“We’ll take photos and some evidence with us.” She adjusted the button on her jacket where there was a hidden camera. “If we see a laptop or hard drives, we should take those too. How are we getting in?”
“We can’t take the road into the warehouse,” he said. “Remy’ll have security around it. There’s another way, but … it’s not safe.”
“Not safe? How?”
“You’ll see soon, cher.”
They pulled off the freeway and onto a smaller highway. As they drove on, there were fewer and fewer houses dotting the countryside. Then they turned off onto a dirt road, drove for a few more minutes, before he stopped the car and killed the engine.
“We’re here.”
She got out of car. “Where are we?”
“The bayou, cher.”
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized they were surrounded by thick vegetation and trees as tall as buildings. Their branches stretched out overhead, creating a natural canopy. The air was thick and musty, and the only sounds she could hear were the various critters scuttling around them. “Wow.” She’d never seen anything like this.
“It’s beautiful, yes, but like I said, dangerous. We gotta be careful of the gators.”
“There’re alligators in there?” she asked incredulously.
“Oui, but they don’t bother us as long as we don’t bother them. Now, let’s go.” He gestured toward the boat tied up at the end of a short dock that jutted out into the water. “I’ll have to paddle us up. They’ll hear any engine approaching.”
He led her to the boat and helped her inside. It was difficult to find a comfortable position, especially in her condition, but she managed to tuck her legs under her as she sat on the middle seat. She felt the little dinghy sway and dip as he positioned himself behind her and took up the paddles.
“We’ll come around the back of the property, say, a good fifty feet from the warehouse. I’ll find a suitable place where we can travel through the shadows and get us inside without anyone knowing. Remy’ll have at least two guys there, plus a whole load of cameras and motion sensors.”
“Hopefully we can get in and out quickly.” A knot in her stomach formed, and she wondered if this was going to work. It has to. This was the only way to get Remy out of the picture. “How much further?” They seemed to have gone deeper into the bayou, as her enhanced hearing couldn’t even pick up any signs of civilization. Just insects, small animals, and the whoosh of the boat as it sliced through the water. And, thankfully, no slithering gators.
“It’s much farther than I thought,” he said. “I’ve never taken this way, Remy never let me. Forbade me to come near the swamps.” He shuddered. “I don’t even know how to swim.”
“You don’t swim?” She jerked her head back at him. “Seriously?”
“Oui.”
“What if we capsize? Or the boat springs a leak? Or—”
“Shh … don’t worry your pretty little head, cher.” He flashed her a grin. “I’ll—” The smile faded from his lips.
“Marc?” Her neck was getting strained, so she turned around carefully. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
His mouth parted. “Do you hear that?”
She looked around them. “Hear what?”
“Somethin’s calling me.” He blinked. “I have to—” He stopped as the boat jerked.
“Marc!” she screamed and grabbed onto him. The boat began to move sideward, like a force was pulling them to shore. His arms tightened around her as they moved faster, the side of the boat hitting land so hard, they tumbled out. Immediately, he shielded her, wrapping his body around so she landed on him, instead of the ground.
“Oomph!” She braced herself against him. “What the hell?”
He quickly hauled her up to her feet, then her vision went dark as he pulled them back into the shadows. “Stay still, cher. I don’t know what—”
Air rushed out of her lungs as she felt her body being pushed forward, and she fell, landing on her hands and knees. She ignored the pain that shot up her limbs as she struggled for breath. Looking around her, she realized her vision had gone back to normal. “What happened?”
He was on his knees too, his hands braced on the ground, shaking his head. “I … I don’t know. It was like someone reached in and kicked me out of the shadows.”
“Who are you and how’d you do that?”
Mika froze when she felt the presence in front of them. The person—female, from the voice—didn’t smell like a Lycan or a human for that matter. Witch, then. Slowly, she lifted her head.
Staring down at her was an older woman, probably in her late forties to early fifties, with light brown hair that came to her waist. The expression on her face was stern, and Mika felt the power she radiated as those dark eyes seemed to bore into her.
Beside her was a girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She looked like a younger version of the woman. The expression on her face was curious, and her ebony eyes darted from Mika to Delacroix.
“I said, who are you and how did you do that?” The woman repeated, a ripple of energy pulsed all around them.
Her wolf immediately went into defense mode, raising its hackles and baring its teeth.
Delacroix reached over to wrap a hand around her arm. “She’s … using the energy of the shadows … I don’t know how but—”
“Lycans,” the woman spat. “Didn’t we tell your Alpha to never cross into our territory again?”
“We’re not from Boudreaux’s clan,” she said, trying to keep her wolf leashed. It was a difficult task, seeing as her animal was extra protective because of their pup.
“Then what you creepin’ ’round here for? And”—her eyes blazed at Delacroix—“how are you able to walk the dark trail?”
“Walk the dark trail?” he asked.
“You moved into the shadows,” she said, her teeth gritting together. “You can access dark magic. But you’re a Lycan. How could that be?”
“Mama.” The young girl grabbed the woman’s hand and tugged excitedly. “He’s like us.” She smiled shyly at them. “I see the magic surrounding him. Like yours.” She waved her hand around her mother’s shape. “And mine.”
