AgathaHart
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Grayscale Ch9
🕑 Added 2016-10-28 12:52:47 +0000 UTC So my school schedule got pushed back thanks to Hurricane Matthew, so I've gotten far ahead in two of my three courses (like, finished all my reading and almost all the class reading (also three courses at this school 15 credit hours, I promise I'm not blowing you guys off for 9 credit hours)). So now the time I spend taking a break from drawing can go toward updating here and working on Theseus and the Beast. :)*****
It was only mid-afternoon, so Koz thankfully got ahead of traffic as they left Burgess and made for Mr. Qwerty’s. Jack was quiet the whole way. Koz was used to the cold shoulder—he had an adolescent daughter after all—but getting snubbed over no extra piercings wasn’t quite the same as ‘I’m hurt and angry that you plotted my death’.
Koz wasn’t sure how to fix this. The most he could do, he figured, was protect Jack’s family. If Tooth were here, she’d probably point out that he was acting as though saving Jack’s family was a do-over for failing to protect Jack. He was cool-headed enough to think it; he was self-aware enough to admit it. He wanted to save Jack’s family not only because it was his job as a hunter, and not just in a vain attempt to win Jack’s forgiveness, but also to redeem himself for his previous failures.
They picked up supplies at Koz’s storage locker and then headed for the Whitestown grocery for food supplies. They still had their groceries from the other day, but unfortunately most of it was canned goods, which would last a while, but weren’t very useful on stake-outs. All the rest of it required preparation or had too strong a scent to risk using in a situation where you needed to avoid being detected by anything with a keen sense of smell.
They spoke little. Jack was thoughtful—Koz was too.
Removing Jack’s family from the situation was a short-term solution. If the wolves were truly committed to causing the family harm, they could track them with relative ease. Koz tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he considered of all the ways they could fool any pursuers—sticking to crowded places, disguising their scents with perfumes and the like, switching vehicles regularly, and so on.
But even then, it would be hard for Jack’s family to drop everything and leave forever—it would be better to move them temporarily then implement a long-term solution, like kill Manny.
Koz sighed. If Manny were easy to kill, it would’ve been done before. For now, he was hoping they could monitor the situation. It could be the wolves wouldn't come back again and he was worrying for nothing. He highly doubted that was the case, but he could hope.
He parked the Mystery Machine in the grocery store car park and the two got out in silence.
Perhaps they could discover what Manny’s plans were through Jamie? The boy was obviously hesitant about what the Czar was doing, and he and Jack seemed to have some sort of bond. If only he’d asked more about it when they’d spoken together! He’d been so distracted after they first saw Manny, then he’d tried to force himself to forget, going to that party . . .
The party. It seemed extraordinary, but Koz had almost forgotten the massacre. Sometimes his skills in compartmentalizing were more than a little alarming.
They walked through the store’s automatic doors into the foyer, passing the same line of newspapers as the day before—and it was astonishing, really, that it’d only been that long—and there on the front page, read: ‘Massacre at Claussen Campgrounds, 9 Dead’.
Jack followed his gaze before he could look away.
“Whoa,” he said, finally breaking his silence. “We were right near there!”
Koz winced. “We were exactly there,” he said. “Manny attacked that party we crashed.”
Jack’s head whipped around to face him, his eyes wide. He stared at Koz silently a moment, seeming to process the older man’s words. “Th-those guys—those kids are dead.” He spoke not to Koz, but to himself, as if he were trying to grasp the concept. “Why?” He looked up at Koz, eyes wide with shock, terribly young.
Koz glanced around, feeling strangely ashamed. This was a bad idea. Jack was in such a vulnerable position right now, he should’ve known better than to—
“It was my fault,” Jack said suddenly and Koz started. “I was the one who wanted to go to the circus and the party—I practically brought the wolves to them!” The young man looked away, running both hands through his hair, face drawn and pale.
Koz shook his head. “No-you couldn’t have known. I shouldn’t have taken you to the party after Manny saw us—he hounded you for so long, I should have realized he wouldn’t just let us leave like that . . .”
