Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Logan made a gimme motion with his hand.

  “Polina used a positivity potion to try to forget about you.”

  “What the fuck is a positivity potion?” Logan’s body was a lit match. Emotion flared near his middle and fanned out, threatening to consume him.

  “A positivity potion attracts you to the perfect match for you, like a magnet. It doesn’t create love and it doesn’t force the person to love you back, but it leads you to the person with whom you have the greatest potential for true love.”

  “And?”

  “The potion led her here, Logan. I made that potion for her, but when I spoke to you before, I hadn’t realized she used it. Her feelings for you are real. Your feelings are real. They may have been influenced at some point by the soul magic, but they are not anymore.”

  Logan’s brows shot skyward. “Are you fucking with me, Grateful?”

  “I would not fuck with you about this.”

  “The magic doesn’t cause it?” He narrowed his eyes on her.

  Grateful shook her head. “I’ve been a complete ass. I should have spoken to her before I talked with you. I’m so sorry, Logan.”

  He could hardly hear her. Blood pounded in his ears. Part of it was anger, but that part was swiftly overcome by an intense joy that worked its way through him.

  “There’s something else.”

  Inhaling sharply, he turned toward her. “What else could there be?”

  “Do you remember that day at the Red Mound motel in Washington when you helped me by channeling your mother?”

  “I remember that day. I don’t remember what I channeled aside from what you told me.”

  “I remembered something she said to me right at the end. She said, ‘Tell my son he’ll soon be given a choice, and I…”

  “And I what?”

  “She didn’t finish. You woke up.”

  Logan smacked his forehead. “How is that helpful?”

  “If you take just the words, it isn’t, which is why I forgot about it and never told you.”

  “Why are you telling me now?”

  “I had this feeling when she said it. I had a feeling that how it was supposed to end was ‘he’ll be given a choice and I’ll love him no matter what.’”

  Logan shook his head. “What choice? What choice am I supposed to make?”

  “Maybe you’re supposed to be with Polina. Maybe your mom was trying to tell you that after all of her warnings and all of the craziness and swearing off witches… Maybe she was trying to tell you it was okay to choose Polina.”

  There were only a few moments in Logan’s life that he experienced with absolute clarity, from the light in the room to the smell on the air and everything in between. The day he learned his mother died was one. His first day working at his own restaurant was another. And now, this. The smell of chocolate hung in the air over Grateful’s contrite expression across the counter. Bonny purred at his feet. The glow from the full moon spilled over the porch railing and through the window, blending with the light from the kitchen. And Logan admitted he loved Polina.

  He checked that Bonny’s food and water dishes were full and set them on the floor. “Can you let yourself out, Grateful? There’s something I have to do.” He grabbed his keys and was out the door before she had a chance to answer him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Smuggler’s Notch Witch

  Sprinting as fast as she could, Polina screamed as the red wolf accelerated and attacked. His front claws sailed toward her head. Polina plunged her hand into her leather satchel and tossed a pinch of gold dust. She dissolved between his paws, sinking into the mountain and traveling through the layers of minerals below. She emerged on the edge of her realm, near the human campsite.

  Nicodemus, Skogal, and Rohilda heard her unspoken call and landed close by. Nicodemus, the largest of the three, bowed and arched his wings. “The barrier is complete, mistress.”

  “Excellent.”

  Hildegard landed in a branch above their heads, panting hard. “By the goddess, that was close. Why didn’t you strike him down?”

  “Alex is wanted by the werewolf council. I promised Silas I would wait until they had a chance to bring him to justice. Taking out an alpha and leaving thirty pack members in chaos is counterproductive. Besides, he’s trying to find a dangerous talisman on my mountain, and I need to stop him.”

  “What now? Wait for them to get here?”

  “I’ll take the border with Nicodemus. Hildie, you follow the northward wolves. Skogal, go east. Rohilda, west. Don’t interfere unless a human life is at stake. Be prepared to report back to me everything you see. If the wolves find a magical object of any kind, I want to know.”

