Strange Brew

by Angela Colsin

  Fifteen Years Later

  All morning long, the Ashland Clan had been abuzz about some new venture Luther was undertaking. No one seemed to know exactly what was going on, but Troy had the sense it involved him because the clan's Matriarch, Trisha Ashland—his great-grandmother—had summoned him to talk.

  He was heading to her room, idly wondering if this concerned his age and his turning. Though he wasn't as close to his two hundredth birthday as Adam was fifteen years prior, Troy's eyes had been orange for a decade now—which was definitely long enough to start taking some real precautions.

  He still remembered the night Adam died vividly, still remembered his violent outbursts, but unlike then, he better understood now what his brother had been dealing with. A werewolf's beast was a blessing from two fallen gods meant to offer life, and it did so for a few centuries at least. Afterward, it slowly became a curse, and Troy could feel his beast clawing inside him, seeking to break free in its dissatisfaction over playing a submissive role.

  At length, he recalled hearing talk of deadened feelings in those turning Savage, relating it to a growing numbness of humanity. But numbness was a blessing Troy only wished he had when most days he lost control of emotions that ran so high they were maddening. Sometimes he couldn't hold onto a single logical thought for more than five minutes without his feelings interfering.

  What's more, those feelings were typically on the feral side of the spectrum, making him more easily irritated and impulsive—just like Adam in those final years. Now I know why he wanted to die.

  Living this way was hellacious, and not simply because his savage tendencies were growing stronger, but also due to the way others looked at him. The clan was wary of his orange eyes, and while Troy had always been a loner accustomed to getting surprised looks from people who hadn't expected to see him around, this type of treatment was much different.

  He could no longer hunt on his own, if he was even let out at all, and had to be watched carefully, especially around others. Such treatment made him feel like an invalid—or worse, a liability to the clan's strength. Some nights, the thought got him so livid that he'd tear his room apart like an animal, slashing his claws through the walls and breaking furniture.

  But he hadn't given up hope, at least, not at first. As soon as his eyes began to show an orange hue, he'd visited an elven oracle named Tanda about finding his mate. She was the same oracle Adam had visited, and was very accurate—she simply wasn't always forthcoming with her findings.

  This proved to be the case with Troy. Instead of telling him anything concrete, she'd only said that it wasn't yet his mate's time—whatever that means—and instructed him not to return unless summoned.

  So he'd settled in with the clan rather than drifting from place to place like usual, supposing Tanda was merely waiting for the right moment to pass on information. But a year passed, then another, until a decade had gone by, and his optimism dwindled, the hope he'd held onto turning into such a dim spark that he'd decided it simply wasn't meant to be.

  It was like standing on the edge of an abyss, but instead of risking a fall, the abyss itself was rising up to swallow him whole.

  Like his brother, Troy was ready for death, had even considered asking to die early to ensure he never hurt anyone. It was simply less painful facing the facts than holding onto that spark of hope—not to mention quelling the anger of being senselessly deprived was next to impossible.

  So it wouldn't be a surprise if his great-grandmother was about to tell him to prepare for permanent confinement. Troy stopped at her door with the thought in mind and lifted his hand to knock. Maybe all this rage will finally be put to rest.

  Only a moment passed when Trisha invited him in, and he stepped through the door to find her standing at the foot of her bed. Though she was his great-grandmother, she looked young enough to be a sister or cousin. Her long hair was pale blonde and braided back at her nape, while her current attire was a black corset over a white top with a pair of jeans.

  But Troy paid the Matriarch little attention in realizing she had a visitor—and not just any visitor.

  Standing across from Trisha was the elven oracle, Tanda.

  Troy suddenly grew tense. The oracle's last instructions to him were not to return unless summoned, making him wonder if he should've dared to think she had news of his mate.

  “Troy,” Trisha began in greeting, and cut right to the chase. “Tanda has some information for you, and we need to discuss a few things.”

