by E Hall
Abruptly, Ivan presses his pointer finger to his lips for me to be quiet. He goes still. “We’re not alone,” he whispers.
I sense her seconds before I see her.
Kenna’s head appears and then the rest of her body as she lowers the hood of the red cloak.
I gape, inhaling her scent with deep relief. Then I sling my arms around her. “What are you doing here?” For a moment I worry because I didn’t sense her, but it must have been the cloak acting like a fig.
“What am I doing here? Finding out that my fated mate is out for fae blood.”
“That would be Ivan, he’s the vampire,” I say, trying to make a joke before I drop the bomb. I grip her arms. For a second, I fear I’m seeing an apparition in the falling mist. “Melchior wants to claim you as consort.”
Her eyes flash. “I have a say in who I consort with. Whatever that means.” She wheels on me. “Also, coming here alone was dumb. You’re trying to do everything yourself when you need to work with me, your Alpha.”
“The nature of the Alpha is to lead the pack.”
“The nature of our situation with two Alphas means you partner with me.”
I can’t argue with her.
“Oh, and Avril is off probation. Trigg lost his privileges and is on probation.”
“What? Why? What happened? I’ve been gone for less than twelve hours.”
“Sometimes it takes a female wolf to do a man’s job.” She sniffs.
“I like her,” Ivan says. “A woman who knows her mind.”
Kenna gazes at him and then takes a subtle step back.
Ivan holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite, and I won’t argue. I know your mother well.”
“And my father?”
“My opinion of him is changing,” Ivan says measuredly.
“Is that a good thing?” Kenna asks.
He nods. “Nice cloak, by the way. I’m guessing our man Melchior will be here in three, two, one,” Ivan counts down. He throws the cloak over Kenna’s head. She disappears.
Not a second after he says the word one, I shift.
Even though I can’t see my fated mate, with her so close, my power draws on hers and vice versa. It’s like we share our magic. However, her fae energy is strong right now.
Melchior stalks toward us through the trees ribboned with fog. “She was here. I sensed her.”
“So you admit you want Magical’s Most Wanted,” Ivan says.
“Of course. As a Council member, I must destroy her.”
“Don’t play games with me, fae,” Ivan hisses. “Corbin told me you seek her as consort. Your aims are the same as ever.”
The fae king laughs. “You know nothing of my desires.” He circles us in long strides. “I’m merely indulging my nature. It’s not my fault the Klave help lift the spell. It’s not my problem Greyson was foolish and gave up his life for a lie.”
Kenna’s hood flies off. Fury streaks her features. “What are you talking about?”
“Just the girl I was looking for,” Melchior purrs.
Her wolf growls loud enough for the entire forest to hear.
“Feisty. I like it.”
“I don’t like you. What do you know of my father and the trade he made?”
“He wanted his memories back. What he saw ruined him. Shame, he was a powerful magical.”
“He was ensorcelled by Jana under your orders no doubt. The things he did weren’t his will,” Kenna says in defense of Greyson.
“Oh, don’t be mad, Kenna. I’m not the monster you think I am.”
Her gaze lifts slowly to his. The corner of her mouth quirks. Her nostrils flare. “No, but I am.”
Energy surges through my mate’s arms, legs, and her entire being. She glows like a star about to explode. As she shoves the magic at Melchior, the world turns white.
Then falls to black.
It’s like I’m running blindly through the night. However, my feet don’t touch the ground.
Then I’m floating.
Then I’m out.
I don’t know how much time passes before I come to. The world is hazy and my body aches again.
“The first time can be a doozy. Do people use that expression anymore? I try to keep up on things, but the older I get the more it all blends together.”
“How old are you?” That’s Kenna’s voice.
“Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask a vampire that?”
“I know little about vampires.”
“I suppose the reason you tolerated the leap is because your body remembers when you were a vamp otherwise I’d have two unconscious magicals on my hands.”
Ivan and Kenna’s conversation comes to me as if in a dream.
