by Casey Lane
Gen looked to Isa, tone mocking. “Have we?”
Isa shrugged, pretending to think about it. “Tristin did make us watch the first Twilight movie. Remember?”
Gen nodded. “Oh, yeah.”
Isa looked at Alex. “Putting aside their grossly inaccurate depiction of vampires, it wasn’t half bad.”
“Haha,” Alex said with a sneer. “You two are hilarious.”
Gen nudged Alex’s side with her hiking boot. “Stop stalling. Why are Isa’s in-laws like these Corleone people?”
“Because they’re criminals. Cain is the worst of them, but they’re all dirty. It’s just nobody can ever catch them doing anything wrong.”
“Isn’t it possible that’s because they aren’t doing anything wrong?” Gen asked.
“Look, all I know is that Cain Davies lords over several wolf packs in and around Tennessee from a creepy little town at the base of the mountain called Watcher’s Bend and that so many witches have died there that they’ve started calling it Witches’ End.”
“Clever,” Isa quipped, ready to dismiss Alex’s information as witch gossip but Gen’s brows were making a run for her hairline. “Gen! You don’t believe this, do you?”
Gen winced. “I don’t know? Maybe?”
Alex sat all the way up, flipping off the flashlight and cradling it in his lap. “It’s true. They say that town and everybody in it is cursed and given the body count they’ve racked up; I would have to agree.”
Isa pictured Wren’s face and that earnest expression she’d seen just a few hours before. “This sounds like some kind of urban legend. Even if it’s not, if they haven’t taken out three-quarters of the town’s population at once, I’m pretty sure our town still ranks number one on the list of towns you’re most likely to die in.”
“Do you have any specifics or is this all just vague rumors?” Gen asked.
Alex’s temper flared. “I know that Cain Davies had a pet witch for seventeen years. A witch he supposedly fathered a child with, a witch he kept in the house next door to his wife without any regard for his wife’s feelings.”
“That makes him a douchebag, not a crime lord,” Isa said.
“Okay, how about the fact that people who cross him, tend to die of mysterious illnesses, a lot of the ones happening to four of the people in this town?” Alex asked.
“Are you saying that Isa’s betrothed is the reason we’ve got four sick people in our town? Does he have his own pet witch too?” Gen asked.
“Cain’s construction sites are just a front for his other dealings, supernatural artifacts, black-market grimoires, supernatural parts.”
Isa gasped. “You’re claiming that Wren’s father is dealing underground body parts for spell work…to witches? That seems unlikely. It’s not like he needs the money.”
“Listen, his son, Dylan, was some kind of jacked up blood junkie for a long time. It took him over a year to get clean. The family is weird. They adopted a child that they found in the woods and then betrothed her to his eldest son, a future alpha. His mistress died a death gruesome enough to warrant an investigation by the Grove. A death that he let his child take the fall for. If you don’t think all that is enough to convince you that the Davies family is corrupt, consider this, the original heir to the Black Thorne pack died the very same day you're betrothed returned home from his final tour in Afghanistan. Weird timing…huh?”
Isa could feel her wolf clawing its way to the surface as she processed Alex’s words. “Do you know that? Do you really, actually know that? Because those are some pretty hefty allegations to lay at the feet of one pack.”
“One pack? Try one family. The Davies are bad news, Isa. Do you want to expose the kids to somebody who potentially murdered his brother just to be alpha?”
Wren had said he didn’t want to be alpha. Wren was protecting Neoma. Alex had no idea what he was talking about. Isa took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together before she said something she’d regret. Her wolf didn’t like Alex’s accusations. She growled and paced inside Isa, ready to defend a total stranger from a man she’d known her whole life. What was happening to her?
“Who did you hear this from?” Gen asked Alex, rubbing her hand between Isa’s shoulder blades as if she sensed Isa’s wolf’s agitation. “Who specifically told you this?”
Alex’s look was pleading. “I said I can’t tell you that.”
