Chapter 8 – Transcendence

On Paul's fifth day of volunteer work at the old folks' home in Forks (rather tactlessly named Sunset Village), the teen shifter caught a nurse stealing pain meds from a terminally ill resident.

A check of the security cameras revealed that it wasn't an isolated incident; in fact, the bold thief had apparently been helping herself to unattended pill bottles as well as the actual drug lockup for nearly the entire year she'd been working there.

The staff member who should've been routinely checking the footage for such transgressions was discovered to be covering them up and taking a cut of the cash the nurse made from selling the pills. Why the idiot hadn't just erased or replaced the incriminating videos was anyone's guess. (Paul's guess was that the regular sex the nurse had been bribing the idiot with hadn't done his IQ any favors.)

A third possible conspirator, the person who was supposed to be keeping track of the inventory of the drug lockup, was found to be merely incompetent rather than complicit and had the exceedingly good fortune of being fired rather than being perp-walked out the front door to face a shitstorm of legal trouble and lengthy incarceration.

The two actual criminals had apparently already flipped on the person who bought the meds from them (some small-time but well-known local dealer with delusions of becoming a Pacific Northwest kingpin), thereby bumping the tiny drug ring back up to three.

"I'm starting to think you have a future in law enforcement," Charlie remarked as he closed his notebook and stuffed it back in a convenient pocket. He seemed confused and a little suspicious but overall pleased by Paul's recent habit of accidental crimefighting. "First those kids, and now this. That's some kinda luck."

Paul shrugged. It was either complete coincidence or intervention from the spirit world that seemed to put him in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to repeatedly foil accidents and attacks and ongoing felonies—mostly by taking advantage of his supernatural speed, senses, and durability. As long as he got to help people and hopefully impress Ruby, he didn't care either way.

"Speaking of," Charlie continued, looking absolutely exhausted, far more than he had just a few weeks before, "There's a plea deal in the works for Linda Davis." Turned out, that was the name of the woman who'd been slapping poor Curtis around for months while his horrified father had been none the wiser. "If all goes well, neither you nor the kids will need to testify. She'll serve only two to three years rather than five."

Although he didn't like the idea of a shorter sentence for a child abuser, Paul was glad that Olivia and Curtis wouldn't end up on the witness stand. Olivia would probably try to take over the proceedings, and Curtis would be an anxious wreck. Paul himself wasn't entirely confident in his ability to resist phasing in the middle of the courtroom if the defendant or the defense attorney did something especially heinous. "Let's hope the morons in this latest stupidity can make some deals of their own," he remarked.

(The driver of the car that had hit Paul, Amber Wilcox, had already pled guilty and walked away with several huge fines, a suspended license, community service, and mandatory inpatient rehab; rather unexpectedly, her husband and her insurance company were very eager to pay out a sum that would more than cover college degrees and maybe house down payments for Paul and Olivia as long as they agreed not to sue. He was eager to accept the deal, if only for the fact that he was eager to convince Sam to ignore the elders on yet another subject, namely the bullshit about spirit warriors not being allowed to leave the rez for higher education.)

With a weary laugh, the chief agreed, "Yeah, let's hope. I don't want to spend any more time than I have to at the courthouse."

"Well," Paul shot back, "If it happens, we can at least carpool. You'll let me play with the siren, right?"

Charlie snorted, "Do I ever?"

Pouting, the teen complained, "No. Not even when I'm riding up front, which I thought was half the point of not doing the kinda stuff that gets me thrown in the back."

Another eye roll from the chief closed the subject but also drew attention to the stark bags under the man's bloodshot brown eyes.

"You look like shit, by the way," observed Paul. He knew damn well why. With the Cullens gone, the pack was free to patrol around Forks. The nightly screaming fits from the man's mentally disturbed daughter were a real treat for the wolves' sensitive hearing, and Charlie's increasingly desperate efforts to calm her down and draw her out of the hysterics were almost as bad as his efforts to get her to respond to him or anyone else once she slipped back into catatonic depression.

With a deadpan stare, the man replied, "Thanks, kid." Then, he slumped into the squeaky rolling chair behind the desk of the messy office that had been vacated for police use. "Bella's still struggling. It's taking a toll."

Paul nodded. Then, casually twisting back and forth in his own squeaky rolling chair, which honestly felt like it was close to collapsing under his weight, the teen suggested, "Have you considered getting her some professional help? I thought it was all a bunch of crap, but anger management's actually been useful, and there's a lady at the women's shelter I talk to sometimes." Ms. Vance was pretty cool, kind of a combination of a therapist and a sassy aunt and a hard-ass drill sergeant, and even when he told her about what a dick he'd been to Ruby, she never judged him. In fact, just the other week, Ms. Vance had said that she was proud of his progress and the work he was doing to make amends and be a better person. She was especially proud of the fact that he'd already understood that forgiveness wasn't something he was owed just because he put in such efforts. "Sue is probably too close to you, but I'm sure she could recommend someone. And if not, I can ask around."

Sighing, the chief declared, "It's definitely getting to that, but I think I want to give Bella a bit longer to snap out of it. Lord knows I was a wreck after Renee left me, so maybe this is just how we Swans grieve relationships."

