Which I thought, watching him there in the dark, only because it crossed my mind again how much he’d been through with both of his brothers and his father and all of this. And me. How much I expected from him as well. And how much he had delivered—again and again—and always been on my side.
What Jed and Zar had done was perfectly normal for who they were. The same with Jason—lashing out at me and Jed when he was upset. I was the one who had built a story for all of them in my own head—how they should behave to fit my expectations. They’d never read those memos.
Zar folded his shirt, looking down at it in the gloom. “Uh…” he said again. “Isaac? Um…” He folded into a square that practically vanished in his hands. He glanced at Isaac and back down. “I … uh… I’m sorry about … what happened.” He nodded as if this settled the matter. I couldn’t see his expression but could tell he still wasn’t looking at us.
Isaac lifted his chin off his own tail to look at him.
Zar cleared his throat again. “I don’t know everything. I don’t know how it can snow in Sussex sometimes when it’s above freezing. I don’t know how the tides always hear Moon’s whispers. I don’t understand all of Moon’s teachings in a modern age, and how we can always best live up to them when we are supposed to be free with our songs and hunts. I don’t understand how you … are…” Quickly shaking his head, finally looking up. “But I’m as grateful for you here, with us, as for the tides. For all the times you’ve watched out for Cass. For your contributions ever since you came to the Sable Pack. For helping us when you didn’t have to stay in the pack … after things got rough last winter.”
Isaac sat up so I couldn’t see Zar anymore.
“Cassia’s right. You’re part of our pack. It shouldn’t matter if you’re a wolf or a human or a bear or a dragon. I’m glad you’re here for Cass, and always have been. I didn’t come up here because I don’t trust you on guard. I came because … I should have been here in the first place. I still don’t understand. But life is that way sometimes. It doesn’t mean you turn your back on the snowfall when the temperature is wrong… Or … at least you shouldn’t.” His breaths sounded short after trying to get everything out. “Sorry.”
A long silence, Zar presumably staring at the carpet.
Isaac shifted his weight and extended his left forepaw. He was ambidextrous, almost as if he got his left hand from a wolf, right from a human.
Zar took a step and I could see his side and face then, still downturned as he took Isaac’s paw and shook it.
“Thanks,” Zar mumbled, then retreated to pull off his black jeans and change.
I waited until Zar was out, scratched at the carpet a few times, circled, and curled up against the door with a sigh.
Then I slipped from bed again, newly warmed up, and crept over to him.
Zar lifted his fluffy head to gaze up at me.
I cupped his chin in my hand, his whiskers tickling my skin, and kissed him gently between the eyes.
Back in bed, I kissed Isaac and again huddled down. I could tell Zar about Icelandic wolves tomorrow. Now, I wasn’t sure I could talk. Yet I couldn’t sleep either.
Chapter 31
We tried the door of 77 Rue du Raccourci first thing in the morning. There didn’t seem to be any point in stealth. If these people were around, they probably already knew we were looking for them. We would try asking if they knew anything—no accusations, no mention of murders. Only about the reavers. As Andrew pointed out, even if only wild mages could create the things they might have taught others, or even sell the undead beasts like dogs. In this case, mercenary killing machines.
Zar did not agree with the random mercenaries idea, pointing out that the whole pattern was inclusive. The killers murdered with cut throats to kill shifters, stakes to destroy vampires, and cut out eyes to claim the spirits of the kindred. It was a complete picture: it all made sense, finally lining up as to why the methods were the way they were. Someone was bent on taking out the magical triad wherever they could reach. And they could reach far. That bit about eastern Europe had raised all kinds of questions.
More than ever, it drove me up the wall that the shifter community was not more closely knit. How much were we missing just because we didn’t know where all people had died?
Much as we appreciated the druids trying to help, that was another weird thing. If it was the magical triad, why druids? If these people wanted to go after any humans, why wasn’t it casters? Were they working up to casters? Did they see the druids as more connected to the world of shifters and faie? Had those druids only been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Sacred groves with the faie, for example?
