Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology

by Michelle Diener

  I held her gaze. “We’ll get through this.”

  She retreated a step, out of my embrace, letting my hands slip from hers. “I need time to figure this out.” She took another step backward. Her expression hardened. “I don’t even know how to be a mate. I came here to sell Joan’s house and set myself up in the city. I didn’t come here for…”

  Me.

  The sentence hung in the air, tearing out my heart. She’d come here with the intention of leaving, she’d made that clear from day one. But I thought I could convince her to stay. Convince her to be with me. Instead, all I’d shown her were death and danger.

  I stood. “Let me cook you dinner. I’ll answer any questions you have.”

  She shook her head. “No. I need time to think. Alone.”

  Without waiting for my reply, she turned and walked out the door. I let her go even though every cell in my body screamed to chase her. She wanted space, I understood that. But I couldn’t lose her again. Not after waiting so long for her to come back.

  How the hell did I screw this up so badly?

  Chapter 14

  Mia

  For what seemed like hours, I searched the house looking for something, anything to prove my family were hunters, descendants of witches. The conversation with Noah played on repeat in my mind.

  How didn’t I know about shifters? Or that I was part of some ancient cursed family, destined to become a hunter? How did that knowledge just skip me? If Joan hadn’t died, would she have eventually told me? Did that mean I was also part witch?

  “Ugh!” I crawled out of the nook underneath the stairs, banging the back of my head. “Ouch.”

  I found nothing to suggest that Joan was a sick hunter hellbent on drinking wolf blood for immortality. I gagged at the thought.

  But I kept coming back to one question. Why would Noah lie? He had nothing to gain from lying to me. As he said, he had everything to lose.

  Which brought me back to the whole mate thing. So many unanswered questions.

  In the kitchen, I grabbed a mug to make herbal tea…nope, screw that. I abandoned the tea in favor of bourbon, pouring a generous amount and taking it outside to sit on the back step. The cool night air would do me some good, clear my head and help figure out what to do next.

  This late, the forest was eerie. Shadowy branches swayed in the breeze, leaves rustling along the forest floor. Somewhere over to the right, a creature scurried between the trees.

  I sipped the bourbon, briefly closing my eyes as the burn traveled down my throat, warming my chest.

  The Whitcomes are hunters…

  I never saw anything to suggest my mother knew about the shifter world or was a hunter. People who hunted the blood of wolves to become near immortal. My mother wasn’t…

  “Oh, no.”

  Every time I saw my mother, which wasn’t often, she’d barely aged. Growing up, she constantly dumped me with people so she could go on work trips around the country. Was she…hunting?

  Bile rose in my throat.

  Had my mother hidden this life from me the entire time? After the argument she had with Joan when I first came here, Mom never brought me back. Was it because she discovered Joan’s secret? Did my mother want me to become a hunter?

  Was that why she treated me like such a failure?

  I tried to think about everything Joan said to me the summer I spent here. But it was too long ago, I couldn’t possibly remember. The only rule Joan had was to stay out of the tool shed. She never warned me about the wolves or hunters. In fact, she often saw me with Noah’s wolf. I remember one time, the anguish on her face as she sat on the back porch watching me sketch Thor. I thought she felt sad for hardly seeing her granddaughter. But…

  She knew the wolf was a shifter. The wolf knew Joan was a hunter.

  The final pieces fell into place.

  I lifted the mug to my lips and took a longer sip. It did nothing to calm my fluttering heart, or ease the pain spreading through my chest. My mind wouldn’t stop repeating Noah’s words. I needed to know for sure. But I’d looked everywhere…

  The shed.

  Since coming back, I hadn’t bothered to look in there, unsure why. Maybe subconsciously I didn’t want to know what Joan hid from me. Why was it so important that I not go in there?

  I lowered the mug to the floor and stood, peering toward the shed. This late at night, I needed a flashlight. I darted back inside, grabbed one, and returned to the porch, shining the light along the trees until it fell on the tool shed at the far end of the yard.