Although Paul thought that it was a pretty weak rationalization (and didn't think that the chief had spent months seesawing between hysteria and catatonia), the teen didn't comment further. Instead, he redirected the conversation back to a previous subject: "So, career in law enforcement. How does that work? You guys do internships? Ride-alongs?"

Charlie chuckled and reported, "Any internship would be strictly office-only, but I can swing a few ride-alongs for anyone interested. I'm always surprised that Billy doesn't send more kids my way. Police academy in this state is only seven hundred twenty hours for basic, which is less than five months overall. Being a cop can be dangerous, but it's steady work with good benefits and a lot of room for advancement. And personnel are almost always in high demand all over the country."

Paul hummed his agreement, stating, "Well, I'm not sure it's for me, but there's no harm in checking it out. I think my buddy Jared would be great at it though. He's more the sir-yes-sir type."

Again, the chief laughed, finally standing and stretching, announcing, "I think I'm all wrapped up here. You want a lift?"

"Nah," Paul replied, "My shift's not over for a while. Thanks anyway."

They walked out together, no more discussion required, and said goodbye in the lobby, the chief bundling up and trundling out into the gently falling snow. Paul returned to his various duties, mostly visiting rooms to tidy up and deliver snacks and drinks to the residents and chat with each for a bit; almost all of the residents were very lonely, largely forgotten by their families. He didn't mind the work, really, and the old-timers had some pretty cool stories to tell. Even the ones who were ornery or too sick to speak (and a few obvious racists) seemed to appreciate his presence.

The two major downsides of the assignment were the smells (piss, shit, vomit, blood, death, decay, industrial chemicals, etc.), which were incredibly hard on the shifter's sensitive nose and usually caused a massive headache, and the uniform (mint-green scrubs), which was made of some weird synthetic fabric that was supposedly easy to clean and sanitize but felt gross on his skin. (A career in medicine or anything else that required wearing scrubs for most of the rest of his life was definitely out.)

"PAUL!"

Oh yeah. There was another downside, a recent development that was rapidly climbing to the number-one spot: Dorleesa Cowden and Gay Lake—the infamous Dori 'n' Gay, also known as the pair of girls who'd been stupid enough to continue bullying Ruby even after Billy's warning and who'd compounded that stupidity by doing so off school property (i.e., in the real world, where assault is a crime). The two bimbos had gotten off lightly after being caught on gas station surveillance committing said crime and had each been assigned two hundred hours of community service. The duo had somehow found out where Paul was doing his community service and proceeded to attempt to sign up at all the same places. Thankfully, Sunset Village had been the girls' only success. (After reading their applications, Ms. Vance had looked genuinely repulsed, and Paul's evaluation of their characters had sealed two big fat hell-nos.) Unfortunately, no matter how many times he changed his schedule to try to avoid them, they always seemed to show up during his shifts.

A visit to HR was in his near future if this shit didn't stop.

"Oh my gosh!" gasped Dori as she and her equally shrill, equally obnoxious friend jogged over to him, sliding into place at either of his sides and leaning in like they wanted to attach themselves to his biceps. (He'd shut that kind of behavior down real quick with firm boundaries and clear consequences.) "I can't believe it! You're, like, a total hero! Isn't he, Gay?"

"Totally, Dori," simpered Gay, batting ridiculous fake eyelashes up at him. (He kind of wondered how the hell she could even see with those things glued to her face, though not being able to see might explain her ensemble of Pepto pink scrubs decorated with lopsided rhinestones and accessorized with various gaudy, mismatched costume jewelry.) "I bet you're gonna get a medal or something from the city! Especially after you, like, stopped that car with your bare hands!"

Paul stared down at them in confusion, wondering if that was the actual rumor going around (unlikely, seeing as the true story had appeared in the local paper and on the local news) or if the girls were just delusional… or if they assumed that he was the sort of guy who enjoyed over-the-top flattery and ego-stroking.

(The last possibility was a little insulting, actually.)

"Anyway," Dori continued, wearing an outfit similar to her friend's, "This place is sooo boring. And disgusting. Old people are just ew, right? We're gonna ditch for a bit to get some coffee at that diner down the road. You've gotta come with!"

"Gotta," Gay agreed. (She had to be part parrot; her eye makeup certainly did seem to favor an unflattering blue-and-green theme, made all the more garish by the false lashes.) "C'mon. None of these rotting vegetables are gonna know we're gone. Most of 'em can't even keep track of what day it is!" She wrapped up the horribly insensitive insults with a laugh like a braying donkey (so she was clearly part ass as well).

Adding her own hyena cackle, Dori hunched over briefly and mocked, "Who are you? Where am I? Where's my husband? Please, I need to go home!" She finished that stellar performance with a loud scoff and, "The only thing I want to do for any of these soon-to-be corpses is put them out of their misery. I'd be doing them a favor, really."

Shaking slightly as his rage began to spike, Paul had to take several deep breaths and run through a few other strategies he'd learned in anger management to keep from shouting or phasing. The rude, callous, malicious girls weren't worth his time or attention. He would not flip out and say or do anything that would jeopardize his progress or his position.