Jack was breathing rapidly. Koz feared he would have a panic attack—or maybe be sick. Koz nearly had a breakdown the first time someone died indirectly through his own actions, now he was unfortunately used to that burden of responsibility—he didn’t like it, but it was familiar. Jack wasn’t used to the feeling. Koz stepped forward and reached out for Jack’s shoulder before he thought better of it and let his hand drop back to his sides.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Koz said evenly. There was a slight squeal behind them as the grocery store’s automatic doors opened. The two of them fell silent as another grocery store patron walked past, totally absorbed in her phone.
Koz took a deep breath and continued on in a quieter voice: “It’s Manny’s fault. He thinks because werewolves are violent we must let ourselves be violent—he could have followed us without harming any of them, but he chose to kill them for no other reason than that he could.”
Jack’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. “But he wouldn’t have been there if he weren’t tracking us.”
“Yes,” Koz admitted. “But he very well might have killed some other people someplace else! It’s not—it wasn’t like your car accident, where you wouldn’t have been hurt if one person weren’t involved—it wasn’t an accident. He wanted to hurt them, we merely offered a setting.”
Jack bit his lip. “What about my family?” He wrapped his arms around himself and fixed his gaze on the dirty floor tiles. “I’ve already lead his pack to them—what if they get killed just like those campers?”
“I won’t let that happen.”
Jack’s gaze snapped up from the floor to Koz’s face. “That’s what you said to me before I got bitten!”
Koz winced and glanced behind him. One of the cashiers was giving them a dodgy look, but they weren’t close enough to overhear. “I know,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I mean it as much then as I do now. I’ll figure out a way to make it work this time.”
Jack gaze didn’t soften. He took a step back. “And what if you fail?” Ha asked, voice cold. “What if you don’t save them and they get turned like me? Will you kill them?”
The honest answer was that he wasn’t sure. A whole family of werewolves was a huge liability. Plus from what Koz knew, Jack’s father wasn’t exactly a trustworthy person. He didn’t know many werewolves that could co-exist peacefully amongst humans—but then, that was most likely because all the werewolves he’d known were the ones who caused enough problems to catch a hunter’s notice. But Jack didn’t want to hear all this, so Koz simply said. “I won’t.” Then, because he knew his word meant little to Jack now anyway, he added: “Even if I tried, I’m confident you could stop me.”
Jack nodded as if to say ‘damn right, I’d stop you’ before turning to look at the newspaper one last time. He frowned, once again reminding Koz of a frightened child, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get what we came here to get and leave.”
Koz frowned and nodded. “All right.” He let Jack have one last look at the article detailing the camper’s massacre before he led him away. Koz had been truthful when he said it was Manny’s fault—but he could have done more to prevent it, so he was also responsible. Unlike Jack however, Koz was a little more used to handling such an emotional burden. Those nine campers were just nine more souls to haunt him on lonely, dark nights—the same as he’d been haunted by his failure with Jack. He took a deep breath and tried to recall what Tooth always told him when things got bad like this. ‘Move on. Do better.’ He would do better. He would save Jack’s family.
***
After a hasty, late lunch, they dropped off the van at a local parking lot and carried their things back to Jack’s house. People were starting to come home now and Jack was glad Koz had grabbed a spare jacket at Mr. Qwerty’s for him to wear. The leather was heavy and unfamiliar, but it had a hood so he could at least hide his face.
They snuck into the forest and made their way to the stretch of woods behind his house. The house seemed empty. Jack couldn’t remember what the calendar had said—perhaps his sister had soccer practice, perhaps his mother was meeting with their lawyer—he didn’t know where they were. They weren’t at his house, and neither, thankfully, were Bunny and North.
Jack’s mind wandered as they made their way over fallen branches and dead leaves. The day was cool, but not enough that his leather jacket wasn’t overly warm. He barely noticed though. He kept remembering the faces of the kids from the party.
