My world began to crumble around me at her words. Heath put his hand on my back, out of Everett’s sight, but I barely registered it was there.
“What?” I tried to form words to ask the questions I needed to ask, but as I stared at her, everything was lost.
No. What does she mean? She…she shouldn’t be here.
“I’m going to guess you two do know each other,” Everett said very carefully as though he was expecting his next words to start violence. “I knew I had a strange doppelgänger situation on my hands, but I didn’t think you two had met before.”
“She’s my twin,” Gwen explained, her hazel eyes locked on mine.
Everett’s jaw dropped as his eyes swung back to me.
Chapter Eleven
“Do you think the ladies could sit down and talk privately?” Heath asked kindly over my shoulder to Everett. “Obviously, this has come as a shock to…most everyone.” He sounded as surprised as I was.
I finally dared to inhale through my nose, taking in every scent, and processing them as quickly as I could. Heath’s surprise and confusion was the first thing, thanks to his proximity. Everett’s emotions were similar, except there was a touch of fear, though I didn’t understand why he was suddenly afraid. I dismissed the other scents of blood and werewolf since they were no use to me yet.
Then there was Gwen. Her scent was close enough to mine, I had missed it walking into the house. It was a tamed version of mine, a little more aged and mortal. There were some differences, but it was like knowing the difference between a name brand perfume and its best knockoff—so close, nearly perfect, but not quite. Just off enough to notice, but similar enough to miss if someone wasn’t paying attention.
The complicated mix of her emotions took me the longest to work through. Fear was prominent. She was also hopeful and worried, grateful and upset—so many things to be feeling at once—but there was no confusion, not a single bit in her scent. That was only in everyone else. She was the only person in the room not reeling from this revelation and our reunion.
“How?” I asked softly, not moving my feet.
“How what?” She crossed her arms, mimicking how I did the same thing. She did it more often than me if my memory served me right. She was always the bossier of the two of us, with her crossed arms and pinched stare whenever she wanted to tell me how to live my life.
“How do you know about me? Or…Gwen, I don’t understand.” I didn’t know how to ask such a big thing. It wasn’t just me. How did she know about any of this? How in the hell did she find Everett and know to ask for me?
“Let’s go talk,” she said. “Maybe we should do that.”
“You can tell me right here,” I said, refusing to budge. “How do you know about any of this?”
“I work as a heart surgeon at Mygi Hospital. I was introduced to all of this just over two years ago. You?”
“I was turned into a werecat the day Shane died.” One piece of information for another, an even exchange. Her eyes went wide as she counted the years since that happened, and I had cut off all contact from the family. I had disappeared from their lives for a reason, and it hadn’t been just because of grief. Grief, in the end, never factored into the matter.
I did the mental math. She would have been working at the supernatural Mygi Hospital only half a year before I had been caught up in the coup in Dallas and needed to protect Carey.
“Really?” she asked, anger entering her scent. I didn’t need to smell it to know it was there, though. It was beginning to edge its way into her expression and clear in the tone of her voice. “You’ve been a werecat for nearly twelve years?”
“Yes.” I didn’t need to beat around the bush. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and talk. Then we need to get you out of here. Everett, I’ll take over from here.”
“I’ll be in my office. It’s soundproofed, so don’t worry about me listening in. Less I know, the better.” The tall, lean man walked away, disappearing into a side hall and out of sight. I was grateful for the werecat tendency to run from getting involved. I seemed to be the outlier, or maybe it was my entire family line. Everyone else wanted nothing to do with anyone.
“Gwen, this is werewolf Alpha Heath Everson. Heath, this is Gwen. You’ve heard of her.” I gestured between them. Being active kept me from freaking out, but I wasn’t strong enough to know I wouldn’t. I just needed to keep the feeling of paralyzing fear at bay until I could be alone, preferably where neither of them would hear me scream. I looked over my sister’s face as I gave the introduction, seeing and smelling the distrust she had for my partner. “Heath is here to help because we suspected there might be werewolves involved.”
“And how is he supposed to help?” she demanded. “He’s probably just going to hand me over to them. How am I supposed to trust—”
“Heath is trustworthy. For once, I know more about something than you, so listen to me,” I snapped, annoyed at her assumption Heath was anything but trustworthy and honorable. I knew for a fact, he was both of those things and would defend him until my last breath. “Been in this world a lot longer than you, so—”
“Sure, whatever,” she snapped. “Come on. We can talk in the living room, I guess. It’s not my house.” She turned on her heel and walked further down the hallway. I followed, growling softly. Heath’s hand rubbed slowly, an obvious attempt to support and comfort me, but I walked faster, breaking the contact.
