by Tamar Sloan
Seth’s intake of breath is sharp and hard. “Oh god. It’s happening again.”
“What? What do you mean—again?”
Seth is looking at his hand which is flexing by his side. “My mother.” He stares as he loosens it. “She died the last time the land was for sale.”
“Oh yes. Seth, I’m so sorry.”
He turns to me. “Weres were pretty divided about how to handle it.”
And the implications just levelled-up. Kurt and his determined greed. How will this tie into whatever his master plan is?
Seth cocks his head. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
Is this what leadership feels like? The expectation that you have the answers? Or maybe it’s about giving the sense that you know what to do next. I straighten. “Noah and I are leaving tomorrow to talk to the Weres around the state. It looks like we’re going to have something to discuss.” My eyes widen as an idea strikes me. “Maybe we buy it ourselves.”
Seth glances back at the Inn. A couple is walking out, holding hands, probably heading to the parking lot. I’d say our conversation is about to be over.
He nods slowly. “That’s a truck load of money to raise.” As the couple nears he takes a step forward. “But you and Noah are definitely something else. If anyone can do it, it’s you two.”
Well, I’m something else, that’s for sure. I shove my hand in my pocket, reaching for my cell. “Crap sticks.”
Seth arches a brow. “You’ve spent too much time with Tara.”
I pull out the keys to the silver truck from my pocket. In all the drama I forgot to hand them back. “I still have the keys to the top of the range truck my mother gave me for my birthday.”
“And?”
“I was there to give it back.”
Seth shakes his head. “I’d take the car.”
“What?”
He looks at me like I’m not as smart as he originally thought I was. “It looks like you’re going to need it.”
“I refuse to take anything from her.”
“You’re letting your pride get in the way.”
I don’t bother to hide my frown. “We have a perfectly good truck.”
“Ah, you’re about to trek around the state for who knows how long, for who knows how many miles.”
I cross my arms.
“You’re going to need something reliable.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m not that desperate.” Seth doesn’t realize I’d cycle around the wilds of Wyoming before I take that thing.
Seth’s grin is cocky and he nudges me with his shoulder just like I had earlier. “Plus you could sell it.”
I look at him in surprise.
“Wouldn’t it be the ultimate irony that some of the money you use to buy the Glade from under her nose came from the pimped-up truck?”
I look at the keys in my hand. There’s a part of me that likes that idea. There’s another part that knows we’re going to have to raise a lot of money.
Seth steps toward his vehicle. “Emily and I have another delivery to make. That eagle I brought in is going to a sanctuary. But we’re going to make a stop along the way at the lands office. We need to see what sort of timeframe we have.”
“Great idea. Call me when you find out.”
“We need to fix this, Eden.” Seth pulls open his car door but then stops. His gaze is somber as he looks at me across the space between us. “I believe my mother died for a reason.”
With that, he pulls out and drives away. I stand there, feeling the weight of a whole lot of lives resting on my shoulders. Would they accept my suggestion as easily as Seth has?
This time I do pull out my cell, but it’s not Tara whom I’m texting. What time are you planning on getting home?
Missing me?
I miss you like I miss cheesecake.
Whoa, that’s a lot! Heading back shortly. Gotta pick up the pickles.
Considering they have to get Mama Pecorino’s special pickles from the little deli on the other side of town, he’ll be a little while yet. My fingers hover, but then I quickly type. Ok. See you then.
Everything okay?
At this distance I doubt Noah can sense my agitation. But he picked it up in our few short words. My heart swells and I calm a little. It seems the last Precept was right—it’s together that we develop our strength, because we certainly just conquered some of the awful emotions that burst through when I saw that map. I wrap my hand around the pendant resting on my chest.
It will be. I love you.
I’m not sure if I like reading or hearing those words more…
We’ll test it out when you get back.
Can’t wait. I love you too.
As I head back to my birthday gift truck, I realize I have some time before Noah is back. I glance at my watch. It gives me enough time to pop in and see Dr. Martinez.
Part II
Noah
Chapter Seven
“Exactly how long are you going for?”
Mitch is eyeing off the food and supplies stacked in the back of the truck. The four-person tent was a splurge; there’ve got to be some bonuses to doing what is essentially a Prime Alpha campaign tour.
“This way we can go into the remote areas and know we have everything we need.”
Mitch shrugs as he climbs into the driver’s seat. Great. It’s his turn to pick the music. “Not sure you needed that many cans of vegetable soup is all I’m saying.”
I jump into the passenger side. “Coming from the guy who is about to drive over to Mama Pecorino’s for a jar of pickles.”
That has Mitch’s lips pursing. I can’t help the chuckle as I settle back. I should be home in about an hour or so. Eden and I have practically been inseparable since our Bonding. Being apart for even a short period has my hands twitching to touch her again.
Mama Pecorino’s little delicatessen sits at the edge of town. Most places would go out of business so far from the main shopping area, but not Mama Pecorino’s. Connoisseurs of fine food are willing to travel for her home-grown delicacies. Oh, and pregnant Weres.
