have been dealing with your sleepwalking for years, but it's unsettling for someone who has no experience. I can understand that much. But for the small-minded few... they had a field day with the gossip, and those who listened were just as bad as those who spoke. There's no going back from that. I could never bring myself to smile at any of those people gain."

"It's just so unfair, Dad." Frustration sent fresh tears to my eyes. "I thought it was all over, that I was better. It hadn't happened for ages."

"But then it did." The lines around his eyes creased. "Finding a young girl asleep on the side of a road in her nightdress is not something a small village forgets. They _wanted_ to see the worst in you, but that says more about them than you."

"I didn't hurt the dog." Except I couldn't say that for sure. I bit the inside of my mouth. I couldn't remember leaving my house—only that I had woken up to the elderly couple next door gazing down at me in horror. My hands had been bloody, and a dog had been dead next to me. At first, the neighbours had assumed I was the one who had been hurt; they called the police. By mid-morning, everyone in the village knew that Margo Harding was a weirdo at best, and a probable psycho dog-murderer besides. Leaving felt like running away, almost as though it were an admittance of guilt.

"Of course you didn't hurt the dog. The poor creature practically lived with us half the time, the neighbours let him roam so much," he said softly. "But people as a rule like to focus on the faults of others, imagined or otherwise. And if I'd heard one more whispered comment, I might have loafed someone."

A giggle erupted from my lips. My dad was the ultimate softy. "No, you wouldn't."

"Then I would have been forced to hold your mother back, and you know how strong she is." He grinned, and I suddenly felt ten times better. "Is it break time yet?"

I nodded. "That's why I came looking for you."

"Great." He nodded at the discarded lampshade. "Let's bin that and put a new one on the shopping list." He escorted me toward the kitchen.

"So," I said. "Since I've had such a tough time of it and all, and the school term's already started, I might as well stay home for a bit. You know, to recover."

It was his turn to laugh. "As if, my love. As if."

In the kitchen, we ate together, all three of us, and for a while it felt as though we really were back home, as though the surroundings had never mattered at all.

There was just one problem. We'd been run out of our village because of my sleepwalking, and no doctor I had ever seen could tell us why it happened in the first place. Sleepwalking was one thing, discovering dead animals quite another. If I didn't find a way to stop my sleepwalking for good, I would ruin my parents' lives for a second time. I needed answers, but I had no idea where to start.

# Chapter 2

_D orian_

* * *

I watched the girl walk away, the buckles on her knee-high green Docs clinking in rhythm with her stride. Great first impression I'd just made. _"You can't go over there."_ I couldn't have acted more suspicious if I tried. She'd merely looked at pack property, but the wolf had flared to life as though it couldn't tell the difference between a pretty girl and an enemy trying to steal our territory. She'd had an odd aura though, something that made me want to step away—made me curious, too. She was maybe seventeen, and she hadn't smelled like a shifter, but goose bumps were still sticking up on my arms from her scent.

I shoved my hands into my pockets to hide the trembling in my fingers. Little shivers ran up and down my back. The wolf was freaked out. I turned to look at the empty field to settle my nerves. It was a boring, empty field, full of scents that only a werewolf sense of smell would ever pick up, so why had she spent the last twenty minutes or so staring at it?

Then again, I'd spent almost as long staring at _her_.

I wandered home, the incident playing on my mind the entire time. When I got back, Mara and Victor were waiting impatiently by the front gates. Her hands were curled into tight fists, so I guessed he had been bothering her again.

She looked me over, her Nordic blue eyes narrowing. "Where the hell are the snacks?"

I glanced at my empty hands. "Oh."

"You're so bloody useless," Victor snapped. "What is he even here for?"

"To make idiots like you look better," Mara said sweetly before elbowing him in the ribs. "Seriously though, Dor. You had one job."

"I'll go back." I wished I could disappear right there and then. "I just bumped into someone and got distracted and—"

"Eric?" Victor asked eagerly, his face lighting up.

I shook my head. Eric had up and left in the middle of the night recently—out of the blue—which was weird because he'd seemed pretty happy about being invited to stay on in Dublin for good with the main pack. Victor's reaction surprised me though. They had never been close. I didn't think he'd care if Eric were around or not.

"Well, everybody else is here," Victor said. "So enough with the bullshit excuses."

"I'm sorry." The apology was automatic.

"It's not the first time," Mara said wryly. "Your head is in the clouds. Make yourself useful."

She said it harshly, but she meant it kindly. There wasn't enough room for all of us to stay when we reached eighteen, and only the useful, well-adjusted werewolves would get to stick around to help with rehabilitating lost kids like Mara and me or the traumatised werewolves who had lived wild. The rest of us would be sent to a new compound in Europe run by the alpha's son. Mara was sure I wouldn't last out there—not without my guardians to protect me.

"Forget about it," Victor said brusquely. "I'll ask Dom for a lift and get the food myself." He shook his freshly-shaved head and left.

Mara looked me over. I was a foot taller than her, but I felt about two inches tall when she looked at me like that. "What am I going to do with you, Dorian?"

I rubbed my arms, feeling itchy under her gaze. "Stop."

She growled softly.

" _Please_."

"Come on then," she said with a sigh. "Let's go face the music."

"Nah." I shrugged. "Think I'll just be alone for a bit."

"You're part of the pack," she persisted. "And this is pack day. You have to be there. Don't you dare let anyone forget you exist."

I followed her in case my absence was noticed. Victor and Dom were already pulling out of the driveway.

We took a shortcut by my house to the clearing where all of the back gardens had been joined together. A couple of teenagers threw paper cups at me as I passed them. I kept my head down. One cup hit Mara's knee. She instantly whirled around and bared her teeth, throwing a serious amount of aggression and dominance behind the gesture. Nobody dared do anything but lower their gazes. I breathed a sigh of relief. A challenge would just draw the alpha's ire.

The alpha had rented a projector so we could watch a film outside together. Dozens of pack members of different ages and races were already stretched out on blankets, relaxing, waiting for the early evening to turn dark. Many of them were human—mostly parents or siblings of werewolves who had been welcomed by the alpha—but the families tended to stick together. They were less likely to need special care and far more likely to be trusted to live in town.

Most of the higher pack members had taken their places first, and the only spaces left were way off to the far side.

Mara shot one last glare at the group then gestured for me to follow her. I observed the people we passed, noting most of them were too busy casting wary glances at Mara to notice me.

"Mara, over here!" her older roommate Alex called out, using her fingers to comb her light brown hair into a high ponytail. Her nose was crooked from an old injury, her skin covered in numerous scars. Only some of them were self-inflicted. She'd mostly stopped trying to hurt herself once Mara moved in with her.

Alex literally kicked a younger pack member off the corner of her blanket, snatching her bag closer to her as though anyone would even think about stealing it. Mara could be aggressive, but Alex was on another level, always ready to fight first, think later.

She constantly talked about travelling, taking Mara to see the world, but I doubted she'd ever be ready to leave the alpha's care. His will helped all of us cope with pain and bad memories and even madness. He was so steady and reliable that he handled a large, problematic pack with seeming ease, but sometimes I caught flashes of pain, grimaces that told a different story.

Mara squeezed herself onto the smaller space on the blanket. Despite both females being dominant, Mara was able to view Alex's problems as a vulnerability that needed protecting while Alex saw Mara as a younger sibling who needed guidance. Which kept both of them safe from each other.

Alex fixed her gaze on me, her nostrils flaring. I kept walking. Alex was hard to be around, and I wasn't in the mood to be tormented by her throughout the entire film. I spotted my guardians coming out of our house with blankets, but they were so loved up that I didn't want to be the third wheel. I'd find another spot.

Most of us were living on the Evans land temporarily, and as I was the weakest competition, that made me a target. The alpha had forbidden minors from trying to rank themselves, but nobody batted an eye at a little "friendly" practice, so I moved warily through the group.

I spotted a permanent pack member sitting alone and decided he was the safest bet. Ryan wasn't dominant, and he didn't need to torment me to feel better. As part of the alpha's inner circle, his loyalty to him was guaranteed, while many of the people stretched out on the grass complained too often for me to feel entirely comfortable around them.

Ryan's week-old beard looked more silver than ginger, but his amber eyes were still young and alert. He met my gaze. I looked away out of habit.

"Mind if I sit?" I asked, scuffing my feet on the grass.

He slid across the bench. "Plenty of space, lad."

When I sat, I worked up the courage to look at him. "Thanks."

He handed me a drink from the cooler next to him. "Anyone giving you a hard time?"

"Nah." I shrugged when he didn't look convinced. "Nothing more than usual."

He shot me a pitying look, opened his mouth to speak, and then appeared to think better of it. There was nothing he could say. Everyone knew I would end up at the bottom of the pack ladder, and if I didn't think of something soon, I'd be shipped off as soon as I turned eighteen.

I'd been away before. I knew what was out there. No matter how many people picked on me in Dublin, I was far safer with the Evans family than without them. I desperately needed to find a way to make myself useful enough to stay.

# Chapter 3

_M argo_

* * *

I looked at the cover of the magazine on my dresser and picked up a tube of mascara. Dark eyebrows and lashes were in fashion, and my white, almost non-existent hairs were so not. Had they ever been? I went at my eyelashes with a grim determination until they darkened. It was the quickest way to make me look more normal. I glanced at the photoshopped picture again. Flawless bronze skin, full-on contouring, and overlined lips with a perfect pout. I poked at an ancient acne scar on my temple. It might as well have been a flashing sign against my chalky skin. I'd never look like the picture, no matter how hard I tried.

Back home, my best friend and I had tried to dye my hair, first in pastels, and then when that failed, neons. But my hair refused to take the colour. And the mascara would inevitably flake off and make me look like a panda before I got home. I failed hard at everything Girl.

I gave up on makeup, plaited my hair, and then hid under a beanie and a long military coat. "Well, now I just look like a boy," I told my lovebirds who predictably ignored me.

I checked my bag for the fifth time that morning and the clock for the seventeenth. My stomach turned. Almost time to go.

A soft knock on my bedroom door made me jump. I let my phone slip out of my hands and onto the floor. Wincing at the ever widening old cracks on the screen, I shoved the phone in my pocket then opened the door to my dad.

He frowned at my appearance. "Bit early, Margo."

"Oh." I made a face. "I don't want to be late."

"Nervous?"

I shook my head then nodded. "I don't know what to expect. I've never done this before. I can't even remember my first day at school back home, but I already knew everyone by then. What if I get lost or don't know where to go or what if I'm, like, two years behind everyone else, and they think I'm a loser from the sticks who can't—"

He gripped my shoulders. "You're going to do great. I know it."

My laugh sounded shrill and nervous. "How bad can it go, right?" I really hoped I hadn't just jinxed myself.

"How about I pick you up after school, and we go get a bite to eat together? We can take a good look around the place."

I nodded, barely hearing him. I was still inside a nightmare of my own making, one in which everything that could go wrong would.

Mam had already left for work on foot, so I sat in the kitchen while Dad had breakfast, drumming my fingers on the table as anxiety gripped me completely.

Dad pushed away his plate. "Even I'm nervous now."

"Can we just go?" I asked. "Get this over and done with?"

He sighed before reluctantly agreeing. It was still dark outside, but the sky had brightened some by the time we reached the school. Dad escorted me inside to the office to sort out the paperwork. We had to fill out more forms, sign lists of rules that we were to agree to be bound by, and wait for somebody to find me a class list. It was sort of a blur, and time passed quickly.

When the bell rang yet again, Dad looked at the vice-principal. "I can do the rest if you don't need Margo for anything else. You could take her to her next class."

The woman looked as though she had just taken a bite of something rancid. "I'm sure she'll find her way. It's a small school, and all of the rooms are numbered."

I stood. "I'll figure it out. See you later, Dad."

Finding the right classroom wasn't hard, but the classes had already started by the time I arrived. I opened the door and immediately got stage fright.

The teacher stared at me. "What?"

"Um, I'm new. Started today. I think I'm supposed to be here."

Uninterested gazes looked in my direction then drifted away again. "You're late," the teacher said dismissively. "Take a seat."

I moved quickly, almost tripping over in my haste. I zoned in on the first empty seat I saw, but the girl sitting next to it slowly lifted her bag on the seat and refused to look at me. I found an empty seat on the other side of the room that squeaked for the rest of the class, earning me some dirty looks from the teacher. _Great start, Margo. Bloody fantastic._

I was the last to leave the classroom after the bell rang because I was busy trying to figure out my timetable. I was destined to be late for every single class.

In the hallway, I wandered around, looking at door numbers until a tall, blond boy blocked my way. "Hey," he said brightly. "You're new."

"Yeah," I said, relieved that somebody wanted to talk to me. "I'm Margo."

"Uh-huh." His gaze drifted over my shoulder. "So you're new, right?"

"Um..." I followed his gaze to a group of girls walking by. "We already went over that bit."

He looked at me blankly then scratched behind his ear. "Cool."

Weird. "Hey, do you know where the French lab is?"

He pointed behind me. "Have to go. See you." He hurried off after the girls, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened.

The rest of the day continued in similar fashion. I tried to be nice, tried to smile and say hi. Tried to put myself out there. But nobody gave a shit. Every effort I made was met with disgust, turned backs, and icy glares.

At lunch, I worked up the courage to enter the lunchroom, but anytime I moved even remotely close to an empty chair, it was magically covered up with somebody's coat or bag or lunch. People shifted in their seats and avoided meeting my eyes.

Back home, a new student would have had everyone falling over themselves to befriend them, so maybe... the problem was me?

I fell into an old habit of trying to look a few inches smaller then thought, _sod it,_ and went outside to eat my lunch in the freezing cold October air. Nobody was dressed like me or looked like me, and nobody wanted to know me either. Who cared if they didn't like me?

_I do_ , a small voice in my head reminded me.

Ignoring my desperate inner self, I sat on some steps and stared into space instead of eating.

A group of girls walked by. They were giggling over some wannabe celebrity I would never have interest in in a million years. How was I supposed to relate to them? Even their makeup was out of my league. I picked at my chipped nail polish and shrugged into my jacket, trying to stay warm.

In the distance, two groups of boys shoved past each other. One group, with a mix of various accents, aggressively turned around to shout something after the others. They looked wild. I hoped they didn't see me. A short, well-built boy with a buzz-cut was the last to stop shouting, and when he rejoined his own group, he shoved one of the boys to the ground.

_Bully_. I looked away in disgust. Maybe I didn't want to fit in.

# Chapter 4

_D orian_

* * *

Mara dumped her books into my arms then slammed her locker shut. "Have I told you how much I hate homework?" She sucked her upper teeth and retrieved the books one at a time, forcefully stuffing each one into her bag. "What's with the alpha's obsession with this stuff anyway?"

She was just grumpy because he'd warned us about consequences if we kept failing exams.

"He just wants us to fit in. Teachers notice if we don't even try."

Frustration flared in her eyes. "I'll never get this stuff. I can speak three languages, but that's not good enough. I have to learn the grammar of an extra dead one just to pass a stupid exam."

The alpha's unwillingness to let us take an exemption from the studying of the Irish language was a sore point with most of us.

"Think of it this way, only one more year, and then you can study whatever you want. Besides, Byron doesn't need you to ace every test. He just wants you to work hard." I shot her a meaningful look. "It's worth it."

She blew out a breath. She was just as desperate as me to be the kind of wolf who got to stay with the main pack. "Let's get this over with then."

"It's Tuesday," I said mournfully.

She tutted. "Then you're on your own. See you at lunch, Dor."

She left me standing there. I was the only werewolf in my next couple of classes. Due to a weird quirk of nature, all of the teenagers currently in the pack were shifters. According to our alpha, we were supposed to integrate, but sometimes—okay, most of the time—it was easier to just hang out with each other rather than the humans in town. Most of the other wolves didn't even like me, but that wasn't the point. Pack stuck together.

I hadn't made it a couple of steps away from Mara's locker when a townie purposely bumped into me.

"Whoops," Adam, a tall blond said as he shouldered me. "Didn't see you there."

I rolled my eyes and kept moving, alert to the fact he immediately followed.

"Hey," he said, barely containing his laughter. "Come back. I want to ask you something. How many people do you share a room with anyway, because we've counted, and there's way more of you scruffy refugees than there are rooms."

My shoulders stiffened. Getting at me was one thing, denigrating my pack was quite another.

"Oh, Adam, just shut up," a brunette called Chloe said irritably. "You're so annoying today."

That drew his attention away from me. Which was for the best. My fists had already clenched. I spent the next forty minutes trying to still the tension in my chest. Victor would have broken Adam's nose. I could imagine how satisfying that would feel, but it wasn't best for the pack.

I trudged into my next class alone mid-morning, fervently wishing I could go home and run in the woods when a sudden chill raised goose bumps on my arms. I froze to the spot, causing the girl behind me to bump into me.

"Move, you idiot," she said before shoving me out of the way.

I wasn't paying attention anymore. Someone else had caught my eye. There she was again, the blonde I had met a couple of days before, looking so ethereal that I had half-wondered if she was real. She had barely spoken to me, but I hadn't been able to get her out of my head.

She definitely wasn't a wolf, but somehow she didn't seem human either. When she had looked at me with those pale secret-knowing eyes, ghostly hands had run up and down my spine. I had passed it off as a quirk, but there it was again, right in the middle of my classroom. I lost all of the scents, all of the noise, and that was worse. I felt alone when I looked at the girl with hair a shade darker than white, a spine so stiff she could have been a doll, and an aura that protected her like a shield—an ice-cold werewolf repellent shield. Which was just ridiculous. Nathan was right; I had to man up sometime.

I kept my eyes on her as I passed her table and took a seat behind her. She hadn't even looked at me, never mind recognised me. I breathed through my mouth, a prickling under my skin that usually forewarned a shift into wolf form. I bit down on my tongue until blood flooded my mouth and the wolf relaxed. The girl wasn't a threat. She hadn't done a thing to me.

But she had been watching our territory as though she _knew_ , and that was never good. Maybe, if I found out why, the pack would think I wasn't as useless as they all suspected.

At lunch, I sat with the rest of the pack. Mingling was rarely entertained, despite our alpha's best hopes.

My pack was a garbled mix of different cultures and ethnicities, a result of the last alpha's efforts to bring werewolves together and away from humans. Like many younger wolves, I had no idea where my ancestors came from. When the Evans family found me, I had understood a number of languages, but spoke proficiently in none.

I wasn't the only one.

My pack was called anything from gypsy to refugee because we didn't belong. Being wolves made it harder to find a place to fit in outside the pack. Humans always knew there was something different about us. Some of them were drawn to the difference, but most were repulsed by it, which made it even more difficult to be part of a world we didn't understand, a world that didn't understand us.

But even the pack didn't understand each other half the time.

For a wolf, I was sensitive to more than most, so perhaps that explained my earlier reaction. Maybe that girl in class felt like an outsider, too, so she projected cold steel instead of welcome. Maybe she was more like us than I had imagined. But that didn't give me an appetite either, and I pushed my food aside, sickened to the stomach.

"What's up with the pup?" Mara asked without even looking in my direction. _That_ particular blonde was probably the most petite girl in school, and also the most terrifying.

"Yeah, what's up with you, Dory?" Victor flicked his banana skin my way.

The skin hit my shoulder and plopped to the floor.

He glared at me, more than a little wolf showing in his green eyes. "You better clean that up."

I couldn't hold his gaze for longer than two seconds. I broke away and bowed my head in submission, unable to defend myself. My wolf just sort of retreated. I picked up the banana skin then got up to throw it into the nearest bin.

I spotted the new girl walking by, looking awkward and unsure of herself. She seemed too vulnerable to be a threat, and I was filled with the desperate need to take her under my wing, to protect the weak one. My first instinct was to ask her to sit with us, but when I glanced back at the other werewolves, I knew that would just be cruel. She left the room alone, and my wolf whimpered. I would hate that.

When I slipped back into my seat, Victor pointed at me. "Why the hell are you so miserable looking today?"

"I'm not." I avoided his eyes. "There's just this girl—"

He burst out laughing. "Just when I think you can't get any more pathetic. What's the matter? Can't work up the courage to talk to her? I bet she isn't even a wolf."

The girl to his left, Alison, snorted. "As if he could handle a wolf."

Rolling my eyes, I picked up my bag and left the canteen. There was no point trying to talk to them in that mood. It wasn't their fault. They hadn't been on a decent run all week, and it was almost that time again. The more dominant wolves needed their freedom more often.

I was okay with the local rabbits that our alpha had encouraged to overbreed in the nearby woods. That was part of the problem, according to the others. I was more boy than wolf sometimes. But real boys weren't exactly friendly either. Some of us weren't meant to fit in anywhere. Maybe that was why the new girl stood out to me so much. We had that in common.

After school, a bunch of us walked home to avoid being trapped on a bus together, but the air remained charged with aggression. I could already tell the others would run that night. They had to.

Alison tripped me. I kept my balance and ignored her. There was no point in doing anything else.

She thumped my arm then lifted her shirt to show off her abs. "Hit me, Dorian. Let's see how hard you can go."

Mara laughed, her highly-strung laugh that meant she was too close to the edge. "He would never."

"Wimp." Alison bared her teeth, her voice unsettlingly inhuman. "Victor should make you bleed just for that."

Victor made a show of cracking his knuckles.

"Here we go," Mara snapped. "The big man wants to come out to play."

"You wish you could have a go on the big man," he said, eliciting laughter from the rest of the boys.

For all her strength and dominance, Mara wasn't comfortable with that kind of banter. She had been hurt too much before the pack found her. If Victor had paid attention to anything beyond himself, he would have known better.

Mara's nostrils flared, her hands curling into fists. I couldn't let her face the punishment that would come if she tore Victor apart on the street.

"That's enough, Victor," I said loudly.

Their attention drew to me. Victor's eyes gleamed with excitement. I patiently waited for the onslaught. The others couldn't let me away with speaking up. They had no choice. I was _nothing_. They picked on me to help them feel better, to ease the struggle against the wolf beating against its cage. I was no Omega, but I was obviously the lowest member of the pack. It was better for everyone if I just accepted that role without argument.

By the time we reached Wolf Row, the part of the neighbourhood we nicknamed because the pack owned all of the homes, the others had egged on Victor until his fur was almost shooting through his skin.

"Look at him," Alison sneered, tossing her sleek black hair away from her face. "Looking at you like he's man enough."

Victor shoved me against the wall outside my house and refused to let me by. "Did you just look me in the eye?"

I sighed. "No, I did not look you in the eye."

"Do you know what happens to weak wolves who look dominant wolves in the eye?" He gripped my face in an attempt to force me to look at him. He was shorter than me, but far stockier, and his fingers felt like vice grips on my jaw.

The others had backed away. Victor was too caught up in his own excitement to sense the new presence.

A large hand gripped the back of Victor's neck and lifted him into the air as though he weighed nothing. Nathan Evans growled from the back of his throat. "Tell me, Victor, what happens to weak wolves?"

The boy let out a whimper, much to the amusement of the others in the group. I wanted to curl up and die. I felt his embarrassment twofold, and I knew that he would pay me back eventually for being the cause of it. When Victor dropped his gaze, mortified, Nathan let go, and the boy fell.

Victor scrambled to his feet. "Sorry," he said sullenly. "I'm just ready for tonight."

"No excuses." Nathan relaxed his body to look less intimidating. It wasn't easy to look at him when the wolf looked back at you through his eyes. But he wasn't like some other wolves who felt the need to constantly remind us all of their position in the pack. Still, he wasn't above teaching us a few lessons. "Being dominant isn't an excuse to be a dickhead. That's not what you're taught in this pack. You're just lucky the alpha didn't catch you instead of me. We don't tolerate bullies, even on the days we run. There's no dominance without control. Remember that."

He stood there until the others had all shuffled toward their own homes before turning to me. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine," I said grumpily. "I can handle it."

He ran a hand through his straight black hair, but it fell back over one eye almost immediately. "Of course you can. That stand there and take it technique is working so well for you."

"They can't help it, Nate."

"Yes, they can. Control is important for all of us." He narrowed his eyes. "You have the control, Dorian, but you really need a bit of aggression sometimes, too. Stop letting them win."

"It's not a war."

He draped his arm around my shoulder and led me inside. "Yeah, well, that can change at any time."

"I always feel like you're preparing us for something in particular."

He stiffened slightly, but I noticed. "Preparation is about as important as control. Get cleaned up. Perdita's cooking." He glanced at me. "Pretend to like everything."

I laughed. "I do like everything." It was hard to feel miserable around Nathan who had made me a part of his family on the day we met.

"Teenage boys," he said with a shake of his head. "No standards at all."

"I don't want to get old if it means thinking I'm too good for everything."

He grinned. "Ouch."

"Is Byron back yet?"

"He's on his way. Dominic said that Eric's call came from Copenhagen, but Byron couldn't find any sign of him."

Eric had vanished weeks ago, with only a recent phone call to let us know he was okay. Some of the others said he had been complaining that the pack was growing too large for a while, that he probably needed a break from the constant struggles for dominance within the pack. But if the alpha himself was still searching for him, then he obviously disagreed. Maybe he remembered as clearly as I did how happy Eric had been when Byron told him he could stay. What had changed so quickly?

"Anyway," Nathan said. "Byron will be leading the run tonight. You coming with?"

"Nah. Don't need to yet."

He shot me a concerned glance. "It might help you fit in."

"I have homework," I lied.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn't try to force me. That was the great thing about Nathan. He didn't use his dominance against me, even though he easily could. His uncle was the alpha, after all. He had told me once that if it was easy, it wasn't necessary, but I wasn't sure I understood what that meant exactly.

Inside, I ran up to my room, got cleaned up, then joined Nathan and Perdita for dinner. We weren't related, but they put on a show of being my guardians, even giving me the Evans name because when I arrived, I didn't have one. I had no idea who my parents were, or even where I had been born. We'd invented a birthday for me.

The day I had joined the Evans pack had been the day my life truly began. I didn't like to think of the old days—or the old ways—very often. Submissive wolves hadn't survived for long under a violent, kind of crazy alpha, but he had died before I was old enough to know him. I'd been raised around wolves who did know him, who followed his ways, and I was lucky I had escaped them.

And even luckier that I'd been taken in by Nathan and his human mate.

"Are you okay?" Perdita asked when she served me dinner. "You're looking peaky. Think you need to join the others tonight? I don't mind being alone if you're worried about leaving me."

I shook my head. "I know. Just something weird happened today. There's this girl..."

They exchanged an amused look, telegraphing exactly what they were thinking.

"It's not like that," I protested. "It's not like you two." Those two being legitimate soul mates who had met while under a curse that they had eventually broken. Their love had shown me that people could be trusted back when I had been used to something different. "She's new, and there's something weird about her. My wolf doesn't like it. She looks... unusual, but there's an atmosphere around her that creeps me out."

"Maybe it's not the wolf reacting to her," Nathan said wryly. "Maybe the teenage boy in you is just too scared to talk to her."

Perdita speared a piece of broccoli with her fork. "As long as you don't give out mixed signals and confuse the girl."

"I'll never hear the end of it," he muttered under his breath, but his eyes twinkled with good humour.

"Nope." His mate winked at me. "So who is this girl?"

"I don't even know her name," I said. "I just get this weird vibe from her."

"She can't be weirder than you," Perdita said. "What's weirder than a werewolf?"

That night, I couldn't sleep. Sweat rolled down my back when I sat up in bed in the darkness. Maybe I was wrong; I should have gone on a run with the others instead. When I couldn't sleep, I usually chased rabbits nearby. Perdita didn't ask too many questions. She wasn't a wolf, but she understood that we had a different lifestyle to normal teenagers. I still felt guilty when I climbed out of the window and shinnied down the drainpipe. A part of me didn't want to leave her unprotected, but she had a giant wolfhound who rarely left her side. It wasn't like we lived in a dangerous time anymore.

I ran to the woods, shifted, and then hunted rabbits. But over time, I slowly realised I felt that cold sensation again, except this time it was stronger, filling the woods with waves of energy that rippled against my fur. My prey disappeared. The place grew far too quiet and still. My curiosity overcame my fear. My wolf stalked the source in the darkness, wary of getting too close.

The chill made it harder to focus, but finally I came across _the_ girl, huddled next to a kill I had left for later. I stood still in shock, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

She wore oversized fleece pyjamas, and her hands ran across the rabbit's fur as she hummed an odd tune that set my teeth on edge. When she looked up, moonlight reflected a chilling blue shade from her eyes. I was certain they'd been a pale grey before. I thought she saw me, expected her to panic, but she rose to her feet, calmly turned, and then strolled away, her fingertips wet with blood.

Keeping to the shadows, I followed her into the local housing estate until she stopped at a house on Hazelwood Avenue. Her scent was everywhere, marking the place as her home. From behind the front gate, I watched her climb the drainpipe and get in through her window. She stood there, facing outward for a few minutes, her eyes still ice-blue, but I had a feeling she wasn't truly seeing a thing.

The new girl obviously had a secret. Maybe it was none of my business—unless it affected the pack. But did I even want to know what was weirder than a werewolf?

# Chapter 5

_M argo_

* * *

I awoke an hour before my alarm went off. Groggy, I stared at the dark stains on my pillow for a few minutes before realisation hit me. I sat up straight and switched on the lamp. Patchy rust-coloured stains had dotted one side of my pillow. I looked at my hands. Blood covered my fingers, had dried beneath my nails.

_No_.

I flew out of bed and into the bathroom then scrubbed my hands with cold water, using a nailbrush to get the last stubborn pieces of blood away. _What did I do?_

I looked at the mirror and saw blood on my face, too. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to relax. A nosebleed. That's all it was. It had to be.

But what if it wasn't? I ignored the pesky voice in my head and cleaned up my face before stripping my bed. It was just blood. Just a nosebleed. Nothing else had happened. The fact the ends of my pyjamas were damp and mucky meant nothing.

By the time I was ready to leave for school, I had pushed everything to the back of my mind with well-constructed excuses to bind them. Nothing was wrong.

In the kitchen, Dad was waiting for me, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked tired again. I didn't blame him. It was hard to sleep in our new house where it was never truly dark or quiet, unlike back home when we'd lived far from streetlights, neighbours, or proper roads.

"I can pick you up after school again today," he said brightly, but he couldn't hide the strain in his voice.

I'd heard my parents fighting about money only last night. "You'll find work soon," I said. "I mean, have you seen the crappy gardens around here? And the school. They could do with some landscaping over there. Maybe the hospital."

"Are you ready to go?" he said tersely.

I realised too late that he'd probably already looked for work in those places. "I suppose so. Unless you need company here."

His smile was genuine then. "I think I'll survive. Besides, you've a mid-term break soon, so I'll have the pleasure of your company for an entire week."

I forced my own smile. "I can't wait."

"That bad?"

"Nope." I was as good at deflecting as my father.

He was quiet in the car on the way. All my fault again. He had lots of work back home. But we weren't back home anymore. Even Mam had taken a job she was over-qualified for—she expected Dad to do the same, to give up everything he was passionate about for something he would never love. I made up my mind to look for a part-time job, no matter how menial, to at least try to contribute.

I desperately wanted to talk to him about waking up the way I had, but how could I give him something else to worry about when he was already so stressed out? I loved both of my parents, but Dad was always the one I'd gone to whenever I was worried or scared. Now I worried my fears would hurt him. That I had broken my parents' marriage. Those thoughts shoved everything else aside.

In the school car park, I hesitated to get out of the car.

Dad looked at me. "Not heading in? You're not being bullied, are you?"

"It's not that." I studied his face, noting new worry lines. "Dad, are we going to be okay?"

Concern transformed his stance. "Of course we are, hon."

I bit my lip and looked away. "I heard you arguing last night. You never used to fight like that."

"That was nothing," he said firmly. "The walls are just thinner here." He took my hand and squeezed it. "As long as the three of us are together, we'll get through anything."

I looked at him and decided I wanted to believe him. So I smiled and left for my first class as though I were looking forward to it.

That day at school went about the same as the first. Boring classes, rude girls, arrogant boys. Although, some of the tension from before was gone. It was only then that I realised how tightly-wound I'd felt the day before. Probably nerves.

I didn't even bother with the lunchroom and went outside to read a book instead. A shiver kept running down my spine—as though somebody was behind me—but whenever I looked around, nobody was there.

# Chapter 6

Dorian

* * *

I peeked around the wall and stared at the new girl. She was just reading a book. A little unusual, but not dangerous. The atmosphere around her wasn't anywhere as intense as before either. Maybe I had been imagining things. Maybe Nathan was right. She _was_ pretty, after all.

I let out a gush of breath as a small force of nature tackled me into the alcove. Mara pinned me against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing, Dor?" She let me go and took a good look at the new girl. "I mean, _her_? Really?"

"I was just..." Words failed me. I was just acting on a hunch because I was desperate to find a way to prove myself to the pack that didn't involve things like standing up to more dominant wolves.

She thumped my arm. "You can't just stalk girls, you weirdo. Haven't I taught you anything?"

There was a tremble in her words that distracted me from everything else.

"Are you all right?"

"Of course," she snapped. Then she wrapped her arms around me and held on tight.

I knew the drill. She needed comfort from somebody safe. I let her embrace me, but when I wrapped my arms around her, she left me without a word.

I was used to that.

I wanted to talk to her about the chances of there being other creatures out there, not werewolves, but not humans either, but perhaps I should have been figuring out what was wrong with Mara instead.

She was right about one thing though. I _was_ acting like a stalker. I had to come up with a better way to find out more about the new girl.

The alpha had returned, and we were all called to a meeting that evening. He liked to catch up with us, make us feel a part of his decision-making process. That was cool for people like me, but some of the more dominant wolves were starting to act a bit entitled.

Byron Evans was already sitting on a bench behind the houses when I arrived. Nathan sat by his side, quickly catching him up on all that had happened in his absence. Two wolfhounds lay quietly at his feet—the family had been breeding them for as long as they could remember. For some reason, the animals fit in with the pack even better than I did, but I enjoyed helping Nathan train them.

Nathan might have been the alpha's nephew, but he looked more like Byron than the man's own son did. I'd only met Jeremy Evans a handful of times. He didn't like to stay with the family for long. Too dominant to be told what to do by his own father, he told me once. I suspected that wasn't quite the truth.

I made my way across the grass and leaned against a wall so nobody could sneak up behind me. One of the wolfhounds got to his feet and strolled over to sit next to me. I relaxed. Nobody would bother me. Not that anyone would dare hurt me in front of Nathan.

When the rest of the pack had finally finished gathering around, Byron took a good look at us, gifting only a few with smiles. I tried to look smaller so he wouldn't notice me. He had told me numerous times I was permitted to look him in the eye, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it, and I knew that frustrated him.

"Things are going well overseas," Byron said. He didn't need to speak loudly for the rest of us to hear him. "My son's been searching, but there have been no instances of new werewolves in over a year. It seems the wolf-rush is over."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Before the Evans pack had taken over, werewolves had been on a steep decline. Under the Mad Alpha's rule, "weak" shifters had been purposely wiped out or gone into hiding. Most children of werewolves weren't wolf enough to shift during their teens. Female werewolves were especially rare. Kids like me were dumped together, partly to allow the stronger wolves to wipe out the weaklings. I'd never been meant to survive. Natural selection at its finest.

The Evans family had been cursed for generations, but once that ended, we were all affected, and suddenly, those dumped children started shifting in their dozens. Girls, in particular. Nobody had been prepared for the sudden increase in population, and Byron had been working to find us all and help us ever since. No new shifters in a year probably meant everything was finally levelling out.

"I'm not happy with what I've been hearing at home though," Byron said. "In my absence, the disparity between our pack and the locals has grown wider. The school is threatening action against a number of our teens. We need to bridge this gap before it's too late. I've worked too hard to make a home here to leave now."

Whispers passed around on the wind. A number of werewolves no longer sat relaxed. Some looked angry. They didn't want to fit in.

"The alpha's right," Dom called out, keeping his voice neutral. He smiled, revealing the gap between his upper teeth, but his blue eyes remained hard. "We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves. We have to find a way to assimilate."

That drew new murmurs. Nathan had tensed, but I completely missed why.

Byron looked stern. I hated that look. I knew what he was capable of—although he had never hurt me. But perhaps if I came up with an idea, I'd be noticed in a good way. And if that idea brought the new girl near the pack, maybe that would help me figure her out.

I held up my hand. Nathan nudged Byron and nodded in my direction.

"Dorian?" Byron said, his tone slightly gentler. "What is it?"

"Um, I was thinking that people don't like what they don't know, right?"

Somebody laughed to my right. I didn't bother looking, just kept my focus on Nathan and Byron.

"What if we let them get to know us? Here, I mean."

"We can't let the townies on our territory," somebody cried out.

"Take away the mystery, you mean," Nathan said. He looked at Byron. "He's on the right track."

"Organise some kind of event?" Byron said doubtfully.

"It's Halloween soon," I said. "We could have a party here. Show the townies we aren't so different to them, that there's nothing weird here. Just... a community."

"That could be okay," Mara said loudly, interrupting Victor's protests. "We could have a bonfire and stuff. And it's not as confined here as school, so we'll be less likely to throw a townie onto the fire."

Most of the teenagers laughed.

Byron narrowed his gaze. "I expect you all to help with this. And there can be no trouble."

"Thanks, Dorian," Nathan said.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I just had to make sure everything went to plan.

# Chapter 7

Margo

* * *

I slammed my locker closed and turned the key before I noticed that the lanky streak of boy standing next to me was staring. At me.

"Can I help you?" I asked snottily.

"Hi again," he said.

I took a second look, realising too late that he had been the one who directed my way when I got lost. The one who had witnessed me space out. I turned toward him, and he took a step back, his light brown eyes wary. I had no patience for that.

"Hello," I said, and made to brush past him.

He got in my way, somehow blocking me without touching, a momentary look of stress creasing the space between his eyebrows. "You're new."

"You're quick." I shifted my bag to my other shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He grinned suddenly, relaxing as though I had said something completely different. "Where are you from?"

"Not here." I bit my lip, debating whether having a conversation was wise or not. Then again, nobody else had bothered to talk to me. "You?"

"Same. Like it here?"

I gave him a wry look. "Yeah, the people are so friendly."

"Somebody once told me that everyone thinks themselves friendly until strangers show up. Then their true colours show."

"Somebody is smart."

He cleared his throat, the flush of colour in his cheeks deepening. "I didn't mean to be weird the other day, by the way."

I laughed. "I thought I was the one being weird. I was just tired—and lost—and I spaced out."

He brightened. "So you don't have a field fetish then. Excellent."

"Not at the moment, no. I'll let you know if my circumstances change. Aside from field watching, what else is there to do around here?"

He leaned against my locker, sinking until we were eye level, although he didn't have to go far—he wasn't that much taller than me. "There are classes in the community centre, sports at the weekends, a cinema and bowling alley right outside town, stuff like that." He rubbed the back of his short brown hair, suddenly looking sheepish. "Actually, there's this—"

"Is he bothering you?"

I looked around. Two girls I had noticed in a couple of my classes—mostly because I'd noted _they_ knew how to contour—were standing in the middle of the hallway, glaring at the boy. It was the first time either of them had directed any conversation toward me.

"Not particularly," I said, curious at the hostility in their eyes. I looked back at the boy. He didn't seem bothered, a lazy half-smile hovering on his lips.

"You don't want to get stuck with his kind," the blond girl said.

I raised my brows. "His kind?" Where was I, the Twilight Zone?

"Yeah," he said with an amused laugh. "You might catch different. If you're lucky."

I pointed at my white eyelashes. I'd stopped making an effort to hide them, deciding to own my uniqueness instead—or at least try. "I've my own kind of different to worry about."

"What?" The brunette focused on me. "We've seen you around. We'll walk you to lunch. Make sure you don't get bothered again."

"Hey, come on." The boy's tone remained neutral, but his gaze hardened in a way that made me want to step back. "I've never done anything to you. Besides, I just wanted to say we're having a party."

"A party," the blonde said, her voice rising in its interest. "At your place?"

"There's gonna be a bonfire and everything," he said, reeling them in. "I thought you might want an invite, but if you don't..."

"Maybe we're interested," the brunette said, folding her arms across her chest. "We'll see if we can make it. New girl. Lunch."

I bit back a smart remark. I was supposed to be making an effort. So instead, I followed the two girls.

"Hey," the boy said.

I turned back, closing the space between us, pleasantly surprised when I didn't choke on the eye-watering amount of cologne that the owners of the locker next to mine seemed to find normal.

"So, _new girl_ ," he said with a grin. "I think you should come to the party."

He kept staring at me as though I were something to be studied, but that was better than the constant gaze-dropping I was used to. "Maybe I will. But only if I run out of fields to check out."