Gwen sat down on the tan couch in the middle of the farmhouse-style living room. There were animal heads on the walls, which were rich reds matched with deep browns, very earthy and warm. It was similar to Heath’s home but also foreign. It was dark, even with the lights on. I found an armchair away from my sister while Heath took the matching loveseat.
“I need you to tell me everything,” I said, my voice shaking enough to be noticeable to everyone in the room. “I need to know what happened that led you here. I need to know how you knew about Everett. I need to know how you know about me. In that order.”
Gwen’s eyes widened as I put her on the spot. For years, she was the one who controlled every conversation.
“I’ll need to break doctor-patient confi—”
“I don’t care,” I growled softly. “We’re past the point of caring about HIPAA.”
My sister nodded slowly, rubbing her hands together. “I was part of the surgery team for Alpha Vasiliev. He had a silver dagger to the chest. It had done damage to his heart, and he couldn’t heal through it.”
“Of course not,” Heath said softly. “Remove it, and he would have bled to death because of the trace amounts of silver in his system left behind that would slow healing. Keep it in, and it slowly poisoned him to death, also thanks to the silver. That’s why one would use a silver dagger, in case the initial stabbing isn’t fatal.”
“Exactly,” my twin agreed, nodding sagely as though she had heard all of this before and understood the severity of the injury. It only gave me a sense of just how much she knew—enough to be comfortable. “So, they brought him into the hospital. It was a delicate procedure on both ends, with surgery and the magic necessary to help his body correct itself. There are not many who can pull silver from the body of a moon cursed, and they’re all fae. Even then, very few fae are capable because it requires a certain amount of power and skill.”
“Depends on the bloodlines,” Heath added, pointing that information at me. “Trueborn children of Titania and Oberon, some of the different clans have a talent for it.”
I nodded. I had it done once. Trace amounts of silver had been pulled from me by a fae named Brin. It felt like an eternity ago. He’d also given me the gift of telepathic communication in my werecat form. I had always figured he was an immensely powerful fae, and now I had another little piece of evidence toward that fact, but that was a rabbit hole I never wanted to go down. Brin was gone, and I was grateful he had never come back in my life to stir up trouble. That was one of the reasons I refused to tell anyone his name. Some believed by saying a fae’s name, they could be called to who talked about them, an old superstition I took care of now.
“We were waiting on the fae, but I was called in to get the dagger out of him and quickly do a patch job on his heart to keep him from bleeding out when it was removed. He was at risk of organ failure and more with that much silver in him. Everything was going fine…until it wasn’t. He died on the operating table before the fae could make it. We all knew we needed to go on lockdown before his pack decided to take his death out on us. So far as I know, everyone in that operating room left the hospital once we reported the death and went to find our safehouses and shelters.”
“The hospital supplies those, though,” Heath said, something distrustful in his voice. “Why didn’t you go with the others, so the hospital could protect you?”
I was impressed with his knowledge of the matter. He was asking questions I didn’t know to ask and filling in gaps my sister didn’t think to.
“I know about Jacky. I figured…I could reach out, and she’s a werecat and…” Gwen gave me a desperate look. “I learned about you when you came in with the werecat ruling family, Hasan and all his children. A couple of nurses pointed you out when I was in the recovery ward, checking on another patient. I saw you but didn’t get the chance to talk to you. You left with someone and never came back. I heard that…you’re part of that family now. It was crazy, but when I asked a friend in security to show me the footage…I knew it was true.”
I opened and closed my mouth, realizing my sister only knew half the story. I looked at Heath, whose expression was unreadable. When I looked back at Gwen, I took a deep breath, knowing there was no avoiding it.
“I’m part of that family,” I confirmed. “Everett knew my number and was able to call me here because I’m a part of that family, Gwen. Hasan, ruler of the werecats and member of the Tribunal, is the werecat who Changed me. Shane and I were in an accident and rolled the car down a hill. Hasan happened to be there. He took a chance and was able to give me a second chance at life. He is, for all intents and purposes, my werecat father.” I rubbed my hands together, staring my sister down—hazel eyes to hazel eyes. We were a match in every way but species and age. “To the supernatural world, I’m Jacqueline, daughter of Hasan, and representative of the werecats in the Americas, his eyes and ears in this part of the world, and the voice to the werecats who live here when they need to speak to him.”