by E Hall
I get to my feet, shaking off his threat. It’ll take a lot more than that to scare me or cause me to give up my mate.
My chest heaves as I shift back to physical form. I try to hold on to my wolf, but I’m injured, and it’s easier to heal the wounds this way.
I grip my head in my hands and then scrub my palm down my face. I battle against the voice in my head that tells me to walk away from this madness. Go back to the pack. Life was good, easy then. But I can’t. Not with this threat looming. First, stabbing Kenna. Now, demanding she be his consort. Melchior has fully revealed his true nature. It cannot be ignored.
My energy pulses with rage. I swallow back the frustration at the complications and unknowns.
The fae song filters from the forest.
I remain on the edge, under a curtain of clouds.
The song spikes, igniting my hatred. If this is what it’s like for the spell to lift, let me have at it. I’ve never wanted to destroy something as much as I do now.
Undaunted, I plow forward and back into the forest, all Alpha.
Chapter 7
Kenna
With my arms folded in front of my chest, I pace in the den. “Something is wrong.” I sense a disturbance.
“Yeah, Trigg isn’t here,” Avril says, dropping into a chair.
I throw a sharp eyebrow in her direction, unsure if she’s mad or grateful.
She stacks her hands on the table and meets my gaze. “Thanks, by the way. I had no idea that two-timing, double-crossing—”
Inga cuts her off. “He was cheating?”
Avril nods. “Kenna discovered it on his phone. I can’t believe it. No, I can.” She lowers her eyes and her shoulders drop. “I’m glad to be back.”
“Glad to have you,” I say.
“And I forgive you for the pranks,” Avril says, gazing at me.
I cut her a slim smile. “And I forgive you for going all mean girl on the new girl.”
“New Alpha.” She sucks in her cheeks and lets out a long breath. “Sorry. It was hard for me to adjust.”
“Do better next time,” I say.
She nods, taking the order seriously.
Camilla pulls on a loose thread on her flannel. “Do you also forgive the prank, um, involving your car.”
Avril’s eyes widen. “What did you do to Evo the Empress?”
Inga hunches slightly. “You mean you haven’t been in it lately?”
Avril shakes her head. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“We, um, filled it with toilet paper.” Camilla waves her hands. “Unused, promise.”
I explain how they took the paper off the rolls, left them in the bathroom, and then stuffed the paper in her Evo—the granddaddy prank. “But it’s cool that you name your car. I had to bury Rhonda the Honda on the west coast. But I didn’t realize some of you have your own vehicles. I thought they were communal.”
“We’re not hippies.” Avril’s piercing glints as her nostrils flare. “I suppose I had it coming, but you guys have to clean it out.”
I nod. “Consider it done.”
Baker’s computer pings and he interrupts. “There was another death. Hunter. The woods like before.”
Camilla shivers.
“Corbin left early this morning. Maybe he knew? I don’t know exactly how the fated mate thing works, but something is wrong. Perhaps that’s it. I can’t go on pretending everything is normal while my mind spirals from possibility to eventuality to casualty. He either went to be a hero or—”
“Or he called a summit with the other Alpha Guardians and Warriors,” Baker says, reporting on the meeting Corbin asked for earlier.
“They have to stop this,” Camilla whispers before slouching into a chair.
“We have to stop this before vigilantes or officials are crawling all over our lands. It’ll only be a matter of time before we’re exposed. Remember, I was raised in the human world. I’ve seen enough movies to know what would happen to our kind.” I bite my lip. “My father—” But I don’t know what to say. Never mind a brain dump, it’s like someone dumped the pieces of multiple puzzles on the table. How to sort them? Make sense of them?
Whether it was the sealing ritual or something else within me, I don’t hesitate and tell the pack everything I know, hoping it’ll help me understand.
As I’m speaking, an idea comes to me in the form of a destination on a map. “I’m going to Lonsdale to check something. Never mind the Council summit. You guys, please find Corbin. I’ll be back.”
