Luna Ascending (The Wolves of Fenrir Watch Book 1)

by Zana Wilder

  Liz gives me an odd half smile, “It's not easy keeping things from your best friend, is it? I should know Freya”

  I feel my heart lift. Maybe Liz is a witch too, what else could she mean? I turn briefly to grab the cafetière and promptly drop it screaming when I turn back. Something is wrong in the air around Liz. Something is wrong with Liz.

  I pull my feet up, away from her, as her body elongates unnaturally. Her outline looses its definition. It happens so fast I can barely register the alarm coursing through my veins before Liz has gone.

  In her place is the largest and most ferocious looking cat I have ever seen. My scream dies away and little huffs of air escape my mouth as I back away across the room. Just as quickly, Liz is back, grinning, and hiding her nakedness under the crisp cotton throw.

  “YOU'RE A CAT!” I gasp.

  Liz glares “A fucking cougar thank you very much Miss Witch!”

  “Yeah, well.. same... big cat” even although I'm still in shock I enjoy the look of sheer annoyance flashing across her face.

  Several cups of coffee later, and Liz has done her bast to educate me in the 'other-world' we both apparently inhabit. Somehow, for all the talk of the Coven and witches, Marc and his whole family failed to mention that there are other beings out there who aren't entirely human.

  Liz's boyfriend Tavey, Aaron and all his family are wolf-shifters according to Liz. Wolf-shifter - it has a ring to it I like. But there are lots of other animal-shifters out there, along with the witches. Who the hell would have thought that any of this was real?!

  I must still be in shock because somehow it feels as if part of me has always known there was more out there. Why would Marc keep this from me? Does he really think I'm so fragile that I couldn't handle knowing? Is he that worried I'll loose control of my powers again?! Why else would he keep it from me?

  I can see Liz desperately trying to hide how shocked she is that I've not explored much of my magic since I discovered it. She gives herself away completely however when she tuts on hearing Marc's suggestion I “stick to books on the history of witchcraft and 'baby spells' for everyone's safety”. She's insistent I should explore my potential and her enthusiasm rubs off – I feel excited at the idea.

  “Here, look up these old crones! They'll help you out, as long as you don't go calling them old” Liz grabs a bit of paper and scribbles down a few names and addresses, glancing at her watch as she does “Shit! I'm late for a client meeting – blaming you! We've not done this in too long – I lost track of time”

  Liz scrabbles her things together, borrows my one and only suit as a replacement for her shredded clothes, and shoots towards the door. Just as she turns to leave, I think she's spotted my engagement ring and try to hide my hand in panic. I really don't need that chat right now – but she just peers around again and mentions I ought to put my own stamp on the sparse male looking apartment before merrily trotting out past a disapproving looking concierge.

  I glance around the flat realising I've only just enough time to clear up before Marc gets back. I wash out the mugs by hand and put them away, and quickly mop up the spilled coffee we'd both merrily ignored earlier.

  Straightening out the throw Liz had covered herself in I try to get things sorted in my head. I'm pretty sure Marc doesn't approve of Liz, and my instincts tell me he'd be unhappy to know she'd visited.

  He's forever telling me to 'leave my old life in the past' – it's understandable I guess, but I find myself sighing internally every time. He wants a new life with me, and I really don't want to disappoint him. The idea of facing his disapproval is highly unnerving. I rub my birthmark in flustered habit as Marc's key rattles in the door, pleased not to have been caught out.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Aaron's POV

  I watch my hands silently clench and unclench as my world bends sideways. I assumed as alpha-heir I knew our pack secrets, fuck me was I wrong.

  Listening to my father speak, my hackles rise of their own accord. He was berating me for lying by omission … but this, this is a web of lies any arachnid would be fucking proud of. The bloody kappa Rennard knows more about MY pack than I do – and he's enjoying seeing my reaction. I won't give him the satisfaction of my wrath.

  My father brusquely asks if I remember when, as pups growing up, he'd tried to insist that Tavey was not suitable beta material.