"It's a deal. It'll be tough, but I'll work on making the party more interesting than an empty field."

He was so perfectly deadpan that I couldn't help grinning.

He inched closer. "What's your name anyway?"

"It's Margo." I winced. "I know. It's an old lady name."

His smile widened. "It's not that bad. Some idiot called me Dorian."

I couldn't resist a soft chuckle. "Oh, man. That's terrible."

"I'll see you at the party, _Margo._ "

My lips twitched. "Like I said, _Dorian_. Maybe."

I followed the impatient girls who were waiting for me at the end of the hall. I looked back over my shoulder. Dorian was still by my locker, watching us leave. He was the first person to talk to me, and certainly the first one to act in any way friendly toward me. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"I'm Chloe," the brunette said. She was so petite and her skin so golden-toned that I probably looked like a ghost on stilts next to her. "And this is Emma. Seriously, be careful with him. His crowd are creepy."

Emma shivered dramatically. "It's so cold in here."

Chloe gave her a pointed look. "It's called October, idiot."

Emma rolled her eyes. Chloe gripped my arm and dragged me into the canteen until we reached an empty table. She pointed at a free chair. "That's your seat, new girl."

"It's Margo," I said, my gums itching at her tone.

"Where are you from?" she basically demanded, taking the seat across from me.

"Wexford," I said warily.

Emma brightened, slipping into the seat next to Chloe. "Courtown?"

I shook my head.

The interest faded from her eyes. "Oh." She shifted in her seat to face her friend. "Are you gonna go to the party?"

Chloe shrugged. "Dunno. You?"

Emma took a bottle of water from her bag. "I want to, but it's probably a joke."

"A joke?" I asked. Dorian had seemed sincere.

"Those freaks are probably planning an epic prank," Chloe said, rolling her eyes.

"Who, his family?"

Emma leaned over the table and lowered her voice. "Not exactly." She glanced over her shoulder. "Look at the table closest to the back window. That's his crowd."

"What's wrong with them?" I asked, biting back my laughter. "Nerds? Junkies? Vampires?"

She frowned in confusion, my joke whooshing straight over her head. "What? No."

"Where are you from again?" Chloe asked suspiciously.

"Far, far away," I murmured. "Go on then. Tell me the gossip."

Emma grinned. "They're like some kind of weird cult or something."

Even better. "A cult?" I said doubtfully.

Emma shrugged, suddenly finding her freshly painted nails more interesting than the conversation she had started.

Chloe stared at her for a few seconds before sighing and taking over. "There's this family who've been around for years now who keep bringing people out here to live with them."

"To be brainwashed," Emma added helpfully.

Chloe waved a dismissive hand. "They stay a while, then out of the blue, they're gone again."

"My brother reckons there's a bunch of bodies buried over there," Emma whispered. "And that's where the missing ones end up."

"Don't be ridiculous," Chloe said scornfully. "The teenagers all leave when they're eighteen, and then more show up. It's probably some kind of fostering scam. Or human trafficking. They started showing up and moving into the old estates that went bankrupt before the buildings were finished. The family I mentioned bought them all up, finished them, and filled them up with foreigners. It was like an invasion."

"And they _hate_ us," Emma said. "They call us townies and act like they're better than us."

"Emma's cousin was in this school when they arrived first," Chloe said under her breath. "He said they were in a lot of trouble with the police. Dog attacks and kidnappings and all sorts of screwed up stuff. Dodgy as hell. So... fair warning."

A note of something—not quite concern, but close enough—in her tone made me nod as though I were taking it all in. I found it all a bit ridiculous, really, but she clearly took it seriously. Although not so seriously that she wouldn't go to Dorian's party.

Emma fidgeted with a neon lighter, a dolphin embedded on the side. "I heard they're into blood sacrifices."

That was it. They had to be messing with me.

"You're so _stupid_ sometimes," Chloe said in exasperation.

"I get it," I said. "Scare the new girl off."

"That's not it!" Chloe reached across the table as though to touch my hand then thought better of it and retreated. "Whatever. Just be careful. People come and go all of the time over there, mostly Europeans, but from all over. My brother reckons it's like a hideout for people on the run. They could be dangerous either way, so watch yourself."

"Okaaay," I said, widening my eyes. Dramatic much?

The girls shadowed me for the rest of the day. I had gotten them invites directly from Dorian which made me far more interesting than I had been that morning. News of the Halloween party filtered throughout the school by the end of the day. By the sounds of the excited whispers, it was a pretty big deal. I was starting to think the entire town was some kind of elaborate joke.

Now that I'd gotten a better look at him, I recognised Dorian throughout the day, with the group of boys I'd thought of as bullies, who were apparently also scary foreigners. People would do anything for a bit of gossip. We'd jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire when we moved.

I didn't notice Dorian alone again until the final class. As I settled into an empty seat in the art room, a girl next to me—I couldn't remember her name—told me we had a substitute teacher. I inwardly groaned, expecting a mess of a class.

Dorian sat across the room, nodded at me, and winked. I smiled back. He seemed nice enough, and I didn't believe a word the girls had told me about his family or neighbours or whoever the hell they were. Besides, he'd been the only consistently friendly person so far, or at least the only one who didn't lead conversations by badmouthing everyone else.

The teacher arrived. She was typically young, with chin-length auburn hair and kind blue eyes. But the class appeared to respect her, and the lesson started without preamble. When she noticed me, she approached and got me started on a simple project, but there was a wariness in her eyes that made me suspect she didn't want me in the class. Maybe she was another townie, suspicious of anyone different.

She returned to her desk. "Dorian Evans," she called out.

Dorian got up from his seat and went to her. They spoke quietly, but whenever I looked up, I got the feeling they were talking about me. Great, Chloe's paranoia was contagious.

Dorian returned to his seat. The teacher's eyes met mine, and she smiled warmly then beckoned me to her.

"Margo," she said when I reached her desk. "I should properly introduce myself. I'm Ms. Rivers. I'll be here for the rest of the year. If you need any help, feel free to come to me. I know you only have this class because there wasn't room elsewhere, and I'm sorry for that, but while you're here, we'll try to find something you enjoy."

"Thanks."

"How are you finding the school so far?"

"Uh..." I glanced over my shoulder. Dorian was watching us closely. "It's different than I'm used to."

She kept talking, but an open sketchpad on her desk drew my attention. The pages were covered in realistic sketches of wolves. My new art teacher actually had talent.

# Chapter 8

Dorian

* * *

On the walk home, the rest of the teen pack members busied themselves trying to come up with ways they could make the Halloween party a night the rest of town would never forget.

"I don't understand why we're even inviting those idiots," Victor complained. "We'd have a better party ourselves. I'll have to wear clothes and everything."

Mara nudged me so hard it would leave a bruise.

"We'll draw less attention to ourselves if we're friendly." I cleared my throat. "And fully-clothed."

Mara sniggered. "If we're good, the alpha will start organising playdates next."

"Maybe we should forget about the pranks," Alison said in a subdued voice. Tension, restlessness, and a hunger that only the wolf could satiate were all eased after a run. I never had a problem with any of that to begin with—which forced the others to assume I wasn't as much of a wolf as them.

"They deserve a fright," Mara said. "They're constantly talking about us and blaming us for everything that goes wrong. I'm sick of it."

"Maybe if you tried making friends with them, they wouldn't," I said wearily, tired of the same old complaints.

"You mean like you?" Victor asked scornfully. "I saw you crawling after them today, trying to _make friends_. They looked at you like you were dirt on the soles of their shoes."

He looked at me the same way all of the time. Margo hadn't.

"We should stick to our own," Mara said firmly. "It does us no good to mix with them."

"What's the big deal?" I ventured. "What's so bad about making friends?"

"We can't tell them the truth, so what's the point?" Mara glanced at me askance, and I knew she was worried.

She could be gruff, but when it came down to it, she always looked out for me. I'd had a crush on her in the past, but she'd made it clear such a submissive wolf didn't stand a chance with her—too long after we first kissed. I'd been heartbroken, but our friendship had grown afterward. Nowadays, I saw her more as a pushy older sister.

"I saw you with that new girl today," she pressed. "I get the appeal of something new, but she's not like us. She'll turn on you as soon as she realises how things work here. Trust me, the townies are probably filling her in already."

"But Byron says we should integrate."

"That's _never_ been our way," she said softly. "It's bred into us to keep apart, and it's going to take longer than a decade to change that."

"People respect Nathan around here," I reminded her, "and when the first families came to Byron, they made an effort to fit in."

"And then they moved on," she said bitterly. "Because rejects like us had to take their place. We're not like those first families, Dorian. They were ready to settle down, but we grew up wild. We're the first generation of _real_ werewolves in maybe hundreds of years. Nobody can expect us to just fit in with boring humans."

"Yeah, but Byron—"

"Do you always do what the alpha tells you?" Victor scoffed. "Oh, wait. It's D-D-Dorian. Of course he does."

"That's the way he's made," Mara said. "Just like you were made to be a loser."

He tackled her, but she was ready for him and had his arm twisted behind his back within seconds.

"Like I said," she whispered before releasing him.

Victor took his annoyance out on me the rest of the way home, but I didn't care. I was too busy thinking about Margo. I'd intended to investigate her secrets, but the chill around her had lessened, just as the tension in the pack had been eased, and I'd been drawn in. Maybe she was sensitive, unwittingly aware of the atmosphere, and that was what I was sensing from her.

I'd tried to remain wary of her, but I liked how she spoke. Words were important to me; I paid attention to how a person used them. Margo was different, alone like me, but she held herself with confidence as though she were her own pack, her own army. People like Chloe and Emma or even Victor and Mara would never keep up with her.

I had intended to figure Margo out to prove to the pack I was useful, but sometimes I just wanted to spend time with someone who wasn't a werewolf. Dealing with bearing the brunt of everyone's bad mood was exhausting. As most of the townies avoided us on sight, my choices were limited, but I had a feeling I would have gravitated to Margo regardless.

Back home, I cleaned up and started dinner while I waited for Perdita to return home. By the time she arrived, the food was ready.

"No point waiting for Nathan." She peeked at the pot I was stirring, sniffing appreciatively. "I'm starving. This looks great. What did we do to deserve you?"

"You taught me how to take care of myself."

She patted my cheek. "You don't have to take care of me though."

I would have done _anything_ for her. When I was brought to the pack, around eleven or twelve and a stuttering fool, she had quickly taken me under her wing after discovering how the others treated me. She had been in college that first year, and I had lived for her visits back home, waited patiently in front of the houses for hours when I knew she was coming, ignoring the taunts of the other kids who couldn't understand why I would show obedience to someone who wasn't wolf—or why the true mate of an Evans wolf would ever care for a nobody like me.

Perdita's father was the pack doctor, and human himself, but he knew our truth, and he had spent a lot of time with me, helping me with my speech problems. Perdita had trusted me with her baby brother, her true family, and I had trusted her with my truth, the fact I could shift too young. She'd kept my secret, taking me to shift alone, watching over me, unafraid, sketching me so I would know how I looked as a wolf, back when even the flash of a camera had the potential to trigger an inner alarm. By the time Nathan uncovered the truth, I was close enough to Perdita to fear losing her, but he had treated me with wonder instead of suspicion. He figured the shift came early for me to help me survive the abuse of my childhood, and he'd sounded proud when he told me I had a special kind of strength that didn't come from dominance.

Between Perdita and Nathan, I'd been reborn, bathed in kindness for the first time in my life, and I would _never_ forget what I owed them. I hoped that Nathan would one day become alpha instead of his cousin Jeremy, and I prayed nightly that I would still be a part of the pack when that happened. I knew Perdita wanted me to stay, but ultimately, it wasn't her decision to make, and I had never worked up the courage to ask Nathan about it because I knew it would cause problems between them if he agreed to send me away. Perdita didn't have to obey the alpha, but Nathan had to follow his lead as much as I did.

Perdita served the food, casting concerned glances my way. "You seem to have a lot on your mind lately, Dorian. Need to share?"

I shook my head and forced myself to smile. My seventeenth birthday last year had been the thing, a countdown to a future that terrified me. I felt time slipping through my fingers, eaten up by days upon days in which I failed to fight for my place in the pack. I'd been worrying since then, but I wasn't about to burden Perdita with that. She'd be upset enough when the alpha sent me away. For an instant, a spark of jealousy flared as I wondered if I would be replaced by the next weak young wolf who turned up.

Nathan arrived home while we were eating. Looking exhausted, he plonked himself into a seat at the table with his dinner, not bothering to heat it back up. Werewolves were generally full of excess energy, so to avoid constant fights and power plays, we tended to occupy ourselves as much as possible. Nathan did a lot within the community, and people generally liked him. It was the rest of us who didn't fit in.

"I met Dorian's girl today," Perdita told him after he had taken a moment to touch her hand, immediately looking calmer for it. People sometimes whispered that losing Perdita would cause Nathan to lose his mind—in an attempt to make him sound too weak to be alpha after Byron. I privately worried the rumour was true.

"She's not actually my girl," I said, partly to remind them I was in the room.

"There's something about her," she said thoughtfully. "Something stand-offish, but at the same time... I don't know. She even looks unusual, almost as though somebody sucked the colour right out of her."

"There's like an aura around her," I tried to explain, being careful not to mention what I had seen in the woods. "Something about her makes you want to take a step back, makes my wolf want to hide, but then she starts talking and you kind of get used to it, so you forget the chill."

Nathan frowned. "Your wolf reacts to her?"

"She's not a wolf," I said. "But there's something..."

"Maybe she has magic in her blood," Nathan said. "My own sister has power beyond the werewolf stuff, so it's not too much of a stretch to believe she's not the only one."

"Amelia's a witch," I said resolutely. The pack liked to argue the point because they weren't comfortable with that kind of power hanging around, but it was best to name one's fears because the ones without a name could morph into worse things.

"Whatever she is, she's proof that other unknowns exist in this world," he said. "Maybe this girl has a little magic of her own."

"She might not even be aware of it," Perdita said. "She could be accidentally projecting something to protect herself. It might be the extent of what she can do."

"I'll find out," I said.

"Be careful," she said. "You know what it's like to protect a secret."

"I'm not going to hurt her," I said. "I'm just curious."

"You could call Amelia and ask her advice," Perdita suggested.

"No, thanks."

Nathan kicked me under the table. "That's my sister you're making a face about."

"She's not going to want to talk to me." I had once overhead Amelia partaking in a pretty embarrassing personal conversation with another pack wolf. When she noticed me, she had looked at me with terrifying eyes that weren't wolf at all. I wasn't ashamed to admit it, but I feared witches, too. "Anyway, I invited Margo to the party. It's not like I need your help to talk to a girl."

Perdita groaned. "That party is all I've been hearing about all day."

Nathan laid his hand on hers. "Do you think it's a bad idea?"

"We have to do _something_. Your pups won't mix—no offence, Dorian—and the longer it goes on, the more segregated we become. I worry how they're going to end up. If they can't fit in here, with the alpha supporting them, then what hope do they have elsewhere? So, yes, the party might be a good idea. But I'm going to visit my family that night. I don't think hanging around school kids in a social setting is going to help my reputation at school."

"I'll go with you," he said. "The last thing I want to do is listen to even more teenage gossip." He grinned at me. "Dorian's bad enough."

"I do not gossip," I said, knowing he was merely teasing. But the thought of Margo being a witch of some kind was intriguing. Maybe, if she understood what it was like to have a secret, she wouldn't hate us like everyone else.

# Chapter 9

Margo

* * *

Mid-term granted me a full week off school, and as I hadn't made any friends, I had nothing better to do than talk to the pair of lovebirds in my room. As usual, they ignored me.

I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to work up the courage to call Eva, my old best friend. I couldn't face hearing her mother's voice telling me Eva wasn't in—again—so I texted her instead, staring at my phone as I willed it to light up with some kind of contact with the outside world.

My days off school were being wasted, but I didn't know what to do about that. How was I supposed to make friends with people who weren't interested? Chloe and Emma's interest in me had faded pretty quickly. If I wasn't too afraid of being left standing around on my own, I might have planned on going to the Halloween party.

Dad knocked on my bedroom door around lunchtime on the third day off.

"Come in," I called out.

He opened the door and popped his head in. "Bored?" he asked.

"Just a bit."

"Nobody you can hang out with?"

I shrugged. "People are kind of suspicious of new people around here, apparently."

"But you're trying to make friends, right?"

"Promise." But I wasn't sure if I even liked any of the girls. We'd left our home to escape gossip, and the only people who wanted to talk to me were the biggest gossip-mongers in the entire school.

"I'm going to meet the man who hired me to landscape his property this morning," he said. "Want to come with me?"

I made a face. "You're going to let me tag along to a business meeting?"

"It's not a meeting," he said. "Just a casual encounter with a paying customer. You'll give me something to small talk about."

That made me laugh. Dad definitely wasn't the outgoing one in the family. "All right, I'll go. But only so I can watch you embarrass yourself."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Always warms the old heart."

"Old is right," I teased. "Look at all that grey."

"Go on, you. Get ready. Wrap up warm. It's freezing out there today. We'll pick up some food from the chipper on the way home."

I flinched at the word _home_.

"Hey," he said, "it's going to get better."

I resisted the urge to pick at a tiny chip on my nail polish. "It just doesn't feel like home yet."

"Come on." He took my hands to pull me to my feet. "I wouldn't be any kind of father if I let you wallow in the maudlin and the self-pity and the—"

"All right, Dad. I get it."

"Get your coat, too. We're going out on the town."

Shaking my head, I got my jacket and a warm beanie. On second thoughts, I put on some mascara so I looked less ghostlike. Anything to make Dad's life easier.

Shortly afterward, we walked out of the estate, huddling close together for warmth. We came out onto a main road that looked familiar. I was pretty sure that field I'd been gawking at was nearby. On our side of the road were more houses like ours, but across the street, the houses all appeared to be recently built in varying styles.

"The man who's hired me owns half the properties in town," Dad said. "All the new ones anyway."

"Oh, the foreigners?" I said.

"Foreigners." He snorted. "I think he's English, and he's lived here for at least ten years."

I shrugged. "Everyone hates those people, I think."

"That's sad," Dad said. "I suppose nobody likes change, even if it does some good in the long run."

"So exactly like back home then."

"You know better than anyone not to listen to gossip anyway," he chided.

"I was kidding. Sort of." I rubbed my gloved hands together. "It really is cold. I think it's colder here than back home."

"I checked the weather," he said. "It's at least two degrees warmer here. Nice try though."

"Don't you miss it?" I asked, upping my pace to keep up to him. He was faster than he looked, and apparently especially eager to reach his destination. Not working had probably been killing him.

"No," he said sharply. "They treated us badly after all the years we lived there. They owed us more than that."

"It would have died down eventually," I said. "They couldn't have talked about us forever."

He gestured toward the new houses across the road. "How long did I say those people have been living here?"

"Okay," I said. "That was a good point. But there are more people to gossip here, that's all."

"And they also have more to gossip about," he said. "We were the main topic of conversation back home."

"You mean I was," I said in a low voice.

He wrapped his arm around me and led me across a narrow road that led right back into our estate. "Family sticks together, Margo. If one is under fire, we all are. That's the way it works."

"Do you ever regret adopting me?" I asked after a moment. "I mean, your lives would have been much easier."

He glanced at me. "Do you think that's what we want? Easy? You've given us everything we wanted. We'll never regret adopting you. You were meant to be ours. I've always believed that."

"Do you think she gave me up because of how I look?" I said, avoiding his knowing gaze. "My birth mother, I mean."

"No, I think she couldn't take care of you for some reason, and she did what was best for you. You have been happy with us, haven't you?"

"Of course I have," I said. "You're my parents. I don't care who gave birth to me."

"You must be curious," he said. "About who she was."

"Sometimes," I admitted. "But I don't think of her as my mother. I doubt _she_ would have stuck by me in the face of gossiping old ladies."

He affectionately ran his hand across my head, making me glad I had worn a hat.

"Here we are," he said, nodding at a long line of houses. "He lives in one of those, but we're meeting him on some land just beyond the buildings."

"What is it they want you to do?"

"Probably just tidy up the place. Maybe Byron Evans is thinking of selling now that he's raised property values all over town. Before he worked on the place, it was dying."

"And they still complain about these people?" I asked, offended on behalf of complete strangers.

"Ha," he said. "If he hadn't, our house would have been a hell of a lot cheaper. Then again, I'd still be out of work, too."

We walked across the main road, which wasn't particularly busy, until we reached the end of the group of houses. Two men stood together on a stretch of concrete where a couple of cars were parked next to the first house. One man was at least a couple of decades older than the other, but they looked similar enough that I took them to be father and son. Both had dark brown eyes, muscular figures, and black hair—the elder's was mostly grey, and the younger had a slightly lighter skin-tone, but those were the only differences I noticed.

When he saw my father, the older man waved us over. "Mr. Harding," he said warmly. "And this must be your daughter."

"Call me Niall," Dad said. "This is Margo. We moved at a poor time of year. Her mid-term break has been terribly boring so far, so she's stuck keeping me company."

"This is my nephew, Nathan," the older man said, obviously the infamous Byron Evans. "It's nice to meet you, Margo. I hear we're hosting a Halloween party in our back yards this week. Have you been invited?"

I rubbed my earlobe. "I was, but I'm not sure if he was supposed to."

"Dorian invited you," Nathan said, a smile hovering on his lips.

I frowned. "How did you know?"

"He... mentioned it," Nathan said innocently. "He's not in right now, or I'd fetch him for you."

I held up my hands, embarrassed. "I don't even know him. He only invited me because I was standing right there when..." I cleared my throat. "It doesn't matter."

The men began to discuss the work that needed to be done. I tried to listen, but I soon zoned out and wandered off in a daze. Something in the pit of my stomach shifted as I strolled toward the woods. A gust of wind blasted my back, making me shiver. I stared into the woods, seeing nothing, but my skin crawled as though something were staring right back.

"Margo!"

I jumped and turned. Dorian was walking a gigantic dog on a leather lead toward me. I met him halfway, trying to shake off the sudden fear that had engulfed me. The hackles on the dog's back rose until Dorian laid his hand on the animal's collar.

"What are you doing here?" he said. "Stalking me?"

"Very funny. My dad is doing some work out here. He dragged me along because I'm a loser and have no friends."

"His words?" he asked with a grin.

I smiled back. "Almost. So you live around here."

He nodded at the main houses. "Over there actually."

"You share their surname," I said, suddenly realising. "Are you related?"

Dorian's brown eyes leaned toward a soft toffee colour, and his hair and skin were both far lighter than the older men. He was tall, but kind of scrawny, definitely not as broad as the other men. And he was fair enough to have a million freckles across his crooked nose. His cheeks were constantly flushed. He was kind of cute, actually, in an endearingly earnest way.

"Not a blood relative," he said, looking uncomfortable. "They sort of took me into the family."

"Oh," I blurted. "I'm adopted, too." I never told people that. Then again, I'd never had reason to. Back home, everyone already knew my story. I gazed at Dorian with interest. He stared back as though trying to figure something out.

The staring contest continued until the dog nudged my hand, making me jump again. "Yours?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"No, he's Perdita's. Ms. Rivers," he corrected.

I frowned, trying to make the connection. "The art teacher?"

He nodded. "I live with her." He nodded at the men. "And Nathan. They're my guardians."

I looked around at Nathan Evans. He had to be in his twenties still. He and Ms. Rivers looked way too young to have adopted a teenager. I was dying to ask more questions, but Dad called me over. Dorian escorted me with the creepy monster dog who kept staring at me.

Nathan ruffled Dorian's hair. "'Bout time you got back."

"The hound's old and lazy," Dorian said, freeing himself. "Slowing down, just like you."

Nathan brightened as though he hadn't just been burned. These people were even weirder than my family. I liked that a lot.

"We'll head on," Dad said, and I noticed he had been giving Dorian some serious Dad Eye. "I'll be back to take some measurements, then I should be ready to start in a few days."

"If you need help with anything, I'll be around," Dorian said.

"Good idea," Byron said. "I'll try to round up a few of the kids to help out."

"That's not necessary," Dad said. "I'm used to working alone, and I wouldn't want to use up their holidays."

"We like to get everyone involved," Nathan explained.

Dad nudged me. "Hear that, Margo?"

I groaned. "Oh, God, not me, too."

Dad's answering grin told me everything I didn't want to know. He _desperately_ wanted me to make friends.

As we left, Dorian shouted after us, "Don't forget the party!"

# Chapter 10

Dorian

* * *

The grass was damp, but a half dozen of us sat in a circle anyway. Mara had a giant bag of roasted peanuts she'd nabbed from somewhere. She ripped open the bag, ate her fill, then passed the bag to her left where Victor was waiting impatiently.

"They're putting way too much effort into this party," Mara said. "What are _we_ going to do?"

"Nothing," I said immediately. "It's too risky. They aren't going to leave us unsupervised."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Are you really worried about getting caught doing something wrong?"

"Of course he is," Victor said. "Hey, Dorian. Are you sure you're still a wolf? I mean, when was the last time any of us saw you shift?"

"Pass the bag," Mara said with a growl.

Victor made a face before obeying.

"One of us should shift," Alison said. "Get a couple of townies out into the woods, give them a scare."

"Are you gonna do it?" Mara sneered. "Didn't think so."

I watched the bag slowly pass around the group. Alison took it, eyeing me as though I were about to snatch it from her hands. Some more lame ideas were thrown around, but thankfully, nobody could agree on anything. That was a relief. Sometimes the need to climb the ladder of pack hierarchy came in handy.

Alison handed me the bag. I squeezed it. Empty. Maybe not always handy.

Mara looked at me solemnly for about ten seconds before giggling.

I sighed as the others joined in. Spotting Perdita carrying some heavy-looking shopping bags from her car, I got up and sprinted toward her, managing to kick up some muck onto Victor's sleeve as he reached out to trip me up.

He bellowed something incoherent. I glanced over my shoulder to see Mara yank him back into his place. He might forget about it by the time I saw him again.

I caught up to Perdita, but Dominic was already trying to take the bags from her. She looked at me and brightened. "Oh, it's okay. Dorian's here." She handed the bags to me.

For an instant, I thought Dom scowled, but then he grinned at me. "Saved me a job. I best get back to it."

"Thanks," Perdita said when he left. "Bring them into Byron's kitchen. Some of it's for the party." She went back to the car for the rest. She could have asked Dom to get them, but she hated the way the pack treated her as though she needed to be taken care of.

The counters in the kitchen were full. I was still trying to find a clear space to put the new bags when Perdita found me.

"So I've been roped into supervising at the party," she said. "Apparently, I'm the most neutral person. I couldn't say no to Byron. I'm worse than a wolf."

We began putting the groceries away. "Margo might come," I said, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Oh." She pressed her lips together and turned her back to me, and I knew she was hiding a smile. "That might be nice."

"It's not like that."

"I know. You told me already."

I groaned. It was sort of like that.

She glanced at me. "How bad is this party going to be anyway?"

"Don't worry," I said. "They're all too busy arguing to come up with anything awful. Besides, you'll be there. Nobody's going to want to embarrass you."

She huffed a little under her breath. "Sometimes I wonder."

I didn't have to wonder. I already knew that only a fool would upset the mate of Nathan Evans.

# Chapter 11

_M argo_

* * *

Dad drove me the full five minutes to the Halloween party because he didn't trust me to walk over by myself. "They're nice people," he said. "You wouldn't do wrong to make friends with them."

"What's their deal?" I asked.

"I'm not sure of the exact details," he said. "But I know that Byron bought property here, putting himself in debt, I might add, to give these people a place to live. They don't always stick around, but I'm sure they leave better off than when they arrived. I'm thinking they must be involved in some kind of charity, perhaps something to do with asylum seekers, but your mother hasn't found out which one yet."

"You're spying on them now?" I asked, laughing at the thought of my mother sleuthing away behind the neighbours' backs.

"We're just interested," he said. "And you, be polite and get invited back again."

"You just think they're secret billionaires and you want me to marry into the family."

He clutched his chest. "You found me out. Damn it. Foiled again."

"I worry about you," I said dryly.

"And I worry about you," he said in a serious tone. "And I'm worried we made a mistake coming here, but don't you see? It's too late to go back. There's never going to be a way to go back. We just can't afford another move. We have to find a way to love it here, to make it feel like home."

_No pressure._

He pulled in outside the houses. The sounds of laughter filled the air, and through the gap in my open window, I could already smell the sweet, smoky scent of a fire. But it was Dad's white knuckles I paid attention to, his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. It hadn't really occurred to me that moving was as much of a struggle for my parents, too, but especially my dad. Mam had found a steady job. He had nothing permanent, no friends to fall back on. I wasn't the only one feeling as though I didn't fit in.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "You'd be happy if it wasn't for me."

He patted my arm. "I'm happy as long as my family are with me. This is our chance to make a fresh start."

"I know." I plastered on a smile. "I'm trying."

"Good girl."

I left him there, sensing his fear and uncertainty. It was stronger than even my own. I had changed everything, and I couldn't fix that, but I could at least try my best to fit in. It wasn't as though I hated the place; it just wasn't home. But maybe it could be. I owed Dad that much. He always seemed so upbeat and enthusiastic about everything that I never stopped to think that maybe it was a coping mechanism, that actually, he didn't have all of his shit together all of the time.

I followed a couple of teenagers who seemed to know where they were going. We walked behind the houses and into a massive extended garden. That was weird. I had never heard of neighbours sharing their gardens like that before. It seemed like a recipe for drama. Back home, even a couple of inches over a boundary line were a no-go.

The bonfire was huge and burned brightly in the darkness, taking a little of the chill away. The houses and gardens were full of Halloween decorations which made me miss home. My village always made the most of Halloween. It was the first year in a long time that I hadn't dressed up, but seeing everyone else in normal clothes made me relieved I hadn't put in the extra effort.

I spotted a group of adults near the houses, watching the separation of the teenagers. The town was still torn in two, it seemed. On one side of the bonfire were the new additions who stuck together, and on the other were those who had been born in town. So where did I belong?

I spotted Dorian and waved at him. He smiled, the fire dancing in colours on his cheeks. I took a step toward him, but a firm hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me in the other direction. Chloe.

"What's up?" I couldn't help saying. "Thought it was too dangerous on this side of town for you."

She grimaced. "Stay close to the bonfire, and don't even think about going into those woods. Don't go into any of their houses alone. Don't leave alone either. Just... stay safe, new girl."

I was too surprised to respond.

Chloe gathered me up with a group of her friends that consisted of Emma and about five or six other teenagers I hadn't met. One of the boys immediately threw Emma over his shoulder. She squealed and thumped his back. I recognised him as the boy who had _almost_ had a conversation with me in the hall on my first day at school.

"Leave her alone, Adam!" Chloe called out, moving closer to me.

I looked over my shoulder to find Dorian, but he was gone.

"You belong over here," she said firmly. "You live on our side of town."

"But we're at their party," I said. "Surely we should—"

"And make them think they've won?" She sounded horrified. "Not even a chance."

Won what, exactly? The pointless town rivalry was starting to get on my nerves. I spotted a familiar face step out of one of the houses with a tray of steaming cups.

"Isn't that our art teacher?" I asked, pointing.

"Oh, her," Chloe said. "She used to be one of us."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A couple of Dorian's people ventured over to her and took a cup each from the tray.

"Anyone want to get a drink?" I asked, hopping from one foot to the other. My fingers were already numb with cold.

Adam set Emma down and pushed her toward Chloe. "What do you want to do, get poisoned?"

Emma giggled. "Beware of the weirdo germs, Margo." She darted in front of the fire, dancing provocatively next to the flames and drawing the attention of most of the boys.

"Well, I'm cold and thirsty," I said, moving before Chloe could stop me. She was too much of a worrier.

I headed to Ms. Rivers, relieved to get away from the gossip and badmouthing.

Ms. Rivers smiled and offered up the tray. "Hot chocolate? I take it there aren't many fans here."

"I love hot chocolate," I said. "I have you for art. I didn't expect to see you here."

She made a face. "Neither did I, but apparently, somebody thought a figure of authority would force the teenagers to behave." She shrugged. "Doesn't look like the bonfire idea is working."

I glanced over my shoulder. Both groups were busy giving each other suspicious looks. "For a small town, our addresses are an issue."

She smiled. "For some, it's a huge deal. For me, not so much."

"You crossed over," I said, laughing. "I've been told you used to be one of us, and now you're one of them."

"Have you already labelled yourself?" she asked, her voice lowering into a mischievous tone. "When I was a teenager, we were desperate to shake off labels. These days, nobody's happy unless they have one."

That made me laugh again. "You can't be that much older than us."

"That's the scary part. Try not to get tied down to a team, Margo. You'll miss out on so much."

"I'm told I don't get a choice." I held up the cup. "I think this is called fraternising with the enemy."

"Probably." Her face brightened as she nodded at somebody behind me. "Dorian, can I interest you in a hot chocolate?"

Dorian moved to my side. Warmth emanated from him as though he had been standing too close to the bonfire.

I lifted my cup. "It's good."

He took a cup. "That's because she makes them the way I like them."

"Oh, look," Ms. Rivers whispered. "Some of them are getting brave."

"And all it took was one foolish sheep," I remarked, but she was already moving on to offer her wares elsewhere.

"I wasn't sure you were going to come." Dorian smiled warmly. "I'm glad you did though."

"Turns out my dad _really_ wants me to make some friends."

"Is it working?"

"I'm not sure it's possible to fit in around here."

He sighed. "Tell me about it."

I turned to watch my so-called crowd gather around Ms. Rivers and act as though they hadn't just referred to her as _one of them_. A couple of Dorian's friends were wrestling next to the bonfire. I watched on tenterhooks as they rolled close to the flames until the teacher told them to quit it. To my surprise, they stopped instantly.

"Is she scarier than she looks or something?" I asked.

"Something like that," Dorian said. "Having fun yet or will we be losing you to the nearest field?"

"I don't know." The look in his eye made me want to step closer to him. "What about you?"

"Things are improving." He pulled my beanie annoyingly low on my forehead. "I like your hat thing."

I fixed it and shrugged. "Between that, the hot chocolate, and the fire, you'd think I'd be warm by now."

"It's a cold night." He set down his cup then covered my hands with his. "Is that any better?"

I squeezed my cup, surprised by the warmth in his hands. My skin prickled, and I held his gaze. He had the kind of face that got better the more you looked at it, and he was probably the one teenager in town I didn't want to escape from. My cheeks warmed, and a little flutter in the pit of my stomach kicked in. "Yeah, actually," I said when it became clear that he was waiting for an answer.

He grinned. "Good. Can't have the new girl freezing to death before—"

"Introduce us to your friend, Dorian," a girl said, stealing his cup and taking a sip. Dorian immediately let go of me and stepped back, a muscle in his neck tightening.

Two teens moved to either side of him, the short petite blonde who had spoken, and an impossibly broad skinhead who looked at me disapprovingly. I remembered him. He was one of the boys I'd tagged as a bully. The kind who had testosterone coming out of his ears.

"This is Margo," Dorian said in a flat tone. "Margo, this is Mara and Victor. They're my... friends."

"Hey." I took a sip of my drink, wondering why Dorian looked so uncomfortable.

"So you're the newbie then," Victor said. His eyes squinted when he talked.

"What's your deal with Dorian?" Mara asked bluntly.

That took me aback. I looked at him, but he had squeezed his eyes shut as though wishing himself away. The other two appeared to be waiting for me to run or something. I didn't like the aggressive glint in Victor's gaze, and Mara's accusatory words got my back up.

I took a step closer. "Are you his girlfriend or something?"

She folded her arms, her expression insulted. "No."

"His sister then."

"No," she said through grit teeth.

"Then what the hell has it got to do with you?" I regretted my tone instantly. I was supposed to be trying to fit in, and these were Dorian's friends, for heaven's sake. But to my surprise, Victor and Mara laughed, instantly relaxing.

"Surprise, surprise," Victor said. "She's got claws."

Dorian exhaled loudly, the tension in his shoulders finally relaxing.

"She'll need them." Mara wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "Come meet some people."

Dorian shrugged, his normal smile returning. I looked back at him as Mara led me away. I couldn't read the expression on his face.

I let myself get drawn into one group then another for a while. Even Chloe joined us, unable to stay away and miss anything, despite the fact Emma was still dancing in front of the bonfire, practically screaming out for attention.

I barely remembered anyone's names, and most of the faces kind of blurred together, but at least people were acknowledging my existence for a change. I just wished I was seeing more of one particular face.

Emma and Chloe made me sit on one of the enormous benches while they people watched, but I only kept an eye out for Dorian.

Emma stopped messing about with her lighter—this one looked holographic—long enough to pick up the end of my plait and study the ends of my hair. "Is that your natural colour?"

"Yeah."

"Bitch."

I stared at her. "Excuse me?"

Chloe sniggered. "She's jealous."

I shot her a blank look. "What?"

"Your hair," Emma said. "It's almost white. It's disgusting that it's natural." She lifted up a few strands of her hair and pouted. "No amount of toner will get mine that light and even. It's so perfect. I hate you."

I gaped. Nobody had ever wanted something of mine before. It was a weird backhanded kind of compliment, but I was pretty sure it was a compliment all the same.

Somebody shouted something derogative from the other side of the bonfire.

"What the hell is Adam even doing?" Chloe said wearily. "I told him not to start any trouble."

"I bet he gets beaten up," Emma said with a snort. "Let's go see what happens."

They both hurried over to see what was going on elsewhere, but I sat there, basking in the glow of Emma words. I'd always heard things about changing my hair, but nobody had ever wanted theirs like mine before.

Dorian slipped into the space next to me, his thigh pressing against mine. "You're looking a bit confused there."

"Emma likes my hair," I said with a grin. "That's so weird."

"What's weird about it?" He relaxed, letting his arm lounge on the back of the seat behind me. "It's pretty."

"Is this some kind of elaborate joke?"

He frowned, looking a little confused himself. He picked up my plait and dragged his forefinger and thumb downward, sending a delicious tingle across my scalp. "You do know that _you're_ pretty, right?"

I had no idea what to say. Life had not prepared me for compliments.

He grinned, and his face transformed. I wanted to keep looking. "I've never seen anybody look so horrified that somebody else thinks they're pretty."

"I think I might be in shock or something," I managed to say. "I'm not used to boys like you. You just say things right to people's faces, and you don't seem to care what anyone will think of you."

"Says you. Anyway, I _am_ a coward," he said. "But I'm not shy." His hand moved to cup my cheek, and he leaned in closer. I held my breath. "I'm going to kiss you in, like, ten seconds, so if you don't want me to, now's the time to say no."

He wouldn't. He wasn't going to kiss me. _Me_. I was the ugly friend, the one boys only chatted to so their friends could get closer to my best friend.

But Dorian Evans kept leaning in, his gaze drifting from my eyes to my lips and back again, his body shifting closer to mine. He kissed me before I could even decide if I wanted to kiss him back. And it wasn't anything like my past kisses, not a hurried, lets-get-this-over-with unpleasant kind of sloppy disaster. He kissed me softly, gently, testing the waters before the kiss deepened and I realised I was already kissing him back.

His hands burned through my clothes, and I could swear he heard my heart racing. I decided I liked kissing Dorian Evans a whole lot and sank my fingers into his hair to somehow draw him closer to me. All of the stress and tension I'd been feeling simply melted away, leaving only a delicious warmth that spread across my skin and expelled the chill of the cold night.

He broke away suddenly as raised voices from nearby broke through the haze. I'd forgotten all about the party.

He looked at me with regret, mere inches from my face, his eyes bright and shining, and his cheeks flooded with colour. "I have to deal with that before a fight breaks out."

"Why?" I couldn't have kept the disappointment out of my voice even if I tried.

He kissed me once more, his hands cupping my face. "I don't want any trouble to ruin tonight. But I'll be back." He got up, but he had only made it a few steps away before he turned back, a huge grin on his face. "I like how you taste, new girl."

_He did not just say that._ The flush was still rising in my cheeks when Emma found me, looking irritable. "Adam's being really annoying, and I have to pee. Come with?"

I pointed behind her. "Somebody said we can use that house."

"Come with me," she pleaded. "I'm too scared to go in there alone."

The last thing I wanted to do was leave my spot on the bench instead of waiting for Dorian. "What do you think is going to happen?"

She shivered dramatically.

Chloe's warning not to go inside alone came back to me. If she was willing to accompany me, then it was the least I could do for her friend. I rolled my eyes. " _Fine_. I'll come with you."

She linked arms with me as she led me to the house, but she stalled at the open door, unable to force herself to keep going. She really did seem nervous, so I took the lead.

