by Casey Lane
"Tristin, we believe that you saw the deer."
Isa took a deep breath. "And you think that this deer...this deer that you saw in the woods last night...you think it's the draugen?"
Rhys shook his head. "No, we think it's what the draugen was trying to summon with Neoma’s blood."
“Trying to summon a demon?”
Quinn shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "We think it's a god."
Chapter Thirty-One
Wren
Wren could hear Isa crashing about downstairs, taking her frustrations out on the cabinet doors in the kitchen, but he stayed where he was, sitting on the corner of Isa’s bed. They’d grounded the kids, which was the only way to keep them safe until he and Isa could come up with a plan. In the meantime, Wren sat staring at the phone in his hands, contemplating his next move.
He’d known—from the moment he’d learned of Neoma’s scars—he’d known that somehow his father was behind it all, but he’d never imagined that Cain had conspired with Magna to bind Neoma’s magic, that he’d forced Neoma to lie to him about what she could do. How could Cain have put that responsibility on a child?
He stood, pacing the length of the room. What else was Cain hiding? He always suspected his father’s construction business was just a way to launder money from some of his shadier business practices but he never really thought he’d involve himself in dark magic. Was his father selling body parts and blood on the black market? Was this the family he belonged to? Was he helping Magna even after her death?
He couldn’t take the theories running around in his head. The full moon was tomorrow. Inside, his wolf growled, as agitated as Wren was, maybe more. He needed an outlet for his frustration. Finally, he dialed the only number he knew from memory. His parent’s land line.
His mother answered on the third ring. “Davies residence, who’s callin’.”
His mother always answered the phone like she was their Irish housekeeper not an actual member of the family. It used to amuse him, but now Wren felt like it was a symptom of the disease that was his father, another way for his father to belittle his mother. “Put Cain on the phone,” he said by way of greeting.
There was a startled gasp, and then his mother was gushing, “Oh, Wren, darlin’, We’ve been sick with worry. I knew you’d call. Where are ya?”
“Put Cain on the phone,” he said again, steeling himself against the guilt trip he knew would follow.
There was a pause before she asked, “What’s gotten into you?”
His tone softened, but he didn’t waiver. “I’m not going to ask again, Alis.”
His mother tsked. “Oh, Alis, is it now? I don’t know what you’re about, Wren Rhion, but I’m still your mother,” she said, before slamming the phone down on the counter.
Wren could hear muffled voices and his father’s angry tone followed by a series of scuffling sounds before his father picked up the line. His Cain’s tone was somehow both upbeat and smug. “Oh, well, if it isn’t Wren Davies, gracin’ his family with a phone call. Finally crawlin’ out from under your rock, ya coward?”
The moment Wren heard his father’s voice his fury intensified. “I’m a coward? What does that make you? What kind of man binds a child’s powers and forces her to lie about it her entire life?”
His father snorted. “Her entire life, the girl’s ten years old. Besides, I’m not a man; I’m a wolf. I’m an alpha. Your alpha, boy, and you’ll not be takin’ that tone with me if you ever plan on settin’ foot in this house again.”
Wren clenched his fist, letting his claws bite into the flesh of his palm. “I have no intention of setting foot in your house. I didn’t call because I want to come home, I called because I want you to tell me what it is your hiding about Neoma.”
“I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about, lad,” Cain said, but his tone implied otherwise.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why was Dylan stealing her blood? Did you put him up to it? Is that how he became a blood junkie?”
“’ave you hit your head, boy? Your brother’s problems aren’t my doin’ but I’ll thank you to remember that I don’t answer to you. Everything I do is for the good of the pack.”
“You don’t give a damn about your pack. You care about yourself. About your reputation. You care about power. You ruin everything you touch. I won’t let you ruin Neoma too.”
There was a growl on the other end of the phone. “The next time you speak to me that way, we’ll be settlin’ this like wolves. Is that your intention, boy? Are you challenging me?”
