Secret Wolves: Supernatural Shifter Academy Series

by Bailey, G.

  My eyes widen. “Edith?” Relaxing a little, I hurry up to her. Even if she does still hate me, at least she’s another living being, and right now, that feels like a matter of increasing importance. “Edith, it’s me, Millie Brix.” When at last she’s in reach, I touch her shoulder hesitantly, not wanting to startle her.

  The moment my hand makes contact with her arm, Edith crumples to the ground on her back, as stiff as a board. She’s dead, I realize, and my heart stops in my chest. Her green eyes are glassy and staring, and her flesh is rotting. I recoil in horror, stumbling backwards and falling into the sand in my haste to get away from the body. The moment I turn around, however, I’m greeted by the sight of dozens—no, hundreds—of other bodies lining the beach, all rotting, all dead, and all staring at me with those same blank, glassy eyes. It’s only as I start to flee that I realize I recognize the faces: Samantha, Silas’ parents, the old registrar worker, Mrs. Fairbanks. There are others, too, people whose names I don’t know but whose faces I know: they’re all shifters I’ve fought somewhere along the line, all under the sway of the humans, and all deceased.

  Feeling like I’m running in slow motion, I race along the beach, but no matter how hard I run, more corpses appear around me. It’s just as I’m rounding the corner that I notice four more corpses lining the shoreline, and I don’t have to see them clearly to know who they are. Still, I can’t stop myself from approaching them, my skin clammy and my breath coming in wheezing gasps.

  The bodies of Silas, Landon, Hunter, and Shade are all lined up in a neat row, and all staring up at me. I open my mouth, but no words come out, so I do the only thing I can: I start to scream.

  I sit bolt upright in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest and sucking in a choking breath. I’m shaking, gasping, my knuckles white from the strength of my grip on the sheets, terror still coursing through me, unstoppable. A strangled noise escapes me, which is followed by a wave of unbidden tears.

  The feeling of strong arms encircling me almost startles me, but I’m only able to calm down when I hear Shade’s familiar voice rumbling in my ear. “Boots, Boots, hey, take it easy. It was only a dream. It was only a dream…” He continues to murmur reassurances to me, stroking my hair as I lean into his embrace and desperately try to shake off the remaining images from the nightmare.

  I’m not sure how long we stay like that, leaning on each other as the wolf shifter soothes me, but eventually, I’m somehow able to find my voice. “I’m sorry,” I gasp, my trembling finally starting to ease up. “I don’t know what… It felt so real… I thought you were—I th-thought you guys were—”

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Shade says, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I’m here. We’re all here. We’re okay.”

  His words are enough to calm me back down, but even as I settle back into bed, secure in the wolf shifter’s arms, a horrible possibility occurs to me. What if that wasn’t a dream? What if it was a premonition?

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Boots?” Hunter asks as we make our way down the street in search of an isolated spot to make the jump to the research facility. He and the others have been giving me concerned glances ever since I told them about the nightmare. “You look really worn out.”

  “I am really worn out,” I admit, “but… thank you for your concern. I mean it.” Forcing a smile, I glance around at the guys, who have been flanking me protectively since we left the hotel. “The stress is getting to me, I think.”

  Sure, that’s one way to put it, but the truth is that there’s more to it than stress. The nightmare has been eating at me all day, and I’ve only now identified what about it was bothering me so much: all the corpses littering the beach were people who could have—and probably were—brainwashed by Hawthorne. And all of them were people I had to fight through in order to get to where I am today. What that means for the guys is something I don’t dare to even let myself consider. It’s all too horrible to think about, but I’m not about to bring it up with the guys. Instead, I do what I do best: shove it to the back of my mind, compartmentalize, and ignore the possibility that, somewhere along the line, everyone I know and love has the potential to turn into my enemy.

  Unless we put a stop to this.

  “Are you sure you’re good to teleport us?” Silas asks, brushing the back of his hand against my cheek. “Maybe it’s better if we go alone.”

