Wolf Shifter Diaries: Loss Hunted (Sweet Paranormal Wolf & Fae Fantasy Romance Series Book 3)

by E Hall

  We pull up at the bakery, but it’s closed. The door is locked. I knock, but no one answers. I rush through the alley and try the back. No one is home. Perhaps Pepper and her grandma are with the police?

  I get back in the Jeep. Corbin brushes his thumb along my jaw, sending a shiver through me. I tell myself now is not the time. He’s just trying to be sweet, but I’m worried for my human friend—not her life, obviously because the fae are only targeting men, but for her mind, her emotions.

  “We should head back.”

  “Wait,” I say.

  Before we go anywhere, I talk about Isa and Alden. “I think we have to trace back farther to what started this. To when the fae became predators.” I shift in my seat to face Corbin. “We have to find Lila. She’s the fae who started this all.”

  “Where? Where would we even start?”

  I smile. “The broken mirror. Let’s go to Lonsdale.”

  Corbin sighs but pulls back onto the road.

  Like tangled pieces of thread, I unwind everything I know so far and it all comes back to the original fae who left the court. She’d fallen in love and gave up her voice and life as she knew it for a human.

  “We’ve established that Melchior is a big jerk bent on vengeance when he doesn’t get his way. He crafted the story that Lila was taken against her will when likely she just wasn’t into being his consort or whatever. I wonder what other lies he’s telling.”

  “Don’t blame me if I kill him before we find out.” Corbin’s words go beyond threat or warning. They’re a promise.

  “Not if I kill him first,” I tease.

  A smile flickers on his lips. A smile I want to kiss.

  When we pull up to Lonsdale, it’s as dreary and haunted-looking as ever. I don’t announce my presence.

  “I’m still mad at Alister for freezing me with his creepy ghost magic. Don’t even get me started on my brother. If he shows his face, I have fae magic on my fingertips, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  Corbin’s eyes dance with amusement.

  Inside, I find the mirror, recalling the couple searching in the fog.

  “Remember what Olive and Octavius said about fae mirrors?” I ask. “Did they say how it works?”

  He shakes his head. “I was in post-sealing-with-my-fated-mate-bliss, so I don’t recall every detail.” He smirks.

  I bite my lip. “Well, last time I said please, I got what I wanted. What the heck. I’ll try it again,” I say, referring to when Alister released me. The butler ghost cannot resist good manners.

  I rub my hands together, warming them up. This house is drafty.

  “Mirror, mirror, um, on the table,” I start, using the words from an old fairytale. “Please reveal the location of Lila if you’re able.”

  Mine and Corbin’s reflections blur. A windswept cottage near a bluff speckled with vegetation that drops to waves crashing against rocks comes into dim focus.

  “I wonder if it listens to me because I’m part fae?”

  “Likely,” Corbin replies. “But be careful. I don’t trust this stuff.” He gestures to the room, but I can’t help fear he means my fae-ness too.

  “Is there a road?” I whisper to the mirror.

  The image zooms out, revealing several other structures and slim roads ribboning across the green ground.

  “Brough by the Sea, Scotland. It’s slightly southeast of here,” Corbin says.

  “How do you know?”

  He grins. “It’s where I grew up. I know that land like I know the back of my hand.”

  Not wasting any time, Corbin charters the private plane and arranges for a car to be waiting for us on the other side. Unlike every time Corbin’s eyes land on me or his hands or his lips, the novelty of flying on the jet has worn off. Slightly. The lavender washcloth calms me and the fizzy water with lemon hones my focus.

  Corbin and I spend the brief flight to northern Scotland reviewing whatever else we know, which isn’t much.

  The North Sea is formidable and forbidding. When we near land, Corbin points out what he calls lochs and glens. The plane touches down outside John O’Groats.

  As we drive east along the winding coastal route toward Brough by the Sea, the afternoon light slants toward dusk. Well into autumn, the days are getting shorter. If I were back home, everyone would rave about their pumpkin spice lattes and gearing up for Thanksgiving.

