by Emma Savant
I waved as I entered the building, and he started a little, as though I’d pulled him away from something.
“Thanks for coming over,” I said. “Mind if we go up to the café? I need caffeine.”
He shrugged and followed me into an elevator. It was a long, awkward ride up, and I tried to ignore the tension in the air. I couldn’t think of any small talk to make with him.
What was I supposed to say? Done any good camping lately in our local werewolf forest?
But I had to bring it up.
“My family just destroyed that werewolf den to get my grandma back,” I said. “Is that going to be a problem with us working together?”
His already large hazel eyes widened, though I couldn’t tell if he was surprised at what I’d said or simply startled that I’d spoken at all after so many floors of silence. The elevator jerked to a stop.
“No,” he said as the doors slid open. I hit the button to close them again, and he watched them seal before he continued. “I told you, I’m not involved with those guys anymore. What you do to the Wildwoods is your business.”
“I’m sorry they turned your friend,” I said.
“I’m sorry they took your grandma.” He kept his voice low. The door opened again. “Is she okay?”
I nodded once, sharply. “They won’t mess with us again.”
“Good.”
We settled at a table, me with the strongest coffee I could find and Alec with a glass of water. Somehow, that choice didn’t surprise me. He seemed exactly like the kind of guy who could be told, “Whatever you want, it’s all on the house” and go for tap water.
I gestured toward the small box, and he pulled off the lid to reveal his third clasp. The one he’d left after the ash triskele had been a simple filigree leaf of moon-wrought silver. It had been beautiful and perfectly made, but ordinary. This was something else entirely.
“May I?”
“It’s yours,” he said, pushing the box across the table to me.
I lifted the object and held it up to the light. It was made of two identical parts. Each was composed from a triangle of thick bronze-hued leather embossed with a pattern of interlocking seven-pointed stars. At the center of each triangle was a large oval toadstone. The gold setting around each stone brought out rich tones in the ordinarily murky gems, and the thick gold hook that held the two pieces together gleamed.
“Behemoth leather,” he said. “It’s sturdy. Its influence will make the cloak sturdy, too. Some people even say it protects the wearer.”
“I’ve heard that.”
I turned the clasp over in my hands. “She’s going to love this.”
“What do you think?”
“It’s different,” I said. “Good-different. I don’t know if it’s what the Faerie Queen will be into but I think it’s beautiful.”
Alec leaned forward and softened his voice. “Is there anywhere we could talk privately?”
“We can talk here,” I said. I pressed a small silver star etched into one side of the table. A soft whispering static sound rose into the air around us. “Charms installed for business meetings,” I said. “Also used for employee gossip. Ended up being a mixed bag.”
“That’s… unexpected,” Alec said. He looked around, then back at me. “You need to be careful with the Wildwoods.”
“You don’t have to whisper,” I said. “The charm’s more than just noise. You could scream bloody murder, and everyone could see you doing it, but they wouldn’t hear a thing.”
He furrowed his brow. “That sounds safe.”
“Like I said: mixed bag.”
He took the clasp from me and nestled it back in the box. “If your family invaded the Wildwoods’ territory, especially their den, you need to be prepared for some pushback,” he said. “It’s possible they’ve changed since I knew them, but if they’re kidnapping little old ladies, they probably haven’t.”
“I got the feeling you were mad at me last time we talked,” I said. “What changed?”
“Nothing’s changed,” he said. “I still think going after your grandma alone that night was dumb.”
I felt like I should have been offended. But it had been dumb. Pepper’s empty spot in the mansion was evidence of that.
“I get why you did it, though,” he said. “If I’d been able to go after Cate back when they took her, nothing would have stopped me.”
“Cate,” I said. “That’s your friend.”
He nodded. “The Wildwoods wouldn’t have let me rescue her back then. They knew me. I didn’t have any way to sneak in, and it would have been me against the whole pack if I’d tried to force it. But if I’d had a bike, or a knife like yours, or even just a little bit more courage, maybe I could have saved her.”
The regret in his voice stabbed me, because I felt the same thing every time I thought about the werewolf pack and even what had come before, when Sienna had been chosen as Stiletto. Everything had gone wrong, and it was impossible to stop my brain from chewing on all the possibilities that could have come out of my being just a little bit smarter, a little bit faster, or a little bit more attentive.
“Don’t let your guard down,” he said. “And don’t underestimate their alpha.”
“I made that mistake once,” I said. “Won’t do it again.”
His hand jerked on the table, and he tried to conceal it by reaching for his water glass. “You know Brendan?”
“Yeah,” I said.
My tone made it clear that this subject wasn’t open for discussion. Alec held on to his glass but didn’t drink. Finally, he said, “They’ll be angry with you for taking their prey back and going into their den. Lie low. Don’t give them a reason to attack you.”
They already had reasons, and a whole history. But Alec didn’t need to know that.
“I appreciate it,” I said. I took the box with the clasp and cleared my throat, then pushed the star again. The static faded. “I’ll be careful.”
