Mateo Santiago novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: Emilio's Price

I told Mateo about the text before I left, because I wasn't going to keep secrets from the man whose bed I woke up in.

"Go," he said.

"You don't mind?"

"I mind a lot," he said.

"Nico will be in the parking lot with a thermos, and if you raise your voice I'll hear it."

"Wolf hearing doesn't go five miles," I said.

"It goes further when I'm listening," said Mateo.

The diner in Mora had a counter, six booths and a pie case, and Emilio sat in the back one with his face still purple.

His nose had been set badly.

I slid into the opposite seat and ordered coffee from a waitress who had known me since I was nine.

"You look terrible," I said.

"You hit me with a latch," said Emilio.

"I'd do it again."

He tried to smile and winced.

"I don't have long," he said, quiet.

"You gave your father a bad week.

"The Hondo Alpha has been calling the lodge.

"Aurelio's been shouting at everyone."

"Good," I said.

"He's scared," said Emilio.

"I've been his Beta for six years and I have never seen him scared.

"Something's happening, Sofia, and I don't know what, and I don't like being the last to know."

I stirred my coffee and waited.

"I was sixteen when your mother died," he said.

"I was in the lodge that night.

"I saw your father and the old healer carry something up the back stairs to your room, a bowl and a leather strap, and I heard you scream."

"I was twelve," I said.

My hand had gone cold around the mug.

"He told everybody you had a fever," Emilio said.

"Three days.

"Nobody saw you.

"The next time anyone saw you, you'd stopped being able to cry about your mother, and you stopped being able to do anything."

I stared at the table.

I had no memory of three days.

I remembered the kitchen and my mother's hand and a sound, and then I remembered the funeral.

Between them there was white, smooth as a wall.

"Why are you telling me this?" I said.

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