Page 129 of Caelum

I considered them brothers, even if they didn't share the sentiment. Eve was Stefan’s, and I had to go through this shit, deal with her crap, for him. Not for her.

“I've told you what to do,” I growled, trying not to totally lose my patience with her. “You just have to focus.”

She blew out a breath, but I ignored the plea in her eyes and instead pursed my lips, folded my arms across my chest, and waited her out.

Her eyelids fluttered shut, and I watched as her hands balled into fists then relaxed slowly.

There were so many things that boggled my mind where she was concerned. Not only had she somehow gained three Chosen, which should have been impossible, but what shocked the shit out of me the most was the fact she said she had eight souls. Even more than that, she had no control over them.

Now, don't get me wrong, none of us truly had any control over our souls. If anything, they controlled us, but there were things that developed over the years. For my part, I developed them before I'd even come to Caelum.

Every morning, before I rose from bed, I'd close my eyes, and after a few deep breaths, I’d connect with that part of me that housed the souls.

I knew that sounded odd, and to a human, it would. A soul house? It sounded like a shit name for a nightclub. But it wasn't. It was like a pocket in my brain, and the seven creatures inside struggled in the tight space.Over the years, the war had grown fiercer, harder, until the Were had begun to grow, taking over the others’ space and revealing its dominance.

Now, the Were was always there. Even if the Vampire was in control that day, or the Lorelei. Beast was always waiting, and I didn't mind that. I found it rather comforting, in fact.

Over the years, I'd come to learn that this means of connecting with the creatures wasn't unusual. We all developed a kind of safety gate where they were concerned. A means of shuffling in between them and discerning how badly our days were going to be ruined.

But from what Eve was telling me, she didn't have that. She had no barrier. If anything, she didn't really realize which soul was in control until they prompted her to recognize which was which because of their behavior. Or, I supposed, misbehavior was more apt.

Frustrated sounds escaped her while I waited her out, but I said nothing, barely holding onto my own patience until she stomped her foot like a three-year-old and glowered at me. “It isn't there,” she insisted.

“Well, it’s there for everybody else,” I said sternly.

“Maybe it’s different for me,” she argued. “I have eight, remember? Eight.”

“You don't have to tell me again, trust me, it’s right there.” I tapped my forehead. “I’m not about to forget it.” I didn't say the word, but it filtered through my brain anyway—freak.

I didn't even feel guilty for thinking that. All my life, I'd been considered one too. But Eve truly was. The only thing making me protect her was Stefan. If he wasn't her Chosen, I'd have thrown her to the faculty. And that could make me a bastard, but I'd embrace the title because our purpose was more than just looking after some useless, naive cast-off fromTheHandmaid’s Tale.

We had goals before her; we’d had a purpose.

Every year, more Ghouls were being created. In a world of chemicals and processed food, with medication and toxic air polluting the environment, as a species, we were not doing well. More Ghouls, fewer creatures. That meant more danger for humans because there were fewer soldiers around to combat the destruction Ghouls were capable of.

Since I'd come to Caelum, I'd wanted nothing more than to be a soldier.

I knew what it was like to be touched by evil. The Ghoul hadn't killed my parents, acoyotehad done that—and no, I wasn't talking about the dog variety, but the scum who helped Mexicans cross the border into the U.S. for a fee. Thecoyotemy parents had used had slaughtered them when the cartel he worked for had learned he was hauling them across the borderwithout their approval. Which meant they weren't getting their cut, and the bastard had tossed them loose to hide the evidence of his having gone behind their backs.

So yes, I knew what evil felt like, and if I could, I'd spare any child the loss of their parents in such a brutal way. Even if that meant sacrificing an innocent girl.

But this bitch? She was in my way, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it for one simple reason.

She was Pack now.

Fuck. My. Life.

“Stop being a baby,” I scolded her coldly, uncaring that she looked sad. I wasn't her nanny. I wasn't here to coddle her. I was here to keep her alive, and in one piece, because there was no way in fuck she could do that by herself.

In some ways, she made a newborn seem more worldly.

“I'm not. I swear to you, Dre, it isn't there,” she pleaded, but her pleas wouldn’t work on me.

“You'd better start hoping you find it because if you don't, that makes shit a lot harder on us.”

She started gnawing on her bottom lip, and though it made me aware of how very naturally red her mouth was, and how deliciously plump it was too, I ignored the gesture which wasn't meant to be provocative, but was anyway, and stared her straight in the eye. She huffed, but closed her eyes again, and did as I'd asked several times—sought the answer inside herself.

Unfortunately for me, she'd woken up today as a Were—I’d figured that out before she had, of course. Sadly, for the pair of us, that meant her first lesson in how to be anything but a freak had me as her teacher. I just hadn't anticipated that we’d have to start right back at the beginning, though.

---