“But I’ll only agree to it,” Nathan says, turning fully at the waist to face Minna, “if you agree that you won’t drink directly from me and this is the only time you’ll ever drink of my blood.”

That seems to have sparked an unexpected reaction. Minna’s smug face collapses.

Nathan, clearly the one in control now unfolds his tanned, muscled arms and walks toward her. “Take it or leave it,” he says. “She knows as well as I do that there won’t be any other desperate werewolves lining up at her door to do it anytime soon, and time is something she doesn’t have.” His eyes never leave Minna, who is slinking more and more into her chair.

“Fine,” Minna spats out the word, “I agree to your terms.”

“Nathan,” Isaac says, “as Alpha, I forbid you to do this.”

Nathan turns to face Isaac and I feel my body stiffening as they stand toe to toe.

“I respect you as my leader and my brother,” Nathan says, “but if you don’t let me do this, you’re risking Adria’s life.”

Isaac looks away from him.

“You know it, man,” Nathan goes on. “The traitor is the reason for everything, for the attack in the car that almost killed her, for the Blood Bond, for everything. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s obvious that this Praverian has it out for Adria more than anyone.”

“I know!” Isaac roars, startling me with both his voice and his admission. “I know….” His voice calms and his rigid body loosens, his shoulders falling. He looks away from Nathan and gazes down at the floor. “I’ve known this since Genna told us all about the traitor. I’ve known, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Then you know I have to do this,” Nathan says stepping up to his brother and softening his voice. “I would do it for either of you.”

“I’ll do it then,” Isaac says.

I stiffen.

“Oh hell no you won’t,” Nathan argues, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve already been bonded. That would cause worse emotional repercussions than it would if I did it.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” I speak up. “Apparently it’s all about me, right? Then I should have a say.” I cross my arms.

Minna hacks and coughs into a tissue, but no one pays her any attention.

“Sure, doll,” Nathan says with a playful grin, “you can say whatever you want. Get it all out. But it won’t change anything.”

I march right over to him and stand looking up at his tall height with my arms crossed angrily. “But what about that emotional stuff?” I say, gritting my teeth. I look over at Isaac once too, letting them both know I need answers no matter which of them I get them from. “You risking your life for mine sort of makes this my business, therefore I should have a say.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Nathan says, “if I’m not letting her drink directly from me, that takes out the intimate factor at least.”

Minna waves her hand in front of her. “As much as I’d love to drink from those delicious veins of his, I’ll settle with a cup.”

“Disgusting,” I say snarling across at her.

Isaac finally jumps in, “…And since Nathan won’t be sharing his blood with her but this once, that might lessen the emotional trauma,” he glares at Minna with the emphasis of that word.

“You’re agreeing to this?” I say, disappointed.

Isaac steps up to me, taking my hands. I can tell by how thoughtful and regretful his expression reads that he’s about to give me one of those why-he-has-to-do-it speeches, but I shake my head and pull away from him.

“Don’t…,” I say, putting up my hand. “Isaac, do you have any idea how it feels to be the cause of so many people you love getting hurt?”

“Baby—”

“Stop!” I say, moving farther back away from him and crossing my arms. “Don’t you understand? My shoulders are full. I can’t carry anymore.” I feel like I want to cry, and in a situation like this I normally would tear up, but I can’t. I’m angrier than anything. And something wrenches at my insides and I quickly realize that I’m on the verge of shifting into my mediate form so I try to calm myself fast. Deep breaths. I shut my eyes and just breathe.

“Wow,” Minna gloats from behind, “I don’t need my TV shows to keep me entertained, I’ve got all the drama I need right here, live in my living room.”

I storm over with black, swirling eyes and just before I reach out, intent on knocking the old hag from the chair, Isaac grabs me around my waist from behind and pulls me back.

Nathan steps in-between me and Minna.

I allow my body to calm and my eyes to shift back to their natural color and only then does Isaac release his hold on me.

“Fine,” I rip the word out, “let’s be done with this. I want this traitor caught so that maybe we can all get on with our lives.” I glare down at Minna, but her face remains full of malice despite being in a room with three werewolves who despise her. I figure she doesn’t have anything to lose anymore and all she has left are her treacherous ways so she might as well make the best use of them.

I turn away and walk to stand near the glass curio cabinet, absently staring in at all of the different elephant figurines. Vaguely, I can hear the television still playing somewhere else in the house, but I’m too infuriated for it or any other unsolicited noises to amplify the volume. There’s another shelf next to me holding a mountain of books; everything covered in a thick layer of dust.

“How are we gonna’ know,” Isaac says, “If whatever you tell us to do to trap the Praverian is actually going to work?”