I had no idea what had gone on before I moved to town, but spending time with Dorian, and even meeting his guardians, made Chloe and Emma's fears seem ridiculous.

We found the bathroom and used it, but Emma had relaxed by then and was reluctant to leave.

"If we're here, we might as well take a look around," she whispered. "I've never been in one of their houses before!"

"You do realise they're normal people," I said. "It's not like they're aliens or anything."

Ignoring me, she wandered along the landing, pointing out a dream catcher on the wall. "My house doesn't have anything like that hanging up in the hall."

But it wasn't the dream catcher that had drawn my attention. The walls were covered in photos and paintings of wolves. I wondered if we were in Ms. Rivers's house. If so, she had a bit of an obsession. Emma disappeared into a bedroom, and I followed, intending to drag her out of there before somebody noticed we were missing.

But as soon as I stepped into the room, I felt trapped, suffocated in a dream. Colours seemed to shift, and the air gathered around me. I forgot all about Emma. Something tugged me forward, drawing me toward a wardrobe. I reached up, not knowing why, and when my arms dropped, my hands were full.

"What the hell is that?" Emma released a sudden squeal. "Oh, my God! It's a spirit board!"

"What?" I shook myself out of a trance to see that she was right. It was an old-fashioned spirit board. What an odd thing to find.

Emma stole it out of my hands to shove inside her bag. "We could scare the shit out of those stuck-up idiots," she whispered. "What else do they have in here?"

"What are you doing here?" a male voice asked.

I whirled around in shock, facing a good-looking blond man with a significant gap between his upper front teeth. "Um."

"We were looking for the bathroom," Emma blurted.

"It's down the hall," he said softly, but there was nothing kind in his tone. Suddenly, _desperately_ , I wanted to leave.

"Great," Emma said uneasily. "Thanks."

She raced out of the room. I followed, and as I passed the man, he took a step back. I looked at him, saw alarm and distress in his gaze, and then it was gone. "Hurry on then," he said.

Emma made a show of using the bathroom, and then we left, that man shadowing us all the way outside.

Outside, I couldn't see him, but I felt his gaze on my back, remembered his reaction to me. I rubbed at my arms, my skin prickling at the thought of him looking at me. Why did _I_ feel like the strange one?

"Come on," Emma said. "I can't wait to show this to Chloe. She's going to freak."

"What?"

"The spirit board! It's Halloween. What better night to use it?"

I followed her with a sigh. It was just another cliché Halloween, spirit board and all.

# Chapter 12

Dorian

* * *

Margo had disappeared, and I wasn't sure if she had left. I had at least hoped to walk her home, to get a chance to kiss her again, to just be next to her.

I hadn't planned on kissing her, but I'd made a discovery. Once I got past that chill around her, it embraced me, drew me into a hidden warmth that made it impossible not to want to be close to her. Maybe she'd been hurt before, and the wolf sensed the walls she surrounded herself with, but there was more to Margo than what lay on the surface.

"Dorian!" Mara slapped my shoulder as she jogged past me. "Stop dreaming and hurry up!"

"To where?"

She stopped walking and glanced around her as though checking to see who was within hearing distance.

I hurried to catch up to her. "What's going on?"

"Somebody brought a spirit board," she said under her breath. "It's our perfect chance to rile up those idiots. They've only been sniffing around us because of Margo. You know they're going to act like we don't exist as soon as we see them again. So _we're_ going to teach them a lesson."

"What are we going to do?"

"Fake out a ghost, of course," she said scornfully. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Dor."

I followed her out of curiosity. The adults had relaxed after we finally mingled and gone inside, but that was probably a bad idea.

"Where are we going then?"

"Your house," she said.

"No! Mara, not my place. Nathan will freak."

"We're not bringing _everyone_ inside, don't worry! Besides, Nathan's a soft touch on you. You're the safest bet. Come on. It's the adults' faults for not taking better care of us." She laughed. "Live a little for once. Your new best friend is already getting dragged along."

"Really?" I brightened. "Maybe it won't be a complete disaster then."

Mara patted my arm. "Don't get too close to her. I like her, but she's one of them, and you know it. You'll be the one who gets hurt."

I hated when she talked like that. "Maybe this one will be different."

"It doesn't matter how different she is. She's not a wolf. She's not for _you_. Nathan and Perdita are the exception, not the rule. And we have a responsibility to keep our bloodlines strong, no matter what the alpha says about integrating. You could end up with a decent wolf, like Alison even, so don't waste time on people who don't belong with us."

"I don't want Alison," I protested.

"We'll find you somebody. You're supposed to be trying to fit in, remember? Best way to show you're useful and reliable is to settle down with one of us, someone the alpha wants to keep around. _That's_ your future. I'm not telling you to hate Margo or even to ignore her, just to remember that it won't go anywhere. She'd never understand you." She looked at me, letting me see a brief flash of pain in her eyes. " _Us_."

But I felt more comfortable around Margo than even Mara, and that said so much to me.

Mara dragged me into my own house, where a dozen teenagers were standing around the living room, looking awkward.

Margo was already there, gazing intently at the spirit board on the coffee table.

I squeezed in next to her. "Lame, eh?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah." But her gaze never reached mine.

"You believe in this stuff or something?" I asked nervously.

She finally looked at me, straightening her hunched back. "Of course not." She grinned. "Let's see who freaks out first."

I glanced around the room. Emma's hands were visibly shaking. "My money's on your girl over there."

Margo giggled. "Or your boy."

She meant Victor, but he trembled with excitement, not fear. The thought of getting one over on the other side of town was almost too much for him. I cast a wary look his way, ready to haul him out of there if he lost control.

The room was full, too small for so many tense werewolves and unsuspecting humans. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. I opened my mouth to ask Margo if she wanted to leave when Emma stood and called for quiet.

"All right then," she began. "We all put a finger on the cup, we ask it a question, and we let it move." Her eyes sparkled as she exchanged a look with Chloe. "No cheating."

I tasted her falseness in my mouth but held in a smile. If both groups were trying to pull the same trick, nobody would come out on top. I glanced at Margo. "Ready?"

She shrugged, but her gaze had turned intense again, and a bitter taste in the back of my throat warned that she might be playing the game, too.

I laid a finger on the cup and shivered as Margo's finger brushed against mine. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyelashes looked white against her blue—Wait, blue?

I looked again, but her eyes were shut, and she was breathing heavily, her hands trembling as the rest of the group rushed to touch the cup.

"Margo?" I whispered. "You okay?"

She nodded, her lips pressed tight together, but the skin on her hand was ice-cold next to mine.

I took her free hand in mine, making an effort not to recoil from her touch. She squeezed so tight, her knuckles whitened.

"Oh, spirit world," Emma said in a patronising tone. "Hear our calls on All Hallows' Eve, the night when the walls between worlds are at their weakest."

"What did you do?" Mara asked nastily. "Memorise that from a film?" She only said that because it was something us ferals used to do to learn how to fit into the real world. It never worked.

"Shut up," Emma hissed back. "Nobody cares where I got it from. If it works," she tossed her blond curls over her shoulder, "then it works."

I rolled my eyes and waited, my shoulders tense. The chill that Margo expended was increasing. Maybe it had something to do with her fear. Maybe she naturally shielded herself when she was afraid or—

"Spirits of the... spirit world." Some snickers followed. "Hear our calls. Are you out there?"

The cup moved slowly to the word yes.

"Shocking," I murmured.

Somebody shushed me, and Emma continued asking dull questions with yes or no answers.

"What do you need?" Margo said out of the blue.

"Hey," Emma said indignantly. "This is _my_ —"

Somebody must have opened the front door because a breeze ran around the room, brushing all of us with its touch. Instinctively, I let go of the cup and put my arm around Margo. She leaned against me, impossibly cold. The cup moved again, this time frighteningly fast. It spelled out a word.

"Help?" Chloe murmured, looking uncomfortable.

The cup kept moving, so fast that the others barely kept their fingers on top of it. One by one, they broke away as more letters were used, spelling out "help me". It kept going, reaching an M, an A, an R. I glanced at Margo right as the board was flung up into the air, the cup hitting the ceiling and cracking before falling back down at Emma's feet. Her scream was authentic, full of genuine fear, but the shock in Mara's eyes wasn't fake either. I couldn't figure out who had done it.

The lights flickered off and on, and the windows flew open then slammed shut. Half the room was screaming by then. But Margo's eyes were wide open, and everywhere she looked, something else happened.

"Are you... doing this?" I asked as books flew across the room.

She blinked a couple of times and looked at me in confusion. Her eyes were grey again. "Doing what?"

The chairs and coffee table lifted then jerked across the room. A chair knocked Adam over. He fled, screaming incoherently. People ran out of the house after him, pushing each other, shouting for help. A book flew across the room. Margo and I ducked, and it sailed over our heads.

"Let's get out of here," I shouted above the howling wind.

Still holding her hand, I yanked her to her feet. She stumbled after me. Chloe lay trapped under the coffee table somehow, frozen into place in fear. I lifted it to free her. She didn't even thank me. She just got out of there. I whirled around to find Margo. She was the only one left in the room, and she was standing in front of a heavy bookcase that was violently shaking of its own accord.

I jumped over the sofa as the bookcase began to fall. I righted it in time and looked at Margo who was still staring, her face almost unrecognisable in its strangeness.

"Stop this!" I shouted. "Whatever you're doing, stop it!"

She blinked, her expression so normal that I doubted myself. "What are you talking about? You're the ones playing a stupid prank."

"This isn't—" I heard the crack a split second before I reacted. I grabbed Margo, held her against my chest and turned my back as the window smashed and covered us with glass. A couple of shards pierced my skin, but I barely felt the sting in my anger. I shook Margo. "You're going to get somebody hurt."

"Dorian," she whispered, reaching up for my cheek. "You're bleeding." She touched me, and my sight went black. Something was in my body, sharing space with me. My inner wolf howled and squirmed and fought, and together, we pushed the new presence out of us.

I awoke on the floor in the kitchen, a knife in my hand. "What. The. _Hell_." I dropped the weapon, horrified. What had happened?

_Margo_.

I followed her scent through the living room. The place looked trashed, but at least the furniture had stopped moving of its own accord.

Outside, Margo left a trail of fallen werewolves behind her. I spotted her walking away from Victor who lay in a daze on the ground. When she passed Mara, my friend froze to the spot, her hands clutching at her throat. Margo kept walking. I ran after her, unsure of what I was even supposed to do. Margo headed right for Nathan who had come running from somewhere, obviously looking for the source of the trouble. I heard Byron and Perdita pleading with people to calm down, but my focus was on the new girl.

I didn't reach her in time. She stood in front of Nathan, her blue eyes staring as he fought off the presence in his body. His eyes were wild, but he had enough control left to point at me.

"Get the girl out of here. Hurry!" There was too much of the wolf in his voice. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Margo's arm, refused to let go, and dragged her away from the houses. Behind us, Nathan was bent over, breathing heavily as he tried to contain his wolf.

"Gone," Margo said in a daze. "It's gone."

I shoved her off our territory. "What did you do to us?" I demanded.

Her eyes were still blue, and her voice lifeless. "Nothing yet." She shook herself off, her gaze searching for something. She looked at me as though for the first time, her gaze grey and terrified. "What did _you_ do? Was kissing me some kind of prank, too? What's _wrong_ with you people?"

She turned on her heel and ran away from me, almost falling in her haste. I watched her go, a storm of emotions fighting for centre stage. I had kissed her—I _liked_ her—but strange things happened around Margo Harding, things I couldn't explain.

As she ran down the road, Chloe and Emma met her as though they had been waiting for her, and the girls held hands, talking excitedly as they hurried away as a group. Nothing strange happened between them. At least I knew Margo would get home safe.

A couple of stragglers hurried past me. The party was definitely over.

As I headed back toward the bonfire, I pulled out the shards of glass I could reach, which wasn't many. Perdita found me and ushered me into Byron's house where an emergency meeting was being held.

Dom looked me over sternly. "He shouldn't be here."

"He's hurt," Perdita said sharply. "I can help him and listen at the same time."

"I'll do it," Nathan said, calmly steering me away from Perdita. She felt our injuries too strongly as his mate, worried too much as a human. And it wasn't Dom's business anyway.

"What the hell happened out there tonight?" Byron demanded.

The lights in the room flickered.

"I think it's still happening," I whispered.

" _What_?" he barked. "Dorian, what did you say?"

The wolf cringed backward, and I had to work up my courage just to speak again. " _This_ is what happened." I gestured toward the flickering lights. We all jumped as a door slammed shut somewhere upstairs. "They had a spirit board, and everything started going crazy when we used it."

"You used a spirit board?" Perdita asked in disbelief. "What were you thinking?"

"That it's stupid," I said. "We didn't believe in it. But... everyone wanted to play a joke, and I suppose... something went wrong."

"Wait here," Perdita said and ran from the room. She was back within minutes, her face pale. "It was Amelia's. They took her board and used it on Halloween."

No way could the night get worse. Amelia would freak when she found out we touched her stuff.

"But how could the board work for a bunch of kids?" Nathan asked.

"Amelia and I were a bunch of kids when we used it," Perdita said. "Amelia's link to her dead ancestor only increased when she used the board."

I shrank into myself, wishing I was anywhere else. What a disaster.

"What are you saying happened?" Dominic asked. "That a _townie_ somehow linked to Amelia's ancestor?"

Perdita wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know what happened. That's why we need Amelia back."

"She's on pack business," Byron said. "We may not even be able to contact her tonight."

"I saw a couple of kids in the house," Dominic said. "They were using the bathroom, but they must have stolen the board." He scowled. "One of them... she was odd. I felt so cold around her."

Perdita shot me a concerned look. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Margo? _She_ had stolen the board? Perdita shook her head slightly as if to say, _not now_.

"Where is the board now?" Nathan asked.

"It's in our living room," I said. "It threw itself into the air, things started flying around the room, Margo almost got squashed by the bookcase, and the window went to pieces and flew at us."

"I can see that," Nathan said, pulling a shard of glass free a little harder than necessary. "My sister always said the board was dangerous, on some occasions more than others, but I assumed she was the danger, rather than the board, that it was her power giving the board the means to make mischief."

Maybe someone else had given power to the board, someone who had made me feel invaded. "Something was inside me." All eyes turned to me. "I felt it, another presence. My wolf didn't like it, and we fought back. When it left, moments had passed, and I had a knife in my hand. I don't know what happened. I must have blanked out, but there was _something_."

"How is that even possible?" Dominic said sharply.

"No, he's right," Nathan said. "I felt it, too. I wasn't sure what happened, but now that he says it, I agree it felt like an invasion. It wasn't there for long, but it didn't belong."

"So where did it go?" Perdita said. "Is it still flying around trying to invade people's bodies?" Her voice rose sharply.

"It could be," Nathan said.

Unless it had found someone who couldn't fight back.

"You're telling me our teenagers let a spirit free?" Byron massaged his temples. "We need to fix this."

"How?" Dominic asked.

"Amelia," Nathan said. "We need her to come back and help us deal with this. It's our responsibility. We can't let a spirit roam the streets causing mayhem. Or worse. We're feared enough."

"What will we tell everyone?" Dominic asked.

"If anyone asks..." Byron sighed. "The children played a prank, took it too far. Anything beyond that isn't us, or can be pinned on mild hysteria."

In the distance, a scream sounded. I shivered incessantly.

"Stop," Nathan said uneasily. "We all need to stay calm. Whatever this presence is, it almost provoked my wolf. It's been years since I felt so out of control."

Perdita put her hand in his.

"What if it hurts someone?" I asked. "It almost hurt Margo." That was true, so true that it made me wonder if she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe the spirit had possessed _her_ —that would explain the blankness in her eyes, the confusion that had felt real in her voice. And I'd accused her. She'd probably never speak to me again.

"Margo's fine," Nathan said. "Don't worry. Amelia will fix everything."

I didn't know his younger sister well, but plenty of the werewolves didn't trust her because she was more than just a werewolf. Whatever she was, I just hoped she had the power to fix what we had mistakenly started.

# Chapter 13

_M argo_

* * *

_I stood in endless darkness, cold hands gripping me from behind._

_"Warn them," a voice whispered in my ear. "Help me. This is your_ job _."_

* * *

I awoke in a sweat, my heart racing. Another dream. Another nightmare. That spirit board drama had really gotten under my skin. The entire night had been hazy and nightmarish, and I hadn't slept well since.

Halloween definitely fell under the crazy banner. It had gone from a near perfect kiss to disaster in what felt like minutes. Dorian had gotten hurt, people had run screaming from the party, and the corner shop was full of customers speculating on all of the suspicious occurrences that had happened ever since. Everyone had an unexplained phenomenon story all of a sudden. The town was on edge, engulfed in near-hysterical retellings of every urban myth ever.

And the last thing I'd said to Dorian had been an equally hysterical accusation about using me to pull a prank. I'd been scared and confused and a little hurt at the thought the first real connection I'd made might have been one-sided.

My lovebirds huddled in the corner of their cage. They had been acting weirder than usual since I came home from the bonfire party. I still wasn't sure what exactly had happened. I remembered the board, the way it had drawn me to it, sent a shock to my fingertips when I touched it. Pretty much everything after that was a blur until I saw Dorian bleeding. He had been angry with me, there was glass everywhere, and I couldn't shake the feeling I'd fallen asleep again, that something had happened while I was sleepwalking.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" I asked Mam and Dad at breakfast the next morning. I hadn't been able to fall back asleep, and I was sure my attempts to conceal the black bags under my eyes weren't fooling anyone.

"Oh, don't let those idiots scare you." Mam rolled her eyes. "It's all anyone can talk about. It's ridiculous."

"Margo can come with me to work today," Dad said. "It'll keep her mind off it."

"Dad, I don't want to go back there," I said hurriedly. "I don't like that place." And I'd look like an epic stalker, hanging around at Dorian's place after everything that happened.

"That's your imagination going crazy," he said firmly. "There's nothing wrong with those people."

Except that they liked to scare people so much, even their own friends were hurt if they got in the way. A memory came to me in a flash—me, frozen in place as a heavy bookcase threatened to fall on me. Dorian stopped it easily, his rush of adrenaline protecting us both—until the window was smashed in. I remembered his wound, only knew it was real because of the smear of blood left on my own fingers. Dorian was about the only certainty from that night.

Except I wasn't certain about him at all. He'd kissed me like he meant it then helped take part in a dangerous prank. I didn't get it, but I was sure that glass had been meant for me. While I wanted to confront him, I was afraid he'd confirm the kiss had been part of the sick joke. Because I didn't want to hate him. Something about him put me at ease, and kissing him had made me happy, helped me forget how miserable I was supposed to be feeling. I didn't want it to be over before it even started.

Dad drove us to Mr. Evans's home after breakfast, chatting incessantly to keep my mind off things, most likely.

"We're not going to be long though, right?" I said in the car.

"I'm mostly cleaning up the garden, preparing everything for the real work in spring," he said. "Why?"

"No reason," I muttered, gazing out of the window and wishing I was anywhere else in the world.

Mr. Evans himself greeted us outside his house, looking worried and harassed.

I stayed close to Dad, shooting doubtful glances toward the houses.

"I hope you didn't get too much of a fright on Halloween." Mr. Evans addressed me apologetically, and I wondered how much he knew.

"I'm sure it was just a bit of fun that got out of hand," Dad said, but there was a tense note to his words.

My cheeks burned. The last thing we could afford was Dad's protectiveness over me losing his job. "It's our fault for falling for the joke."

"Yes," Mr. Evans said, sounding relieved. "Teenagers and their pranks."

He and Dad exchanged a few horror stories about teenagers. A group of teens I recognised from school wandered toward us, wearing matching sullen looks, while Nathan Evans led the way, stress apparent in his features, too. I felt slightly responsible—I'd done nothing when Emma took the stupid spirit board in the first place, after all. I wanted to hide behind Dad by then.

A fair-haired man stood near one of the houses and stared at me. I remembered him from the party. He'd kicked Emma and me out of the house after she'd stolen the spirit board. That's what I didn't get. How had Dorian's friends known we'd find the thing?

Nathan greeted Dad and me politely, but his gaze lingered on me too long, something a degree short of suspicion darkening his eyes.

"I'm going to the airport to pick her up now," he said to Byron under his breath. "Plane landed early."

"Just her luck," Byron replied.

Nathan left, shooting the teenagers one last warning look.

Byron gestured toward the group. "These are your new helpers," he told Dad. "If they aren't helpful, just let me know."

"I'm sure they'll do fine," Dad said, looking uncomfortable. Helping him had obviously turned out to be a punishment for the prank they'd pulled.

I spotted Dorian skulking past and followed him unthinkingly, my eyes unable to believe what they were seeing.

"Was the glass a joke, too?" I demanded. His skin was blemish free, but I clearly remembered the glass shard that had been embedded into his cheek. I saw it, and now there was no mark at all. Not possible.

"What are you on about?" he asked, refusing to look at me. The other teens watched us closely, but none said a word.

"The big Halloween prank you all played," I said. "I thought you were really hurt, but you haven't got a mark on you."

"You should know," Victor said harshly. "The spirit board was your gang's idea, remember?"

"I don't have a gang, Mr. West Side Story," I spat. "And it wasn't my idea either."

"But you did something," Dorian said softly, turning to look at me. "Didn't you?"

"I wasn't in on your prank," I said, feeling completely confused. "What are you even on about?"

"She's telling the truth," Mara said. "She doesn't know anything about it. It was probably those other two."

Dorian looked relieved. "All right then."

What the hell was even going on? "All right? Mara says so, and everything's okay? That's it?"

"That's it." He walked over to my dad as if the conversation was over.

"Leave it, Margo," Mara said. "You don't get it."

"That's obvious."

Victor snorted then followed Dorian.

"You were never supposed to," Mara said wearily before joining them.

Dad gave everyone jobs, pairing me up with Dorian as though he wanted to make things more awkward. We used a wheelbarrow to transport bags of dirt across the garden in silence.

A door slammed somewhere nearby, and Dorian flinched. I wasn't the only jumpy one. I looked around the garden, my gaze landing on a patch of violets.

"Where are you going?" Dorian asked sharply. "You're supposed to be helping me."

I froze, realising I had left him to walk over to the flowers. "I just thought I saw a... mouse or something," I muttered then returned to help him. Not that he needed my help. He was fine pushing the wheelbarrow alone.

After a few more moments of complete and utter dead silence, I couldn't take it anymore. "How did you do it?" I demanded. "How did you fake the glass and your wounds?"

He stared at me for a long time. "Let's drop the subject."

"I don't want to—" I whirled around as a strange sensation filtered around me.

"Margo?"

"Déjà vu." It was like my dream, some kind of pull, a sense of urgency that gripped me so tightly, my heart pounded. I'd felt it before, figured it was a panic attack, a trigger for the sleepwalking.

"Margo, seriously, what's wrong?" He gently gripped my wrist. "Your heart is racing."

I shrugged Dorian off, focusing instead on what was bothering me. He was right about my heart, but _something_ had to cause the panic.

I remembered—the same thing had happened at the party. Fear had filled me, a sense of foreboding I couldn't shake, but it was that feeling that had drawn me to the spirit board. I'd traced an invisible line that had been cut short. That's when everything had gone to hell. Something... _something_ weird was going on. I knew it—everyone knew it—but nobody could say exactly what it was.

" _Margo_."

I took a step back, feeling as though something were advancing on me. I glanced around and saw nothing, but I held up my hands, panicked as I half-feared I was losing my mind. Sleep-walking while awake. That was new.

I braced myself... and then it hit me. Nothing, but a nothing so hard that I flew backward and right into Dorian's arms.

"What the hell?" I said with a whimper, rubbing at a sudden pain in my chest.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked, holding on as though I were about to faint or something.

"What was _that_?" I asked.

"You tripped," he said firmly, but I heard a tinge of unease in his voice.

"No, I didn't." I stepped away from him to take in his appearance. He looked about as freaked out as I felt.

"Then I don't know."

"There's something really weird going on." An awful thought struck me. "Am I awake?"

"Excuse me?"

Could I even explain it to him?

The wheelbarrow turned over by itself. I yelped with fright and barrelled back into Dorian. He held on to me as though for support. The bags sliced open simultaneously, and dirt flew up into the air, then rained down on us. We covered our faces until it was over, and then we gaped at each other.

"That happened," I whispered.

"Yeah." He sounded as freaked out as I felt.

We both gazed at the wheelbarrow in silence for a moment.

Dorian snapped out of it first and ushered me away. "I'll clean this up," he said hurriedly. "You should go, Margo."

"Wait! What's happening?" I demanded.

"I've no idea," he said. "Just _go_."

Dad came jogging over, looking concerned. "Is everything okay over here?"

I shook my head numbly.

"She twisted her ankle and knocked over the wheelbarrow," Dorian said confidently, no trace of the lie in his words. "I'll clean this up, but you should get Margo home, Mr. Harding. We'll carry on here until you get back."

Dad had to help me to the car. My ankle wasn't hurt, but I was trembling like a leaf.

"I can stay home with you," he said as he drove.

"I'm fine," I lied. I wasn't fine at all. I was freaking the hell out.

And as soon as I was alone at home, I took off my shirt and stared in horror into the mirror at a bruise in the centre of my chest, shaped like a hand.

# Chapter 14

_D orian_

* * *

As soon as the car was out of sight, I ran to find Byron. He was in the middle of a discussion with Dominic, one of the few dominant wolves who didn't constantly treat me like crap, Cecilia, one of those middling wolves who liked to bark to cover up their lack of bite, and Jorge, a young Portuguese wolf who lived with the rest of his family in another part of town.

"It attacked Margo," I said, panting and pointing. "The sp..." I swallowed hard. "Spirit thing."

"Calm down," Byron said. "Tell me exactly what happened."

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to reassure the wolf within. We hadn't been able to protect Margo from something we hadn't been able to see, and that was freaking us out. A sharp cold spike found its way into my gut. Margo had known. She'd panicked before I even realised anything was wrong.

Jorge laid a hand on my shoulder. "Dorian, relax."

I sucked in a deep breath. "Margo was helping in the garden, and then she suddenly acted really scared. Her heart started racing. I didn't know what was happening. She held up her hands as though to protect herself, then _something_ just came at her. It knocked her over then destroyed the bags of dirt."

"Something?" Dom said warily.

"I didn't see it, but it was there. Just like the other night."

"Are you sure?" Cecilia asked. "She didn't trick you?"

"I'm sure. She flew back like something rammed right into her. Then the bags ripped open by themselves, and the dirt just flew everywhere. That's the second time it's tried to hurt her. This can't be a coincidence."

"That girl was one of the pair who stole the spirit board," Dominic said. "Maybe she has something to do with the spirit."

"What, it's a relative who happened to be waiting to hurt her?" Byron asked, sounding unconvinced. "Who happened to be hovering around nearby, ready to be released?"

"We don't know anything about this girl," Cecilia said. "We don't know the kinds of people she's descended from."

"She's adopted," I said. "She doesn't even know who her ancestors are."

"Then it must be a coincidence," Dominic said. "Bad timing and proximity. If there really is a malevolent spirit roaming freely, then we need to get rid of it before the entire pack gets spooked. People are already talking about leaving." He shot Byron a meaningful look. "Like Eric."

Except Eric had never spoken about leaving to me, and I'd seen him a lot before he left. What had changed _his_ mind?

"Nathan's on his way to pick up Amelia," Byron said. "When she gets here, she'll help us figure this out."

"The pack doesn't trust the witch," Dom said in a hushed voice.

"Then the pack doesn't know what's good for it," Byron said. He didn't raise his voice, but the hair on the back of my neck stood to attention as though he had roared.

"We have to do something." Cecilia pulled at her sleeves, panic flaring in her eyes. "Half of us can't sleep because of doors banging and random things shattering."

"Nothing has happened in my home," Jorge said reassuringly steadily, refusing to panic.

Cecilia glared at him. "Yeah, well, this thing has been attacking _us_ , and now it's going after humans who visit us. We can't let this happen. The police have already been to see us twice this week. If that girl mentions this—"

"She won't," I said. "She's not gossipy like that."

"You don't even know her," Cecilia said, not unkindly. "We have to stick together now, Dorian. It's the only way to protect ourselves. Close ourselves in, deal with this mess, and hope that nobody else interferes."

"She's right," Dominic said. "We need to lock this down. No more outsiders. It's not safe for them. So that landscaper needs to go, and that girl can't be welcomed here."

"I hired the man for a long-term project." Byron frowned, rubbing his temples. "I can't just fire him."

"Then put him off for a while. Tell him we have guests, and one's recuperating from an illness, so you'd like to give them some peace and quiet. It's not like he can plant anything this late in the year. _Lie_ ," Dominic urged. "It's what we have to do for survival."

Byron gazed at him for a long time before nodding. "I can do that." He glanced at me. "Make sure that girl is all right, Dorian. I'm not comfortable with innocents being harmed, and she's been attacked twice already. Make sure that doesn't happen again."

"He needs to keep away from her," Dominic began.

Byron's gaze chilled. "He needs to obey his alpha."

My knees quivered at the warning in his tone but Dom bowed his head, diffusing the tension.

I ducked away from the conversation after making my promises to Byron. I liked Byron, respected him, even feared him a little, but I wasn't as comfortable around him as I was with Nathan. I never had been, but at least he wasn't trying to widen the gap between us and those who had always lived in the town. I didn't want Margo, who had been nice to me, to fall into the same pointless divide. Even if a part of me knew she could be connected to everything that was going wrong.

I sensed the wariness of some of the pack as we awaited Amelia's arrival. It didn't matter that she had spent a lot of time gathering wolves under the alpha's protection. To many of them, Amelia was dangerous. Not just a powerful werewolf or witch, but an omega, the only one in existence for a long time. She kept the balance, but some feared she kept the balance in her own blood's favour.

Nathan and Perdita loved her. That was enough for me. I didn't know her as well because she had been away for most of the last three years, and she hadn't been the one who found me. On that first day, it had been Nathan who picked me up into his arms and told me I was going to be okay. It was Nathan who I would always be grateful towards. And I still feared Amelia was mad at me for overhearing her confess her love to a wolf who told her a relationship between them could never happen.

We had a pack meeting outside when she arrived. Byron and Amelia sat on a bench while people gathered before them. Nathan and Ryan stood on either side of them while every wolfhound we owned lay pressed as close to Amelia's feet as possible.

I lingered to the side of the crowd, watching Amelia hide her surprise at the apprehension echoing back at her from the pack who stood around, too on edge to even sit on the grass as they normally would.

The omega was striking, otherworldly, even. Her deep tan somehow made Nathan look paler. Her brown wavy hair was longer than on her last visit, shaved on one side, and loosely plaited to the right. She wore modest, loose clothing that covered her skin, and so much jewellery that she tinkled when she walked—like a cat wearing a bell, warning us all she was nearby. Petite and lean, Nathan's younger sister had ancient eyes, and when she angered, the wolf didn't look back at you. Something far worse did.

"We believe we're being haunted," Byron said, a little gingerly, casting a wary glance toward his house. I'd heard a rumour that he'd been trapped inside his own bathroom for an hour that very morning. More likely, he was sick to death of everybody voicing their fears.

"Haunted?" Amelia shrugged. "That's unlikely."

"Well, it's either that or we've the clumsiest pack of all time," Nathan said. "I mean, does anyone have any unbroken cups left?"

Amelia glanced at the paper cup in her hand in surprise. "Is that why I'm drinking out of this? I did wonder. So maybe you're not being overly dramatic."

Nathan made a face. "It wasn't an excuse to get you home."

She smiled, and it was easy to forget I feared her for a moment. "I wondered about that, too. Tell me everything we know."

"Dorian knows the most." Nathan gestured for me to approach. "Tell her what you've seen."

I took a couple of steps forward as everyone's focus turned to me. "Um." I chose my words carefully to avoid stuttering in front of the entire pack. Not that it always helped. "Everything was normal until somebody broke out a spirit board."

" _Your_ board," Nathan told his sister.

"Fools," she hissed under her breath. For an instant, her eyes were silver, and I couldn't speak.

"It's all right," Nathan murmured. "Tell her the rest."

Shivering, I continued. "I think half the people at the table were moving the cup at first. But there was something... odd about it. Then one of the girls asked what the spirit wanted, and the cup started to move fast, faster than I could have moved it, never mind half of them at the table. It said it needed help, then it started to spell out a name."

"My name," Mara called out.

"Yours?" I had assumed it was Margo, but why not Mara? I relaxed, a pressure in my chest easing. It had nothing to do with Margo. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Anyway," I said. "Before the word finished spelling out, the board flew up into the air and stuff started to happen."

"Things that couldn't have been a joke or a prank?" Amelia asked, holding my gaze.

I dropped my eyes. "The lights flickered on and off. Things flew across the room, and the doors and windows opened and slammed shut. People started freaking out and running, somebody ended up trapped under the sofa, and one girl, Margo, was standing in front of the bookcase, and it just started falling over. I got in the way and stopped it, but then the glass from the window shattered and flew at us."

"Was she hurt?"

"No, I got in the way."

"Were you hurt?"

"Not much." I shrugged. "We all heal quickly."

"Did anyone notice how quickly you healed?"

"Well, Margo did, but I brushed her off. The thing is, weird stuff has been happening since then, mostly harmless, but Margo was here again, and something flew at her, knocked her down."

"Has anyone she knows died recently?" Amelia asked.

"I don't know. She just moved here."

"Strange," Amelia said under her breath. She brightened. "Not to worry. I'll just have to use the spirit board again. Any volunteers for the circle?"

Most of the pack looked away. Even those who weren't afraid of Amelia feared her magic. Nathan and Perdita volunteered, and I held up my hand, too, partly because I was worried that Margo would get hurt again, partly because I feared she was responsible. At least we would know for sure. Dominic, Mara, Victor, and Alex all volunteered, too.

"Great," Amelia said brightly. "That should be enough for the circle. Let's get to it."

"Now?" Mara asked in surprise.

"The sooner the better," Amelia said. "Whatever was set loose on the world needs to be contained before it can do any real damage. Dorian, come help me set up."

She turned without waiting for an answer, leaving me to hurry after her. Nathan and Perdita joined us, hand in hand.

"Is Margo a friend of yours?" Amelia asked me, slowing her pace to look at me. I had an odd feeling that she had just separated me from the pack to question me.

"She could be," I said. "If she isn't turned against us first."

Amelia blinked in surprise. "Has it gotten so bad?"

"Both sides have made things worse," Perdita said from behind us. "People are suspicious of half the pack, and they should be, what with the way they behave. The bonfire party seemed to be going well, but this issue of a prank has divided everyone again."

"Byron's going to have to do something soon," Amelia said. "Why has he let this go on for so long?"

"It's a dominant heavy pack," Nathan said, "but they still need to be helped. They'll never settle into the real world without this place."

Amelia shrugged. "Do you trust them all?"

He laughed. "I wouldn't put a group challenge past half of them, even after everything he's done for them. He can't send them off because most of them are nowhere near ready to live away from him. It's difficult while nature tries to balance itself out. It means too many wolves of different ages need to be close to the alpha. But in the long run, it's for the best. The more stable the pack is, the better chance the feral teens have. No offence, Dorian."

I didn't mind the term. Most of the pack's problems came from the younger wolves. Even those who had left their teens behind, like Alex or Dom, were still dealing with the challenges of their upbringings.

"I thought I saw a good future for us here," Amelia said sadly as I opened my front door for her. "We changed this town for the better."

Inside, Nathan sat on the sofa. "We need you here more often. Especially now when we don't have nearly enough space for everyone. The teens alone outnumber the adults, and they're constantly getting on each others' nerves."

Nobody had expected me to shift, but I'd known the wolf for as long as I could remember—I just suppressed the shift so I wouldn't stand out. The pack thought I wasn't enough of a wolf, and I wasn't much of one if I couldn't even protect one girl from a ghost.

"Byron needs to send away the most dominant wolves and disperse the weird tension here. I felt it as soon as I got into town. There are too many conflicting members in too confined a space." Amelia searched her bags for the things she needed. "Taking more territory here just puts eyes on us that we don't need. We need to establish territory elsewhere. New packs under this one. It's time to spread some wings."

"He thinks he can tame them here before they move on," Perdita said, sitting next to Nathan. "Make them more human so they'll have easier lives elsewhere."

"And they don't like that either," Nathan said, automatically pulling Perdita closer. "But what's the alternative?"

"We don't want to find out." Amelia straightened her back. "I think I have everything. I'll set up the circle. Dorian, please go get the others. We'll begin soon."

Ryan knocked on the living room door before popping his head around. "Need a hand yet?"

"Ryan," Amelia said warmly. "I haven't had a chance to say hello to you properly."

"We're all busy with this spirit," he said stiffly.

"Come on," Nathan said to me as he got to his feet. "I'll help you round up the rest of them."

Relieved, I let Nathan usher me out of the room. "Are you all right?" he whispered. "You seem rattled."

"Just not used to dealing with spirits." Not quite the truth, but I didn't want to discuss his sister with him.

He sighed. "Trust me. Nobody here is. But Amelia will fix everything. She always does."

I wished I had his confidence.

By the time we returned with the others, Amelia was ready. Tall white candles were lit in a circle, pretty coloured crystals surrounding each candle. The omega sat cross-legged in the circle, a look of peace plastered all over her expression.

Alex made to back out of the room, but Dom forced her forward. I went ahead, knowing the others would feel they had to follow if even the weak one wasn't afraid. Perdita shot me a knowing smile, and some of the tension in the pit of my stomach eased off.

"Sit," Amelia said. "Hold hands. I'll draw power from you all, and it may help me reach whatever is out there."

I nervously took a seat next to Nathan who took my hand.

"Stay calm," he murmured. "There's nothing to fear."

But the memory of Halloween night was still fresh in my mind. A second try at the spirit board seemed a lot like tempting fate.

Mara sat on the other side of me. She looked fine, but she gripped my hand a little too tight.

"Let's begin," Amelia said, her voice somehow richer than before. "The line between worlds is still thin. It won't take much for us to fix this mess."

The others already had their eyes closed, but I couldn't make myself. I watched Amelia as she held out her hands, palms up, wondering if I imagined the slight halo of light around her. She whispered under her breath, and the candles flared, making my wolf want to retreat. Amelia gave me a stern glance, as though hearing me separate from the wolf. She was certain we were one and the same, but it just wasn't like that for me. And maybe that was the problem.

Amelia closed her eyes and gasped as a shudder ran through her body. Ryan's eyes opened, focused on her as though ready to interfere if something went wrong. Amelia's eyelids shot open, and her brown eyes turned an unsettling shade of silver. Margo's eyes had changed, too. Perhaps she had magic in her, and that was why the spirit came after her.

Amelia spoke under her breath, whispering guttural words I couldn't make out. The air felt different. The hairs on my arms stood to attention. I didn't like the sensation.

A knock at the front door sounded. Werewolves rarely knocked at the front door.

Amelia raised her hand and one of the candles went out.

"Get rid of whoever it is," Dominic told me.

I obeyed—because of course I did—and got to my feet. As soon as I moved away, the candle relit, reforming the broken circle of light.

At the front door, I almost fell back in shock when I saw Margo standing there, looking furious. Of all the people, and all of the bad timing...

"Why did your whatever he is sack my dad?" she demanded. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

"No." I held up my hands. "He's not sacked. The job has to be put off for a bit is all. And I don't have time to talk."

She pointed a finger at me. "I saw you that night. It wasn't a trick or a joke. There was glass stuck into your flesh, and there's not a mark on you now. That's not normal, so what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing!"

"Liar! Something pushed me. You were there, you saw. But you weren't even shocked! You know something."

"I really don't have time for this, Margo. We'll talk later, but for now, you have to... Are you all right?"

She leaned against the doorway, breathing heavily, her eyes squeezed shut, and if possible, her skin grew even more wan than usual.

"Hey, are you sick or something?"

She opened her eyes, and they were blue and unseeing. I stepped back instinctively as the chill around her suddenly expanded, suffocating me. She walked right by me while I tried to gather myself. Following, I grabbed her arm to stop her, but she shoved me aside with unnatural strength. She strode straight into the living room as though she knew exactly where she was going.

And then everything went haywire. From behind Margo, I watched in horror as the candles burned out then flared. Alex screamed, her eyes wide with too much of the wolf. Dom tried to calm her, but he looked panicked himself.

Amelia struggled to stand as though something pressed her to the floor. Ryan reached for her hand, but as soon as their fingers touched, he was flung back to the wall, too far from the ground.

"Run," he said through grit teeth as Nathan rushed over to help him down.

