“That is a compelling list,” I conceded, sighing. “I know, you’re right. All I can really do is help Jesse and hope it blows over.”
He stood up suddenly, dropping my hands, and went to pace around the big open area on the floor. “This is all my fault,” he muttered.
“Don’t be stupid.”
He paused, turning to face me. “If I hadn’t eaten those cookies, you wouldn’t have—” he began.
“You can stop right there. You didn’t change Lydia, Caroline did,” I interrupted. I had a weird urge to stand up and pace too, of all things, but it would only make my leg worse, so I settled for playing with my phone, flipping it over and over in my hands. “If you hadn’t eaten the wolfberry, Lydia would be just as changed.”
He looked away. “Those three people would be alive.”
“But they’re not,” I said frankly. “They’re dead. And that’s on Olivia, not on you.”
He paced again, fingers curling into fists and out again. “I should have kept control.”
I threw up my hands. “Stop,” I ordered. Looking surprised, he did. I pointed to the chair. “Please, sit. You’re giving me vicarious leg pain.” He sat. “Sure, if it was possible for you to keep control, that would have been great,” I went on. “But you know that it wasn’t, Eli. You also know that none of this would have happened if Olivia hadn’t bumped into me on the street ten years ago. Or if she wasn’t thirsty for a kid she couldn’t have. Or if she’d never moved to LA.” He had dropped his hands and was staring at me. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “Do you want more? I could do this all day. Or, you know, we could stop trying to figure out where it all went wrong and actually look at what’s happening now.”
We sat there, staring at each other, and I had absolutely no idea what Eli was going to do—cry, scream, throw something at me. But after a moment another smile began to spread very slowly across his face. “You’re different,” he said, with quiet delight.
I couldn’t help it; I grinned back. “Not for nothing, but I think shooting your mortal enemy in the chest will do that to a person,” I allowed.
Eli nodded. “That’s some serious closure,” he said gravely, trying to keep a straight face.
“Closure’s my bitch.”
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. Then without saying anything, he bent forward, gently scooped up my injured left leg, and placed it on his knee. “You should be elevating this,” he lectured. A long time ago, Eli had been a paramedic. I smiled. “So,” he continued. “What do you need to know about werewolves?”
Oh, right. “Jesse will probably have his own questions,” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t excited about the two of them getting in a room together. “But for starters, Will keeps saying that the pack is unstable. What exactly does that mean, unstable?”
He tilted his head, gathering his thoughts. “Packs get unstable for a lot of reasons,” Eli began, “but most of them have to do with the alpha. He’s weak, or he dies suddenly, or he abuses his power. When that happens, the werewolves’ magic gets all lopsided all of a sudden. Fights break out, pack hierarchy is challenged, control weakens . . .” He winced. “It’s not good.”
“Wait, back up. What do you mean the magic gets lopsided?”
“Oh, right.” He smiled briefly. “Sorry, it’s weird to actually talk about this stuff. It’s like explaining what it’s like to have hair or something. What I mean is, an alpha is the leader of the wolf pack based on a few factors: physical power, magical power—which usually includes control of his wolf form—but also qualities like leadership, authority, kindness. But most important is that the pack agrees that he’s alpha. Think of it like . . .” He paused, considering for a moment, and continued, “A magic-based shield, made out of fused patches. Each pack member contributes a patch, and when cobbled together, they make Will stronger and more powerful. He in turn uses the shield to protect the pack.”
I looked at him for a long moment, working on the metaphor. “So the patches are like . . . their acknowledgment of him? As their alpha?”
He released my hand and twisted his fingers in the air, looking for words. “Acknowledgment, yes, but also their belief in him. In his ability to do the job. It’s all subconscious and almost automatic, but basically every pack member gives up a tiny piece of their magic, their own relationship with their wolf. That power, collected from the pack, builds the alpha’s shield.”
“So it’s like a self-feeding system. They believe he’s the alpha so he can be the alpha so they believe he’s the alpha.” Eli nodded. I frowned. “And when the pack gets unstable?”
“When a pack member stops trusting in the alpha, that magic is returned to him. But it’s also taken away from the alpha, creating a little hole in the shield.”
“And the more pack members who lose faith in the alpha, the more holes in the shield,” I said, understanding.
“I know, it’s weird,” Eli said, shrugging a little. “Wild wolves have this complex pack structure, and werewolves are emotionally and socially even more complicated than wild wolves. That gap, between wolf and werewolf, is filled in by magic.”
Huh. That explained why Will was looking so haggard lately, and why he’d been so busy. He was trying to get the pack’s faith back.