  Hearing this, he didn't hesitate to ask, “You've found her?”

  Tanda, who was an exquisite beauty with a long mane of blue-black hair and haunting yellow eyes, answered directly, “I found her when you came to me ten years ago. She simply wasn't of age for matehood, so it wouldn't have helped you to find her.”

  If that was true, then she had to be young, probably born within the past twenty years or so. It actually made sense considering Troy's old habit of traveling from place to place without ever finding her. But the explanation did nothing to quell his beast's impatience, demanding before he could think better of it, “Then where is she?”

  He regretted his tone the moment the words were out of his mouth, but Tanda responded casually, as if no longer affected by savage werewolves and their ferocity. “I've already told your Matriarch everything you need to know. So I'll be taking my leave to allow you to discuss it with her.”

  “Thank you, Tanda,” Trisha started as the elf headed to the door. “You know who to see for your payment.”

  Tanda nodded before leaving the room, and Troy clenched his jaw in the effort of remaining silent and getting his emotions under control. It took a moment, but he finally turned his gaze back to his grandmother, asking more rationally, “When did she get here?”

  “Last night, actually,” Trisha answered. “She told me everything then, I just waited to pass it on because Luther and I needed to discuss the situation and make a few plans. But I know you're more eager to hear about Tanda's findings, so I'll start there.”

  Troy almost snapped at her to spit it out already, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Trisha was not only his great-grandmother, but also the clan's Matriarch, and even if she understood his predicament, she deserved respect.

  “Tanda told me where to go, but she didn't have any details on who or what your mate is. So it may take a while to actually find her, but we have a place now.”

  “Where?”

  “Arkin City, Georgia.”

  For the first time in years, Troy felt that dying spark of hope growing a little stronger, making it hard to focus when his grandmother added, “At Tanda's direction, Luther's purchasing an estate there, and we're sending you with Bryant, Adriana, and the twins to keep watch until you find her.”

  The twins, Alec and Andi, were Troy's cousins. At only fifty years of age, they were too young alone to subdue Troy if he had a violent outburst, but when they teamed up, they'd managed to impress even the more seasoned werewolves.

  On the other hand, his great-uncle, Bryant, was older and much stronger, mated to a sun fae named Adriana who had the natural ability to soothe nearly any ferine's beast. So the four of them would have no problem keeping Troy behaved, proving that Trisha and Luther had put some decent thought into the situation.

  “Is this what the clan's been talking about?” Troy asked. “I keep hearing gossip about Luther being up to something.”

  “This would be it,” Trisha confirmed. “Tanda's information opened a dialogue between us about our current state of affairs, and we've made a decision that goes beyond your need to find a mate.”

  “A decision about what?”

  “For starters, the estate we bought is in need of repairs, and we want you to oversee them. What we're hoping is that you'll find your mate there, settle with her, and lead a new pack of the clan.”

  “Lead?” Troy asked absently, trying to take this in. He understood the need to travel to Georgia if the oracle foresaw his mate there
, but the desire to form a new pack and allow a lone wolf like him to supervise it seemed strange.

  Trisha eyed him curiously. “You disagree?”

  “Not exactly, I'm just surprised you'd wanna start a pack so close to humans.”

  With a nod, she explained, “This wouldn't be a place for older, unmated ferines like yourself, just the taken, and the young. We need the more isolated communities like this one free for those turning savage, and we're starting to run low on space. Three boys were born last week alone, and we've got two more mothers due any time. There's also an issue with keeping werewolves turning Savage so close to children.”

  That made more sense, and Troy didn't interrupt when Trisha continued, “But the bottom line is that we've cut ourselves off for too long, and if we continue on like this, losing our numbers left and right, we'll be at both the mercy of vampires, and under The Crucible's scrutiny.”

  Being their natural enemies, vampires would definitely take advantage of their decreasing population if provided the chance, so Troy could easily understand this threat. But as for The Crucible, he had only one guess, and hoped it wasn't accurate when he inquired, “Why would the Order single us out?”