I pack my backpack with the diary and cloak before dashing out the door. I could shift and run, but want to conserve my energy. Clouds gather in the sky. I hardly notice the autumn trees with their golds and copper highlights as the Jeep eats up the miles on the way to my haunted Victorian manor in Cardington.
As I pull up the driveway, overgrown with weeds, I observe carefully, keeping watch for anything out of place.
After cutting the engine, with two feet on solid ground, I take a deep breath, rooting myself like the pines and birch in the nearby forest.
Even though I only knew my father a short time, his death, if that’s what I can call it, left a hole somewhere in the vicinity of my chest—the place in my heart where comfort, assurance, and warmth replace the fear of the unknown. He was a link to my past, present, and future. Now, he’s gone again.
Footprints lead to the porch, bringing to mind my last time here. The house needs a remodel, but I see potential, though I can’t imagine living anywhere but at the pack Headquarters.
Rough marks in the dirt indicate irregular activity, like the owner of the tracks was limping or otherwise struggling. I recall the battle the last time I was here. The one that took the life of a fae, werewolf, my father, and almost my own. There were goblins, my devious brother, and our pack.
My wolf’s hackles lift. I crouch, getting a closer look. Dried blood. I sniff, recalling my training these last months. For better or worse, I’m no longer vampire so I’m not consumed by thirst.
My mother will have to help me process that at some point. I’m sensing some post-trauma issues brewing.
I rise and pad up the rickety steps. I jiggle the door handle, and it opens easily. Keeping quiet, I stop myself from calling Alister’s name. My wolf scents fae. Clove. After everything he did, perhaps the element of surprise will work in my favor if he’s here.
I go directly to the hallway that leads to the secret room. Instantly, the map canvasing the wall captures my attention. If I were Corbin, where in the world would I be? Several areas are labeled with pack names, fae courts, and vampire clans—known as clubs in modern day.
Magic fills this room, but I don’t sense the scepter or my brother among the many items lining the shelves and surfaces.
I pause in front of the broken mirror. Curling vines etch around the border. I gaze into the glass but only see my reflection—slightly disheveled and windblown. I have my father’s gray eyes. I wish I’d see him. He could tell me what he meant by breaking the curse and more about the truth he sought.
Instead, another man and woman waver in the mirror as though moving through fog. They don’t come into focus, but they’re looking for something.
The man speaks. “We’ll find it.”
The woman’s voice is silent, but her lips move.
I squint, trying to see more clearly, but it’s too hazy.
He says, “It must be hidden.”
I don’t want to turn away from the looking glass, but wonder if whatever they were seeking is in this room.
The couple moves closer. She holds a leather book. I glimpse the back of his head and her face. She has the same gray eyes as my father and me.
This must be one of those fae mirrors Octavius and Olive mentioned.
Turning from the mirror, I scan the spines of the nearby books, working my way from shelf to shelf, all the while wondering if my brother is going to appear.
I slump into a leather chair. My thoughts magnetize to various ite
ms in the room—some hum as though charged with electricity. Others crackle and buzz. I sense emptiness among them too.
Then the sensation intensifies. Before I can get to my feet, magic thunders at me, pinning me down.
Clove appears in the doorway at the same time Alister blows into the room, like blueish fog.
“Sorry, miss. I tried to get here in time to warn you. He’s been tearing the place apart—” A stream of magic narrowly misses the ghost butler.
I don’t know what would happen if it hit him, but he’s loyal to me and I don’t want to find out.
I summon my fae power to the surface, ready to fight fire with fire. A beam of silver light sizzles from my fingertips. Clove dodges and instantly retaliates. A table with a vase on it explodes when I dive out of the way.
My magic glimmers. I’m ready to blow my brother to smithereens, when suddenly, I stop. Clove doesn’t move. It’s like we’re suspended.