Wren said nothing, chest heaving. He didn’t even know now why he’d called. He was sure now, that his father was at the center of this, but he was also confident Cain would never admit to anything. He was too prideful.
His father laughed. “That’s what I thought.” There was the familiar sound of his father cracking open a beer. “Wren, boy, I know your upset. Our pack has taken some hits. Now, is the time for us to come together as a family. Your ma’s a wreck, and your sisters think ye’ve died. You’re my only son, now. Let’s not fight. You and Neoma need to come home.”
Wren couldn’t help his snort of derision. “I am home. I’ve claimed a mate.”
This time it was his father who went quiet. “What’ve ya done? You defied an order from your alpha. The elders will see this as a challenge. I can’t save ya now.”
“I simply fulfilled my obligation to my original betrothed. I’ve married Isa McGowan.”
His father huffed out a breath then chuckled. “Ya think your smart, don’t ya, boy? The Belladonna pack was decimated six years ago. That gives me claim over you and your new pack. So, as your elder, I’m ordering you to bring me back what’s mine.”
“Neoma was never yours!” Wren growled. “She’s always been mine. I left her with you because I trusted that you’d care for her. I should have known better.”
“You’re all heart and no brains. You best pray that your new bride is smarter than you or she’ll be a widow before your honeymoon. I’ll be seeing you soon enough.”
“You think I’m scared? I’m not running, old man, come and get me.”
There was a loud crash of the phone hitting the cradle and then the call disconnected. Wren chucked his phone onto the bed wanting to smash something. Running was exactly what he needed to do. He pounded on Rhys’s door, and the boy wrenched it open, his expression a strange hybrid of aggravation and terror. “What?”
“Put on something you can run in. Be ready in ten minutes.”
Rhys’s face fell. “But-”
Wren cut him off. “Don’t argue. Just do it.”
Rhys sighed, eyeing Wren warily. “Yes, sir.”
Wren went to his room, changing into his shorts and sneakers. When he made it to the kitchen, Isa gasped like he’d caught her in her underwear. Honestly, what she had on seemed so much weirder. She was wearing yellow gloves and a rubber apron, and she was wielding a bottle of something that looked like antifreeze but smelled like lemons and chloroform. She glanced at his clothes, before going back to her task of aggressively scrubbing the counters.
He gave her a lopsided smile as he snuck closer, looking around cautiously. “Was there a toxic waste spill in here? Should I evacuate the children? Do we need to hire a hazmat team?”
“Hardy-har-har, I married a comedian.”
His heart skipped at her casual use of the word married, and he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss the top of her head, the only part of her not potentially covered in noxious chemicals. “You’re going to scrub a hole through the Formica. Not that these counters couldn’t do with some updating.”
Isa stuck her tongue out before saying, “Don’t judge me. I clean when I’m stressed out.”
“No wonder this place is always spotless.” He gripped her wrists, staying her hand. “It’s going to be okay. They’re all okay.”
Isa made a distressed sound, her throat catching on a dry sob. “They were out there in t
he woods, with that…creature. I could have lost them last night.”
“But you didn’t. They made it home.”
“Barely. They could have been killed. They could have been hurt or killed, and I wouldn’t have even known because we were…” she trailed off.
Wren gave a huge sigh, turning her to face him holding her arms out wide by her wrists to avoid the foul-smelling cleanser on her gloves. He couldn’t help but laugh. She looked ridiculous, like a put-out scarecrow in a chemical disposal plant. “This didn’t happen because we were together. We left them with responsible adults. They are just doing what kids do.”
She scoffed. “What kind of idiot kids go chasing after a blood-sucking monster and accidentally run into a demon?”
“Ours?” Wren said, with a grimace.
Isa leaned her body closer, kissing the place over his heart, over the scar she’d inflicted.
“You talked to your father, huh?” she asked his chest.
He grimaced. “Yes.”
“Feel better?”
He snorted. “No. Not really.”