Plus, the morons had obviously forgotten that the facility was covered in security cameras—that Paul had literally just gotten three people arrested via the footage and that Dori 'n' Gay were in trouble in the first place after doing stupid shit on camera.

Paul power-walked right to the manager's office and tattled his flawless ass off.

The looks on the girls' badly painted faces were priceless, and the shifter was pretty sure he wasn't going to be bothered (and stalked and occasionally sexually harassed) at work anymore.

So, yeah, pretty good day.

xxXxx

"I made another sale and got my first commission this week!" Isaac Salt announced proudly as soon as he opened the door, beaming at Ruby as he ushered her inside and out of the snow. "All the way from Denmark! Would you believe that?!"

She offered a delighted smile, which she suspected didn't do much to conceal the fact that she was exhausted and freezing. "Welcome to the global marketplace," the girl chuckled, stomping her boots clean and reluctantly toeing them off, followed by her heavy parka. Even the three thick layers she wore beneath and the balmy temperature in the cozy little house didn't do much to warm her up. Ever since the weather had turned from autumn to winter, nothing had.

Anemia was such a delight.

"It's certainly wild," he agreed, leading her out of the small mudroom and into the living room and then the kitchen. With him, his wife, and their three kids living in a small three-bedroom house, Isaac didn't have the luxury of a dedicated office, but he hadn't let that stop him from putting in all the time and effort needed to get his online business up, running, and very close to flourishing. He was eager to learn and happy to work, and Ruby couldn't help wanting to go above and beyond to ensure that he succeeded. "Here, hun," the man said as he pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table, a small but gorgeous set he'd crafted personally. "Take a seat, and I'll get you a drink. Hot chocolate or tea? Tammy picked up some caffeine-free ones. We got lemon ginger, raspberry, and vanilla peppermint."

"Vanilla peppermint sounds nice," she declared, getting out her laptop and setting it up beside Isaac's as he puttered around with the kettle and a pair of mugs and soon handed one over to her. "Thanks. So, are you still having that problem with rearranging the layout?"

Sighing, he replied, "Kinda. I almost got it but still can't-"

"RUBY!"

She was able to set her drink down just in time to avoid spilling the scalding liquid as a three-year-old missile (fresh from his afternoon nap) collided with her side, clambering into her lap and throwing his arms around her and giggling brightly. "Hey, little man," she murmured, squeezing him back and smiling against his soft black hair.

"Hi!" Jonah chirped, shoving his favorite teddy bear into her face. "Kiss!"

With a laugh, Ruby smacked a loud, dramatic kiss onto the plushie's furry nose. "Mwah! And hello to you, too, Dr. Fuzzikins."

Her greeting sent the boy into peals of laughter as he insisted, "That's not his name, silly!"

"Really?" she wondered, struggling to keep her expression and tone neutral. "Are you sure? He certainly looks like a Dr. Fuzzikins."

"No!" cackled Jonah, squirming happily.

"Well, if you say so," Ruby agreed. "I suppose Captain Fluff-Bottom would work as well."

There was another giggle from the small boy, who declared, "No!"

"Admiral Cuddles?"

"No!"

"His Majesty King Cutie-Pie the First?"

"No!"

"Oh… Hmm… Is it Jonah? I remember there was someone named Jonah…"

The boy gasped (with all the righteous outrage of a saucy old church lady who'd just overheard someone swear) and pouted, "That's my name! I'm Jonah!"

Isaac chose that moment to promptly crack up at their antics. Eventually, the man stood and offered, "You want some juice and a snack, J?"

Jonah nodded, still pouting, and harumphed even as he snuggled into Ruby's embrace. "I'm Jonah," the little boy muttered sourly.

He was the most adorable creature on the planet.

"I know, little man," she chuckled, tickling his sides to get him giggling again. "I was just teasing you and Bear. Did I hurt your feelings?"

Instantly brightening and obviously pleased that she'd finally "remembered" his teddy's oh-so creative name, Jonah chirped, "Yes! Kiss and make better!"

Ruby obliged, kissing the boy and his bear, "Mwah! Mwah!" and stating, "I'm sorry, and I'll never do it again. Forgive me?"

Jonah nodded merrily.

"Here y'go, bud," Isaac declared as he returned to the table with a sippie cup of OJ and a plastic plate covered in carrot sticks, crackers, cheese squares, and blueberries. "You get to pick between sitting in the living room with cartoons or sitting at the table with us, but if you stay here, you have to be quiet. Ruby and I are working."

The little boy barely needed a moment of contemplation before announcing, "I stay. We play after?"

After a quick glance at Isaac for permission, Ruby agreed, "Of course."

"An' I get to color!" Jonah demanded, obviously not seeing that his dad had already laid out crayons and construction paper beside the snacks before going to fetch a booster seat.

"Yep," Isaac said, dragging a chair close to Ruby's and arranging said booster seat. He grabbed Jonah under the arms and swung him around a few times, eliciting delighted squeals and then finally plopping him down.

