Chapter 79

Ansel’s face and voice are everywhere. His message gets broadcast, replayed and rehashed.

He’s standing outside, in one of the gardens on his estate. A breeze blows gently at his blond hair. He looks tired, but his voice is strong. When he speaks, it’s not hard to appreciate why so many have come to care for him.

“Recently, many accusations have been made about me and reported in the media as truth. My team is working to investigate the source of the misinformation. I take this very seriously, because it is not only about me. It stands to undermine the democratic process the werewolf world is building. Your vote is freely yours, and no undue influence should interfere with your choice to elect our next leader.”

It’s a brief message, but more is promised. A sit-down interview has been planned with Beta Jack Myers, of all people, to discuss everything in depth - his illness, aggressive stance to the reporters, what happened with Ethan, and me.

I might have gotten upset about it in the past, but everything is dulled now. Joy gets worked up for me instead.

“Maybe Ansel’s people should bring you in and let you defend yourself!”

It’s very kind of her, especially since one of the major stories was deriding me for being a “prostitute.”

She’s painting my nails a dusty pink. “A ballerina color,” she says. Her thoughtfulness should touch me, but I’m in the realm of the zombies now, and any emotion I have is muted.

It should also bring a flood of memories about my first pair of ballet shoes, first dance lessons, twirling around with my dad… but all of that stays in the fog. I just get glimmers. I try to catch them, but they just keep falling back down into the mist.

Joy blows on my nails to dry them.

“One thing is good,” she says.

“What’s that?”

“No one’s found out that you’re here. I’m sure reporters would be calling non-stop. We’d be getting regular people trying to crowd around, too.” She shudders. “Gives me the heebies just thinking about it.”

“Thanks for letting me hide out here,” I say. “I know it’s a risk you’re taking on.”

“Of course,” she says. “And when this all blows over, we’re getting you back out there so you can dance, and do anything else you want!”

She smiles and caps the lid on the polish.

“What do you think about today? I can just tell Doc you’re here and have him do your pregnancy test at my house, so you won’t have to go back over there.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’m not bothered by it.”

Or much of anything.

“Besides, Ansel should get to be there for it. And if it’s a negative result, maybe we’ll tear up the contract together.”

“I think he’s going to ask you to reconsider,” Joy says. She’s starting on her own nails now. An emerald green.

“You should have gone with lavender,” I say, letting my eyes scan over all the purple in the room.

She looks down at her wet nails. “I’ve gotta mix things up sometimes,” she says. “I’m thinking of redoing everything in green, actually.” She winks at me. “I’m manifesting.”

“Let me know if that works,” I say. I imagine my dad in his prison cell and the amount of green it will take to get him out.

“Oh, honey,” she says. “It already has. That’s the secret. Raise your vibration by knowing that it’s already here.”

I wrinkle my forehead. I don’t think it’s the fog. I don’t know what the hell she’s on about.

“Back to Ansel,” she says. “You’ve seen that video of him. He’s not just trying to clear his name. He’s obviously focused again on winning the election.”

“So he’ll need an heir.” I blow on my fingers, trying to help them along.

“Just remember that you don’t have to agree to anything, Karin.”

I start messing with her seashell collection on the coffee table.

“Whoops.”

She grabs my hand and gives me a look. “I’ll fix it.”

The doorbell rings.

Joy cautiously peeks through the peephole. It’s one of Ansel’s guys, in plain-shirt.

“You’re here early,” Joy says, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry, ma’am. Orders.”

She makes him wait while she fixes the two nails I’ve messed up. I think it would normally make for a funny image - painting our nails with one of Ansel’s muscled-up gammas.

I’m led out to an inconspicuous car around the corner, and then I’m back on my way to Ansel’s estate. We pass through a crowd of protestors gathered outside.

That’s new.

A large blue car is parked in the drive. The kind usually used for VIPs - extra long for their entourage, dark tint on the windows to keep them hidden.

The gamma wants to lead me inside, but I decline.

“I won’t be long,” I say.

I want to wander around the garden for a few minutes. It’s only been a few days, but so much has changed that it feels like a million years ago that I was living here.

I walk up the path that leads to the lush, quiet greenscape. I let my fingers brush over the white petals of a rose, and I lean in to try and breathe in its smell. It’s very faint now, but still lovely.

“Let me be here for you.”

My hand drops from the rose. It’s a woman’s voice - soft and cajoling.

Cherry.

I decide to get closer, so I can hear better. As silently as I can, I ease further into the garden. I stop when I see them. She and Ansel are sitting on a bench together beside the small pond.

I’m shrouded in greenery, just at the edge of the garden. If I’m lucky all the blooming flowers will hide my scent. The air is still.