This time it was her turn to sound faintly amused. “What did you think was going to happen? Did you think he was going to confess all his sins? Admit that he and Magna were hiding some huge secret about who Neoma is?”
“No,” he admitted begrudgingly.
Isa laughed against his chest. “Tell the truth. You just wanted somebody to yell at.”
“Yes.”
“You know he’s probably walking out the door as we speak. What are you going to do when he gets here?”
Wren didn’t want to think about it, but he had no choice. He’d run because he’d known that his only other option was to fight his father. He wasn’t afraid of Cain killing him. Wren knew he could best his father in a fair fight. What he hadn’t been willing to face, was looking his mother in the eye after he made her a widow.
He wasn’t afraid anymore. He would never attack Cain, but he had his own family to protect now and he’d kill anybody that threatened them, including his father. “Whatever I have to do, to get him out of our lives for good.”
“You can’t kill your father, Wren.”
Wren dropped her arms, taking a few steps back so that he could see her face. “That’s up to him. He can’t have Neoma and he can’t have this pack.”
Isa gave a huge sigh. “One crisis at a time. Oggie will be here soon. Gen and Hadley will be back tonight. Let’s take care of the bitch in the corn maze and the deer god in our woods and then we’ll do our best to find a peaceful way to resolve our issues with daddy dearest.”
Rhys plodded down the stairs with the enthusiasm of a death row inmate on his way to the electric chair. “Where are we going?” Rhys asked, wrinkling his nose at the bottle of cleaner in his sister’s hands. “That smells like death.”
Wren clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re going to show me those stones you found in the woods.”
Isa tilted her head back, worry lines forming along her forehead. “Wren…”
Wren sighed. “What? I need to see this witch trap. Besides, if this draugen has been using blood to summon this demon or god, or whatever it is, I think we need to know whose blood she’s using. Don’t you?”
Isa’s shoulders sagged as she gave in. “Yes. I guess so, but be careful, please?”
Wren smacked a loud kiss onto her lips. “I always am.”
Wren and Rhys didn’t go straight to Old Mill Road. He needed to burn off some of this anger before he did something stupid. His wolf was too close to the surface. Besides, he wanted to push Rhys a little, wanted to see if he could tire out his wolf. He was surprised at Rhys’s stamina. He kept up with Wren’s brutal pace without complaint, even passing him a few times, making Wren run harder to catch up.
They were both tired and sweaty when Wren finally let Rhys lead him to the clearing off of Old Mill Road. The stench of blood was enough to make him recoil. There were no other animals for miles. The smell had probably scared them away.
“Is it the same as when you found it a few days ago?”
Rhys shook his head, keeping his distance from the stones. “No. That blood is new. The first day there was hardly any, last night there was more, but it had been there awhile. That blood must have been put there last night.”
Wren squatted next to the circle, leaning in. He picked up one of the dolls, holding it to his nose. The scent of smoke and ash was almost enough to overpower the blood soaked into the wood. Almost. He scraped at the doll, trying to remove some of the soot.
“Whatever you do, please don’t put that in your mouth,” Rhys begged.
Wren frowned at him. “Why would I do that?”
Rhys shrugged. “Ask Tristin. Is it witch blood? Human?”
“It’s not human. She’s probably siphoning blood from the witches. It’s why they’re getting sicker.”
Wren stood, dropping the doll back in the pit before taking a deep breath, wiping his brow with the hem bottom of his t-shirt. There was no trace of the scent he’d caught the other night. “Let’s head back. I think this is a dead end.” Rhys turned on his heel, but then Wren stopped him. “Hey, you haven’t said much about your sister and me…” Wren trailed off unsure of how to phrase his question.
“…getting werewolf married?” Rhys finished. “What’s there to say. It’s already done.”
Wren knew the boy wanted to drop the subject. Wren understood. He didn’t want to have the conversation either. It was awkward. But there were things he needed Rhys to know, things Rhys needed to hear. He needed to know that Wren didn’t have any hidden motives. “I love your sister. You know that, right?”