After rubbing my eyes, I push to sitting. “What happened?” My voice rasps.
Ivan comes into focus. He thumbs Kenna. “Your mate just went atomic on the fae king.”
Kenna suppresses a smile. “He tried to kill me. I figured he had it coming. Oh, and he wants to claim me? I don’t think so, buddy.”
“Before we were talking about the leap, you were saying about Lonsdale?” Ivan asks. “I haven’t been there in ages.”
“Dusty...and spooky. Alister, the butler ghost, stunned Clove and me with some spectral magic. He was trying to get us to make up.”
“How’d you break those bonds? Ghost magic is intense.”
“I said please.” Kenna’s lips quirk. “And I tapped into my dual-magical powers like I did outside that cottage and Melchior came a-calling. When I was at Lonsdale, it was like Clove’s presence gave me a boost. And when I blasted Melchior, your wolf helped,” Kenna says to me. “Tell me more about the leap though.”
“Vampire magic. We can move fast...and at times if we focus, we can accelerate what would ordinarily be a rapid run to cross time and space.” He gestures to the hotel room. The familiar buildings of Intherness fill the window.
“Whoa. Except for the thirst for blood, I’d like my vamp power back.”
Ivan chuckles.
“So you remember life before the Accords?” Kenna asks.
“With no thanks to Melchior. But I got my memories back. Wasn’t easy. Wasn’t pretty. But a vampire’s memory is powerful. The will even more so.”
“And?” I ask.
“And the fae king has been a bad, bad boy.” Ivan laughs darkly.
“Is he lifting the curse?” Kenna asks.
“No, he created the curse,” Ivan answers.
Kenna and I both lean in. “What do you mean?” we say together.
“That’s what your father was trying to figure out. How, why, and what to do to break it.”
Kenna gasps. “He told me to break it.”
“I thought the Klave was the enemy,” I say.
“Have you been following anything I’ve been saying, young wolf?” Ivan says.
“I prefer to be called Alpha wolf.”
Ivan snorts. “Okay, Mr. Alpha Wolf. Here is what I remember, and what I’ve pieced together. Greyson was a bit of a playboy. Then he met Jacqueline, a vampire of incomparable beauty, strength, and intelligence. They fell in love. Of course, it was forbidden, but technically so was he. We all are in this human world. Then she and the baby, Kenna, had to go into hiding. The Accords were created, along with the Council.”
She nods, hanging on his every word, urging him to go on.
I feel like I was about to say something and then it flew away. I peer out the window, wishing it would come back.
Ivan smiles, revealing his sharp teeth. “You’re trying to remember, Corbin. That happened to me one too many times. I did something about it. So did Greyson, but when he got back his memories, he realized he’d been tricked. He and his family wouldn’t get their happily ever after, so Greyson dedicated his life to trying to save all magicals.”
I square my jaw. “But that’s not true, he destroyed magicals.”
“He was ensorcelled. But during a lucid moment, Greyson created the Klav
e.”
“A rebel group who we’ve been trying to expose.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, wondering where this is going.
Ivan smiles like a cat who ate a canary which wouldn’t be out of the question since he is a vampire. “No. The Klave isn’t a group of people. It’s an object. A history of magicals that contains the truth. It has the power to break the curse. But you’ll need the scepter. Without it, there’s a power vacuum to fill.”
“How do you know? Why did we think the Klave was a rebel group?” I ask.
“Melchior’s influence runs broad and deep,” Ivan says.
I nod as vague understanding filters to me. “As for the scepter, it’ll bring balance and peace to magicals. But if in the wrong hands, it can cause destruction and death.” I clap my hands. “Easy, Clove has it.”
Kenna shakes her head. “No, he doesn’t.”
Chapter 9
Kenna
The next weeks pass like paper days falling from a calendar. The ghost of the conversation with Corbin and Ivan hangs in the air like fine mist.
