Page 92 of A Wolf in the Garden

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After an hour of tearing up and down the hallways in the house, bouncing on ‘their’ beds — which we hastily covered in overpriced superhero themed covers this afternoon — and scoffing down a very late dinner, Ronan and Ash finally pass out, each one slumped on either side of Lacey, sandwiching her in place on the couch. I sit opposite her, on Van’s lap in the single-seat recliner, and Lacey shakes her head at me. “See? I told you they were full of energy.”

“They’re lovely.”

She looks down at them both with the same reverence I’ve seen on Bronte’s face a thousand times, every time she ever looks at any of her children. “They are.”

Empty plates and glasses litter the coffee table. Everyone was starving, and the food we stocked up on definitely didn’t go to waste. It’s past midnight — more like 3AM for these people, having come from California — and everyone looks exhausted. Van was right, I guess, in that itisdifferent, seeing everyone post-Unravelling. I’m not used toallthe golden eyes, or the sheer size of everyone. Van’s presence is always a lot simply because he’s so big, and while I find his charismatic energy and the raw power he exudes wonderfully, deliciously good, times that by four other adults and suddenly the large room seems very small and almost suffocating.

“So we’re staying in the other house?” Seth asks from his seat on the floor, looking to Van with the same slightly hesitant expression he’s worn all night. That’s the other thing that has been strange, observing them all together, now that I know all about the pack politics that are at play in the background. Van’s an alpha,notSeth’s alpha, but still someone instinctually intimidating to him, from what I can tell.

“Yeah. I’ll get you the key.”

“Wait,” Bronte interjects, before Van even starts moving. “Before we do anything else, let me check the ward on Ellie first. That’s the whole reason we rushed here, after all.”

Van glances my way, checking in with me silently, and I nod. “Of course. I hate being a burden.”

“No, not at all,” Bronte replies, moving to sit on the armrest of our chair, taking one of my hands in hers. I’ve avoided Weston’s gaze for most of the night, but I catch his eye now, and the memory of his wolf tearing through the flesh of the deer hits me again, making me shudder.

“Are you afraid of me?”

They’re the first words he’s said directly to me in nine years.

“No,” I answer, exhaustion making me more blunt than usual. “Iwasscared, on the beach ten years ago, and that feels like it happened yesterday, to me.” I shrug. “There was a lot of blood.”

“There was.”

I nod.

“You were lucky Bronte and I were going for a walk at the time. I don’t know what you were thinking, being out there alone,” he continues, his tone a mix of condescension and concern. “What kind of teenage girl swims by herself in the dark?”

“It was sunset, not dark,” I retort, feeling defensive.

“You know New Zealand is different,” Van jumps in, his voice more authoritative than I’ve ever heard it before, and his hand grips my knee firmly. “Was I happy to hear she was out there alone, when she told me what happened? No, of course not, but you can’t judge her sense of safety by your cultural standards and you know that. Small-town New Zealand is different.”

“Bad things happen everywhere, Evander, regardless of location.”

“Well obviously we all knowthat.”

Van’s statement hangs in the air between us all, oppressive and sad, and the room is silent save for the soft snoring of Lacey’s boys.

Lacey sighs, closing her eyes, head leaning back against the couch. “Can we please just get on with it, so we can all go to bed?”

“I’ve already done it,” Bronte says, releasing my hand. “It’s fine. We’ll practise more magic in the morning. Van, honey, get us the key to that house so we can sleep.”

* * *

Istand next to Van on the back deck of his house, sipping my tea and watching three huge black wolves prowl around the vineyard. Like us, they’re enjoying the morning sun, running up and down the rows of vines like massive playful dogs. Van pointed out who was who, but it was easy for me to tell, even without his explanation; both Lacey and Seth look similar to Van’s wolf in that they have a patch of white fur down their front, whereas Weston’s coat is all one colour. Both Ronan and Ash run barefoot through the fields, chasing and being chased by the wolves, squealing happily every time they’re playfully growled at or licked.

“It’s a good thing you’d already planned for Lost Moon to be closed this week,” I say quietly.

“Yeah. It’s fortunate timing, that’s for sure.” Van had arranged to close Lost Moon on this day weeks ago, wanting to avoid a repeat of the curious crowds in those final hours before his werewolf transformation. It just happened to work out that it’s also time to do the internal renovations of the buildings, and so Lost Moon won’t be opening for another eight days, allowing time for Kaito and his crew to transform the restaurant and entertainment space.

I rub the bare skin of Van’s back. He’s wearing my favourite outfit; grey sweatpants and nothing else. “You don’t want to join them?” I ask, nodding towards the wolves.

“No,” he answers with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to push it. Now that Lacey isn’t in their pack, you can see the tension in their interactions, especially because she’s protective of her pups. See, watch.”

He’s right. Seth steps just a tad too close to his sister, and she snarls at him, forcing him to backtrack up the row he just ran down.

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