Mara and Victor leapt to their feet, looking from one side of the room to the other as though wondering what to do next. I moved past Margo to help Perdita out of the room, but some kind of energy forced me back. Everyone in the room was shoved away from the circle, away from Amelia, and pinned against the walls, including me.

Everyone except Margo.

Panicked, I fought to free myself, but whatever was holding me was far stronger than a werewolf. Margo went straight for the circle—and the spirit board.

"Margo!" I shouted. "Don't go any closer!"

Amelia was still crying out commands at an unseen spirit, holding up her hands as though to ward herself from something.

Margo turned around and looked right at me—through me—and a manic look filled her eyes. Wolf didn't recognise her anymore. Her body stiffened, and her mouth opened and closed a few times. Finally, she shouted out two words in an impossibly deep voice that wasn't hers, "Protect them!"

The lightbulb over her head shattered on top of her. She shook off the glass as whatever was holding me back set me free. I ran to Margo, and she collapsed in my arms, a trickle of blood running from her nose.

Ryan fell heavily, then a shroud of silence slipped over the room, only broken by a hiccupped sob coming from a distressed Alex. The candles went out. Margo had fainted. I looked from one face to the other, checking that everyone was all right. Nathan and Perdita were embracing, Ryan was lying on his back, breathing deeply, Victor and Mara had huddled close together, and Amelia was staring at me.

I stared back at her. "Did you fix it?"

Amelia rubbed her face, looking exhausted. "I don't know," she admitted. " _Something_ happened. I just don't know what."

# Chapter 15

Margo

* * *

A million pincer-armed creatures were trying to dig a hole through to my brain. That was the only explanation for the searing pain in the back of my skull.

"She's waking up," an unfamiliar voice said.

I stiffened. I wasn't at home, wasn't in bed. That usually meant bad, awful, terrible things. I lay there for a moment, terrified to uncover the aftermath.

"Margo?" Dorian whispered.

I opened my eyes immediately to see his pensive expression too close to mine and realised he was basically cradling me. I backed up to get out of his arms, and my head collided with somebody's chin.

"Ow," a woman said.

I looked around, but I didn't recognise the young woman rubbing her chin. She winced. "I think she'll be fine."

Those two weren't the only ones in the room. Glancing around, I recognised Dorian's guardians, but my vision blurred after them, and I had to rub my eyes as the pounding in my head only worsened.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked croakily. "Where am I?"

"In my house," Dorian said. "You kind of fainted or something."

"I fainted?" My cheeks burned. "That's embarrassing."

"Is she all right?" Mara asked. "Should we take her to the hospital? She's scary pale."

"She's always scary pale," Victor huffed.

Great. Of course _they_ had to be there to witness my humiliation.

"I'm fine," I said hurriedly. "Please don't call my parents."

"Too late," Ms. Rivers said. "We had to let them know, Margo. I'm sorry."

I cringed. "Dad's going to act like a big girl about this. I should go home."

"We're going to give you a lift," Nathan Evans told me. "Your parents are on their way home. We'll meet them at your house."

"Oh," I said. "Okay, thanks." I tried to remember what happened, but I couldn't grip onto a solid memory. "I can't even remember getting here," I admitted.

"You came to see Dorian, we think," the woman I had loafed said. She was stunningly beautiful, rocking olive toned skin that had deepened to a bronze tan the models in my magazines would be envious of. I could have sworn I saw her in a dream, but her eyes were a soft, mild brown now, and the silver eyes burning through me before had been impossible.

The mist shifted in my head, and fragments of memory began to pull free of the haze. I had been angry about my father, but that had been an excuse. I had been drawn to Dorian's house like a moth to a flame. I'd been halfway there before I even realised I'd left my own house. Had I slept? Could people sleepwalk while awake? I wasn't alert enough to sort through the jumble of thoughts that followed that question.

"Can you stand?" Dorian asked.

My backside was planted on somebody's living room rug. "Oh." My cheeks warmed.

"Come on." Dorian reached for my hands. I jerked away from his touch, and my face grew hotter. "I'll help you up." This time, he held out his hands.

I stared at his palms for a second before accepting his help, wincing because I half-expected him to drop me as soon as he touched my cold hands. But I was on my feet, and he was looking at me, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Are you all right to walk?"

My knees were shaky, but I felt okay. I nodded, embarrassed by the scrutiny of all those in the room.

"I can carry you," he persisted.

"No!" I pushed him. "Jesus, Dorian."

He laughed heartily, and even Mara was smiling from across the room.

"I think she's okay," he said aloud.

"Don't tease her," Ms. Rivers chided, draping her arm across my shoulder, somehow ignoring my flinch. Was everyone who knew Dorian as tactile as he seemed to be? I just wasn't used to that from anybody but my parents. "Come on, Margo. Nathan will get you home safely."

"Thanks," I mumbled, that ache in my head returning as I tried to look around the room.

"I'll go, too," Dorian said eagerly. For some reason, that embarrassed me all the more.

On the way to the car, I noticed a group of people standing by the front gate, looking at me with suspicious gazes. Amongst them was the man who had almost caught Emma stealing the spirit board. It struck me that I was probably getting the blame for that, too. No wonder they were looking at me so coldly.

Nathan drove me home, and on the way, we passed a group of girls from school who stared at the car as though it were made of horse manure. There went even more potential friendships. After the bonfire party, Chloe and Emma had been visibly scared, blaming Dorian's friends and swearing to cut off all contact with them. They obviously weren't the only ones feeling the same way.

In the backseat, Dorian slid his hand across to mine, not quite touching, but close enough to somehow feel comforting. At least one person in the world didn't completely hate me—although he hadn't tried to follow-up on our kiss, so that probably told me volumes.

"Thanks for the lift," I said when we reached my house. How did you even thank people for taking care of you while you were passed out? "I'll be fine now."

Before I could stop him, Dorian stole my phone from my jacket pocket to type in his number. "Text me if you need any help," he said. "I'll be there."

I scowled at him as I snatched my phone from his grasp. "For future reference, if a girl wants your number, she'll probably ask." I was fairly sure I heard Nathan Evans cover a laugh with a fake cough.

Dorian's face brightened. "You're too proud to ask for my number." Then his expression swiftly turned serious. "Keep the number, Margo. Just in case."

Something about the sincerity in his voice made me nod. "See you around, Dorian."

I got out of the car, a blast of cold breeze blowing the rest of the fuzziness away. I watched the car drive off before letting myself in. My house was empty. My parents hadn't made it home yet.

I curled up on the sofa to rest, suddenly exhausted, and that's when the pieces really knitted together. I had done the same thing after Dad told me his job was being put off for a while. The disappointment he'd tried to hide had almost broken me. My parents had gone shopping for groceries then, and I'd stayed home, hoping that some time alone would help them. The next thing I knew, I'd been shouting at Dorian, giving him a hard time over my father.

Then _something_ had drawn me inside his house. The same thing I had felt on Halloween night. The same thing I had felt before I was knocked over in Dorian's garden. There was something wrong with me, and maybe Dorian's family, too, because I had walked in on them doing some kind of freaky ritual. I only recalled flashes, but there had been candles and hand-holding, for sure. Maybe Emma's cult theory wasn't so crazy after all.

"Margo!"

I sat up and hurriedly smoothed my hair, hoping I didn't look ill.

"In the living room," I called out.

My parents rushed into the room, crowding me on the sofa, asking if I was all right.

I forced out a laugh. "There's nothing wrong with me." Then why couldn't I remember walking to Dorian's house? Why had I fallen asleep and woken up on his doorstep, full of anger and fear?

"What happened?" Mam asked, her voice tinging on hysterical. "Do we need to take you to the emergency room?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I fainted for like a second. I think I must be coming down with something. Maybe I need a tonic or vitamins or something."

"Right now?" Dad asked, getting to his feet and reaching for his keys.

I hid my smile behind my hands. "Not this very minute, no. I'm fine. Sorry I ruined your shopping trip."

"We were worried," Mam said. "You've never fainted before."

"I haven't had much sleep lately," I admitted. "It probably didn't help."

"Well, get some rest now," Dad said.

"And if it'll cheer you up, we took one of the drama club brochures at the community centre," Mam said. "There's some small costs involved, but it's not so bad, so we think we can swing it." She winked at me. "And the odd Pilates class."

I eagerly took the leaflet from her then my face fell. "Are you sure we can afford this?"

"Yes," Mam said firmly. "You need something you love to do to help you settle here."

"You might make some friends," Dad said, patting my hand.

I lay back on the sofa. Maybe a bit of normality would do me good, but there had to be a way for me to get a job to pay for the drama club myself. I knew my parents were trying to cheer me up, but with everything else going on, maybe I needed less of a chance to fall asleep unattended instead.

My parents treated me as though I were made of glass after my little "fainting" incident, but they had no qualms about sending me back to school. As soon as I stepped through the doors, I felt it—hate and anger and fear. Whatever caused the divide had grown worse since the bonfire.

I spotted Dorian's friend, Victor, with a group of others just as Victor shoved a townie into the lockers so hard the metal bent. Things were getting out of hand.

"Stop!" I hurried over. "What are you doing?"

"Keep out of it," Victor said, his gaze intense on the boy he had pushed. The boy looked terrified, and that seemed to rile Victor up all the more.

"Victor," I said sharply.

He looked at me then, an odd glint in his eyes. "Keep. Out of it."

For the first time, I realised Victor was mildly terrifying, but I hated bullies enough to refuse to let him cow me. " _No_ ," I said just as firmly.

He looked faintly surprised. The boy took his chance to run.

"Now look what you did," Victor said. "I'll have to hunt him down again."

A ripple of laughter spread through his group of friends.

"Stop bullying people," I snapped. "He didn't do anything to you."

"Are you serious?" Victor said. "All his crowd have ever done is talk shit about us, blaming us for everything. Halloween was the last bloody straw. Because of those idiots, we're all under... you know what? Never mind."

"No, tell me," I said. "What's going on?"

He lifted his shoulder into a shrug. "Go hang around with your townie buddies."

He turned and walked away. The others shot me scornful glances before following him. If Victor's friends had pulled the prank on Halloween, then why was he so mad at the townies?

I decided it wasn't worth getting into the mind of somebody like Victor and went to my locker instead. Chloe and Emma were holding court a few lockers away, talking loudly about Halloween to anyone who'd listen.

"I felt threatened," Emma said. "Didn't you, Margo?"

I looked over. "Sorry, what?"

"When we used the bathroom. Halloween, remember? That man basically chased us out of the house like we were criminals."

Was she serious? "We'd literally just stolen something from their house."

She rolled her eyes. "The spirit board they conveniently left out for us. All part of the prank." She exchanged a glance with Chloe. "I can't believe you fell for that."

But the spirit board had been pretty well hidden up on top of a high wardrobe.

"They're just animals," Adam said hotly. "We gave them a chance, and they proved us right."

"We'll have to get them back," one of the other boys said.

Emma practically danced on the spot. "But something huge this time. Bigger than Halloween."

"Yeah," Adam said, grinning at her. "We can definitely do that."

"They seemed just as freaked out on Halloween," I said, slamming my locker. "Ever think there's more to this?"

"Did you hit your head?" Chloe said coldly. "They messed with us. Now it's our turn."

"Maybe they didn't."

She glared at me. "We were all there. Just because you have the hots for a foreigner doesn't mean you get to stand here and tell me I didn't see what I saw."

"Do you even know what you saw that night?" I asked. "Because I sure as hell don't."

I turned and walked away, managing to keep my head held high amidst the rush of whispers that followed. They were all as bad as each other.

# Chapter 16

Dorian

* * *

Victor had already grabbed my throat twice that morning, so I avoided the pack as much as possible at school. Everywhere I went, whispers and hard stares followed. The townies were still rattled by the disastrous Halloween party, and every wolf but me was reacting badly.

At lunch, I didn't notice Margo in the canteen, so I went outside to find her. I was tired of being Victor's punching bag. He could self-combust for all I cared.

Margo was sitting huddled on the front steps reading a book. Her beanie was slung low down her forehead, but she still looked half-frozen. I rubbed my hands together. It was getting colder. I made my way over to her, hesitantly at first. But she looked up and smiled, and the air seemed to warm a little.

"Good book?" I asked.

She flushed and put it away. The glance I'd taken at the title revealed it was some kind of homeopathy guide on sleep disorders. "Not sure I understand half of it." She pulled her sleeves down over her gloved hands.

I sat next to her. "You'll catch your death out here."

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," she said. "A lot chillier inside anyway."

"Yeah, there's kind of an atmosphere today. It'll blow over."

She glanced my way. "Will it?"

"They'll always find something to hate each other over."

She nudged me. "But not you."

"I couldn't be bothered to hate anyone." I shrugged. "You feeling... okay?"

"I don't know." She bit her lip. "What happened the other day?"

What could I tell her? We were supposed to be acting as normal as possible. "Nothing happened."

"Come on, Dorian. We've both seen weird things happen. You don't have to pretend to—"

"Nothing happened," I repeated, unable to hold her gaze.

She made a sound of disgust then got up to leave. "I hate liars."

I wasn't a liar. I just couldn't tell the truth.

I took two of the younger wolfhounds on a walk after school, past the woods and along a road that ran behind a housing estate. It was usually a quiet place to walk, and I needed to think. Everything had gotten a lot weirder lately. Even without the crazy spirit nonsense.

The town was mad at the pack, the pack was mad at the town, and Margo was mad at me. She had questions, but so did I. And if she didn't know the answers, then was it right to drag her into our mess? I had no idea.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice anyone approach until Mara leapt on my back and clung to me. I stumbled for a second then righted myself and hoisted her higher. My smile died when I realised Alex was there, too.

Alex was screwed up in the head, more than the rest of us, because she had suffered through more pain than even I could imagine before the Evans family took over. I pitied her as much as I could, but she wasn't easy to be around.

Alex ran a hand across the ears of one of the wolfhounds, rolling her eyes at Mara on my back. She only tolerated me because of Mara—otherwise, she probably would have tortured me. "Hello, pup," she said, not even looking at me.

Mara nipped my ear. "The pup's walking the pups."

Alex rolled her shoulders then threw herself into a spontaneous cartwheel away from us.

"What's with you?" I asked Mara.

"Hyper," she said, clinging tighter.

Alex wandered off then set to punching a road sign.

"Alex, stop," I called out. "You can't mess with that."

She ripped a piece of the sign off then flung it at me. I barely dodged it.

Warmth flooded my cheeks. "You could have hit Mara or one of the dogs, Alex!"

She shot me a wolfy grin and approached. Mara slid off my back. One of the wolfhounds growled.

"Leave him," Mara said. "Let's go get some hot chocolate."

Alex looked at the dog and snorted. "The dog thinks he's a human, that they have to protect him." She sneered. "Pathetic." She looked me up and down. "He can't even defend himself."

"Alex," Mara said again, dancing away from me to link arms with her roommate. "Come on. I'm cold."

Alex, obviously bored, shrugged then let Mara lead her away. Mara glanced over her shoulder, a look almost akin to pity in her eyes.

When they were out of sight, I found the broken piece from the sign. I kicked it away from me. If anybody had seen her... Alex would end up sent away if she wasn't careful.

Me, too.

# Chapter 17

Margo

* * *

I stopped outside the café next to the community centre because I'd noticed a sign in the window looking for new staff the day before. I didn't have much of any experience, but how hard could it be? Still, I hesitated by the door, C.V. in hand, wondering if I should have just emailed in my application instead.

But Mam always said that when she was hiring she remembered the people who came into the building and made an effort to get to know the place, so I'd spent an hour researching online before leaving the house. There wasn't much information about that particular café, other than a couple of social media tags that weren't exactly helpful.

I heard some shouts and glanced over at the football pitch across the road. It was guarded by railings, and a couple of kids from school were messing about with a football. Loneliness filled a space in my chest, making me ache for a friend. I'd thought of myself as a loner, even back home, but I'd had a friend there. A best friend. Who hadn't replied to any of my messages since I moved.

Sighing, I grabbed the door handle, pulled instead of pushed, then eventually made it inside with a hot red face.

The place was moderately full, and the light wood panelling and plastic seats looked new. The barista glared at me as I approached. "Can I help you?" he asked in a bored voice.

"Uh." I swallowed hard then practically flung my C.V. at him. "I want to apply for a job."

He glanced over my info, his eyes narrowing. "You live in Hazelwood? I don't know you."

"I... we moved here recently," I said, feeling like an awkward criminal. "I don't know many people yet."

"So you're not from here." His expression turned colder. "We need somebody with experience. And references by people _we_ know."

I frowned, realisation striking me that if I wasn't a townie, then that put me in the so-called "foreigner" camp, and they weren't treated like everyone else. I took back the C.V. with more force than I'd intended, unbalancing the barista. "You mean you want somebody you know from birth because you're a judgemental shithead."

"That's not what I said." But he sneered nonetheless.

I left, muttering every insulting term I had ever heard in my life. I had gotten to a very Scottish bawbag when I realised I was standing outside the community centre during the drama club's allotted time. Maybe I could sign up.

Or I could call Dorian and ask him a million questions he wouldn't answer while wishing he would just kiss me again.

Yeah, no.

I let myself into the community centre and asked at reception about the drama club.

"Oh." The woman adjusted her glasses, her eyes wary. "It's through that door. A rehearsal is about to start, so you'll have to make sure you don't disturb anyone."

"Okay, thanks." I walked through the door and along a crowded hallway. People, mostly young girls, started whispering as I passed them.

I kept my head up, avoided anyone's gaze, and almost made it to the end of the hallway.

Then Chloe and a couple of other girls blocked the door.

"What are you doing here?" Chloe asked.

"Hey," I said, forcing a cheerful tone to my words. "I was coming by to see about joining up."

"There's no room," one of the girls said.

I looked at Chloe. "Really?"

She glanced at her friends then shrugged.

I rolled my shoulders back. "One more person won't make much of a difference.

The girl who had spoken stepped forward, folding her arms over her chest. "There's no room for _you_ ," she said coldly. "The people you associate with aren't welcome here, and we don't need you spying for them."

"What the hell does that mean?" I demanded.

Chloe gripped my arm and ushered me away from the group. "We don't want any trouble." She looked over her shoulder. Everyone was staring at us. Chloe sighed. "Why don't you go home, Margo? This isn't for you. You're not one of us."

"As if I'd want to be like you," I snapped then turned away. If I didn't fit in anywhere in town, then that meant a pretty lonely future was coming my way, but I was sick to death of people trying to put me down.

I headed toward home but found myself standing next to that old field again. I wasn't even sure if it had been a conscious decision. Maybe I was losing my mind. Maybe that's why my birth mother gave me up. I really had to snap out of it before I drowned in the well of self-pity that had been filling up since we moved.

"Margo!" a voice called.

It was so good to hear my name in a tone that wasn't accusing or hateful or distrustful. I turned to see Ms. Rivers walking toward me with Dorian's other guardian. Their hands were full of leads—dogs of all sizes walked next to them.

One of the dogs lunged forward, a low growl coming from its throat. I automatically stepped back warily.

"Sit," Nathan said, and all of the dogs obeyed. I sort of wanted to obey, too.

I kept my distance from the dogs, waiting for one to attack. It was that kind of day.

"Are you afraid of dogs?" Ms. Rivers asked.

"Not really," I said. "Dogs just don't seem to like me much." And the only one who had liked me ended up dead next to me. My stomach flipped over.

"They just have to get used to you," she said gently. "These dogs won't hurt you."

"Are they all yours?" I asked my teacher, a little concerned.

"No," she said with a smile. "Nathan trains dogs, and some of the teens walk them. But our kids aren't the most popular people in town right now."

"So you two have to do it," I said, feeling guilty.

"It's good for us," Nathan said. "We were getting lazy anyway."

She grinned at him, and I felt a little shock to my soul. They looked at each other as though the rest of the world didn't exist. My parents had been like that once, before our problems grew unmanageable. But they never made me feel like a third wheel, and I was definitely getting those vibes around Dorian's guardians.

I cleared my throat. "Well, see you at school, Ms. Rivers." I pulled my earbuds out of my pocket to drown out the rest of the world again.

"Margo, wait," she said. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine." I forced a smile and wondered what weird stuff they had been up to when I barged into their home. "I only fainted because I missed breakfast."

"That's not what I meant." She studied my face. "Is something bothering you?"

Only all of the crazy things that had been happening. What did she know? Would she tell me if she did? "I'm good." I pressed my lips together in a line. She made me want to talk, but I didn't even know her, and nothing I had been saying lately had done anything but make people hate me.

"How are you finding school?" she pressed. "Any problems?"

"I just... keep to myself." I looked away. "Kind of not the most popular person either." That bit slipped out, surprising me.

"Have any of our kids been bothering you?" Nathan asked tersely. "I'll make sure that stops now."

"No, it's not that. I made the mistake of trying to be everyone's friend. I tried to be the voice of reason, and it backfired. With everyone." I shrugged. "It's stupid. I wanted to join the drama club, but I'm not welcome there. I tried to apply for a job, but apparently I'm not townie enough." I sighed in exasperation. "I don't know. It's weird around here, don't you think?"

Nathan smiled warmly. "Extremely. But you get used to it, eventually."

They glanced at each other, and Nathan nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Ms. Rivers smiled at me. "Why don't you join us at Nathan's self-defence classes? You might meet some new people."

"I don't know." I shuffled my feet. "I'm not very coordinated."

"You're welcome any time," he said. "Wednesdays at seven in the community centre. You might learn something useful."

"Yeah, maybe. I mean, thanks." A prickle ran down my back. Something pulled at me, made me want to move closer to the field. One of the dogs whimpered. Sweat beaded at my temples.

Ms. Rivers frowned. "Margo? You look pale, well, paler than usual."

I half-gasped, fighting hard against the compulsion threatening to take over me. Not there. Not in front of people. "I... have to go." I dashed off.

"Margo!" Nathan called after me, but my legs kept moving, and I didn't dare stop.

I ran toward home. That feeling was back. One of foreboding and doom, one that had gripped me at Dorian's place. Why? What was happening to me? What was going to come next, hallucinations?

I needed to talk to somebody, so I texted my old best friend. She didn't reply, no matter how many times I checked my phone. I paced my room until my lovebirds squawked at me.

That night, I stayed awake for a long time, fighting sleep and setting frequent alarms to ensure I didn't sleep deeply at all. I had a feeling that something terrible was going to happen, that if I fell asleep, I might sleepwalk.

I read about hereditary mental illnesses for as long as I could, and I felt like a zombie the next morning. Maybe it was time to consider going back on my old medication. It had made me feel less human, somehow subdued, but that was better than feeling as though I were losing my mind.

# Chapter 18

Dorian

* * *

Mara nudged me as I was switching out books in my locker. "What's that about?"

I looked behind me. Victor had his arms folded, standing directly in Margo's way. She looked exhausted, but she coolly held his gaze before bypassing him. He glared after her.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, striding over to him. "Leave her alone."

He blinked rapidly, the wolf showing in his eyes. "Because you say so?"

"Because I do," Mara said. "Pick on someone your own size, you filthy coward."

He relaxed. "She's just like the rest. You know it, too."

"We don't need any more trouble," Mara said, pushing me back toward my locker. "Byron will be pissed. Get back under the radar, Caveman."

He snorted then gestured for the others to follow him to class. But he glanced back at us, his eyes full of suspicion.

Mara leaned against the locker next to mine, closing her eyes. "He's starting to get on my last nerve. Looks like Margo feels the same. What's her deal?"

"She's not stupid," I said. "She knows something shady went down on Halloween. I don't know what to tell her."

"Obviously, nothing." She opened her eyes. "I heard some girls bitching about her in the bathroom. She's always on her own. She could probably use a friend."

I shut my locker. "So go befriend her."

She sniggered. "I'm not good with girls. But I feel sorry for her. She's become the you of the school."

"Oh, no. Not the very worst thing that could happen to a person."

"You stick up for other people," she said. "I just don't understand why you can't defend yourself."

I leaned my forehead against the locker. We'd had the same conversation too many times. It was my place to bear the brunt, and when I did, everyone else mostly stayed out of trouble.

"She's not you," Mara warned. "She can't be like you. If she was one of us, she'd be dominant. We can burn it off on a run, but she can't do that, so she won't be able to handle all of this." She winced as though the words were physically painful to say. "So go help her."

I dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I love you, Mara."

She punched me right in the gut, winding me. "I love you, too."

After school, I made it outside first and waited for Margo. The first rush out of school moved urgently and noisily, but she wasn't among them. A group crossed my path, Adam making an effort to steer himself into me, roughly brushing against me. I barely noticed, more concerned with looking out for Margo. The rest of the group kept going, but Adam lingered, hurling a couple of insults I didn't bother listening to.

If I'd been paying more attention, I might have noticed Victor striding toward us, but it wasn't until Victor shoved Adam that I caught on. I might not have been popular, but I was still pack. Protecting one of our own was a basic instinct.

"Don't even _look_ at him," Victor said through clenched teeth.

Adam's expression flashed between one of contempt and fear. Anyone in their right mind would be afraid of Victor in that mood, but sometimes I thought Adam must enjoy the conflict. "Or what?"

Victor smiled, and I knew it was time to worry. "Leave it," I said. "He's a waste of time."

Victor relaxed slightly, but he pointed at Adam. "When you're least expecting it." He glanced at me. "Let's go, Dorian."

I winced. "I'm just waiting for someone."

Victor shot me a long, hard look, and though it was hard to resist, I stayed put. He shook his head in disgust then left.

Adam sneered at me. "Bodyguard's gone. Nobody to protect you now."

My patience ran out. I took one step toward him, and he automatically retreated a step. "I don't need a bodyguard. I wasn't lying when I said you're a waste of time, now get lost."

He did. I'd noticed that some humans were more likely to be wary of a calm, implied threat than heat and loud words.

Margo was one of the final stragglers to leave school. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets, her earbuds in, and her shoulders slumped so low, she looked about a head shorter.

I got in her way. She looked up at me, a defeated look in her eyes. She looked ready to burst into tears. I gently took out the earbuds. "Hey."

"Hey." Her voice trembled.

"Need a hug?"

She let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I'm not a hugger."

"I'm a great hugger," I said. "You're invited to take a hug whenever you want."

She made an effort to smile, but it made my heart ache.

"So I thought I'd walk you home," I said. "Make sure you don't faint or anything."

"Funny."

"It's not funny, and I really don't know what to tell you."

"But you know something." Her eyes narrowed. "Your friends, you act like I'm out of the loop, but you were all just as shocked as the townies on Halloween. So am I really supposed to think it was a prank?"

"You're calling them townies now?" I couldn't help smiling.

"Don't change the subject," she said sharply.

"Well," I said. "What do you think happened?"

A pained look crossed her face. "I don't know. I need to know."

"Why? What's so important?"

She looked away.

"Keeping secrets of your own now?" I meant it teasingly, but her cheeks flooded with colour. "You can talk to me, you know."

She lifted her chin. "About what?"

"Your secrets." I held her gaze. I knew she was different. I didn't know why or how, but she certainly had secrets. Seeing her in the woods with the dead rabbit had confirmed that for me. The way she'd acted in my house had only reinforced it. "You tell me yours, and maybe I'll tell you mine."

"You can tell me yours," she said softly. "But I don't even know mine."

I desperately wanted to wipe the pain out of her voice.

"What if we forget about secrets today," I said. "What if we just... hang out and act like teenagers for a while. I was thinking we could head into town. I could show you around, treat you to a cheap, greasy dinner that will leave you hungry an hour later, but then we could grab an ice-cream."

Her smile was fuller this time. "In this weather?"

"We're already cold. What harm's an ice-cream going to do?"

She bit her lip, and something fluttered in the pit of my stomach.

"Besides," I said hoarsely. "I'm always warm." I held up my hand. "One of these could warm your fingers back up after the ice-cream."

She looked around, but I didn't think she was going to say no anymore. "Now?"

"Unless you have plans. I'm free whenever."

She made a face. "I definitely don't have plans."

"I'll even pay for you on the bus. I'm charming like that."

She laughed then. "Fine. I can't turn down a good bus ticket."

"You crumbled too soon," I said. "I would have sprung for snacks if you kept haggling."

She walked past me. "I'll remember that for next time."

I caught up. "So there'll be a next time?"

"You're very enthusiastic about everything. What's wrong with you?"

"Lots of things," I said cheerfully. "And I just don't see the point in pretending I don't like something or someone. Why would I hide it? I'm not ashamed of anything."

She glanced at me as though trying to figure out if I were being serious or not. "I wish I could be like that."

"It's not hard." I led her toward the nearest bus stop. It was empty, so we'd just missed a bus. "I like you, and if you like me back, that's great. But if not, we can still be friends."

We'd just have to deal with the secrets later.

She narrowed her eyes when she took a seat at the stop. "I've never met anyone like you before, Dorian Evans."

"I'll bet," I muttered. I sat down, and she shifted over. The chill she'd been projecting—somehow—began to dissipate. "You look like you've had a tough week. Wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged. "Do you ever think people just _want_ drama in their lives? It'd be so much easier to just get along and not react to everything anyone says as though it's personally offensive."

I wanted to reach out and touch her, but she would probably shrink away from me. I could wait for her to come to me, if she wanted. That night at Halloween, before everything had fallen apart, I'd felt like she wanted me to kiss her. It was different after that—she'd understandably retreated, given all of the weirdness—but I wished I could help her find her old, confident self.

A bus arrived. We sat upstairs, at the front, and when I took a seat, I was surprised when Margo slipped into the seat right beside me.

She noticed me staring at her. "I wish everyone was as easy-going as you." She sank back into her seat, staring into the distance. "I tried to join the stupid drama club. Hanging around with you apparently makes that a no go. And I tried to get a job at the café, but you have to be a townie for that one, too. It makes me crazy."

"I'm so sorry."

She looked at me, her eyes soft. "You were the first person to be nice to me around here. You have nothing to be sorry for. I don't want to be a part of that crap. I don't care if you're from—" She frowned. "Wait, where are you from?"

"No idea." I grinned at her expression. "Nathan found me on some mountain in Eastern Europe, but I wasn't born there. No parents, no birth cert, so we made up my background mostly."

"He found you," she said sceptically. "On a mountain. And took you home. Just like that?"

"It was probably a bit more complicated." And she would never understand. "He was travelling with his family, came across me and a bunch of other kids in a bad situation, and tried to help."

"Were you kidnapped?" she asked. "I mean, was it some kind of human trafficking scenario?"

I shrugged. "More like I was unwanted and dumped onto a crazy old woman, far away from the authorities. It worked out for me in the end."

"Do you ever wish you could meet your parents?"

I shook my head. "I don't care who they are. My family is here, in this town, so I'll do what it takes to stay with them."

"Sometimes I wish I could talk to my biological parents." She sounded embarrassed. "Just to find out, like, medical stuff."

"It's all right to want to know where you came from," I said firmly. "It's just I already know it wasn't better than what I have now."

"My parents are great," she said. "But I wish my dad was having better luck getting work around here."

It was my turn to sound embarrassed. "The job at my place, it's just on hold. The work will be there, it's just... a bad time."

She narrowed her focus on me. "Because of what happened at Halloween." Then she held up her hands. "I know, I know. No secrets today. So tell me widely known truths then, Dorian."

"I am a big wuss," I said with a smile.

"That's not true," she said. "Next."

"I love sci-fi. Like old movies from the seventies and stuff."

She wrinkled her nose. "So you're a super geek. Duly noted."

"Your music gives me a headache."

She screwed up her face in confusion. " _My_ music?"

I touched the earbud hanging from her pocket. "I can hear it when you wear these. Too much bass and drums for me."

She pretended to be horrified. "We obviously can't be friends."

"What a waste of a bus ticket. Oh, check it out." I pointed out the window. "Up that way is the hospital. The other bus goes past it. There's a gym and a swimming pool past that. We need to get off in... three more stops, right outside a veritable geeky wonderland."

She looked puzzled, so I clarified. "A comic book shop. Not one that sells mostly posters. I mean, retro stuff. You'll love it."

She didn't look convinced, so I knew I had to talk up the place some more. By the time we got off the bus, she looked ready to go home.

I hesitated outside the shop. "We don't have to go in."

"Are you kidding me?" She nudged me. "I need to see what all the fuss is about."

Anxiety gripped me. The place meant a lot to me, but seeing it through her eyes, it did kind of smell like sweat and must. And maybe there was no good stuff. And maybe...

She was already through the door, hadn't even waited for me. I took a deep breath, followed her in, then waved at the cashier who knew me by name. Margo took her time, wandering around the sections, her hand hovering as though she wanted to touch the plastic covers of the rarest comics.

She found her way to the more modern stand and looked at a couple of comics before stopping short. She lifted one up and stared at the girl on the cover with silver hair and eyes.

"That's one of my favourites," I said with a smile. "Guess it's no surprise why I'm into you, right?"

She looked up at me in surprise. "You think I look like this?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're reality. Somebody drew her, but you remind me of her a lot."

She looked at the cover again, her mouth moving as though she wanted to say something. "But she's a hero. And she's beautiful."

I laughed. " _This_ is what freaks you out?"

"It's just..." She bit her lip. "Girls in magazines and stuff... they never look like me. I always wanted to look like them, but..." She ran her finger across the cover. "She's so... I don't know."

I touched her shoulder gently, confused by her words. "But, Margo, _you're_ beautiful."

She gazed at the image. "But what if I'm not a hero?"

It took me a second to realise she was conflicted about herself, about her secret. And I understood that because if more people knew about werewolves, they probably wouldn't see us as heroes. Maybe her secret was just as questionable as mine.

I leaned closer to her. "But what if you are?"

She sucked in a breath, pressed the comic against her chest, then spun on her heel.

"What are you doing?"

She shot a cheerful look over her shoulder. "Buying it. Duh."

She paid for the comic, and when we went outside, she slipped her hand in mine and held on. I no longer cared that I didn't understand what was happening between us. I just held on, too.

I showed Margo around until it got dark. We stopped in front of a streetlight. "Want to get some food?" I asked. "There's a nice hidden pizza place a couple of streets away from here. We could try that or something else."

"Pizza's fine." She bit her lip again. "Dorian, thanks for today. I was being miserable earlier, but I feel a lot better now."

I wanted to tell her things I shouldn't tell anyone. Forgot about all of that when her hand tugged on my jumper, pulling me closer. I cupped her cheek—she was so cold—and leaned in to kiss her. I smelled her shampoo, tasted her lip balm, and my wolf went very still.

She pulled back slightly, our noses almost touching. "I do like you, Dorian."

I kissed her again, wishing we were anywhere but on a public street. Her stomach rumbled, and I leaned back, grinning. "Food first, then."

She grinned, took my hand, then let me lead the way. We had almost made it to the restaurant when my wolf whined in alarm, and a chill wrapped around me. Margo stumbled to a stop.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just really..." She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing heavily. Then her face went slack.

I shivered. The cold was setting in again. "Margo?"

She opened her eyes. They were blue. She didn't see me anymore.

"Margo?"

"Hmm?" She walked in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" I followed her, feeling as though her mystery were unravelling before my eyes. "Margo, wait."

She moved quickly, as though she knew exactly where she was going. This from the girl who hadn't been able to find her own house. Doubts nudged at me, and the wolf paced, agitated.

"Can you hear me?" I asked.

"Yes," she said in a dull voice.

I wondered if she was being possessed, if the spirit was attached to _her_ somehow. "Where are we going?"

"Home," she said softly.

"I told you... this isn't the way."

But I followed her anyway.

Her pace upped until we had almost reached the bridge of the canal. Not wolf territory, but the scents in the air were too familiar. My skin itched.

A group of townies had gathered on the bridge, laughing and jeering each other. Adam lifted Emma into the air, showing off. He teased her frequently, probably just to get his hands on her. But this time, he hung her over the edge of the bridge.

"That's so stupid," I muttered.

The canal wasn't so deep, but the bridge had a big drop, and the water was likely freezing. And Margo slowly lifted her hand, her fingers stretching as she reached toward the canal.

A sudden sense of foreboding gripped me, and I dropped my bag. I saw the scene play out in my mind right before Emma slipped out of Adam's hands with a terrified cry. He grasped empty air as her scream pierced my ears. I threw off my jacket and shoes and was racing toward the canal before the others could even react.

I heard the splash of water, the brief second of silent shock, and then everyone was leaning over the bridge, shouting Emma's name as though that would help her.

She didn't resurface. I leapt in and was immediately pulled under the surface. The water tasted filthy. It was dark and murky, and I couldn't use my scent to find the girl. I caught sight of a flash of red. Her shoes. I swam closer. She was stuck in the reeds, entangling herself in her panic.

I caught hold of her hands to calm her. She clung to me, weighing me down. I ripped the reeds apart, freeing her, but she held on to me. The water pushed us back, and I fought hard to move us both to safety, avoiding debris in the darkness. My lungs burned, and her mouth opened. I pushed up through the water until we broke free, Emma gasping and crying and choking all at once. Blood glistened on her forehead.

"It's okay," I said, struggling to lift her out of the water and onto the dirt. Somebody hauled her out. I climbed out and pulled off her wet jacket.

People were surrounding us, talking, not making sense, so I broke out of the crowd with Emma in my arms and raced over to Margo to get my dry jacket to wrap around Emma.

"I called an ambulance," Chloe said, reaching us, out of breath. "You need to get out of those clothes."

"It'll be here quickly," I said, glancing up at Margo. Her eyes were back to normal, but she looked ready to throw up. I sat on the ground, Emma clinging to me. I gripped her hands in mine, rubbing them and blowing them to try to heat them up. Her eyes closed slowly. "Wake up," I said sharply. "Chloe, keep her awake. She hit her head. She looks concussed."

She tried, and as the ambulance sirens sounded in the distance, she looked at me, her eyes tearful. "You saved her."

"Anybody would have done the same."

"But they didn't. _You_ did."

The ambulance pulled up. Chloe immediately told the paramedics what happened. They tried to force me into the ambulance with them, no matter what I said.

One of them, Abbi, gave me a stern look. "Nathan would never forgive me if I didn't insist. Now shut up, and put up with it."

I rolled my eyes, letting her wrap an aluminium sheet around my shoulders.

I glanced at Margo. She looked lost. "Chloe, get Margo home. Please."

She nodded, waving us off in the ambulance. I was shivering, but I was more concerned about Emma. She reached for my hand, asking me to stay with her. At the hospital, I waited until her parents showed up. By then, Nathan and Perdita had already arrived to fuss over me. But all I could think about was Margo. If she hadn't been there, I wouldn't have been there, and Emma might have died.

Margo had known _something_ was about to happen. Yet she was ashamed of her secret. So what did any of it mean?

# Chapter 19

Margo

* * *

Emma was back at school on Monday, and immediately, zoned in on Dorian with her friends. I hadn't spoken to Dorian since, mortified by the way I'd flaked out in front of him. I wasn't even sure what happened exactly. The incident was still a blur to me. I saw it through a darkened lens and couldn't really figure out all of the details.

The only thing I knew for sure was that Dorian was a hero now, and he appeared to have forgotten all about me because he hadn't sought me out either. I knew what it was like to be despised by everyone. Of course he was enjoying the attention, but it nipped all the same.

I walked by Victor and some others in the hallway between classes and heard them grumble about Dorian drawing attention when they were supposed to be hiding out. Hiding from what exactly? I wasn't the only one with secrets.

Victor caught me looking and bared his teeth at me.

"Weirdo," I muttered and kept walking. He was such a freak. I avoided most of the drama, and it was as though I hadn't even been at the canal. I hid in the toilets while Emma and some others invaded the bathroom.

"Adam said sorry," Emma said. "But his parents have banned him from being around me. I don't really care." She laughed. "But did you hear how Dorian saved my life? Like actually saved me?"

"Yes," Chloe said dryly. "Multiple times. I was _actually_ there, you know."

Emma sighed. "He just carried me around like it was nothing." I heard her looking through her bag for something. "I used to think he was a bit dorky, but he's turned out to be kinda cute, right?"

I winced as the girls giggled about Dorian for a few minutes until the bell rang. When I finally escaped, Chloe was still in the bathroom. She gave me an understanding nod before she left.

I wandered outside at lunchtime, braving the cold because I doubted I could stomach watching Dorian be the centre of attention. Emma and her friends had treated him like dirt, and now he was their king. It made me want to throw something. I just wasn't entirely sure why.

I sensed him walking toward me and tried to concentrate on the book I hadn't been able to read more than a sentence of at a time.

He sat next to me, far too close, and I shifted over a little. I didn't mean to; I was just used to giving people space.

"Wanna hang out later?" he asked.

I snapped my book closed and angled my body to face him. "Sure you have enough time for little old me?"

His eyes widened. "What are you, jealous?"

"Ugh, get over yourself." Was I?

