Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,186
we can do. Or rather, not just us. It will take all of you. But a price must be paid.”
Mom was staring at her. “Will it work?”
Patrice said, “You know da stories.”
“What are you talking about?” Kelly demanded, Robbie barely able to hold him back. “We don’t have time for this bullshit. He’s dying now. We can’t just—”
Mom touched his arm. “Do you remember what I told you? When Alpha Shannon Wells passed? What happens to the power of the Alpha when there’s no one else to take their place?”
“It returns to the moon,” Joe whispered.
She nodded. “And there was more. The sacrifice was never about Ox. It was about you, Joe.”
And I understood. I remembered the words she’d spoken as Alpha Wells burned.
An Alpha, strong of heart and mind, mated to one they love most, can give their power away in order to save a life. To a Beta they return, never again to hold the power of an Alpha. Just a story, of course. Wolves pass along the Alpha power to their successors constantly, though usually not under the threat of death. I’ve never heard of bringing someone back from the brink in such a way. Regardless, it was too late for her. And stories are just that—stories.
“Do you love him?” Aileen asked gently.
Joe said, “Yes.”
“Do you understand what it means?” Patrice asked.
Joe said, “Yes.”
Our mother put her hand in his hair. “You would no longer be the Alpha of all.”
He wiped his eyes. “I don’t care. Someone else can lead. Anyone else.” He looked down at Ox, and his chest hitched at the sight of the grass underneath him through the hole in his stomach. “I would give anything.”
“And you will,” Aileen said. “All of you will, one last time. Bennett pack, gather the strength you have. We’ll do what we can, but it’ll be up to you and you alone. He needs to hear your song. Howl him home.”
“They’re not alone,” a voice said, and I turned my head.
The people of Green Creek had gathered around us, faces solemn but determined. It was Grant who’d spoken, the man who’d narrowly avoided death on the roof of the garage. He stepped forward and spoke again. “We’re here. We may not be wolves, but we fight for this town. And for them.” The people nodded.
Aileen smiled. “Of course they’re not alone. I shouldn’t have said otherwise.”
We sat around Ox. Gavin was on my left, his shoulder pressed against mine. Kelly was on my right, his hand on my knee. His other hand was on Joe. Our mother sat behind him again, laying her head on his back. Bambi, Jessie, and Dominique sat at his feet, their hands on his bare ankles. Rico, Tanner, and Chris were on the other side of him, sitting behind Gordo and Mark, knees pressed against their backs. Gordo hung his head as Mark whispered songs of love and hope in his ear.
And the others.
All the others.
They stood behind us. The ones closest to us put their hands on our necks, our backs. Our shoulders and hair. There were too many of them to get too close, but they held on to each other instead, all of us connected. I felt them. Each of them. Not one person wanted to be elsewhere. They were here because they wanted to be, to see this through to the end.
“Gordo,” Aileen said, “you saw him for who he was before anyone else here. It must begin with you.”
A tremor rolled through him. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
“You know,” she said quietly. “I promise you do. There’s a reason you chose him. Let him hear your song.”
He nodded.
He took a breath.
He held out his stump over the open wound in Ox’s middle. The tattoos burst to life, the roses blooming, the vines crawling along the scar where the raven had once been. Mark’s own raven, the mark on his throat, fluttered its wings.
Ox said, “Light. All I see is light.”
“Look,” Gavin whispered.
The ground underneath Ox was moving. Grass shifted through the ragged wound. The earth split apart, and a shiny black curve appeared through the soil.
It pushed through the dirt.
A beak.
A raven.
It blinked as it pulled itself out of the ground. It shook its head and wings. It eyed each of us, head cocked. And then it lowered its beak back to the earth. It jerked its head back up. A vine with thorns pulled free. The raven let it go, and as we watched,