He hadn’t even gotten phone-number guy’s name and he very well might’ve been killed. Nine dead. There definitely had been more than nine people at the party—had the others not been there, or had they survived with only a bite for their trouble?
Koz walked ahead of him, searching the tops of the trees the nearer they got to Jack’s house. Finally he seemed to find one to his liking. He set down and began arranging the heavy bags he’d taken from his storage locker. Opening them, he pulled out lengths of rope and nails.
Jack stood by, still lost in thought. He could imagine crawling into his sleeping bag after a long party—sleepy, drunk, and full, tired from a night of excitement and laughter—only to wake to the screams of his friends as pale beasts of teethandblood leapt out of the darkandpain-rippinghisworldtopieces.
“Jack?”
Jack was snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Koz’s voice. He realized he was breathing heavily, hands clenched at his sides. Koz was looking at him with such care and concern. A few days ago Jack might have been tempted to let Koz wrap him in his arms and reassure him until Jack started to believe everything would be okay. But Jack couldn’t do that now—he wanted to—but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be like his mother—cowering from his father one moment and snuggling next to him on the couch the next.
“I’m fine,” Jack said. “What’s up?”
“Our camp sight.” Koz pointed at the boughs of a massive oak Jack had fond memories of climbing.
Jack looked up, incredulous. “We’re staying up there?”
“I’m setting up a tree stand.”
“A what?”
“Like a hunting stand up in the trees,” Koz said. “It’s less likely we’ll be spotted—by humans or wolves. Nobody remembers to look up.”
Jack glanced at the tree’s thick branches. “Hide over their heads, huh? Like Spiderman.”
“Exactly.” Koz smiled in that strange way of his—not quite smiling, but giving off a sense of fondness just through the slightest change at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, things were as they had been. Jack made some silly pop-culture reference, Koz gave a sardonic reply, and then they moved on.
Jack took a step back, biting his lip and running a hand through his hair. “So how do we do this?” He asked.
The tree stand was a small metal platform that hung off the side of the oak’s thick trunk. They took turns between setting up the stand or bringing supplies—both of which involved a lot of climbing, firmly wedging themselves between tree branches, fending off late-season insects, and prayer. Lots of prayer. It would almost have been fun—like setting up a secret fort—but for the reason why they were building it.
Occasionally they’d rest and discuss how they could get Jack’s family away. Much as Jack disliked it, it more and more seemed likely that they were going to have to lie. He didn’t mind lying once in a while, but the situation seemed desperate enough that he should just be honest. At the end of the day though, no matter what they said to get his family to leave, if they managed it they’d likely end up wanted criminals, leaving behind all they had and knew. Much as the stakeout felt like treading water, the alternative seemed too confusing and complicated to act on.
Jack’s mother came home not long after they’d finished setting up the tree stand. She was dressed sharply, definitely a meeting with the lawyer then.
Koz and Jack hauled themselves up into their hiding place and settled in. Some of the tree’s leaves were starting to yellow, but thankfully the foliage was still clinging to summer and they had plenty of green cover to conceal their presence.
Another news crew showed up and Koz and Jack watched as the neighbors gathered on the sidewalk to gossip and talk to the reporter. It must’ve been a slow day for the local news, but of course every day was slow for Jack’s neighbors.
Jack leaned back in the stand, putting his back to the rough tree bark. Koz copied him, sitting with his legs stretched out before him, feet dangling over the edge of the stand, and his arms crossed over his chest. He put his head down and apparently started napping.
Jack wished he could rest. He was exhausted, not just from setting up the stand, but from the whole day and night’s events. Still, he forced himself to stay up. Evening was setting in and Emma still wasn’t home yet. She must have been at soccer practice, but she should have been done by now.
The lights were on in the kitchen and Jack could just see his mother’s feet as she bustled around the kitchen preparing dinner. He bit his lip. If he were there, he could go pick up Emma while his mother finished dinner. His stomach turned at the thought that his father might be collecting her. The last time Jack’s father had been in charge of picking up one of his children from practice, things hadn’t gone so well.