Entirely satisfied, Jonah dove right into his snack.

Ruby and Isaac got back to work, interrupted only occasionally by the cheerful little boy; he was very well-behaved but still three and couldn't be expected to be entirely silent for long. His interruptions were always short and polite, offering Ruby some blueberries or tugging on her sleeve and showing her a drawing or smudging his fingers against her screen to point at something and ask what it was.

Because Isaac had taken very well to managing his website, he needed just an hour of her time, which she spent answering copious questions and demonstrating how to fine-tune various settings and troubleshoot common problems. Afterward, he got started on his family's dinner (to which she'd been invited), and Jonah gleefully dragged her into the living room to build and smash block towers and then engage in stuffed-animal theater. Ruby named her assigned plushie, a bright green cat with a protruding purple tongue, Empress Emerald. That turned into teaching Jonah various color synonyms for every shade he could find and even reading off the names on his crayons.

He decided that his favorite was Cotton Candy, because he'd had some at a fair during the summer and thought it was the best food ever.

A little after 4 p.m., Isaac's wife, Tammy, arrived home with their two older kids, Nathan and Abigail (ages 9 and 6, respectively), all of whom greeted Ruby warmly. Nate and Abby, as they preferred to be called, sat down in the living room with their homework and proceeded to elicit Ruby's help whenever they got stuck. Jonah wasn't pleased to share her attention, claiming a seat on her lap and glowering at his siblings. Still, it was all very cute and wholesome.

Dinner was just as enjoyable, and Ruby was able to eat enough to keep Isaac and Tammy from exchanging worried glances when they thought she wouldn't notice, usually while Jonah was chatting her ear off. The girl would probably end up with a stomachache, but she didn't even care. Afterward, as it was time for Jonah to take a bath and start getting ready for bed, she bid him and the others goodnight. She received friendly goodnights and hugs in return as well as a wrapped plate of leftovers and an invitation to Jonah's fourth birthday party, which would take place on January 7 of the new year, which was almost a month away but suddenly the thing she was looking forward to the most.

"I'll walk you out, hun," Tammy offered, adding another wrapped plate, containing a big slice of the chocolate cake they'd had for dessert in celebration of Isaac's recent success. "We can chat for a minute while your van warms up."

It seemed kind of… ominous, but Ruby nodded and led the way to Jezebel, only to see that someone, probably Isaac, had already deiced all the windows and thrown gravel around the tires, which were partially dug out of the deep snow. The sight actually stopped her dead in her tracks for a long moment as her heart stuttered.

Ruby had never doubted her mother's or grandmother's or even grandfather's love for her, but they rarely did anything for her that she could easily do for herself—and if they did, it was solely to teach her how to do it so that they wouldn't have to bother in the future. Self-sufficiency was a big thing in her family, a lesson that was not only practical but also a source of pride.

However, it was still really nice when people did things for her that showed that they cared about her, that they were thinking about her safety and comfort and well-being.

Rare as the instances were, each one hit her pretty hard.

But she shook herself out of it quickly, opening the side door and unfurling the steps and inviting Tammy in, sliding the door shut behind them to shut out the swirling flurries and offering a seat on the sofa. Ruby stashed her to-go plates in the minifridge and then took a seat opposite, doing her best not to fidget with nerves.

"I'm not telling you this because I believe it or because I think you did anything wrong," the older woman reassured, still young by anyone's standards and pretty by anyone with half a brain's; her slight stoutness from three pregnancies just made her look like a voluptuous pinup model or a prehistoric fertility goddess, and she carried herself with confidence befitting both. "Or because I want you to stop visiting, which I definitely don't. The kids adore you, and Isaac hasn't been this lively in years. It's amazing to watch him be able to pursue his passion rather than waste away at a job that he hates and that doesn't appreciate him." Tammy flashed a wide, white smile, happy and gorgeous and genuine. "I think you're great, too. Just don't give Jonah a cotton candy machine for his birthday, no matter how good a deal you can find on one."

Ruby blushed, a little irritated that she'd clearly telegraphed the ridiculous whim. (She wouldn't have actually followed through on it… Probably… And even if she had, Jonah was her favorite and deserved a personal cotton candy machine. Nothing would convince her otherwise.)

(Maybe she could rent one just for the day… or build one for herself. How hard could it be? The internet taught literally everything, and for most projects, the basic tools were a drill and a saw and a soldering iron, all of which she already owned and wielded skillfully.)

"I've had three gossipy bitches come up to me in the last week to ask about the state of my marriage and to warn me that you've been hanging around my husband," Tammy sighed, rolling her eyes. At Ruby's horrified jaw-drop, the woman rushed to add, "Like I said, I know you haven't done anything wrong. I did my best to set them straight, and I don't even care that people are talking. People are always gonna talk. I just didn't want you being blindsided or worrying about what Isaac and I are thinking."

Unsure whether she needed to cry or vomit, Ruby managed a nod. It was like being back in high school, being discussed by assholes and idiots who didn't know the first thing about her yet somehow had the ability to make her feel disgusting and ashamed.

"Oh, sweetheart! Breathe! Please!"