  It would be impossible not to remember. It was the worst summer of my teenage years– an entire season of argument. He was far more fierce back then. However, I've always been more stubborn, and eventually he'd given up. I'd still caught him out at odd moments watching Tavey hawk-eyed, with a look of consternation playing over his face. It always puzzled me – Tavey is one hundred percent beta material.

  My wolf is restless, pacing around my head, wondering how this is relevant, and I agree with him. What the hell can that have to with anything now?

  “Tavey is...different” Connell pauses, glancing at his beta before quickly adding “no less one of us, no less deserving, but” he concedes “it took me some time to come to that conclusion”.

  I look between the two greying men perturbed, clenching my jaw at the insult to my friend. We may not be seeing eye to eye right now, but Tavey is still my beta. My father continues quickly, his words flowing around each other in my head.

  “Tavey is part shifter, part witch. Part morigan witch to be precise. Do you remember your schooling Aaron?” He asks sharply “What is a morigan?”

  Feeling like a child, and just as bewildered, I bluster “Of course I know… a ...shape shifting witch...?”

  From his grimly pleased expression I know I'm correct. So that's it. My beta, my best friend, is a witch hybrid?! And my own father knew all this time? Hypocritical arse – shouting me down for 'lying by omission'. What utter bullshit.

  My brain skips to another track entirely. Witches, in the eyes of the council, can't be seen as all bad if they've kept him here, and hidden him.

  Perhaps I've misinterpreted the animosity all this time, perhaps it's aimed at the Coven and how it's run rather than witches themselves. My wolf wags his tail as a stray thought springs to mind, perhaps one might even be accepted as a mate.

  I look sharply at Angus, my father's beta and Tavey's dad. Angus glares stonily at the floor before starting his story. Seeming very uncomfortable, he condenses his history into a few monotone sentences.

  “I found my fated-mate Aaron”, he sighs “she was in wolf form when I met her. Although I knew instantly she wasn't wolf-shifter, it didn't matter – she was mine. She was a morigan witch who loved to take the form of a wolf. ”

  I snort at the idea of fated-mates but my father's glare silences me.

  “She was everything I could want” Angus says quietly “but although she could become a wolf she wasn't one, and back then... our society was very different, far less tolerant.”

  “I made him choose” my father blurts out, his guilt still haunting him years later “pack or fated-mate. Our pack wouldn't have stayed together if its beta took a witch as a mate. So Angus chose, and... I don't blame him. I shouldn't have forced that choice.”

  I recall a vague rumour that, years ago, the beta had gone rogue for a while. I'd never considered asking why. I knew that Tavey's mum had died. Why the hell had I never asked more about her? I'm supposed to be Tavey's friend, but I was never interested enough to find out.

  Angus ploughs on, with great sadness in his voice, to explain his love for Tavey's mum had lasted a year, and in that time she became pregnant with twins. Like any expectant father he'd been terrified and delighted all at once. In retrospect, he hadn't been scared of the right things. He didn't know enough to know that 'hybrids' were both a threat and a highly sought after prize.

  His son, Tavey, was born after a very prolonged labour, and he was worried neither his wife nor the second twin would make it. With his wife in agony the next room, he tried again and again to get the midwife on the phone, while cradling his new son, and
heating more water. He finally heard the sound of a baby cry through the wall and his wife shouted 'it's a girl!'

  Angus stops, unable to finish his story.

  My dad grips his beta's arm and takes over for him.

  “Angus never met his daughter. The whole family was attacked by the Coven moments after the girl was born. We're not sure if they intended a kidnapping and it went wrong, or if their intent was to kill the whole family. As it was, there was a massive blast and Angus, holding the boy, was blown clear of the house. The other two, died.”

  Angus blanches “I was so crazed with grief, I was convinced they were still alive,” he says “convinced I could still feel them, that I'd know if they were dead. I ran back to the pack. I needed help to find my wife and my daughter then... within a few days, I... I guess the shock wore off, and I couldn't feel them any more. They were gone.”