The woman’s brows snapped together. “Marina … are you sure?”
“Yes, Mama.” She squinted at Mika. “And you! You’re glowing.”
What did the girl mean? “Glowing?”
“Come,” the woman said before Mika could ask further. “Get up. We’re gonna figure this out now.”
Mika and Delacroix looked at each other. “Not like we have a choice,” she said.
“No.” His mouth pulled back into a hard line. “And I have this feeling … I need to know.”
She wished she could read his mind, because so many emotions flashed on his face in such a short span. “Let’s go then.”
Delacroix got up first, and then helped her up. When the woman saw Mika’s pregnant belly, she muttered a string of curses. “I wouldn’t have … if I had known.”
“I’m fine.” She dusted the dirt off her jeans. There was a feeling of relief that swept over her at the other woman’s concern. It at least reassured her that they wouldn’t hurt her or her baby.
They followed the woman and her daughter deeper into the woods, walking through the dense and thick plant life. Though there was no trail, they both seemed to know where to go. Mika saw a light up ahead, which she guessed was their destination. A few seconds later, they emerged into a clearing.
The air here seemed different, why, she didn’t know. Seven cabins stood in a semi-circle in the middle of the clearing, and they were led toward the one in the middle. There was a light coming from inside, and thick smoke curled up from the chimney.
“Stay here,” the woman instructed as she walked up the porch steps. She was about to open the door when it flew open, and another figure trudged out. “Mama?”
“Gabrielle! What’s goin’ on? Did you feel it?” came the deep, gravelly
voice. “Somethin’ disturbs the shadows. I—” She hobbled forward with a careful gait, the light slowly revealing long locks of white hair framing a wrinkled face, and dark eyes that were as sharp as blades.
“He can walk the dark trail, Mama,” the woman said.
“Come closer, boy,” the crone said, gesturing with her withered fingers.
Delacroix took a step forward, his face expressionless. “I’ve lived in Pont Saint-Louis all my life. Never knew there were witches around these parts.”
Her mouth opened as she gasped. “You …”
The woman—Gabrielle—moved protectively in front of the old woman. “Mama, what’s wrong? Do you know this man?”
Those obsidian eyes never left Delacroix. “You’re alive.”
His brows knit in confusion. “Last I checked.”
“You were lost … we were told you had died, but … you’re here. Child of the shadows, you are home.” Tears glistened on the woman’s weathered cheeks, and she lunged forward, seemingly finding a surge of youthful energy. She nearly toppled down the stairs, and Delacroix caught her in an instant, arms going around her before she fell.
There was a crackle of energy there—recognition—as the two came face-to-face.
“Mama, what’s going on?” Gabrielle asked as she rushed toward them. “Take your hands away from my—”
“Gabrielle, oh, Gabrielle, don’t you see? I know you don’t have the sight, but look.” The woman sobbed. “Look into his eyes. Eyes passed down from our ancestors. Beaumont eyes.”
Mika did a double take. It had been staring her in the face the whole time, yet her brain didn’t put it together. Delacroix. Gabrielle. Marina. And the old woman. They all had the same eyes. “Are you—”
“You’re him. Who else could you be? She could walk the dark trail too.” The old woman pressed her face to his cheek. “You’re my Helene’s baby.”
“H-Helene?” he stuttered.
“My daughter. You’re Helene Beaumont’s son. And my grandson.”
“I … it can’t …”
“Of course you are,” the old woman insisted. “She was your father’s True Mate. When she found out about you, she was so happy. And so was your father …” A whimper escaped her mouth.
“My … mother and father? But I was told I was abandoned.” His face went pale. “I don’t understand.”
The old woman took a deep breath. “Come, child, follow your mémère. Let’s go inside. I have some étouffée on the stove. It’ll warm your stomach and cure what ails you. Bring your True Mate along.” She winked at Mika, turned around, and headed inside, Gabrielle and Marina at her heels.
Mika’s jaw dropped. How did the old woman know?
Delacroix took her hand in his. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be here. I won’t leave.”
With a decisive nod, he led her up the porch steps.
Chapter Sixteen
The smell of spices, savory tomatoes, and crawfish tickled Delacroix’s nose as they entered the old woman’s—his grandmother’s, apparently—house. It wasn’t grand or fancy, but it was clean, the wood floors scrubbed down, the couch overstuffed and comfy, and various knickknacks displayed all over. If he ever dreamed of what a home would be like while growing up, he supposed this is what it would have been.
“Come see, come see.” She gestured to the table with her gnarled hands. “Sit, both of you.”
He itched for her to move faster, but from the look Gabrielle had given him, he knew it was best to let the old woman go at her pace. He pulled out a chair for Mika and then sat beside her at the large kitchen table. Much like the rest of the furniture, it was well-used and serviceable, and he could imagine hundreds of family meals eaten here. Meals his mother had eaten.
The revelation of his mother’s family had been a shock, one that he hadn’t quite recovered from. So many questions loomed in his mind all at once. Growing up, he’d been reminded by Remy over and over again that his parents abandoned him, so he never cared much for them. They didn’t want him, and so he didn’t want them either. Now …
The sound of bowls clattering on the wooden table knocked him out of his thoughts.