We’re almost there when a flash of red hair has me turning in my seat. “Did you see that?”
Mitch slows, glancing over his shoulder. “See what?”
“I think Tara decided she couldn’t wait.”
Mitch frowns. “She didn’t mention anything.”
I crane my neck, but the body which was carrying the distinctive Channon trademark red hair has turned down a side street. “I’m pretty sure that was her.”
“Maybe it was one of her sisters?” Despite the doubt in Mitch’s tone, he checks his rear vision mirror then executes a U turn. Tara’s mother and her siblings have been laying low since Kurt was banished.
“I know she’s short, but there’s still a height difference between ten-year old Christa and Tara.”
Mitch grunts as we come up to the place I saw her. We climb out, but the alleyway is empty.
“She must have gone down there.” I point to the path at the end of the side street. I breathe in the air then glance at Mitch. He’s registered it too. A Were has been here recently.
We follow the faint scent and it heads straight past the building. At the edge of the store the path continues down the back. Tara, or whoever it was, has gone down there.
I can sense Mitch’s unease, and I don’t blame him. This is odd. Really odd.
We keep walking, the Were scent a string our noses are following. Behind the shopfront are Mama Pecorino’s gardens. This is where her famous pickling cucumbers are grown. The fields lie fallow as winter is approaching, a broad expanse of open land. The forest which surrounds any town in this area is not far behind.
It’s at the edge of the trees that we both see it. A head turning, red hair catching in the breeze, before she slips between the trees.
Mitch growls. “That’s not Tara.”
I have to resist the drive to shift. Which means it can only be one person. One person who isn’t
welcome in the Phelan-Channon territory.
We’re both striding forward, boots sinking into the soft swales of soil waiting for spring to let something grow and live again.
My fists clench. “What is she doing here?”
“We’re about to find out.”
We don’t pause at the edge of the trees; her scent is stronger now. Dana isn’t far away.
In fact, we find her several feet in. Dana is standing in the center of a small clearing; big enough that she’s open and obvious, small enough that the trees around still keep it shaded and secluded.
She’s either stupid or desperate to meet us here. I doubt there are two Weres that want her gone more in this world.
We step to the edge of the trees and fury rips through my muscles. The Alpha in me strains to mete out some justice.
“I wouldn’t come any closer.”
Mitch is a live wire of anger beside me. This is the girl who betrayed his mate. “You don’t get a choice.”
We fan out a little, keeping our forward momentum. Dana glances between us. “I’ve come here to talk.”
The need to shift ripples over my skin. “We’re not interested in anything you have to say.”
This is the girl who almost got Eden killed.
Dana steps back, flicking her Channon hair over her shoulder. She probably means for it to be a gesture of arrogance, but my Were sight picks up the tremble in her hands. Good. She should be nervous.
“I have a message.”
“You can tell it to the packs.”
The metallic scent that heralds a shift tingles in the air. Either Mitch is ready to pounce, or Dana is thinking of running. Dana’s eyes flash wide and she steps back. In either scenario she’ll end up our prisoner.
Dana must read our intent because her hands come up, palms out asking us to stop. “If I don’t go back, there will be a war.”
We pause, glancing at each other.
Dana steps forward, reclaiming the small distance she’d lost. “You saw what happened when Dad lost Tara. What do you think will happen if I don’t come back and he loses me too?”
Mitch and I stare at each other. Thank god we’re twins, because we silently agree to see what she has to say…before deciding whether we take her down or not.
I straighten as I turn, reminding Dana exactly who she’s dealing with. “You’ve got two minutes.”
“Stay where you are.”
I don’t know why Dana would think the length of this clearing is enough to keep her safe now that she’s foolishly decided to return, but I’m happy to give her the false sense of security. We hold ourselves where we are, several feet apart, tense and focused.
Mitch’s dark brows are low. “You’re running out of time.”
“Dad knows.”
This is what she’s here to tell us? “Everyone knows about the last Precept.”
Dana rolls her eyes, seeming to gain some confidence. “That Precept only reinforced what we already had planned.”
“Spit it out, Dana.”
“Do you know what it means?”
United we conquer. It seems pretty self-explanatory, but uneasiness is starting to creep over my skin. Kurt’s views have managed to skew things with some pretty bloody dangerous consequences. I wait for the rhetorical question to be answered.
“There’s far more to conquer than we realized, isn’t there, Noah?”
My breath in is slow and measured. This feels like it’s going somewhere I can’t predict.
“Dana, I’m not the Prime Alpha.” Mitch has stepped forward. “No one will be surprised that I attacked you, and I have less people to answer to for the outcome.”
But Dana is obviously feeling cocky, because she barely glances at Mitch. The hazel eyes that are so warm and lively on Tara are cold angry on her younger sister. “He knows.”
I’m trying to piece together the cryptic clues Dana has given me so far. Kurt knows of the last Precept. Kurt, the one who believes Weres should use their strength for power.
I uncross my arms as realization fills my chest. “He’s always wanted to dominate.”
To rule.
A smile sparks at the edge of Dana’s tense lips. “And the last law confirmed what he already knew.”