  Hildegard twisted her body toward the north but kept her head facing Polina. “Take care. An agreement with the werewolf council is far less important than remaining a whole and functioning witch.”

  Polina nodded her head and smiled. “Do not concern yourself. You’ll have your witch at sunrise.”

  Hildegard took to the air without another word.

  The rustle of branches from deep inside the woods indicated the wolves were close. Polina motioned for Nicodemus to take to the sky. With a flick and a muttered incantation, she masked herself from view, and this time, she did not forget to mask her smell, although the stink of wolf repellent potion was probably enough to do it without magic.

  The beast or beasts barreled closer, the sound of panting breath causing her heart to flutter. Aside from the sheer size of a werewolf, their durability made them difficult to incapacitate without finishing the job in the form of killing them or sending them to the hellmouth. Her best bet was to avoid engaging at all if possible.

  The beast broke from the woods. This one had a thick white coat and slightly smaller frame than Alex’s wolf. Perhaps a female? She thought back to the group of four outside the clearing and remembered the woman. She hoped she wouldn’t have to hurt her.

  The white wolf stopped short, sniffing the air in front of Polina’s face. The wolf’s teeth, long and sharp, hovered close to her cheek. Polina held her breath. With a snort, the wolf pawed at her snout and shook her head. The potion was working.

  Come on. Come on, Polina thought. Turn around.

  Finally, the wolf’s giant body pivoted and jogged deeper into the woods. “It worked,” Polina whispered. “The potion is working.”

  Nicodemus made a grunt of approval from his hiding place in the tree above.

  “Come on,” she whispered, following the wolf. “Let’s hope she leads us to what we’re looking for.” And doesn’t kill us first.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Resistance

  Smuggler’s Notch was a two-hour drive from Carlton City, but Logan made it in just over an hour. He sped toward Polina’s realm like the ass of his car was on fire. He had to see her. He had to talk to her about the positivity potion, why she’d kept it a secret. The only way this relationship was going to work was if he cleared the air between them, got everything out in the open.

  He pulled into Smuggler’s Notch State Park and drove as deep into the forest as he could before he parked. A short trail led to the campground she’d mentioned a few times. The place was pretty quiet, but then it was late, past midnight.

  “What you doin’ out here this time a night?” a man said to him. Logan hadn’t noticed him sitting quietly outside his tent in the dark.

  “Out for a walk,” Logan said. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You stayin’ in camp? Thought I’d met everyone here.”

  “I arrived late.” Logan moved toward the woods. Logic suggested that Polina’s home would be up the mountain a ways. There’d have to be a path, wouldn’t there?

  “Don’t wanna go that way,” the man warned. “Ranger says there was a wolf attack in these woods. A girl’s leg was damned near bit off. We’ve all been told never to venture in that direction. I’m not always one to follow the rules, but even at high noon that part of the forest
gives me the heebie-jeebies.” The man pointed down the mountain to a sign at the head of a well-worn trail. “There’s some terrific hiking trails back there. Completely safe.”

  “Thank you.” Logan turned as if to head to the trail then paused. Of course Polina would protect her home and privacy by keeping the humans away. If he wanted to find her, he needed to head in the direction that humans weren’t supposed to go. He made a one-eighty and headed back up the mountain.

  “Hey! Did you hear me, boy? Don’t go that way!” the man called.

  Logan ignored him and pressed on. The man had been right about the foreboding nature of the woods. Everything about the situation told him to hightail it back to his car. It was dark, dreary, and an evil fog seemed to linger over the ferns and plants of the forest floor. His stomach twisted with unease. His heart pounded thinking about what might attack him from the darkness. But worst of all was the smell. The pungent odor reminded him of a mix of outhouse and burned plastic. He covered his nose and breathed through his mouth. It was all an effort to keep him away, along with the other humans, but Logan had enough experience with witches to know he was headed in the right direction.