Isa snorted, shaking her head. “Right. You can tell us all these ugly things about the Black Thorne pack, but you can’t tell us who said these horrible things?”
“Journalists refuse to give up their sources all the time, doesn’t make the news any less real, Isa.”
“You’re not a journalist, Alex; you’re a witch. You’re a witch who’s asked Isa out like a thousand times. You’re hardly an unbiased source.” Gen reminded him.
Alex flushed, popping to his feet. “Well, since it seems no evil deer is running amok in the middle of the town square, I’m going to head home. Enjoy your date.”
When he was out of earshot, Gen turned to her. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”
Isa slapped lightly at Gen with both hands, speaking through gritted teeth, “Whose fault is that? Why did you even say anything about the non-date at all? You know how he feels about me.”
Gen slapped back slightly harder. “Because he needed to know. He needs to get over it. Especially with you and Wren all soul bonded and shit. He’s going to find out eventually. If I waited for you to tell him, it would be like you and wolf boy’s ten-year wedding anniversary. Now he can move on to some snotty, witch bitch who will secretly poison him against you until he hates you so much he can barely manage to wave at you from across the street.”
Isa gaped at her friend. “Do you even think about what you say before it comes out of your mouth or are you just as astounded as the rest of us?”
She shrugged. “The latter. If I think about it, it just spoils the surprise for all of us, don’t you think?”
“I seriously don’t know how your wife puts up with you.”
“Because I’m adorable and scrappy.”
Isa rolled her eyes again. “What you are is certifiable and borderline insufferable.”
Gen batted her eyes at her. “And...”
Isa sighed. “And adorable and scrappy.”
“Exactly. Seriously, who wouldn’t love me?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Aww, I love you too. Now, let’s go home before the Jenkins call about a demonic moose or vampire bunnies.”
Chapter Eight
Wren
Day 2
Wren couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. He’d spent the day with Neoma wandering around the town of Wolf Creek, trying to work off some of this energy. Only twenty-four hours had passed since he’d seen her but it felt like a lifetime. His wolf was restless. Now that he’d found Isa, being away from her seemed like the worst kind of torture.
The drive out to Isa’s seemed longer this time, even with their new hotel just outside of Belle Haven, less than a stone’s throw from Isa’s restaurant. While the hotel was better than the last, it wasn’t going to win any awards. It was cleaner than the Caprice and gave them beds to sleep in and a place to shower. That was all Wren required. But, still, he kept their bags in the truck, only bringing what they needed for the night. He couldn’t trust that the protection spell would hold. If they needed to run again, he’d be prepared.
Neoma was quiet on the ride over, that ugly corn husk doll clutched in her right hand as she watched the sun dip low in the sky, painting the sky pink and purple. He didn’t try to talk to her. On some level, she was probably as nervous as he was. It felt like they were auditioning.
Once at Isa’s, he didn’t park in the driveway. Like earlier, he parked his truck down the road behind some trees. Maybe he was overly cautious, but he wouldn’t put Isa and the kids in any more danger than he already had. Especially when she still didn’t fully understand what she
was getting into.
Once out of the truck, Wren smoothed any imaginary wrinkles from his white button down shirt before looking to Neoma. “How do I look?”
She inspected him carefully, eyes narrowed, tongue sticking out of her mouth. Finally, she nodded. “Good, except for your face.”
Wren laughed. “Yeah, well, I can’t help that. It’s the only one I have.”
Neoma stepped back, spreading out the skirt of her white and pink floral dress. “How do I look?”
“Perfect, as always.”
Neoma smiled, cheeks going pink before her smile slipped away. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
Wren frowned, crouching down. “There’s nobody in the world who wouldn’t like you. Why would you say that?”
“I’m different.”
“Listen, munchkin, everybody in Belle Haven is different. In this town, everybody knows magic exists. You don’t have to be afraid.”
She took his hand, and they walked the half mile dirt road that led to Isa’s house. Neoma fell quiet again, as she seemed to contemplate his words. After a few minutes of silence, she stopped short. “What happens if I get scared and something happens?”