He needn’t have worried however. Miss Clavel appeared at the side of the house, leading Emma by the hand once more. She must have revved up her old AMC Pacer (affectionately but also spitefully named “The Shit Pile”) and picked up Emma from practice.
Jack was glad, but also uneasy. He didn’t want his father around, but not knowing where he was felt like losing track of a spider—he just felt anxious and uncomfortable, waiting for him to show up again in the worst place.
But he didn’t.
The neighbors all went inside. The houses along the street lit up as the evening wound down. Jack watched his mother, sister, and Miss Clavel, sit down to eat. He wished he were down there with them. They were on a bland food diet to keep their smell to a minimum. As he watched the three below enjoy a warm meal, he and Koz ate carrots and protein bars.
He watched Miss Clavel start across their yard, heading back home. A van pulled up to the curb just in Jack’s line of sight. A sign on the side read ‘Claussen Animal Control’. What were they doing here?
Evidently, Miss Clavel was wondering the same thing. She approached the driver’s side and waited patiently as the person inside rolled down the tinted window.
Jack’s eyes widened to see North smiling at his neighbor. He couldn’t hear what he said, but judging by his face, it was something comforting but professional. Miss Clavel seemed satisfied at least. She started on down the street.
Just before North rolled up the window, Jack caught sight of Bunny in the seat next to him. Neither of them got out. The minutes dragged by and the van didn’t move.
“Looks like we aren’t the only ones doing a stakeout,” Koz spoke, making Jack jump. “The good thing about them being here, is that we don’t need to move your family immediately. Between the four of us, we should be able to protect them.” He yawned and stretched his neck and arms. On cue, Jack realized how uncomfortable he was. He followed Koz in stretching.
“Of course, the bad part about them being here is we can’t move your family immediately.” Koz finished stretching and let out a long breath. “If you try to approach your family with them watching you’ll definitely catch their attention. Based on what we heard earlier, they suspect you of killing those campers, so you certainly don’t want to show up and tell your family you’re a werewolf until they’re gone.”
“When will that be?” Jack asked.
“I’m not sure,” Koz admitted. “Perhaps until you are no longer a suspect. Or until another lead draws them away . . .” he trailed off.
Jack frowned. He was scared as hell to be reunited with his family, but he also wanted it more than anything and he didn’t appreciate another delay.
Koz nudged him. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This may complicate things, but we’re better off than we were. Your family is in good hands.”
“Because they weren’t before?” Jack snarked.
“Well,” Koz said with a wince, “they’re in more good hands. We can watch the back of the house while they watch the front.”
Jack looked at Koz, eyebrow raised. “But they don’t know we’re here.”
“It might be tricky to explain everything to them,” he said. “Especially since they suspect I’m going mad.” It was getting dark beneath the cover of the trees, but Jack could just see Koz’s frown. It wasn’t his usual, resting-face frown; he was genuinely troubled. “I’ve heard the theory before, but never anything for sure. It doesn’t help that I don’t know any non-aggressive werewolves. All the ones I’ve gone after were dangerous.”
Jack shook his head. He was worried about it too, but he’d decided that in this situation he was going to cling to denial as long as he could. “I don’t think it’s true,” he said. “Jamie made it sound like he’d been a werewolf since his sister was a baby, and he’s not crazy.”
Koz gently pushed a beetle away from himself along the platform floor. “He was definitely part of that massacre on the campers though,” he said at length. “When Manny showed up, Jamie was there with his sister and they smelled like . . .” His eyes found Jack’s and he fell silent.
Jack swallowed, drawing his knees to his chest. He hadn’t realized . . . or perhaps he’d just ignored the likelihood that Jamie was involved. He’d thought he had something in common with Jamie. They both wanted to protect their little sisters and keep their family in one piece. Jack had thought he could understand Jamie’s drive to go to great lengths to accomplish that, but now he wasn’t so sure.
He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked at Koz out of the corner of his eye. “If either of us is going to start going crazy, it’ll be you first.”
