Page 37 of Depraved
It’s time for the shifter part of the funeral to begin.
10
BLACK
The gong ringingout across the field gives me an excuse to break away from the conversation I’m having with a brisk nod.
“It’s time,” I say.
The shifters I’m talking to don’t even balk. An older couple who lost their son in the blast bow their heads as soon as the solemn sound rolls over the field of fresh-cut grass, mown just for this occasion.
When the woman looks back up at me, her eyes mist, and she says, “You honor us, Alpha.” Her fist comes over her heart, a tissue clutched in her hand and bedraggled with all the tears she’s already shed. More start to come as I turn and stride off in the direction of the giant tree looming a hundred yards away.
I only have to pass through a few pockets of people who quickly scurry out of my way. The three hundred or so shifters who came tonight aren’t even a third of the amount that would normally show for a single funeral. I hate that this gathering is so small, but we had to restrict it for security reasons. With a madman and his henchmen on the loose, we have to be careful. Every car that drove in was sniffed and searched.
The relatives who were allowed to come retreat from the refreshment tables and little groups they’d gathered in to speak near the caskets. Instead, they fall back into a single line across the far edge of the field while a small group of designated alphas makes their way forward.
Within seconds, Pluto is at my side, matching my pace as we trod through the grass, avoiding a large mud puddle. Even avoiding it doesn’t help because the ground is soft nearby, and my dress shoes sink deep, the mud slurping at them with every step.
I’m relieved Pluto found me; we need to have an awkward conversation, and I’d rather not have it in front of Elena since it’s about Jonah and likely to make her panic.
I glance over at my second’s profile. He’s slicked his hair back for the funeral, and his clothing is a bit brighter than most people’s, definitely far brighter than mine when I glance at his sleeve versus my own. I’m wearing a pure white suit with a pale-yellow shirt and a white tie. “I hate mourning suits. I feel like a damned cupcake. But you look like a lemon bar. So at least that’s worse.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking. Lemon bars trump cupcakes. Except for strawberry, of course.” He gives a sly little grin. “Are you wearing pink panties under there? Is there a little strawberry surprise inside that cupcake?”
“Fuck off,” I retort, keeping a straight face and fighting a smile, the first one I’ve felt like giving since this disaster of a funeral started.
So many broken families and broken hearts.
Even my two survivors aren’t unscathed. Pluto won’t admit to anything, but I’m pretty sure that the near-death experience has put him on edge. He’s got a distant look in his eyes and, whenever he thinks no one’s watching, his mouth curves down. And he’s subtle about it. He’s still cracking jokes. That explosion has rattled Jonah, rattled him right out of his place in the pack rankings.
There are already rumors about the beta. Ones that I hope he and Elena haven’t heard. Nasty little things floating around the pack. The most prominent of them is that he and Elena married while they were human, and now he’s a cuckold, and I like fucking her in front of him.
While the latter part … is true, the former isn’t going to help him gain respect. I need to think of a solution to get the pack to accept this strange relationship between the three of us, accept it without it undermining my authority or the respect that the pack has for either of them.
But first, I need him to come back to life. I need him to snap out of this cloud of self-pity and uncertainty and be the beta who stood in front of Elena in a ramshackle old farmhouse, the one who fought against alphas knowing he was about to lose, about to die a painful fucking death but not giving a shit. He’d fought anyway. I need that version of Jonah back. Not the broken, hollow man I saw the other night.
I blow out a breath and sigh before I speak. “What I’m about to say is gonna make you think I’m a complete idiot. But I’m your fucking alpha, and you’re going to do it anyway.” I grimace as I stare off at the horizon, taking in the night sky just above the tree line. I can’t make out any stars with my human eyes, but I know they’re there. Just like right now, I can’t scent any Dark Nights sniffing around the funeral for our lost shifters. But I know they’re out there.
Pluto cracks a grin as he adjusts his collared shirt, loosening his lemon-yellow tie and glancing around to ensure no other shifters are close enough to overhear. “With an introduction like that, how could I resist saying yes?” He chuckles. “I’m all for anything that makes you look like a fucking idiot, Black.”
I don’t punch his shoulder because this is a formal occasion and because something is setting my senses tingling. I keep staring and scanning for threats, my wolf and I both tense.
I feel like this would be the time for the Dark Nights to make their move. Little Stone Jr. likes to make statements with his threats. The shifter part of the funeral is the perfect opportunity because several alphas are occupied.
But nothing catches my eye. No strange scent catches my attention. So eventually, I tell my instincts to calm down. Just because I’d attack now doesn’t mean he would. I go back to our conversation and grit out, “I need you to teach Jonah to fight.”
That makes my second turn and stare at me in disbelief, his stupidly handsome face aghast. “Are you fucking serious?”
“He’s not allowed to fight anybody but you. And your goal is to train him to use monster form—”
“Are you shitting me right now? Is this a joke?” Pluto runs a hand through his dark brown hair. A pair of lower-ranked alphas walk by just then, and he pauses in his outburst to give them a quick smile and a nod before he continues in an undertone, “He’s gonna fucking die.”
“Not if you’re a good trainer.” I clap Pluto on the back and then turn and head to a long table set out for the alphas selected for the shifter ceremony. I take up a spot at the end of the long table so that I can shed my suit jacket.
Pluto doesn’t let up and quickly agree. He argues in a whispered undertone. It seems like ever since Elena showed up and started sassing me with her hot little mouth, everybody thinks they can fucking question me.
I swallow a growl as I strip my coat and fold it neatly in half, laying it on the table.