Neither Rowan nor Orion knew. This was a problem because, with our latest theory of shifters working with casters struck down by finding reavers instead of wolves, I was back to wanting a motive to find the killer.
Secretive wild mages in Paris? The hidden alchemists and mad scientists?
Legend went, they used to capture faie for their work. But that was in ancient times. It was hard to imagine them living beside mundanes now at all, much less doing it and conducting their experiments or catching and animating faie.
It was also hard to imagine knocking on their door and asking what they were up to.
We spread out a little along the edge of a tiny park to watch and wait. I’d looked up that Square Marechal Joffre. Joffre had been the French military commander-in-chief during World War One. Not that it should have meant anything. Yet … history and all that… Dreams I still hadn’t forgotten; rows of graves.
I left another voicemail for Stefan, now worrying about him as well. This time, I gave some details of what we were up to, hoping that might entice him to call back. With the possible exception of Richard, of Broomantle, Stefan had more connections in the caster community than anyone I knew. Surely if someone knew about wild mages still being around, he did. If only he’d answer his phone.
I had two chocolate croissants and black coffee for breakfast. The rest, attuned to the free food when any meal was included in a stay, had eaten at the hotel and also each got croissants and macarons—Andrew bought out the salted caramel ones—when we’d stopped at a recommended patisserie. My stomach still felt fine and I was grateful.
I sat with Zar on a bench for my breakfast, backs to the house across the street, but with the others watching it, a little distance to the left and right, in earshot for them. I told Zar about the Icelandic wolves. Nothing personal about Isaac’s life where possible, but about the speculation regarding this gene pool and the doctor who was also a wolf and tried to make a study of it—with hardly any subjects to examine.
Zar listened quietly until I said, “I really respect that you’re trying to deal with this and come to terms with it. You’re wise, Zar. You haven’t told your mom or anyone at home?”
He shook his head.
“Will Jed?”
“I don’t know.” Zar dropped his gaze.
Jason and Andrew watched us off and on, listening from afar. Isaac watched the house. A couple people with dogs trotted past. The two terriers strained to sniff at Zar. Another human pair went past the other way with cigarettes trailing smoke as they gestured with quick hands. I couldn’t understand a word they said, which all seemed to be on fast forward.
“We can talk to Jed too,” Zar said quietly after a moment. “We’ll be back in Ambleside to get them as soon as we leave here, right?”
I wished we could stop and see Melanie, check in, but I nodded. “Yes. I hope he’ll listen. I can’t believe he did that. If you have a personal grievance or concern about someone at least try a private conversation first…”
“I believe it.” Zar picked a cream-colored hair from his own undercoat off his black jeans and watched it flutter to the sidewalk. “It wouldn’t be like Jed to have a heart-to-heart about something before lashing out. He’s never liked Isaac, either.”
“Why? Isaac saved his life.”
One-sided shrug, now
looking away across the park. “Outsider? Maybe Isaac reminds him of that night. He still hasn’t forgiven the pack for killing our dad. But he was seen over and over. He bit a human child… They had to take action. Jed had always been nasty. He was even a mean pup. Gabe used to stand up for me if Jed took something from me or teased things I was interested in. Gabe held us together. When Jed went through Moon’s transition and Gabe left … any sense of stability was over. That changed Jed. Once he found fur he knew he was a stranger too. He could be like our dad: spend almost all his time in fur. Only, most strangers don’t have the luxury of staying in fur. They’re so miserable in skin, so angry, feel so trapped, that they get into trouble like drinking. Dangerous also. I’m not surprised about what he did, but I’m sorry.”
“How many times in your life have you apologized for him?”
Zar pushed back his hair and rubbed his upper arm. “A fair few.”