“You’re wrong.” I’m so angry, I have to consciously unclench my jaw. “He’s wrong. That’s not what the Prime Prophecy is about. We are not here to conquer anyone.”
“Then what exactly are we uniting for, Noah?”
Mitch’s hand slices through the air. “I’d hurry up and get to the point if I were you, Dana.”
Mitch is starting to lose the fight for control. Dana’s questioning, the one vulnerable point no one has voiced, hits a nerve. We’ve never articulated exactly what we’re uniting Weres for.
As I watch Dana stand there, solid in her convictions, steeped in hate and anger, I start to realize exactly what the Prime Alpha is going to have to conquer.
She flicks her hair again, this time jutting her chin up a notch. “We unite to conquer them all.” She stares me straight in the eye as she delivers her next words. “The weak and the fearful, human…and Fae alike.”
It takes all my Alpha training not to let the sucker punch those words deal show. My stomach clenches and my breath vaporizes. What did she just say?
Dana tilts her head. “I told you he knew.”
Oh god. Kurt knows about the Fae. Pride takes second place as I realize I have to ask. “How?”
Dana’s slow smile slices over her face. She knows she has the upper hand right now. “We’ve been watching. Only to discover we weren’t the only ones.”
From the corner of my eye I see Mitch’s fists unclench. He’s realizing we need to hear this.
Dana doesn’t notice, she’s looking nowhere but me. “There was someone else fluttering in the shadows, a moth to Eden’s flame.”
Hearing my mate’s name on Dana’s lips has anger shooting down my nerves, but I ignore it. It’s obvious Dana has a story to tell, and she’s enjoying being center stage.
“It was a man. We figured he was some creep or something because he seemed to know her movements well. He seemed to know her well. But we got close one day, and saw that he looked just like her.”
I should get a bloody acting award for the amount of times I’ve had to contain my surprise. Instead, I let the anger show. “What do you know, Dana?”
“We’ve been following him for a while.” She shrugs. “Including the times he left, which is when we discovered who he was.”
Mitch’s voice is a low growl. “I wouldn’t be jumping to any conclusions if I were you.”
Dana smiles a little. “We didn’t need to.” She looks back at me. “I should’ve known she was more than human. But the daughter of a king? Did not see that one coming.”
I don’t reply. Anyone who didn’t realize Eden was more than average is an idiot.
“But then again, we didn’t know the Fae existed.”
But now they do. That knowledge starts to spark its implications. All of a sudden, we’re dealing with far more than we realized.
I stare at her hard. “You need to stop whatever you have planned, Dana.”
“It’s too late.”
When she moves, I go on high alert, particularly when she delves into the bag on her shoulder and pulls something out. I realize it’s a camera a second before she uses her Were strength to throw it across the small clearing. I catch it, knowing whatever is on it, isn’t good.
“Turn it on and watch.”
I look up at Mitch, who nods. He’ll keep an eye on this traitor while I check out whatever message Kurt has sent us.
I press the power button and the digital screen flickers to life. An image of a bird fills the screen and I realize it’s a video of some sort. I press the triangle on the screen, determination outweighing the dread at what I’m going to find.
The ruby colored bird flits from one branch to another and the image blurs a little as it loses focus then s
harpens again. The bird now dominates the screen, its head sharply turning one way then the other.
“I can’t believe it.” A male voice, infused with wonder, whispers through the speakers.
The bird seems to startle, wings fluttering, darting further into the canopy. Before the camera can focus again it flits off.
“Damn.” The man sounds disappointed, and I’m not sure why I’m watching some bird watcher’s diary.
Until I hear it. The man must too, because the camera swings around, trying to locate the direction the growling is coming from. My instincts, sharpened by years of tracking and honed by my Were senses, tell me the camera just has to move a little more to the left and we’ll see what neither of us is probably ready to take in.
When the camera finds the bear, monopolizing the screen as it rears on its hind legs and roars, I tense. Whoever that guy is, he would have been in serious danger.
He must realize it because two words filter through the speakers. “Oh god.”
When a second round of roaring reaches the speakers my heart sinks. I know exactly what is going to happen. A russet colored wolf barrels at it, teeth bared, his massive body like a battering ram. He collides with the bear, teeth sinking into its furry hide. The bear’s roar is a mixture of fury and pain as it swipes at the wolf.
But Kurt yanks his wolf body away, the bear’s dagger sized claws slashing at nothing but air. Over and over again Kurt attacks, ripping into wherever he hits—chest, vulnerable stomach, exposed wounds. Blood becomes a gory suit for both of them.
The man sucks in a sharp breath and the camera drops. All that fills the screen is spiked grass, but the speakers are full of the fight and pain happening not far away. Roars and growls and violence are the background of what was supposed to be a bird watcher’s scenic home video.
The man groans, gasps, and goes silent.
I press stop, knowing I don’t need to see anymore. Kurt would have known that a human was watching. And recording.
Anger is once again boiling like a cauldron, its tendrils skipping over my skin. It knows what will give it voice, and right now, I’m not sure why I’m not unleashing it.
