“I asked you if things were going to change for us. Joe was hollowed out and empty, Mom was barely holding on, Mark wasn’t talking, and Dad always had this pinched look on his face. I didn’t know what was going to happen. It felt like we were falling apart. I didn’t want to lose you too. You promised me that would never happen.” He raised his right hand, palm toward me before he closed it into a fist. “You cut your hand. And then mine. You were quick, before it could heal. You pressed your blood against mine. You said we’d always be together.”
“Yeah. I did.” Even though it was cold enough to see my breath, sweat rolled down the back of my neck.
“Why do you ask?”
“I love you,” I told him. “You’re my tether.”
He smiled. “I know I am. You’re my big brother. There’s no one like you in all the world.” His smil
e faded. “And that means you should listen to me. Let’s go, okay? Just you and me. We’ll get out of here, find a place where we can run together. Just like we used to.”
I wanted that almost more than anything.
I said, “I don’t know how much longer I have.”
He cocked his head. “Until what?”
“It’s breaking. In my head. I thought… I thought you’d be enough. But it’s like it was before. I can feel it pulling on me.”
He took a step toward me. “I can’t be everything, Carter. I want to be, but I can’t. A tether can only do so much. Wolves aren’t meant to be alone. You need more than this. More than me. I’m nothing but a ghost. A memory. And it’s not enough.”
I looked back at the house as the first snow started to fall. It was nothing more than a flurry, the air filled with dancing flakes. It felt cool against my heated skin. “I could have killed those people at the bar.”
“You wanted to,” he said. “It was close.”
“Yes.”
“What happens when you can’t stop yourself? Do you really want to take that risk?”
I could feel him staring after me as I walked toward the house. I climbed the porch, stepping over the beams that had fallen. The door was peeling. The doorknob was cold to the touch. I turned it, but it barely moved.
Locked.
I pushed against it. I barely had to put any pressure on it before the wood cracked and gave way. The door swung open, the hinges creaking.
The house smelled of mold and dust.
I sneezed. It echoed flatly through the house.
Snow drifted in from the hole in the roof, landing in what had once been a living room. The fireplace was made of crumbling brick. There was an overturned chair, the fabric ripped, stuffing sticking out, yellowed and withered. The floor groaned with every step I took.
A picture hung crooked on the wall. The glass was cracked. The photograph had three people in it. A man with a quiet smile. A woman with sparkling eyes.
And a boy.
He stood between the man and woman, each with a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were dark, his hair black and windswept.
I’d seen a photograph once of when Gordo was a kid, hanging off of Mark’s back. The boy on the wall looked almost the same. The shape of the nose was off, the bridge bumpier. His cheeks were freckled. His eyes were farther apart. He was stockier than Gordo had ever been.
And he was smiling. Brightly. He was missing a couple of teeth, an endearing gap that almost made him look like he had fangs.
I knew this face.
I’d only seen it once before, and only briefly. And this face had been much older, eyes narrowed, teeth grinding together as words came from his lips, sounding as if they were being punched from his chest.
Don’t. Touch. Him.
Shadows crawled along the walls and floor as the day began to die.