Circumstances

My life swung out of its rough patch soon after that weekend. Jeremy shelved the college debate, which gave me time to cool down and see that I’d overreacted, jumping to the conclusion that he was getting rid of me. Old fears die hard, I suppose.

In trying to send me off to college he only wanted what he always wanted for me: the best. In this case, that meant the best education possible. I still had no intention of leaving Stonehaven next year, but if I wanted to stay, I needed to stop shouting and throwing things, and come up with a logical argument.

So I set to work researching the matter and within a few weeks developed a line of attack—verbal, nonconfrontational attack. After earning my undergrad degree, I wanted to go to graduate school. My goal was a career in anthropology research, and I needed a Ph.D. for that.

At that level, though, no one really cared where you’d taken your undergrad courses. It was the advanced degrees that counted. Since I had no intention of spending seven years living away from Jeremy and the Pack, it made sense for me to reserve the “good” schools for my grad degrees. As well, that would give me a few years to get accustomed to college life before I ventured out on my own.

When I was ready, I argued my case to Jeremy. He listened, asked questions and then agreed to think about it for a few days. Then he came back with a decision. As long as I promised to go to a top-tier school for my graduate degrees, I could attend undergrad classes in Syracuse.

Nick had his first Change at the end of October. Although Jeremy and I had prepared him as best we could, it wasn’t easy. Yet if it was any less wondrous than he expected, he never let on, never complained.

In the past few years, the question of Alpha succession had gone from back-room rumblings to heated debate, and I’m sure that whenever Dominic walked into a room and heard conversation stop, he knew exactly what was being discussed.

Dominic had now turned over all youth training to Jeremy. He’d also put him in charge of the Legacy—the Pack history book. This latter chore I’m sure he was glad to hand off, and no one else was clamoring for the job, but it still sent a clear message. These were Alpha duties, and everyone took that to mean that any day now, Dominic would officially endorse Jeremy as his choice of successor.

That did not necessarily mean Jeremy would be the next Alpha. An Alpha will back a Pack brother as his choice, but the actual process of ascension was more democratic. Everyone in the Pack endorsed a candidate, and the one with the most power behind him won.

Right now, Jeremy had only Antonio squarely in his corner. Although Jorge, Nick and I also supported him, we were still considered junior members, so our votes carried little weight.

For now, it didn’t matter. Dominic wasn’t going anywhere. When Malcolm “accidentally” swiped the first bite of meat after a Pack deer hunt, Dominic trounced him. The battle was closer than Dominic might have liked, but he won, proving he still deserved to be Alpha.

I eventually hit on a plan to stop mutts from coming to Stonehaven. It wasn’t a simple scheme. It required planning—lots of planning, and lots of research on subjects that weren’t readily available in the local library.

By the time I felt ready to carry out my plan, it was spring. The next problem, though, was that I needed a specific and uncommon set of circumstances. I didn’t want a mutt who was too young and inexperienced, or too old and feeble…or too bright.

The next two mutts who showed up at Stonehaven didn’t fit my needs, so I killed them quickly, disposed of the bodies and continued to wait. Winter came. Another mutt came. That time, Jeremy met him first, and had to deal with it himself. I decided then that I couldn’t wait for my set of circumstances to occur naturally. I needed to create them.

September came and college began. It took time for me to adjust. Change is never easy for me, and something like this, being inundated with new faces, new schedules, new expectations, threw me off balance, making me edgy and moody.

Two weeks into the semester, a teacher scheduled me for a 5:30 p.m. conference, which totally screwed up my routine. By the time I drove back from Syracuse, it was after seven. I’d meant to grab a sandwich at the cafeteria, but was so eager to get home that I forgot.

I arrived at Stonehaven starving. I parked and bolted for the door, certain dinner would be waiting for me. Instead I found Jeremy engrossed in a new painting. The frozen shepherd’s pie he’d put into the oven was still frozen because he’d been so distracted by his work that he’d forgotten to turn it on.

I blew up. Accused him of being thoughtless and insensitive to my needs. A shitty thing to say—and laughably untrue—but I was hungry.

