The emphasis Caroline put on those words was unmistakable. She didn’t trust Griffin, and to her, all Maddy’s story had confirmed was that he didn’t have an alibi for the murders.
“I don’t have a choice,” Griffin shot back, his voice rising, his jaw clenched. “I’m new at this. I don’t know how it works. Most of the time, I’m here, and I can control it, but sometimes, I lose my grip, and it’s like there’s something else out there, just waiting to push me away. I fight it. I fight to stay, to keep Maddy safe, but if my attention wavers, even for a second—”
He looked at Lake. No matter who asked the questions, he always ended up talking straight to her. “It might be easier to stick around now that you’re here, Lakie.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t coax his lips into doing anything more than baring his teeth. “The baby might have brought me back, but she’s not the reason I lingered in the first place. Having you here makes everything feel more solid. It makes me feel real.”
None of this made sense to me. It wasn’t an alibi for the murders. It wasn’t an explanation. It was vague and wishy-washy and—
I believe him, Bryn. Lake’s voice cut off all other thoughts in my mind. We’re connected. I don’t need to be able to smell him to know if he’s lying. He’s not. If he says there’s another ghost, there’s another ghost. If he says he’s been trying to fight it, he’s been trying to fight. And if he says that having me here will help, then I’m damn well going to do whatever he needs me to do.
She meant it, more than she’d ever meant anything in her life, and she was sure. I could feel that certainty bleeding over into my own mind, so overpowering I thought my head might explode.
She was in his mind, and I was in hers. She was asking me—begging me—to let that be enough.
“Okay,” I said, but even as the word left my mouth, I thought about Lucas, about the way Maddy had loved him and believed in him and asked me to let him in. What if I was making the same mistake again? What if being alpha meant that I could never really trust anyone, not even the people I loved the most?
He could kill you, my instincts whispered, from somewhere deep inside my mind. He could kill you all.
“We need a plan in case this thing shows up again,” I said, pushing down my doubts, keeping them from Lake, who would never understand. “Right now we’re defenseless. Caroline tried to shoot Griffin, and the bullet went straight through. We have to assume that weapons wouldn’t have an effect on the other ghost, either.”
If there was another ghost.
Caroline didn’t seem to appreciate being reminded that she’d tried to shoot Griffin and failed, but after a few seconds, she transferred her glare from me to him. “Powers and weaknesses. Yours. What are they?”
Griff answered the question without hesitation. He swiped his left arm at the wall of the cave, and it passed straight through. “Walls aren’t a problem. Neither are doors.”
A look of concentration fell over his face, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. I jumped.
“Solidifying is hard,” he said. His touch was ice-cold on my shoulder. The place where his skin met mine felt numb. “But staying solid is easier if I’m not trying to stay visible at the same time.”
He disappeared halfway through that sentence, and the weight of his touch intensified. Beside me, I could feel Lake pushing down a stab of unwanted panic.
A second later, when her brother reappeared, Lake bit her lip.
“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice small. “Don’t ever do that, Griff.”
“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.