Alister brushes his hands together. “That’s more like it.” He presses his shoulders back. “Your father would have none of this. As the caretaker of this estate, I forbid either of you to fight in this room. Go out to the field and have at it. But not in here. This room holds relics and treasures that are more valuable than your little skirmish.”
Clove opens his mouth to speak, but his voice is frozen as well.
In a blink, we’re transported to another part of the house. Sheets cover the furniture as Alister paces in front of a window. I feel like we were caught being naughty and the nanny is gearing up to give us a scolding.
“Long ago, we’d predict the bounty of the harvest based on how quickly the leaves turned and how quickly they fell. It seems that the two of you aren’t the only ones suspended in time.”
I follow Alister’s gaze to the gloomy afternoon outside the window. The forest in the distance still bears green leaves as if it were spring or summer. A breeze ices my skin even though I’m inside. Odd.
“I feel it in my bones that something is amiss.” Alister’s gaze lands on us now.
I want to ask if he has bones, but now is not the time.
The ghost says, “I sense the winds of war. But it can be stopped. It must be stopped. You must stop it.” He eyes us both.
Ever so slowly, Clove’s arms form a barrier in front of his chest. He stares daggers.
Alister shuffles a few papers before folding his ghostly form into a chair. “I will release the hold if you two sort out your differences.”
At that moment, I’m sure the gravity of silence is measurable. Although, I don’t know if I could talk if I tried. Ghost magic is icy, frozen, uncomfortable.
“Your father wouldn’t want this. I was his best friend and confidant.” He looks from Clove to me. “I’m giving you a chance, do you two have business with each other?” The ghost releases our voices, but not our bodies.
When we don’t answer, his ghostly sigh is long and dramatic. He unfolds a piece of paper. “Yes, the house was left to you, Kenna. But it seems the contents were left to all of Greyson’s heirs, his children.”
Then he did know about Clove.
Alister reads an official-sounding document, naming me and then any future children.
Okay, he didn’t, but that must mean he and my mom wanted to have more kids.
“Yes, Greyson was complicated, but I have no doubt had he known you both, he would’ve cared for you deeply. He was a good man, despite his reputation.”
I want to ask questions about the truth he sought, the Klave, and the curse. Instead, I stick my tongue out at Clove. He pulls a face.
“I have work to do and will not tolerate this nonsense.” Alister gets to his feet.
I say, “You can’t leave us here.”
He shrugs.
Clove lets out a string of expletives.
“Talk it out. You’ll remain until you figure out how to play nice,” Alister admonishes.
“No,” we both say at the same time.
“It’s a shame. If you’d work together instead of against each other, you’d get somewhere.” Self-satisfied, he poofs from the room.
“I want to be anywhere but here,” I say.
“Then leave. You weren’t invited,” Clove retorts.
“If it were only that easy. I’m here because I want answers and the scepter.”
“I’ve scoured this place. You’ll find neither.”
“You took the scepter. You know where it is.”
He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
I tuck my chin back. “But I saw you with it. Who has it?” I ask even though I worry he’s bluffing and trying to throw me off the trail.
Clove shrugs. “My question is how are you still alive? I saw Melchior stab you.”
“Thanks for trying to help save your sister,” I say sarcastically, recalling the three star-like bursts of magic flying from the scepter in Clove’s hand and toward the king. Then in a blinding flash, Melchior pivoted and stabbed me.
The scar on my chest twinges.
I realize where Corbin is and what he intends to do.
Chapter 8
Corbin
As I return to the woods, I start to shift, but a tall, slender figure calls my name. His eyes are dark, veined red and his skin is pale.
“Ivan?” I ask, halting the shift. My wolf grumbles. “What are you doing here?” Suspicion laces my voice.
He shrugs in that laid back way of his and leans against the trunk of an oak tree. “You tell me. You’re the one who called the summit.”
In my fury, I forgot I asked Baker to do so. “Right. A man was found dead.”