30
It was late evening by the time I wrapped up my work at Carnelian, and I was almost to my bike in the parking garage when Brendan stepped out from behind a parked car.
I leapt back as my mind shifted into overdrive. He was taller and heavier than I was, but his throat would be vulnerable to a jab if I was fast. His shoes had laces I might be able to untie or knot together with a quick charm while I ran. His torso would be open to attack if I could get my dagger in my hand in time.
“Calm down, Scarlett.”
“Screw you.”
He held out his hands and backed up until he hit the car door. He leaned against it. “Look, no weapons.”
“You don’t need weapons, you’re a goddamn werewolf.”
He folded his arms and frowned down at me. “I’m not about to transform in a downtown parking garage.”
“I’m going to trust that about as much as I trust anything that’s come out of your mouth since we met.”
I locked my eyes on him and reached into my boot for my dagger. He watched me but didn’t move or attempt to defend himself. I held the weapon out.
“This blade is silver and has a thousand years of spells to protect it and me,” I said. “You’ll stay the hell away from me if you’re smart.”
“It’s too late for that,” he said. “I’m not smart, and I didn’t stay away from you. I knew I should have, but then you almost punched me at Gilt, and that was hard to resist.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I like a woman who can hold her own,” he said.
I didn’t have time for banter. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends. I held the blade up and took a few measured steps toward my bike. He kept watching with his arms folded.
I stopped with the motorcycle between us.
“What are you doing here?” I said.
“I need to talk to you.”
I snorted and climbed onto my motorcycle, keeping my weapon squarely pointed at him as I settled into the seat.
“Your pac
k murdered one of my sisters,” I said. “You don’t get to talk.”
“We didn’t do anything to her,” he said sharply. “It was an accident. Did Nelly say we killed her?” His voice rose. “Did she lie about that the way she lies about everything? We didn’t touch that woman, I swear. One of my pack saw her bike hit a tree. She wasn’t paying attention.”
“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.”
“It’s not an insult, it’s just what happened,” he said.
“You can go to Hell,” I said. “Or the pound, or wherever werewolves like you belong.”
A slight expression of amusement crossed his face. I’d been around him long enough to recognize that expression, and I hated it.
“I’m going to make a guess,” he said. “And you can tell me if I’m right or wrong. How’s that?”
I should fire up my bike and go. I knew it, and I didn’t move.
“A guess about what?”
“My guess is that you don’t know anything about the history between our families. Or if you do, it’s a botched history. My guess is that you don’t know anything about what the Daggers did to my pack.”
“Nelly killed your dad,” I said. “Good riddance to him. Anyone who’d try to turn a little girl is a monster.”
“What else?”
I held tight to my handlebar with one hand and kept the dagger leveled at him with the other. It was starting to feel stupid to keep a weapon raised toward him when he seemed so clearly uninterested in attacking me, at least physically. But I couldn’t set it down.
“What else do you need?” I said. “Dogs are loyal, aren’t they? And you’re probably loyal to your old man even if he was a piece of garbage.”
His jaw twitched, and his eyes narrowed slightly. But whatever he was feeling, he kept it to himself.
“There’s more to my pack than you understand,” he said. “And more to your family than I think anyone’s told you.”
“What business is that of yours?”
“I like you,” he said.
I snorted, but he raised his eyebrows and waited for me to get over my skepticism.
I wasn’t about to get over my skepticism, not by half, but I pressed my lips together. If he wanted to talk and spill information about his pack, that was his mistake.
“I like you,” he repeated. “I think you’re better than that life they want to shoehorn you into. And I think you’re smart, which means they’ve been lying to you, because if they’d told you the truth, you wouldn’t defend them like this.”
Rage rose in me, coiled like a snake and ready to strike.
Brendan, though, didn’t look angry. He could have, and he should have, but instead his face was—not calm, exactly. But earnest. Sincere.
I lowered the dagger.
“You have thirty seconds.”
“It’s not going to fit into thirty seconds,” he said. “Come to my den. We’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but you have to listen to what I have to say, too.”
“I’m not interested in being invited to your house for dinner,” I said. “I know how that fairy tale ends.”
“We don’t eat people,” he said flatly.
“No, you just turn them.”
“We do,” he said. “And if you knew the whole story, you’d be glad we did.”
I narrowed my eyes and watched him, but just looking wasn’t enough to tell me what I needed to know. His expression was hard to read, and even if he thought he was telling the truth, that didn’t mean he was sane. Nobody who would attack children and kidnap my grandmother could be.
And yet, I knew him, or I’d thought I did. He seemed sharp, funny, intense—but not crazy.
“This is between you and me just as much as it is between our families,” he said. “I can see the way you’re looking at me, Scarlett.”
His voice lowered a little, and I realized with a start that he was hurting.
And something about that—about knowing that he was upset, and that maybe it had something to do with me, made the resistance inside me fade.
But not by much.