“I know,” Koz said darkly, his lips pursed. “If I really start to change like that, I will kill myself and if I can’t do it . . .” He looked sidelong at Jack. “You could give me a little payback for trying to kill you I suppose. I can damn near guarantee you won’t fail if it comes to that.”
The thought made Jack’s stomach turn. He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m that pissed about it,” he said.
“My point is,” Koz said. “I don’t want to become more of a monster than I already am. Let’s make an agreement—”
Jack blanched. He wasn’t Koz’s biggest defender now, but he still didn’t like the way he talked about himself, and he definitely didn’t want to make some crazy suicide pact with him. “Don’t call yourself a monster,” he said.
“Have I somehow redeemed myself?” Koz sneered. “What makes you say that?”
“If trying to kill me just because I’m a werewolf makes you a monster, then your friends over there are monsters too. And if being a werewolf—even one who’s never hurt anybody—makes you one, then I’m a monster.” He glared at Koz. “So stop it.”
Koz seemed to deflate some, the fight leaving him suddenly. He looked up toward the house, the conversation dropped. Silence fell between them as the sun dipped low and the temperature dropped. Jack let out a quiet sigh. It was going to be a long night.
***
Stakeouts weren’t enjoyable at the best of times, but with things still tense between Jack and Koz, it was downright unpleasant.
Koz spent most of the evening dozing and spacing out. His thoughts bounced between Bunny’s theory of werewolves mental transformation and the sound of North’s voice saying: ‘I caught her crying the other night’. His heart clenched painfully each time.
He’d known this was going to happen. The fear and anxiety she was going through now were nothing compared to the pain she was about to go through. He couldn’t be too angry that North had revealed him to be a werewolf; it might give her time to adjust before she got his letter. Maybe, after she’d already adjusted to the idea of him being a werewolf, she’d be able to understand a little better why he’d run off to kill himself.
Except he wasn’t doing that now, was he? He was going to stay alive and look after Jack while staying away from Seraphina. That way she’d be safe and Koz could ensure Jack did no harm. But . . . he was tempted. Maybe he could write to her? Or phone her? All he’d need to do was check in with Sandy and the letters he’d written would get tossed out. Then he could give North a call, explain the arrangement to him and be a bloody phone-in father for the rest of his life.
He bit his lip. Would it be better to be a phone-in father than a presumed dead father?
And then he doubted he could keep his distance. Even if he wouldn’t be tempted to sneak in-person visits (and he would), if North and Bunny thought he might be losing his mind to the point where they suspected him of being the cause of that massacre, they’d very likely do all in their power to hunt him down. Going home or being caught would mean close supervision, possibly even death. He wasn’t sure if North would really try to kill him, but Bunny would. He appreciated it. Even when he’d been laid up with a silver bullet wound in his shoulder after he got loose, he’d been so damn happy that Bunny was willing to kill him. Now? Not as much.
And even if by some miracle, Bunny let him slide, Jack’s chances were worse.
No, it would be easier for Koz to disappear entirely—though it would be hard for him. He’d simply have to consider the pain his punishment for all the heartache he was about to put Seraphina through—what he was putting her through right now. He was resolved, but his hatred of the resolution left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
“This is so boring,” Jack groaned. “I thought stake-outs would be cooler.”
Koz smirked slightly. “No, they’re mostly about trying not to fall asleep.” He kept his voice low.
Jack wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in his sleeves.
Koz looked towards the house and noticed an elderly woman marching down the sidewalk, bearing a large Tupperware container in her bony arms. He’d seen her leave the house nearly twenty minutes ago and then earlier today, leading Jack’s sister about by the hand. “Who’s that?” He asked, mostly out of boredom.
Jack raised his head. “Miss Clavel,” he said. “Probably bringing over some cookies.”
“Neighborhood busy-body?” Koz eyed the Tupperware she carried and suddenly felt very hungry. He reached for the bag of protein bars.
“Not really,” Jack said with a snort. “More like the neighborhood grandma. She used to be our go-to babysitter. Then she forgot a roast in the oven and almost burned her house down.”