  I could go for one of those drinks right now. My thoughts float to Pepper and what she must be going through.

  Corbin takes my hand as though he senses the sadness I feel for my friend. For my recent loss, all of ours. I’d like to put a stop to this instantly with the wave of a wand, but this is real life—magic and all.

  A plume of dust envelops the car as we motor down a long, narrow driveway. A weather battered house sits stark and alone atop the barren bluff. The coastline is a rugged lip against the ocean, etched gray with whitecaps and myth.

  We get out and walk slowly toward the door. My nerves jitter at not knowing what to expect.

  Corbin knocks on the wooden door.

  I move to knock, but Corbin indicates I wait.

  “Patience.” In the sealed mate, wolf-way he says, Remember, she’s old. It might take time to get the door.

  After a few more attempts, the wind whipping over the water and the waves shattering against the rocks below the bluff are the only answers.

  “Maybe she’s gone or no longer alive.”

  I slowly turn the door handle. It’s unlocked, but I hesitate. I don’t want to snoop, and I have no idea what we’ll find, or if we’re welcome.

  Corbin presses past me, taking the lead.

  I’m not afraid of ghosts, especially not after hanging out with my father, but the still air in the old house, the creak of the floorboards, and my skin, clinging to my bones, gives the place an eerie feel.

  We creep through the dusty rooms. “Lila was either a mid-century bachelor or the place is a museum, a tribute to days gone by.” The only sign of modern life is in the kitchen where we find a box of tea and kettle.

  At the end of a long hallway, a woodcarving hanging on the door bears the name Tace another says, Briar.

  “She must’ve had children.” I call for Lila again.

  Guilt at snooping makes me jump every time the house shifts. I peer into each of the rooms and get the sense that we shouldn’t be here.

  Corbin grips my hand. We pass through the living room and I bump my shin on the glass top of the coffee table, littered with old National Geographic magazines and a few dated copies of the local newspaper. The glass moves.

  Corbin tries to fix it and pauses. “Doesn’t that look a ship’s chest?” he points to the wooden box that’s the table’s base.

  “Do you still have pirates on your mind?” I ask, referring to Halloween.

  He chuckles softly. “It looks just like one in the secret room back at Lonsdale.”

  I frown. “I didn’t notice.”

  On the top, a crescent moon is etched into the wood. Curiosity getting the better of me, I glance toward the door and down the hall. Assured that we’re alone, I help Corbin slide the glass onto the couch. The lock on the box is part of the metal straps and fasteners. I glance around for a key or something else to pry it open with.

  Corbin goes to the kitchen and returns with a butter knife. He slides it between the lid and base. Sure enough, a little clicking sound unlocks it. At the bottom of the chest is another box with a curling symbol burned into the wood.

  There’s no discernable lid. Instead, the wooden pieces interlock like a puzzle. “It reminds me of a Rubik’s Cube.” I shrug and pass it to Corbin.

  He rocks back on his heels as though considering the small, but impressive feat of engineering in his hands. He turns it over and over. “There must be a piece that slides out first.”

  We take turns trying but don’t make any progress.

  Prickles lift the hair on the back of my neck as minutes pass. The unknowns build on top of one
another, interlocking in what, at first glance, seems like an impossible puzzle to solve. But this cube might have something to do with it.

  As Corbin continues to try to figure it out, I shut the lid of the chest and replace the glass tabletop.

  We close the door to the house, leaving the possibility of answers behind us.

  Corbin tosses me the cube as we get into the car. I glance through the windshield at the broad stretch of sea and sky when a woman with a waterfall of silver-white hair plods up the hill from the other direction.

  Chapter 12

  Corbin

  The woman ambling over the rise wears a light blue robe that matches the ocean on the foggy mornings I remember when I was a boy. Being back here draws strongly on memories from when I was a lad and my friendship with Logan.

  Now that the gap in my memory has been brought to my attention I can’t help question it.