“If we meet, it’s to talk about a truce,” I said. “Just you and me.”
“My pack will be there,” he said. “They don’t have to be part of the conversation, but there are people I need you to meet.”
People. It seemed like the wrong word for the monsters who’d kidnapped my grandmother and killed my sister.
“I’ll be armed.”
“So will we.”
“No,” I said. “You won’t. Not if I’m outnumbered like that.”
“Scarlett, we can’t be unarmed,” he said. “We’re werewolves. Our weapons come with us.”
“Then you won’t take wolf form,” I said. “You’ll let me cast a spell on your den to prevent anyone from transforming.”
His eyebrows shot up like he’d been slapped. “You really think I’m going to let you come to my den, armed, and then not let my wolves shift?”
“You came to see me,” I said. “You make the concessions.”
He stared at me, disbelief on his face. “You want me to let you lock them in their human bodies? It’s like a prison.”
I stared back.
“Fine,” he said. “All right. We won’t be armed, but neither will you.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.
“That’s fair,” he said. “You can’t say that’s not fair. And if we all decide to attack each other, we can do it with our fists.”
“I’m good with my fists,” I said. “So fine. Deal. I have things to do today, so I’ll be there tomorrow at three.”
“Three doesn’t work for me.”
“Take it or leave it.”
He scowled at me, but I wasn’t about to back down, and he knew it if he had any sense.
He narrowed his eyes a little. “Three,” he conceded.
“Now get out of my grandma’s parking garage.”
He held out a hand. “After you.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I insist.”
I rode my bike slowly behind him as he walked to the elevator. I waited on the ground floor until the door opened. Once out on the road, he turned one way and I turned the other, and then I went home to craft the biggest spell of my life.
31
The forest’s thick canopy hung overhead, its heaviness matched by the gray skies. I’d hoped for mid-afternoon sunshine, but of course Portland wasn’t about to cooperate. I wove my bike through the now-familiar deer trails, and the dark gloom of the woods clung to me. This time, when I reached the clearing, I didn’t bother to stop my bike.
Brendan was waiting at the mouth of the den, his arms folded. His jaw was hard as he watched me park the motorcycle. His shoulders were hard, too, and his eyes. Everything about him was hard, and it was sexy as hell.
I should have stopped finding him hot as soon as I’d realized he was evil incarnate, but biology didn’t work that way. He was still gorgeous, and it pissed me off.
“Move.” I approached him and held up a talisman I’d spent the entire previous evening enchanting. “I need to put this at the entrance to the den to prevent any of you from going wolf on me.”
“This really isn’t necessary,” he said, but stood aside and let me work.
I held the talisman until my skin warmed the metal. I’d stolen the small silver sun from Grandma’s spellcraft room, and I felt its energy wake in my hand. I buried the charm in the earth at the center of the den, then held a hand over the spot where it lay hidden and chanted a few choice words under my breath.
The energy vibrating under my hand pulsed and diffused, and it burrowed deep into the labyrinth of the den. Its energy spread like the roots of a tree, branching each time it reached a new corridor, and then the spell subtly clicked into place.
It would last until tomorrow or until I collected the talisman, whichever came first.
I hoped.
“So I could just dig t
hat up and things would go back to normal?” Brendan said.
I jumped. I hadn’t realized he’d been standing so close behind me.
“The magic’s tied to me,” I said. “You could take it to Zimbabwe and it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“Must be nice to be a witch,” he said. “Seems easier than magician work. Just bury a charm and you’re done.”
I cut my eyes at him. I was still exhausted from crafting the layers of spells I’d needed to ensure the werewolves couldn’t transform on me—and even now, success wasn’t guaranteed. Magic was a delicate art, and any mistake on my part could have ruined the spell completely and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.
Which wasn’t something Brendan needed to understand.
“Whatever I’m doing here, let’s get on with it,” I said. “I have things to do today.”
“I’m sure you do.”
He gestured toward the opening of the den. It wasn’t much, just a dark shadow between two slabs of rock, but it was enough to make me shiver under my jacket.
Senses on alert, I stepped through the gap with one hand out against the wall. The darkness enveloped me almost immediately, and I closed my eyes to help them adjust more quickly. The ground beneath me smoothed out as the scattered pine needles and twigs underfoot gave way to hard-swept earth.
When I opened my eyes, with one hand still on the wall, I found myself in a cozy sitting room. Lamps hammered into the stone walls gave off a warm glow that echoed the light of a fireplace opposite, and a few plush couches with colorful throw pillows gave the place an inviting look. It was warm in here and smelled pleasantly of earth and plants.
It wasn’t quite what I’d been expecting.
“The room we kept your grandmother in was a bit like this,” Brendan said. “Just so you know.”
“You still kidnapped her.”
He shrugged and led the way farther into the den, down a darkened corridor with a low ceiling. I didn’t have to duck to keep my head from brushing the stone overhead, but Brendan did, and it gave his shoulders a hulking curve that reminded me of how he appeared in his wolf form.
