Gideon lifted her to her feet, then swung her into his arms. “Self-recriminations are useless. Let’s get you into the house before you bleed to death.”
“We can’t just leave Bobby lying out here in the dirt.”
“Yes, we can. You can send someone out to look after the bodies. Right now, we need to get you cleaned up.”
Kay swallowed a groan as her aunt washed the bullet wound, doused it with a strong disinfectant, and then bandaged it up tight.
“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,” Kay muttered. “It’ll be healed by tomorrow.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Greta said, tying off the bandage. “The bullet I dug out of you was silver. I don’t want to take any chances on an infection.”
Silver didn’t burn werewolves the way it did vampires, but a silver bullet to the head or the heart was always fatal.
Kay looked up as Gideon and Brett entered her room. “What is it?” she asked, alarmed by their expressions. “What’s happened?”
“Gideon thought we should go out and take a look around.” Brett cleared his throat. “We found another body by the back fence.”
“Killed the same way as the other one,” Gideon said.
Her mouth went suddenly dry, making it hard to ask, “Who?”
“Stewart,” Brett answered. “I’ve already notified his family. We’ll lay him to rest tomorrow night, along with Bobby.”
Kay nodded. She wasn’t ready for this, she thought in despair. She had no experience, no training. Her father had been born to be Alpha, like his father and his grandfather before him. From the day of her father’s birth, everything he had been taught had been with one thought in mind, that he would one day rule the Shadow Pack. He had grown up on that knowledge; it had colored everything he did.
“Anything you need me to do?” Brett asked.
“I don’t know.” Kay shook her head. “I need time to think.”
Greta looked at Brett, then jerked her head toward the door. Brett nodded, and the two of them left the room, closing the door behind them.
As soon as they were alone, Gideon sat on the bed and drew Kay into his arms, careful not to jar her wounded shoulder.
“Go on and cry,” he said. “You’ve had a rough couple of days.”
She shook her head, determined to be strong even though her throat was tight with unshed tears.
“Kiya, everybody needs to cry once in a while.”
“Not you,” she said, sniffling.
“Even me,” he admitted.
She looked up in surprise, her own hurts momentarily forgotten. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it was a hell of a long time ago,” he said with a wry grin. “I was still human at the time, and very young.”
“That doesn’t count,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We all cry when we’re young.”
“I cried the night I woke up as a vampire. Does that count?”
She blinked at him. It had never occurred to her that vampires cried for any reason.
“It’s true,” he said. “I woke up alone in Lisiana’s house, my stomach cramping, my veins on fire. At first, I thought I had to be dreaming, but the pain was too real. She’d told me what to do, how to survive, but she hadn’t told me that I would have to turn my back on everything and everyone I knew. I found that out the hard way, for myself.”
“What happened?”
“I went home. My father was there, alone. The smell of his blood drove me wild. I would have killed him if my uncle hadn’t come in. He stabbed me in the back. The shock of it brought me up short, made me realize what I was doing. I fled the house and never returned. I killed a man that night. I killed him and I drained him of blood. And I reveled in it. And then I sat down by his body and cried like a baby because I didn’t want to be a killer, and I knew he would be the first of many.”
“But you learned to control the urge to kill.”
“In time. But too many others died along the way.”
“What did you do with Lisiana’s house?”
“I still have it. I go there from time to time to remind me where I came from.”
Kay laid her hand on his arm. It was a sad story. Her childhood had been mostly happy. She had grown up in luxury, her every wish granted. She hadn’t had a normal life, but until she moved away from home, it had been a happy one.
“Where were you born?”
“In a small town in France. My parents were shopkeepers.”
“Is that where you were turned? In France?”
He nodded.
“You don’t have an accent.”
“No, I lost it years ago. I left the country soon after I was turned.”
“Did you have brothers or sisters?”
“No, there was just me, and I came to them late in life.”
“And you never saw your father again?”
“No. By the time I’d learned to control myself, he was dead.” Gideon blew out a breath. “Enough about me, love. What are you going to do about Rinaldi?”
What, indeed? she thought. That was the question, wasn’t it? “We’ll take the fight to them.”
“Smart girl,” Gideon murmured. “So, what’s your next move?”
“I have absolutely no idea. I was hoping you’d know.”
“It all depends on whether you want to attack them in human form or wolf.”
“Hmm. I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think we need to do a little reconnaissance over at their compound. See what kind of precautions they’re taking, if they’ve ramped up their patrols. If we can get close enough, we might be able to find out if they’re planning another hit.”
Kay nodded. He was right. They needed to take action. Two of their people were dead. If she didn’t fight back, Rinaldi would take it as a sign of weakness. If it came to a fight, there would surely be more casualties. The thought of going to war was sobering. Intimidating. Frightening.
“You and I should go check things out tonight,” Gideon said.
“Just the two of us?” she asked incredulously.
“We don’t want so many that we’re tripping over each other. We just need to test their defenses, find out if they’ve increased their security.”
That made sense. “Let me change my clothes.”
“That’s my girl.”
Kay changed into a pair of black pants and a black sweater. She pinned her hair up and covered it with a black knit cap, then pulled on a pair of boots.