  My father takes over again, giving Angus time to regain some composure. He explains that the pack's council did some digging and realised that hybrid babies were a 'commodity' – he spits the word – to some and a threat to others. Although at the time a witch-shifter mating was depraved in the eyes of the Coven, the council suspected that the Coven attacked the couple because of their offspring rather than the match itself.

  The council swore then to protect Angus and the surviving baby. To do so, they agreed to keep his nature hidden. Tavey himself was only told when his witching powers started to come in as a teenager, and the council needed to ensure he was trained to control his 'extra' skill-set.

  My wolf's hyper, but I have to think clearly here. Just because wolf-witch matings are a 'thing' they have no bloody bearing on my situation. Freya betrayed me, and that should be the end to it. My frustration builds as I struggle to get a handle on my own emotions. I'm a fucking alpha, I should have more control than this.

  After the revelations I have to get out of the pack house for a bit – I won't let Rennard see how conflicted I am about all this.

  At least Tavey and I can build some bridges, now I understand his position. It's slow, and difficult. The council might have sworn him to secrecy, but he's my beta for goddess' sake - he should have bloody told me. My gut says our bond has been rattled, but it's not broken. Every day that we spend sparring and chatting, I can feel it mending, refashioning, growing.

  As part of reforming our bond Tavey gives me a 101 of his witch-craft - his skills are astounding, and terrifying. He's blatantly worried I'll be disgusted by him, that I'll see him as different, no longer my friend and pack.

  It touches me in a weird way - the bond I feel with him is pretty fucking strong. He's the same arsehole I grew up with, more of an arsehole for keeping such a huge thing from me. His place with me hasn't changed, and I make sure he knows it. It obviously means a lot to him to be able to finally share all of himself with his alpha. It means a lot to me too, but I'm still fucking pissed he didn't do it earlier.

  When Tavey mentions casually that he's heard some interesting news about Freya he has my full attention immediately. My heart beats wildly, my pupils dilate and my wolf surfaces.

  I look up to see Tavey watching me closely – it's a fucking set up to see my reaction. I concentrate on getting my breathing under control while Tavey talks to me like I'm an errant toddler.

  “Aaron, you have to listen to me... really listen. To the whole story”

  “Spit it out Tavey, and watch your fucking tone I'm not a child or a cretin”

  “Sometimes I bloody wonder Aaron” he snipes before backing down at my warning growl, “ Okay, okay... Look. It's just that I think, , our view on Freya was a bit unfair. I was sceptical when Liz first told me but now...”

  “Spell. It. Out”

  “It's just, well... I don't know how relevant it is, but Freya didn't know she was a witch until recently. She didn't know what she was. She had a whole 'coming out' thing with Liz. Very touching” he says drolly “I categorically didn't believe it until we spent some time with her – she can't cast properly, not even simple spells. She's got raw power, but little control.”

  My mouth's bone dry, my wolf is howling and running circles in my head. If Freya hadn't known what she was, if she couldn't cast simple spells... then she couldn't have put a complex love-binding spell on me. It could have been cast on us both by the Coven, but my gut's screaming that there was no spell, that these feelings were real all along.

  I feel light, lighter than I have in months, and all my alpha-blooded feelings for Freya flood back. I want to find her right now, hold her to me, and I want to claim her, hard.

  Glancing at Tavey I catch his grave expression. I'm not going to like whatever else he has to say.

  “Aaron, just hold the fuck up there, and hear me out. Whatever Freya knew or didn't, I'm not sure it matters now...she's engaged, to Marciel”

  Tavey tries to gauge my reaction and when I just stare at him blankly he ploughs on.

  “She didn't tell Liz that she was engaged initially, so fuck knows what that means about their relationship...Not wanting to tell her best friend - that's pretty screwed up. But, she IS engaged.”

  Tavey grabs my arm and gives me a shake, obviously concerned I was just hearing what I wanted.