Immediately, Ruby sucked in a harsh gulp of air. It helped in knocking her out of the initial shock.

Then, she got pissed.

"Who?" the girl managed to snarl.

"Who… said it to me?" Tammy prompted. "Or who started the rumor?"

"Both."

Tammy sighed, "That's not important. It's just nonsense from nosy gossips. If you ignore them, they'll get bored and stop-"

"No!" Ruby was fairly sure she'd at least halfway screamed, her strangled voice breaking shrilly, but the phrase was an instant panic attack—bad advice that would never fail to trigger her. Still, she managed a deep breath and a much calmer (though hardly calm) insistence that "I already tried the ignoring thing. If it doesn't work on idiot kids, it's certainly not gonna work on idiot adults, some of whom are probably the idiot kids' idiot parents. It just doesn't work at all. And I can't… I can't do that again." What she didn't say was I barely survived it.

Ruby had only ever wanted to be treated with kindness or be left the hell alone. She didn't think that such basic decency was too much to ask for or even that she should have to ask for it. But apparently, far too many people found twisted satisfaction in spreading misery, found entertainment in cruelty and suffering, found empowerment in making others feel powerless. It was yet another thing about her own species that had never made any sense to her, yet another thing that set her apart and turned her into everyone's favorite target.

As much as she tried to pretend that other people's horrible behavior toward her didn't matter and didn't hurt… it did. It mattered. It hurt. And she didn't understand. What was the appeal of cruelty? What did people actually get out of it? She didn't think she'd ever been cruel to anyone without a damn good reason, and the very idea of doing so (even with a damn good reason) made her feel awful. So, why did so many people, kids and adults alike, seem to enjoy it? To thrive on it? To seek out opportunities for petty viciousness and bloody violence like junkies chasing their next high?

Hell, she'd recently had the fleeting thought that she kind of wanted Paul to get hit by a car. And then he did get hit by a car… And she hadn't felt any kind of satisfaction or enjoyment or vindication. She'd just felt queasy and guilty and remorseful, which in turn had made her feel completely pathetic.

Ultimately, she didn't want bad things to happen to anyone, even to the people who treated her like shit.

And that felt like a weakness, like illogical stupidity. Like not wanting to hate the people who hurt her somehow made her deserve it.

But none of that was relevant. Ruby had spent too much of her life being hurt, trying and failing to understand why so many people reveled in hurting her, what made her so freakish, so worthless, so unlovable…

She'd clawed her way out of that mire without realizing what she was doing.

And she was never going to fall back into it. She was never going to let anyone treat her that way again.

Even if she had to go absolutely nuclear on every last incomprehensible moron who as much as looked at her sideways.

She wouldn't enjoy it; she'd probably throw up afterward and feel guilty for the rest of her life. But she'd do it. And maybe then they'd finally leave her alone.

There was a certain strange peace she achieved in that moment, a certain… rightness and righteousness. I don't have to take this, she told herself. I won't.

Her days of ignoring people who attacked her were long past.

And they were all going to regret pushing her too far.

"Ruby?"

There must've been something different in the girl's gaze, something serenely murderous. Tranquil yet cold. (Always so fucking cold, can't get warm, never be warm again.) Like Ruby had finally transcended her human frailties and welcomed a ravenous shark spirit into her soul.

And it was eager to hunt.

Tammy sensed the change, obviously, but she didn't seem afraid, just… concerned, a bit wide-eyed and stiff, like she couldn't help freezing in the presence of a remorseless animal, a mindless beast for whom carnage was neither good nor bad—just a messy fact of life.

"Don't worry," murmured Ruby, words barely audible in the small space. "I'll take care of it."

xxXxx

Ever since his first phase, Paul's senses had been dialed up to a ridiculous degree. Even while he was in his human form, he could hear a mouse fart at fifty paces. His wolf form was literally magic, with augmented smell, sight, and hearing—everything he needed to hunt a bloodsucker through a blizzard, plus the speed and strength to chase down the abomination and rip it in half.

So, when Ruby's grandmother managed to sneak up behind him in the woods—while he was in his wolf form—he jumped damn near out of his pelt.

Fuck, Jared muttered, his own shock and anxiety and disbelief permeating their mental link. This is it. She's totally gonna kill you and hack up your body and feed it to the bears.

Judith—Mrs. Kayad—was, in fact, carrying a pistol on one hip and a large hunting knife on the other as well as a rather large axe over a slender shoulder; however, she had a string of fish and a brace of rabbits over the other shoulder, which gave Paul hope that she wasn't lurking in the woods solely for the purpose of murdering him. Despite the thick blanket of snow, the dainty but terrifying old woman seemed to be somehow hovering on top of it, her leather-wrapped feet barely making contact with the surface and not sinking in at all. There was only the faintest hint of footprints leading up to her current position, and that couldn't be natural.

Suddenly, Old Quil's insistence that she was an actual witch didn't seem at all farfetched.

Nice knowin ya, bro. Jared made sure to send sympathy and a sneak peek of the eulogy he was already composing.

