43
I was driving the van down narrow gravel roads in the dark. I'd insisted on driving because I wanted something to do. I didn't want to just sit and stare out the window. But I was beginning to think I should have let someone else drive, because I didn't seem to be too real yet. I felt light and empty, shocky, but not guilty. Not yet. Thompson had earned his death. He'd raped Richard's mother. They'd tortured Richard's mother. They'd raped Daniel. They'd tortured Daniel. They all deserved to die.
Jamil and Nathaniel were in the back of the van with Roxanne and Ben. The lupa would not be left out of the fight, even though she'd had to be carried out to the van by her bodyguard. I didn't have time to fight with Roxanne, so she got to come.
Jason and Dr. Patrick got to ride up front with me. Zane and Cherry had been sent to the lupanar to get Richard and the rest. But we weren't waiting. I didn't trust Niley not to get creative. No, I didn't trust Linus and his master. How much control did Niley have over his pet psychopath? They'd already raped them. What else had happened to them by now? Niley had no rules. I knew that.
I was gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurt. The headlights cut a golden tunnel through the blackness. Trees crowded the road so close that they scraped at the van's roof with thick, clawing fingers. The trees seemed to squeeze down around us like a fist. The headlights glowed over the dirt road, but it wasn't enough light. It would never be enough light. There wasn't enough light in the world to chase away this darkness.
"I can't believe you did that," Patrick said. He was on the far side, pressed against the passenger-side door as if afraid to get too close to me.
Jason was in the middle. "Let it go, Patrick," he said.
"She chopped him up like an animal, then she shot him."
This was the third time he'd said pretty much the exact same thing.
"Shut up," Jason said.
"I will not. It was barbaric."
"I'm not having a good night, Patrick. Drop it," I said.
"The fuck you say," he said.
"Thompson was screaming, in pain," I said.
"And you killed him," Patrick said.
"Someone had to finish it," I said.
"What the hell are you talking about? Finish it!" His voice was rising, and I was beginning to debate how angry Roxanne would be if I shot him. After what I'd already done tonight, it didn't seem like such a big deal.
"How long have you been lukoi?" Jason asked.
The question gave us a moment of surprised silence, then, "Two years."
"And what's the rule about hunting?" Jason asked.
"Which one?"
"Don't be coy, Patrick," Jason said. "You know which one."
Patrick was silent long enough that the only sounds were the whir of the engine, the wheels on the road. The van rocked softly over the rutted road. Was it just my imagination or was there a sound underneath the engine's roar, a high, keening, scream? Naw, my imagination. My imagination was not going to be my friend for a while.
Patrick finally said, "Never begin a hunt unless you mean to kill."
"That's the one," Jason said.
"But this wasn't a hunt," Patrick said.
"Yes, it was," Jason said. "We just weren't hunting the deputy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
I answered, "It means we're hunting the people in that house."
Patrick turned a pale face to me in the dark. "You can't mean that we are to kill all of them. Only one man cut off her finger. Only one man is guilty."
"They watched. They did nothing to prevent it. It's the same as doing it in the eyes of the law," I said.
"You are not the law," he said.
"Oh, yes, I am."
"No, you're not. Damn it, no, you are not!"
"Anyone who harms the pack without just cause is our enemy," I said.
"Don't quote pack law to me, human."
"How do we deal with our enemies?" I asked.
Jason answered, "Death."
"Most packs don't hold to the old laws anymore, and you both know it," Patrick said.
"Look, Patrick, I don't have time to explain it all, so here's the Reader's Digestversion. Niley and crew raped and tortured Richard's mother and brother. We are going to kill them for that. All of them."
"What about Sheriff Wilkes and his men?"
"If Thompson helped rape Richard's mom, then he wasn't the only one. Anyone who touched either of them is dead. Do you understand that, Patrick? Dead."
"I can't do it," he said.
"Then stay in the car," I said, "but shut the fuck up or I'm going to shoot you."
"See," he said, "see, your conscience is bothering you."
I glanced at him huddled in the dark. "No, my conscience isn't bothering me. Not yet. Maybe later. Maybe not. But now, tonight, I don't feel bad about what I did. I wanted Thompson to hurt. I wanted to punish him for what he did. And you know what, Patrick? It wasn't enough. It will never be enough, because I killed him too fucking quick." Tears were threatening at the back of my throat again. When the numbness and anger wore off, I was going to be in trouble. I had to hold onto the adrenaline, the rage. It would see me through the night. Tomorrow, well, we'd see.
"There had to be another way," Patrick said.