“Good God,” Koz said, watching the tottering woman with brows high. Jack chuckled.
“She’s a nice lady, I used to mow her lawn for her . . .” Jack trailed off, evidently remembering that he wasn’t speaking to Koz.
“Tell me about her,” Koz urged as he unwrapped the bar. “It’ll give us something to do.”
Jack sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “She knows all the kids on the block, so whenever the ice cream truck comes, she buys popsicles for any of the kids that aren’t there. When I finally got home from the hospital, she brought over a whole bag of popsicles she’d bought for me. That and the phone number of the guy who mowed her lawn while I was away—he was a babe.”
Koz’s eyebrows rose. “She got you a date?”
“She got me laid.”
“Oh my God,” Koz choked on his protein bar. When he’d finally managed to swallowed properly he spoke: “She doesn’t look the type to be a wingman.”
“She’d always get me the numbers of gay guys she met. She was the only adult I ever came out to so she thought it was like . . . her mission to help me find the right guy.”
Koz smirked. They could more or less see into the kitchen. Jack’s sister set plates on the table while the old woman—Miss Clavel—set down the Tupperware. He could tell by the misting on the plastic that the cookies inside were freshly made. He wrenched his thoughts away from warm, homemade food.
“What about your family?” He asked. “Do they know?”
Jack laughed a tired, bitter thing. “Are you kidding? They had enough to worry about besides my sexuality. I didn’t know how my parents would react either and . . . well there are normal families out there that kick their kids out for being gay—what could possibly happen in a screwed up family like mine?” His fingers traced the lines of the stand floor. “I kind of just thought I’d ignore all that until after I graduated, got a job, got my own place, and got custody of my sister.”
Koz was quiet a moment. He didn’t want to point out that a lot of parts in that plan were unlikely even before Jack had been bitten—they were next to impossible now. He crumpled the empty protein bar in his hands. “A plan like that would take a long time to implement,” he said finally.
“I know,” Jack said. “I did research. Even if I went to college and got a nice job, it could take years to get my own place and get my sister out. Plus I probably won’t be getting into college. Since my accident, I don’t really have a chance at the track scholarship I was hoping for. On the bright side, I won’t have crippling life-long debt. On the downside, it’ll take even longer and be even harder to get my sister out.”
Koz looked back at the house and watched the family and their neighbor tuck into their dessert. Even from so far away he could tell they weren’t quite the happy, boisterous group they could be. There was a clipped edge to the smiles they offered one another as they spoke that hinted that a lot of it was just for show. Part of their family was absent, but they were desperate to pretend not to notice.
He thought Jack’s plan was very brave. He also thought it was completely improbable now that Jack was a werewolf. He just didn’t have the heart or the energy to say so. So he switched subjects.
“You’ve mentioned your accident a few times now,” he said, throwing the protein bar’s wrapper in the bag with the rest of their food. “I know you were badly hurt. May I ask what happened?”
Jack frowned, biting his lip. “I suppose you’ve heard enough shit about my family,” he said at last. “You can’t judge us too much more . . .” He resumed tracing the patterns on the platform floor. “So usually my mom picked me up from track after she got off work, but this time she took her friend’s hours and my dad had to come get me. He was drunk—not as wasted as he can get to be, but definitely drunk.” Jack let out a long breath.
Koz got the feeling Jack didn’t have practice telling this story. Even while Jack traced the stand’s floor, his other hand fiddled with the worn fabric over his knees. Koz folded his hands in his lap and watched his companion evenly.
“I know I shouldn’t have gotten in the car,” Jack continued, licking his lips. “But all the kids on my street knew about him and it was so embarrassing, I didn’t want to make a scene . . .” He let out a mirthless laugh. “And there definitely would have been a scene if I didn’t get in the car. The worst thing you can do when my dad’s drunk is tell him he’s drunk. All my friends were in track and they kind of knew about my family but I didn’t want them to actually see . . . so I got in and he ran a red light across state road 37.” Jack gestured feebly towards the highway. “Then we got t-boned by a semi going full speed.”