"Did you know that your eyes change colour?" he said abruptly.

My mouth opened and closed before I settled on a reply. "That's not possible, meathead."

"Then how have I seen it?"

I stared at my hands. How was I supposed to explain my weirdness? He would run a mile. "Refracted light or some shit. I'm all... absent of colour. Maybe that does things in sunlight."

"It was dark at the canal." He studied me as though he searched for a trace of a lie. "And nobody's told you before?"

I shrugged. "Nobody other than my parents."

"You're different."

"Well, yeah, look at me."

"Trust me. I have been."

Something in his voice made me look at him. "Why?" My voice cracked.

"You know why." He touched my hand. His was warm.

"Talk about different," I said with a laugh because the intensity in his eyes made me feel as though something huge were about to happen. "Who's warm in this weather?"

His lopsided smile put me back at ease. "Everyone's different. Some differences are just more obvious than others."

I chewed on my lip and stared at the school gates. I desperately wanted to go home, to my real home, where everything was safe and normal and predictable. "What's so different about you?"

"Oh, lots of things." He looked at me askance. "I was living with a bunch of kids and the oldest woman in the entire world when Nathan found me. I was maybe eleven, practically feral, had a stutter when I did talk, which wasn't often. Even now, the words I think in my head just don't come out the same. Anyway, back then, I couldn't sleep in a bed. I had to learn what a fork was. Don't assume my life is simple just because you think I'm a meathead."

He was in a far-off place now, and the darkness in his gaze was both unsettling and attractive somehow.

I leaned into him cautiously. "But you're happy now, right?"

He shed the old memories in a flash, his expression full of happiness and good humour. That's what I liked about him. He was easy to be around, always in a good mood, never creepy or gross. And his freckles were cute. I was completely crushing on him.

"You don't understand how happy I am living with Nathan and Perdita," he said. "He came along and literally picked up me off a floor and took me away. He carried me to a hospital—long story—then took me home, gave me a bedroom and clothes, food I didn't have to fight for, and even a birthday. I thought I would die in that place until he came. I owe him everything."

"Not that I'm not glad, but he had to have been young. Wouldn't it have been easier to let somebody else deal with it all?"

"He just wanted to make sure I was safe, but he couldn't let anyone else take that responsibility. Perdita always says he feels too deeply, is too empathic." He smiled warmly. "Not that she can talk. She never asked for any of this, but she's done everything possible to make me feel like family. I'll never forget what they've done for me."

My throat ached from the sincerity in his voice. He'd had it rough then gotten his happy ending.

He cleared his throat. "So what's your story?"

"Not as dramatic. My parents found me in an orphanage in Romania when I was a toddler and took me home as soon as they could. We've always been close, especially me and my dad. I always know they're going to take my side, and I've no complaints. I love my parents." But the need to know more about my biological parents grew every day.

"I'm glad they found you. We're lucky, you and I."

I knew that, but I still had too many pieces missing. "What would you do if your real parents showed up one day?"

"Nothing," he said. "They couldn't or wouldn't take care of me. I don't hate them. They're just not real in my head."

"Aren't you worried about something genetic?" I whispered. "Like a sickness or... something, passed down from them?"

His gaze turned to steel. "Are you asking me something specific?"

I didn't understand the change in atmosphere and shook my head. "Just thinking out loud." I wasn't about to tell the one person who had been nice to me that I might be mad or something.

_Or something._

"You can talk to me," he said, sounding disappointed. "And we should talk about what happened."

I stared at him, assuming he meant us kissing.

"You led me to Emma," he said instead. "Your eyes changed colour, and you started walking until we found her. And then she fell into the water."

"No." I covered my ears. "I... I didn't do anything to her."

"Hey." He took my hands away and held them. "Of course you didn't. That's not what I'm saying. _Adam_ dropped her. _You_ basically saved her, Margo."

My laugh was sharp and harsh. "I stood there like a fool while you jumped into the water. I didn't help her at all."

"We both know you did," he said firmly. "You brought me there for a reason."

"How could I? That doesn't make any sense." My breath came out in short gasps, and the fear that had been prickling my gut for days exploded, making it harder to think straight. "I didn't know any of that. I swear. I'm not even sure what happened."

"I know," he said. "But if you hadn't brought me there, Emma might have died. She was caught in the reeds underwater. She hit her head, and she could have drowned. But you knew we had to be there."

"I'm not..." I broke out of his grip and abruptly stood, my hands trembling as I picked up my bag then backed up away from Dorian. "What you're saying is impossible, and I don't want to talk about it!"

I left him there, cutting my last class to leave school early. He said things I wasn't ready to hear, things that couldn't make sense. I couldn't focus on anything else. I hadn't been sure, but he said I led him to Emma. But what if it hadn't been to save her? What if me being there had somehow caused the accident? How would I even know? Dorian thought I was a hero, but what if I wasn't?

How could I have known anyway?

Frustrated, I wandered around for a while before going home at the usual time. I sat in my room, listening to my lovebirds chatter while I stared at my unfinished homework. I took the comic I'd bought out of the drawer and stared at it, trying to find a connection between me and the hero on the page. I couldn't.

I was so lonely. It was hard not having another soul to talk to, and even when one came along, not being able to tell them what I was really thinking in case it repulsed them felt worse.

"This is no way to live," I told my lovebirds.

They ignored me.

I avoided Dorian for the next couple of days. He kept approaching me at lunch, but all I had to do was shake my head, and he'd go back inside without a word. I didn't want him to go, but I was scared of what he'd say if he stayed. I was scared of what he'd say when he heard my whole story, how I woke up next to dead things, how my sleepwalking brought me to fresh graves that I tried to dig up. I wanted him to like me, enjoyed the way he looked at me as though I were something special, something good. But the real me was a horror show.

By Wednesday evening, I was sick to death of being alone in my room, unable to concentrate on my homework and pretending to my parents that I was okay. I was acting like a wimp about everything, and it had to stop.

"I'm going out," I told my lovebirds. "I mean it this time. So what if I'm not wanted at the drama club? I'll just find a new interest. I'll put myself out there, meet people. I don't have to tell anyone my secrets." Especially when I didn't actually understand my own secrets.

And why not go out? What was the worst that could happen? Everybody already hated me. It couldn't get much worse. So I changed and headed to the community centre for the self-defence class. After everything Dorian had said about Ms. Rivers and her boyfriend, I couldn't imagine them being cruel to me. And maybe I needed to mentally punch something, to put all of the energy and doubt in my veins somewhere other than worrying about things I couldn't change.

When I arrived at the community centre, the main hall was full of people I didn't know, most of them appearing to be in their late twenties. I spotted Nathan Evans and Ms. Rivers chatting happily to a group of townies. I even thought I saw one of the paramedics from Emma's accident. So not _everybody_ hated each other then.

"Hey!"

I jumped about a foot in the air as Dorian lunged into my line of sight. He seemed hyped, but he always carried an energetic, fidgety vibe.

I pressed my hand over my heart. "You scared the ever-living crap out of me."

He shrugged. "Sorry. Didn't know you'd be here."

"Your... whatever invited me."

He glanced over his shoulder. I was ninety percent sure Ms. Rivers winked at him. "I bet she did." He looked at me. "You're talking to me now?"

"As long as you don't talk about... stuff."

He ran his hand through his hair, a conflicted look in his eyes. Finally he nodded. "Agreed. But only because I missed you."

I bit back a goofy smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He closed the space between us, not enough to make me step back. He smiled when I held my ground. "I'm glad you came. It'll be fun. People get really into this class."

"I don't have to hit an actual person, do I?"

He snorted. "How else are you going to learn how to fight off an attacker, Margo?"

Nathan approached us. "Hi, Margo. Nice of you to join us. Have you ever taken a class like this before?"

I shook my head slowly. "I'm more of a pacifist."

He grinned and exchanged an amused glance with Dorian. "I'll pair you up with Dorian tonight then. He's a bit of a pacifist, too." His look turned serious. "Make sure she warms up properly—no slacking off, we don't need anyone getting injured on their first day. Then get started on the basics from lessons one and two. Just the movements for now. As soon as I get everybody else set up, I'll be back to observe."

When he left, I looked at Dorian, wrinkling my nose in disgust. "There are _lessons_?"

"What on earth did you think went on here?" he asked, leading me to a quiet corner of the room. There was an empty mat on the floor and buffers around the walls. I really hoped it wasn't going to be like P.E. at school. I was pretty sure Nathan Evans would know if I faked an injury to avoid exercise.

I pushed the edge of the mat with my toe. "I kinda thought it'd be people sitting down, drinking coffee, learning about avoiding danger. That kind of thing."

"I can see why people do that, but Nathan runs a physical class." He plonked himself on the mat and gestured for me to follow. He demonstrated some stretches for me to copy. "Nathan wants to give everyone the means to protect themselves if needed. The stuff about avoiding danger is sort of like... making you feel safer because you've taken measures to make sure the bad guy goes for somebody more vulnerable."

"I don't want anybody else to get hurt instead of me," I said hurriedly.

"But that's the best case scenario. You minimise the danger to you, but what if that just puts the attacker's focus on somebody else? And what happens when _you_ happen to be the most vulnerable person around?"

"What's the worst case scenario?" I asked. "Because even best case sounds pretty awful right now."

He held up his hands. "It's not meant to be a guilt trip. Just a different point of view. The world isn't full of bad people, but they still exist. If somebody really wants to hurt you, nothing will stop them. People get hurt even when everything is in their favour. If it comes to that, you don't want to feel helpless. You want to be able to do everything in your power to fight back."

I leaned back. "I suppose I didn't think of it that way before."

He grinned. "That's because you don't live with Perdita Rivers."

"It must be weird to live with a teacher."

"Not really." He noticed my efforts had become pathetically half-hearted and frowned. "We should get a move on before Nathan shows up."

"I thought he was a dog trainer," I said.

"This is voluntary," he said. "Like the firefighting."

"He's a fireman?" I glanced over at the man. "How does he even have time to eat?"

He grinned. "We always find time to eat." He hauled me to my feet. We finished the warm-up then started on simple movements, reactions to ways I could be pinned. I had been mildly horrified by the idea of physical fighting, but it wasn't like that at all.

By the time Nathan returned, I had worked up a sweat and was even enjoying myself. Nathan directed us then, using Dorian to show me more. They wrestled, and a couple of times, I winced at the impact as one or the other was thrown against the buffers, but neither seemed to mind. They were a lot gentler with me, but still firm enough that I had to work hard to free myself using their instructions.

"Well?" Nathan said at the end of the class. "Are you going to come back or have we scared you off?"

"How much is it?" I asked.

"Oh, no, it's a free class," he said. "We have a jar for donations to an animal rescue we work with for anyone who feels like giving something small, but you don't have to pay for this class. Everybody should be able to defend themselves. _Everybody_ deserves to feel safe."

He was oddly passionate about the whole thing. "Well, thanks," I said. "I should go say hi to Ms. Rivers and thank her for inviting me."

I found my teacher standing next to a tall woman with faded teal hair scraped back into a scarily tight bun. She was even taller than me, which made a nice change.

"I just wanted to say thanks, Ms. Rivers. I enjoyed the class."

"We're not in school. You can call me Perdy," she said. "Will we see you next week then?"

"I think so."

"I'm glad. I actually wanted you to meet somebody. This is my friend, Tammie. She runs the drama club."

I froze, feeling completely awkward. "Oh, hi."

Tammie looked me over. "Perdy told me about what happened. My girls aren't perfect, and it can be hard to see things from somebody else's perspective. We've had a little talk about exclusion, so when you come to our next class, there shouldn't be any bad blood. From either side. Are we in agreement?"

I nodded slowly, unsure of myself.

Tammie smiled, and warmth filled her face. "Good stuff. See you on Saturday then!"

She bounded off to speak to somebody else, leaving me to smile shyly at my art teacher. "Thanks," I said. "You didn't have to do that."

A fierceness I hadn't noticed before flared in her eyes. "Yes, I did, or nothing would ever change." She gestured around the room. "We're capable of getting along. I hope you've seen that not everything about this place is completely awful. You look so sad most of the time, Margo. It worries me."

"I know not everyone's the same." I glanced over at Dorian. "And I miss home still, but sometimes I'm kind of glad we moved here." The truth of that statement shook me. Was I finally settling down?

I felt like a completely different person by the time I went home that night. It had taken some time, but there were places where I fit in, people I could talk to. I just had to make sure I didn't ruin it all.

# Chapter 20

Dorian

* * *

The next morning, the sky was dark and gloomy. Something felt wrong, but I wasn't sure what. I'd gone to bed in great form, but that mood had vanished somewhere during the night. I got up, still groggy, and went downstairs, starting in surprise when I saw Amelia standing at the kitchen window, staring outside.

"Sorry," I said automatically, fighting the urge to back away.

"You're not disturbing me," she said, whatever she was looking at holding her attention for a few seconds longer. When she finally broke away, she turned to look at me. "I'm supposed to be staying in my old room, but I keep coming here. I'm worried that..."

"Something else will happen?" I offered.

Her shoulders relaxed. "Have you ever had that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know something bad is coming, but you can't figure out what it is?"

I nodded dumbly. I'd lived with that feeling for a long time, learned to ignore it, mostly.

She sat at the counter. "Go make some breakfast, Dorian. You must be hungry."

I obeyed, partly out of habit.

"How are you getting on with the pack?" she asked. "Are you still happy with Nathan and Perdita?"

"Yes," I said enthusiastically before clearing my throat. She was smiling at me. She had a very nice smile that never quite reached her eyes. I often felt she belonged to two worlds, never committing to either. "They're good to me."

"I worried about the responsibility they were taking on at first, but they seem to really love having you around. You know, when we first found you, Byron thought you might be another omega."

"Sorry," I said again.

"Don't apologise for who you are." She arched a natural brow. "Perhaps that's too heavy a conversation for this time in the morning."

I turned my back to stick some bread in the toaster—and avoid meeting her gaze.

"That girl..." Her words slid across my skin in a manner that made us—wolf _and_ I—alert and aware of incoming danger. "Margo, was it?"

"Yeah, Margo." My back stiffened. If Amelia noticed, she didn't address my anxiety.

"I've talked to everyone about what's been going on." She hesitated as though waiting for me to respond. "Your friend's been around for every incident."

"She didn't do it." I pressed my palms flat on the counter, trying to force calm into my voice. "I asked her. I'd know if she were lying." Probably.

"She's not like other people though, is she? There's something... different about this girl. But she didn't appear aware of what was happening when she broke the circle." She tapped her fingers on the table. The sound electrified my nerves. "It's a pity. I could use some knowledge right now. I did wonder if she might have been possessed by a spirit momentarily back there. That could explain the change in eye colour."

I whirled around. "You noticed that?"

She nodded. "I'm told my own eyes change colour when I call upon certain... elements. Perhaps there's something in her bloodline that makes her susceptible to spirits as a kind of vessel."

"There haven't been any more freaky hauntings," I said confidently. "It's probably over."

"I hope so." She held my gaze. "Tell me, do you like Margo?"

"Yeah, but she's not like us, so it's complicated."

"Trust me," she said with a heavy sigh. "Falling for a pack member isn't any easier."

She left, and I scurried to the window to see what she had been looking at. The only thing I saw was a russet wolf about to run into the woods.

Margo wasn't at school. I hoped we hadn't worked her too hard at class. She had grown amusingly enthusiastic once she got past her reservations. And I had grown all too aware of how scarily breakable she was. I had to warn her—convince her—of the dangers in the world. But I was terrified _I_ would be the thing she feared in the end.

On the way home from school, Mara nudged me. "What's up with you?'

I shrugged. "Just thinking."

"Well, stop. You're going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning so hard. Wanna hang out with me and Alex later?"

"Not today."

"Chicken." She pinched my side then increased her pace to catch up with the front of the group.

I trailed behind, so deep in my own thoughts that I barely noticed the whispers of the others as we neared home.

Mara slipped next to me again. "Something's up, Dor."

The anxiety in her voice made me look up. A huge number of cars were parked outside the houses, cars I recognised as belonging to settled families from other estates in the area. "Probably just a pack meeting. Maybe Byron came home early."

All of the teens were subdued, secretly fearing it was time for some of us to leave. But it was too soon for that. Something else was happening. I sought out Nathan in the crowd of adults that gathered in the gardens.

Nathan spotted my approach and jogged over to us. "You're home." He sounded relieved.

"What's happening?" Victor asked, a note of fear in his words that made my shoulders itch.

"Mara," Nathan said. "Do you know where Alex is?"

She glanced at me, a troubled look in her eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd been asked that question, but it had been quite some time. "She said she was taking a dog to a client this morning. We're supposed to hang out after school."

He leaned back on his heels, his eyes narrowing with concern. "She never showed up. Amelia's had this feeling that something bad was coming, and now we can't get in touch with Alex. If it was anyone else..."

We knew what he meant. Alex was different.

"Mara, do me a favour," Nathan said. "Check her room, see if she's taken anything with her."

"You didn't do that already?"

"You know me better than that," he said. "Besides, you'd know better than anyone if anything was missing."

She nodded then raced off toward her home.

Nathan looked over the rest of us. "Stay inside today," he said. "I don't need anyone else to go missing. Understand?" A hint of dominance coloured his words, and the others all dispersed immediately. Only I remained by his side.

"It's like Eric," I said. I wasn't sure why I said it, only that I had the same feeling as when he had left.

"Let's hope not," Nathan said. "She needs to be close to Byron, but she was doing so much better. She was happy here."

"So was Eric," I reminded him.

He frowned.

Mara returned, out of breath. "Her wardrobe is empty," she said. "It looks like everything is gone."

"So she left us?" Nathan sounded doubtful. "I'm going to call Jeremy, see if he heard from her. Maybe she needed a change of scene and didn't want to deal with the goodbyes."

He headed to the house, but Mara steered me back to the front gate. "She didn't run away," she hissed when we were out of hearing distance from anyone in the pack.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a bag she keeps in my wardrobe because there's a space at the top that's practically hidden. All of her important stuff is in there, passport, money, stuff like that. If she was going to run, that's the bag she'd take." She lowered her voice. "It's still there."

"What does this mean?"

"That she didn't leave of her own free will," she said. "Somebody made it look like she left."

Her chest was heaving with panic. I gripped her shoulders. "It's all right. We can fix this. You have to tell Nathan."

"We can't trust anyone!" A desperate note took over her words.

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded slowly.

"Then tell Nathan. Ask him not to make it public. He won't. If somebody's responsible for Alex's disappearance, it's best not to let them know what we know, and he'll understand that. Go into my house, find Perdita, and stay there. I'll get Nathan home, and we can talk privately. All right?"

Her chin trembled, but she nodded. Worrying for Alex was about the only time she could let me take charge.

By the time I found Nathan and persuaded him to go home for a few minutes, I was afraid Mara had run, but Perdita had calmed her down.

"What's going on?" Nathan said, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

"Mara found something important," I said. "And she needs you to keep it quiet. It's a secret of Alex's, but it could be proof that Alex didn't run."

"She didn't run!" Mara said vehemently. "She wouldn't have left me. We always agreed... if things went bad here, we'd leave together."

"Tell us what you know," Perdita said. "If it can help us make sure Alex is all right..."

"We're not going to force her to stay here if she doesn't want to," Nathan said, sounding perturbed. "We just want to know she's safe."

"But that's the thing! She wanted to be here. We both did. I... I don't think she's safe." She wiped a few stray tears then began again. "Alex's passport was her most important possession."

Nathan and Perdita exchanged a look, but I knew exactly why it was important to Alex. We had nothing before the Evans family took us in. The passports were a step toward legitimacy, our first real possession. Mara was right. Alex was impulsive and reckless, but she would never leave without her precious things. I didn't believe she'd leave without telling Mara either. Perdita had tried her best to connect with Mara when she arrived, but it was Alex who had gotten through to her, and they'd been close ever since.

"Alex kept the passport hidden with my things in a bag with other stuff, money, documentation, things she might need if she left. All of her clothes and everything are gone, but that bag is still there, untouched. Me and Alex were the only ones who knew about it. And if she didn't bring it with her, then Alex didn't want to leave."

Nathan hissed, his fingers clenching into fists. "A pack member has to be involved. This will cause panic."

"You promised you wouldn't tell anyone," Mara said.

"I won't risk letting anyone know we're onto them," Nathan said in a dark tone.

The front door burst open, and Amelia Evans ran into the living room, the ends of her long skirt flying behind her. "The car's been found in an abandoned car park. Empty. No sign of Alex. I know you said she might have bugged out, but I have a terrible feeling about this."

Nathan's lips thinned. He glanced at Mara who was staring at him expectantly. "Amelia, keep your feelings quiet for now. When does Byron get back?"

"In the morning," Amelia said.

"Then gather everyone on the property to the meeting hall. We need to organise a search as quickly as possible."

She left immediately, no hesitation at all. I'd half-expected her to at least question him further.

Nathan sighed, looking stressed. "Mara, stay here with Perdita."

"But—" she began.

"It's better we keep you out of the way," he said. "I don't want anyone guessing you know something that you're not sharing. I'll say you're upset if anyone wonders where you are."

"What about Dorian?" she asked sullenly.

"Nobody will notice me," I said. "You know that."

"Stay with me, and we'll try to figure out how and why Alex is gone," Perdita said. "We might come up with ideas between the two of us."

Mara reluctantly agreed.

Nathan and I hurried to the meeting house. He ran to the top of the room. Ryan called for attention without being told.

"We have reason to believe that Alex is in trouble," Nathan announced when everyone quietened.

"I thought she cleared out her things," Jorge said.

"That doesn't mean she's safe. Alex isn't ready to be out there alone. Byron won't be back tonight, so we need to organise a search in case—"

"You're not the alpha," one of the women said scornfully.

"He's the next best thing," Dominic said, glaring at her. "We do what he says until Byron gets back." He dropped his chin. "We have to find Alex before she hurts herself or someone else. It's not her fault, but she's vulnerable."

He was only saying what half the room was thinking, but the tension noticeably thickened. Losing a pack member wasn't good for any of us.

The pack had been divided up, some of them sent to where the car had been found, just beyond the woods, others to where the missing dog had turned up on the other side of town. The youngest of us were told to stay at home, but I couldn't. I was a decent tracker at the best of times, and as I wasn't as consumed by my animal self—or my worries—I, more than anyone else, could keep my head clear as wolf. I could follow a trail without panicking or getting distracted. If Alex was anywhere close by, I was sure I could find her. For once, I couldn't obey.

Searching near our homes was harder than searching new territory because every inch of land we owned was covered in our scents, but if I just took it one trail at a time, maybe I could figure out where her latest scents had taken her. With her scent fresh in my mind, I could move past the woods, to where the car had been found, and perhaps I'd find something the adults wouldn't. Anything was better than waiting at home for news, and once Perdita returned to the house, she'd stop me from leaving.

When Mara and Victor saw me getting ready to leave, they stopped me.

"You really think you can do what the adults can't?" Victor asked scornfully.

"It's better than sitting here waiting to hear what's happening," I said. "This is my only chance. Perdita's with the client, trying to smooth things over, but she'll be back soon."

"He's right," Mara said. "I hate this waiting business. Alex could have, I don't know, freaked out and turned wolf. You know what she was like."

We all knew. Alex might have been dominant, but she had become a werewolf in a time when females were few and far between. Women had been treated badly under the old alpha, and now most of them lived in Dublin, close to Byron, for a reason. The older ones were mostly damaged mentally, highly-strung and nervous at best. It was a dangerous mix, and Alex had gotten into risky situations before.

"She could have an injury or something," Mara continued. "She could be in the woods, confused or hurt."

"How would she get there without the car?" Victor demanded. "Where's the dog she was supposed to take with her? She ditched them then came back here and just, what, hid in the woods? It doesn't make sense."

"Alex can be moody. It's no secret," Mara said. "She might have gotten caught up in a good scent somewhere."

"Alex has had more control than that lately," I said, seeing Victor still looked doubtful. "Maybe she had an accident and passed out or got confused and shifted and ended up in the woods 'cause it's familiar."

"Fine," Victor said. "But we'll go together or not at all."

He was weirdly insistent about that for somebody who hated being around me most of time, but after refreshing ourselves on Alex's scent, thanks to her pillowcase, the three of us left for the woods, careful not to be seen by anyone else who had to stay behind. Victor could say what he liked, but I needed to track alone, to push out all of the distractions I didn't need. So as soon as I had the chance, I slipped away from the others.

I found a quiet spot and stripped off my clothes. Naked and cold in the winter air, I shivered, but it was a good shiver, full of anticipation. I was rarely overcome by the need to shift, but I savoured the experience in ways the others couldn't. I closed my eyes and let the wind embrace me. The scent of dirt and tree and _life_ was vibrant in the air. The woods were full of _us_ , our scents, our markings, our trails. I just had to follow and see where they led me.

My back arched as the first change came. My bones reshaped, my face lengthened, and my fingernails turned into claws. I fell to my knees and dug into the earth the way Nathan had taught me, grounding myself to something real, tethering myself to nature itself. The shift was fast, urgent. Soon I was covered in coarse curls of brown, the backs of my legs feathered with hair that would get matted as soon as the first drop of mud touched me.

I relaxed completely in a way I couldn't as a boy. Because as wolf, I was a shadow. Victor and the others forgot about me because they no longer needed to use me to cope. They were more comfortable in wolf form, but maybe that would change with age.

I lifted my snout and shook myself off. Getting used to the change could be disorienting, but a quick inhalation soon sorted me out. There were fresh scents mingled with old, and an uncomfortable thread mingled within. A wrongness. There were secrets in the woods. All I had to do was seek them out.

My heart raced, but my wolf remained calm, ready. Nose to the ground, we took the first step forward. The skin prickled on my back as I heard Victor and Mara in the distance. They were too noisy, too hasty. They were too busy trying to place themselves above each other in the pack to see what lay beneath the obvious scents. I was free to focus on my surroundings.

I started moving, slowly at first, then quicker as I drew close to a trail that had once belonged to Alex. I couldn't tell how old the scent was at first, but soon, I recognised it as at least a week old. Now that I was focusing solely on her, I realised that Alex had left a lot of scent trails in the woods, spent a lot of time running through them, apparently. Not always alone, judging by the tracks. For a moment, I fervently hoped a wolf hadn't lost his mate.

Time ticked on. The others had to have lost patience and given up already, but I kept going, moving slowly, double-checking, sorting through a puzzle of scents to find the most recent. A part of my brain enjoyed that, using more than my eyes and nose to fill out the details. And a part of me knew I wasn't going to find a happy ending.

I wasn't sure how long I spent in the woods before I caught the first scent of death—the kind I remembered from childhood. A true dark death, not the good death that comes from a rabbit or a deer. Old death, not something from a minute old kill. More like hours. _Not food_.

For an instant, I panicked, memories resurfacing, but that wouldn't help Alex, wouldn't help the pack. I pushed forward until I was on the other side of the woods, the part near the stream. Few wolves ventured out there. It was too close to houses that didn't belong to us, but Alex and Mara hadn't cared about that. I often saw them hanging around there. It took me a few more moments to realise there were quite a few scents I recognised, and not all of them were wolf. Something unnatural masked the other scents almost completely, but I couldn't connect to what it might be.

Ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I continued on with my task, confident I would find something at the end of the trail.

And at last, I did.

Behind a rotting tree, hidden under the mask of nature's decomposition, was a grave. Shallow, but deep enough to have remained hidden if someone hadn't interfered.

I sat by the mound of dirt and took in the scene, imagining it play out in my head. Someone had knelt right where I was, dove their hands into the dirt, digging it away, until they reached a body. A hand was clearly visible, but the scent of death was confusing because an animal had been buried on top of the body.

I couldn't trust my nose anymore, but the hand revealed a hint, a black ring that I knew belonged to Alex.

I raised my head and howled, a long, deep mournful sound that would travel far and wide. Dogs barked in the distance, alarmed by some instinct they were only half-aware of. Somebody would eventually come, and if they weren't too upset, they might even catch Margo's scent lingering around the grave.

# Chapter 21

Margo

* * *

My cheek was wet, my body stiff and uncomfortable. I opened my eyes slowly, then shot up into a sitting position as I realised I was on the ground behind my house.

_So cold._

I gaped at my hands in slowly-dawning horror. My fingernails were filled with dirt. As though I had...

_Oh, no_.

It had happened again, just like before. Except this time, I still had a chance to hide it.

Shivering, I slowly climbed to my feet, my limbs barely obeying. I brushed dirt off my damp jeans then tried the back door. Locked. I ran round the side of the house, looking for the spare key Mam insisted on keeping taped under a window ledge. I glanced around. No car in the drive. My parents weren't home. Good. I checked my phone for the time. School was long over. I hadn't made it there at all.

I unlocked the front door and went inside, straight for the bathroom where I scrubbed my hands for at least ten minutes, trying to get all of the dirt out from under my nails. The warm water melted away some of the cold, but the trembling refused to stop.

I got changed, threw my dirty clothes straight into the washing machine, then sat on the bottom step of my stairs and freaked the hell out. I had done it again. Sleepwalked. Who had seen me this time? I couldn't even remember falling asleep. I remembered getting off the bus on the way to school, and then...

I searched the house. My school bag wasn't there. Where the hell was it? My fingers shook as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I was insane. I had to be. I was losing my mind, my control, and the only place for me was some kind of mental institution.

How could I tell my parents I had been sleepwalking without even falling asleep? Or worse, that I had fallen asleep on the street somewhere. And my bag, full of books we couldn't afford to replace. I ran my hands through my hair, sweat trickling down my back. I couldn't fix _this_.

A knock at the door made me jump. I tried ignoring it, but the knocking didn't stop, and every pound made my heart leap in my chest until I couldn't bear it any longer.

I answered. Dorian stood there, his nose pink with cold, and his eyes rimmed with red.

"Dorian," I said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He dumped my schoolbag at my feet without a word.

"Was I at your house?" I whispered. "Did I... did I fall asleep?"

His brows knitted together. "Asleep?"

"Never mind. Thank you for bringing my bag back. I... misplaced it."

"At the side of the road?" he asked. "You just happened to drop it there?"

"I must be... forgetful." My cheeks burned. "Thanks for returning it." I made to close the door, but he held it open, and I couldn't stop him, no matter how hard I pushed. So I stopped trying and glared at him instead. "What's your problem?"

"Where were you today? You didn't go to school."

"What are you, my stalker?"

He sniffed the air. "Those clothes are too clean. Why did you change?"

I swallowed hard, taken aback by the questions and the fact he sounded close to tears.

"Just tell me what happened, Margo. What did you see? I know it couldn't have been you. It _couldn't_ be." He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself. I just had no idea what exactly he was talking about. And that was worse.

"What couldn't have been me?" I said. "Did you see me today? Was I... Was I awake?"

A car pulled up outside, and Dorian took a step back. "You're upset," he said. "But not upset enough."

My parents got out of the car. Dorian took one last look at me. "I'll see you at school."

He walked off before I could form an answer. I had no clue what was going on. My parents greeted Dorian then came into the house.

"I waited for you after school for a while," Dad said. "Were you out with Dorian?"

I had no idea. "What's for dinner?" I asked to change the subject. "I'm starving."

"I thought you were starving," Mam teased as I pushed food around my plate.

"Eyes too big for my belly." I still hadn't figured out the conversation with Dorian, but I knew I had to broach the subject of sleepwalking with my parents. There had to be a reason for it, something understandable that would explain away the things that didn't make sense.

"Everything okay?" Dad asked. "You don't seem yourself today."

"No, nothing's okay." I dropped my fork. "I woke up in the backyard today."

"You were sleepwalking?" Mam's face paled. I knew what she was thinking. We couldn't afford to move again.

"There was dirt all over me," I said. "And leaves, and... I was filthy, but I don't remember falling asleep. I'm scared that I'm losing my mind, and I think Dorian saw me, and..." I looked at my parents. "What does it look like? When I sleepwalk?"

They exchanged a worried glance that chilled me. Something bad. It had to be something bad.

"You look like you're awake," Dad said. "But you don't hear us, don't see us. You're focused on wherever you're trying to go."

"But why?" I asked. "Why am I always trying to go somewhere? How can I not remember?"

"The mind works in funny ways," Mam said. "Don't worry about it. We'll keep an eye on you, and maybe... maybe tomorrow, we should take the day off and visit a doctor. It might be time to get another prescription."

"I know. I just don't like medicating myself," I said numbly. "I hate how it feels." But I knew she was right; I had already come to the same conclusion myself.

"Just for a little while," Dad said. "Just until... we get settled."

I had to suck it up, for their sakes. If it took daily pills to make me normal, then it was a worthy sacrifice to make.

# Chapter 22

Dorian

* * *

I sat at the edge of the woods, my back against a broad tree as I faced the houses the pack owned. The woods had been declared strictly off-limits, and the pack was too hard to be around. Since Alex... nothing felt right. She had been murdered, which was bad enough, but she had been stabbed in the back. Nobody could have snuck up on Alex. She would never have turned her back to someone unless she trusted them, and she didn't trust many people. The thought of her trusting the very person who killed her, validating every fear she had, made my stomach clench.

Worse, somebody had made it look as though she'd tried to run away from the pack, and because the others didn't know she'd left her passport behind, they'd all started exchanging rumours about Alex's intentions.

We couldn't even openly mourn her because nobody wanted to gain the attention of the police. It was pack business, and the pack would resolve matters in its own way. But if the culprit really was human, then the alpha would have a lot of problems trying to control a pack of angry werewolves.

Mara joined me, sitting cross-legged as she held on to the necklace Alex had given her. "I miss her."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I hate sleeping alone. Can I come to your room tonight?"

I considered my answer carefully. "You know Perdita doesn't like that."

Her face was pale. "Just to sleep. Just to be... not alone."

"Come over then," I said. "No sneaking. Walk through the front door."

She nodded, and a large tear ran down her cheek. "We should be doing something, Dorian. It's not right. It feels like we're pretending nothing happened."

"Byron's trying to keep the rest of us safe." But I knew what she meant. I felt it, too.

"One of _us_ killed Alex," she said fiercely. "I'm going to find out who, and I'm going to rip them apart."

"Mara..."

"Don't." She wiped her face with her sleeves. "Don't you dare tell me to calm down or trust the alpha. Alex trusted him, and now she's dead. And her killer is _here_ , pretending to mourn her. I know it. You know it. The alpha knows it. And nobody's doing anything but _me_."

She stormed off, leaving me with my head in my hands. I didn't know what to do, how to help her. I still couldn't quite believe Alex wasn't going to come running through the gates, breathless and sweaty, exhilarated after a run. I hadn't always liked her, but she'd had a tough life, and she hadn't done anything to deserve being stabbed in the back.

Ryan approached, stopping in front of me. I wondered how long he'd been watching us. "How is she doing?"

I looked up at him. "Mara? Not great."

"And you? I know you prefer to be alone, but at times like this, it's easier to manage when we stick together."

Not for me. I couldn't stand the constant speculation, not when I knew something I hadn't shared. Margo had been there. There was something _wrong_ with Margo. And I had said nothing because I didn't want anyone to hurt her. I had betrayed the pack. When they found out, they would rip me apart. And I would deserve it.

When Ryan sat next to me, I tensed. He wasn't one of the gossipers, but plenty of the pack had imagined a scenario about Alex in which she had run off with a human, revealed her true nature, then been stabbed in the back for her trouble. It was all so stupid.

"I know finding the body must have been difficult," Ryan began.

I held up my hands. "Don't. I don't want to talk about it."

"Holding everything inside won't help you."

"I don't need help." I nodded toward the houses. " _They_ need help. Talking about Alex running off with a human when we all know exactly what she was like. It's stupid."

"You're right. It is, but they need to do something to cope with their grief."

"Why did Alex have to die?" A shudder of emotion ran through me. "A wolf did this, Ryan."

"I don't know what happened, but I don't disagree with you. I think the killer made it look like a human killing. I think they made it look like Alex ran from us. And I think they won't stop with Alex."

"What if they didn't start with Alex?" I said after a long moment. "What if they started with Eric?"

"Eric called," he said, "but it's not outside the realm of possibility to imagine that someone pretending to be Eric called. Either way, if you see anything, hear _anything_ , tell someone, Dorian."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because something's troubling you, and I think it goes beyond finding Alex or pack gossip. We have a lot in common, Dorian. Byron took us in, and we're grateful for that. And I know from experience that it's better to be upfront than carry secrets alone. I'm here to talk if you need to. Just think about it."

He left me then. I watched him walk away. Maybe he could read me well because he was a father. Or maybe he was really the killer and was trying to figure out what I knew. I shivered and shook that off. I couldn't go around suspecting everyone in my life.

And I couldn't openly grieve either because if the police looked at us too carefully, other secrets might unfold. So we pretended Alex left, and Byron made sure the body was removed, and I wasn't even sure what happened next. I just knew it wasn't the first time a body had been hidden, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

Mara came to my house after dark, her eyes red-rimmed, and her cheeks tear-stained. She didn't say anything, just stood in the doorway, staring at her feet. Perdita was the one who moved first, ushering Mara into the living room. Nathan made some snacks, and I watched Mara cry on Perdita's shoulder, letting herself mourn. She'd been so close to Alex that it had insulated her, made her reluctant to trust anyone outside her inner circle.

The four of us sat up most of the night, and Mara talked, more than I'd ever heard her. About Alex, their plans, how everything had changed for them both in the pack.

"She would have been okay." She brushed her sleeve across her nose. "She was getting better. She trusted Byron. She told me to trust him. That was hard for her. To trust men. But she trusted the wrong person because a wolf killed her." She shot Nathan a hot, fierce look. "Are you going to tell me it was a human?"

"No," he said gently. "Some of us know it had to be a werewolf, and I swear to you that we are looking into every member of this pack. We just don't want to alert the killer too soon. So for now, we want everyone to go around in groups of three or more. No walking alone until we figure out what exactly happened. We're using the spirit board fiasco to cover up what we're looking into, but know that we won't let this go. Alex won't be forgotten."

Mara nodded, her lips thinning as she pressed them together. She wouldn't let it go. Not ever.

The next morning, Mara and I walked to school with the others. Mara's fingers clenched into fists as the others gossiped loudly about Alex.

After a number of idiotic comments, Alison spoke up. "Some people are saying she went after Eric, and he killed her because she's the one who drove him away in the first place."

"What did you just say?" I blurted.

She cast me a scornful look. "That Alex missed having it off with Eric."

"She wasn't with Eric," Mara said in a voice that was too calm to be safe.

Alison didn't see the danger. "I mean, not only him."

Only I heard Mara's growl. "Watch your mouth."

Victor turned around impatiently. "Oh, come on, Mara. Don't act like Alex wasn't sleeping with half the pack. She used people. Eric, Dom, she was even giving _me_ hints."

"Shut up, Victor," I said, inching ahead of Mara, preparing myself to stop her.

"Why, you jealous, Dory? You were about the only one she wasn't coming on to. She was probably sneaking into the alpha's bed. We all know he's been lonely since his human bitch couldn't take the pressure and left him."

The world boiled up around me, whistling in my ears as something deep inside me threatened to explode.

"But wait," Victor said, a smug grin on his face. "Maybe all of that was a front to cover up who she was really doing. I mean, you two had a lot of girlie nights in, didn't you, Mara?"

My fist connected with his nose before the words even sank in. I wasn't sure why I'd hit him, only that I didn't want Mara to. And he deserved it.

His eyes widened with surprise as he pinched the bridge of his now bleeding nose. "Your mistake was not running after you got a lucky shot in, Dory."

Mara squared up to him, vibrating with anger and aggression. The others all stepped back, but Victor held his ground, if a little uncertainly. "If you touch him, even look at him, I will rip you apart. I won't hold back anymore."

"Bloody hell." He turned his back on her. "She's as crazy as Alex."

I had to move fast to hold back Mara. She screamed profanities at him in several languages as the others urged Victor away. She hit me, lashing out over and over again, and I took it until she calmed down. Finally, her anger wore down into grief, and she pressed her face against my chest, but she refused to cry.

"I'm going to kill him."

"Victor's not worth it," I said.

She shrugged me off. "We should get to school. I have homework to finish."

"Wanna copy mine?"

She looked up at me, her chin trembling. "You're the only one I trust now, Dorian. Now that Alex is gone. If they send you away, I'm going with you, okay? I'll protect you from now on."

"Mara." My voice cracked. She was as desperate to stay as anyone. She couldn't leave for me.

"It's me and you now." She sounded so determined that I couldn't argue with her. But I hugged her first, and this time, she let me.

Later, at lunch, Mara wasn't in the canteen.

"Where's Mara?" I asked the others.

