Even if they won’t say it out loud, I know they must miss it. Not the hiding part, but the fact that there was a reason for the hiding. There was a reason for everything we did. Our species has always functioned around the idea that our extermination can happen at any time.
Now we’re just ... doing all the same things when none of the same external factors apply.
We walk down into town together. The big group of all the queens has broken up into these smaller and more manageable ones over the past few days, and I don’t think I’m the only one who prefers it this way. The older queens, like Deirdre, prefer each other’s company, and who can blame them? They’ve been around a long time and have seen things I probably don’t want to imagine.
They also seem to take great pleasure in making the younger queens think that their futures are nothing but dire, no matter who the king in question is.
Mostly, I think the older women revel in this small window where they can be mean without any political consequences. I can understand it. I also don’t want to be around it.
The younger queens and I might not be best friends, but we have a lot more in common. It makes the walk into town significantly more pleasant than it would be if Deirdre was with us. I take them along the old trails that wind around the town, trails that used to be cluttered with humans no matter the weather. I show them the view that looks out over the valley, then walk them down into the town itself.
“Rafael is very impressed with you,” says his fated mate, with a smile, as we move. “It’s too bad there aren’t any colleges anymore. I think it would be fun to go to one.”
“There are still books,” I tell her, not letting myself think too hard about what happened to my school and everyone in it. “You might have to look for them, but I’d read every one you can find.”
The way she nods, with a happy light all over her face, makes me think that really, I ought to be grateful that I’ve had all this time to make a difference. However small.
Maybe it really will be my daughters I have to teach first. Maybe it’s these women, who might not accept the lives the older queens do. They might shift things in their own packs. They might be a different kind of inspiration to their own females.
Not to get ahead of myself.
A while later I’m standing outside, enjoying the crisp bite of the weather and letting my queens get themselves coffees and baked goods to their hearts’ content, since so many of them live in territories where there’s no commerce any longer. An old armored truck pulls up on the street beside me. Loudly.
I don’t mean an armored truck like the kinds that used to drive between banks. I mean a truck that’s been transformed to withstand monster attacks of all kinds—by hand, I’m pretty sure.
“Do people tell you how much your whole vibe is like Mad Max?” I ask Winter when she swings out of the driver’s seat.
She’s wearing her usual cargo pants and boots. What looks like a wool sweater beneath the typically Oregon sleek, yet puffy, jacket. Over which, of course, she has that harness she wears, stuffed full of weapons when, surely, she doesn’t need them now.
Not when she’s the oracleandthe vampire king’s consort.
But we all do what we need to do to feel safe.
“They don’t tell me that,” Winter is telling me. “Because mostly, they’re dressed the same way. They can’t let their inner wolf tag in at a moment’s notice, you know. They’ll need a gun within reach.”
“It must be like prison.” I try to imagine it. “To be trapped in one body all the time. No matter what your mood is, you stay the same. No matter if it would make more sense to have four legs and some functional teeth, still, you’re theexactsame. It kind of freaks me out.”
Winter shakes her head at me. “When you put it that way, it does sound pretty gross. On the other hand, not a whole lot I can do about that, is there?”
I smirk at her. “I could bite you. Your man could bite you. So many doors you could walk through, if only you wanted.”
“I’m good, thanks,” she says, and doesn’t do a good job of not making a face.
She leans back against her truck and looks around the cold, festive streets. There are still people out, because this is Jacksonville and this is where people can be out. So unless it’s very early morning, late at night, or literally pouring down rain in buckets, there are always people around. Winter and I both grew up here, so we recognize most of them.
Though they seem a little skittish today.
“Why are the humans so jumpy?” I ask.
Winter slides a look my way. “I don’t know, Maddox. It might have something to do with the cacophony of howling wolves, night and day, all week.” When I only lift a brow, she sighs. “The last time we heard that much howling, it was right after the Reveal and it was ... not good.” She rolls her eyes. “For us, anyway.”
Because many monsters feasted in those days, but the wolves howled about it. And humans can’t understand what the different howls mean, so how would they know that what they’ve heard this week are howls of celebration?
No one at the gathering wants to hear any support for humans. They hunted us for too long. Still, I find myself wondering if there’s any long-term way forward if all we’re doing is playing musical chairs regarding who’s prey and who’s predator.
“Is it my imagination, or are people looking at you?” I ask Winter after a moment. “I mean, specifically at you?”
“It’s not your imagination.” She crosses her arms. “In fairness, I don’t know how I would have reacted a few months ago to hearing that someone I knew had taken up with a vampire. Probably not well. They can’t decide if I’m a monster myself or if I’m just a collaborator with the enemy. Mind you, that doesn’t stop most of them from coming through my coffee line, and not just for coffee.”
