Chapter 8: Mara

Garrick told it in the diner's back booth, with the kitchen door shut.

A cup of tea went cold in front of him.

"Your mother had three mates," he said.

"Three," I said.

"Three men in this pack, twenty-four years ago. Three threads, one woman."

"It was the first time in living memory."

"What was her name?"

"Mara Quill. She took Bostick later, when she ran."

I put my hands flat on the table to keep them still.

"I was the Elder's enforcer then," Garrick said.

"The law said two of her threads had to be cut. He did the cutting."

"I held the men down."

He said it plainly and did not look away.

"Both of them died inside a month. Your mother was holding you at the Moon Stone, and she watched."

"And then?"

"That night I drove her and you to the state line."

"I gave her money and a new name. I went back and told the Elder she'd slipped the guard."

"Where is she now?" I said, and then I heard it. "She's dead. I know she's dead."

"A truck hit her car on a county road, when you were six. I read it in a paper."

His voice cracked.

"I have never believed it was an accident, Lowen. I have no proof."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"If you never set foot on this land, the bond could never wake."

"The Elder couldn't prove it. So I sent my daughter to keep you safe, and I kept my sons far away."

"And tonight?"

"I told Linnea to use the oil." He rubbed his eyes. "She didn't, and I won't blame her."

"I was tired of lying to you."

I stood up.

"I need to walk," I said.

Nobody stopped me.

The pines closed behind me in minutes.

I walked until the diner was gone and the road was gone.

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