I poised my purple pen.
And sat there.
As I floundered for what to say, my thoughts again drifted.
Andrew was doing his best for us. He, maybe more than anyone else in my pack, had cared about solving this from the start. I hadn’t even known. He certainly hadn’t acted like that. I’d been seeing so much more of Andrew lately, though. He—also more than anyone—had helped me to understand and work with my pack, to keep things in perspective and offer second opinions.
Now he was trapped downstairs with Jason and Kage, not because he had to be, but because he’d agreed to come along and stay with me and help keep the peace. How much more did he do to keep us moving, unseen and unnoticed? Where would we be, really, without him? Where would I be personally?
Yet I probably knew him the least well of any of them. It was only recently that I’d begun to understand this was how he wanted it.
We don’t want you to see us like this.
No … and he didn’t. The Andrew I knew was the ballroom Andrew. The doorman and the showman. Yes, I’d been seeing more lately, but I doubted he meant that to happen.
The offers to share gossip? Of course he was happy to chat about his pack so we never talked about him. So he never had to think about what he’d been through personally.
I picked up my phone instead of the pen, starting several texts to Andrew only to delete them.
Andrew was the one who deserved this room and space and personal attention. But it wasn’t as if I could offer a trade.
I set down the phone, took up the pen, then switched again.
Finally, I sent: Thank you. For everything you’ve done for us. And for me. You didn’t have to be here.
Pen again. Still no idea what to say to Kage. No … not that. Too much to say. Way too many ideas, scenes and confessions, novels and epics worth of all I needed to say to him. How much I regretted hurting him, how much I owed him, how important he’d been to our pack.
But I sat and sat and could not condense my thoughts. The TV noise vanished. My brain fogged.
The other thing: I couldn’t scry tonight because, if I did it before bed, it would make the nightmares ten times worse and more vivid. Bad enough when I woke up to such things with someone to hold onto. Far more horrifying alone.
Alone. Feeling alone from those you love turning on you, driving you out. A safe place becoming dangerous. A whole heart becoming broken.
Some friendships only last as long as the shine on a penny.
Friendships, maybe.
But wasn’t real love supposed to see all the tarnish, yet still love?
I reached for my phone again to put on Christmas music. Not the cheery kind. The melodious, sweet, sad, beautiful kind. I had a thing about bittersweet holiday music when I was stressed out. Not a single soul in my life knew this about me aside from Melanie. Because there are people we love. And then there are people we love to the ends of the Earth, to hell and back.
I wanted Kage to know I listened to Amy Grant’s “Heirlooms” in the middle of August when I was stressed out and depressed. I wanted him to understand, also, why it was important for me that he knew something like that.
A concept I could not figure out how to put in a card that was five inches wide.
Answering text from Andrew that I hadn’t seen at once because my phone was on Do Not Disturb at this hour.
Lonely?
All it said. Even so, I stared at the one word much longer than needed.
Yes. Want to come up here?
No thanks. There will be bloodshed if I don’t mind the pups right now. You could always come down here.
I’m sure that would improve everyone’s disposition. Sorry. Hope you get some sleep.
While I sat there, listening to “Silent Night,” “Ave Maria,” and “Grown Up Christmas List,” I thought about that.
Again and again, Andrew had wooed, kissed, touched, hinted, invited, then moved away. Sudden standing and walking away from me. Sudden changing subjects or baiting me at times that nothing could come of it, or the setting was inappropriate. From his curling his body around me on the grass over the cliffs in Cornwall, to necking in the castle when he knew Zar was walking up, to the abrupt end of our picnic after one of the best kisses I’d ever had.
Want to come up here?
No thanks.
Honestly, I just wanted to talk, especially wishing I had someone around so I could feel safe about scrying. Not to mention feeling bad about all the times I’d ever shut a figurative door in Andrew’s face.
Yet now I knew. Andrew didn’t want to sleep with me. He never had—no matter what he’d said. This was simply Andrew’s show face: comfort zone.
No one in my pack had ever hinted they found his behavior toward me strange. Constant flirting must be normal Andrew.
So was it Andrew on the inside who had changed? He kept his sanity and comfort zone with his attention to me. But his focus, really, was for the case: for Sarah.
I thought of the photograph, the ring, the figure of a dingo. He hadn’t been a “foreigner” to her. She’d loved him exactly the way he was.
I’d been so presumptuous, thinking how much I’d been getting to know them. That only one or two were more impenetrable mysteries—Jason’s shady reputation, Isaac’s murky past.
Then a wolf had asked me to teach him magic, a grouch had played ball with me, and I spotted a vengeance-seeking monk behind Casanova’s mask.
I went to bed, bringing the card and pen, still thinking, afraid to sleep alone for the nightmares.
When you don’t know what to say, stop and think what actually matters. Nana’s words, telling me how to write thank you cards after my birthday one year.
I thought of the pack, the case, Andrew and Isaac, Jason and Kage, the three brothers who had spent their reunion time talking about looking after me.
I thought of what we had been through and what might lay ahead. I put myself in Kage’s shoes and thought back on our time together.
Then I knew.
I knew what actually mattered.