Rhys gave a stilted nod, before he fell silent, kicking at a pine cone with the toe of his sneaker. “Does this make you the alpha now?”
What was it with the people in this family and their trust issues? “No. Your sister is still alpha.”
“Oh, okay.”
Wren frowned, unable to miss Rhys’s baffling disappointment. The boy had fought him at every turn, had told him in a million different ways he wasn’t welcome. Why would he be disappointed that his sister would remain alpha? Understanding dawned, then. While Rhys claimed he didn’t want Wren as his alpha, Wren had treated Rhys as the pack’s left hand and campaigned to get Isa to acknowledge him as such. Finally, Rhys said, “Your sister loves you, you know?
Rhys just shrugged, picking at invisible lint on his black t-shirt.
“Seriously. She worries about you all the time. I know it comes across as nagging or disappointment, but it’s because she’s not very good at expressing her feelings.” He looked pointedly at Rhys. “Like somebody else I know.”
Rhys’s face flushed. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”
Wren put a hand on Rhys’s shoulder. “Look at me.” Rhys did, though begrudgingly. “You will be the pack’s left hand one day, Rhys.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rhys said. “Can we head back now. This place gives me the creeps.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Isa
Isa scraped off her gloves and removed her apron, taking one last look around. Once satisfied she’d scrubbed everything, she placed her supplies back in the cabinet in the hall. She glanced at the clock for the tenth time, trying not to contemplate why Rhys and Wren still hadn’t returned. She shouldn’t have let them go back out there. It was too dangerous.
A door slammed above her and then Kai and Quinn were pounding down the stairs, wide-eyed and panting. She snagged each of them by the collar as they attempted to fly past her. “Hey, no running. What’s gotten into you two?”
“Uh, there’s a Viking in our driveway,” Kai said.
Isa blinked at the two boys. “What?”
“There’s a giant Viking in our driveway,” Quinn said louder in case Isa’s hearing was suddenly failing.
Kai nodded. “He looks like Hagrid. Can we go see him?”
Isa frowned at them. “No. You stay here.”
Once outside, she stopped
short at the bottom of the front steps, shielding her eyes from the sun as she took in the sight before her. Whatever thoughts she’d had about Wren’s bear shifter friend did not do the man justice. She couldn’t help but stare. The boys were right. He did look like Hagrid. He had to be seven feet tall, and everything about him was broad, from his shoulders to his jaw. The man was enormous.
She could see why the boys thought he was a Viking. He had long ginger hair that was graying at the temples and a fiery red beard that he’d decorated with two braids and various colored beads. He wore cream colored hiking boots, green Army pants and a utility jacket that looked better suited for a winter camping trip than a summer day in Florida.
Isa gave a small wave as he trudged towards her, a huge smile splitting his face. When he was close enough, she could see he had bright blue eyes, a broad nose, and a ruddy complexion. Isa liked him instantly. “Oggie?”
He gave a loud booming laugh. “Aye. You must be Isa?” The gravel in his voice matched his size, but not necessarily his personality. “You’re just as pretty as I thought you’d be, and tiny as a kitten to boot.”
Isa frowned. She had no idea what to say to that assessment, so she just said, “Thank you.”
She held out her hand, but he swept her up into a hug that would have crushed any human.
“Woah. They look just like when the giant ape picks up the woman in King-Kong. Remember?” She heard Kai say from behind her.
Quinn laughed. “Totally.”
Thankfully, Oggie set her back on her feet, turning his attention to the boys. “And who might you be?”
Kai pointed to himself. “I might be Kai, and he might be Quinn.”
The bear gave another booming laugh. “Well, nice to meet you, boys. I’m Oggie.”
“What’s an Oggie?” Quinn asked.
* * *
“Yeah, what are you?” Kai asked, sounding awed.
Isa groaned. What was she going to do with him? “Kai, how many times have I told you that you can’t just ask people what they are?”