  “He’s right,” Landon says, his tone surprisingly somber for someone who’s usually so lighthearted. It’s clear that Shade didn’t spare any details of my early morning breakdown, and while I appreciate their concern for me, their own assessment of the risk doesn’t bode well for their chances without me going.

  “You’re starting to sound like Theo,” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood a little. I see Shade’s face darken when I mention the hybrid, but after what happened last night, he seems much more at ease with our relationship.

  “We don’t want to see you get hurt, Boots,” Hunter tells me gently, taking my hand in both of his. “And it’s obvious this is eating at you. You know we would do anything to keep you safe.”

  “I know,” I reply, my eyes sweeping down to the ground. “That’s the problem.” Holding out my other hand, I nod to the others. The guys exchange an uncertain glance, but they follow my lead, forming a circle for the transport. Without another word, I close my eyes and let myself focus on that dreadful place where I almost lost everything that I am.

  There’s a telltale rush, a subtle shift, and then we’re standing on the lush green grass of a field we narrowly escaped from not long ago. A chill runs down my spine as I look around; this is the same island from my dream, down to the very last detail. If that isn’t a bad omen, I don’t know what is, but it’s too late to go back now.

  “Remember the plan,” says Shade. “We have to act enchanted, and mean it. No pulling punches, no matter what.” His eyes meet mine.

  “No matter what,” I echo, nodding. It’s showtime.

  Chapter 95

  Somehow, I make my legs move, choking back the cold, hard lump that is threatening to form in my throat. Everything about where I am feels surreal, and I have to remind myself not to present any nervousness as we make our way down the slightly sloping ground into the center of the field. The instinct to hide, to protect myself, is almost unbearable out in the open, and I can’t help but wonder what kinds of enemies are watching us from the trees just beyond my line of sight. The crashing of the waves on the faraway rocks doesn’t go unnoticed, and I strain to project an air of calm collectedness in spite of the terror that’s threatening to overtake me.

  “How are brainwashed people supposed to act, anyway?” Landon hisses out of the corner of his mouth as we make our way down the hill.

  “No idea,” I reply, doing my best not to let my nerves show. The last thing I need is for it to rub off on the guys and get one of them hurt. I’m not about to let that dream become reality. “Just act normal. Calm.”

  “Easier said than done,” Shade mutters, but none of us say anything else. We’re all too busy sweating bullets.

  It’s eerily quiet, the same way it was in my head last night, and part of me is desperate to have the suspense over with, for some hunter to jump out from the shadows and confront us, but it’s dead silent. It doesn’t occur to me until we’re almost to the other side of the field that this facility might not even still be active, but I don’t allow myself to pursue that line of thought. Theo’s information is good. It has to be.

  The low, concrete building looms at us from the other side of the valley, and I can feel my heart pounding harder with every step I take towards it. I’m expecting some kind of security, but there’s nothing, and it’s too late to turn around by the time the possibility of a trap dawns on me.

  Silas quietly slips his hand into mine and gives it a squeeze. However hard this is for me, it must be ten times harder for him. Pretending to have met the same fate as his parents is a tall order, and the fact that he never even questioned doing i
t for me is heartrendingly romantic. I run my thumb over his palm in a silent display of reassurance just as we approach the front entrance.

  And then, finally, a sound issues from the facility. The front gate slides open automatically, a low alarm announcing our presence, and it takes everything in my power not to shift and make a break for it. For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of birdsong on the still air, but then I can make out the sound of footsteps echoing on the concrete walls. Pulling my hand free of Silas’, I stand with my arms limp at my sides, looking as robotic as I possibly can as the newcomer emerges to greet us.

  Except it’s not a newcomer, I realize with a sudden intake of breath. It’s so much worse. The petite woman who comes into view is none other than President Russo herself, head of the Boston Academy and confirmed crony of Hawthorne. All I can do is hope my theory about him is correct, that he didn’t empower her as well. One hybrid is hard enough to deal with.

