by Patti Larsen
“May I take this home with me?” I see her hesitation before she grins.
“Sorry, old habits.” She takes it from me, tapping it on her free hand. “I’ll have a copy made right away.”
“Along with anything else you might have,” I say.
Femke laughs with a rueful grin. “How well you know us,” she says.
“The weres,” I say. “Roman and Viveca. Did your Enforcer find how they traveled?”
Femke’s grim headshake answers me before her words do. “Covered their tracks,” she says. “Very well. Too well.”
“The Dumonts,” I say. “I know they are connected to this somehow.”
“If so,” Femke says, grim and dark, “I’ll find out how and make sure they stop.”
She leaves me there to ponder the body. The smell doesn’t bother me as much as it did, the cloying heaviness lifting as I cross my arms over my chest and frown at the dead man’s face. So many questions, though I’m even more certain the Dumonts have to be involved.
A shiver of worry strikes deep inside me. Sorcery. Could it be our old enemies have woken? Unlike Syd, I don’t believe the Brotherhood are gone. They are like cockroaches, hiding in the shadows, building their numbers. I never agreed with Eva Southway’s willingness to allow their broken number to join the Steam Union after Syd defeated Liander Belaisle.
It’s been years since his fall and subsequent disappearance. Could it be he’s readying his next move against us?
I take a deep sniff of the body, trying to taste the sorcery, but it’s no use. It’s as black and dark as ever, a hollow, hungry feeling I retreat from. I can’t identify the difference between users. It could be Piers’s sorcery for all I can tell.
Which makes me think of him and my guilt rises fresh. But it also gives me an idea. Maybe he can differentiate? If we can identify the specific sorcerer, he and his people might be able to track him or her down and put an end to this.
I’m about to reach for Piers when I feel his mind touch mine.
Charlotte. He sounds tired, distant.
Piers. I offer him my power, something I rarely do. He sips of it, his sorcery tasting me, but he does it gently, pulling away long before I can feel the effects of the drain. I’m sorry, I can’t find him.
My mind is on the sorcerer responsible and I’m about to ask Piers how he knew I was looking when a beloved face flashes in my mind.
Sage. My heart stops a beat, air leaving my lungs in a rush of fear. Didn’t he get off the train?
Piers feels like he’s moving. There’s no sign of him in Kiev. I’m sorry. I’m back tracking to see if he got off earlier, but I’m on stop number five and there’s no hint of him.
I’m coming to you. I spin and head for the door as Piers’s mental voice hisses.
Never mind, he sends. Found him. But he’s not here. I see an image of a hostel room, Sage’s belongings in one corner. I recognize his backpack immediately. His trace feels old.
Where are you? I’m on the elevator, pressing the buttons in haste. How am I going to get to Piers?
Milia. Piers sounds irritated. Looks like he got off one stop after you left him on the train. I can feel his opinion of Sage going downhill. Guy obviously doesn’t take hints well.
I can’t muster anger against Piers, not while my worry for Sage grows with each passing moment. The doors to the elevator finally open and I nearly crash into Femke as I rush forward. She catches me with a breathless laugh, handing me two heavy files, her head tilting in curious worry as I point to my temple and mouth “Piers.”
Keep looking, I send. I’ll be right there. I pause, eyes locked on Femke’s worried blues. She doesn’t ask, just waits for me to say something, looking young and casual in her t-shirt and jeans. She’s not the Council leader I expected, more like Syd. And I’m happy that’s the case.
“I have to go to—”
I don’t get to finish my request. Oleksander’s mighty mind reaches across the miles and slams into mine. I gasp and Femke catches me as I steel myself against my grandfather’s heavy fury.
What is it? My hands tremble despite my resolve as he roars in my head.
COME HOME IMMEDIATELY.
I shiver, Femke’s eyes wide. She’s heard him, too. It’s taken tremendous effort for him to reach me, let alone shout across the distance. I draw a deep breath.
“Sounds like trouble.” Femke hesitates, clearly wanting to offer help. But whatever has my grandfather in a rage is werenation business or he would have asked her for assistance. And I can’t push him any further.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Just need a ride home, if you don’t mind?”
Femke quickly summons an Enforcer and Finlay answers the call. I wave to her, the two files clutched to my chest as the blue fire carries me away from Oxford. I step out of Finlay’s power and onto the lawn of the palace, turning to thank him for the ride, but he’s already disappearing.
Nervous as to what I’m about to face, hating not having any information and worried for my grandfather, I hurry inside. The gathered werewolves stare at me, glare even, my own people as I rush past them and to the throne room.
What has happened to make them so angry? My heart beings to pound louder and louder, a black tunnel forming in my peripheral vision, breath hard to catch. I focus on my grandfather, sitting on his throne, staring at me as I enter and stride the carpet of the central aisle to join him.
A glance to my left as I near the dais reveals a grinning Caine. He seems even more amused than ever, though the rest of the assembly rumbles with fury. I stop at the foot of the stairs and face Oleksander. His cheeks are bright red, eyes bulging, fists gripping the arms of his throne as though to pull it apart.
“Bring him forward!” My grandfather’s booming voice makes me flinch. What the hell is going on?
