STRANGE BREW
THE CRUCIBLE SERIES BOOK 3
• • •
by
ANGELA COLSIN
• • •
Copyright © 2014 by Angela Colsin. All rights reserved by the author.
Published by Angela Colsin www.acolsin.wordpress.com
Cover image designed by Angela Colsin. Photo Credit: The Killion Group, Inc.
Smashwords Edition
This story is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination, or merely used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locations, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is not for reproduction by any party outside of the copyright holder. Transmission of this publication by any means other than the intended e-book distribution is prohibited without prior written permission from the author.
For any questions, concerns, and/or comments, please send an email to the author at [email protected] or visit her blog at www.acolsin.wordpress.com.
• • •
ALSO BY ANGELA COLSIN
Blue Moon
Light of Dawn
TO KATHY
We've been through thick and thin over the years, and you've never stopped supporting me. So here's to the good times! May there be many more years of crazy to come!
Table of Contents
Preface
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Author's Note
Preface
Werewolf: Also called ferines, werewolves are a shifter race with a high tolerance to pain, quick reflexes, and a reputation for brutal behavior. Endowed with a beastly spirit that allows them to shift into a ferine state, most believe these immortals turn into animals. However, much of their anatomy retains a hominid shape with only slight alterations to their physical appearance, such as size and glowing eyes.
Verbal communication is also hindered when ferine, though werewolves can send and receive telepathic messages to those related to their beast.
Over the centuries, ferines have been forced into isolation from the world at large due to a dwindling population. Some think this loss in numbers is attributed to constant fighting with vampires, their natural enemies. But in truth, it's been perpetuated by a lack of success in finding the only thing that can eternally sustain them—their mates.
Without a mate, a werewolf eventually loses control of their beast, becoming a bloodthirsty killer in a process referred to as turning Savage. Savage werewolves are a danger to all in their path, and have to be executed immediately.
The Order governing their affairs is Beastguard.
Witches & Warlocks: These magic casters come in two types; the practitioner, who studies magic, and those born with an inherent connection to the natural energies of the world around them. Both practice what's commonly referred to as their Craft, but a practitioner takes time to hone their skills where a born witch's talent is easier to access and shape.
The Craft can be practiced by any race, but is most commonly seen among humans, fae, and elves. Because a witch's magic is typically powered by nature, even mortals oblivious to the truth of the supernatural world lying beyond the Veil can perform magical acts, though much less potently than those with a better understanding of the paranormal.
Born witches and warlocks are monitored by The Esbat, an Order operating under The Crucible.
Prologue
Northwest Territories, Canada
-Adam!-
The front doors of the timber frame home burst open, slamming against the outer wall loudly enough to be heard above the wailing winds. Troy Ashland tore through them and into the gusting snowfall, telepathically calling his older brother's name in the hopes that Adam was close enough to hear it—and would then come to his senses.
It was a farfetched possibility, but Troy couldn't give up on the notion that his brother may have managed to cling to some sliver of humanity, enough so to fight his turning. Still, there was never much hope for a werewolf approaching his second century of life with no mate to show for it.
As of the previous month, Adam was exactly a hundred and ninety-seven years old, and in all that time, he'd never found or bonded with his woman. The lack had driven him further and further into madness, a process werewolves referred to as turning Savage.
Any who faced such a descent had only two options; find their mate, or die.
A Savage werewolf was too dangerous to be left alive, slaughtering at will with their former humanity lost to the beast within them. It was a slow process, one where control could be salvaged for a time, but eventually, the clan took notice and confined any who proved to be too violent to roam free—particularly on the night of the full moon when the change was unavoidable in older, unmated werewolves.
Such had been the case with Adam for more than a decade now. His control had waned over the years, his patience short, and where he'd once been an expert strategist, he now made decisions impulsively.
Troy had been helping in the search for his mate, traveling from place to place in the hopes of finding her and stopping his brother's turning. But despite joining their great grandparents in the Northern Territories and consulting an oracle who regularly assisted the clan, their hunt remained fruitless.
Now, during the new moon, Adam had attacked a cousin without provocation, and then disappeared into the stormy night. This prompted their great-grandfather, Luther Ashland, to gather a group to hunt him down—and Troy knew exactly what they intended for his brother. Unless I find him first.
Snow pelted his face as he moved into the yard, looking over the icy fields of the Canadian countryside stretching out around the remote community. Adam could've gone anywhere, but he was the only immediate family Troy had left, and he refused to let his brother slip away. There's still time. He's not beyond help, he just needs confinement.