"Probably needed to run during classes," Victor said. "She's in a bitch of a mood today."

"She shouldn't be running off," I said under my breath. "There's a killer out there."

"They won't get lucky twice," Victor said which just kicked off a shitstorm of werewolf posturing at the table. I left them to it. I'd never match up. And I was starting to think I'd never want to.

I headed outside and noticed Margo sitting alone on the steps in front of the school. Cursing myself, because I should have kept far away from that girl, I headed over to her. She looked exhausted. Dark bags hung under her red-tinged eyes.

I should have interrogated her, but what came out of my mouth was, "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." She frowned at the ghost of a bruise on my cheekbone left by Mara. "What happened to you? Was it Victor?"

"It's nothing." I took a step closer to her. The chill was gone, or rather it was mightily subdued. She jumped with fright, an odd overreaction, and knocked her bag over. A capsule of pills rolled down the steps and away from her. I chased them down and picked them up.

"What are these for?" I asked, handing them back to her.

She blushed furiously. "Me."

"Are you sick or something?"

"I just... I sleepwalk sometimes. These help me sleep deeply enough to avoid that."

"You don't look like you're getting a lot of deep sleep, Margo."

She slipped the pills into her bag. "Just started them. Takes a few days to kick in properly."

She walked away. I stared after her. Margo was a sleepwalker. That was why her scent had been in the woods, why I had seen her that night. She wasn't a part of what was happening, after all. One less thing to worry about.

So why didn't I feel any better?

Mara wasn't outside after school with the rest of the wolves. Nobody had seen her since that morning. A dark worry clung to me, so I hurried home, found Ryan and told him what I knew.

"Did she actually tell anyone she was going for a run?" he asked.

I shook my head. "She was upset because the others were gossiping about Alex. Nobody saw her after we arrived at school. I'm not sure she was in the morning classes at all, but that's usual for her."

"She skips school a lot?"

"She likes to run. Pack runs aren't enough for her. She's pretty dominant, has a lot of excess energy, particularly after she's been told what to do. Alex was the only one who didn't rub her up the wrong way by being bossy."

"They shared a room despite both being dominant?"

"Alex was more dominant than Mara, and Mara accepted that. It wasn't a big deal, most of the time."

He rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "Do you think Mara could have been the one who hurt Alex? Had she reached the point where she was sick of being bossed around?"

"They were like sisters," I said in disbelief. "Mara would have fought her as wolf, not stabbed her in the back."

"But she could have fought Alex?"

"Maybe. I don't know! No, I do know. They cared about each other. Alex wanted to rewrite history and give Mara a better life than she had, and Mara saw how Alex behaved as a reason to look out for her."

"You noticed that?" He frowned. "Even people who care about each other can snap."

"Mara didn't hurt Alex! Why are you so keen on blaming her for this?"

"I've seen this happen before," he admitted. "When too many dominant wolves are around together, things go wrong. The alpha of the old pack often got rid of the more dominant wolves to avoid anyone staking a claim. Byron's accepted everyone as is. That's noble, but not without its consequences."

"There are other dominant wolves," I said, a sudden fear gripping me. "What if this isn't over?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Ryan said.

"Mara... she thought somebody in the pack hurt Alex. She said she was going to find out who and deal with them herself."

"A lot of werewolves have been saying things like that. It doesn't mean much."

Unless it had put Mara in the direct path of danger.

I raced over to Mara's home. Her schoolbag was in her room. I tried to trace her scent to figure out where she had gone, but it got complicated. I kept trying and wound up by the woods.

"Dorian!"

I froze, my wolf wanting to continue yet knowing we had to obey Nathan's voice at the same time.

"Dorian," Nathan said, more firmly, and I turned slowly.

He was with Ryan, and I knew he'd been told about Mara.

"Her bag's here," I said. "And I'm pretty sure she went into the woods."

Ryan and Nathan exchanged a look.

"Go home," Nathan said. "We'll look for her."

"But—"

He gripped my shoulder tightly. "Go home. Stay with Perdita. _Protect_ her. Do you understand me? We'll find Mara. Just stay home."

I stared at him dumbly, then started walking when Ryan gently shoved me in the direction of home. I explained to Perdita what was happening and watched out the window as a large group of adults set off into the woods.

Victor stood outside his house, his face pale and horrified. When he caught me looking, I turned away.

A couple of hours later, somebody howled in the forest. The howls passed on, from one wolf to another, until my wolf whimpered. Something was badly wrong.

I rushed outside. I wasn't the only one. Alison was already crying, clinging to Victor for support. Perdita reached me and wrapped her arm around my mid-section. I watched everyone as though I wasn't a part of it, as though I wasn't feeling the same dread.

Perdita's heart raced so loud, it made me anxious.

"It's bad, isn't it?" I asked.

She didn't say anything, only stared at the woods.

We waited for a long time, more and more people joining us, until Dominic appeared through the trees, Mara's limp form in his arms. Tears ran down his cheeks like water. He had been raised with Mara, I remembered. He knew her better than most of us. For the first time I noticed the similarity in their colouring. They were probably blood related. A sharp pain inside streamed and bloomed until my entire body was shaking.

"She's dead," he said weakly. "It was one of _them_. That girl, the daughter of the landscaper. She was near the body. I caught her scent. Her smell is all over Mara."

And then he fell to his knees in his grief.

# Chapter 23

Margo

* * *

Something hit my window so hard that the frame trembled. I looked up from my book in surprise. I should have been asleep hours ago, but I'd been too anxious, and I hadn't bothered to take a tablet until I was ready to lay down.

Warily, I moved to the window and looked outside. Dorian. My stomach turned over with a mix of nervousness and excitement. How had he known which room was mine?

I shoved the window open. "What the hell?" I whispered as loudly as I dared.

He didn't hesitate. As I watched in astonishment, he climbed up the drainpipe and into my window.

I stepped back in surprise as he loomed over me, his eyes flashing with anger, of all things. "Are you... okay?"

"Did you kill her?" he said harshly. "Or do you know who did?"

That wasn't what I was expecting. "Excuse me?"

He closed the space between us. "Tell me you're not involved, Margo. _Please_." He gripped my arms, pulled me to him, and sniffed my neck.

"What are you _doing_?" I wriggled, desperately trying to get out of his grasp, even attempting the self defence moves he had taught me, but he held on with an unnaturally tight grip. What was the point of taking a class if it didn't help me? Or was that the point? My breathing grew laboured. "Let _go_."

He sniffed my hair, his fingers pinching into my skin.

"You're hurting me!"

He let go. "You were wearing these clothes today," he said under his breath. I had a feeling he was talking to himself rather than me. "There's no death on you. You couldn't have gotten close enough."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I shoved him. "Are you completely mad?"

"Why were you in the woods?" he asked then faltered, running his hands through his hair. His fingers were shaking. "He never said it was the woods. What was I thinking? I should have listened to them talk first."

"Seriously, are you insane? What the hell are you doing in my room at," I looked at the clock, "three in the morning, muttering to yourself like a headcase? Get out! Now."

"No." He sat on the floor and pulled me down to face him, his hands gripping my wrists frustratingly securely. "Tell me what you are."

I stopped struggling. That was the question that had been at the back of my mind most of my life. Not _who_ was I, but _what_ was I?

"What are you?" he said urgently. "This is important."

I swallowed hard. "Is that a trick question?"

"I'm serious, Margo. You're in so much danger right now. If you don't tell me what you are, what you know, what you _did_ , then I can't help you."

"I have no idea what the hell you're on about, Dorian. If you're not going to make any sense, then leave."

"Have you taken your pills?" he asked suddenly.

"Not yet, not that it's any of your business. Listen, my parents are across the hall. All I have to do is shout, and they'll—"

I was on my back before I could take another breath. Dorian pinned me, his hand across my mouth. But there was no anger in his eyes, nothing but weariness.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "But I need you to listen. Will you listen to me?"

I did my best to shake my head and look as furious as possible.

He sighed. "I'm a werewolf," he said. "That's my secret. Now what's yours?" He let go and eased off.

I took the opportunity to slap him across the head. "This isn't funny, Dorian!"

"I know it's not," he said, moving away from me. "Werewolves are going missing and winding up dead, and the pack thinks you have something to do with it. You won't be safe until we prove you're innocent, but I need your help with that."

That was it. Beyond my limit. "You and your stupid town can cut this shit out, pronto. I'm not taking part in your little games with your Halloween pranks and your werewolf jokes. I'm not amused."

"I'm not joking. I'm a werewolf, just like most of the people I know. And those werewolves think you had something to do with Mara's death because your scent was near her body, and we both know there's something different about you, so if you don't tell me—"

"Wait a minute," I said, feeling as though I'd been kicked in the chest. "Mara's _death_? You're making jokes about her being dead now?" That was too far. I shut down on him completely. "Get out. Just get out of here. I'm not interested in these sick jokes."

"It's a shock," he said. "You need time to think about it. That's fine. You can have time." He moved to the window and looked back at me. "But I saw you in the woods once before, your eyes all blue like when Emma had her accident. And all of that weird Halloween stuff happened because you were there. I'm not the only one who isn't human in this room, so I'll be back. You had better hope it's me, not the others." His expression went cold, scary even. "And if I find out you had anything to do with Mara, that you hid the truth, you'll have to deal with me first."

He climbed out. I hurriedly locked the window after him then ran downstairs and checked the doors and windows were locked downstairs, too. The town was full of lunatics; it was official. A thread of fear had wound around me, and I couldn't let it go. Fake werewolves and deaths were one thing, actual lunatics were quite another.

I touched the mark on my chest, a bruise that had come out of nowhere—something I couldn't explain. And I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

As my outrage died down, his words started to sink in. He'd seen me in the woods. He'd noticed me sleepwalking. And he didn't think I was human. Did _I_? Did I really believe that I had caused the incidents at Halloween, Emma's accident, and maybe more? I had moved across counties because the people I'd grown up around believed I'd hurt a dog. If I didn't remember hurting anything, did that make me innocent—or just a fool?

# Chapter 24

Dorian

* * *

I climbed down Margo's drainpipe and walked straight into a steel grip.

I froze, unable to look Dominic in the eyes.

"What are you doing here, Dorian?" he asked sternly. "Did you do something to her?"

"No," I said sullenly. "I came for answers, but she didn't give me any."

Dominic frowned. "You need to get home and stay out of trouble. Come on, I'll give you a lift."

"Are you going to—"

"Can't keep this from the alpha, kid. You made a big mistake coming here. What were you going to do if anyone came for her?" He tutted. "The girl is bad news. Keep away from her."

He dragged me to his car to drive me home. "You know she could be the murderer," he said as he drove. "You understand the danger?"

"I don't think she's a murderer."

"Be careful who you say that around. The killer could be one of your little buddies who must be very happy right now that the blame has landed at that girl's feet."

I looked at his profile in surprise. He was too relaxed. Maybe if I was dominant, I wouldn't be as nervous. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Just been thinking, that's all. Victor was always giving Mara a hard time. Maybe he went too far."

They had been fighting before she disappeared. Victor was a bully, but did that make him capable of murder?

We reached Werewolf Row where Dominic hauled me in front of Byron, quickly explaining where he had found me. I stared at my feet, my cheeks hot. Amelia had been in the room when we arrived, sitting in a chair to my left. I didn't dare meet her gaze.

"That's enough for now," Byron told Dominic. "Go back to your task."

Dominic hesitated a hair too long, enough to make me glance at him, but his face was a mask, and he turned to leave.

I stood in front of Byron's desk, mortified. Disappointing the alpha was about the most foolish thing I could do. Now he knew that I was a traitor, that I had gone straight to Margo to warn her. I'd gone there in a bluster of anger and grief, but her face... she'd had no idea what I was talking about. She was as scared as the rest of us. And she thought I was making the whole thing up because I had gone and told her about werewolves.

But she wasn't a murderer.

"She didn't do it." I couldn't believe I was even capable of speaking in front of Byron, but somebody had to see sense before Margo got hurt. "I know she didn't. She has no idea what I was talking about. They'll kill her without even knowing the truth."

"I agree," Byron said, surprising me. "That's why I sent Dominic to protect her home tonight. Which is how he found you."

Amelia sat in a chair at the side of the desk, studying me. "We need to know more. None of us want an innocent girl to get hurt." She glanced at Byron. "I think we've had enough of that by now."

"Dominic won't protect her," I said. "He's too busy trying to blame her or anyone. I know he's upset—I am, too—but he's going to get somebody killed."

"He's right about Dom," Amelia said thoughtfully. "There are too many dominant wolves here for this kind of event. They'll go crazy for want of protecting their own. The loss of a female wolf in particular is hitting hard, and the atmosphere around here has been off since I got back."

"I'll control the pack," Byron said. "Things will die down when we find the killer, but Dorian, the girl's scent was around the scene of... She was there, in the place Mara died. Do you know something about this?"

It was time to confess. "There's something different about her. She just... winds up in places she shouldn't. She was at the place where Alex died, too." I didn't dare lift my gaze. "One time I found her with the rabbits I'd hunted. She told me she has a sleepwalking problem, and maybe that doesn't explain everything, but she's taking medication for it. I saw the tablets. And I talked to her, questioned her. I can tell she has no idea what's happening. I think maybe she was sleepwalking that time she interrupted Amelia's circle."

"That's intriguing," Amelia said. "But she could be a convincing liar."

"She's not. When I went to her tonight, she was wearing the same clothes she's had on since school, and there was no blood on her, no marks or injuries. What reason could she have to hurt one of us? _How_ could she do it? She's been to the self-defence class. She's not as strong as us. She couldn't have broken Mara's neck."

"She was strong when she interrupted us," Amelia said. "I might go see the girl. Maybe I'll be able to read her a little."

"Mara and Alex were killed by a werewolf," I whispered, barely able to get the words out, I felt like such a traitor. "And probably Eric, too. He was so happy when he was allowed to stay here. He wouldn't have just left."

"There seems to be a lot more to this," Amelia said. "The spirit, the girl, the murders... it all has to be connected. I just can't see how. We desperately need to learn more—before it's too late."

"Be careful," Byron said. "I thought I could rewrite history, wipe out the darkness of the past, but I was wrong, and it doesn't matter who the killer is if we're all at risk."

"I don't think _I_ am," she said thoughtfully. "But I will be careful. Dorian, walk me out. I want to pick your brains a little." She beckoned me to follow her.

I hesitated, looking at Byron. "I'm not in trouble?"

Byron's expression softened. "You did what you thought was best. I wish the others would make tempered decisions as often as you do. But no more running around at night alone. It's too dangerous."

I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me.

Outside, Amelia held my arm to still me. "This could be dangerous for you, Dorian. You can't get in the way when the time comes to confront the killer, no matter who they are."

"I wasn't planning to," I said sullenly.

Ryan came into the hallway then stopped short.

"You may already have gotten in their way." She waved Ryan over. He hesitated as though considering leaving. "I need your help," she said pleadingly.

He glanced at me then came over. "What is it?"

"I want to consult the spirit board again. Will you help me?"

He met her gaze. "It could be dangerous. The deaths didn't start until you interfered with the board."

"Then I have to fix it," she said. "Ryan, I need you."

He blew out a shaky breath. "Once more," he said. "And then I'm done. I don't like it when you deal with death, Amelia. It never brings good news."

"I think I know better than anyone what it brings," she said sharply. "Meet me at Nathan's as soon as you can. Keep this a secret in case..."

"In case what?" he asked.

"In case I find out who the killer is," she said under her breath.

He nodded grimly. "I'll be there later." He left us alone.

"You, too," she said to me. "You must be there with us, Dorian. You're like Ryan, calm enough to be useful. But you have to be wary when it comes to Margo. If she's involved..."

"I cared about Mara," I said past a lump in my throat. "I was closer to her than anyone else in this pack, bar Alex. If anyone thinks I don't want to know what happened to her—"

"I know," she said gently, pressing her palm against my forearm. I immediately felt calmer, thanks to her being the omega. But even an omega hadn't been enough to save the pack if we were turning on each other. "And by helping me tonight, we might get a step further. One way or another, you'll hear the truth about your friend."

"What if she has something to do with the killings?" I asked.

Her face creased with pity. "Then she'll pay the price."

My face grew hot as we held hands around the circle. There were five of us in total: Amelia, Ryan, Nathan, Perdita, and me. Nathan and Perdita hadn't been angry with me for going to Margo, but they were so busy with their grief that the reality of what I'd done likely hadn't set in yet. The whole family had taken the news about Alex hard because she had reminded them of another female wolf they couldn't save—losing Mara just made the situation seem impossible. They should have been worrying about how weak the unexpected deaths made Byron appear.

"I hope you're right about this," Nathan said warningly to his sister.

"I don't have a choice," Amelia said. "The last circle was broken, and the deaths came afterward. I have a bad feeling that we screwed up that night, that we made things worse than they should be. I just don't know how."

"So how will we fix this?" Perdita asked.

Amelia looked tired. "I'm not sure yet. It depends on what I hear. You know what it's like, Perdita. They'll tell us what we need to know when they're good and ready. And if we don't understand, then so be it."

The candles were already burning, but I felt sure they flared a little brighter when Amelia closed her eyes and started talking. She closed the circle, and I experienced a sense of peace that hadn't been there before. A kind of warm protection settled around us; it hadn't been there the last time she tried to reach the spirits.

Amelia sat in the centre of the circle, guarded by the rest of us. Hopefully, anyway. Last time hadn't worked out so well. As long as Margo didn't suddenly turn up again—that could get dangerous for her.

Amelia called out to the spirit world and asked for help from her ancestors, two of whom were buried in the back yard—or at least, their ashes had been spread there. I shivered as I remembered how Margo had stared at the patch of violets that marked the site. Death had linked itself to Margo somehow. That was the only thing that made sense to me.

The spirit world soon answered Amelia—a little too eagerly, I thought—and we all watched as the board spelled out answers to her questions.

Amelia let out a shaky breath. "Was a spirit released into our world on Halloween night?"

_Yes_.

"What did it want?"

_Peace_.

That didn't sound right to me.

"Did we contain it?"

_No_.

"Where is it now?"

The window opened and shut. _Stuck_.

"Stuck?" Even Amelia sounded confused. "Stuck where?"

_Murderer_.

"The spirit is attached to the murderer." Amelia's expression turned grave. "How do we fix this?"

_Harbinger_.

The word struck a familiar chord, and my stomach twisted.

"What does that mean?" Amelia asked. "What does a harbinger do?"

_Peace_.

And then it was done, suddenly, abruptly, all of the warmth stolen from the air. Amelia almost toppled over, exhausted, but Ryan caught her before she fell. He helped her onto the chair.

"I'm not sure I understood that correctly," Amelia said. "The spirit wanted peace, but it got stuck to someone who started murdering people. But was that _because_ of the spirit somehow?"

My stomach turned. "So the killer might not even remember what they did?"

"That's too cruel," Perdita said.

"What did the harbinger part mean?" Nathan asked.

"The word usually means a kind of herald to announce something, or a signifier of something that will happen," Perdita said. "But Amelia, you made it sound like an actual person."

"I get feelings," Amelia said slowly. "I felt like they meant a specific person. Maybe I was wrong. I don't understand how this fits."

"There was an old man at one of Vin's camps who spoke of harbingers," Ryan said. "Messengers of doom, or signs of death. Nobody believed they were actual people, but he said our ancestors tried to wipe them out, that their kind hated ours, and vice versa. I just assumed it was some kind of allegory."

"But the board said the spirit wanted peace, and when I asked what a harbinger does, the board repeated peace. Does it mean that when we released the spirit, it tried to find a harbinger?" Amelia shook her head. "How does a harbinger bring peace though? With warnings like some kind of psychic? By sending the spirit back? With _death_?"

"We've no way of knowing." Nathan looked at me. "Are you all right?"

My stomach had been churning, so I shook my head. "The old woman who took care of us... there was one night when a wolf came, looking for shelter. He said a harbinger was coming for him. She sent him away, refused to let him stay in case the harbinger took all of us. It was the only time I saw her scared—apart from when Byron showed up."

"What happened to the wolf?" Perdita asked.

"She told us stories about the harbingers, how they hate us because we're strong enough to sway the balance of life and death." I shrugged. "She made it sound as though that was it. He was dead. And on Halloween, the spirit... it's gone after Margo a number of times. And Margo, she's... She looked at that patch of flowers out back like she knew what was buried there. She was with a rabbit I killed, and her eyes were different. And Emma... she was caught in the reeds when she fell into the canal. I was only there because Margo's eyes changed, and she led me there, and then... I scented her near Alex's body. I think maybe she disturbed the grave, helped us find her."

"What?" Nathan's face almost turned purple. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"Because I knew Margo didn't kill anyone. She has no idea what's going on either! But the spirit or whatever keeps going after her, and she's always around death, so maybe... maybe Margo is the harbinger. She has a problem with sleepwalking. Maybe that has something to do with it. She's trying to warn us, but she doesn't know she's supposed to, so her subconscious is trying to do it."

Nathan swore loudly. "Of all the idiot—"

"He told Byron about it already," Amelia said.

"That doesn't make it any better!"

"Calm down," Perdita said. "He did what he thought was best for everyone. He waited until he had more information instead of riling everybody up like Dominic and the others have been."

Nathan rubbed his hands over his face. "Dor, you can't hide shit like this. It's not right. How can I keep you safe if I don't even know what's going on with you anymore?"

"I was scared for her," I said, horrified by the disappointment on Nathan's face. "I didn't know anything for sure!"

"If the harbinger deals with the murderer, is she supposed to kill him or stop him?" Perdita asked. "It sounded like the spirits think we need the harbinger to fix things, but how exactly? We can't expect the pack's safety and future to hinge on a teenage girl."

"Again," Nathan muttered in disgust.

"It's confusing." Amelia sighed. "Always is."

"Let's say this kid really is a harbinger," Nathan said. "And she might be the key to solving the murders. What do we do about it?"

Everyone fell silent. We had no more answers than a day ago.

"What if we're wrong, and this girl is somehow the killer we're after?" Ryan asked.

I refused to look at him. I'd been told harbingers equalled death, and now I wasn't so sure of my answers anymore. If harbingers brought death, then it was Margo's fault my friend was dead, even if she never meant it.

# Chapter 25

Margo

* * *

Dorian was on my mind all night. Either he was insane, or something really did happen to Mara. And then there was me. I'd been sleepwalking again, and Dorian seemed to think it meant something. But he believed in werewolves, so why the hell was I listening to him anyway?

By morning, I had shaken it all off as a fake story, another trick. He hadn't seemed the type, but colour me fooled.

So the next morning, I went to school as normal and acted like nothing was different. Emma greeted me on the front steps as though we were friends. We were all ignoring the obvious then.

"Hey," she said. "See you on Saturday at Drama, right?" She hadn't been there when the others basically banned me, but she'd obviously heard from Tammie that I was now welcome.

"I suppose," I said warily. "How are you feeling?"

She touched the stitches on her forehead. "Good. It wasn't a big deal in the end. Dorian..." She bit her lip then shrugged. "Maybe that crowd aren't all bad."

Maybe they were worse. "Who knows?" I said lightly. "See you around, Emma."

I went inside, carefully watching out for Dorian. I saw him a couple of times, surrounded by his usual crew—except Mara. They all looked depressed, barely speaking, even to each other. Good acting?

Uneasiness squirmed in my belly, but I ignored it. Nobody apart from Dorian's group were acting any differently. Surely there would be an announcement and an outpouring of grief if a student actually died.

My final class of the day was free, so I decided to take off. Others had the same idea, so I waited a few minutes to avoid that awkward moment when they all ignored me on the way out. Emma might have approached me, but that was obviously because she'd been coached to by Tammie. Chloe had cast a couple of glances my way during the way, but she hadn't actually spoken to me at all.

Outside, I spotted Victor waiting by the front steps. He looked up at me, and I automatically smiled at him. His expression transformed into one of hate and rage, and I instinctively moved backward.

He leapt up the steps in one swift movement then knocked me back against the wall, his hand curled around my neck. For a few seconds, I stood frozen in terror before trying to fight him off. He was way too strong for me, freakishly strong. Strong like Dorian, but without the calm steadiness that had been somehow reassuring in my room. I had never been scared of Dorian. Victor was very different.

"Get _off_ me!" I ineffectively struggled against his grip, feeling pathetic. I had to learn how to fight. No way was I going to let anyone make me feel so weak again.

"If you're the one who hurt Mara, I'll kill you," he growled, his mouth sounding like it was full. Something sharp pinched the skin on my neck, and I started to see black spots in my vision. Then a flash of movement to my left distracted Victor who let go as someone barrelled into him.

I had never been so pleased to see Dorian in my life.

He calmly pinned Victor to the ground, making it look effortless. "Leave her alone."

"What did you say to me?" Victor hissed. His eyes widened as though he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"Don't touch her." Dorian got up off him and helped him to his feet. "She didn't do anything."

"Are you seriously suckered into," Victor pointed at me, _"this_?"

Dorian's gaze remained steady. "Byron warned you."

Victor looked as though he might spontaneously combust. "You finally grow balls, and it's for her? Not Mara or Alex. But _her_?" He sounded on the verge of tears, and somehow, that scared me more than the violence. Something was very wrong.

"Go home," Dorian said firmly. "See if there's any news. I'll deal with this."

Victor calmed slightly. "You had better." He turned and walked away, looking over his shoulder to glare at me every couple of seconds.

"He's a..." I touched my stinging neck and winced. "I'm _bleeding_."

Dorian took a quick look at me. "You'll be fine."

"That's not the point! He's an absolute psycho. You're all mad, do you know that?"

He shrugged. How was he so calm? Adrenaline was still pumping through my veins. "I'll walk you home. I don't want him to see you again today in case you provoke him."

"Provoke him?" Irate, I pointed at my neck. "I didn't do anything to him!"

"You exist," he said in a weary tone. "That's enough for him."

My eyes filled with tears. "What the hell is wrong with you people? You're all arseholes. Every single one of you."

"I'm sorry." His expression softened. "I told you what I am. It's not my fault if you don't believe me."

"I don't mean your crowd. I mean literally every single person in this town. I've done nothing wrong, and everybody hates me!"

"But _we_ don't know that." He closed the space between us. "You're different, Margo. There's a chill around you, and unexplainable things happen in your presence."

"What do you mean, _a chill_?" I scoffed. "There's no chill, and things don't happen when I'm around. I've had friends my entire life."

"Then why did you move here?"

I froze. Yes, something strange had happened, but everyone had overreacted. My heart refused to stop racing.

"Listen," he said. "There's something about you that puts people off, makes them wary of getting close to you. It's a physical thing, but most people don't notice, at least not on the surface, because they're not werewolves, or they're used to you, or you've let them get close enough to you to get past this... _shield_ around you. And since you started taking those tablets, it's grown subdued. Did you take that medication in your old home?"

I nodded slowly. "Almost every day since I was a kid."

"Almost?"

"At the end... they took me off, said I'd grown too dependent on it. And that's when it happened."

"What happened?" he whispered.

I shrank back, unwilling to lay myself completely bare.

"Please, Margo," he said. "Just talk to me. I'm tired of secrets. Maybe we can figure this out if we both know everything."

I swallowed. I wanted to tell him, but I was afraid of his reaction, of saying the words out loud to somebody other than my parents. It was my embarrassing little secret, one that had driven me out of my home, but it seemed my secrets had followed me.

"You don't have to be afraid of me."

I knew that. I did. And the words came tumbling forth while I stood outside my body watching this other me open up the past and dig right in. "I woke up at the side of a road, covered in blood, with my neighbour's dog laying dead next to me. The vet swore he was knocked down, but all people remembered was the fact I was there."

Dorian jolted.

"What is it?" I asked.

"My pack thinks—"

I could have slapped him. "Would you stop with the werewolf crap!"

"It's true," he said. "Anyway, some of them think that you might be a killer. They're talking about a harbinger, but we're not really sure what that is. What if you're not the killer—"

"I'm not!"

"But you _find_ death, and that's why I caught your scent at the first body."

"My scent? _Bodies_? What the hell is going on around here?"

He ushered me away from the school. "That's what I'm trying to find out. Is there anyone in your house right now?"

I shook my head. "Dad got some temp work at the hospital, and Mam's at work for at least another two hours."

"Can I come over? I'll explain what I know, what I think I know, and then you can decide yourself what you believe."

I nodded. Partly because I just wanted somebody in town to talk to me. Partly because I could do with an explanation into my sleepwalking, no matter how absurd. And mostly because I was scared shitless of bumping into Victor alone.

We headed to my house in silence. Dorian seemed hyper vigilant, making me nervous that Victor was going to leap out of the nearest bush or something, but nothing happened on the way.

At my house, I made us a snack in my kitchen. We ate in silence while I debated whether I really wanted to know the truth about me. It had grown a lot scarier, but not knowing had to be worse.

When we had finished eating, I gave Dorian a meaningful look. "Go for it."

"No interruptions?"

I held out my hand. "Agreed."

He shook my hand. "All of us, my people, we're a pack. We're not all werewolves—there are siblings and parents and children of werewolves with us, too—but Byron is our leader, our alpha. We don't know much about other beings, but Nathan's sister is kind of like a witch. We have a long history, but her ancestor sort of cursed herself and her family, and it affected all werewolves for centuries. When Amelia was a teenager, she helped break that curse, but she took on her ancestor's burdens and power, too."

"Is she a werewolf?" I couldn't help asking, unable to imagine the woman turning furry. It sounded ridiculous.

"Yes," he said in a wary tone, hesitating as though waiting for me to keep interrupting or kick him out or something. "That spirit board from Halloween? That was hers. She has a kind of connection to things the rest of us don't."

"That's what you were all doing that day," I muttered. "Contacting the dead? You know everyone thinks you're in some kind of cult, right?"

"That's one of the kinder rumours. And if you keep interrupting, we'll be here 'til next Tuesday."

I held up my hands. "I'll save it for the end."

"So, yeah, she communicates with her ancestors. They're confusing, but she thinks a spirit tried to communicate with you on Halloween, that you're the harbinger it's looking for, but something went wrong. You turning up the day you fainted made that attempt go screwy, too."

I tried to process that, realised I couldn't, so just waited for him to continue.

"Aside from that, a wolf went missing from the pack, but the pack thought he chose to leave. Then another wolf disappeared. She turned up dead. I... found her body. It had been dug up from where she was hidden, and your scent was there. I think you find the dead when you sleepwalk, but for a reason. You helped me find Alex's body. Without you, the pack would have assumed she ran away. You helped, Margo."

I involuntarily shuddered. Digging up graves of murdered bodies didn't make me sound like a hero.

"Mara and Alex were close, and Mara knew she hadn't run away. When I found the body, Mara was upset, said she was going to figure out who killed Alex, and she wound up dead, too." His voice broke then. He took a moment to gather himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned by the pain in his eyes. He couldn't be lying. Nobody could fake that kind of grief. I'd never experienced anything like it, couldn't even imagine such depth of feeling.

He nodded, cleared his throat, then continued. "Your scent was all around Mara, too. There's a chance that you know something, deep in your subconscious, that part of your mind that sleepwalks. Maybe you don't, but it's possible you saw the killer somehow."

That shook me. While I was sleeping, I couldn't defend myself against an actual murderer. "What does this have to do with the spirit?"

"Well, we don't really know if the spirit has something to do with the murders or not. My pack is mad with grief, and some of them think you have something to do with what happened. You're connected, but not in the way they think. The spirits told Amelia that the harbinger has to bring peace, so it makes sense that you're the harbinger, right? I mean, you're the only new element in the equation."

I leaned back in my seat. "Your voice goes funny whenever you say the word, 'harbinger,' so what does it mean to you?"

He looked down at his hands. "It's just... from what I heard as a kid, harbingers are scary, enemies of the wolves, so that's a whole new level of concern about you. I've seen you in the woods. I know you're not a murderer, but it's like you're drawn to death. And if somebody else is murdered, and you show up, you could wind up dead, too."

"I don't know what to think," I whispered.

He met my gaze then. "About harbingers or werewolves?"

I wasn't sure if me being attracted to death was any less freaky than boys being able to turn into animals. "Both?" A shiver ran through me. "I've always felt different, abnormal even, but I suppose I figured if doctors were giving me medicine, then there was an explanation for what was happening to me. Do you think there's a pill _you_ can take?"

He sat back in his seat, an odd look on his face. "Margo, I wouldn't take it, even if I could."

That surprised me. "You like it?"

"We are who we are," he said. "We just have to accept ourselves and hope we meet people who can get past it, too."

Something triggered in my brain. "Wait a second. All this time, you've known I was weird? Is that why Mara and Victor were so protective over you at Halloween?"

He tried to smile. "More like they were trying to protect our secret. It's not something we tell people very often, so... being with you wouldn't end well in their minds. Even then... it's not easy being around the pack. Do you believe in me now?"

"It's hard to wrap my head around any of this. I'm not sure I can let myself believe in _me_."

"Your sleepwalking is what we need to figure out next. I'm wondering if you needed the bodies to be found, or maybe, maybe you do something with their souls."

"That's just going way overboard." I made a face. "Besides, if I was led to death, then why aren't I finding every dead mouse in the country?"

"Maybe you need a link to the person. The first time I caught your scent was at a dead rabbit I'd hunted—after we'd met. You found your neighbour's dog because you knew the animal. You're connected to the pack now, so you were at Mara's—"

"This is creeping me out," I said, breathing heavily. "Are you telling me that every time I sleepwalk, I wind up next to a dead body?"

"Maybe. Or a possible dead body. I mean, you made it to Emma before anything terrible could happen." He reached across the table and took my hand. "I'm really a werewolf, Margo. I can shift and show you if you like."

"No, thank you," I said weakly. The boy genuinely believed he was a werewolf. And when he spoke about me being drawn to death, it felt so right that I couldn't discount it. Emma could have died, but something about me had given Dorian enough warning to save her. I'd spent my entire life feeling weird. Maybe I wanted to feel special for a change.

"The pack is angry with you," he said. "But mostly they're angry that they couldn't protect their own. We've lost two female wolves. That's important in so many ways. There aren't many females. Almost all of them are in town, actually. And the ones we've lost were dominant."

"What's the significance?" I asked, interested in spite of myself.

"Well, the most dominant wolf becomes alpha. One day, Byron will be replaced. There's a lot of competition. Anyone with sense knows that Nathan will take over, but his cousin is Byron's son."

"I can't imagine Byron as some bossy alpha werewolf," I said, unable to resist the urge to giggle hysterically.

"It's not like you see on television. And he's not like most of us." He squeezed my hand. "He's told the pack to stay away from you. They'll obey, but if they see you..."

"They might lose control." I pulled my hand out of his, finding it hard to breathe again. "So I'm in trouble, even if I'm completely innocent. I wouldn't have believed you, but Victor... he wasn't human today."

"He's not as big and bad as he likes to make himself out to be," he said reassuringly. "He's just upset that some people are looking at him like he might be involved because he argued with Mara the morning she went missing. He's not the most dangerous wolf out there."

That had the opposite effect. "There's worse? I've never been so scared in my life."

He knelt at my feet, his arms reaching around my waist. "I'll do whatever I can to protect you."

"Why?" I asked. "Why are you even helping me? Couldn't you get hurt if you get between me and your pack?"

"Maybe." He looked away. "But I think you might be able to help us find the killer."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He met my gaze, his cheeks flooded with colour. "But it's not the only reason, Margo. I've been breaking all of the rules for you. I like you a lot." And then he kissed me. And I totally let him.

# Chapter 26

Dorian

* * *

I walked home on a cloud. She knew what I was, knew all of the madness—maybe thought I was insane or a furry—and still let me kiss her. And I was more sure than ever I was making the right choices. The pack didn't understand. They couldn't yet. But Margo wasn't a killer. She had no idea of her heritage, but she hadn't seemed unwilling to help. She had stopped Emma's death. That made her a good person.

The more I thought it over, the more my theory made sense. Margo was a warning signal, and if we could trigger her talents, maybe we could find the killer before he took down yet another werewolf.

Before I reached the houses, I noticed the pack waiting at the gates, or at least, a group of them, led by Victor. Mostly the younger crowd, none of whom were particularly loyal to Byron. It was then I realised that he had let too many things slide. They were out of control. One more death, and _he_ would be next.

I froze to the spot, unsure of what to do. If I ran, that might trigger their hunting instincts. If I kept going, I would walk right into a beating, at the very least. And if they started, could they stop?

"Dorian!" Victor shouted. The group parted, and he moved to the forefront, the leader. Mara would never have let that happen. Could _he_ be the killer?

Beyond the group, most of the cars were missing from the driveway. Something else had happened. If I wasn't careful, I'd be the next dead body.

The group began to approach—stalk me, more like—and I took a step back, trying to figure out if there was a way to reason with them. Too late, I realised there wasn't.

"Did you help her?" Victor called out. "Tell her more of our secrets?"

"Traitor," somebody shouted.

Victor grinned, his lips curling back to reveal teeth that had already lengthened.

"I'm not," I protested, but it didn't matter what I said. They wanted to rip the murderer apart; I would do instead. I had let them use me to blow off steam too many times. This was the consequence.

I did a brief mental calculation of the best path to take while I ran, the one that would cause the least damage, but before they started to run, Dominic came out of nowhere, leaping over the wall to face them. He said something, his arms raised out, and they hesitated, Victor grudgingly.

"Back up," Dom commanded, letting his dominance colour his words. I shivered at the power there. I hadn't noticed how much of it he had. "Dorian is one of you. Let him say his piece before the alpha who will be the only one to judge him. Now get back inside before somebody sees you acting like a pack of animals without any brains."

He waited for them to move on a little before turning to me.

"Run," he said urgently.

I took a step back. "What?"

"The police have taken Byron and Nathan in for questioning. Somebody found a bloody hoodie belonging to Mara. It's going to get bad here. Without Byron to control them, they'll take out their anger on you. They will rip you apart if you don't run, and when Byron and Nathan find out you've been protecting the killer—"

"Margo's not a killer." If Nathan turned on me, I would die on the spot. Margo couldn't be the killer. I couldn't have lost everything for nothing.

"All we know is that you protected an outsider over one of your own. Think about it, Dorian. Loyalty reigns supreme here. Go. Get out of town. Listen, this girl couldn't have killed Mara and Alex, but that just means a wolf did. Who's benefiting from that now? The likes of Victor. You need to go before he turns on you. The alpha has enough to deal with."

How could I leave? "What about Perdita?"

"You'll only put her at risk. Imagine if she tries to stop Victor and his buddies from attacking you while they're in this state? They'll make mistakes they can't take back. Keep away from Perdita Rivers before you get her killed. You know how that will turn out for Nathan. I'm depending on you, Dorian. When things have calmed down, I'll find you, but don't return before then." He squeezed my shoulder. "Okay?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"I'm sorry," he said grimly. "It's too late to do anything but run."

I wanted to cry, but instead, I nodded and slunk away. I had a feeling Dominic would never come to find me. I looked over my shoulder. He was with the others already. He had given me a chance to run. He might not be able to afford me a second.

So I ran, straight to Margo. If I was in danger, she was, too, and I still had to convince her to help me find the killer. I needed a big win to regain my place in the pack. It was the only way. Without them, I was nothing. And Margo wasn't safe until we proved her innocence, and we couldn't do that in town when half the pack wanted our blood.

It was time to take things into our own hands. The pack couldn't save us, but if I could help Margo figure out how to control her sleepwalking, then maybe we could save them.

# Chapter 27

Margo

* * *

I hefted my bag over my shoulder. "Are you sure they won't hurt my parents?"

"Your parents will be fine." Dorian shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the train timetable. "Train should be here soon."

Dorian had come to my house with a look in his eyes that had frightened me, telling me that the pack wanted us dead, and nobody was able to protect us. I didn't know who I was more scared for—him or me. And no matter what crazy things he believed in, I agreed with him that Victor was someone best to avoid. Between Victor and the fact my sleepwalking was out of control, running away felt like my only option—the best way to protect my parents from _me_. Even if Dorian was actually bat-shit crazy, I felt safer around him since he'd protected me from Victor's terrifying rage. Who would protect my parents from _that_?

Dorian nudged me. "Seriously, Margo, we're the problem, not your parents. The others will be too busy looking for us."

"What if they find us?"

"They won't. Are you sure your parents won't find us?"

"They might, but who cares if they leave town? It might be for the best if they come looking for me." I shivered. "I just want to go home, Dorian. Away from Dublin. We might have a place to stay there. You know, where an entire community isn't trying to kill us."

"Not the entire community." He took my hand and held it in his pocket. "Just the really angry ones."

"Maybe I'll laugh about it when this is all over, but in the meantime, thank you. For everything." I squeezed his hand. "I know it was hard for you to stand up to Victor."

