Chapter 23

By the time we make it out of Paradise Valley, thanks to the rival pack and the road construction, the sky is the black-purple of a rotting plum. My nose stays wrinkled at the stink of fresh asphalt. Alongside the new road, twelve-foot-tall rock giants shuck their orange safety vests, their granite muscles rippling. Human road workers scurry around them, looking tiny and useless next to the tons of sheer giant-power.

“Wow,” I say. “Those are some huge-ass gic—giants.”

“Disgusting,” Randall says.

I stare at him. “And you’re calling me prejudiced?”

He gives me a death glare. “It’s disgusting how those rock giants are being duped. They’re working for antifreeze.”

“Huh?”

“Antifreeze, not money. So their joints don’t crack when it freezes up in the mountains.”

“Well, I guess that’s a fair trade.”

Randall shakes his head. “If they actually got paychecks, they could afford all the antifreeze they wanted, and maybe a house to go with it. But there are no laws saying you have to pay them minimum wage. Legally speaking, they’re barely even Others. Some people think they should be treated like animals.”

The way he says “some people” makes me think he’d love to rip their heads off.

A rock giant crosses the road in front of us, placing his feet with careful thuds on the soft asphalt. His head swings toward our truck, and his eyes meet mine, just for a second. They smolder red like lava, and I can’t pretend like I don’t see a slow-moving intelligence within them. I shiver and rub the goose bumps on my arms.

We drive onward and leave the rock giants behind.

Thunder grumbles in the mountains, and wind shakes rain from the sky. I can’t stop thinking about Cyn and hoping she’s okay.

She’s doesn’t belong here. How could I forget that? I need to get her out.

Winema gives the order to stop in the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness, at the northern edge of the Montana-Wyoming border. Yellowstone lies to the south, but it’s too crowded for us to spend the night in the park itself without blowing our cover. Even here, there are still some people camping off the road, but we’re going to use them as camouflage to explain away why we’re here. That’s the plan, anyway.

After we make camp and eat a shitty dinner of canned stew and stale bread, most of the pack slips into the foothills, one by one. Left behind, I stand in the windy dark and look at the campers’ flickering lights. They drink their cheap beer and laugh over burnt marshmallows. Hollowness gnaws inside my chest.

“Hey,” Randall says, appearing out of thin air behind me.

I try not to look startled. “Hey. Where’s everybody going?”

“Out for a run. The pack’s been on the road for too long. Want to come with?”

I stare at him. “I’m guessing they’re not running around in human form.”

Randall touches his finger to his lips and glances at the rowdy campers not too far away. “Yeah. You feel up to it tonight?”

I glance at the sky. Retreating rainclouds whisk across the face of the moon. She looks dimmer by the light of campfires.

I shrug. “Where’s Cyn?”

“With Isabella and Jessie, of course.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes.” Randall’s breath fogs the chilly air. “Are you coming or not?”

I grit my teeth. I mean, what can I say? I’m bitten; I’m a walking time bomb.

“Winema talked with you,” he says.

“Yeah. Said you guys would have to kill me if I lost control.” It’s hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Sounds like fun.”

“Brock.” Randall’s eyes glimmer gold. “We have to do this.”

“You think I don’t know that already?”

“Then you’re a coward.” He says it softly, like he’s disappointed, even.

My hands clench into fists. “If you’re trying to get me angry enough to change, it isn’t going to work. I’m not that stupid.”

A corner of his mouth twists. “Oh? Then what’s stopping you?”

Everything. And nothing at all. Everyone knows who—what—I am. I stand there, deaf and dumb, and try to pretend like my eyes aren’t stinging.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” I whisper.

“I can’t.” Randall says, his voice rough. “You know that already, too.”

I want to hit him, to rage at him, but right now I just feel so damn tired.

Instead, I decide to stall for time. “What’s it like, being a wolf?”

“Jesus,” Randall says. “I’m not even going to try explaining.”

“Oh, come on.”

“It’s like trying to describe sex to a virgin.”

Heat rushes into my face. “Hey, it can be done.”

“But it’s not the same. Sooner or later, you’re just going to have to do it.”

I nod, my jaw set. “Bite the bullet.”

“Hey, there’s a fair chance your first time won’t be too bad. You seem to be made of tougher stuff than most people.”

I think of Chris then, and swallow hard.

Randall grabs my wrist and tugs me in the direction of the darkness. “Let’s go.”

My knees lock, and I have to force myself to walk. I don’t know why I’m doing this, or even if I want to. But what else can I do? It’s a wild night. I can smell it, with the scent of lingering rain and sweat and excitement. The farther from the road we go, the brighter the moon becomes. Cold shivers trickle over my skin.

“Rule number one,” Randall murmurs. “When you change, do it in secret.”

We’re high in the foothills now. I feel a sharp ache inside my chest, an emptiness that needs to be filled by something I don’t want. Up here, the cold, clear air tingles in my nose and invites the wolf inside me to uncurl.

Randall begins to unbutton his shirt. “Come on, Brock.”

I’m standing in the shadow of a tree, but he steps boldly into the direct moonlight, his skin gleaming. I sidestep after him, and a shudder ripples through me from my neck to my toes. I gasp and take what’s supposed to be a steadying breath, but the moon isn’t helping—she’s driving me crazy. I need to get out of these clothes.

I mutter at the moon, “Don’t think you can mess with me, bitch.”

“Hey,” Randall says, staring sideways at me. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you call the moon a bitch?”

I grimace, the roots of my teeth itching on the way to fangs. “Maybe I did.”

Randall grabs my shoulder. “You can’t do that. You have to respect the moon like you would your own mother. Okay?”

I glare at him. “That’s bull. You sound like that Frost guy, talking about Luna.”

“Why do you have such shitty relationships with women?”

I fold my arms tight. “That’s really bull.”

“You can’t deny it. You can’t say—”

“The moon isn’t a woman, okay? She’s—it’s—just a lump of rock out in space.”

Randall stares at me sideways. “Yeah, and we’re just lumps of meat who happen to have the power to become wolves. Listen to me, bloodborn. You’re Other now. The moon has a lot of power over our kind, and you have to respect that.”

“Fine.”

My skin itches something fierce and I want to scratch it away in tatters. I’m shaking uncontrollably. Randall still looks calm, though his eyes burn like embers and the beginning of a silver pelt trickles down his chest.

“How do I do this?” I say hoarsely.

“You’ve got to let it happen. You can’t try too hard.”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be trying.”

Randall flexes his hands, his knuckles popping as they shift. “Focus on the wolf inside you, on how it feels. Then let it loose.”

I close my eyes and turn my attention to the tingles building up pressure inside, until all my sensations merge into a sweet, sharp ache. Is that the wolf? Should I feel claws inside my fingertips, a hidden tail at the bottom of my spine? If I imagine hard enough, will it happen? On the full moon, it was all I could do not to change.

“This is ridiculous,” I say. “And why aren’t you changing?”

Randall cocks his head at me. “You first.”

“Show me how.”

He shrugs off his shirt, tosses it into the trees. “You don’t want to watch. I can tell.”

I shake my head. “I do.”

Randall stands on his toes. Hooked claws gleam on his hands. His hair fades to silver and flows down his skin, thickening into a ruff around his neck and shoulders. His nose, eyelids, and lips darken to black. He unzips his jeans.

I’m staring now; I can’t blink. His pelt glistens in the moonlight. So silver.

“Brock.” His voice has become a gravelly growl. “What are you waiting for?”