Frostbitten

NOAH

CLAY AND JOEY were in the hotel restaurant, deep in conversation when I entered. Or, at least, Clay was deep in conversation, explaining something, his hands waving, a slice of toast in one, crumbs flying. I headed for the buffet, but a large table of businesspeople beat me to it. Clay caught my eye and waved me over. As I approached, he kicked out a chair for me, then moved his plate between us.

"Clayton sharing his food?" Joey said with a strained smile. "Must be love."

"No, he's just trying to make a good impression. Normally, he'd be stealing mine."

Clay started sliding the plate back his way, but I caught it and held it between us.

"Clay was just telling me about Nick," Joey said. "He said he's doing graphic design for his dad's company. I'm still trying to figure out if he's joking."

"He's not. Nick seems to like it. He's got a good eye for design."

"Now, that I can see. I remember how long it took the guy to buy a shirt. I bet there are a lot of nice-looking young women working in graphic design, too."

We laughed. Five years ago, I'd have guessed that was indeed the reason for Nick's interest. But lately he'd been making changes in his life-finding a job he liked, actually showing up for it and taking a more active role in the family business.

Around the time I got pregnant, Nick had started getting restless. He'd even briefly flirted with the idea of having a child of his own, which lasted until the twins arrived and he decided babies were really a bigger plunge into the sea of domesticity than he cared to take.

Thinking of Nick reminded me that he'd left a message on my cell last night. Nothing urgent. Just touching base, looking for an update, and wanting to talk about Reese.

Clay and Joey chatted for a while longer, catching up. It wasn't the most comfortable conversation, but Joey was obviously making an effort, so Clay answered all his questions.

As the line for the buffet vanished, I went up for a plate. I came back to a silent table, as if the moment Clay finished updates, they'd hit a brick wall, the amiable mood dispersing as they realized how little they now had in common.

"So you got my message," I said as I sat.

Joey nodded and picked at his omelet, moving the mushroom pieces aside. I glanced at Clay. He shrugged and resumed eating.

Finally Joey said, "Noah isn't my brother. He's my son."

I tried not to look surprised. I shouldn't have been. It made more sense for Noah to be Joey's youthful indiscretion than Dennis's middle-aged one. It was hard, though, to imagine Joey ever being youthful enough to be indiscreet.

"Did you know about him?" I said when he didn't go on.

Joey shook his head. "I was with his mother for a few months, but I was very good about using condoms. Or so I thought. His mother… liked to drink. I'd join her sometimes, so I suppose it's not surprising that I might have forgotten a time or two. I ended the relationship because she wouldn't admit she had a problem, so nor am I surprised that she kept Noah from me. Dad was the one who found him, in a mall of all places. Noah was going to a movie. He was fifteen and starting to smell like a werewolf coming into his first Change. Dad followed him and we figured out who he was. Noah wasn't with his mom anymore. She'd sobered up and married a born-again Christian who didn't think 'love thy neighbor' extended to 'love thy new wife's son.' "

"So where was Noah living?"

Joey didn't answer for a moment, then said, "Noah has problems."

"Fetal alcohol syndrome?"

"More like FAE-fetal alcohol effects." A wan smile. "Yes, I've done my research. With Noah, it's mild symptoms. He's small for his age. He has some learning disabilities, some behavioral issues. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe just his home situation and the whole-" A glance around at surrounding tables. "The werewolf instincts kicking in and his confusion over that. When we found him, he was in a juvenile detention center. He'd been living in foster care and got mixed up with the wrong crowd, robbing gas stations. The day Dad saw him at the mall was a field trip. He still had a year left to serve, then another year in a halfway house."

Joey rubbed his hand over his mouth. "That was a tough time. Noah was coming into his powers, hormones going nuts, with no idea what was happening to him. He'd acted out a couple of times in the center. Got into some fights. Given his strength-and the fact that he had no history of violent behavior-they presumed drugs, and he had to go through testing… It was hell."

"Were you able to speak to him?"

"Eventually. His mom admitted I was his father-I think by that point she was happy to dump him onto someone else. We eased him into the truth, which, as it turned out, wasn't necessary. He jumped at the explanation. He was thrilled, even. Not a split second of disbelief."

"At that age, I suppose hearing 'you're a werewolf is much cooler than 'you're having a mental breakdown,' " I said.

Joey nodded. "That was exactly it and I… I didn't understand, which is where the problem began." He paused while the server re filled our coffees. "As I've said, my dad and I had increasingly different views on the best way to handle our condition. It wasn't always like that. Yes, for years we'd been on opposite sides of the center, and not by much. As I got older, though, I started chafing more against the restrictions. I lead a normal life-career, friends, girlfriends. Having to worry about Changing while on business trips or hiding my strength from my buddies in racquetball or being gentle with my lovers so I don't bite… " His gaze slid my way and he colored, as if he'd just jammed his foot in his mouth.