  The confrontation with Melchior on pack lands, the Alpha Call-Out, and Kenna’s fae-wolf magic fusion has kept me on high alert for days.

  Right now is no exception. The woman is almost ethereal, but not ghost-like in the same way that Alister is with his misty outlines of light.

  She halts in front of us.

  “Lila?” Kenna asks.

  She nods. “What brings you here?” Her voice is dry like sandpaper.

  “You can speak?” Kenna asks.

  I recall from the stories that Lila gave up her voice when she left her fae family.

  “Not without great difficulty.” She looks us over, growing fainter. “Should I welcome you or be wary?”

  “I’m Kenna and this is Corbin.”

  Her silver eyes drift over Kenna and then meet mine. They flash. “Wolves.”

  When her glare doesn’t leave me, my lips turn down. “We mean no harm.”

  “Wolves are the greatest enemy of the fae. Yet, she is both.” She returns her attention to Kenna. “If you came here because you want something from me, I have nothing to give. My days of trading in truths are done.” Her voice barely registers above a whisper.

  “Trades?” Kenna asks.

  She peers closely at Kenna. “I sense something familiar about your energy. Yes, your father and you share the dual magic of fae and wolf. He came to me seeking his memories. Those were with Melchior. As for the truth he sought, that he had to make a trade for.”

  “And it was?”

  “I cannot say. It’s between him and the tides.”

  “Did you turn him into a ghost?” Fire flares in Kenna’s eyes.

  “It was his choice to go to the ghost pirates.” The fae’s lips form a thin line.

  I frown.

  Kenna looks toward the ocean. “He’s gone for real now.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” Lila says. “He’d traded one magical form. Melchior destroyed the other. Now he’s just a ghost.”

  Kenna’s expression turns stony as though she doesn’t appreciate the false hope.

  “I thought you lost your magic when you came on land,” I blurt.

  She tips her head back and laughs dryly. “Is that what Melchior told you? That I lost my magic?”

  “The story goes that a huntsman took you against your will. That he stole you from your family. You lost your voice and couldn’t defend yourself.”

  “Oh, I know that part. But Maurice taking me against my will? No, we were in love. I’d do it all over again.” She gazes sadly toward the bluff. As a mortal, he must be long gone.

  “Then you know of the Initiation and the needless deaths.” A hint of accusation enters Kenna’s voice.

  “The magical world is of no concern to me. But you are.”

  Uncertainty crams into the space between my throat and chest, thudding into my stomach and turning into dread. It’s bad enough Melchior wants Kenna. Why is she of interest to Lila?

  A column of light appears from behind a cloud and shines on Kenna.

  The older woman surveys her carefully. “I was like you once, young, in love, and now look where I am, stuck here.”

  “Why are you stuck?” Kenna asks without hesitation.

  “I made a trade. Leave the life of the fae, lose my voice, but remain stuck here forevermore. I didn’t realize that last part until about sixty years ago, and I’m fading.”

  “We’re looking for answers. I want to understand having two kinds of magic, why the fae continue to kill innocents, and what happened to Isa and Alden.” Magic crackles from Kenna’s fingertips, sending sparks into the dirt underfoot.

  Lila’s eyebrows lift. “Come in for some tea.”

  We return to the cottage that’s like a sepia photograph, a step back in time. The three of us sit at a small table by the window.

  Guilt over taking the cube distracts me. Should we give it back?

  Kenna sits tall, stiff, and like she’s on edge. I don’t know if it’s because she’s upset, but her fae magic seems stronger, more on the surface. I brush my hand on her back and then make small, soothing circles as she grips her teacup.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had visitors. In fact, the last one was Greyson.”

  Kenna’s eyes dip at the mention of her father.

  “He wanted two things. One, his memory. Two, the truth.”

  “We want that too.” I flash my first two fingers.

  “And how to stop Melchior.”

  “What you have to understand about the fae king is he has a singular desire. Power.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter why. Most will never understand his motive if they do not yearn for the same thing. He is bent on having control over magicals and humans alike.”