“Good question,” Nathan adds. “If I bond you to me and this trap is a bust, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Minna says and I turn at the waist to see her because I detect a malicious grin in her voice. “You can’t kill me; we all know that.”

Unsettled by this information, I take a few steps back over to them so that I know I won’t miss any of the conversation, including facial expressions.

“Maybe he can’t,” Isaac says, “but I will kill you.”

“Why can’t he?” I finally say, standing behind them with my arms crossed loosely.

“Just like I knew I couldn’t hurt you all that time you were bonded to me,” Isaac says, “they won’t be able to hurt one another, either.”

“Well, that’s easily fixed,” I say, stepping up farther so that Minna can see the threat in my face. “Just like Isaac said, if Nathan can’t deal with you, then we will.”

Minna stands up again, though very slowly. “You’re a cocky little bitch, I have to say.”

Minna makes a fraught choking sound as Nathan’s hand grips firmly around her throat. I know it would’ve been Isaac standing there if Nathan hadn’t of been closer to her than Isaac when she said what she said. Her thin, bony hands come up, gripping his wrist, clawing at it futilely.

“Pl…please!” she begs between breaths; her eyes are starting to roll into the back of her head. “I-I’m s-orry!” She coughs and chokes, tiny droplets of saliva spewing out.

Nathan releases her and she falls to the floor, but this time no one is running to help catch her.

Holding her sickly body up with one hand, she raises the other to her throat, rubbing the area where Nathan’s hand had been. She looks up at us, never really losing that cold, malicious grin and she says, “It will work. I’m not going anywhere, even after the blood heals me. I’ve lived in this house for forty-years.” She pushes herself to her feet and catches her breath. “And so soon you three forget what I am.”

“An old witch,” I say, smirking.

She smirks right back at me. “I’m a Harvester,” she says, barely letting on that the title ‘witch’ actually offended her. “I live to trap and reap these bastards, these dangerous beings that you three so blindly trust.” She walks toward the exit that leads back into the kitchen and stops in the doorway. “I’ll get you a cup.”

Nathan walks over to the coffee table and takes up his coffee mug. Minna stops before leaving the room completely and watches him curiously.

“Here,” Nathan says. He pours his coffee into the flower pot of a nearby fake plant sitting on the floor. “This’ll do just fine.” And then without even pausing to think about it, a razor-sharp black fingernail juts out at the tip of his finger and he slashes the skin on the under-part of his lower-arm just above the wrist. Blood oozes out of the wound in a stream of thick, heavy crimson; a few droplets staining the carpet at his feet just before he positions the mug underneath his arm to catch it. I stare at his blood filling up the mug so quickly; my eyes slanted horrifically, my fingertips dancing on my parted lips.

Minna walks right past me and toward Nathan, leaving the smell of Aspercreme in her wake, but I don’t budge, not even to move out of her way. I’m in a sort of grossed-out mild shock.

She goes to reach for the mug, but Nathan pulls back his hand. “The blood is out of my veins,” he says, holding the bloody mug away from her reach, “I’d say that’s the half-way mark. You give us what we need and you can have it.”

I feel the heat of Isaac’s body behind me now, pressing into my back. His heart is hurting for his brother and it’s crushing me. Without taking my eyes off Nathan and Minna, I turn my body at an angle so that I can press myself deeper into Isaac’s chest. He holds me so tight that I feel like I’m the only thing standing between him and Minna and his need to take revenge on her. But Isaac knows that what Nathan said was true, that he has to do this, and it’s not just for me; it’s for all of us.

“Follow me,” Minna says with the curl of her finger. She glances over at me and Isaac to indicate that we can come, too.

That was never even a question. We would’ve followed with or without her permission.

Hesitantly, Nathan sets the mug, dripping with blood down the sides, onto the coffee table and then covers his forearm with the other hand to help stop the blood flow.

Minna walks us through to the large kitchen area and I see that this isn’t a house really at all, but a genuine elephant museum. It’s disturbing how many she has, littered everywhere as we pass into a dark hallway. Even all of the pictures lining both walls down the length of the hallway are of elephants. I don’t recall seeing a single portrait of a human being anywhere in this house. Maybe she has no family. Or, maybe they all disowned her and so she took their pictures down and threw them out with the garbage.

We follow Minna into a utility room where an old rickety door stands embedded in the wall locked by a simple slide-lock. “Don’t touch anything,” she says turning to face us and sliding back the little metal lever. The door clicks open to reveal a set of stairs that descend down into darkness. Minna reaches over and flips a switch on the wall and a dim glowing light floods the basement floor.