"If you're trying to live as human, there are a lot more disadvantages than advantages to being a werewolf," I said. "I've tried it my self."

"Then you know what I mean. My father always embraced that side of himself more. He's not as involved with the world as I am. Self-employed, poker buddies rather than friends, short-term girlfriends only… As he got older, he started getting into the wolf part even more. He bought the cabin, took up hiking, joined a couple of wilderness appreciation groups, got interested in our origins and mythology. My dad is… was, I guess, I should say… "

Joey's eyes unfocused, grief etching furrows around his mouth. Then he cleared his throat and straightened. "We were different. But it wasn't a big issue until Noah came along."

"Which to teach him," I said. "Overcoming it versus embracing it."

"As his father, I thought it seemed natural to teach him my way. Dad wasn't happy with that, but he couldn't argue with my logic. If Noah was going to straighten out-finish high school, maybe go to college-then 'normal' was obviously the way to go. Only Noah… "

He trailed off, his gaze going distant again.

"He'd just found out he was something special and he wasn't interested in being normal."

"I can tell you're a mother. You understand kids a lot better than I do."

"No, but I understand the point of view." I hooked a thumb at Clay.

He attempted a smile. "I guess so. And if I'd been Clay, I'm sure I would have understood Noah's perspective better. I only wanted to make things easier for him. Instead I drove him to my father, which didn't help matters."

Joey sipped his coffee, gaze down. "I took it personally. My son was picking my father, and my father was happy to have him around. I felt left out. Silly for a man my age, but that's how it was. Everyone wants to belong, and that goes for Noah more than most. He wanted a place to belong. Dad gave him that. I should have backed off. In stead, I sulked like a teenager. In the last few months, I've hardly seen either of them."

"Was Noah living with Dennis?"

Joey shook his head. "He was going to, after he got his full release. There was no way his parole officer was turning a troubled seventeen-year-old kid over to a grandfather who'd just stepped into the picture."

Seventeen… I hadn't pictured him so young, but given everything that Joey had said, that made sense.

Joey continued. "For the last six months, Noah has been spending weekends with Dad. He'd just had his first Change, and Dad was trying to help him through it." He glanced at Clay. "He used all those lessons Jeremy did with Nick and me when we were that age. The rest of the time, Noah was in a group home. On Monday, Noah's pa role officer phoned me and said he hadn't shown up Sunday night. I tried calling Dad. He didn't answer, which I figured meant he was still at the cabin. When Monday night came, I tried to drive up there but my car wouldn't make it. I wasn't worried yet. Just angry. I figured Dad had taken Noah into the backcountry and hadn't bothered coming out on time."

"Did he do that?"

Joey shook his head, frown lines deepening. "Dad was never irresponsible. I was just… In the mindset I was in, I wanted him to be irresponsible-proof I should be taking care of Noah. When Tuesday came, I started worrying. Then I got the call. From Tesler. They had Noah and started making demands."

"What did they say about your dad?" Clay asked.

"They said they had him, too. They only let me talk to Noah but… I believed them about Dad. I wanted to believe them. Then you showed up, made it to the cabin and found him."

There was more to this story, but Joey was clearly exhausted. We could wait for the rest. There was one possibility, though, that had to be raised. A difficult one. I floundered around, trying to figure out how to word it.

Then Clay jumped in and asked it for me. "Any chance Noah hooked up with these mutts himself?"

"What?" Joey's eyes went as round as his lenses.

I hurried to interject. "Not that he'd hurt Dennis himself or had any idea they were going to, but you said Noah was desperate to belong, and mutts like this will prey on the pack instinct."

"And if he's already a crim-" Clay began.

I stomped his toes. "If he's already been lured into trouble with the law, then the upheaval of the Change could lower his defenses against returning to that life, however much he may want to get out of it."

Joey's jaw worked.

I continued. "I'm not saying that's what happened or that it's even likely. But if it was another teenager in his situation, that's the first thing we'd bring up."

"You're right," he said after a moment. "But the answer is no. If Noah was still with me, and Dad wasn't in the picture, then yes, I could see it. He would have been looking for that connection, that reaffirmation, and if those mutts showed up, they might have found a very willing recruit. But Noah is crazy about my dad. More importantly, he was happy with him. As angry as he is, what he really wants is family, security." He looked down at his hands. "It's so easy to see now, but at the time… I screwed up. If I'd supported his choices, I might have been there last weekend."

"And you would have been killed like your dad," Clay said. "These guys are ruthless. The only way to fight them is with someone who's just as ruthless."

"You."

"Us," I said. "Ruthless might not be the first word anyone uses to describe me, but I have the experience and I can fight. So can we help you now?"

He paused. A long pause, gaze on his folded hands. "I'm still not convinced this is the right way to go about it, but I don't see that I have much choice. Yes, I need your help."