From locals and the news, they report several more deaths of hunters. The woods aren’t safe—because of the fae and the authorities trying to solve the crime. As Alpha, Corbin’s failure to protect humans weighs heavily.
As it is, there’s nothing we can do. We’ve scoured Lonsdale for the scepter, asked a mage to remove any magic concealing it, and have called Melchior out, but his response was the death of one of the police officers investigating. At least we think so given the fact that he was found the same way as the others.
The fae are out of control. Does that mean the spell of the Accords has lifted? Or like me, do fae exist outside it?
And the sound of their song inside my mind makes me feel like I could spin out of control. It’s a lure, drawing me to them.
I hold firm in my wolf, not wanting to betray the pack, but in my darkest moments, I fear that I could if I’m not careful.
The pack, including me, still patrols the foothills of the Montmartres Mountains. I’m in wolf form, trotting along the trail winding around the lake. On the breeze, below the squawking of crows, I hear the song again.
I stop in my tracks.
Maybe it’s just a dismal memory. The setting sun sparkles off the water of the lake. I never gave much thought to magic or how I’m supposed to define this dual life of mine. I wish I had my father to talk to.
My mother has been busy, but I’ve tried to reach her a few times. While she’s supportive, it’s not the same as getting the insight of someone who’s lived in this kind of tension.
Am I a monster like I said to Melchior? What will happen when the spell lifts? I don’t want to think about what lurks inside of me, what I might be capable of if I lose myself.
Sometimes I feel like if I let down my guard or forget to be vigilant, the fae in me will take over.
I hold my breath at the crunch of dry dirt underfoot. It can’t be my father. He’s not even a ghost anymore. He’s gone. As I turn, I wonder what it would’ve been like to stand by his side, have his hand to clasp when I was young, and an understanding ear to listen carefully as I got older.
I imagine he’d hold me steady and help me make sense of it all. I’m confident he wouldn’t brush me off as being crazy.
Instead, it’s Corbin, my fated mate. He’s my anchor and without him, especially now, I fear that I’ll drift.
We communicate in the wolf-way, sharing updates on our patrol.
At least there hasn’t been a death today, I say.
Not yet. Corbin’s snout angles toward the sky. The sun sets as the moon rises. It’s full.
I remember now that it’s Halloween and a full moon. The pack celebrates with a Halloween-Harvest fest combo. I’ve gathered that some among the pack remain in physical form, dress up and do the traditional activities. Others shift, howl at the moon, and run all night.
I tell Corbin about a few of my favorite childhood costumes, including a princess, a witch, and one year, Little Red Riding Hood. Ironic, the most dangerous thing in the woods is me, I say.
I’d give that award to the fae, he replies.
I turn my wolf eyes on him. Corbin, I am fae.
He dips his muzzle at the reminder.
I don’t blame you. It’s easy to forget because I lean heavily toward my wolf. But the fae is still inside, singing, tempting, teasing me with her power. I never forget. Just one more thing. Don’t ever run off and try to confront the fae king without me. I will hunt you both down if I have to.
His whiskers twitch. Promise. Now, come on, let’s finish our patrol and get ready for tonight. I have a surprise for you, he says, nudging my shoulder, and then takes off running.
One thing I cannot resist is my mate, and I don’t want to. We sweep across the trails. I keep my senses alert in case there’s trouble, but also enjoy the wind in my fur as I race alongside him, reveling in the exhilaration and acceleration of existing in this wolf body.
Later, back at the lodge, I shift back to physical form. The scents of sweets and savories from the kitchen elicit a deep rumble from my stomach.
“Save your appetite. Tonight’s treats are amazing,” Camilla says, breezing by and wearing half of a mermaid costume with a shimmering tank top, her long hair in loose waves, and a crown made of seashells. “What are you dressing as?” she asks.
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
Corbin grins. “Lucky for you, I have.” He winks.
“Will I find my costume in my room?”
“I hope you like it,” he says and saunters off, whistling.