Wren didn’t know where all this was coming from. Neoma’s magic was fascinating—he’d once seen her resurrect a dead flower—but hardly notable in a town filled with magical creatures. He wished she would just tell him whatever she was so afraid of.
He crouched down beside her. “Nothing is going to happen, and even if it did, you can’t help that. Isa’s a wolf. She knows what it’s like to be pulled by a force stronger than yourself. We’re tied to the moon’s call.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Besides, it’s you and me, kid. If Isa doesn’t like you, then I don’t like her. We’ll find someplace else. But I don’t see that being a problem. Because you are pretty close to perfect.” A smile split the girl’s face. “Ready?”
She bobbed her head in agreement. They walked the rest of the way in silence while Wren contemplated what he was going to say to Isa. He didn’t know how to tell Isa their story in an hour. When they reached the door, he was no closer to an answer. He was a soldier; he’d improvise.
He knocked and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. The door was wrenched open by the surly boy from the diner, the boy who had almost shifted thinking he needed to protect Isa. There was no doubt the boy and Isa were related, even if the kid was already half a foot taller than his alpha. They shared the same olive complexion, the same dark hair, and green eyes. The same scowl. “What do you want?” he asked, before a low growl rumbled from the boy’s lips, his eyes starting to glow, his teeth elongating. It was all for show. He wanted Wren to recognize his place in the house.
Neoma took a step back, but Wren stood his ground, voice neutral.“Isa invited us for dinner.”
“Well, Isa’s not here. Sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry in the least.
Wren tried not to smile. He was just like this boy at his age, out of control, his body constantly rebelling against him, raised by a Black Thorne pack alpha who still believed all members should settle their disputes physically. It made for a lot of useless posturing, especially with the wolves his age. He decided to let the boy feel he had some control over the situation. “Well, we’ll just wait out here for her, then,” Wren said, eyeing the porch swing.
“Whatever,” the boy said, moving to slam the door in their faces. A small hand caught it, almost losing four fingers in the process. When the door re-opened, the violet-eyed boy from the restaurant stood there. “Kai,” Neoma said, lighting up at the boy’s presence.
“You look pretty,” Kai said before his gaze shifted to Wren. “You should just come in. Isa got called out on patrol, and our usual babysitter had clinic so Isa left Rhys in charge which is stupid because we’d be better with literally anybody else in charge, or nobody at all.”
Given the frustration on the older boy’s face, Wren assumed he was the Rhys to which Kai referred. “You don’t get to invite people into my house,” Rhys snapped.
Wren could see the smaller boy’s irritation and even a bit of fear, but he didn’t back down. “It’s our house, jerk, and I can too. Isa said they were coming over. You’re being rude. She wouldn’t want us to leave guests on the porch. It’s against pack protocol.”
Rhys went from frustrated to furious in seconds, rushing Kai until he was inches from the younger boy’s face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t get to lecture me on protocol; you’re not even a wolf. We don’t invite strangers into our house. He could be a serial killer for all you know. You’re so stupid.”
Kai’s face flushed, jaw clenching. He was clearly afraid, but he didn’t back down. “Oh, is that what your wolf senses are telling you? That he brought a little girl with him to murder us? Sounds to me like you’re the stupid one. Why don’t you go shred some more pillows or shift and pee all over the house since you think you own everything anyway.”
Wren watched the two carefully. He wouldn’t interfere unless he thought Rhys might hurt Kai. It wasn’t his place…yet. The older boy’s chest heaved, his claws extended, snarling in Kai’s face but he didn’t advance, didn’t attack. Beyond the rage and the embarrassment, Rhys was emanating something else entirely. Attraction.
Suddenly, Rhys shoved past Kai, checking him backward with his shoulder. “I hate you. Why did you even have to come here?” he shouted, before pounding up the staircase and slamming a door from somewhere upstairs.
There was an extended moment of silence, and then a giant chunk of plaster fell from the hallway ceiling, landing with a dull thud, bits of drywall scattering in every direction.