  He forced his steps forward, foot over foot, deeper into the forest. At one point, the desire to run was so great, he became ill all over a birch tree, but he didn’t turn back. No way. He pointed his body in the direction where he felt the most resistance and kept moving. Finally, as if he’d passed some invisible barrier, the woods changed. The fog dissipated, and a path, although not well worn, appeared before him. He set foot to it and began to climb the mountain, trusting his gut to guide the way.

  The dense woods were dark despite the full moon, and Logan pulled out his phone to use his flashlight app. The beam of light bobbed in the foliage as he progressed, revealing flashes of fallen logs, odd-shaped mushrooms, and the trunks of lichen-covered trees. A rustle came from his left and he twisted to see what it was. His light fell on an opossum that hissed and arched its back at Logan’s interruption.

  “Holy shit, you scared—” Logan was cut off by a set of too-large-to-be-real gray jaws that clamped around the hissing opossum, choked it to the back of its throat, and swallowed it whole. A wolf. A fucking huge wolf, the size of a bear. “Holy shit!”

  Logan sprinted. The thing barreled after him, shouldering through trees and underbrush like a living bulldozer. Hot breath hit his neck. A paw shredded the lower leg of his blue jeans, slicing open his calf. He howled in pain, leaping over a fallen log to escape the wolf’s bite as blood pooled in his shoe.

  He had the sense that the wolf was toying with him. Judging by its sheer size and speed, it might have taken him out moments ago. And then a horrific thought crossed his mind. Maybe this was a werewolf. He’d never seen Silas as a wolf. Could it be him? A member of his pack? Fuck. He didn’t know anything about werewolves. Now that he’d been scratched, would he turn into a wolf?

  The wolf was on him. No way could he outrun this thing. He had to try something else. Dodging behind a tree, he ventured off the path and then stopped abruptly. At first the wolf’s momentum carried it past him, further down the path, but then the beast turned, spotted Logan, and lowered its head. The growl emanating from its throat was threatening and completely unnatural.

  “Easy, big fella.” Logan held out his hands. “Who are you? I have a friend who’s a wolf. His name is Silas. Believe me, I realize you’re having a bad night, but you don’t want to eat me. You’ll feel terrible tomorrow if you do.”

  The wolf stepped closer, stalking Logan with crouched limbs and peeled-back lips.

  “Whoever you are, you’re better than this. Go on. There’s a forest full of snack-sized rodents up there.” He gestured one shaking hand toward the mountain peak.

  The wolf flashed amber eyes.

  “Please.”

  No dice. Teeth and fur pounced. Hundreds of pounds of wolf flattened Logan to the forest floor. Jaws snapped and Logan curled to keep his head out of the bite, but it didn’t help much. The wolf’s razor-sharp teeth sank into his shoulder, impaling his chest and back.

  Logan cried out. The overwhelming feeling that this was the end coursed through him, but as the blood sprayed across his face and his bones snapped, all he could think was that he was unfinished. This was wrong. It was too early. There was more he had to do. He fought and pushed and kicked and even bit the thick fur of the beast. It was no use.

  And then there was a flash of light so bright it drowned out the surrounding woods. Logan saw a tunnel, and at the end of it was Polina. Heaven. This must be heaven. The wolf dissolved off him. The pain faded. And then she was gathering him into her outstretched arms. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what she said. All he could do was smile at his Polina and in her arms go happily to his eternal rest.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Healing Grace

  “No. No. No.” Polina gathered Logan into her arms. His blood smeared the front of her dress. A sickening crunch told her his shoulder was seriously injured. His left arm dangled as if the bones were shattered. Logan was a tall man, muscular, and heavy as a slab of stone, but she needed to get him home and treat his wounds before he bled to death.

  “Don’t you die, you bastard.”