“I thought you eliminated the werewolf.”
I cut a glare at the woods. “I did, but I think this was fae. The Accords spell is lifting. Melchior stabbed Kenna, killing the vamp within and—”
Ivan nods smoothly as if this is old news. “Just waiting for you to come around.”
I edge close. “Do you know all this or do you not care? Must be easy for you in your ivory tower.”
“Onyx tower, actually, but you had me at Melchior.”
I tilt my head in question.
“He’s been deceiving us.”
“And he wants my mate.” I recall the talk show about the love triangle I heard on the drive west with Kenna. It fills me with disgust and jealousy.
“Didn’t we all want her though? It was a race to get the tri-magical if I’m not mistaken.”
“No, I mean he wants her as consort.”
Ivan’s eyes narrow as if I added another item to his list of grievances against the fae king.
Vampires are many things, including permissive when it comes to dating and couples. However, once a magical finds their fated mate, they’re strict about keeping a hands-off policy. It’s rare for them to find their true mate and therefore held sacred.
“The fae are killing again,” Ivan says. “Outside the bounds of the full moon.”
“I’ve gathered.” I cannot hide the ugly sneer pinching my lips. “Melchior is cold, calculating, and probably behind the downfall of magicals.”
“Not probably, definitely.” Ivan gestures I follow him along the edge of the woods.
I keep my wolf near the surface, prepared to shift at any moment.
“Strange, the leaves haven’t changed or fallen,” Ivan notes as we turn toward an open dirt road that looks like it hasn’t changed in two hundred years.
“Think it could have something to do with the spell?” I ask, referring to the Accords.
“A spell, yes.” Ivan walks silently atop the loose stones and dirt. “It came to my attention that something was amiss some time ago. I was trying to prepare medovik, honey custard cake. My mother used to make it when I was a boy before I was changed. But I couldn’t remember the recipe or...well, anything other than its existence, and that I had a taste for it. But when or why I liked it was lost to me. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but the cake repeatedly crossed my mind. Soon, I became obsessed with it because it was li
ke a page missing from a book.”
I recall our last summit. “I didn’t know vampires had a sweet tooth.”
He shakes his head. “Oh, we don’t. Rather, I was trying to entice a certain fae into our midst.” He winks at me.
“Kenna?” Rage practically shoves me into the vamp.
Ivan erects his vampire shield so I don’t crush him. “You can’t blame me. You were stalking her too. But this thing about the cake—” He shakes his head. “Vampires may not care for sweets, preferring blood instead, but we have deep memories. It was almost like I remembered that I couldn’t remember. Does that make sense?”
“No. Maybe you were thirsty or drunk.”
A small house with a woodpile on the side sits atop a small hill in the distance. I remain alert to my surroundings. Any moment, I imagine Ivan will cast Runes of Power as he did at the hotel during our last summit.
Ivan laughs. “Maybe so. As you said, the spell is lifting. However, I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing.”
My eyes widen. “You’re confident, speaking so boldly.”
“At this point, I don’t think it matters who hears my dissent. The Council has crumbled.”
“Greyson, Kenna’s father, commented on how it felt like his memories were missing. He claims a fae ensorcelled him. At the time I didn’t buy it, but I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Ivan nods as if this is common knowledge. “Jana. Court of Ken and Clover. One of Melchior’s closest consorts.”
“And Kenna’s brother’s mother.”
“Say that three times fast,” Ivan says. “How about you? Any missing memories?”
I shrug, scanning my mind. “How would I know? The period before the Accords is like looking at a blank canvas. But that was to protect us so we wouldn’t be tempted to return to our old ways or look upon other magicals or humans as prey.”
“They’ve always said wolf shifters’ strength is not between the ears.” Ivan chuckles at his dig against wolves.
A low growl echoes from my throat.
We reach the house with a thatched roof, thickly paned windows, and a brass knocker.
