“Hey.” He caught her eyes. “Lakie, I’m here. I always was.”
“As touching as this reunion is,” Caroline bit in, “can we concentrate on the part where weapons go straight through ghosts? I hate to be the one to point this out, but it’s not exactly a handicap for a killer to be more capable of violence when he’s also invisible.”
Lake gave Caroline a disgruntled look, but the latter was clearly immune.
Jed cleared his throat—about as close to diplomatic as the old man could come. “There’s not a thing alive that can’t be killed, Caro. Dead things included.”
If Jed saw the contradiction inherent in those words, he gave no indication of it. “You just have to know where to hit it.”
Caroline’s hunter eyes appraised Griffin. Lake’s lip curled upward, her incisors gleaming in the scant light of the cave.
“No, Lake,” Griffin interceded. “She’s right. This thing isn’t going to stop until someone stops it.”
It was getting easier to believe that he was on our side, that we really could trust him. But what if that was the point?
“There’s only one thing that hurts me.” This time, Griffin directed his words at me, like he knew what I was thinking.
“What is it?” Lake didn’t give her brother a chance to reply, before fixing him with a look. “I recommend you open that mouth of yours and start talking, Griffin.”
Caroline might have wanted to know a ghost’s weaknesses so she could hunt one, but I was fairly certain Lake wanted to know what could hurt Griffin so that she could make 100 percent certain that nothing did.
“There’s only one thing that hurts me,” Griffin repeated.
Lake didn’t seem to appreciate his stalling. “What?”
He gave her a weak smile. “When something hurts you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
HOURS LATER, WITH THE STORM RAGING OUT ON THE mountain, the seven of us were still crowded into the tiny cave. We’d settled into a loaded silence, the heat of our bodies fighting back the wind and brutal rain, neither of which showed any signs of stopping.
Our cell phones—not shockingly—had no reception, which meant that I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Callum. I was hoping that once I did, he’d be able to call off the Senate and keep Shay and the others from coming after Maddy. That was the one good thing to come from this.
One way or another, our killer wasn’t a female werewolf.
The killer wasn’t even alive.
If that wasn’t enough to stay the Senate vote, I wasn’t sure what would be. Glancing at Maddy out of the corner of my eye, I wondered what her response would be if Shay and the others really did start making their way here.
The only way to prevent them from trying to claim her by force would be for me to reinstate our pack-bond, but I wasn’t sure she’d want that, either. The reasons she’d had for leaving were still reasons. Lucas was the elephant in the room, even now, one that made the already crowded quarters that much more claustrophobic.
If Callum could call off the rest of the Senate, I wouldn’t have to press the issue. But if he couldn’t—
I tried not to think about it, tried not to ask myself what the right thing to do would be, if she didn’t want me in her mind, but giving her what she wanted put her—and her baby—at the mercy of men none of us could trust.
And if the baby really was female …
That wasn’t supposed to be possible. It wasn’t possible for human mothers carrying a werewolf child, and it wasn’t possible for female Weres. Girl pups never made it to term. Not on their own.
But Maddy was different. The same way that I was different, the same way that Lily and Phoebe and Sage were different. They were werewolves, but they’d been born human. They were Resilient. Maybe Maddy’s baby wasn’t a girl. Maybe she was wrong. But if she wasn’t, and the other alphas found out about it, my pack would be even more in their sights than it was now. Having a surplus of female werewolves was bad enough. Having girls in my pack who might be able to give birth to female pups—whatever alliances were brewing in the Senate, whatever plans Shay was cultivating, the second they got wind of it, the onslaught and machinations would increase tenfold.
For most of the Senate, there probably weren’t many things that would be worth risking Callum’s wrath—but that might be one.
Borrowing trouble? Chase’s voice was calm in my mind, and I wondered how he could just look at me and know.
Am I that obvious? I asked.
There was a sound halfway between a snuff and a snort, more animal in my mind than it would have sounded out loud. You are trouble, he said. It’s part of your charm.