“Have you ever thought that he’s following the story the Sables created for him? If someone is told he’s a bad guy sometimes he falls into that role. You’re not surprised by what he did. But I am. I know him well enough to see he is capable of compassion and love and even being happy—albeit in fur. Total wolves are not mean and vindictive and hurtful to their packmates. Supposedly that’s who he wants to model himself after: a total wolf. An alcoholic, vicious stranger is the story he’s learned. Even though it’s been how many years since he drank or caused trouble with your dad or Kage?”
“Not since they killed him. I don’t think Jed ever had another drink.”
“Zar, I don’t want to impose on this. Maybe we could both talk with Jed about the hybrid thing and what he did … but did you know Jed told me he was trying to stop his father from drinking? Trying to stop him from going into Brighton or doing other stupid stuff? Not running around with him for fun?”
Shrug. “Either way, he drank and ended up in the thick of it. I tried to stop our dad too. Not by sharing a bottle and chasing sheep with him.”
“Fair point. Everyone in this pack needs a chance to have their story heard. If you and I both start listening to Jed—”
Isaac moved onto the sidewalk in my peripheral vision. I whipped around in time to see an older but brisk man just climbing the steps to 77 Rue du Raccourci.
I jumped up.
As the man was shutting the door, we were all dashing across the street, jaywalking at risk to life and limb. We reached it only seconds after he’d slammed it. I knocked with my hand, then the knocker. We waited.
Again, the iron knocker echoed. I didn’t see a bell.
No one came to the door.
“Try getting the locks by magic?” Andrew asked. “Worked with the vampires.”
“You mean open the door? Break and enter?” I asked.
Andrew shrugged. “Not to pillage the place…”
“Let’s not stick our necks out any farther than we have to yet.” I knocked once more before we retreated to the park.
Another vigil.
This time, Andrew ended up beside me at the bench, easing out Zar, who hadn’t meant to give up the position. I was finishing off the last gulps of coffee, stuffing the cup and croissant papers in my paper bag, and looking for a garbage can.
“There’s a bin at the corner, darling.” Andrew jerked his head down the sidewalk, took the bag from me, and pushed it into Zar’s chest.
Zar took it to the bin.
I sighed. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.”
“Oh, any time, Cassiopeia. My pleasure, I assure you. Care to walk?”
I was stepping off to wander as a misty drizzle started. This scrap of park—between the two big ones of the pet cemetery, Cimetière des Chiens, and Square Marechal Joffre—was little more than a strip of green and a statue of a man holding up a book in the center. Enough to stretch our legs and get out of earshot of the others.
“How have you been feeling?” Andrew continued casually.
I shot him a look. We were still close to everyone. “Head is better. Arm really achy, but I think I’ll quit with the sling in a few more days. Doing better than I imagined considering…”
“Excellent. You’ve had a rough—”
My phone was ringing, and I pulled it from my bag while he was talking. “Sorry. This is important. Hello? Stefan? Isn’t it the middle of the night for you?”
“What harebrained nonsense are you up to now, girl? Scrying unwilling targets? Now wild mages in Paris? Do you have a death wish?”
“Listen, Stefan, I’m sure you know more about them than I do. I didn’t even know there still were any. But my friends and I were attacked—”
“You were attacked by wild mages! The gods protect you, Cassia! What are you—?”
“No, no, we were attacked by reavers. Murdered and reanimated faie.”
“No.” Flat.
“Yes, we were.”
“No.”
“We were, Stefan. Several witnesses.”
“And you all survived?”
“We thought these mages possibly used to make reavers, and there may be a group of modern ones in Pairs. Do you know anything about that?”
Silence.
“Stefan?”
“You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.”
“Couldn’t you just tell me without that?”
“No! You show up back home after over a month, someone is attacking your scries, you need help, you won’t say who or what, now someone has sent reavers to kill you and you somehow got away? If you want help you’re going to have to tell me what’s happening. If you don’t want help you’re going to die! What the hell are you doing?”