“Was that a sea shanty?” Camilla asks. “Because if so, I never expected our Alpha to go along with this year’s theme.” She claps her hands together in triumph.
I’ve been so preoccupied with other things that I didn’t realize there was a theme.
At my questioning look, Camilla says, “The ocean is our theme so think sea monsters, pirates, and mermaids.” She does a little curtsey.
“Let’s just hope Corbin didn’t want me to dress as a sea hag.”
Camilla laughs. “Even if you went as one, I don’t think that would dull his attraction. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s head over heels. See you soon,” Camilla says when a subordinate asks her how much nutmeg for pumpkin pie.
I can hardly suppress my grin about the prospect of pie and her comment about Corbin. Even though tension has been high among magicals, our affection for each other has only grown since we sealed as fated mates.
After a quick shower, I find my costume, consisting of a brown leather corset that goes over a frilly white top, and a tight black skirt. A few bandanas tied strategically along with a tricorn cap complete the outfit.
I turn in the mirror but need a finishing touch. Using my eyeliner, I draw a scar across my cheek. “There, perfect,” I whisper. I’ve been talking to myself a lot lately, mostly because in the silence, I hear that dreaded singing like a stain in my mind.
My bedroom door opens and Corbin stands there with an eyepatch over his eye, an outfit similar to mine but with britches. He draws a sword. “Another move and ye walk the plank!”
I cross the room, defying orders. Corbin’s eyes crinkle as though reminded of what it was like to smile—considering things that have been going on, it’s been a while.
“Hey, scallywag,” I say.
“Ye be friend or foe?” he asks, remaining in character.
I tap my chin. “Hmm. You tell me.” I loop my arms around his neck, drawing his six-foot-four frame down to my five-foot-four height. He’s still tan from the summer. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his lips quirk with amusement.
My mouth is a breath away as my gaze hovers on his full lips—the ones that have told me he loves me. The ones I cannot keep myself from kissing.
Tingles rush through me like a game of hopscotch. My lips, my chest, my stomach.
With his free hand, Corbin’s rough palm grips the scar-free side of my face then drops to
my neck before dragging through my hair.
My breath falters as he tugs me closer.
His breath alternates between deep and shallow, deep and shallow.
The crackling between us isn’t like magic, it is magic and sparks anew every time we’re together. If I ever have time to inquire about the nature of being fated and sealed mates, I’d like to understand this phenomenon.
When Corbin deepens the kiss, my thoughts fly out of my mind. Maybe I don’t have to understand. Just enjoy it while it lasts.
When we part, he says, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my fine lady.” His voice is husky. He bows slightly.
Looking at him through long lashes, I keep up the role play. “The pleasure is mine, you swarthy buccaneer.”
He chuckles. “At least we’re not at risk of catching scurvy, but you are missing something yellow that’s not a lemon.”
And there I thought my costume was perfect. I fish my engagement ring out of the wooden box Corbin gifted me to keep it in. I don’t wear it often because I shift so much and wouldn’t want to lose it.
He takes it from my hand and slides it on my finger. A jolt rushes through me. “Now, your outfit is perfect.”
“And so are you.” My face tints pink. “Did you hear me say that out loud?”
“I hear everything.” He winks.
Hopefully not the singing that haunts me.
He juts his elbow out. “This is my first time dressing up for the annual party.”
I lace my arm through his. “Then let’s make it memorable.”
The wolf pack loves a good bonfire and tonight is no exception. Even from a distance, the blaze lights up the clearing. Half the pack is already down here and the pumping music overflows from the party.
When we get closer, Corbin leaps forward, drawing his sword once more. “Aargh, are you ready for some high seas adventure!?”
I didn’t notice at first, because of all the sparkly mermaid costumes, but Baker stands there with his sword drawn. “Aye,” he says enthusiastically.
The pair parry, and I wander over to the betas. I get numerous compliments on my costume but hope no one challenges me to a sword fight. I’m still learning during the weapons drills in the mornings.
