Page 31 of The Enemy to the Living
I have the vaguest notion of what Quinn went through, tied in with all the other stories from last year, but as the Hunt, we don’t involve ourselves in supernatural affairs except for where they cross paths with the fae.
“I—They—” Anger fades, and Quinn’s expression is pinched with misery. “After he killed my parents, I couldn’t… That’s why I left. They attacked me in the park, and I couldn’t shift to fight back.”
“Your parents? Tamesis?” The rogue vampire who used fae blood to power his attacks on the vampires and wolves who he thought were in his way. He’s dead now, entirely destroyed, but his actions have lingered.
Quinn nods.
“And who attacked you?”
“My pack.”
Anger flares again, but I breathe slowly, swallowing it down. “Your pack. Here?”
“Here…” Quinn’s eyes widen again. “No. No! They saved me. Drew came and got me. Our other pack—Tamesis or Hale made them come after me.”
Okay. I make sure my grip on Quinn is firm but not tight as I think things over. As long as his pack here hasn’t hurt him, though I’m not certain why they wouldn’t have noticed he can’t shift. Kieran might not have a wolf, but I’ve heard enough talk about how that’s the only thing he’s missing. He and his brother are known for being in touch with their instincts.
How could they have missed this?
“I haven’t told them,” Quinn says, and I’m startled that he seems to know what I’m thinking. “My pack here. I was confused at first, and now… What if I can’t shift again? What if that part of me is gone?”
I can’t help myself. I take Quinn’s face in my hands and look at him steadily. “Does it feel like he’s gone?”
“I—How would I tell?”
My thumb strokes over his cheekbone before I move one hand and press it firmly against his chest, just to the left of his heart. “Here. Do you feel a hollow cavern here? Dark and empty, like you’re missing something you can’t ever get back?”
Quinn whines in the back of his throat but shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You would know,” I say, and my lips twitch in something I hope he takes for a smile. “And it’s normal for a wolf who’s been through so much to have trouble aligning all parts of themselves. It’s normal, Quinn. Fixable.”
Hope claws its way into his expression, and I know he’s trying to fight that feeling because he’s been hurt so much, but I want him to let it in.
“You mean it?”
“I can help you get him back.”
Quinn swallows hard. His eyes shine with tears again, but his voice is steady when he asks, “How?”
I glance past him at the pub and think briefly about Maurice, who has to be close to done with Spectra now. There’s no avoiding it. Quinn will ask questions because he’s a smart wolf, and I can’t answer them out in the open like this.
“Come with me?” I mean to make it a statement, but command fails me, and it comes out as a question.
“You’ll show me—”
“I can explain. Just not here.”
Quinn’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t move out of my hold, though, and I’m grateful for that. “Where?”
“I have a place. We can talk. Okay?”
I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. Underneath all the fear and sadness and anger—I see that too—is a bone-deep exhaustion, and I don’t know if he’ll let me help with that, but I can try.
“Yeah,” he says finally, and that breath I’m holding escapes me in a rush. “Yeah, okay.”
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