I swallowed. “I’ll … call you back. Is that okay? I’m out in Paris right now. I could call tonight from the hotel room. It will be daytime for you then. We’re just trying to find these mages. You don’t happen to know…?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard they’re in Paris. Paris, Moscow, and Cape Town. If they’re in this country they’re not organized. Not that I’ve heard.”
“Any idea where in Paris?”
“Why don’t you Google them? That’s what young people do.”
“Stefan—”
“No, I don’t know where they are. Nor will you find them without a written invitation—”
“I scried and it led us to an address. I’m just not—”
“No.”
“—sure if it’s true.”
“Someone beat you with the crazy stick, girl? You can’t have scried them if they didn’t want you to and, if they did want you, it’s a trap. You need to back off from people like that before—”
“We’re running out of leads. I need to find them.”
“Leads for what?”
“There have been murders in the magical community in Europe. I’ll tell you later. In the meantime, if you have any ideas, if you know anyway—”
“Oh, right, I’ll call up all my wild mage friends, have them over to the bar, ask how things are going.”
“Just Paris in general. Someone might know something. Please, Stefan. People are dying. We need help.”
“Who’s we?”
“Please.”
A gusty sigh. “I know casters in Pairs. I’ll call.”
“Discreetly. Thank you.”
“You better have a damn good story for me tomorrow, young lady.”
“I will. I’ll call tonight—my time.”
“If you don’t, want to give me the number of your roommate?”
“What?”
“Or family? Anyone? I’ll have to assume you’re dead if I don’t hear back from you.”
“Oh.” I stopped along the sidewalk, staring up at the statue with Andrew at my side, the others now far behind, watching the old house. “I … um … yeah. Hang on. I think I can get into my address book without hanging up on you. Give it some time, all right? I might call really late.” I gave him Melanie’s and Preeda’s numbers and reiterated that he need not rush into anything. “I’ll call. Don�
��t worry about it.”
Stefan snorted.
“Have you been out to the coast again?” I asked.
“What?”
“No phone?”
“Went out to Mount Hood with the coven for a couple days, then couldn’t be bothered to get back on the electric addicters until tonight.”
“Oh … okay. I’ll call you later. Thanks, Stefan.”
“Gods, girl, you be careful.” Voice dropped to a whisper after all the shouting.
“I will. I … have people looking after me.” I had to swallow again.
Off the phone, slipping it back in my purse, I felt that pressure in my chest. So many whispers lately, hunter and hunted, truth and lies, light and dark, searching, struggling, crumbling. But we weren’t dead yet. We hadn’t been stopped. We couldn’t let crumbling from within break our chances of success without.
I took a deep breath through my mouth and forced a smile for Andrew. “He said he’ll talk to casters he knows—”
“I heard, darling.” Andrew did not smile as he stared back at me.
I felt mine slide and nodded.
“You didn’t say you thought they could be that bad,” Andrew said.
“I really don’t know anything about them now. They’re like the … ancient druids who practiced human sacrifice and fought against the Roman invasion of Britain. That doesn’t mean they have much noticeable correlation to modern druids. Same with these mages. Who knows what they’re like now?”
“We shouldn’t be here—”
“No, we should. What else are we going to do?”
“How about some help? What about other casters?”
“Who would we ask? Who would we trust? Andrew, casters are in on this. We don’t know for sure they’re wild mages, much less these exact ones, but we know casters are involved. We can’t just call up someone at Broomantle and ask for volunteers.”
“You can trust your Portland friends and they seem to think you’re daft—”
“Stefan doesn’t know the story, what’s at stake, how important this is.”
“He knows part of what’s at stake,” Andrew snapped, facing me directly, his voice hushed but sharp. “Like your life. Let’s go back to the hotel—go sightsee, whatever. Wait until he talks to his friends here. Maybe we could see them. Maybe—”
Moonlight Whispers: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 8) Page 21