  “Why—?” Kenna echoes.

  Lila shrugs. “He’s deeply insecure. It didn’t start with me, but because I left, Melchior cursed my kind, creating the unseelie fae who lean more toward their shadow.”

  “What did he do with the light?”

  “Prolonged his rule. To remain king for hundreds of years requires cunning and killing,” Lila intones. “But there’s a limit to it. He’s been in power far too long. He needs more lives and more magic to carry on—the scepter is inherently good but can be used to achieve his ends.”

  My jaw drops.

  Lila nods. “That’s also why he wants a maiden queen. He can draw from your power to sustain himself as well. If he fails, I reckon he’ll fade like me.”

  “What about my wolf?” Kenna asks.

  “He wants to destroy it like he did your vamp,” I say in a low voice.

  Kenna inhales sharply.

  Lila doesn’t look surprised. “Melchior took away the belief that fae are good. They’re little more than his servants, taking lives and fueling his existence.”

  “He must have been really mad at you to do that to all fae.”

  “You might say he’s a sore loser and unrelentingly jealous. Melchior chose me as his consort, but I broke my vows as a fae. Now, we all pay the price.”

  “How do you feel about putting your sisters in danger?” Kenna asks boldly.

  “Fae love is different. Not loyal like a wolf.” Lila’s eyes graze over me.

  I say, “Later, Isa did the same, betraying his trust, and awakening his jealousy further.”

  “What happened to Isa and Alden?” Kenna asks.

  Lila swallows thickly. “No one knows what happened to her. As for Alden, cured of the werewolf within, he became an Alpha wolf and a reluctant pack leader—reluctant because he never wanting to be apart from his beloved, a fae. He tried to get them to accept her, but there was fighting among magicals—wolves and fae in particular.” She shakes her head sadly. “He called for a treaty to end the violence. The only way to get the fae king to agree was for Alden to deny Isa. By doing so, he thought he was protecting her and all magicals. Instead, he gave Melchior unchecked power.”

  I lean back, taking all this in, making sense of it.

  “Where is Alden now?”

  “He led the wolves for a time, but with a
broken heart, he eventually went the way of memories. At least that’s my understanding.” Lila gazes sadly toward the sea.

  “Ivan, the vampire Alpha, got his memories back.”

  “Likely grim magic. The only way to regain your history is to break the curse.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  Lila laughs. “I’ve been around a long time and haven’t figured that out.”

  Kenna gets to her feet and paces. “There must be a way.” Fae magic glimmers around her and ripples through her limbs. “Can you help me understand my fae magic? It surges inside, especially around other fae. It’s like we can call upon each other’s power.” She goes on to tell that her wolf fused with it during the Alpha Call-Out fight.

  “A minor glitch in Melchior’s curse.”

  “But I want to learn to use my fae magic.”

  My heart dips because deep down I want her to deny it. I don’t trust it and in a way can relate to Melchior because jealousy spears me at the idea of her joining his court.

  “Fae do not teach magic. It’s instinctual and experiential.” Lila’s shoulders roll back.

  Kenna frowns as though disappointed. “What about the fae song?”

  “Ah, yes, we teach each other those. Except for the cry of the fae, that’s the song that takes the lives on the full moon. That one came from Melchior’s curse.”

  “It’s not only during the full moon,” I say. “There have been daily killings.”

  If the horrific news surprises Lila, she doesn’t show it. “All the more reason to break the curse.”

  “Like I said, how?” Kenna asks.

  “If I knew the answer to that, you wouldn’t be asking me that question. I’ve tried. Your father was onto something though. His mother too. Pick up where they left off. That’s the best I can tell you. For now, I can show you how to use your fae magic.” Her eyes sparkle.

  Kenna smiles. “Really?”

  Lila gestures for my mate to follow her outside. I trail them slowly as they head toward the beach. I sit on a rock and watch the ebb and flow of the tide. Soon, flashes of glimmering light ricochet off the sand and blast stones as old as time.