  I hesitated.

  The weird sensations swirling in my stomach intensified. I should just take my bourbon and go back inside. Did I really want to know what was in the shed? If I ignored it, I could pretend this world didn’t exist and that I wasn’t a part of it.

  But…that wouldn’t work. I needed answers.

  Before I wimped out, I jogged down the stairs and across the lawn guided by the flashlight. The door handle of the shed warmed under my touch. Thank goodness it wasn’t locked.

  Hang on. Why wasn’t it locked?

  The instant I stepped across the threshold a cold shiver skated down my spine.

  Everything’s fine, I won’t find anything.

  I shined the flashlight around the space, landing on the nearest workbench. What the…? I crept closer. Jar after jar, filled with leaves, plants, powders. Vines and sticks weaved together in strange hanging ornaments like on those supernatural TV shows I watched. More proof Joan was a witch.

  Tucking the flashlight under my arm, I screwed the lid off one jar and lifted it to my nose. Dried herbs.

  That wasn’t so bad.

  I swept the light around the space, turning in a full circle. At the far end, an oversized metal cabinet caught my attention, and I gravitated to it. My hands shook so much I barely unlatched the lock.

  Dread rolled around in my belly.

  I creaked open the door and aimed the flashlight on the contents.

  I gagged, slapping a hand over my mouth.

  More jars stacked the shelves. Only this time, not filled with dried herbs, but…bits. Fingers, eyeballs, fur, pieces of flesh floating in pale orange liquid. I gagged again, inspecting the closest jar. Inside were two amber eyeballs.

  Did Joan use them in the concoction she gave the Cole family? Or had she used them to fight the hunter compulsion?

  A wolf howled deep in the forest, startling me. I cocked my ear in the direction. The howl sounded different, not Noah. Maybe one of his brothers?

  I waited. Listened. When the wolf didn’t howl again, I turned away from the cabinet and aimed the flashlight at the roof. The metal cabinet was nothing compared to this. Huge animal traps hung from the solid timber beams, chunky meat cleavers, rusted metal chains. The shed resembled a freaking horror movie.

  Sick to the stomach, I spun to leave. The flashlight landed on a thick, leather bound book with an ancient symbol embossed on the cover. Oh, no. I inched closer. I opened the book and flicked through the pages. Spells. Hundreds of them. Pictures of the same woven sticks and vines that hung in the shed, sketches of wolves, and strange symbols.

  This wasn’t an ordinary old book. This was a grimoire.

  A folded piece of parchment tucked between the pages caught my attention. I slipped it out and aimed the flashlight so I could read it. It contained a detailed Whitcome family tree at the top of the page, ending with my name. Below was a list of about a dozen surnames with one underlined, written above all the others.

  Elizabeth Whitcome.

  I staggered back.

  Noah was right. The Whitcomes were hunters. But not just any hunters. I had an awful feeling my ancestor was the powerful witch who created the curse.

  Chills scratched along my spine.

  A wolf howled again. This time the lead weight sank lower in my stomach. Something was wrong. I dug my hand in my back pocket reaching for my cell only to realize I’d left it on the porch.

  Damn it.


  Noah said they caught the hunter from the waterfall, that the forest was safe. But was it? Oh, dear Lord, with Joan dead, would more hunters come here to search for shifters? Were they related to me?

  As a teenager, I always felt safe in the woods. Clearly, that safety was thanks to Joan and all this magical witch business. Plus, I hadn’t lied when I said Thor protected me. He was with me every time I ventured into the forest and never left my side.

  I should call Noah. I didn’t like what he said, but he’d told me the truth. I had so many questions and only he could answer them.

  I closed the cupboard and turned to leave.

  From the corner of my eye, a shadow passed the window of the shed. I stilled. Was it Noah? One of his brothers?

  Someone else?

  I switched off the flashlight until I knew for sure. In the darkness, my pulse whooshed in my ears. My heart lodged in my throat as the seconds ticked by, ears straining with every slight sound.