"Actually, it wasn't." He sounded surprised. "I didn't even think about it."

"So that's your problem. Thinking too much."

He managed a weak smile. He kept looking around us, his stance defensive. Relief crossed his face. "Here's the train. No turning back now."

I couldn't even hear the train, but shortly afterward, it pulled into the station. When the train stopped, we got on and found an empty carriage. I sat next to Dorian, our knees touching under the table. I was still unsure on the whole werewolf thing, but I liked having Dorian around, and I felt far braver on a train heading out of Dublin.

If going back to my old village was what it took to keep us both safe, then we had to try. Maybe it would have been better to go to the police—unless my sleepwalking happened to come up and make me look mentally unstable somehow. I wasn't sure of much anymore.

"If they hurt us, they'd draw attention to themselves," I said as the train pulled from the station. I had been holding my breath, waiting for somebody to come rushing into the station to stop us. Running away wasn't usually my thing, but Victor was a nasty piece of work, and he had a lot of friends. "They wouldn't get away with _that_." Without thinking, I touched the minor puncture wounds on my neck.

Dorian reached out to stop me then dropped his hand. "Try not to hate them, Margo. You don't understand how they feel right now. They're in a bad way. Protection and loyalty are important to us, and we couldn't protect our own. Most of the pack don't even know the whole story because the alpha's trying to flush out the killer, but they won't stop to check the facts right now. It hurts too much."

The pain in his voice hit me in the chest. "It hurts you, too."

"It feels like a noose around my neck. Eric and Alex were bad enough, but Mara?" His voice broke on her name. "She was my best friend in the pack."

"I'm so sorry." I laid my hand on his thigh. "I know you were close. I didn't know her very well, but I liked her. I still can't believe this happened to her. It doesn't feel real."

"Feels too real to me." He drew me against him and sighed against my hair. "I have a terrible feeling. I think someone is trying to take over the pack, or maybe even destroy it. Byron and Nathan have been taken by the police because Mara's top was found with blood on it. But it had to be found somewhere connected to the Evans family for them to be on the radar of the police, right?"

"You think the killer placed the hoodie somewhere it would be found?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Amelia said the spirit we released at Halloween must be stuck to the killer, but nobody's acting possessed. The spirit reached into lots of us, but you're the one it wanted. So what if the killer was just waiting for their chance to disrupt the pack, and this spirit crap became their perfect opportunity?" He shook his head. "Except Eric's been gone longer than that—unless he's the one doing this, but he was so happy with the pack. He couldn't have faked that. I just... don't understand any of this."

"You blame yourself," I said, realising why he sounded so upset. "You think you could have stopped this."

"Couldn't I? I could have told somebody about the spirit board, stopped everyone from using it. But I took part because I'm a pathetic submissive wolf, and now people are dead."

"You're not pathetic, and it isn't your fault. If we're going to start the blaming game, I'm the one who found the spirit board, and I said nothing when Emma took it. But we didn't kill anyone, Dorian."

"It doesn't matter. The pack hates me." He looked miserable. "I don't have anything else. I've no family, nowhere to go."

"They wouldn't just kick you out," I said. "They wouldn't give you their name and then dump you."

"Why not?" he said. "I make a terrible werewolf. I'm not dominant. I don't care about being in charge. I'm not particularly strong or fast. I'm the runt, the coward. Even if I didn't screw this up, there's still not enough room for all of us. Byron has no choice but to move some of us out of there. There'll always be younger wolves in need of his help. There's no place for me. What do I bring to the pack that makes me worth keeping around?"

"You were brave enough to stand up to them," I said. "That's the hardest thing you can do."

He smiled. "You don't have a problem standing up to people."

"That's because I don't know them very well. If my parents had found me before we left and told me to stay behind, I wouldn't be sitting on this train right now."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"Tonight, I'll turn on my phone and send them a message letting them know I'm okay. Then I'll turn my phone back off."

"They'll worry."

"I know." And I felt guilty about that. "But at least they'll be safe from me. We can't do this forever though, so what happens when we have to go back?"

"Pray that they've caught the real killer by then."

"Let's hope it's soon." I moved away from him, grabbing my bag to take my medication.

"You should stop taking those." Dorian frowned at the pill bottle as though it had offended him. "They're stopping you from whatever it is you do."

"I don't want to wake up next to a dead body," I said, a little too hotly. "Not only has it gotten us into this mess, but I can't handle not being in control of my own body. Waking up and not knowing where I was or what I did is my idea of a nightmare."

"It's your choice." He picked up the bottle and read the description. "But do me a favour and at least think about it. It could help us find the killer. I'm with you. I'll watch you, follow you, see what you do, and then we'll have proof that you're innocent. Even better, proof of who is really responsible."

"And if nobody believes you? If I really am the killer?" I shivered. "What if this medicine is just keeping the world safe from me?"

He set down the bottle to take my hands into his. "These hands haven't killed anyone. I'm sure of it."

I wished I could be as sure of myself as Dorian. I took my medicine because I didn't have the same confidence in myself. I saw the disappointment in his eyes as I swallowed the pill, but I wasn't brave enough to answer all of the questions yet.

"I feel like a stalker," Dorian whispered from where we had hidden behind some bushes.

"I don't want to be seen by her parents," I whispered back. "I just need to see a friendly face. And she might help us, give us the keys to her grandmother's cottage."

"And if she doesn't?"

My throat tightened, but I ignored it. "Then we'll be breaking and entering."

I wasn't entirely sure why I had travelled all the way back to the place I had originally run from. I thought it would feel like home, but stepping off the train had been unsettling. There was something unfamiliar about everything. Nothing was the same, I didn't belong anymore, and the old feelings of dread and anxiety I had conveniently forgotten started to bloom all over again.

Even more surprising was the fact I actually missed Dublin, and how it had become the place that felt like home now. I'd finally found acceptance there. My childhood village just couldn't do that for me. The thought of how close I'd come to never meeting Dorian, never knowing what it was like to just be _me_ around someone, made me catch my breath.

"Don't be scared," he said. "I can hear your heart race."

"Shush," I whispered. "They're coming out now."

"Good. Even I'm freezing here."

Except I'd been the one huddling closer to him for his warmth.

I watched the group come out of the community centre after choir practice, happy and full of chatter. Something inside me still longed to be a part of it, to belong, but those people had abandoned me in my time of need. Dorian hadn't.

On a whim, I kissed his cheek. "Never mind," I said when he shot me a questioning look.

We waited patiently for the gossiping to end so everyone would go home. Thankfully, my old best friend made her way toward home alone. When she passed the bushes we were hiding behind, I jumped out and clamped my hand over her mouth before she could scream.

Her eyes bulged until she recognised me. I let go. "Hey."

_"Jesus_ ," she cried. "What the hell are you doing? You scared me!"

"I had to see you, Eva. Did you miss me?" I held out my arms to hug her, but she shivered and took a step back. Dorian's words about me echoed in my head. Could it be true that I actually repelled people? Or did she still believe in the rumours about me?

"I haven't seen you in ages." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at Dorian. "Who's this?"

"A friend. Listen, I need your help." I took a step forward. She took a step back. That stung. "We used to be friends. _Best_ friends."

Dorian laid a hand on my shoulder. "We need a place to stay for a few nights. Can you help or not?"

She was going to say no. A lump formed in my throat. "I was there for you through everything. Always. I never did a thing to you to make you treat me like this."

"Everybody thinks I'm like you now!" I flinched at her words, and a fleeting look of regret crossed her face. "One night. That's it."

"And you won't tell anyone you saw us?"

"I have to live here, Margo. I can't just move away, so no, I'm not planning on telling anyone I spoke to you, never mind helped you. Just... head over to the cottage. I'll go home and take the key and bring it to you." She walked around us, giving us a wide berth.

"That was intense." Dorian watched her leave. "Do you trust her?"

"I used to. Don't have much of a choice now. Besides, if she rats us out, you'll hear anyone coming, right?" I cast one last look after Eva then shivered. "Come on. Watch your step. It gets dark out here."

He smirked. "Werewolf vision, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. It'll take her at least an hour to get home and back to the cottage. We might as well go there now and hang around outside. We're less likely to be seen."

The local shop had already closed up for the day, so we headed to the cottage with a couple of sandwiches we had bought at the train station.

"It's gonna be a cold night," I commented.

"You don't seem concerned."

"At least we're safe here."

"Sorry."

I looked at him in surprise.

"Sorry that you had to leave here," he clarified.

" _I'm_ not, not anymore. That thing you said about me putting people off. That happened back there, didn't it? With Eva, I mean."

"Maybe," he said. "And maybe you could learn to control it."

"Harbinger means omen, Dorian. That sounds bad. Think it's hereditary? I mean, do you think my biological mother was like me? Or do you think she got rid of me because I'm like this."

"How could she tell you'd grow up like this unless she knew about this stuff? Besides, your parents know that you sleepwalk and stuff, and they don't care, right?"

"I wonder if there's anything they're keeping from me," I said slowly. "I should have talked to them before I left."

"We didn't have time."

"I know. We had to leave. What else could we do?" I glanced at him in the darkness. He hadn't fumbled once. I was used to the way, and I had. "You're really a werewolf? You're not mental or joking or showing off?"

"You sound like you're hoping I'm mental," he said drily. "What I've told you is true, and if you want, I'll prove it to you."

I stared at my feet as we walked. I wanted to believe I wasn't the only one who was weird. I wanted to feel less alone. But if I believed in him, then I'd have to believe what he thought about me, and I wasn't entirely ready for that. "I don't think Ms. Rivers would let them hurt you."

"She wouldn't, but then she could get in the way." He sounded pained. "I can't let her get hurt. Not after everything she's done for me. I've never had anyone who wanted me around, Margo. Nathan and Perdita... they didn't have to look after me, but they did. They were young, full of plans they gave up, for me. And this is how I pay them back. With trouble."

"You could call them. Maybe they could calm the others down."

"I _can't_ ," he said plaintively. "I turned my back on them. If they didn't hate me before, they probably do now."

"Because of me?"

"Not just you. Everything's complicated," he said. "It's instinct more than a decision. You're a good person. I know you are, but I chose you over the pack. Some people will never forgive me for that, so it's best I don't force Perdita and Nathan to get in the middle. It would be easier for them if I just disappeared."

His voice cracked, and a pang struck my heart. I couldn't bring myself to believe the people who cared for him would rather if he wasn't around.

The further we moved from the village, the darker it became. Even the stars were barely visible, covered by cloud. Without light to guide me, I ended up relying on Dorian's sure step to stay on my feet. I'd half-forgotten how dark it could get, and I wasn't sure I liked it.

"Well, here we are." _Here_ was an old cottage in the middle of nowhere. There was no electricity, but little chance we'd be discovered either.

Dorian peeked through a window. "I think there's a blanket on the bed. That's something, right?"

"There should be candles. If we're lucky, we'll find an old stash of sweets." I smiled. "When Eva's gran went to live with her, we used to come out here. It was kind of like a really awesome treehouse."

"Except on the ground."

"Hey, nothing's perfect."

"Sounds like you had fun," he said wistfully.

"You really never had fun?"

He released a soft snort through his nose. "I didn't know fun existed until I lived with Nathan and Perdita. And now I'm leaving them behind."

He sounded heartbroken. I could maybe help him if I stopped taking my pills and let nature take its course, but I'd have to give up control of my own body. I'd have to go all in with the one thing I'd been trying to stop my entire life.

"You're not leaving them behind," I said decidedly. "If they're good people, they won't freeze you out, no matter what."

"I'm more worried about the punishment for running away," he said, but at least he sounded amused and light-hearted again. "I hear something. A bicycle, I think."

"That's Eva," I whispered. "But hide, just in case."

A couple of minutes later, I heard someone call my name softly.

"I'm here," I said, stepping out of the shadows and scaring Eva all over again.

"I have the key," she said when she recovered. "And I brought a flask of hot water, a lighter, and as much food as I could carry. The electricity's cut off from the main line, but the water should still be running through the well because the pump's set up to the old generator. If you're lucky, you might find something to light the fire with in the shed out back. Try not to leave a mess." She hesitated. "Leave the key on the fireplace. I'll come lock up tomorrow after you're gone."

That was a dismissal if ever I heard one. Dorian took the things from Eva. She handed me the key, looking ill when she brushed off my fingertips. "Goodbye, Margo."

"Eva," I called out as she left. She hesitated, her shoulders hunched over as though in dread. She used to be my best friend, and now she couldn't stand to be around me. "Thank you. I've missed you."

She kept going, but she waved as she cycled off. With a little shiver of my own, I unlocked the door and immediately set to work lighting any candles I found.

Dorian prepared a fire in the hearth with some leftover pieces of old wood and coal, and soon, the living room looked almost cosy. There were no chairs anymore, so I grabbed the blankets from the bedroom and arranged them in front of the fire. "Might as well be warm, and these are new enough to make me think Eva's been coming out here herself on occasion," I said lightly, but I was only starting to think about the fact we had to spend the night together, alone.

"Calm down," Dorian said, sorting through the food.

I sat on a blanket and held my hands out to the fire to warm them. "I am calm."

"I can hear your heart racing from here." He shot me a wry look. "I'm not going to do anything to do you."

"It's not that." I hesitated. "Maybe a tiny bit that. It's just weird, being here with you. I mean, we barely know each other. Of course, everything is weird with us," I babbled. "You're a werewolf, allegedly, and I'm some kind of death magnet."

He laughed as he pulled some teabags and a half-full carton of milk from the bag. "Just relax. I'll make us some tea to warm us up, and you can text or call your parents."

"I can't call them, but I'll send them a message letting them know I'm okay. It might freak them out even more to know that you're with me though."

"Don't worry about me. I won't rat you out." He sighed. "We should eat then get some sleep. Who knows where we'll end up tomorrow?"

He looked miserable, and I knew he was thinking about his guardians again. I was starting to wish we hadn't left town at all, but I was still afraid of not being strong enough to face the truth about myself. If harbinger meant omen, and I stopped trying to subdue the way I'd been born, then could I really find death before it happened? Was I the warning or the one who caused death to happen?

We lay in front of the fire, facing each other, but I still felt cold. Things were odd between us. We'd kissed a couple of times, fought a couple of times, only to run away together. But we weren't _together_. Yet I was more comfortable around him than the girl I'd been best friends with for most of my life.

"Eva couldn't bear to touch me." I held his gaze. "You were right about people keeping their distance from me. It makes so much sense when I think about it now."

"She hasn't seen you in a while, so she's not used to you anymore. And maybe it gets worse when you're stressed out."

"Why do you say that?"

He grinned. "Because it's gotten worse."

"Oh." I tried to move back.

He laid a hand on my waist to stop me from retreating. "I can handle the cold."

"I didn't take my medicine this evening. So that means..."

"I'll watch over you." He traced his hand across my cheek. "I won't let you wake up alone somewhere. I promise." He kissed me softly then pulled back, giving me space. I wasn't sure what I was comfortable with anyway.

I played with a button on his shirt to avoid his eyes. "That day you came to my house, I had just woken up in my backyard, covered in dirt."

"Dirt," he said. "But not blood."

"Not blood," I agreed. "But I was terrified. And then you came along telling me all of these crazy things."

"That you still don't really believe."

"I'm starting to think I'm in a psych ward, trapped in a delusion. How can any of this be real? Do you know what the people in town think of your family and the rest?"

He touched my chin. "What do _you_ think?"

I met his gaze then, warmed by the softness. Being around Dorian made me happy and comfortable, made me forget that I had trouble connecting with people. "I don't think you're bad people, at least, not you and your family. I mean, they took in a child who had nobody. Why would they do that if they were into something illegal and dangerous?"

"I think maybe they were trying to fix the past, to prove they were better than what came before, that there was hope for us all to be a part of a single community." He bit on his lower lip as he gathered his thoughts. "At the time, they were new at this. The pack stuff. For generations, Nathan's family kept as far away from the rest of the werewolves as possible. And the other leader, the mad alpha, he pursued them. He didn't want competition, but mostly he was obsessed. When they moved here, Nathan met Perdita, and he knew she was his true mate, but the mad alpha sent people here to get rid of Amelia _and_ Perdita to weaken the family. One of the wolves sent here, Ryan, was only working for that alpha because he'd kidnapped Ryan's daughters."

"All girls targeted," I said indignantly.

"Yeah," he said. "That's why losing Alex and Mara is such a big deal. It's a reminder of those times. Secretly, Ryan helped my—the family, and Byron took over, decided to take care of the rest of the wolves rather than fight them. Both sides had to get over the losses they'd suffered. And then Byron had to actually find all of the werewolves and keep an eye on all of the children with the potential to shift. Nathan's sister checks on the those children when they reach their teens to prepare them, then helps them through their first shift when it comes time for that. If they shift, they become pack. If not, they get to move on with their lives, but they have to make sure Byron knows about any children they might have—just in case."

"Is he really responsible for _all_ of them?"

"Sort of? He feels responsible, but he gives people a choice to follow him. Most agree eventually. It's easier to let somebody else take charge, makes us feel whole to be a part of a pack. It's hard to explain. We just don't do well alone, and Byron wanted everyone to have the same advantages. He wants to end the old ways completely."

"How does he even know what children to look for?"

"Bloodlines, mostly. Rumours sometimes. A lot of luck. I wasn't the only one living in a shack in the middle of nowhere. The mad alpha put a value on his people. If they weren't strong, couldn't produce wolves, they were worthless, and if they were too strong, they were a threat that had to be wiped out. People secreted away their children, just in case. If they shifted at sixteen, not too strong or weak, they were presented to the alpha. Most didn't and were forgotten about. Some were reunited under Byron, but most of the parents were probably long dead."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be. I don't really think about what happened before Nathan came along. The point is that Byron gathered people like me together to end a cycle of violence."

"But if they didn't know you were actually a wolf, then why did they take you with them when they found you? They don't take every child into their home."

His eyes grew shiny with emotion. He took a moment before clearing his throat. "Some people think dominant means strong or bossy, but I think it means protector. The ones like Nathan are compelled to protect those around them, especially the vulnerable. When the mad alpha was around, he made Nathan and Byron feel as though they couldn't protect the people they loved. That leaves a hole. I get that now. And I think, deep down, Nathan saw a way to rewrite that history with me. His sister is an omega. Without her, there's no true peace or balance, and he thought maybe I was the same, but really, he was probably just sensing the wolf in me, saw that I needed to be protected."

"Is that how you feel about Mara?" I asked. "That you couldn't protect her?"

"Mara had such a crappy life. She didn't deserve this. I should never have left her alone." He sighed heavily. "She would be so mad at me for thinking about protecting her. She wanted to protect _me_. I wanted to take you out of town to stop another mistake from happening, but now I've just left Nathan and Perdita to deal with this alone. What if that's another mistake?"

His pain was so obvious that I desperately wanted to make him feel better. I just didn't know how. "Do you think they'll be angry with you?" I hesitated. "Maybe they'll be happy you're safe."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before answering. "I don't know. Perdita would understand. I think you remind her of her past. She was just a girl who got sucked into this life, like you. Out of everyone, she'd get that I was trying to keep you safe. If anything, she's the one who's been softening the punishments for us teens in the pack. She and Byron are close, and he listens to her. He's not just trying to make us fit into a pack. He's trying to help us grow into people who could survive alone in the real world. The others don't see that sometimes. It's hard for everyone. Bad enough trying to integrate near-feral werewolves into society, but then, to make things even more confusing, once Byron took over, teenagers began shifting for the first time in huge numbers. Nature's way of rebalancing, we think."

"Why teenagers though?" I asked curiously, despite myself.

"Something hormonal maybe," he said. "Except me. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel the wolf with me. I wouldn't have survived those days without the wolf, but I wouldn't have survived the mad alpha either, so I kept my secret."

"You sound so disconnected from it though."

A frown creased the space between his eyebrows. "Sometimes it feels like it happened to somebody else. Or it was a bad dream." Then he focused on me. "Why even ask these questions if you don't really believe me, Margo?"

"I want to believe you," I whispered. "But it's terrifying, too. If I believe you, I have to believe _everything_."

"You can't be scared of who you are. It makes you special."

Or it made me dangerous.

"Can I show you what I am?" he asked. "Would that help?"

"I'm not sure."

"It would be warmer for you," he said. "All that fur and all."

I was torn between fear of finding out he was lying and fear he was telling the truth. I desperately wanted to trust him, needed to know if the possible could be real. But if we opened that door, we couldn't close it again.

"Don't be scared." But he looked scared, too. "I won't hurt you."

That, I believed. "Okay. I... I want to know."

He stood, and I realised he was trembling, but he peeled off his shirt without a second thought. His lean body was surprisingly sinewy because in his baggy clothes that hung off him, he looked kind of scrawny. I sat up and inched back, unsure of what I wanted the outcome to be.

I covered my face to give him some privacy as he unbuckled his belt.

"You can look if you want," he said teasingly. "I don't care."

He seemed entirely unconcerned by the nudity, so I peeked a little, my heart racing as his shoulders jerked as though trying to push through his skin. Horror swept through me as his collar bone appeared to snap out of place. He reached a hand toward it, his fingers actually lengthening before my eyes, and I squeaked, unable to form a coherent thought.

Dorian tried to say something, but his voice was hoarse and impossible to understand. I looked at him, at the eyes that didn't change, and tried to keep watching through the panic, but then his body contorted into terrifyingly impossible positions. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to stop shaking. It was happening. It was real. Neither of us was crazy. And if a werewolf was true, then that meant... I wasn't human either.

My breathing grew heavier with each snap and crack. Dorian withstood the rest of the shift in silence, but tears had begun to roll down my cheeks. It sounded so painful, and he'd gone through it as a child. Gone through it alone.

A wet nose nudged my hand. I gasped, opened my eyes, and suddenly found it harder to breathe. My breath came out in odd, panicked sounds until Dorian rested a heavy chin on my knee. The sensation brought me back into the real world, made me calm ever so slightly, and I tried my hardest to make my brain understand what I was seeing.

Dorian was a brunette wolf, but he looked more like a gigantic dog. He was broader than a wolf, and when I reached out to touch him, I found that his fur was ridiculously thick and heavy, curled in many places. He was likely a lot smaller than he appeared with all of that shaggy hair, but still absolutely enormous. His legs were long and thin, and his eyes were still Dorian's, soft and kind.

"It's still you," I whispered, unsure what I'd even been expecting. I supposed I hadn't let my mind take it that far.

His ears pricked up, making his appearance all the softer, more like a friendly dog.

I stared at him for a moment. He hadn't lied. "This is real," I said, the room eerily quiet bar the crackling of the fire. "And if this is real... I find the dead, Dorian."

He whimpered as though in sympathy. I sank both hands into his fur, and he licked the tip of my nose.

He stood then, and I let out another gasp of alarm. He was massive. He immediately lay in front of the fire and curled up, his tail over his nose, trying to make himself look smaller. I crept over to him, reaching out to touch him. There was nothing intimidating about him bar his size. I doubted I could say the same about the others, especially Victor.

Once I got used to him, I slowly lay next to Dorian, and he repositioned, his body managing to touch all of mine. I held on tight to a living fur blanket that somehow made me feel secure, trying to come to terms with everything. I didn't think less of Dorian because of his secret—and he certainly wasn't judging me for mine. It was time to accept myself.

So I lay there next to a giant wolf, inhaling the scent of earth from him, a fire warming the hearth, and as the pieces slowly slotted together, I finally felt like myself again. I had answers to my questions at last. The truth might not have seemed impossible, but at least now I knew exactly what it was—and that I could trust him. He had been brave enough to show me his true self, and I had to find a way to be brave enough to purposely show mine.

Dorian might as well have been a hot water bottle because I didn't shiver again that night.

# Chapter 28

Dorian

* * *

"I think we need to go back," Margo said hesitantly the next morning.

Relief flooded through me. After a comfortable night next to her, away from the confusing panic and grief of the pack, I had woken her as a boy, filled with the need to go back home, to my pack, to Nathan and Perdita. Running away wouldn't help find the murderer. Distance had given me the clarity to see that while the pack might have given up on me, I wasn't ready to give up on them yet.

"Me, too," I said, relieved. "And you're okay with everything?"

"I'm trying to be. I was thinking about what you said." She looked determined now. "I shouldn't take any more of that medicine. It just confuses things. I think, if you stick by my side, we might be able to find the killer. If we just keep trying, eventually, he or she will slip up. Maybe you'll catch their scent or something. You can do that, right?"

"I can, but when I found Alex, it was in a place that's pretty high traffic. The scents were too confusing. Yours was the only one that stood out, but that's because you weren't supposed to be there. And there was some kind of chemical scent that almost hid the body—if it hadn't been for you leaving me hints while you were sleepwalking, I don't think I would have found her body. Maybe the killer's been using that to their advantage."

"What about Mara?" She winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," I said firmly. "I need to deal with it to find out what happened to her. I owe it to her not to fall apart until this is all over. I'm not going to fail her again." I inhaled sharply. "Mara wasn't buried. No chemical smell to hide her scent. Whoever did it wanted her to be found, maybe to cause more confusion or disruption. To really unsettle everyone."

"So it has to be somebody in your pack," she said. "Somebody who knows about werewolves and what would trigger them."

"Right, but who? I've thought of Victor and half the crowd so far, but nobody's been acting weird."

"That just means they were always like this," she said, sending a chill down my spine. "They haven't changed; they've just been hiding their true selves all along. What if the spirit kept coming after me because it wanted me to see what was happening? What if it thought I could help tell you all about the killer?"

"Then who is the spirit?" I asked. "Why not communicate with Amelia instead of you?"

"Maybe it was confused."

"If it really did attach itself to someone in the pack, maybe you could figure it out," I said. "Maybe you would know just by being in their presence."

"I like to think I'm a little brave, but I can't imagine standing in the middle of the pack and pointing out whodunit." She heaved out a sigh. "But we have to do _something_ before somebody else gets hurt. Are we safe if we go home?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I need to talk to Nathan."

"So call him." She squeezed my hand. "Or better still, call Ms. Rivers at the school. If she's anything like my dad, she'll be mad but happy you're okay. I mean, she's normal, right? She won't let pack instincts interfere with her morals."

That made sense. She wasn't led by the darkness in every wolf. We were weakened by it when we thought it made us stronger. That had to end.

Perdita wasn't at school, so I called her mobile phone. The relief in her voice when she heard mine was like a balm to my soul.

"Dorian, I've been so worried. We thought you were dead." Her voice hitched. "I was so scared we'd lost you, too. Nathan's been going out of his mind. I've been terrified he would lose control. Is Margo with you? Her parents have been looking for her. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, we're both fine. I didn't want to leave you, Perdita, I swear, but Dominic told me to run," I said, my voice thickening with emotion. "He said the pack were going to rip me apart, to keep away from you in case you got hurt. So I took Margo, just in case they went after her."

"Wait. Dominic said that?" Her voice had turned cold. "Nathan would _never_ let that happen."

"Nathan wasn't there. And even if he was, what if he got hurt trying to protect me? You'd never forgive me. And if you got hurt, he'd never be able to look at me again."

"Why are you talking like this? Dorian, we love you. We just want you home."

"What if Nathan can't stop them when they come after me?" I asked. "What if this is what rips the pack apart, and it's all my fault? I can't do that to everyone, but I want to help find the killer."

She hesitated, and when she spoke, I thought she might be crying. "I have an idea. Come to my dad's house. Meet me there. I'll say I need space, that I'm scared, so I'm going to stay with my family. The pack won't go near the place. They're sticking to home; Byron's making them."

A lump formed in my throat at the thought of her being upset. "I thought Nathan and Byron were arrested."

"That's _not_ what happened. I promise you, they're both safe and well. I'll talk to Nathan, but tell Margo to call her parents. Byron's been out searching for her with them. They thought she'd been abducted until we realised you were missing, too. If they hear her voice, they can stop worrying, so tell her to call them."

"I will," I promised. "I want to come home. We both do, but we're scared of what will happen."

"Nothing's going to happen," she said firmly. "There's just been some kind of misunderstanding."

"You didn't see them," I said. "Victor attacked Margo—I had to fight him off her—and then Dominic stopped him and the others from tearing me apart. They didn't care anymore. They just needed to hurt somebody."

"I'm so sorry you went through that," she said. "I'll meet you, drive you to my dad's."

"At the train station then," I said, relieved. "Margo will be with me."

"I'll have her parents meet us there."

"No," I said. "We need to talk about things, about us, the kinds of secrets we have."

"Her parents have the right to know what's going on. Trust me. It's easier when everybody knows the truth."

"Then let Margo tell them in her own time. Just let us talk to you first. We have an idea about what's going on. We think..." I glanced at Margo who nodded. "We think we might be able to figure this out together."

Two hours later, Margo and I were on a train headed for home. No matter what was waiting for us, it was better to face it head-on than run and let it hang over our heads.

"Hey." Margo reached for my hand. "Are you worried?"

"Not as much," I admitted. "Yesterday, things seemed pretty desperate. It's weird how fast that changed."

"Yeah, I mean, yesterday I still wasn't sure if I believed in werewolves." She smiled shyly. "Until I saw one."

"I thought you would have freaked out a lot more. I wouldn't recommend hugging every werewolf you meet."

"I wasn't planning on it." Her eyebrows pulled together. "You said that Byron Evans is pretty much the boss of you, right? But how exactly did he get the job?"

I leaned back in my seat, happy for the distraction. "It's kind of a long story. His father was the head of the family, while everyone else was under the mad alpha I told you about. He was the one who wanted to keep werewolves wild, basically. He hated the family because he thought Byron's father stole his mate. Like I said, long story. When he came after Perdita and Amelia, Byron didn't like his own father's decisions, so he took over as alpha."

She made a face. "He had to fight him for it?"

"Not exactly. He just had a purer mental strength that's a lot harder to use than brute force. That power carries the pack, gives them the strength they need to stay whole. Instead of killing his enemies, Byron used his will to make them his, saving a lot of lives."

"And now he can't protect them," she whispered.

"Humans hurt people, too," I said hurriedly. "It's not like we're all bloodthirsty monsters."

"I know." She leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder. "It's just sad that he saved people only for them to get picked off by one of their own."

The murders would change the pack. I only hoped it didn't break us.

Perdita was waiting for us at the train station—alone.

"Thank God you're all right," she said, wrapping her arms around me. I was taller than her, but I felt like a child in her arms. "You big eejit. You could have... _anything_ could have happened to you. What were you thinking just running off without saying anything to us? We're responsible for you. We're supposed to be the ones keeping you safe. You don't have to deal with anything alone, Dorian. Families stick together."

"But the pack threatened me _and_ Margo. It was better that we got out of the way before somebody made a mistake."

"Oh, Dorian, you always manage to put them first." She reached up to pat my cheek. "Well, you're here now. That's what matters. You're both okay?"

She looked at Margo who nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"Your neck," she said, reaching out then dropping her hand. "What... was that Victor?"

Margo glanced at me.

"It's not his fault," I said. "He's upset."

"That's not a good enough excuse," Perdita said sharply. "How is he supposed to live like a normal person if he has no control over himself? Things have to change around here. It's gone too far."

"Perdita," I said softly.

She waved a hand. "I know, I know. Let's get out of here."

She led us to the car, all the while eying the perimeter as warily as a wolf, then drove us toward the city and to her dad's house. He didn't live far away, but he was definitely outside of the pack's territory. I briefly wondered whose idea that had been.

"I'll listen to whatever it is you have to say, and then I'll call Nathan and let him know what's going on." Perdita glanced at us from the driver seat. "You're safe now."

"Did you talk to him already?"

"Did you really think I was going to let him worry for a moment longer than he had to?" She gripped the steering wheel a little harder. "He cares about you a great deal, Dorian. It's about time you understood that. He didn't take you into his own home lightly. He doesn't do anything without a reason. He's been so worried. I haven't seen him like this in, well, years."

"I'm sorry," I said, truly feeling it now. There was nothing like a guilt-trip.

"He didn't feel like he had a choice," Margo said. "Victor would have hurt me if it wasn't for Dorian."

"Victor needs his head examined," Perdita said fiercely. "What on earth was he thinking?"

I'd never seen her as tense with anger before. "It's just the dominant thing getting out of control."

"Bullshit. I keep telling you that's an excuse. Do you know what Byron has that the last alphas didn't? Self-control. It's one thing to boss people about, even make them fear you, it's quite another to control your instincts when people are depending on you. It's a bigger deal to earn their respect."

"He needs more than respect," I said. "There's a killer in the pack. One of us is picking off the others. Maybe getting competition out of the way. Maybe they're targeting women to distract the rest of us, rile us up like Victor. There's something really weird going on, and I think Margo is the key to solving it."

"I'm not letting you two put yourselves in any more danger, not for the pack, not for anyone." She glanced at me. "It would break my heart if anything happened to you, Dorian."

I fell silent then because I wasn't about to make her a promise I couldn't keep.

We finally arrived. The house was empty bar two wolfhounds standing guard in the way instinct seemed to compel them. Margo and I explained everything we had come up with to Perdita.

"I need to call Nathan," she said when we were done. "Amelia needs to meet Margo properly. And it's not that I don't believe you, but I think Margo's parents really need to be a part of this."

"Tell them about werewolves?" Margo cried, sounding horrified. "About _me_?"

"There's no way they've lived with you for this long without knowing there's something different about you," Perdita said calmly. "I think they'll be relieved to know there are explanations for everything. Look, I've been through this with my own family. Whatever they're imagining now is as much of a struggle for them as the truth. They deserve to know."

I held Margo's hand while Perdita made some calls, but she couldn't calm down. "It's going to be okay," I whispered against her hair, enjoying the way it smelled, the way I felt now I was back with my family. As long as Perdita didn't hate me, I could handle whatever happened next. "I'll take whatever blame is being dished out."

"It's not that." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm afraid they'll look at me differently when they know everything."

"They love you." I held her against my chest. "Besides, after the werewolf thing, nothing will seem weird again."

That at least got a smile out of her.

In under an hour, a car pulled up outside.

"Wait," Perdita commanded, peering through the curtains, her back rail rod straight. At least she was taking our concerns seriously. Her body quickly relaxed. "It's them."

We greeted them in the hallway—Margo's parents, Nathan, his sister, Amelia—a mess of people hugging and talking over each other. I wasn't even aware of Margo's parents reactions—my focus was all on Nathan.

He gripped my shoulders, looking me over, then hugged me a tad too tight. When I made a sound of protest, he released me then slapped the back of my head.

"You little idiot," he said, sounding frustrated. "Stop doing exactly what you're told by people who don't matter. Better yet, stop listening to the wrong people. Start trusting yourself, Dor."

I held up my hands in protest. "But that's why I'm here. My gut says Margo is innocent, that she's the one who can stop the murderer."

"What's happening?" Margo's mother asked. "What murderer? What's going on here?"

Perdita subtly got between us. "I think we should all sit down."

"Sit down?" Mrs. Harding spluttered. "They just ran away together. We should be separating them."

"Mam," Margo said impatiently. "Can you just listen? We have a _lot_ to talk about. It's about my sleepwalking."

The colour drained from her mother's face. "No, it's—"

"Come on," her husband said gently. "Let's hear what they have to say." He shot Margo a pointed glance. "No more running away for any of us."

Relief took the stress from Margo's features. As the others headed into the living room, I held back with Nathan. "I have to tell them the truth about me. About us."

Nathan ran his hands through his hair. "It's not something you just go around sharing. Does Margo know?"

"Yes." I made a concentrated effort to meet his gaze.

"All right," he said after a moment. "I'll trust you."

That's about the time I started to worry I was wrong, but it was too late to backtrack.

In the living room, Perdita explained what had been happening. Somehow, everything sounded worse in the retelling.

Margo's parents exchanged looks.

"Is this a joke?" Mrs. Harding said after a long moment of silence. "We should leave."

"No," her husband said in a weary tone. "It's about time we figured this out."

"So you're aware there's something different about Margo?" Amelia asked. "Do you know what it is?"

"We know... some things," Mrs. Harding said. "We just don't understand it."

"She's always been different. Never been like other children," her husband added. "That wasn't... we didn't care. We adopted her anyway."

"What do you know about me?" Margo asked in a shaky voice. "Dad?"

He reached out and held her hand. "We found you in an orphanage in Romania. Alone. Separated from the other children. We were warned against taking you."

Mrs. Harding looked at her daughter fondly. I didn't doubt they loved her. "Of course, we fell in love and managed to take you home a month shy of your second birthday. The sleepwalking didn't start for another few years, and then it happened only twice a year at most."

"What would happen?" Amelia asked.

"There would be a death in the neighbourhood, usually. And after the funeral, we would find Margo at the grave, desperate to touch it, her eyes ice blue."

"But how did I get there?" Margo asked.

Her mother shook her head. "We'd love to know that, too. You would escape the house, no matter how many locks we installed, and it was as though you didn't see us, didn't hear us, felt no cold or heat. It grew worse around the time you started trying to understand what death meant."

"Weren't you creeped out?" Margo whispered. "You could have just... sent me back."

"No," Mrs. Harding said sharply. "We loved you, still love you. We might have tried to find explanations, but we never once thought of letting you go. We're a family, Margo. We weren't scared of you. We just wanted to help you."

"We were baffled," Mr. Harding said. "We went to a doctor who prescribed medication for the sleepwalking. It did something to Margo, helped her, for a couple of years. We thought we were over the worst, and eventually, the doctor decided it was time to cut out the medication. There were no funerals, no triggers, and we got comfortable."

"But then it happened again," Margo said dully.

Her father squeezed her hand. "This time, we weren't the ones who found her. The neighbour's dog had been knocked down. Margo found him in her sleep."

"That fits in with Dorian's idea of her having a connection to the dead," Amelia said.

"But how far does that connection reach?" Nathan asked. "This is too unpredictable."

"I've done research on harbingers," Amelia added. "I haven't uncovered much that applies to us, bar them being omens of death."

Margo's dad looked at her in surprise. "That's what they called Margo's birth mother, I think. Or rather, they called her the child of a harbinger, said it was always bad luck. I don't know. We just put it down to superstition."

"You don't seem very surprised by what we've told you about werewolves," Perdita said. "Is that shock, open-mindedness, or something else?"

Margo's parents exchanged glances. "I think we came to terms that there's something... supernatural about what happens to Margo," her father said. "And it's not the first time we've heard about werewolves. One of the women who warned us about Margo used to say something like, 'May the wolf take her.' When we asked what that meant, she rattled off stories about being protected by wolf shifters. We laughed it off at the time, but it stuck in my mind."

"I used to have nightmares," Mrs. Harding said in a small voice. "About her being ripped apart by giant wolves."

Her husband took her hand and squeezed it.

"Well, I'm not scared of wolves. Not now." Margo lifted her chin in a way that made her look stubborn. "They're the ones in danger, not me. So I've stopped taking the medicine, and I'm not going to take it again until we figure out who the killer is."

"That's not your responsibility," Nathan said, holding up his hand.

"I agree," Mrs. Harding said. "This is too dangerous. I think we should go away for a while, wait until things calm down to—"

"No." Margo rose to her feet, her eyes wild and fierce. "Like Dad said, no more running away. I need to figure this out. I can't hide from what I am, and I don't want to leave! Dorian thinks I can help, and I want to. I need to. I need control of this. I can't go through life anymore pretending I'm normal. If I can use this, then I should!"

"But that's the point," Amelia said. "You have no control over whatever it is you do. For all we know, you carry death with you, bring it to the injured."

Margo looked as though she had just been punched in the gut.

"Then we find out," I said. "We watch over her, see what she does without her medication. You help her control herself. I know you do that with some wolves. I know you can help her."

Amelia hesitated before nodding. "I'll help her, but neither of you are to get involved with these murders. It's pack business, and it'll be handled by adults. We can't alert the murderer, and we need to be careful that nobody else gets hurt."

I didn't answer, but I caught Margo's eye and saw the same thing I felt. We had to finish things, no matter where the path took us.

# Chapter 29

Margo

* * *

"Why didn't you just talk to us?" Mam asked under her breath as Amelia prepared the room to help connect me with my gift.

"Because I was kind of scared I was a murderer," I said impatiently. "You could have talked to me, too, you know. About this harbinger crap."

"We thought it was crap, too, you know," Dad said, mimicking my tone. "And now we just want to get you home."

I shook my head and looked away. "I can't go home. The pack will find me."

"And they won't find you here?" he asked impatiently. "We can call the police, and—"

"And what? Tell them there's a werewolf after me? Come on, Dad. Weird times call for weird measures. I might actually be able to do something good, something important. Do you not understand why I might want to try? Dorian's been the only person here who doesn't care what side I'm on. And the truth is, I'm on _my_ side. So let me figure out what that means."

