“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder, and Savannah could see he looked nervous. “Look, I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in. I was just passing through; I didn’t expect anyone to be up here.”
“’Passing through?’” Savannah eyed him. Blond hair, hazel eyes, he wore a black leather jacket, dark T-shirt, blue jeans, and motorcycle boots. Looks like a punk, she thought. Probably some white boy from the northern suburbs trying to hang with the brothers on the south side. “Who are you running from?” she asked. “Are you in trouble with the law?” A part of her wanted to reach for her athame again, but something told her that this man posed no threat to her and – for whatever reason – he might actually be in need of her help. Still, she had to err on the side of caution. “I don’t know what you did, but maybe you should just keep moving before I call the police.”
“You don’t need to do that,” he said quickly. “I’ll go.” He spared her another quick glance, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Savannah could not deny the fear she saw there, but before she could say anything more, the stranger looked around before heading back through the potted hedges.
“Uh, you can always use the stairs!” Savannah called after him, cringing as he pushed through the greenery. She sighed and muttered under her breath. “Idiot. Could have gone around them.” The screech of tires from the street drew her attention. Curious, she walked over to the edge of the roof. The light wind lifted her hair; she reached up to brush it from her eyes as she peered over the edge at the commotion below. Out in front of the restaurant, she saw a high-end sedan stopped in the middle of the road. Two men stood beside it, one leaning down to talk to the driver while the other scanned the area. After a moment, the men climbed inside the car and it took off. “What the hell is going on?” Savannah wondered aloud. Were those guys after the one who had crashed her ritual? Okay, maybe he’s not linked to the local gangbangers, she thought, but he was definitely on the run. Al Capone might be long dead but it was well known that the Mafia still existed in Chicagoland. If he got himself mixed up with that crowd, he’d be smart to keep running.
She turned back to her altar and sighed. The ritual was a bust. She considered starting over but it was late and she had already expended a lot of energy which left her feeling exhausted on top of being disappointed. “Guess I’ll just have to try again next month,” she muttered, and began blowing out the candles. Gathering up her Book of Shadows, her wand and her athame, she made her way back to the stairs leading down to her apartment. She would get the rest in the morning. As an afterthought, she locked the door behind her, just in case the stranger decided to come back. Daddy always said you can never be too careful, she thought. If that guy needed her help, he could always knock. Whoever he was, I hope I never see him again. He had ‘trouble’ written all over him. Daddy would have also said something about her penchant for helping every stray that turned up on her doorstep, even the ones who interrupted her rituals. Savannah had to shake her head at herself. And he’d be right.
“Fuck it,” she said, “I need some ice cream.”
Chapter Six
After his encounter with the lady on the terrace, Justin could feel his heart pounding and his lungs burning from the almost non-stop running. He made a jump to another building but with exhaustion catching up to him, he misjudged the distance and just managed to catch hold of the ledge. For a moment, he dangled there, his pulse racing from more than just physical exertion. He glanced down at the dark alley floor ten stories below and gulped. Mustering the last of his strength, he hauled himself up and over, grunting with the effort. He sprawled there for a moment while he caught his breath. Staring up at the moon, he listened intently for the sounds of anyone following him.
He had managed to stay down-wind of his pursuers. Now, as he whiffed the air, he found his sense of smell overwhelmed by the musty odor of bird – more precisely, pigeons. He looked around and saw an old coop nestled against the bulkhead. Justin gained his feet and headed for the abandoned structure. He paused at a skylight to peer down through dirty, broken glass. He could hear no movement, no sign of life whatsoever, inside the rundown building. Checking the door to the stairs, he found it locked. He considered prying it open but decided he would be safer hiding out up here. The overpowering stink of pigeon – while old – would mess up any werewolf’s sense of smell and provide the perfect camouflage for a fugitive seeking a few hours of refuge. He ducked down into the coop, grimacing at the petrified droppings and feathers. Any port in a storm, he thought, as he found a corner and huddled into it.
He had to find a way to get out of the city without drawing any unwanted attention. The Betas would be prowling the bus and train stations, and even the airports, looking for him. And where will you go? The word is going to spread to all the other Clans. You’re not only Rogue, they think you’re a killer. There won’t be a single Pack that will take you in. He grimaced. How long could he run before someone caught up to him? The Council had the power to issue the command to kill on sight.
I wish I could remember what happened, Justin thought. He ran both hands through his short, dark blond hair and groaned. One thought kept running through his head. Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye, but I never would have killed him – there’s not enough booze in the world to get me drunk enough to do something like that! He closed his eyes and tried to remember the video they had played at his trial. Everyone had agreed without a doubt that Justin had been the figure seen going to his father’s study. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t see his face. Your clothes were covered with your father’s blood, he reminded himself. You had blood on your face, on your hands, in your hair… He shook his head, refusing to believe he could be anything but innocent. There has to be a way to prove it. Maybe there’s something in Dad’s study…but good luck getting back in there to look.