  Russo stands still long enough to make me feel uneasy, her hand shielding her eyes as she stares at us in the glare of the sun. Realizing there’s nothing to do now but go for it, I take a rattling breath and speak up. “We’re here to submit to your disposal,” I say, trying to keep all emotion out of my voice. What was it that Silas’ father said? “We had our eyes opened.”

  For a dragging, horrifying second, I’m sure she’s seen right through our lie, but then a smile begins to spread across Russo’s face. “Is that so?” she purrs. “Is that really so?”

  Hunter nods like an automaton. “We are at your service. Long live the Academy.”

  Not a bad touch, all things considered. It’s so hammy that it would probably be absurd in any other situation, but none of us are laughing. Still looking like the cat that ate the canary, Russo leisurely closes the distance between us, crossing her arms over her chest as she sizes the five of us up. “When did it happen?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Damn it. Think, think, think. Casting my mind back to Edith, I swallow and reply, “Back in Oxford. After the attack on the rebel hideout.” It’s a shot in the dark considering we have no idea where the culprit is, and my heart damn near stops in my chest as I wait for her response.

  Russo looks me up and down, taking my chin in her bony fingers and turning my head from side to side. Then she moves down the line, doing the same to each of the guys with what I can only hope is an approving look on her face. “Looks like we hit the jackpot,” she says, her smile turning into a full-fledged grin. “Hawthorne will be pleased.” She turns around, beckoning us to follow her with a lazy swipe of the arm. “Come along, then. We have a lot to catch you up on.”

  Exchanging a relieved look with the others, I follow her in; the guys forming a semicircle around me. Through the entrance we walk, the gate shutting behind us, and suddenly I’m once again trapped between the cold, concrete walls where I almost died once already. A chill runs down my spine, my arms covered in goosebumps, and I catch Landon giving me a longing look out of the corner of my eye, like it’s all he can do not to fold me into his strong arms.

  Steeling ourselves, we continue on.

  Memories flash through my head, unbidden. Being strapped down to a table and pumped with chemicals, both magical and not. The fear of what will happen to me, the question of whether I’ll ever see the guys again, the excruciating pain of being severed from my magic. It all comes flooding back, nearly strong enough to make me keel over from the trauma, and only the presence of the guys beside me can make me keep moving forward. Down the long corridor we go, the fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow over us as our footsteps echo on the stone walls. We round a corner, and suddenly there it is: the torture chamber where I was put last time, complete with the exam table and the rebuilt shelves full of alchemical ingredients. I stop dead in my tracks, unable to move forward as my eyes go wide and threaten to fill with tears. The others keep moving, and I see Hunter’s blue eyes flicker nervously back in my direction as he passes me. They can’t stop, and I shouldn’t be stopped either, but I’m frozen in sheer terror.

  Russo continues to disappear down the hallway, but I can’t pry my eyes away from the laboratory. It’s only when Shade, at the back of the line, passes and brushes his hand comfortingly over the small of my back that I’m able to move again, thankful that Russo didn’t turn around. We follow her deeper into the bowels of the facility, and as we go, we pass room after barren room. Some of them are empty, but many aren’t, and I see with dismay that the occupied ones are packed with shifters. They watch us go with dead eyes, and it’s clear that they have no agency here. Whatever was done to Silas’ parents was also done to them. And we’re helpless to do anything but pretend not to notice.

  It’s only when we descend to a lower level that the space opens up, becoming a sort of bunker. The basement is well-furnished, complete with plush carpets and luxury furniture, and if it weren’t for the lack of windows, I might mistake it for an actual apartment. Russo approaches a closed door and raps twice with the backs of her knuckles. There’s a long moment of silence before it swings open, and I have to choke back my fear once more.