"You're only seventeen," Mam said in a louder voice, unable to hold in her emotions anymore. "You can't stay in a strange house without your parents."

"I'll be here," Perdita said from across the room. "I'm a teacher, but Dorian lives with me. He's my responsibility. Margo has nothing to fear from us. I know the old stories you heard were unsettling, but judging by the way Dorian and Margo have connected, they're not natural enemies."

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Mam said primly. "It's this connection that worries me."

I stared at my hands in my lap, absolutely mortified.

"Nothing untoward will happen to your daughter under my roof," Perdita said in the same calm voice. "And if you really want to, you can stay here, too, but I think the best thing you can do for Margo is go back to work and tell people she's staying with relatives across the country. Cover for her, protect her that way."

"I just got her back." My mother's voice cracked. "How can I lose her again? How am I supposed to trust in any of this?"

Perdita's eyes glistened with pity. "I know what it's like. The confusion and the what ifs. My family went through the same thing. My father is the pack's doctor now, but once, he forbid me from being around them. It's hard to understand all of this. We're trained to believe that there are impossible things that can't be true, and being faced with the reality of those things requires us to throw away everything we know."

"I'm scared," Mam admitted. "Of leaving her, of taking her with me. I feel as helpless as I did when she was a child disappearing in the middle of the night."

I leaned against my mother, wishing she could understand how much I needed her.

"As long as Margo has your love and support, you're doing a good job," Perdita said softly. "She's a good kid. But she's almost an adult. It's hard to let go, but she has the truth now, and she has to figure out what that means to her. For what it's worth, I think learning to control what happens to her is the only thing that guarantees her safety. I can only imagine how terrifying it must be to wake up with your child gone from her room, and how much scarier it is for Margo to wake up in a strange place, completely unaware of what's been happening. But if she has control, that never has to happen again."

Mam gazed at me, a painful look of longing in her eyes. "What if letting her embrace it is what pulls her away from me?"

The lump in my throat grew too large to speak past.

"You love each other. That's bigger than anything else. I promise you that Nathan will protect her from the pack, from whatever it is that's really going on. As soon as we find the killer, this will all be over." She hesitated. "But nothing will ever be the same again. I was a little younger than Margo when I discovered the truth, and life got dangerous for me, too. But we'll all do whatever we can to shelter Margo and Dorian." She looked at me. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." And I did. She had gone through the same doubts as I had, and she had stuck with the pack for a reason. People like Dorian were reason enough for me.

Her expression turned firm. "Then you have to do exactly what we say. You're safe in this house. Stay inside, keep your head down, and we'll keep pretending you're not in Dublin. There won't be a scent to track because I'm not going back to the pack. My dad, his wife, and my little brother will be back tomorrow. There's no way I would put them in danger, so trust me when I say that this place is safe for you."

I nodded, and my parents didn't argue. For once, they let me make the decisions, and I hoped I was making the right ones.

"I'm ready," Amelia called out. "If the rest of you could form the circle around Margo and me, we'll get started." She led me to the centre of the room, within a circle of lit candles, and bade me to sit, facing her. "No need to be nervous," she whispered. "Stay calm, and we'll figure all of this out."

The others surrounded us, holding hands, even my parents who looked insanely uncomfortable. I could hear everyone breathing, and when Amelia took my hands and told me to close my eyes, I could have sworn I heard a heartbeat other than my own. I concentrated on that, and I calmed down.

"I have links to my ancestors," Amelia said in a quiet, soothing voice. "If I call upon them, they might help us. But I think you need to unlock your own fate, Margo. Whatever it is, it's in your blood, and you're the only one who can take that step."

"What do I do?"

"Open your eyes," she whispered, but she no longer sounded like Amelia. "The ones in your mind, the ones only you can find."

"I don't get it," I whispered, but I began to feel weightless.

"You helped release a spirit," Amelia said. "How did that feel? When the spirit came after you, what did you sense? When you fall asleep on the nights you sleepwalk, what's going on in your mind? Is there something different about those nights?"

"Sometimes," I said dreamily.

"Then I'm going to help send you back, into your mind, when you thought you weren't conscious. We're going to recall what happens when you sleepwalk, and you're going to take that feeling and make it happen again."

I tried to reply, but my mouth refused to move. So I thought of Dorian, how he felt when he lost Mara. The thought of Mara led me to a dark place, one that was impossibly cold. If I found out what happened to her, traced the one who had hurt her, it would all be over. Everyone would be safe. Especially Dorian.

"Fall asleep, Margo." The words were echoing, filling a chamber with sound. "Find the death in the air." Her voice grew distorted. I was slipping. "Tell us when..." Slipping.

* * *

_It was dark. I heard his breathing, the racing of his heart. Time was running out. A shovel hit the earth, and when I moaned, I tasted dirt._

* * *

A cry of pain made my eyes snap open. I blinked a couple of times, trying to place myself. I was standing at the door, and many hands were on me, trying to restrain me.

"What?" I looked from one face to another. "How?"

Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. "She's back. We couldn't wake you, Margo. Your eyes turned blue, and—"

"You stopped me too soon," I said. "I heard a shovel. I saw... I don't know. It was so dark. There was a man, hurrying. Somebody was hurt. I don't know if it's already happened or not. I can't... I can't tell!"

Nathan came into the room, his phone in his hand and a worried look on his face. "Victor's missing," he said. "Alison's been covering for him since last night, but she got worried and confessed. He told her he was going to find Dorian, left, and never came back. Amelia, we need to go looking for him. No, Dorian, you stay here." He kissed Perdita's cheek. "Will you be okay?"

"Of course," she said. "Go find him."

"What if he's the killer?" I blurted. "It's a male, I think."

"Then we'll be careful," Amelia said. "But a lone wolf doesn't stand a chance against a united pack. Now go rest, Margo. You look exhausted."

"Thank you," I said. "It's not so scary now."

"Good." Her smile was wan. "Let's go, brother. Before we lose another pack member."

The rest of us settled in to wait, but when I exchanged a look with Dorian, I knew he felt the same as me—itching to find the killer ourselves.

# Chapter 30

Dorian

* * *

That night, Margo's parents went home to sleep, leaving her with me and Perdita. We stayed up late, speculating, until Perdita went to bed.

She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. "You know my rules, Dorian."

I nodded, my face burning.

When she left, Margo said, "What was that about?"

"She doesn't want us to do anything inappropriate."

"Wow. Awkward."

"Moving on." I slipped onto the seat next to her on the sofa. "Your parents took it well, I thought."

"They seemed as ready as I was for answers. How could they have gone through my entire life wondering like that?"

"You did the same thing."

She gazed at her hands. "I suppose I did. What now?"

"We wait to see what happens next."

"Do you think Victor will find us here?"

"Nah." It was odd he left the others to track me down alone. What had triggered that? "Are you sure you didn't see anything else when you... did your thing?"

She made a face. "My _thing_ is unreliable. I thought of you, of your grief, and then I felt like I was being taken somewhere. I didn't see much, more like I sensed it, maybe?"

"I get it." I remembered something. "When Emma fell into the canal, I was ready to run. I sensed something bad was about to happen, and I think that was because of you. Your eyes had turned blue, and the atmosphere changed. You were my warning signal."

"Lucky for Emma," she said. "Unlucky for the murderer if we figure out how to use this to our advantage." She stood and paced restlessly. "How could I not be aware of what I was doing?"

"You didn't know." But I sensed she didn't want comfort. "Maybe now that you know, it'll be easier for you to control it."

"Thinking of you helped. Maybe it made this mean something to me. Gave me something to focus on." She moved to the window, staring into space. "Dorian, we have to do something. What if they don't find him in time? What if somebody else dies?"

"Do you feel anything?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said, but she sounded unsure. "Maybe I could try."

A phone rang upstairs, and we heard Perdita get up to answer it.

"Maybe you did feel something," I whispered.

She chewed on her fingernail, and we both grew quiet as we waited to hear the news. My stomach turned. I didn't want to hear about another death.

When Perdita came downstairs, she was fully dressed and ready to leave.

"I have to go," she said urgently. "You need to stay here. Dominic's injured, and nobody's answering the phones. I have to get him out of there."

"Why doesn't he just shift?" I asked.

"His leg is constricted. It was Victor, he thinks. He can't free himself, and nobody's coming when he shouts."

"So we wait for Nathan," I said, panicked at the idea of her leaving.

"I can't wait. Margo saw somebody digging a grave. What if it's for Dominic?" She ran her hands through her hair in agitation. "I can't just let someone die. Besides that, the pack will fall apart if they lose even one more person. I have to try to help him."

"I'll come with you then."

"No," she said sharply. "I've called the Hardings to come get you out of here. Stay with Margo until they arrive. In the meantime, lock the doors, and be ready to protect Margo. Keep calling Nathan and the others. Someone has to answer eventually."

"Wait! At least take the dogs with you."

"One, maybe. I should go."

Something in her tone sounded off, left me wary. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I just... It's nothing." She touched my face then, regret in her eyes. "If it's Victor, and he comes here and tries to hurt you, don't hesitate. Promise me you won't let him hurt you."

"I... promise." I was too stunned by the new hardness in her gaze to say anything else.

"Stay safe. Both of you. Nathan will probably call me back before I even get there." She left abruptly, taking one of the wolfhounds and leaving the other.

"She didn't want to go," I said as the car pulled away from the house. "I shouldn't have let her."

"We could follow her." Margo reached for my hand. "I mean, what if he goes after her instead?"

"I won't let him," I said fiercely. "But we won't catch up to her now, so this is it. Do your thing. We can't let her go out there alone. We need to find him first. I need you to help me."

"I'll try," Margo said, but she didn't sound confident.

"You can do this."

She took a deep breath. "Maybe if I focus on your worry for Perdita. Maybe that will be a strong enough connection to get me somewhere."

"Please," I whispered. "Please find him before she does."

She held my hand tight, squeezing her eyes shut. "Talk about her," she murmured. "My mind keeps drifting."

I kept talking about the pack and Perdita until Margo's eyes shot open and turned a chilling blue. The dog whined.

"Margo?"

She ignored me, stood, and then walked right by me. All I could do was follow her with the wolfhound. It was dark and cold outside, but Margo was the one giving me shivers.

She strode in a different way, as though full-sure of herself and her destination. Her arms swung by her sides, and the only sound she made was a repetitive clunk as her boots met the pavement.

"Margo?" I said hesitantly.

She didn't answer. The chill around her expanded. And then she broke into a run, the dog and I barely keeping up.

Time ticked on; she was fast, but we were on foot. Cars shot past us as we ran back toward town. Sweat dripped down my back, despite the unforgiving cold enveloping us. Margo didn't even pant. She just kept going, determinedly pushing forward.

Eventually, we got back into town. I thought we were heading toward my own home, but we ended up on the stretch of land we used as an emergency run. The field was a place we would one day build upon, the place I had first found her, staring as though uncovering a secret. I shivered at the memory. Some part of her had known, even then.

There was little cover, something my wolf noted with concern, and any car driving by could see us clearly. But apart from us, the field was completely empty.

"This isn't it," I said, so frustrated I wanted to cry. "Margo, he can't be here."

She kept moving fast, completely ignoring me, until we reached the end of the field. She collapsed onto her knees in front of a wizened tree and dug her hands into the soil. _Something_ had to be there.

I helped her, scooping out handfuls of damp soil to get to what was beneath. The scent around the tree was odd. Strong, chemical-like. Something that covered up secrets from werewolves.

Covered in mud, we finally reached what Margo had been looking for since the day we'd met. I'd been preparing myself for a body, but all we found were bags.

I opened up the closest bag to me. It had been stuffed with clothes. Some smelled like Alex. I kept going, looking through the bags. A small grey bag caught my eye. I'd seen it before. I opened it up and found Eric's passport. He'd never left us.

I shivered, wanting to vomit, needing to run, trying to stay calm.

"Dorian?" Margo whispered, gazing at her muddy hands. "This isn't it. This is the wrong place."

"These are... Alex and Eric. It's their things. Eric must be... I can't think about that right now. How did you end up here?"

She screwed up her face. "I think I kept thinking about what the killer had already done. What you said about dominant wolves going missing and stuff. I should have been thinking about what he _could_ do. It's hard to concentrate on one thing when there's so much..." She waved a hand. "I don't know how to do this!"

I took her hand and held it still. "You can figure it out. You have to. Where is he? Who is he after next?"

The pile of dirt next to us shot up into the air and rained down on us. The dog whimpered, and I gripped his lead a little tighter in case he ran off.

Margo touched her stomach, breathing heavily. "It's here again, that spirit thing. I feel it, Dorian. It's angry. Frustrated. It _knows_. Maybe _it_ led us here."

"Think for a minute," I said. "How do _you_ feel? Where are you supposed to be right now?"

"This is so different," she whispered. "I feel sick. Scared. Something tastes bad in my mouth. I can't _breathe_. We have to go back." She stood and looked in the direction of Wolf Row. "I think... I think we have to go to the woods by your house."

My stomach sank. Nobody would be searching there still. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know. There's this feeling. It's so _cold_. I think... I think something is wrong. Right now. Something is badly wrong. I have to find out what he's doing _now_. I have to—" Her eyes turned blue, and she was off, leaving me to catch up.

I called Perdita and Nathan's phones as we jogged toward the houses, one hand on the dog's lead. Nobody answered so I left messages. I was desperate to turn wolf, but if Margo suddenly woke up, she might be terrified. I sensed a presence with us that made my skin crawl. The wolfhound whimpered as we ran, unsettling my wolf, too.

Sweat trickled down my back. We should have stayed in the house. We should never have left. I grabbed Margo's arm, jolting to a stop. She brushed me off and kept going.

The dog let out a sharp bark, and I upped my pace, realising I heard whining from somewhere nearby. Perdita's car was parked outside my house.

"Perdita?" I called out.

The whining grew louder. We reached the car, and I opened the door. Perdita's dog was inside, his back legs visibly broken.

"It's okay," I said soothingly, trying my hardest not to panic. "I'll be back."

The dogs both whimpered. I looked around. Margo had already disappeared into the woods. And when I chased after her, letting my dog off-lead, I distinctly caught Perdita's scent.

_Please, no._

I lost her scent almost immediately. A chemical in the air mixed up the trails, something far stronger than the scents I could follow. My eyes watered as bitterness invaded my nostrils, similar to the scent around the bags. I wouldn't be able to track Perdita without my sense of smell.

I was blind, and a sleepwalker was the only person around who could lead me.

I caught up to Margo, but she kept moving, straight through the woods, her hands opening and closing into fists. She didn't falter, looked as though she knew exactly what she was doing. But did she?

Doubt set in. We didn't know anything about harbingers—or even if that really was Margo's heritage. I had to trust I wasn't bringing death to somebody I cared about. I had to trust in myself and my own instincts. Margo was the warning signal. I just had to pay attention.

I fell behind again, struggling to catch a scent and too afraid to go into my wolf form in case anyone needed a different kind of help. I vaguely picked up Perdita's scent every now and then, and each time, the weight in my stomach increased.

The wolfhound howled then dashed forward, but Margo was somehow quicker. She lurched forward and onto her knees, her hands digging into a fresh mound of dirt. A grave. I froze to the spot, unable to move another inch.

_Please. Not her. Please don't be her._

A twig cracked. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Somebody was walking toward Margo from the other side of the clearing, so arrogant that they didn't even scout the area first. I ducked behind a tree then immediately stripped off.

"I knew there was something about you," Dominic said in a voice I barely recognised.

The wolfhound stood between them and snarled. Dom snarled back, and the dog whimpered, his tail between his legs. Even from across the clearing, I felt the dominance in the gesture. Pieces of the puzzle slid into place. All along, Dominic had been working on the pack, using small amounts of will to push the others into following the alpha's known rules, making it easier for them to obey him instead because it seemed to them as though they were obeying the alpha. The poor dog didn't stand a chance.

Dom hadn't noticed me yet. The chemicals he used had obviously interfered with his nose, too, and I was downwind. I was hidden, but I was even more of a shadow as a wolf. My shift began, painful but silent, and something inside of me shifted with it. My pack had been hurt. People I cared about had been hurt. There was only one ending to that story.

Margo came to with a gasp, but her hands frantically brushed soil free, revealing pale skin. "She's still alive," she cried out. "But she's going to die. _Soon_. Help me."

"No," he said, and his teeth bared into fangs.

I let out a raw howl that was somehow louder and more powerful than anything I'd ever managed. Somebody somewhere would hear. They would come. But it might be too late.

Dominic looked over at me in horror and confusion, comically surprised by my presence, then stripped off his clothes to shift.

But I had already shifted, and Dominic was a split second too late to sense me coming. He had always underestimated me.

He was mid-shift when I reached him, fuelled by a fury I didn't know existed. We rolled over, me snapping and biting anywhere I could reach, him uniquely vulnerable as his body continued its transformation. All I knew was that I wanted him as far away from Margo as possible. I heard an odd sound from Margo's direction and lost my concentration.

The momentary distraction was all Dom needed to complete his shift and shrug me off him. We faced one another, moving slowly as he attempted to circle me, to get past me, to reach Margo and Perdita.

_Not going to happen._

He bared his teeth, and my legs trembled. He snarled then let out a sharp, commanding bark. Every instinct in me should have obeyed. That was what he was expecting, what _I_ was expecting.

But Margo and Perdita needed me, so I fought against his will, pushing back with everything I had. I couldn't let him win. I _couldn't_.

I lunged at him, catching him off-guard for a mere second. His teeth sank into my flesh, but I felt nothing, not even anger anymore. Anger wouldn't help me. Control would. So I stayed calm and twisted out of his reach, flanked him, then leapt on him and gripped the back of his neck. My hold wasn't firm enough. He snarled and twisted and gripped my leg. He flung me aside then ran for Margo. The wolfhound got in the way, barking and growling viciously.

Dom went for the dog, but I bit onto his tail and pulled. Dom spun and attacked, but I was ready for him. We bit and scrambled, snapped and clawed. Blood filled my mouth, but I was determined to do whatever it took to protect my people. The dog jumped around us, biting Dom whenever he got a chance. I heard Margo screaming something. Words didn't form coherently in my head anymore. I was all wolf.

Dom was heavier than me, stronger, and when he finally pinned me by the throat, I couldn't free myself, no matter what I did. But I heard a howl far off in the distance, and the dog responded. If I could just last long enough, distract him, _survive_ until the others showed up...

Margo loomed behind Dom, bravely gripping his hind legs and lifting him as high as she could. Desperation had to give her strength, but her knees buckled from his weight. He unbalanced ever so slightly then whipped around to attack her. I struggled through the dizziness to leap on his back as Margo fell back, barely keeping her throat clear of his jaws. Perdita's form lay unmoving behind her, most of her body still covered with earth.

My strength renewed at the sight of both of them. I sank my teeth into the back of his neck. Seeing her chance, Margo swung her boot-clad foot into Dom's neck as the wolfhound rammed into his side. His legs gave way, giving me the opportunity to get a good grip. He tried to fling me off, but I used my speed and long legs to get the upper hand and violently shake him.

While I had him pinned, the dog dove at his back legs, aiming to keep him disabled. I could have killed him. But he wasn't my kill. I might have been wolf, but I still had control. Exhausted, Dom tried to fight back, but I was never letting him go, never letting him touch the people I cared about again.

I was still holding him, still shaking him, barely able to stand myself when the others came and surrounded me. Somebody licked my face and nudged me away, releasing me from my duty. I limped over to my family. Margo lay next to them, unconscious. I sniffed her face. She was breathing, unharmed. She would be fine.

But Perdita... I crawled next to Nathan. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he held her in his arms.

Whimpering, I lay my chin on Perdita's shoulder. She was warm. Breathing. Alive.

"They're okay," Nathan said shakily. "It's over."

He touched my ear, and I relaxed, but I couldn't have gotten to my feet even if I tried. My part was done. I could rest. And so I did.

# Chapter 31

Margo

* * *

"He's fine," Amelia said reassuringly, only a day after everything had happened.

"He could have died." I still hadn't stopped shaking. I'd thought Dorian was dead for a moment when I'd regained consciousness. I wasn't sure why I had fainted, only that I hadn't had an ounce of energy remaining once I'd made sure Perdita was breathing—except for that last ditch-effort to help Dorian win a fight he seemed sure to lose. Even at that, I couldn't be sure it hadn't been the spirit forcing me to fight back.

"Except he didn't." Amelia linked arms with me as we walked toward the alpha's house. "Everyone's okay. How are you feeling?"

"A little shaky. It still hasn't really sunk in."

"And are you able to face the next step?"

I inhaled sharply. "We don't have a choice. We need to end this once and for all."

She nodded and led me into a house a few doors down from Dorian's home. Dorian had been unconscious for an entire day. In the meantime, Dominic hadn't spoken a word to anyone, but Amelia and I had a job to do.

I was surprised to see Ryan and Byron accompany Nathan inside as we approached. I knew he had been by Perdita's side since we found her, blaming himself for leaving her alone. She was doing well, but I couldn't imagine the trauma she suffered.

I'd felt her death, tasted it, knew I was running out of time to save her. Something had pulled me right to her and known she was fading. If she hadn't fought him so hard, he would have buried her quicker, and I might have been too late to find her.

The werewolves had been led astray too far from home. Nathan had checked his voicemail to check up on his family. Perdita's message saying that Victor had attacked Dom when he was already with Nathan had sent them back to their own territory to investigate. And Victor had only gone off alone in the first place after Dom convinced him Dorian was in danger. I wasn't sure I'd ever understand the pack, but I was glad Victor didn't want Dorian dead either way.

Inside, Nathan took my hands, his expression an open wound. "You saved her," he said in a hoarse voice. "Anything you need. From now on. _Anything_. You saved my mate. I can't..."

"Dorian did more. He kept that man away from me long enough for me to help her." My voice cracked. "Even though he was hurt." It had been the most terrifying experience in my life. A seemingly lifeless woman, a friend who appeared to be bleeding out, and me barely able to stay awake long enough to help either of them.

Nathan looked sick. Ryan squeezed his shoulder. I liked him, I decided. He'd been taking care of everyone since... the incident.

"She's fine now," he said gently. "The worst never happened. Stop imagining it did."

"I can't help it." Nathan smiled wryly. "Both of them were struggling to survive, and I wasn't there. Again."

"You can't always be there," he said. "That's why you teach them to take care of themselves."

Nathan scowled. "I taught her to trust the pack. Or he would never have gotten her out there at all."

"Dorian stood in your place this time," Ryan said. "That's what pack is supposed to be."

Nathan nodded. "He did. I give him grief about not being able to stand up for himself, but he's too busy saving everyone else."

"So does this mean Dorian can stay with the pack?" I asked. "You won't send him away now, right?"

"Why wouldn't he be staying?" Nathan said, his forehead creasing in confusion.

"He thinks he's not good enough to stay," I said, too tired to even consider that Dorian might not want me to tell his secrets. "That he'll be sent away when he's eighteen because he's not useful to the pack. That's part of the reason why he wanted to find the murderer. But he saved Ms. Rivers, so that makes him useful, right?"

Nathan turned away, covering his face. I faltered, unsure of myself. Ryan looked helplessly at Amelia.

She hugged her brother, but he stepped away from her as though he couldn't handle even one more thing.

"Let's deal with Dominic." Amelia turned to me, her eyes glassy. "See if he has anything to say for himself."

She held my hand as we headed into the study where Dominic was strapped to a chair, his face bruised and swollen. A bandage had been haphazardly stuck to his neck to cover a nasty bite.

I gazed into his eyes, seeking answers, but all I found was shrewdness and cruelty. He'd had a plan, and he'd gotten caught. A lot of werewolves mistakenly assumed that Dominic had been possessed by the spirit we had released at the party. That had never been true. The spirit was around, trying to warn people what was wrong, but completely unable to do so.

"Are you going to free me from the spirit?" he asked in a genial tone. "I can't remember the things they've said I've done."

"You're a liar," I said.

I sensed Nathan tense behind me. Amelia's grip on my hand tightened.

Dominic stared at me, so blankly I almost doubted myself. "I don't even know who you are."

"I'm the one who found the belongings of your victims," I said shakily. "I'm the one who found their bodies. I'm the one who found Perdita in time. I'm the one who showed everyone your true face. Remember that?"

His arms strained against his confinements. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Are you claiming to be possessed?" Ryan asked. "Seriously?"

"Of course," Dom said. "Why else would I harm any of my pack?"

"Because you wanted to destroy everything Byron had built so you could steal the leftovers from him, you coward," Nathan said in a snarly sort of voice.

I shivered at the tension in the room. For the first time since we met, I saw the concealed monster inside Nathan, the one that could easily maim or destroy. I was glad we were on the same side.

"If he makes a claim, I'll help release him," Amelia said sweetly. "Would you like that, Dom? Like me to use my magic on you, call the spirits here to free you?"

He glared at her. "We didn't get attacked by spirits before the likes of you."

"Is that so?" She shrugged. "Is it my fault you're a murderer then?"

His expression completely changed, and he struggled to stay silent.

"The spirit came through on Halloween to warn everyone," I said in a loud voice. "You did this all by yourself, and the spirit was forced to watch you act. Did you speed it up because of the spirit? Thinking it was the perfect excuse?"

He refused to answer. The light over his head sparked. He looked frightened, and I wondered if the spirit was reaching out to him, trying to strike.

Every door in the house slammed shut at once, making it feel as though the entire building rattled.

"It's haunting me," Dominic blurted. "I haven't slept because of the damn thing. Get rid of it."

"We do need to help the spirit," Amelia said.

"And what about me?" Dom snapped. "What do you deign to do with me?"

She looked him up and down. "I'm not the one who has to deal with you, traitor."

"I tremble in wait for my alpha's decision." Dominic sneered in my direction. "Well, _Harbinger_. Do you see death for me?"

I stood. "I see nothing but darkness when I think of you."

And then I walked out of there.

Amelia smiled at me from across the circle, looking completely relaxed. "Ready?"

I glanced at Dorian who squeezed my hand, then nodded my acceptance. Nathan, Perdita, Byron, Ryan, and surprisingly, Victor, completed the circle. We all held hands, the candles lit and smelling sweetly in the room. I sensed that presence again, but it was no longer agitated and scary. It had relaxed, too.

Perdita looked weak but determined, while Dorian had a hideous black eye and bite marks on his arms and neck. He winked at me, and I braced myself for what would happen next.

"We know you're here," Amelia said. "The harbinger is willing to let you speak through her if you can. I can't seem to reach you myself. If you are here, she's open to you, so try again."

"Are you there?" I asked hesitantly. "We caught him. It's okay now. It's over."

"I know."

I looked to the window. A figure was standing there, but I could tell nobody else could see or hear him.

"Hi," I said. "I can see you."

The others looked around in surprise.

The old man turned to me and smiled. "You did well, you and the pup. Better than I managed." He had an accent. I wasn't sure if I was actually hearing him though, or if it was somehow in my head.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Jakob Evans," he said. "An old fool who died a restless death. I owed them more than I gave them."

"Who are you to them?" I asked.

He moved to Byron. "This is my son."

_Oh_.

"Who is it?" Byron asked, apparently confused by my staring.

"Your dad," I said. "Jakob, right?"

He froze.

"Opa's here?" Amelia said, her eyes immediately filling with tears. "Tell him I'm sorry I wasn't more..." She shook her head. "I don't know."

"He said he owed you all." I looked at the spirit who nodded.

"I felt the danger, but it's been so confusing. Time passes, and I don't know where I am. Sometimes I forget _who_ I am," he said. "But that wolf gave me something to focus on, tethered me to consciousness. I'd been trying to reach them all for a while, but they didn't hear me. I failed them in life and death. Then you came, and I knew you were the key. I felt the space around you, saw an opportunity. At Halloween, I had the greatest chance of communicating, but it didn't work properly. You were closed off, and I... got lost somehow."

I repeated everything he was saying. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know. I still don't really know what I am, what I can do."

"Neither do I," he said. "But I was drawn to you. There's enough death in you to make you a bridge. You live, but death marks you. You were my only hope. I had to be noticed."

I didn't repeat most of that. "So you never possessed Dominic then."

"I wouldn't want to be in that creature's body," he said with distaste. "I only tried to warn my family. I didn't do enough."

"You did," I said. "You helped us figure it out. We caught him."

"I... don't know how to get back. To move on."

I looked at Amelia. "He's not sure how to move on from here."

"Opa, it's time," she said. "Your job is done. We're okay now. You taught us, and we learned. I'll try to help you now, but you have to want to move on."

His forehead creased. "I don't want to leave them."

"I think it's time," I said.

"Your wife is waiting," Byron said huskily. "Go to her. We'll see you again."

An odd chill formed in my chest. Perdita's hand jerked in mine. Dorian gripped me a little tighter. I let go of Perdita and held out my hand to the spirit.

"It's growing stronger around you," Jakob said. "Death."

"Take it then," I said, wincing from the strain of holding on to that feeling and still staying awake. It was sleepwalking while awake, but worse because I was holding death in my hand. Jakob's form sort of slithered around my arm, passed through me, and then disappeared. I let out a gasp, but he was gone. It was over. The air smelled like flowers, for some reason.

"He's gone," I said. "Do you smell that?"

"Violets," Nathan said gruffly. Perdita moved to hug him.

"Mémère," Amelia said, holding her fist to her chest. She reached out and held Byron's hand. "Opa's at peace now."

"What happened to him?" I asked. "He seemed... regretful."

Amelia shook her head. "The way my grandfather died... the months before his death... he was a changed man. It's a relief to know he's found some kind of peace."

"He just wanted to protect you all," I said. "And punish Dominic."

Byron rose to his feet. "That's next on the agenda."

The others all left the room. I helped Amelia clean up, forcing myself past the weakness, that ice-cold place inside my chest.

"It sounded like there was a story there," I remarked, partly to distract myself.

"Yes," she said. "My grandfather lost his mate, and then he lost himself, too. That's why we worry about Perdita. We're all terrified that Nathan will end up the same way. All these years, I've felt so guilty about the way things ended with my grandfather, but I don't know how we could have changed it for the better."

"I'm sorry you had that on your shoulders for so long."

"I should thank you for giving me some closure, actually. If you hadn't come along, Opa might never have found peace, and we would have likely lost Perdita, too. I owe you, Margo. I'll always remember what you've done for us. If you ever need me, I'll be there."

Her brother had said the same thing.

"Thanks, but let's hope the drama is over."

She smiled and patted my shoulder. "With werewolves, the drama's never over."

I thought of how I felt when I helped her grandfather, the growing cold within. I smothered it as best I could, but I had a feeling that someday, it would come back to haunt me.

# Chapter 32

Dorian

* * *

I hadn't been alone since I woke up, but when Nathan told me a pack meeting was being held, I knew I had to be there.

First, I needed to speak to Margo. We hadn't had time alone yet, but whenever I caught her looking at me, her eyes were full of what I was afraid could be fear.

While the others went on ahead, I got her alone. "You okay?" I asked uncertainly, trying not to crowd her. "Things have been pretty intense."

"Intense?" Her lower lip trembled. "I thought you were going to die."

I'd been talking about the spirit. It was better than thinking how close I'd come to losing the people I cared about.

She shivered. "That man wanted us all dead, and we walked right into him."

"For Perdita," I said. "I'm sorry I put you through that, but..."

"You'd do anything for her." Her smile put me at ease. "If it had been my mother out there, I know I'd have done the same."

My insides warmed. "Thank you for helping her."

"Oh, don't you start." She lifted her hand to touch me then dropped it just as quickly. "I'm just glad she's okay."

"It must have frightened you." I squirmed as I saw the incident through her eyes. " _I_ must have frightened you."

She widened her eyes. "No. It wasn't like that. You didn't even seem angry, just determined. He was growling and snarling, but you were so quiet in comparison. I knew you weren't going to let him hurt us, but I was scared _you_ were the one who was going to get hurt. But are you safe here? You all thought that man was your friend."

"Dominic was a good actor," I said. "But he got caught. He befriended people then turned on them, but _we_ stopped him."

"Yeah, we did." She grinned, and the tension in my chest eased a little. "I suppose I am getting better at being a warning bell." Warmth curled around me. How had I ever thought of her as cold and uninviting?

"Listen..." I paused, unsure of how to form the words I wanted to say.

She looked unsure herself. "What is it?"

"Okay. I get that this isn't normal. At all. And that we've been through something scary and horrible. I'll understand if it's put you right off, but do you wanna go out sometime? Like properly. Do something normal?" I stepped back and waited.

"Oh." She looked taken aback. "That's very formal of you."

"Wanna go out? Yeah, super formal. The hand-engraved invitation is in my back pocket, ready to go."

She grinned. "Shut up, wolf." She reached up and kissed me, her lips cool against mine. I gathered her against me, relieved. If even a murderer didn't put her off...

I broke away. "Hold that thought for a bit. I have to be there."

"I get it," she said. "Pack stuff."

"Hang around if you can. If not, I'll meet you later."

"I'll wait. It's been kind of nice hanging around here today, you know, apart from the serious stuff." She took a deep breath. "Good luck."

I hoped I wouldn't need it. I made my way outside where the entire pack had gathered. Dominic sat in the centre, and everyone stared at him, whether they believed in him or not.

I walked through the crowd, bearing the damage Dom had given me. I felt the stares of everyone switch to me as I walked right in front of Dom and looked him in the eye. His jaw tensed. I gave him a scornful shake of the head before finding a seat next to Nathan who patted me on the shoulder. His fingers trembled, and I knew he was having great difficulty fighting against his instincts to tear Dom apart.

"You are accused." Byron didn't bother raising his voice. He almost sounded bored, as though his time was being wasted. "We hold you responsible for the murder of three pack members and the attempted murder of others."

"Do humans and assorted count as pack members?" Dom asked lazily.

"The mates of pack members absolutely count. But killing any human is murder worthy of punishment," Byron replied calmly.

"I was possessed by a spirit," Dom said.

"No, you weren't!" Victor shouted, jumping to his feet. Ryan held him in place to stop him from attacking Dom. "You killed Mara, you traitor! And Alex. And even Eric. You used me, tried to turn me against my own pack! Yeah, there was a spirit, but he was trying to warn everyone about you!"

"Calm down," Dominic said. "Or I'll send you to your knees."

Nathan bristled, and whispers moved around the room. Dom had been showing off his dominance in small ways for months because he'd been building up to this. He _wanted_ a public confrontation. I couldn't let him win, no matter what it took.

"Tell the truth," Byron said. "Explain yourself."

"All right." Dom stretched. "Eric came after _me_ , mocking me about how he had a permanent place in the pack and I didn't. I told him it was just another example of a bad decision by a foolish alpha. He challenged me. We fought. I beat him. He didn't survive. I knew how delicate you would be about it, so I let everyone think the boy just left."

"Did you regret it?" Amelia asked.

"Nope. He wasn't strong enough. I am. One less piece of competition. We all know we need a strong leader."

"Did Alex challenge you?" Byron asked.

Dominic laughed harshly. "Alex was just a bitch I slept with. She meant nothing to me, but she started talking about the next generation, as though her madness could be wiped clean. We've had enough weakness born into our pack. Once Eric was gone, I saw what I had to do. What was best for this pack."

"Killing Alex was best for the pack?" Cecilia asked, obviously horrified.

"Yes," Dominic said firmly. "She was weak in the mind, damaged beyond repair. We all know wolves like that end up the same way. She would have taken her own life eventually, so I decided to make her death worth something. The death of a woman, a possible breeder, would spook the pack, make them see things clearly. And when I moved on to Nathan's mate and drove him mad, there would be no going back. An Evans wolf shouldn't be alpha. They're too weak, need the things humans do too badly. The pack would have united, and we could have moved on to better leadership without divisions forming."

"And Mara?" Victor asked. He was crying, but he didn't seem to care. "How did she fit?"

Dom shrugged, but he looked down, unable to meet anyone's eye.

Ryan pointed at him, and I realised for the first time how angry he was. "She wasn't a threat. She might have been dominant, but she was just a child. She was never going to be alpha, never going to challenge you."

"She realised what happened," Dominic said, the smallest hint of regret in his voice. "Figured it out. Came at me in a rage. She didn't give me a choice. She wouldn't let me explain. If she'd been sensible about it, I would have told her why Byron Evans is a weak alpha." He turned to take in the crowd, and the anger coming from Nathan spiked to dangerous levels. "We all know, don't we? We all agree. He can't lead us anywhere but to ruin. I can take this pack from him anytime. I'm smart, dominant, and—"

"No." I rose to my feet before Nathan had a chance to think about attacking Dom. "You're not. If you were alpha, you would have taken the pack in the first place. You would have challenged Byron instead of sneaking around stabbing vulnerable wolves in the back. You're a coward who tried to steal the pack instead of earning it, and I see through you. If you're alpha, then why couldn't you beat me, Dom? Why can't you stop me from looking you in the eye?"

He flew at me, his face partly transforming. Nathan jumped to his feet, but I stood still and waited, refusing to break Dom's gaze. Jorge got in the way and flung Dom onto his back before he could reach me. Dom kicked out, but Jorge's brother stamped on his ankle. Nobody tried to stand up for Dom. It was over.

I walked away to leave.

"Where are you going?" he shouted, his mouth full of fangs. "Don't you want to hear my punishment? Don't you want to see your precious alpha win?"

"Win what?" I asked, turning to look at him. "You were a failure from the start. This is no win. You're nothing. I don't care what happens to you. You're that unimportant. Pack protects pack. You're no wolf if you don't know that."

I walked away, sensed Nathan follow, then Ryan.

Byron stood, too.

"What's wrong?" Dominic sneered. "Not ready to judge me? Do you need a few days to contemplate your morals?"

"You murdered like a human," Byron said. "Human laws will judge you, or these people will. But I won't judge you because you're no wolf of mine."

Byron disowned Dominic and followed us out. The sounds of growling continued as we walked away. They would never let humans judge Dominic for what he did, not when they had their alpha's permission to decide for themselves.

"What would you have done if they let him go?" I murmured to Nathan.

"I'd have to go back to Perdita with blood on my hands. I should feel relieved."

I understood the regret in his voice. "Yeah. Me, too."

He wrapped his arm around me. "When I took you into my home, it was for good, Dorian. There was never a chance of me sending you away. You're an Evans. You became one on the day we met. Never forget that."

I couldn't look at him, because if I did, I'd lose it completely.

Dominic was dead before we reached our house, but I was too busy thinking of Margo, my family, and the good things in life to care.

# Books by Claire Farrell:

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**Chaos Series:**

One Night with the Fae (Companion Prequel)

Soul (Chaos #1)

Fade (Chaos #2)

Queen (Chaos #3)

Usurper (Chaos #4)

Blight (Chaos #5)

Kings (Chaos #5.5)

Sacrifice (Chaos #6)

Chaos Volume 1 (Books 1-3)

Chaos Volume 2 (Books 4-6)

* * *

**Ava Delaney Series (Completed):**

Thirst (Ava Delaney #1)

Taunt (Ava Delaney #2)

Tempt (Ava Delaney #3)

Taken (Ava Delaney #4)

Taste (Ava Delaney #5)

Traitor (Ava Delaney #6)

Awakening (Ava Delaney Volume I – Books 1-3)

Uprising (Ava Delaney Volume II – Books 4-6)

* * *

**Lost Souls Series:**

Tainted (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #1)

Tethers (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #2)

Tithes (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #3)

Ava Delaney: Lost Souls - Volume 1

* * *

**VBI Series:**

Demon Dog (VBI #1)

Bad Blood (VBI #2)

Secret Self (VBI #3)

* * *

**Cursed Series (Completed):**

Verity (Cursed #1)

Clarity (Cursed #2)

Adversity (Cursed #2.5)

Purity (Cursed #3)

Cursed Omnibus (Entire Cursed Series)

* * *

**Harbinger Series - An Evans Pack Trilogy:**

Sleepwalker (Harbinger #1)

Firestarter (Harbinger #2) Coming Soon

Shapeshifter (Harbinger #3) Coming Soon

* * *

**Stake You Series (Completed):**

Stake You (Stake You #1)

Make You (Stake You #2)

Break You (Stake You #3)

* * *

**Short Story Collections:**

Sixty Seconds

A Little Girl in my Room

* * *

**Other:**

Death is a Gift (A standalone banshee novel)

Zombie Moon Rising (A Peter Brannigan Novella)

Ghost Moon Rising (A Peter Brannigan Novella)

Crucible (A Phoenix Novella)

Bind (An Esther Novella)

Relativity (A Lorcan & Lucia Novella)

Crossroads (A Phoenix Novella)

Magic Thief (An Ari Novella)