It doesn’t take long for a familiar scent to reach me, and horror to grow with the fluttering of my panicked heart. I turn to find Andre Dumont approaching, his sons dragging a struggling form between them. They are under orders not to return here. Why hasn’t my grandfather ordered them killed?
“Our pleasure to deliver the damaged one to you,” Andre says in his smooth voice. “Who knows how much evil he could have spread had we not caught him.”
I stare, open mouthed and trembling, as their captive raises his head. Sage stares back, cheeks pink, panting softly.
But it’s the blood oozing from the bite on his shoulder that catches my attention, holds it, even as my heart finally dies in my chest.
***
Chapter Thirty
I’m not certain who summoned them, but the air around me bursts with blue fire, Enforcers flooding the throne room. I feel Femke’s magic in the forefront, her worry for me fired with anger. When I look up from Sage’s pain-filled face, I see Gwendolyn and Finlay hovering next to Maks and have my answer. My friend has made sure I won’t stand here alone.
Isabelle has also come, the darkness allowing the vampires to join us, but I don’t have time for Sunny and Sebastian, or for anyone but Sage. He holds himself rigid in the hands of the Dumont brothers, his eyes never leaving mine, though I can tell from the flashes of agony on his face the bite causes him great pain. I need to go to him, to protect and heal him if I can, while my logical wolf tells me such a thing isn’t possible, I’m far too late to save him. But the urge is overpowering and only the weight of my grandfather’s disapproval holds me in place, still pressing the files Femke gave me to my chest.
“What is the meaning of this?” Oleksander surges from his throne, rage now aimed at Femke. “You were not summoned here, Council Leader, nor were the vampires.”
Femke isn’t one to start a fight, her mild nature more diplomatic. But she’s full-on angry herself, and as her magic crackles around her in blue flames, I feel my grandfather back down slightly.
“This issue affects us all,” she says, voice cold, her ice-queen persona back again. I should resent her need to protect me, but instead I welcome it,
if only to keep Sage safe for a few minutes longer. I know what’s coming for him and I’m helpless to stop it.
“Council Leader Svennson is correct.” Sunny lends her own coldness to the conversation. Frank has come with her, his handsome face worried under his shock of blond hair. He reminds me of Syd suddenly and I hatch a desperate plan in my mind to save Sage if I can.
Darkness erupts, Piers appearing next to me, one hand protectively gripping my elbow as the tunnel seals behind him. His grim expression tells me he regrets what’s to come, but won’t help me. No one will. What Sage is becoming is against the law.
I hope I’m wrong. There’s one person who might take my side, though I hate to drag her into this.
“Perhaps someone should examine the young man before we jump to any conclusions?” Sebastian’s smooth voice cuts through my desperation.
Oleksander shakes with anger, but he nods once, eyes on Piers. “If you think it necessary,” he says. Could my grandfather want to help after all? I can’t allow hope, not while they are all intent on writing Sage off completely.
Piers leaves my side, crosses to Andre and the boys. Caine’s smirk doesn’t lessen. If anything, it only increases. He has something to do with this. For all I know, he’s the one who bit Sage in the first place.
He winks at me the moment the thought crosses my mind.
And my heart. Stops.
He did it. He bit Sage. And he wants me to know it.
Which leads me to the obvious belief Caine and his pack are the source of the revenants now plaguing Eastern Europe. But why? If they are revenants themselves, if they are successful versions of new werewolves, why are they still experimenting?
Maybe they can’t make more themselves. My mind is spinning with possibilities, anything but my need to focus on the danger Sage is in. Piers lays a hand on Sage’s arm, his right, while Jean Marc scowls at the young sorcerer. I see my friend’s shoulders sag slightly as his dark magic slips around Sage. My love gapes at me over Piers’s shoulder, obviously aware of the magic if unable to see it himself. I know he must be full of questions, but I credit him for holding his tongue while Piers examines him.
Blond hair shivers down his back, his greatcoat swinging at his feet as Piers turns away from Sage. His gray eyes slip across mine with sympathy before he looks up to meet Oleksander’s waiting gaze.
“He’s infected.” Those two words, spoken so softly, start the beginnings of a whining wail deep inside me. I clutch at the paperwork in my arms, needing something to hold onto as Piers steps away, coming to my side again. He tries to touch me, but I finally move, dodging out of his reach while Caine laughs out loud at the sigh that carries from all the weres in the room.
There was no doubt Sage is infected. But hearing the words spoken seal his doom.
“There is little question here who is responsible.” I sway as Andre speaks up. Could he actually turn in his own pack? Or does he have other plans? It’s possible I’m wrong, that Andre and Caine aren’t working together after all, but it seems unlikely.
Jean Marc shakes Sage a little as my love tries to jerk his arm free. “Agreed, Father,” he says. “Charlotte Girard has purposely infected her little playmate,” again with the shake, “in the hope she and her normal can be together.”
I did what?
Rage surges, my wolf trying to show herself, but I hold her back, not wanting Sage to see her just yet. There will be no illusions for him any longer, no hiding what I am, but for this moment, while he stares at me with a pleading look of frustration mixed with pain, I want him to remember me as I am, not as a monster he will surely perceive me to be.