“Eat,” the old woman urged. “It’s good, good, eh?”
He picked up a spoon and took a bite of the hot stew. “Delicious,” he said politely. It probably was, but he couldn’t concentrate on the taste.
Beside him, Mika took a spoonful in her mouth. “Oh, wow. That’s like, the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” She ate a few more spoonfuls. “Oh God, that really did cure what ails me.”
The old woman laughed. “I like her, your mate.”
Mika swallowed the mouthful she had in her mouth. “Um, I was wondering, ma’am, how did you know?”
“That you are my grandson’s mate?” She looked at Mika’s stomach. “I suppose anyone could have guessed, but I have the sight, you know.”
“The sight?” she echoed. “As in, you can see the future?”
She clucked her tongue and eased herself onto a chair, Gabrielle assisting her. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Adelaide. Adelaide Beaumont. And this is my daughter, Gabrielle, and my granddaughter, Marina.”
“I’m Mika Westbrooke. And this is, er, Marc Delacroix.”
“Good, strong name. Taken from the god of war.” A warm smile touched her lips as she fixed her gaze on him, her expression wistful. “My elder daughter, Helene, was just like you. She too, had the power to go into the shadows. ‘Walk the dark trail’ as we call it. One day, about thirty-five years ago, she came to me and said she met someone special and wanted me to meet him. He came here to this house, and I knew it. I saw it.”
“Saw what?” he asked.
“My powers—the dark sight, we call it. No, it does not show me the future. It shows me magic. I can sense power in others, as well as residual power when someone touches an object with great magic. But what I saw with them … it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Her eyes shone with tears. “It looked like a golden thread, so delicate and shiny, linking him to Helene. They both shone like two bright stars who only orbited around each other.”
“I can see it too, Mémère,” Marina chirped and pointed to Mika and Delacroix. “I can see the dark glow around him, like you and Mama. But her … it’s magic, but different.” She gestured to the empty space between them. “And the string …”
Adelaide smiled warmly at the girl. “Oui, ma chevrette.”
“You could see their True Mate bond?” Mika’s eyes went wide.
“I can, just as I can see yours and my grandson’s. And it’s beautiful and pulses with life when you’re carrying. That’s how I knew Helene was pregnant with you,” she said to Delacroix. “She was so happy when I told her.”
“Then why did they abandon me?” Marc asked, his voice tight.
Adelaide pressed a hand to her chest. “Is that what you were told? Then you were lied to. We all were.” Her hand shook as she placed it over his. “He told us you died. I never believed it.”
The lump forming in his throat made it hard to breathe or speak.
“Who did?” Mika asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Remy Boudreaux, your father’s Alpha. He didn’t approve of the match. Hated what she was,” she said, gnashing her teeth. “But he allowed them to live on their territory, but forbade us to come visit. One day, he sent over one of his lackeys. Told us that Helene died in childbirth. Sent her ashes back to us. Hers and the child’s, they said, because you were stillborn.” She sobbed hard, and Gabrielle placed an arm around her as Marina wrapped her arms around her waist.
“And my father?” he managed to croak out.
“He said he was killed by a gang of Lone Wolves when they broke into their home. That’s what made her go into labor early and die.”
The information was still processing in his head. “What was my father’s name?” he asked.
“Armand Delacroix.”
“Delacroix?”
“Yes,” Adelaide said. “What’s wrong?”
“I was fostered with a couple named Delacroix, but they died a few years after they took me in. No one told me if I was related to them. Were they my grandparents?”
“I’m not sure, child.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I don’t even know why Boudreaux would lie to all of us.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Gabrielle said bitterly. “Remy killed them. I know it.”
“How are you sure?” Mika asked.
“Armand loved her so much, and once the baby—Marc—was born, they were planning to leave the clan. He would go Lone Wolf and live here with us. Remy must have found out and killed them. Helene told me …” She took a deep breath. “Remy acted strange around her … she thinks while Remy hated what she was, he also wanted her for himself. I think he was in love with her.”
It was all starting to make sense. Why Remy hated him too, but yet kept him around. Why he arranged for him to be fostered with his family, but didn’t tell anyone who he really was.
“All this time … I knew in my heart there was something wrong with the story. My poor Helene,” Adelaide wailed.
“I’m so sorry,” Mika said. “And I hope you know, not all our kind hates witches. In fact, we have several witches and warlocks who found their True Mates with our clans. Their children are like your grandson—hybrids, we call them.”
“We know about them,” Gabrielle offered. “But do not lump us together with all witches.”
“Wait, you mean, you’re not witches?” Mika frowned. “But you have magic.”
“We do,” Gabrielle said. “But we are not like your nature witches. They call us swamp witches, at least they did when we still associated with them.” Her nose wrinkled. “We use dark magic, very different from their light magic.”
“Do not be afraid,” Adelaide said when Mika let out a horrified gasp. “Dark magic is not evil. It’s not bad, just another facet of magic. Even the moon must have a dark and light side, one bathed in nature’s light and the other in its shadow.”
Shadow Wolf Page 18