  Gravel crunched around the side of the shed, moving toward the door. It creaked open. A shadowy figure loomed in the doorway.

  I dropped to the floor, huddling behind a bench.

  “I know you’re in here.” A deep menacing voice made the hairs at the back of my neck stiffen. “I can smell you.”

  Noah

  My cell rang again, and Ash’s picture flashed on the home screen. I tossed it on the passenger seat and let it go to voicemail. For the fourth time.

  I loved my brothers, but sometimes they just needed to back off and give me space.

  After Mia left the bar, I locked up and drove. Without a destination in mind, I kept the foot on the gas, heading aimlessly down the highway.

  Foreboding swirled in my gut all afternoon, and it wouldn’t let up. I put it down to offloading all those secrets to Mia, and given we’d had sex, it awoke the ancient bond between us. I sensed her uncertainty, her unease. All her emotions collided inside me confusing the hell out of me.

  My cell rang again, this time Liam.

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  Knowing they wouldn’t give up until I checked in, I pulled the truck to the side of the road and answered.

  “What?” I barked.

  “Where the fuck are you?” Liam snapped.

  At his tone, adrenaline surged through my veins, muscles coiled tight, preparing for action. My wolf, who’d paced back and forth all afternoon, now clawed against my insides growling to shift.

  Before I even registered my movements, I turned the truck around and sped back to Woodland Falls.

  “Twenty miles out of town. Why?”

  “Is Mia with you?”

  All that adrenaline coiled into a knot. I accelerated. “No. What the hell’s going on?”

  “Baker called. He caught one of their shifters working with a hunter.”

  I waited for the punch line. Shifters working with hunters wasn’t the most shocking news of the decade. Hell, even we did…before Joan died.

  “Spit it out, Liam.”

  “The one they caught yesterday wasn’t the hunter who killed Joan. The sick sonofabitch is still out there.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s not all. Baker tortured the shifter. He said since escaping, the hunter has been hiding in Woodland Falls.”

  The truck’s engine whined as my foot slammed against the floor. Violent tremors quaked my body, my wolf getting impatient. Liam needed to talk faster. I could only hold off the shift for so long. Shifting while I drove wasn’t the smartest idea.

  “I’ll call Mia.”

  “Ash already tried. He assumed you were together but when she didn’t answer and neither did you, he shifted and headed to her place.”

  Thank fuck. I just hoped she was there, locked inside the house.

  “I’ll meet Ash there.”

  “Baker is on the way with a few others from Rhett’s pack.”

  At least we had backup coming. We needed all the help we could get to take down this psycho once and for all.

  I just hoped I got there in time.

  Chapter 15

  Mia

  “You mated with one,” the guy sneered. His tone filled with so much disgust and hatred it made my knees shake.

  I bit down hard on my bottom lip to prevent from making a sound.

  Mated? More questions flooded my mind. All I knew for sure was that I needed to remain hidden. If I didn’t, I had no doubt this guy would kill me.

  As quietly as I could, I snuck backward, bracing myself on the bottom shelf of a workbench. My fingers landed on something long and sharp. A knife?

  “You’re a traitor,” he roared, slamming something hard against the outside of the shed. “Just like your grandmother.”

  I bit my lip again to prevent crying out.

  This creep wasn’t just someone who knew Joan. He was a hunter. Most likely the one who killed her for betraying their disgusting so-called legacy.

  A wolf howled again, the same one as before, closer this time. Another joined the call, coming from the opposite direction.

  Noah’s brothers? Were they coming here?

  I hoped not. If the wolves came, the hunter would slaughter them. He’d kill all of us. Everything Joan did to protect me, to protect the Cole family, would be for nothing.

  I frantically tried to figure a way out of this. A way for all of us to make it out alive.

  My stomach rolled, swishing around until I thought I’d vomit. I couldn’t just hide in the shed all night and do nothing. I needed to help.