I turned the light back on and wrote all the way down the card with my purple pen. I sealed it in the envelope and dropped it in the bag with his watch and marzipan.
Then I slept.
There were wolves. They weren’t bleeding. They weren’t dead. They didn’t have their eyes cut out. Nor were they fighting each other. They were howling.
They sang and sang until the mountains echoed with their voices and the moon and stars rejoiced and the wind ran wild as their songs with no stone walls or fences or hedges or roads or buildings or humans to stop them: together, free, and alive.
Even so, I still woke in tears.
Chapter 40
I saw Gabriel for coffee before he left the flat for work. To my amazement, after six years away, he asked me if he was remembering correctly that this was Kage’s birthday. He then arranged with one of his chefs to have a steak lunch and pudding—meaning dessert—sent up here.
“Have them over. It’s much too crowded in their room for such a thing. And, you should know, I have a business dinner this evening and will be away until very late. A key for you. Just ask at the front desk if you need anything.”
I was still trying to thank him while he was hurrying out, buttoning his tailored suit jacket.
I texted Andrew that I was using the morning for my scrying but please bring them up for a surprise birthday lunch. Unless he had any trouble or needed me, then to let me know.
No trouble this morning. Andrew wrote back. Two words: Food TV. Then a thumps up emoji.
Oh, Goddess, he had them glued to the TV, watching cooking or baking shows. Where would we be without you, Andrew?
I sent back a thanks and, smiling, feeling much better about Kage’s birthday, I went to set up shop in my room.
I cast a circle and set out meaningful personal objects around me, sitting on the floor in my room with trancing drumbeats playing on my phone.
What to ask? Where to begin?
The best scrying was specific. I could let my mind wander and find some interesting sights, but I could just about guarantee they wouldn’t help our case.
It took me a long time to trance. Much longer than usual. Even cheered by the image of Kage and Jason watching Jamie Oliver or Chopped—which Melanie had told me was one of the many American shows aired here—I kept finding myself distracted. Thoughts of Kage, how much I wanted things to be right with us, and of the pack and their particular sort of betrayal, and Andrew and what I was pretty sure I’d figured out about him last night, all kept interfering.
Once I cleared my mind of these things, I thought of Gabriel. He didn’t have to help us at all. But this? Above and beyond with free rooms and birthday lunches? That palpable wave of depression clinging to him… The endless hours he worked. The trust he was placing in me, a total stranger. A human caster.
But Gabriel didn’t think like them. He wasn’t afraid of humans. Or of magic?
I owed Kage so many lessons. While missing out on lessons from him in return.
Magic. Focus.
I stood up, shook out my arms, stretched, started the drums over, and this time lay down flat: let go, relaxed, third eye.
Still, it took a while.
At last, I found my questions and started down the path through darkness, asking, Did the Irish wolves take their shifter histories with them to America?
Instantly, I saw the plodding feet in dirty, worn out shoes, patched skirts, frayed canvas trousers, thousands of feet bearing emaciated figures up long gangplanks to board ships bound for the New World.
Along with the sight, a welcome sense of affirmation washed over me.
Who holds the history of shifters now?
Red brick ramblers, tree-lined streets, a cornfield, a single main street town, a New England fishing port.
Wolves scattered across small town America? All holding bits of the past?
Back up. Ask the right questions.
Show me who has answers to happenings of shifters today. Right now. Who understands the shifters?
A campfire, a vast sky of a million stars, elders with copper skin and raven hair talking in a language I could not understand. About the fire stretched and yawned several coyotes.
Are these the shamans?
That same warm sense of affirmation: Yes.
Should we speak to the shamans?
Yes.
How? Show me who can put us in touch with them?
More shamans. Native Americans cooking in cast iron pans, driving battered old pickup trucks into town, sitting on a fence rail and talking, lying on a living room floor, arguing with mom that it was too early for back to school shopping.
Show me who beyond their community can point us toward the shamans.
Nothing.
A phone number, a missing link. Show me how to reach out to them.
Black.
How do we speak to them? Shouting in my own head by then. Show me!
There they were again, roasting marshmallows over the fire, chatting in that unknown language.
A yellow-eyed, long-legged, large-eared coyote sat up on her haunches and howled.
Wolves howled back.
No. There has to be more. Someone there has a phone number. They have normal lives. There has to be another way. I don’t believe there’s no way to reach them.
Bang.
Not an actual noise but a blow that was a mental thing.
I jumped, swore under my breath, and scrambled to sit up.
“I’m sorry, I know. Sorry…” I held my aching head.
There’s no “no” in scrying. No “I don’t believe,” or you deserve whatever six-eyed lavender llama a scry shows you. Scries don’t lie. Sometimes they don’t work. Sometimes you don’t get what you need. Sometimes you can’t understand. But they don’t lie.
I sat with my notebook, sketching and adding notes and staring off into space for the rest of the morning.
I was so long brooding, in fact, I was startled by the knock on the door.
Room service.
Cheered by helping the young man set out our steak lunches—three steak and potato dishes and one steak salad—plus a gorgeous cream trifle in a glass dish, full of fresh fruit and berries and vanilla custard, topped by mountains of whipped cream, I was beaming by the time I gave him a tip and sent him off.