  Hawthorne is standing in the doorway, close enough to touch, but this isn’t the same human I remember from last time. There’s something different about him, more ominous, and I see that his once-graying hair is now all black, a youthful luster to his skin that wasn’t there before. His eyes seem to gleam—whether from deviousness or raw power, I can’t be sure—and whatever humanity he once had is nowhere to be found. I feel Silas stiffen almost imperceptibly next to me, as do the others; the enemy is standing right in front of us. Even I have to beat back the instinct to shift and attack him. There’s no guarantee that killing him will help us free the brainwashed shifters. He could easily have a contingency plan, and knowing him, he probably does.

  No. Better to stay the course.

  “What have we here?” he asks, looking us over with a maniacal grin.

  “They say they’ve had their eyes opened,” Russo replies simply, looking smug. “I thought it was fitting that they be brought to you. Considering the trouble they’ve caused, you should be the one to decide what happens to them.”

  “How interesting,” Hawthorne croons, his expression unreadable. “Well, come in, why don’t you? We won’t get anywhere standing out here.” He stands aside to allow us to file into what looks like his personal living space, and the ostentatiousness of it all is enough to make me sick.

  When we’re all inside, Hawthorne turns to me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and leans down to look me directly in the eyes. I feel like he can see straight into me with his piercing gaze, and I will myself not to blink or look away. “Millie Brix,” he says. “On the right side of history, at long last.”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply stiffly.

  “Where did you say you came around?” he asks, tilting his head to one side.

  “Oxford, sir,” I answer. “After the attack.”

  “Indeed.” He lets me go, turning away from me to face the roaring fire in the hearth. “I have to admit, I would have expected more from you, Ms. Brix. You’ve become something of a figurehead for these shifters lately, haven’t you?”

  I clear my throat. “A figurehead, sir?”

  “Of course,” he croons. “The hybrid prodigy. The rebel leader. The girl who will liberate the shifter community. Considering all you’ve done, I find it surprising that you were blindsided so easily.”

  “It happens, sir,” Silas says in a robotic voice.

  “And you, Mr. Aconyte,” Hawthorne says, turning back around to stare down the dragon shifter. “All this time spent fighting, only to end up like your dear parents. A little disappointing, no doubt, but I suppose it’s not unheard of. Coincidences, and all that.” He takes a breath, squaring his shoulders. “All five of you, though? Interesting. Very interesting.”

  It’s only as his eyes settle on me again that the first alarm bells begin ringing in my mind. He’s looking at me like a predator, like I’m the food
that he’s playing with. This was all too easy, I realize, but it’s too late.

  “The only problem,” Hawthorne says indulgently, pacing back over to us, “is that my asset was not in Oxford on the day of the attack. In fact, he never leaves his chambers. We bring our agents to him. Which you would know… if you had really seen the light.” My heart slams in my chest, the dawning horror of our situation paralyzing me where I stand. “So, Ms. Brix,” Hawthorne says, his expression conniving, “what are we going to do about this?”

  Chapter 96

  For a moment, all I can do is stand there, stunned, panicking, and wondering if I should stay the course or just throw in the towel. Deciding rapidly on the former, I manage to stammer out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hawthorne. Sir.” Even as the words come out, I can tell it’s no use; Russo is closing the door to Hawthorne’s quarters as we speak, just as I notice him rummaging in his pocket for a moment. Seconds later, he pulls out a small artifact, no bigger than a bottle cap. I can’t tell what it is at first, but a closer look reveals it as a simple rune, much like the one used on us in Boston. Enchantment.

  Closing his eyes, Hawthorne holds his hand out, and when he speaks, I realize it’s not directed at me, or anyone in the room. “If you please,” he says in a voice that is frighteningly calm. “I’m afraid I have to discipline some problem children.” There’s a pause, and he cocks his head to one side, as if listening to someone only he can hear. Just like that, the rune in his hand begins to glow with power, the light it’s producing quickly becoming blinding.