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As much as she didn’t want to, Katana had to admit that Ashely’s secrets did in fact make her pretty little head spin.
What he claimed seemed so outrageous she wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the fact she’d just seen for herself he was a phoenix.
But that wasn’t it.
When he was re-born he carried with him a certain musk that even without Jacques finely tuned nose, Katana could pick up on.
“They were your tracks earlier today, weren’t they?” Jacques asked, laid on his belly with one paw crossed over the other. “And last night.”
Ashley nodded. “Guilty as charged.”
“So what the hell are you?” Katana said, narrowing her eyes at him. She had her tanto in her hands still, just in case. If necessary, she knew she could stick him with it and buy herself twenty minutes of a head-start. “More to the point, how do we know it wasn’t you that killed that little girl?” She pointed the tip of her blade at him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I am a phoenix-werewolf hybrid. You don’t know it wasn’t me and you don’t have to trust me either. I’m not going to sit here begging.”
Katana glanced over at Jacques. She hadn’t decided yet how his lack of information sharing had affected their relationship.
She was hurt, she knew that much, but how to approach the subject with him was still an enigma to her right now. However, that didn’t make him immune from her need to probe information.
“Right, you—” Katana pointed her blade at Jacques “—start talking. Sharpish. I think I’ve waited long enough.”
Jacques met her eyes with a hard, flat stare.
Katana balked. She’d never seen such an empty predatory stare on his face.
“I’m not a wolf, Katana,” he said. “And neither are any of the others—not even Dylan or Calhoun. We’re all shifters.”
Katana’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “But the...but the witches...they take you and train you...help you speak...”
Jacques shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. No wild wolves magickally turned into domestic speaking servants. Every single one of us, even your father’s precious Ricaldo, is a shifter.”
“But...but you don’t shift,” she said, trying to process the enormity of what he was saying. “You’re always a wolf.”
“I know,” he said, nodding. “We’re stuck like this.” He sighed. “We are all Gregory experiments.”
Katana gasped, inhaling at such a rate she made herself choke. “Gregory? As in geeky scientist, Gregory?”
“One and the same.”
Switching her attention to Ashley, she said, “Did you know this?”
“What answer gives me bonus points?” he asked, flashing her a smile.
“So where do you fit in?”
He stood up and gave an exuberant bow. “I am subject number H5A2.”
“Wait, what? You’re also a Gregory experiment?” Katana stood up and started pacing back and forth across the damp earth. Looking at her watch, it was close to midnight already and all she’d managed to do was find herself in a deeper hole than before she’d even come out here. “I don’t understand this. You’re telling me that Gregory has been testing on people. Is that right?”
“It goes way back. Further than you think,” Ashley said. “It goes right back to the beginning. Where did you think werewolves came from?”
That stopped Katana in her tracks. “Henry? You’re telling me it goes right back to Henry Kempe?”
He nodded. “Werewolves aren’t natural, Katana. They’re man-made.”
“But...but we’ve always been told...” Katana stopped and paused, sieving through her memories for what hunters were taught about werewolves. “We’re told they’re freaks of nature. Rabid beasts that feed on people.” She frowned. “Are you telling me they’re actually people?”
Ashley and Jacques exchanged a glance. Ashley looked back at Katana and nodded. “Yes. Every single one.”
Katana looked at Jacques. The fact he wouldn’t meet her eye contact told her he knew about this. To say she felt betrayed would be an understatement. “But...how? I get it with Gregory—he’s a scientist, he experiments, but they didn’t have science back in them days.”
“No, they had magick instead. Why don’t you take a seat?” Ashley said, motioning towards the grassy floor. “And I’ll tell you a story.”