  Sadly, Trisha's answer confirmed his suspicion. “Possibly for removal from this realm, or even extermination if things declined quickly enough.”

  She didn't need to say more. The Crucible was powerful, and being so invested in mortal interests, they'd definitely keep an eye on werewolves who turned Savage and killed without thought. This was especially true when their kind was so isolated, making them easier for mortals to track if a savage werewolf ever found their way into a human community.

  So it followed that The Crucible wouldn't allow things to continue the way they were currently going, and as if the issue was weighing on her, Trisha sighed. “We're not at such a critical point yet, but the remaining clans are all talking about it, and we have to do something before the Order takes notice, which means we need more numbers. In order to get them, we have to find our mates.”

  “And that means reintegrating with humans,” Troy supplied.

  “It would be a big help.”

  Though humans weren't the only species a werewolf could find a mate in, they seemed to make up the majority. But when werewolves began turning savage more frequently, they'd had no choice but to keep their distance. Such isolation had worked for a time, yet constant entanglements with vampires and turning Savage more frequently left them a dying breed.

  So maybe starting a new pack was the first step to take in regaining their footing.

  Whatever the case, Troy's stake in this was personal—if he didn't go, he'd die.

  As if reading his thoughts, Trisha stepped over and put her hands on his shoulders, saying, “I don't want history repeating itself, Troy. Luther and I have already lost so many, and Adam's death has been especially hard on us. So we both need you to go.”

  Trisha cared a great deal about her grandchildren, but she'd become particularly close to Troy and Adam after their parents were killed in battle over a century ago. Sometimes, she looked forlorn, as if she simply couldn't handle the thought of losing more children, and that bleak expression was definitely present in her blue eyes now.

  Attempting to lighten the mood, Troy suggested, “You really want a lone wolf leading a pack of the clan? One who's turning Savage?”

  The comment made her smile. “One of the reasons I'm sending Bryant is so he can watch you and keep things in order while you find and bond with your mate. But I think you'd do fine, and if you don't want the responsibility, just getting the place set up is enough. Then, with your woman to keep you centered, you could do as you pleased.”

  “Good point,” he returned. “But I couldn't refuse this, even if I wanted. There's nothing else left for me.”

  “No, there's not,” Trisha remarked dolefully. “But that should change soon. If this works, we'll all have plenty again.”

  Troy knew that was something they all hoped for, but couldn't find the optimism he would've shown ten years prior.

  Noticing his expression, Trisha inquired, “What's wrong?”

  “I'm just not sure why I'd deserve to find my mate when Adam didn't,” he admitted.

  With a frown, the Matriarch slowly shook her head. “I don't have the answer to why he died, but I know your brother would've wanted this for you. So maybe you simply owe it to him to keep going.”

  Troy hadn't thought of it that way, asking, “Owe it to him how?”

  “Adam wanted you to live, Troy, otherwise he never would've asked his own brother to strike a killing blow and prevent your death at his hands.”

  Her point was valid. Troy had always known it was hard for Adam to ask him to do such a thing, and if he was there now, he'd likely be saying She's right, so stop dragging your feet and go get her, dumbass.

  He almost found a smile at the thought, turning his attention back to Trisha to admit, “It's not that I'm unwilling to go, it just seems strange having another opportunity after giving up. I came to your door expecting to be confined, or executed, not be told I still have a chance.”

  “It's not the first time I've heard that,” Trisha smiled. “Bryant had a few choice words for Tanda about not finding his mate sooner.”

  He scoffed, knowing how his uncle must've felt. But at least Tanda explained why he'd waited—his mate had to grow up. It was a strange thought, making him wonder how young she'd been when he'd first consulted the oracle.

  But an even stranger thought was that Troy actually had something to look forward to now. It was a refreshing change in comparison to the despair he'd experienced in recent years. In fact, he almost felt like a pup again, eager to get started, and the best way to do so was by asking Trisha, “So, got any advice for when I find her? Particularly if she's human.”