  She dug in her satchel for a pinch of gold dust. There was hardly any left after her escape from Alex. Just enough to carry them both, she hoped. She sprinkled it over her head and focused on Aurorean House. They came apart. He was human and she was exhausted. The process was sluggish and jerky. His composition fought the elemental change, and she begged the goddess that she hadn’t made a serious mistake trying to move him by gold dust in his condition. Ultimately, the dust gave out in her front yard.

  With supernatural effort, she carried him inside, into her room of reflections, her most personal and sacred magical space. The mirrors repositioned themselves to make room for her, and a soft bed was first reflected in them and then physically appeared in front of her. She laid him down, tried to make him comfortable.

  His breath came in tiny sips and his complexion was a frightening shade of gray. It reminded her too much of his condition the first time she’d found him on the side of the road. Fisting his shirt, she tore it from the ugly wound with a resounding rip. Half his chest was a gaping, bloody hole. Shoulder crushed. Lung punctured.

  Healing spells were slow and draining. She was not an accomplished healer. Neither her life, nor her element, had afforded her much opportunity for practice in the art. But by the goddess, she intended to become one if it would heal this man. At the shoulder, the site of the most damage, she pressed the crystal of her wand to his chest and repeated, “Reinchide velecluse moribidatae vialanium.” The chant had no English translation, but in the old language it was a plea for the goddess to rebuild his body from the inside out. She’d used it once before to keep Logan alive. Could she do it again?

  She felt his soul rise to the surface. He was dying, on the cusp of giving up the ghost. “Don’t you dare!” she yelled through tears. With one hand she pressed his spirit back into his body and held it there.

  The bleeding stopped. Unfortunately, as she continued her healing spell, his face took on a worrisome shade of red. He was burning up. Sweat beaded across his forehead.

  Swaying on her feet, she repeated the spell. Bones snapped into place and his shoulder filled from within. Panting, she retracted her wand. She didn’t have much power left, even here with the mirrors focusing her energy. Something was wrong. If anything, he seemed worse. His red face had gone as white as the sheets and his fever had turned to shivering. She took a step back, supporting herself with her hands on her knees. Her eyes scanned Logan’s body from head to foot.

  Fresh blood. His calf was shredded. Gathering herself, she rolled the bleeding leg slightly and parted the shredded jeans. “By the goddess, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.” She touched her wand to the shredded flesh and repeated her incantation. The bleeding stopped. She hoped it was enough. She wouldn’t let h
im die. She couldn’t.

  Up until then, she’d told herself she could live without him. She was prepared to walk away if that’s what he wanted. But the fact that he came here, at night, when he knew the risks, must mean he still cared. And she couldn’t let him go without knowing how he felt. Without knowing why he’d come.

  She stumbled toward one of the mirrors with a singular purpose. The reflection of the box appeared in front of her and then manifested in the space before her. She flipped open the small square to reveal the balm inside and carried it to the bed with shaking hands.

  The caretaker spell was a three-step process. First came the mark, the spell was cast on the host. Second, the trigger, the spell was activated. Third, an element was given, binding the two souls. Polina told herself she would not complete the spell, but compulsively she dipped her finger in the balm, scooped out a generous dose and smeared it over his heart in the shape of a scythe. The spell would bind him to her life force if it came to that. She hoped it wouldn’t. He might never forgive her if it did.

  Exhausted, she stepped back and surveyed her patient. He didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She rolled him on his side and checked his back, ran her hands down each leg. She found no further wounds.

  What was he doing here?

  Thankfully, he was breathing more evenly now, although his skin was still frighteningly pale. Too exhausted to use magic, she removed his bloody clothing by hand. She stumbled, catching herself on the bed. Immortal or not, she was drained.

  She collapsed on the bed next to him and everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Reflections

  Logan woke to a thousand faces staring in his direction. No, a thousand versions of the same face. It took him a minute to realize the swollen, sweaty reflection was his. He tried to sit up but failed miserably. Pain shot through his torso. His head pounded. His mouth went dry as a stone. What the hell was this place?