Cherry’s holding Ansel’s hand.

“I’ve been so worried,” she says. “The things they’re saying about you!” She stops and huffs. “All this extra security you need. And it’s no secret that you’ve been getting a lot more death threats.”

“I’ll be okay,” Ansel says. “It just comes with the territory.”

“Ansel, have you even seen all the people outside your gate? What if it turns into a mob? It’s not far from it! My father didn’t want me coming today, because of how bad things are. I had to convince my guards to sneak me in here.”

Ansel pats her hand.

“I’m safe, Cherry.”

She turns her head from him, her mouth formed in an angry line. “It’s such a scandal! None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for that -“

“Watch it,” Ansel growls. He drops her hand.

“You’re still hung up on her, then?” She crosses her arms. “I thought you said you were through with her.”

“That doesn’t mean you can say whatever you want about her.”

“What does it matter?” Cherry glares at him.

Ansel sighs. “It really isn’t any of your business.”

Cherry looks hurt. Her eyes glisten with tears. “But I want it to be,” she says. “I told you that I’m here for you, Ansel.”

“With or without Karin, things between us just didn’t work. I’ve tried to tell you that.” Ansel stands. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing’s perfect,” Cherry says, standing. “But some things were good.” She lets her hand graze down his arm. “And other things could be better. We can make them better this time.”

She stares into Ansel’s eyes. Her chest is heaving heavily with desire.

Zombie-Karin has her perks. I watch it play out like a movie, wondering what the characters will do.

Ansel stares back at her. Cherry leans into him to kiss him.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t respond at first, but then he begins to kiss her slowly. It’s not tender. It’s cautious. Intentional, like he wants to see if he can…

Let me go.

A breeze begins to stir.

Ansel opens his eyes and pulls away from Cherry. He inhales slightly. He blinks his eyes and then scans the garden.

“What’s wrong,” Cherry says, quietly.

I try to tuck myself deeper into the shrubs without making a sound, but a thorn cuts deep into my bare ankle. I draw in my breath.

Ansel pauses in recognition and comes toward the shrub where I’m hidden.

“Karin,” he says, peering at me inside the thicket. “Why are you out here?”

Cherry’s face goes red and she marches over. “Yes. Why indeed?”

Ansel helps me out, pushing back branches to clear the way, then taking my hand to help me step over a patch of thorns.

Holding his hand feels like home. For just a flash, I’m myself again.

When he drops my hand, it all snaps back in an instant. A gray, dulled world.

“I’m sorry,” I say, brushing leaves off my clothes. “I was just killing time before our appointment.”

“Killing time or snooping around,” Cherry snaps. Her eyes could probably burn a hole through my soul, she’s staring so intensely.

I don’t have a wolf with me now, if she decides to attack. I should feel afraid, but I’m only numb. What happens to my character in the movie? Do I make it this time, or do I get killed off?

Ansel steps in front of me, protectively. “Calm down, Cherry,” he says. There’s a deep growl in his voice.

Cherry’s face goes tense. I recognize the look of a toddler just before the moment of meltdown.

She manages to keep it in and storms off through the garden, pushing through Ansel and me on her way out, knocking us into each other.

Ansel reflexively catches me in his arms. There’s no emotion this time, but there’s a reaction. My heart starts to thump in my chest.

And the funny thing is, the world stays a little less gray after he lets me go.

“We should go inside,” he says. “Doc will be waiting.” He pauses. “Don’t worry about all that. With her, I mean.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “None of my business.”

He looks at me. His jaw tenses. “Yeah,” he says.

We go inside and Charles greets me warmly. Maggie walks out of the dining hall, carrying some dishes. She looks at me, and then immediately looks away. Neither of us tries to say ‘hi.’

My attention shifts when I feel Ansel leaning over me. He plucks a leaf out of my hair.

“You look like you got eaten by the shrubbery, Karin.” He pulls a twig loose from the fabric at my waist and throws both onto the tray of a servant who’s hurrying by, just before dashes away.

When we get to Doc, he cleans my arm with an alcohol swab and tightens a tourniquet around my arm for the blood draw.

Ansel sits across from us, watching everything.

Doc has just unwrapped my arm and is in the process of putting on the bandaid when we hear a loud commotion erupting outside. Footsteps pounding, doors opening and closing, people talking.

Doc leans his head over to the window.

“We’ve got some visitors,” he says.

Ansel gets up and we both look out. Several black cars have lined up outside. Men and women are getting out.

I catch the emblem on the back of a jacket. It’s not the police. It’s the National Bureau of Investigation.

Ansel rubs one of his temples. “This should be fun.”