  Luther had turned Trisha nearly eight centuries ago, so if anyone would know, it would be his great-grandmother. With a smile on her face, she gave it some real thought before suggesting, “You have to be patient, Troy. Push it too soon, and you'll push her away. But if you wait, she'll come around and give you exactly what you're looking for.”

  Patience, he thought, nearly scoffing aloud. That was the one thing he had very little of. Still, just meeting his mate would slow the turning, so it wasn't impossible—he simply had to find her.

  At the thought, Troy asked the million dollar question.

  “When do I leave?”

  A few minutes later, he found himself in his room, packing for a flight taking off that evening. Trisha wanted to start work on their new home as soon as possible, and he went through his things while ignoring the broken tables and claw marks in the walls from his bouts of rage over the years.

  Instead, he considered the trip ahead of him. Troy hadn't visited Georgia in over a century, wondering how it would compare now to what he remembered, and how easy it might be to find his mate there. But mostly, his mind was consumed by questions of who she was, and what she was like.

  Emptying a drawer of clothing onto his bed, he was temporarily distracted from his curiosities by one of the items that tumbled out, being a black velvet jewelry box with a gold rim. It was something Troy had completely forgotten he owned, but clearly remembered buying.

  Snagging it to open the lid, he looked over the jeweled rose pendant laying against the beige interior. When it caught the light, it seemed to sparkle endlessly with petals made of rubies, pink topaz, and amethyst set in white gold. A nicely sized diamond was fixed at the center, making it a pricey accessory to be certain.

  He'd purchased it about twenty years ago, not long after he'd first returned to Canada to assist Adam in finding his mate. One afternoon, he'd passed a jewelry store on the way home from a trip into town, and noticed the necklace sitting in the window.

  Something about it had called to him, and though he didn't know who his mate was, or what her interests were, he knew in his gut she'd adore it. So he walked in, bought the pendant without question,
and left eager for the day he'd hand it over and see her reaction.

  But looking at it now, any yearning he had to finally give his gift was overwhelmed by rage at the thought of just how long he'd waited—long enough to forget he'd even bought the damned thing to begin with. I should've found her by now!

  He almost crushed the box in his fist, and would have if there hadn't been a perfectly good wall available to punch instead.

  The wood broke beneath his blow, splintering into his knuckles. But the violent outburst and the pain it offered helped him regain control—which was the exact reason his room always looked like the product of a war zone.

  Pulling his hand back, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the beast clawing away at his humanity. If Tanda was right, he'd have his mate soon and find some peace—though the thought wasn't entirely comforting. Troy simply couldn't allow himself to become too optimistic when he was just a step away from the same fate as Adam, who'd stood on the edge of his savage nature for years before going mad without warning.

  So there were no guarantees, and Troy shut the box with the thought in mind, slipping it into his jeans pocket to keep close. He wouldn't give up on finding her again, but if he hoped for too much only to be disappointed, he wouldn't recover this time.

  This trip was his last chance.

  Chapter 1

  Arkin City, Georgia

  “The Rite of Romedra? Really, Mom, another ritual?”

  Aislinn wasn't surprised that her mother, Miranda, had found yet another ritual for her to perform, but she did wonder just how many rituals could possibly exist in all the world. This has to be the last one.

  “What?” Miranda asked, canting her head. “It's the right time, and you already have a strong connection with magic. This will simply reinforce it.”

  “Mom,” Aislinn groaned, feeling like a teenager again—a sensation her mother evoked with ease.

  As was traditional for a Saturday afternoon, the two were having lunch in the dining room of the Carmichael family home, a three-story Victorian style house located about five miles from Braddock's Estate and just northeast of Arkin City. Aislinn's grandparents had purchased the property when her mother was still a young girl, and over the years, the family had decorated the interior in many different fashions.