I stormed to the kitchen, grabbed the makings of a sandwich, then decided it was too much work to assemble one and wolfed down the components separately. When my stomach was full, I knew I’d been out of line with Jeremy. I also knew that, given my recent mood swings, if I tried to say I was sorry, I was liable to turn the apology into another fight. So I fixed Jeremy a sandwich and dropped it off outside his studio door with a note saying I’d gone for a walk.

Once outside, I debated working off some energy with a run, but was too edgy to Change, so I wandered the forest, mentally working through an essay I needed to write. I was in the midst of composing my thesis statement when a movement in the trees ahead made me stop short. It was almost nine now, and dark. Though I had good night vision, with no moon overhead to help, I could only make out the shape of a tall, dark-haired man.

As proof of my distracted sense of mind, I never thought to sneak in for a sniff and a closer look. I assumed it was Jeremy and strode forward. When I stepped onto the path, the man wheeled. It wasn’t Jeremy.

“Shit!” he said, jumping as he saw me. “What the hell—?” He stopped, nostrils flaring, then blinked as he realized I wasn’t some neighborhood teen trespassing in Stonehaven’s woods. He squinted in the darkness. “Shit. You’re Malcolm’s kid, aren’t you?”

“No,” I said. “Jeremy’s in the house, and he’s not coming out so don’t bother—”

“Not Jeremy. The other one. The boy. The one Malcolm’s been bragging about. So his phantom foster son isn’t a phantom after all, huh? I figured it was bullshit, since no one’s ever seen you.”

“They see me. They just don’t live to tell about it.”

The mutt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, good one,” he said, but a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes said he wasn’t completely sure I was bluffing.

I sized up the mutt. Jeremy’s age, decent physical condition. Yeah, he’d do. Now I just needed to persuade him to help me set up the circumstances I required.

“You know Nick Sorrentino?” I asked, circling the mutt, making him turn to watch me.

A snort. “What is this? Small talk? I came here to fight, in case you didn’t figure that out, kiddo.”

“Nick Sorrentino,” I repeated. “Do you know who he is?”

“Sure. Antonio’s kid.”

“He’s a friend of mine.”

“Bully for you.”

I stopped circling and leaned against a tree, arms crossed. The mutt visibly relaxed.

“Nick’s got this problem,” I said. “Maybe you can help me solve it.”

“What do I look like? Dear Abby? I can’t solve—”

“Yeah, I think you can. See, here’s Nick’s problem. He’s been a full werewolf for nearly a year, but he’s never fought a mutt. Never even been close to a fight. Antonio and Dominic won’t let him.”

The mutt sniffed. “Coddling the boy, like they do with Jorge. Figures.”

“Well, that’s where I’m hoping you can help. Nick wants a fight, and I want to give him one. Chance to fight the Alpha’s grandson? A sweet deal for any mutt.”

“You want me to fight him instead of you? Uh-uh. Even if he’s a Sorrentino, he’s a pup with no notches on his belt. I’m beyond that. But Malcolm’s protégé?” He grinned. “Now that might be a challenge worth winning.”

“It is. And I’m not trying to take it from you. Here’s the deal. You want a shot at me, bring a friend for Nick. You do have friends, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m sure one of those friends isn’t as experienced as you. He’d be happy for the chance to fight Nick. And he’d owe you one for setting it up.”

The mutt paused, then peered at me. “You wouldn’t be trying to get out of a fight, would—”

I pounced and knocked him to the ground, then jammed my forearm against his throat. “Do I look like I’m trying to blow off a fight?”

The mutt gasped. I eased back, but stayed on his chest.

“You’re good,” he wheezed.

For a moment, I wondered whether I’d miscalculated and scared him off, but then his eyes gleamed with the prospect of the bragging rights he’d earn by beating me. After all, I was just a kid. A decent fighter for my age, but an inexperienced, cocky pup nonetheless.

“Okay, sure,” he said. “I know a couple of guys. Let’s set something up.”

So we did.