For a long moment, Mrs. Kayad just stared at Paul, her dark eyes intent and her head tilted in curious contemplation, black-speckled white hair hanging around her like a birch-bark cape. Then, her weathered face stretched into a smile that was not really a smile. More a show of teeth. A blatant threat.

Paul had to lock all his muscles to keep himself from cowering and offering his neck or his belly in submission.

I'd offer to avenge you, Jared babbled, But I have too much to live for. A highlight reel of Kim bombarded the Wolf Brain chatroom. She'd been nothing but absolutely thrilled to find out that she'd been assigned her longtime crush as a soulmate, and none of the accompanying baggage seemed to matter to her at all.

Shut up, Paul snarled, still frozen in place. Just get Sam.

A loud, urgent howl reverberated through the frigid air.

"Aw, don't be like that, pup," Mrs. Kayad taunted, more amused than offended. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, and now's as good a time as any." She jiggled the dead fish and rabbits at him, announcing, "I'll even feed you."

Paul was… somewhat mollified. He didn't think she planned to kill him, if only for the fact that no one was sure how his death would affect Ruby. As her attempt at running away had shown, she was affected by separation, not to the degree that he was but still to the point of pain and other physical and spiritual symptoms.

So, if the elder Kayads couldn't risk killing him… then maybe they'd be open to actually helping him? Miriam was a straight-up psycho, and Judith was… well, possibly (probably) a witch. But they both cared about Ruby. Their love for her wasn't conventional, but it was obvious. Vicious, really.

And how could Paul ever blame the two women for being protective of his imprint? How could he refuse what they asked of him as he continued on his path toward winning her heart?

Don't do it, man, Jared advised. I'm pretty sure she drugged Old Quil at some point. That's why he won't eat her cooking. She could slip you anything from laxatives to LSD.

True, agreed Paul, nervously shaking out his fur as he held the patient woman's flat, feral gaze, But Miriam definitely still hates me. Judith is my only in.

Your funeral.

They felt Sam phase, and he was quick to determine what was happening. Sighing gustily as he started loping in Paul's direction, the alpha declared, It's up to you, but I think you should at least hear her out. Ruby hasn't been doing great lately, and my guess is that it's because of the imprint.

Paul's eyes widened, and he nearly snarled, resisting only because he didn't want Mrs. Kayad thinking that he was snarling at her. (He did not see that ending well for him.) What the hell do you mean?! he demanded.

There was an instant download of information, Sam's observations of his half-sister as well as several concerned conversations he'd had with Old Quil. The gist was that she'd been acting a bit weird in Sam's presence, mostly avoiding his house and staring off into space a lot when she didn't, occasionally muttering to herself and clamming up nervously when anyone noticed. Also, ever since the weather had turned from chilly to frigid, she'd been wearing excessive layers even indoors, her frail body constantly trembling and her lips and any exposed skin ashen at best and faintly blue at worst. In response to Sam's and Emily's and even Embry's worry about the girl's health, Ruby had claimed that she was always cold due to being anemic and that it wasn't a big deal and would get better once winter ended.

But there was nothing natural about wearing three sweaters in an eighty-degree room and still shivering and looking close to dying of hypothermia.

I don't think it's occurred to her that being constantly, unnaturally cold could be a side effect of avoiding you, Sam lamented. She started going downhill when you stopped stalking her practically every night. And she does seem to improve a bit when she comes over and is near anything you've touched recently. Blankets, shirts, stuff like that. Not a lot but enough that it's obvious she gets worse again when she leaves.

Why didn't you tell me?! Paul demanded, furious that Ruby had been suffering and that he hadn't known or done anything to help.

Because she wants space from you, Sam replied. She still won't come over unless I promise you're not gonna be there. Old Quil thinks this cold thing is more meddling from the spirits, but given how she reacted last time they fucked with her to try to force her toward you, telling her that that's what it is will probably just make her more stubborn and more likely to ignore you, regardless of how much she gets hurt because of it.

Sam was right. And Paul had no one to blame but himself.

But Mrs. Kayad was potentially about to throw the teen a lifeline. He'd be stupid not to grab hold of it and cling for all he was worth, no matter what kind of revenge she might decide to enact on her granddaughter's behalf.

Up to his knees in powder, Paul stepped closer to the old woman and did his best to nod and gesture for her to lead so that he could follow. The result was an awkward combination of a head-bob and a half-bow.

However, Judith seemed to understand just fine and immediately turned around and set out for… wherever she planned to go. From the direction, Paul guessed the Kayad house, but he could be wrong.

I'll meet you there, Sam reported. Just to let her know that I know where you are.

She's not gonna kill me, Paul argued. If she wanted to kill me, she could've done it before I even noticed she was behind me.

Still, insisted the alpha, thinking of the uncomfortable fact that they remained in the dark about what had happened to Joshua Uley, whether he was alive or dead and whether or not Miriam was responsible. Judith didn't seem as nuts as her daughter, but the old woman was plenty ruthless and apparently capable of sneaking up on shifters in their natural habitat. Even most vamps couldn't do that.