He held up both hands and shrugged as if to say ‘what are you going to do?’ Then looked away.
Many thoughts were going through Koz’s head: a frightened, parental impatience with Jack for getting in with a drunk driver, a vicious, snarling anger at his father (along with an intense desire to slowly break all of the man’s fingers), but mostly he was in awe. “How are you alive?”
“Grace of God,” Jack laughed and it almost sounded genuine. “I honestly don’t remember much after that ‘cause, believe it or not, getting hit with a semi knocked me out. Also I had a small concussion.”
“Really?” Koz raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, like a tiny one,” Jack said in a voice that hinted it was actually very serious. “Plus some broken ribs, collapsed lung, broken femur, dislocated shoulder, a bunch of cuts, one hell of a bruise on my whole right side, and some very intense whip-lash.” He smiled a little wickedly. “But I had my hood up, so not as much glass went into my head as there could’ve . . . unlike my dad. He hit his head on his window so hard he broke it.”
Jack shifted, his smile sagging slightly as he rested his hands on his knees. “I probably shouldn’t let that make me feel so happy.”
“Well he did involve you in a serious car crash,” Koz said, happy to make a quick judgmental comment on Jack’s father if it would stop Jack from thinking he should feel guilty.
“Yeah . . .” Jack said, unconvinced.
“He could’ve killed you. How did he not go to jail?”
“Also grace of God,” Jack snorted in disgust. “The EMTs forgot to check his blood-alcohol levels. Pretty much the entire time I was in the hospital he was trying to get clean but obviously that didn’t last.” Jack looked away, face thoughtful. Koz held his silence, thinking the boy was going to say something. He wasn’t disappointed. Jack’s brow drew and he frowned. “I’ve never really thought about it but he could’ve killed me.”
Koz tried not to feel exasperated. When he was a police officer, he’d been called to enough domestic disturbances to know how abuse victims downplayed the severity of their injuries, even if they didn’t mean to. “You hadn’t thought that?”
“I mean,” Jack licked his lips, “I thought ‘I could’ve died!’ but didn’t really think ‘he could’ve killed me!’” His frown deepened. “And I lost my chance at a track scholarship because of that. So he almost killed me, but he succeeded in fucking over my future.”
“Didn’t you get lost in the woods in the first place because he chased you?” Koz said, raising an eyebrow.
“I did!” Jack pressed his hands against his eyes. “Oh my God, I’m a werewolf and it’s partly my dad’s fault!” He lifted his head and looked upward. “God, he’s such a- a—“
Koz twiddled his thumbs. “Tit?”
“—Fucker, but thanks.”
Koz nearly smiled. “Don’t mention it.”
Jack looked at him with a grateful smile. Then the smile was gone and the young man reached over and pinched his arm so suddenly; Koz couldn’t help the surprised gasp he let out. “You’re a fucker too,” Jack said fiercely. “I just want you to know you still aren’t forgiven.”
Koz’s humor dissolved in an instant. “I promise you,” he said, “I’ll make it up to you. And if you think there’s no way I could, remember that I mean what I say—no matter what it takes, I will make it up to you.”
In the gloom he could see Jack roll his eyes. “That’s exactly what Dad said when I woke up in the hospital.” He shook his head, silently rejecting anything Koz might have been preparing to say. “I just . . . I know we have to stay together, so I want us to move on. But at the same time, I don’t forgive you.”
There was a tight feeling in Koz’s chest; a knot of many different feelings tangled up inside of him. He didn’t want to be compared to Jack’s father, but he was self-depreciating enough that he couldn’t deny he deserved it. The irony that Jack would tell him he wasn’t a monster for being a werewolf and then make him feel like one anyway for acting as a hunter was not lost on him.
Jack was right. No matter how sorry Koz felt, he didn’t deserve to be forgiven.
Tooth’s voice echoed from his memories. ‘Move on. Do better.’
Koz looked Jack in the eye and nodded. “I understand.”