He hugged his knees to his chest and bowed his head. Sorrow welled up inside him and he had to bite his lip to hold back the sob that struggled to work its way up from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut but hot tears still managed to escape, tracking down his cheeks. All I wanted to do was to show him I could be a good leader, an Alpha he could be proud of. His father may have stopped believing in him, but that hadn’t stopped Justin from admiring him. In spite of their strained relationship, Justin had always looked up to Randall.
He tilted his head back and gazed out through the rusty chicken wire covering one of the coop’s windows, watching clouds slip across the face of the moon. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he choked out. The shock and confusion began to give way to grief, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Justin allowed himself to mourn. He curled in upon himself, hands gripping his shoulders, and wept quietly in that filthy, cramped space. Drained emotionally and physically, he soon drifted off into a sleep plagued by disturbing dreams.
Chapter Seven
Because the restaurant didn’t open until noon on Sundays, Savannah slept in and didn’t wake until after nine in the morning. She got up, dressed, put on a pot of coffee, and made breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. With Halloween fast approaching, she decided she would use the rest of the morning to put up some festive decorations in the café.
She pulled on her favorite wool blanket coat and headed up to the roof to collect the rest of her ceremonial items that she had left in her ritual space the night before. The cloudless sky was a breathtaking shade of blue and the sun felt warm on her face. She found herself wondering what happened to the stranger. The feeling that she should have offered to help him began to creep back in. He was scared. He could have attacked you, but he didn’t. Savannah cursed under her breath. “Don’t go there,” she told herself out loud. “You’re always a sucker for a hard-luck case. If he’s in trouble with a bad crowd, the last thing you need is to bring that darkness to your door!”
As she used her broom to sweep away the ring of salt, Savannah noticed a flicker of gold amidst the branches
of the potted hedges. Frowning, she walked over and reached in, carefully extracting a round pendant attached to a chain. Probably belongs to that guy, she thought, remembering how he got tangled in the bushes as he fumbled through them. She turned the medallion over in her palm and saw the sigil of a wolf standing on its hind legs, and a banner with some words in a language she did not recognize. It looked old, like an heirloom. Depending on how important it is to him, he might come back for it as soon as he realizes it’s missing, she thought.
She considered leaving it on the roof where he could find it. She also considered turning it over to the police. Finally, she decided to ask the spirits what she should do. A little divination goes a long way. Her grandmother had taught her about psychometry and how to use it to tell a person’s fortune and get a bit of understanding about their character, specifically in regards to any secrets they might be hiding. Savannah would practice with some of the customers who would come into the restaurant while her dad was still alive; they’d give her their keys, rings, or wristwatches and she would tell them about their lives and what the future held in store. She got pretty good at it, too.
Setting her broom aside, Savannah wiped her hands on her jeans and walked over to sit down on the old wood bench next to her now-dormant herb garden. Her eyes slipped shut and she opened her mind to receive any images that might be connected to the pendant, something that could give her insight about its owner. “Come on,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”
From the swirling shadows she saw a burst of red, gushing like a fountain. She caught a glimpse of a woman with golden hair lying on a floor. The image changed and she saw an older man slumped in a chair. The disturbing pictures made her flinch and frown. Suddenly, she saw a pair of glowing eyes, bright as gold coins, and then the flash of sharp white teeth. Savannah gasped. She jumped up off the bench, startled, and bumped into the altar hard enough to jostle it. “Oh, shit!” she yelped, when the earthenware bowls representing the element of Water rocked, its contents sloshing over the rim. The liquid splashed onto the white altar cloth, staining it a deep purple. Savannah frowned in confusion. “What the heck?” Last night, as she had prepared for the ritual, she had filled that bowl with clear water. “It changed color,” she mumbled. She blinked, and her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit – it changed color.”
Which could only mean one thing.
The spell had worked.
Racing back down the stairs into the apartment, Savannah grabbed her wand and returned to the roof. She still clutched the necklace in her now sweaty palm as she centered her thoughts and waved the wand over the altar. “Spirits of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,” she called out. “Show me my Familiar. Let it present itself to me, now.”
She waited. Looking around, she scanned the sky, wondering if it would come in the form of a bird – like a crow or a raven, or even a hawk. Then it occurred to her that the animal might be on the ground below. Eagerly, she hurried over to the edge of the roof and peered down, searching the alley below, the sidewalk, the parking area in back, and the street out front. No stray cats, no stray dogs…not even a rat appeared. She frowned. But it worked. The spell found my Familiar. She held out her arms and looked around in frustration. “So where is it?”
No sooner had those words left her lips when she heard a thump, and the scrape of footsteps on the roof behind her. Savannah turned and her eyes widened when she saw the mysterious stranger from last night. This time, he had come around the end of the potted shrubberies instead of crashing through them. “You’re back,” she said, and then chided herself inwardly for stating the obvious. “I thought you’d be long gone, by now.”
“So did I,” he muttered. In broad daylight she could see he looked rough, the shadow of a beard on his jaw and upper lip. His hazel eyes looked heavy and red-rimmed from exhaustion. “I was sound asleep a few minutes ago, and then all of a sudden I just woke up and felt like I had to come back here.”
Right after I called for my Familiar. Savannah frowned, her momentary confusion quickly shifting to suspicion. That’s weird… She jerked her chin at him. “What’s your name?”