Determined, he inhaled through his nose, catching a scent that was so faint he could barely perceive it. The wind was against him, meaning he'd have a better chance following Adam's tracks in the snow, and there was a marred path nearby. Troy had to move quickly before they were completely covered by the gales, and took off while turning ferine.
His normally brown eyes began glowing pale yellow as his muscles expanded, stretching his clothing to the point of ripping the fabric. Additionally, he grew taller, his brow thickening, streamlining with his nose. A set of four fangs sharpened in his mouth, and his fingernails grew several inches in length, forming claws.
When the transformation was done, he used the strength and speed it provided to move through the storm more swiftly, following Adam's tracks—which proved to be erratic. It was as if his brother hadn't been able to decide where he wanted to go, making the task of tracking him much more difficult.
Still, Troy wondered if this indecision was due to the fact that his brother
was actually fighting his murderous instincts. Maybe he'd gotten control and was heading back to the community.
Or maybe he was killing some unfortunate human he'd come across at random.
Troy increased his pace.
Moving for nearly two miles through trees and over hills, he started off going north, but then turned back south, inevitably leading Troy to a clearing not far from a road winding by the edge of a steep incline on the opposing side. A red truck was parked nearby with the emergency flashers blinking, and two human men stood outside it, one inspecting a flat tire, the other gathering tools to fix the problem.
Adam's tracks were heading in their direction, and Troy stayed out of sight, sticking to the trees while his yellow gaze swept the area. If his brother was stalking these humans, he'd be deathly silent about it, making it necessary to focus, especially with the wind howling.
But a moment passed, and nothing happened. If Adam had fully turned, he would've been too bloodthirsty to pass up a kill, meaning he'd probably moved on—
A sudden blur streaked across Troy's vision in the distance, having emerged from the brush near the incline about fifteen feet from the side of the road. It was quick, and heading directly toward the oblivious humans. Shit.
Troy wasted no time, moving as swiftly as possible. -Adam, stop!-
His brother didn't listen to the telepathic message, and instead, launched himself at the unsuspecting men just as Troy reached the road and jumped with all the strength he possessed. Sailing through the air, he managed to intercept Adam, tackling the ferine away and sending their bodies sprawling over the edge of the slope on the opposing side of the road.
Both hit the incline only to go tumbling downward, and the descent wasn't exactly pleasant. Their bodies rolled across jagged rocks and sharp branches, sending snow flying in their wake. Troy grunted when something sharp stabbed into his right side just before coming to a rough stop in a bed of the cold, white frost blanketing the ground. Only a second passed when another thud sounded a few feet away, signaling Adam's landing.
Troy ignored whatever had punctured his side, his high threshold for pain allowing him to disregard the injury in favor of immediately pushing himself up. Turning, he quickly located his brother and climbed over him, grabbing the ferine's throat in a tight clutch. The only way to subdue the savage werewolf without killing him was to knock him unconscious, and Troy lifted his arm to send a fist sailing into Adam's temple as hard as possible.
But a moment passed, and he stayed his hand. Adam was already out cold with a bleeding gash in his temple, having hit his head during their fall. But he also appeared to be mostly intact besides that injury, which meant he'd be up again soon—and likely furious over Troy's interference.
So he acted fast, freeing Adam's belt from his pants to bind his wrists together. During the process, Troy realized he had a piece of wood sticking out of his torso, but it could wait—Adam couldn't. Not only was Troy in danger of getting his ass handed to him, the humans he'd saved would be at risk until his brother was hauled back home.
He only wondered how far behind him Luther or any of their clansmen might've been—and whether or not he'd allow Adam to be confined rather than insisting on execution.
Grabbing his brother's left wrist to incapacitate him, Troy was caught by surprise when Adam's right fist suddenly shot out. The blow landed on his jaw with a force strong enough to knock him a few feet backwards, the air fleeing his lungs upon hitting the ground.
Rattled, Troy could barely suck in another breath before Adam was on top of him in the snow, wrapping two large fists tightly around his throat. Being so much stronger than his younger brother, there was no way to break the grip, leaving Troy unable to do anything except attempt to get through to him.
-Adam, it's me! Don't do this!-
Yet, as much as he wanted to believe his brother could seize control, fear stabbed into his heart like a spike of ice when he saw Adam's face. The only physical sign of a werewolf turning Savage was in the eyes. At first, they began glowing orange instead of yellow in their ferine state, a color that intensified in hue over the years until their humanity was gone and the beast was all that remained.
From then on? Deep, bloody red—and Adam's were glowing that exact color now. Nothing in them could be considered even remotely lucid as they blazed with deadly intent.
It was all wild, savage cruelty. No logic, no recognition.
Only chaos.