  “She may not have cast a spell on you Aaron, but she's marrying Marciel de Vaudou. There is no way of knowing how deeply she is involved in the Coven now that she knows what she is. Whatever her reasons for it – she is marrying Marciel”

  After a final terrier-like shake he lets my arm drop.

  My wolf howls and demands we shift, animal form is easier than thoughts right now. My clothes shred as I change, giving over to my wolf and taking off for the woods.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Freya'S POV

  I've been trying to curl up into a comfy position on this upright, ridiculously expensive sofa for over half an hour and it's not working. Sometimes I would give anything to be back in my own little flat, surrounded by plants, stomping around in an oversized knit and granny pants, without worrying about what Marc might think if he saw me.

  I guess though, without all this change I wouldn't have been so immersed in all things Coven. I might have been a danger to people. Having everything taken care of by Marc, or his staff, ought to have given me plenty of time to try out my magic... but Marc's been pretty strict about wanting me to read the dusty tomes of dry history first.

  It wasn't until I outed myself to Liz I started to feel excited about the possibilities of my power. I'm itching to start exploring myself.

  When Marc's not around it's much easier to experiment. Not knowing my powers, or really being in control of them much yet, is pretty damn embarrassing. And he disapproves of my dabbling. It's daft, I'm not some fragile little flower, and I'll never learn to control myself if I don't bloody start practising!

  I've been stealing private moments to concentrate on expanding my skills, although recently he's been away more often so it's been easier. It's a bit of a relief that he's around less – his need for kinky sex is taking me far more out my comfort zone than I care to admit.

  Catching up with Liz has been tricky -she's pretty busy between work and her boyfriend, and Marc doesn't really approve of her. He said something weird about cougars, once I told him I knew what she was. He said they were all manipulative. I guess I don't know much about the shifter world, and he might be right in general, but that's not my Liz. No way. Marc won't be budged from his opinion, but it seems racist to me. Or speciest, if that's a thing?

  He's away for the whole weekend for business, so I've finally got a chance to do something I've been meaning to for weeks. I fish out a scrap of paper from one of the expensive handbags he bought me. I've so many new things it's frankly embarrassing.

  Scrutinising the list of people Liz suggested I go speak to, I pick one at random. I need to start finding out more about myself, and the Coven haven't been much help. Too much coddling. I snort in consternation.

  My migraines are back, and I assume it's because I d
on't have a handle on my powers. This weekend I'm going to find some of these 'old crones' Liz directed me to, and start getting some proper answers.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Freya's POV

  Stalking around the market stalls, dodging loudly squawking American tourists and ducking around people making the peace sign into cameras, I feel like I must be in the wrong place. I'm just about to turn around when the shop entrance catches my eye

  Charlotte's Charms

  your one stop shop for the occult.

  Nothing like hiding in plain sight I guess! I peer in the window at a selection of candles, plastic skulls and incense sticks. It looks a bit tacky.

  Before I can go in, two teenagers elbow their way out the shop dressed head to toe in black. One has an actual I-shit-you-not cape, and the other a massive studded dog collar, chipped black nail polish and face of ghostly white make up.

  I try to gently flex my witching muscles in their direction, shocked after the sophistication of the De Vaudou's that other witches might really dress like this. But no, I can sense they're entirely, eccentrically, human.

  I feel pleased with myself, but it quickly fades as the kids shout out in pain and drop their bags to clutch their heads. I step briskly into the shop, pretending to myself it had nothing to do with my meddling.

  The door chimes as I step through the sandalwood hazed interior. There are fairy lights everywhere, the incense is clawing, and the shop seems deserted. I wander around aimlessly poking at trinkets, unsure what I should do now I've finally made it here.

  A loud pop behind me makes me jump. Standing at my shoulder is a girl, maybe late teens, chewing fluorescent pink bubble gum with relish.

  “Whatcha after?” she gets out between chews.

  “Uh, I'm looking for Lottie?” I eye her uncertainly.

  “Uh huh” the girl said arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow “I'm Charlotte, whatcha want?”