Mrs. Kayad was (unsurprisingly) a woman of few words and didn't speak at all during the hike, which was several miles but didn't seem to affect her at all—the distance or the depth of the snow, which she still somehow managed to walk on top of with barely a track left behind. Jared kept insisting that it had to be some kind of trick or quirk of physics, but Paul was convinced that it was magic; he didn't have any doubts left that the spry old woman was a bona fide witch.

And he was following her to her lair, possibly to be baked into a pie.

Even if she is a witch, Sam laughed, I don't think she'd eat you. He'd arrived ahead of them and was making himself comfortable near the front porch like an overgrown guard dog. His keen hearing picked up on the sound of soft breathing and a slow heartbeat inside the warm home: a sleeping person. And he was familiar enough with Ruby's usual scent, van exhaust and a diverse herbal medley that changed with the seasons, to guess that she was the sleeping person. He felt relieved and glad that she was sleeping at all.

No, agreed Paul, But she'd definitely serve me at the next council meeting.

Contributing a cacophony of gagging noises, Jared complained, Ugh! Gross! Quit trying to ruin pie for me!

I'd make a great pie. You'd eat me and love it.

Maybe Paul was leaning hard on humor to keep his own anxiety at bay, but why mess with a strategy that worked?

Eventually, he and the old woman arrived at the Kayad property, breaking through the front tree line and ambling up the driveway. Judith pulled ahead, passing Sam on her way up the porch. "Cute," she remarked to the stoic alpha. "Don't worry. I'll return him to you in working condition." Then, shooting Paul a last glance before she went inside, the witch instructed, "C'mon in when you're decent. And don't forget to wipe your feet."

Well, Sam deadpanned as the door slammed behind her, Good luck.

Try not to get roofied, Jared contributed.

Paul rolled his eyes and replied, Thanks. Will do. Then, he turned human and yanked on his shorts. He didn't have a shirt or shoes with him, so he was kind of worried about how Ruby might react if she woke up to find him half-naked in her house. But he still squared his shoulders and ventured onward.

The last time Paul had been there had been for the dinner with the elders, and no one had been invited inside. The time before that, Paul had invited himself inside but had been too busy worrying about Ruby and then being shot at by Reuben to really notice or appreciate anything about the well-kept two-bedroom, two-bathroom cabin. All the times before had been creepy surveillance from the woods (which he should probably apologize for at some point).

The expansive front porch was several steps off the ground and covered in potted and hanging plants, many of which were dead or dormant for the winter; however, the amount of remaining greenery was still impressive (and possibly supernatural). The front porch wrapped around to the right, where there was a sliding glass door in the house's side wall (which led to the living room) and then another slider in a perpendicular wall (which led to the kitchen). The front door opened into the living room, which was decorated in muted earth tones and dominated by a softly glowing hearth… which actually looked like a stereotypical witch's hearth—made of rough, mismatched stones stacked to the ceiling to create the chimney, tall enough and wide enough to accommodate a cauldron or maybe even a whole person (though not a shifter, at least not in one piece).

There was no cauldron present, but banked embers put off enough light in the otherwise dim room (heavy curtains covered the large window along the front wall as well as the slider to the right) to reveal an L-shaped couch, the longer arm of which split the space in half and separated the front door from the fireplace. Nothing about the room was particularly notable—except for Ruby, who was curled up on the shorter arm of the couch (which separated the fire from the kitchen door), as close as she could get to the hearth without sitting on the stone section of floor in front of it.

A mound of quilts and blankets covered her, leaving only a sliver of forehead and the tip of her nose visible. Somehow, she was still shivering faintly in the very warm room, which was already making him sweat, but Paul could actually see the tremors lessening as he moved closer to her.

But then he was the one shaking, because he was… overjoyed yet nervous enough to maybe hurl. He couldn't fuck this up. He wanted so badly to help her, and she clearly needed his help. But convincing her to let him be near her was an uphill battle that had been going on for months, close to a year. And he was obviously still losing.

What was the name of that guy who got punished by the gods by having to push a boulder up a mountain every day but never reach the summit? That's kind of what Paul's situation felt like to him, but he was nowhere near ready to concede defeat. He didn't think he could.

"Well, go on," Judith said, appearing suddenly in the doorway to the left of the fireplace, which he was pretty sure led to a short hall that linked to the kitchen and then Ruby's bedroom to the right, the back porch straight ahead, and a bathroom to the left. The only rooms that the hallway didn't link to were the master bedroom and bathroom, the former of which had a slider on the front porch as well as a door from the living room and the latter of which could only be accessed through the master bedroom itself. Paul suspected that the hallway even had a ceiling hatch for the attic as well as a floor hatch for the basement laundry/storage room. (Maybe it was slightly weird that he knew the full layout of the house after having been inside just once, but creepy surveillance paid off.)

(Yeah, I should definitely apologize…)

After he was done yet again jumping in undignified alarm, it occurred to Paul that he didn't know how long he'd been standing in the living room and staring at Ruby, basking in her presence like a total freak. It had been long enough for Mrs. Kayad to stash the fish and rabbits (presumably in the kitchen) and strip out of her snow gear, down to a threadbare T-shirt and sweatpants and fuzzy wool socks. She'd even braided her hair, which fell in a two-tone rope past the small of her slender back.