I texted Andrew, then had to wait a few minutes before they arrived.
“She said it was important, mate. Probably wants to tell us about a vision or something.”
“Ten more minutes and we could’ve seen the end of that.”
“I’ll stream it for you. Moon, it’s just telly.”
Kage was scowling as they trooped in, Andrew in the lead, giving me a raised-eyebrow look.
“Sorry, Kage,” I chipped in. “But he’s right. We’ll stream the show for you. And this is important.”
I ushered them to turn the corner at the kitchen and see the dining room, laid for four with our waiting lunches, the great cream centerpiece, and the little gift bag by one of the plates. They were all busy gazing around the room.
Andrew caught sight of the table first, then Kage and Jason as I said, “Happy birthday, Kage.” I rushed on lest his current feelings for me color his view of the arrangements. “This wasn’t my doing. Gabriel remembered and had it sent up for us.”
Still, Kage hesitated, taking in every detail, tense, suspicious. Like a total wolf running into a human smell in a quiet wilderness. Some of this may have been his continued vision problems, but I was pretty sure he could see everything there.
The others wished him happy birthday and Andrew moved forward to pull out chairs.
“He did?” Kage asked. “He didn’t have to do anything. Already keeping us.”
“I know. But I guess he wanted to. Have a seat? Sounds like you had a good morning.”
Jason told me about the TV programs they’d been watching as we all sat, including Kage. Once he got over the first alarm, his expression and stance softened, taking in the steak, bag, and centerpiece anew with a slight smile.
They ate with usual alacrity but took longer over the trifle, one great scoop out at a time onto small plates, then going back for more.
Jason said his gift was at home. Kage didn’t answer. Nor did he open mine there at the table. Still, I was sure he was glad to get the bag and certainly the food. That trifle was probably meant to serve ten or twelve people. By the time I’d finished my peppered steak salad the only reason there was any dessert left for me at all was Jason having set aside a generous serving.
Kage eventually used a spoon and traded in his dessert plate to eat the rest of the creamy mess right out of the serving dish. He even talked a bit to Jason, much more to Andrew, about the food on TV.
“What else do you want to do for your birthday?” I asked as he cleaned out the bowl and I started on my serving. “If anything. A movie? Park? Grocery store? Zoo?”
“Finish the shows.” He licked off his spoon and glanced at my plate. “Maybe supermarket later… A melon?”
“I’m sure we can find a watermelon.” After another bite, I pushed my plate over to him. “And you can all stay up here and watch. There’s an actual couch and space to spread out in the living room.”
“What about Gabriel?” Kage shook his head. “That’s yours.”
“He invited you here. Go on. I had a taste. I don’t need it.”
“You do, you hardly eat,” Kage mumbled. He pushed the plate at me.
I ate another strawberry and custard, then pushed it back and stood up. “Have it. If we’re out for groceries later I’m sure I’ll be eating ice cream or other things I don’t need. I’ll find your channel. What did you have it on?” Glancing around at Andrew as I headed for the living room.
Considering three of the four people involved were experiencing devastating setbacks in their relationships, it was a peaceful afternoon. The day saved by that standby to
lonely souls: cable TV.
I sat with them and my notebook, doodling, thinking, sometimes watching, until they ran out of food programs and took an interest in my work.
I told them about my scry.
“Everything there but no way to reach them.”
“Sure there is,” Kage said. “Clear enough, isn’t it? Just go there and talk to them.”
I sighed. “Kage, that’s the same thing as no way to reach them.”
“Do you even know where they were?” Andrew asked.
“Oh…” I blew out my cheeks. “West? Could have been anything from Montana to northern New Mexico. It wasn’t desert, though. On the whole … I’d say central to north. Colorado? It seemed to me they lived on a reservation.” I tapped my sketch pencil on the notebook cover, gazing unseeing at the muted TV. “We need another angle. I went specifically for the American connection because that’s what we heard from the twins. But I need to back up more. Think about the questions and what I’m scrying for. When I ask for direct images of the killers everything gets muddy. But there are other things to ask. Connections, next steps. More treasure hunt.”
“Why not ask how to stop them instead of how to find them?” Andrew asked.
“Hmm…” I tapped my own chin instead. “It doesn’t work like that. You’re talking about suggestions. I can ask for suggestions in journeying, spiritual travel, if I meet other spirits. But that’s different. The time I scried and met Gavin and the kindred all in one go … nothing like that’s ever happened to me before.”
“Have you scried for what’s killing kindred?” Jason asked.
“And the vampires,” Andrew said. “That’s right. Ever try a different angle with the same question?”
“Good thinking. No, I haven’t. A new approach…”
“Or we could go meet the people those foxes and your magic are already telling us about,” Kage said.
“Sure.” I rubbed my temples. “We’ll all get on a plane and fly to Denver and wander around for a few months visiting reservations.”
“Wouldn’t take long. Once you’re there you’d find them. You can always find stuff.”
“Everything except a killer.” I sighed.
“You don’t need to find a killer,” Jason said. “You just need to find the street that leads to him.”
Moonlight Betrayal: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 5) Page 23