A harsh reality had taken physical shape and was now staring Troy in the face, forcing him to acknowledge it with more pain than the shard of wood in his gut could ever produce. He wanted to ignore it, erase it, change it, but the murderous intent in those blood red irises offered no means to do so, and he knew the truth.
Adam's life was over. The only question that remained was to wonder if his was about to end as well.
-Brother…it's Troy….-
With one hand still cutting off his air supply, Adam lifted the other, flaring his sharp claws to rend Troy's flesh.
-Listen to me!-
Those claws came down swiftly, but Troy refused to look away, and he didn't fight back. Whatever damage done now would heal, and fighting would only strengthen Adam's craving to make blood spill.
Yet then, a moment of recognition came. Red briefly turned orange, and his claws stopped at Troy's cheek, their tips drawing blood from his skin.
On a garbled voice, he growled, “Troy … ”
Suddenly, Adam shoved himself away, freeing Troy's throat. Slowly, he sat up, trying to catch his breath while keeping his eyes locked on his brother. The werewolf was now crouched nearby, covering his face in a fashion that suggested he couldn't believe what he was just about to do, and his thoughts rang clearly.
-Troy … this has to stop.-
-It will, Adam. I swear it. Come on, we'll go back to the— -
“NO!” came his forceful bellow, and his red eyed glare possessed a shocking amount of clarity considering the current nature of his beast. Adam was fighting it, but losing, and his next message was a chilling confirmation of his defeat.
-Kill me, brother. Now, before I lose it again!-
-I won't!- Troy retorted, shaking his head with a pointed snarl of defiance. He couldn't accept that his brother was beyond repair, not when having a mate would center him. -We can still find her!-
Immediately, Adam snarled, the sound as lethal as any he'd made at their enemies, and Troy knew what was coming.
-It's too late … so do it! Before I kill you!-
The threat was far from empty, but regardless, Troy simply couldn't kill his own brother, one who'd been more like a father after theirs was murdered so long ago. He wouldn't—
Adam suddenly lunged, fangs bared with that same murderous intent returning to his eyes. Troy moved swiftly, turning at the last second before sharp teeth could tear at his throat. Still, Adam's claws drew across his chest, sending fresh blood down into the snow.
Having missed, Adam roared in anger, turning to try again, and Troy could tell he'd truly lost control.
A stone of despair settled in his heart. Can't save him …
Panting, he backed away, the knee-deep snow billowing around his legs as Adam swiftly drew in, tackling his younger brother with the force of a speeding vehicle before unleashing his rage. Troy would've fought back, but he still couldn't accept this, couldn't find it in himself to end his brother's life, not even when Adam's sharp claws tore through his chest and down his abdomen.
He roared in pain, but it was far from over. Adam's fury led him to snap his brother's arm at the elbow, then lacerate his face, slicing his left eye open. As if that wasn't enough, he even tore the wood from Troy's torso and plunged it down into his chest.
But nothing he did could convince Troy to fight back. He'd tried his best to help Adam and failed, making the beating seem somehow satisfying, as if he deserved it for letting him turn Savage.
Just when Adam was about to deliver a blow to Troy's head with e
nough force to crack his skull, he was brought to a stop—permanently.
In the blink of an eye, the silver blade of a sword came around at an arch, connecting with Adam's throat. The Savage werewolf was so busy focusing on Troy that he hadn't noticed their great-grandfather moving in, and Luther's blade was sharp enough to cut through his neck in a single strike.
One moment, Adam was murdering his brother, and the next, his body fell limp with his head morbidly rolling through the snow several feet away.
Troy struggled, pushing himself up without thinking, and even stood before he fully realized what had happened. Behind him, Luther turned his blade to sheathe on his back while his remaining grandson attempted to wrap his mind around this new development.
Adam's dead. The thought repeated as agony welled within him, a pain that had nothing to do with his numerous injuries.
“Troy,” Luther started, “you've done all you could. He wouldn't have lasted the month without endangering more people.”
Though his voice had about as much warmth as the snow getting caught in his dark, wavy hair, Troy knew better than to think Luther was indifferent about killing his own flesh and blood. Still, logic and reason were miles away just then, and he wanted to rail at the elder werewolf, blame him, fight him, anything to alleviate the pain of loss that suddenly crashed down harder than any physical blow he'd ever received.
But it was useless. Adam's dead. Troy bared his fangs, his fists balling. All that effort for nothing. With an enraged turmoil building inside him, he threw back his head, roaring at the sky.
Of his parents and two siblings, Troy was the only one left, a fact that made this most recent loss seem even more raw, grief weighing him down until he fell to his knees. But maybe it didn't really matter in the long run.
Maybe, one day soon, they'd all be reunited when he himself turned Savage and followed the same path.
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