Kai looked at the staircase and then the chunk of plaster. “Isa’s going to kill us,” he said, sounding resigned to his fate. “You guys should come in. Maybe she won’t hurt us too bad if there are witnesses.”
Wren couldn’t help but laugh. As they stepped inside, the other little girl came down the stairs. She clearly had reaper blood, as her eyes were the same dark shade of violet as Kai’s. They were mostly likely siblings, given their similarities, same dark hair, tip-tilt eyes and slight builds. The girl placed her hands on her hips, staring at Kai with an entirely too grown up expression on her face. “What did you do to Rhys this time?”
“I didn’t do anything. This is Wren; he brought Neoma,” Kai said as if that was the only reason Wren was there. “This is my twin sister, Tristin. Can Neoma play with us? We are playing Mario Kart upstairs.”
“Sure, do you know when your…Isa…will be home?” He rolled her name over his tongue, liking the taste of it. Eesa. It suited her.
Tristin giggled. “Our Isa. She’s our guardian. She adopted us after our parents died. Well, she adopted Kai and me, Rhys is Isa’s brother. She didn’t adopt Quinn, he just hangs over here all the time and sleeps over a lot because his father doesn’t like him because he’s just a human and not a witch like his sister. Isa got called to go out on patrol. Mrs. Rollins swears she saw pixies in her garden, but Gen says Mrs. Rollins is…,” she narrowed her eyes as if trying to recall the information. “’a might touched.'”
“Oh,” was all Wren could manage, trying to keep up with so much new information. It was a lot to absorb in barely five minutes. “Yes, Neoma, you can go play.” Neoma gave him a nervous glance before following the others. They were long gone when he realized they hadn’t answered his question about when Isa might return.
He didn’t know what to do now that he was alone. He could hear the kids’ laughter and the sounds of the game upstairs; he could hear four steady heartbeats and one racing one. He considered going upstairs to check on him, but it might only embarrass him further.
Instead, he wandered the living room. It looked just that, lived in. The couch was new but worn, probably from being abused by four rambunctious kids. There were two wingback chairs in a floral print that hadn’t been popular in fifty years. There were pictures of the kids on the walls, along with a picture of a mid
dle-aged couple in wedding attire and a black and white photo of a large group of people. There was a water ring on the coffee table and a dent on the wall by the front door that matched the doorknob perfectly.
It felt like a home, but it didn’t feel like a pack. Isa’s parents must have given her some formal training if she had enough experience for patrolling but, really, how much could she have gotten in sixteen years. Was she recruiting new pack members? How could anybody defend a town like Belle Haven alone?
He stepped over the plaster chunk on the floor, looking up at the hole in the ceiling. Even from a distance, he could see the pipes were ancient. The house had good bones, but it was evident just from a casual glance that it needed some serious updating and repairs. The kitchen was an eclectic mix of old and new. The dining room table was a cheap knock off probably bought from a big box store, but the cabinetry was old, handcrafted with a decorative detail that went out of style about the same time as her living room chairs. The dishwasher was new, but the refrigerator was making a noise that sounded like a death rattle. It was only a matter of time before it gave out.
He looked back at the plaster on the floor and then glanced up at the ceiling, with a sigh and then began to open and close doors until he found what he needed. There was a small cabinet built into the side wall where he found a broom and a dustpan. He swept up the mess and located the trashcan, depositing the debris.
Chapter Nine
Neoma
Neoma smoothed her dress across her knees, watching the boys play their game on the large television sitting on top of the beat up wooden cabinet. She’d never played video games before, even though they looked like fun. Cain said television bred laziness and there were always chores to do around the house. Alis never made Neoma do as much as the older girls, though. She put her to work in the garden, which was much more like playing than real work. She also got to cut the herbs and help make dinner and Alis always made sure she had plenty of time to play in the woods. Neoma missed Alis, she missed the garden and her sisters…even though Cain had never really thought of her as a daughter, she’d thought of them as her family, and she’d been happy there…at least until Dylan had come back.