  I curled my fingers around the knife. A strange wave of adrenaline coursed through my blood while I familiarized myself with its length and weight. Longer and thicker than a kitchen knife but more jagged with a heavier handle. A knife wasn’t as effective as a shotgun, but let’s face it, I had no experience fighting with either.

  Distracting the hunter bought the wolves valuable time.

  With the knife gripped tight in my hand, I straightened my legs slowly and quietly, peeling myself off the ground. Hunching over at the waist so the hunter didn’t spot me, I snuck around the workbench and halted by the door.

  The rolling in my stomach solidified, forming a massive lead weight. Even with my heart lodged firmly at the base of my throat, the hand clutching the knife remained calm and steady. Was it because of the hunter curse? Was part of me subconsciously prepared and conditioned to fight even though I’d only just discovered my heritage?

  I hoped so.

  I inhaled several slow, deep breaths until my heart rate leveled. The wolves silenced. I guessed they were closer now, stalking through the forest, preparing to strike. I just needed to keep the hunter distracted.

  I could do this.

  I peeked my head around the workbench to spot where the hunter—

  All at once, the hunter lunged at me. Deep orange light erupted inside the shed. A translucent shield flared in the doorway. I screamed, falling on my ass, scurrying backward. The knife skidded across the floor.

  Some badass fighter I was.

  The hunter shrieked, his arm caught between layers of pulsing light in the doorway. The sickening smell of burning flesh made me gag.

  The hunter jerked his arm free from the magical shield.

  “You bitch,” he roared with so much menace it made my bones rattle. “I’ll gut you along with your wolf.”

  Then, as if he’d never been there, the hunter spun and dashed around the side of the shed.

  What. The. Hell?

  How did a magical shield prevent the hunter from entering the shed, but not me?

  A wolf snarled. I climbed onto the workbench to peer out the window, but I couldn’t see a damn thing. How long would the shield last? Would it hurt me? How did it work?

  Gah! I didn’t have time to figure any of that out. I needed to help before the hunter killed the wolf.

  Taunting words echoed through the night coming from the hunter, answered by the snarling wolf. With the hunter distracted, I could sneak out.

  I slid off t
he bench and using the light from the shield, found my knife on the ground beside the workbench. With it once again in my hand, I crept toward the doorway. The light vanished, no longer a magic flesh-burning barrier, returning the shed to complete darkness.

  I inhaled a deep breath, then slid my foot along the floor to the threshold…waited…and slid it past. Nothing happened. Slowly, I reached my arm through the doorway. It didn’t burn me.

  Joan must’ve put a spell on the shed so only she and I could enter.

  With the knife held low and tight, I crept out of the shed, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn’t explode with light. At the edge, I pressed my body flat against the wall and peeked around the corner. At the far end of the yard, just near the forest, a wolf circled the hunter. From this distance and in the dark, I couldn’t tell if the wolf was Noah. But I sensed it wasn’t.

  My gaze darted to the house. I had a clear path to the back door. If I bolted, I could make it inside before the hunter caught me. I could call for help. Who? The sheriff? Did the sheriff know? Was he a shifter or a witch or a hunter? I had no clue.

  Going inside meant abandoning the wolf to fight this battle alone. Joan protected the Coles by never revealing their secret. If I let one of them die because I wasn’t brave enough to help, I’d never forgive myself.

  I glanced back at the wolf and hunter snarling at each other. The wolf lunged, but the hunter was quicker, darting sideways. Midair, the hunter swiped his arm, striking the wolf with a blade. The wolf yelped but landed on all fours, circling the hunter as though the wound barely registered.

  I couldn’t just stand there. Fighting the hunter wasn’t just the wolf’s battle, it was mine. This was my legacy.

  I glanced at the trees nearest to the shed. I could use the forest to sneak up behind the hunter. Just as I turned to run, a second wolf sped around the side of the house gunning for me. My heart stilled.

  Thor.

  He ran so fast I had no time to react. Once at my feet, he growled, pushing me back toward the shed.

  “No.” I shooed him.