“Justin,” he said. “What’s yours?”
“Savannah.” Remembering the medallion, she opened her hand and showed it to him. “I thought you might come back when you realized you were missing this.”
That seemed to light a fire under him. He gasped, one hand shooting up to his throat to feel around frantically. That told Savannah he had not even realized until now that he had lost the pendant. “I need that,” he said, and she could hear a hint of panic in his rough baritone voice. He licked his lips and moved toward her, forcing Savannah to retreat a step. He tried to approach again and she avoided him. He seemed to get the message because he stopped and held up his hands. “I’m not gonna hurt you, lady,” he croaked. “Just give me the necklace, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I’ll give it back,” Savannah assured him, “but you need to answer a few questions, first.” She eyed him. “Who was after you last night, and why were they chasing you?”
Justin sighed. “It’s complicated,” he said. He held out his hand. “Can I have the necklace, now, please?”
Ignoring his plea, Savannah stroked her thumb across the medallion’s etched surface. “I took Heraldry as an elective in college as part of my History major,” she said. “I know a family crest when I see one, but I don’t recognize this. I can’t even figure out the language written on it.” She looked up at him. “What does it say?”
He seemed to hesitate before replying, “It’s Welsh. It means ’Wolf and Man, Together.’”
“’Wolf and Man?’” Savannah’s brows knit together. He didn’t know the necklace was missing. She looked at the altar. But he said he suddenly felt compelled to return. Her gaze returned to the medallion, and the image of the wolf. Wolf…and Man. Her heart skipped a beat as a crazy thought crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. No. It’s not possible – not in this day and age. Not here in Chicago, of all places. She peered up at Justin. Well, there’s only one way to find out…
“Here,” she said, dropping the pendant into his outstretched hand. In getting close enough to return the piece of jewelry, she caught a whiff of his clothes. “Whew!” She wrinkled her nose, recoiling. “Why do you smell like bird shit?”
“Because I spent the night in pigeon coop, thank you very much,” he snapped. He secured the chain around his neck again and tucked the pendant inside his shirt collar. “Well, it’s been great chatting with you but I’ve really gotta get going…”
Savannah nodded. “Sure.” She watched him head for the edge of the roof. Surreptitiously, she reached for her wand and tapped three times on the altar. “Bring my Familiar to me,” she whispered.
Suddenly, Justin jerked away from the ledge, as though pulled by some invisible force. He turned around, looking like he expected to see Savannah right behind him, only to blink in surprise when he saw her standing several feet away. “What’s going on, here?” he demanded. “Did you just yank me back?”
“I was nowhere near you,” she replied honestly.
“Bullshit. I felt you pull me.”
“Uh, you want to watch your tone,” Savannah warned him. “I said I didn’t touch you, so you can just cool your temper, right now.”
His frustration showed no sign of receding, however. “Well, if you didn’t pull me back, what the hell just happened?”
“You tell me,” she murmured. Stepping out from behind the altar, wand still in hand, Savannah began to circle him slowly. “Last night, I was in the middle of a ceremony to summon a Familiar – an animal companion – when you showed up. A few minutes ago, I called for the Familiar to come to me…and you showed up, again.” She pointed to the ritual space. “Just now, when I issued another summons, suddenly you couldn’t leave.” She looked up into his eyes. “’Wolf and Man, Together,’ huh?”
Justin glanced away, and she could see the uncertainty playing across his haggard f
eatures. At last, he snorted and shook his head. “Okay, you got me,” he replied. He met her gaze again. “I’m a werewolf.”
Chapter Eight
Whenever Justin had envisioned the moment he would reveal himself to someone outside his race – namely, a Human – he could think of various ways as to how it would play out. First, and probably because of his father, he expected shock, fear, and rejection – after all, Werewolves were the stuff of horror stories, monsters in the eyes of Humans. But as he told his dad, the times they were a-changing, and now they could see their kind depicted as heroes in books, television shows, and feature films. Humans had begun to view Werewolves in a positive light, at least as fictional characters, so maybe they might be a little more receptive to embracing them as a real species.
But in all the scenarios he could have imagined, having to come out to a Human who had somehow managed to bind him to her with Magic had never crossed his mind. “Let me get this straight,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggled to keep his frustration under control. “You’re telling me you cast a spell on me?”
“I didn’t cast it on you,” Savannah said, sounding equally irritated by this unexpected revelation. “I was expecting a bird or a cat. Not a ga’damn werewolf.” She shook her head, springy black curls bouncing against her shoulders. “The spell must have latched onto your animal half. That’s all I can figure.”
“Well, can’t you undo it?” he demanded.
“Magic isn’t like a word processor,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t just punch in a command to ‘undo’ something. I don’t even know if there is a way to dismiss a Familiar after bonding.”
“Whoa,” Justin said, holding up both hands. He gestured between them. “There was no ‘bonding.’ We didn’t ‘bond.’”
Bonded to the Alpha Wolf: Paranormal Bad Boy Werewolf Interracial BBW BWWM Witch Romance Page 5