"Huh?" the shifter replied intelligently.

Rolling her dark eyes at him, the old woman gestured to Ruby and announced, "Go warm her up. Don't worry. She's not gonna wake for at least another hour."

"What?" Paul gaped. He could not have heard that right…

"She's been staying up for days at a time," Mrs. Kayad reported with utter nonchalance, "So I've been giving her something to make her sleep when she needs it. If you hold her for a while, we can test if it really is the imprint making her feel cold constantly. I think it'll help her recuperate a bit so that she'll be in a better frame of mind when we try to convince her that she can't keep avoiding you. She's exceptionally stubborn and even more so when she's not feeling well."

It sounded… reasonable. Well, as reasonable as a theory regarding a sometimes-hazardous spiritual connection between a mythical monster and his unwilling soulmate could sound…

But Paul was not going to molest Ruby in her sleep, even if it would help her, even if he had permission from the girl's (fucking insane witch) grandmother. "No," he rasped, locking his muscles again so that he didn't give in to the urge to rush to his imprint, to cradle her in his arms and caress her from head to toe and nuzzle her and warm her and rub his scent all over her. (His wolf wanted that so badly it hurt.)

"She's suffering without you," snapped Mrs. Kayad, actually looking quite annoyed at the refusal. "It's for her own good, and she'll never know. Don't be a fool, boy."

Swallowing thickly, teeth clenched and chest heaving, Paul repeated, "No." He struggled with offering more words, with explaining that no matter how desperately he desired his imprint, he wouldn't violate her body or her trust, especially when she hadn't given him either.

The whole incident with Lizzie had been bad enough, and what Mrs. Kayad was suggesting was infinitely worse. At least when Ruby had been possessed, she'd been… well, possessed. The ghost had already caused her a head wound (which had needed care and monitoring) and had been distraught and unpredictable enough to cause more injuries if not contained. Paul hadn't wanted to hold the girl—and Ruby by default—but the spirit had latched onto him and not let go.

He still felt terrible about it. Hadn't enjoyed it at all. He'd been too much of a coward to confess and apologize in person but had immediately made Sam do it for him. Ruby had accepted- well, acknowledged said secondhand confession and apology with a distracted shrug; she'd had a lot more pressing issues to worry about at that particular moment, when Sue Clearwater had been stitching the gash in the back of the girl's skull.

Paul had gotten a pass on the incident; there had been extenuating circumstances and distractions, and it had been damn lucky for him that the entire thing hadn't completely blown up in his face and set him back additional months or years.

Currently, Ruby was not injured or in danger or in any sort of altered state. She was cold, true, but that didn't seem life-threatening, at least for the moment. There was no pressing need or urgent reason for Paul to touch the girl without her permission, especially while she was just napping peacefully in her own damn house.

"Does she know you've been drugging her?" he wondered. A subject change was probably best, before he lost his temper on the old woman.

Arms crossed, huffing harshly through flared nostrils, Judith declared, "If she hasn't figured it out by now, she's got no one but herself to blame."

He should've picked a different subject to change to. If anything, he was even more incensed and wanted to rip the old woman's head off her shoulders. Still, he forced himself through some breathing and thought exercises to keep his anger under control. "I'm gonna wait outside," he decided. "When she wakes up, let her know I'm here. I'll come in if she wants me to. And I'll go away if she wants me to." Unsure of how much longer he could remain human, he spun on his heel and stomped back toward the front door.

The second his fingers touched the knob, Mrs. Kayad burst out laughing.

"She was testing you, idiot," Sam reported from outside, apparently back to his human form, whether because he was about to rush in and put a stop to any nonconsensual sleep cuddling or because he wanted his heckling heard—possibly both. "You're damn lucky you made the right choice."

(Honestly, between the lengthy basking and the confused horror, Paul had kind of forgotten that the alpha was there; knowing that Sam wouldn't have let Paul take advantage of Ruby in the way that Judith had suggested was a huge relief. He liked to think that he was above such behavior, but stronger men had repeatedly given in to lesser temptations throughout the entirety of history.)

Still, the witch's mean, entirely cliché cackling meant that Sam was probably right: Paul had been tested.

And he'd… passed?

Or, well, maybe it had been more of a trap than a test. And if he'd fallen for it, he likely would've ended up in a pie.

"Ha!" Mrs. Kayad eventually declared, clapping her wrinkled hands together sharply. "You should've seen your face!" She turned and started back toward the hallway, announcing, "Now, let's check if you're better than useless in the kitchen. Just like being unwilling to grope someone in their sleep, it doesn't win you any points if you are but gets you shot if you're not."

Paul didn't want to get shot at by anymore of Ruby's relatives (or actually shot by them, which thankfully hadn't happened yet), but he'd endure whatever tests, traps, and tortures they wanted to inflict. Ruby was worth it. With one last longing glance at his sleeping angel, he ambled along to demonstrate his seldom-used culinary skills.

xxxxxxxxxx

The alternate title to this chapter is "Four-and-Twenty Werewolves Baked in a Pie."

That is all.