“I have no idea what’s going on here,” he says, voice level and calm despite the dangerous situation he finds himself in. “But I’m a US citizen and you can’t hold me against my will.” There is bravado in his voice, but I know he’s afraid, I can smell it on him, though perhaps no one else can. I do know him better than anyone here.
“You have no rights,” Oleksander snaps. “If you speak again, normal, I will have your tongue torn from your mouth.”
He’ll have to kill me, first.
Femke has clearly had enough. “Let the boy speak,” she says, the full push of her Council power behind her words. “We must get to the bottom of this before anything can be decided.”
“His fate is already assured,” my grandfather says. He pauses, eyes finally meeting mine before he grumbles something I don’t catch. “Ask your questions, Council Leader. But his life is mine.”
Femke ignores him, though I am well aware it costs her to do so. She wants so very much for all of us to work together, to tear down the walls between all races, to bring magickind into one happy family. I fear she will fail this time, her ideals too bright and shiny for the pathetic mess of the wereneations laws.
Sage nods to her, clears his throat. More of his fear shows, probably because of my grandfather’s words. He thinks he’s become embroiled in the Russian Mafia’s business, or some other mortal threat. He has no idea what he’s truly facing and I only wish I could warn him.
“I’m staying at a hostel in Milia,” he says, his voice carrying despite his anxiety, clear and deep. “I went for a walk this afternoon to check out some ruins.” That part could be true, the countryside is littered with abandoned villages and even the odd Roman settlement recovered by archeologists. “I was on my way back to town when something attacked me. A dog, I think.”
“Or a wolf?” Femke’s voice has softened, her sympathy for him obvious now. She might not know what Sage means to me, but she’s certainly garnered enough from Jean Marc’s little speech. I don’t want her sympathy, though. I want her to take Sage away from here and protect him from my grandfather and the laws of my people.
Sage frowns, head bowing as he thinks it over. “Or a wolf,” he says. “But wolves don’t attack people.”
Normal wolves don’t, it’s true. But wait. “You’re sure it was a wolf?” Not a werewolf?
Sage nods to me, green eyes dark as he winces against Kristophe’s cruel grip. The younger Dumont brother winks at me as I grind my teeth and imagine his death. “I had a good look,” Sage says. “Definitely a dog shape.” He seems confused by the question.
So does Femke. Is this possible? Her mind is churning under her contact. I thought weres could only turn part way?
It’s true, I answer her, even more shaken than ever. We are unable to take full wolf form. To do so would mean the loss of our humanity.
So could we be dealing with a revenant who has somehow managed to make it into full wolf shape? She turns to my grandfather before I can answer and addresses him. “Can you explain this, Your Majesty?”
Oleksander waves it off. “He’s a normal,” my grandfather says. “His mind cannot grasp what he truly saw. Which means it adapted and made up the pure wolf form.”
While I know it’s possible, Sage is much more aware than that.
“With all due respect,” he speaks up, “I know what I saw. Your Majesty.” The title he adds as if by afterthought, but it comes out with respect behind it. I only wish it could make a difference.
“This is irrelevant,” Caine speaks up at last, his tone almost lazy, bored. “And our conversation on the matter doesn’t change a thing.”
I hate him with my entire being as I turn and stare, knowing what he intends, unable to stop it, stop him, finally throwing myself into the only plan I can conceive of. The one plan that will put more people I love in danger.
All for Sage. He’s worth it.
Oleksander hesitates and for a moment I wonder if my grandfather feels pity for me, for the normal I love. Regardless his feelings, he nods quickly and sits down on his throne while Femke and the vampires wait for him to speak.
I feel as though the room is suddenly empty, that it’s just Sage and me and no one else. Until my grandfather breaks my illusion.
“You are correct, Pack Leader Caine,” Oleskander says. “We will investigate this attack,” he b
ows his head to Femke and acknowledges the vampire leaders the same way, “but no matter the outcome of that investigation, the fate of this young normal is sealed.”
Sage looks panicked, his eyes locked on me, struggling against the Dumonts who just hold him tighter. I betray him by standing there and doing nothing, heart a trembling bird beating against my ribs, waiting for my moment to act. I hope he knows I will never abandon him, but from the desperate expression on his face he already senses what’s coming.
“I’m sorry, boy,” Oleksander says, his power ebbing and I feel then he truly means it. “But the law is clear. You will be imprisoned until that time your infection makes itself manifest. And, when it does, you will be executed as a revenant and burned to dust to prevent the spread of your disease.”
***
Chapter Thirty One
“NO!” The word escapes me before I can stop it and I’m moving, running for Sage, Piers’s grasping hands trying to hold me back. Andre dodges out of the way, his self-satisfied arrogance gone in a flood of shock as I leap at his boys. Kristophe squeaks in fright, releasing Sage, but Jean Marc won’t back down. He leans around as I reach the two of them and slams his free fist into the bite on Sage’s shoulder.
Sage screams, staggers to the side, falling to his knees, face pale. His green eyes roll back into his head as he passes out from the pain. The two files I held so desperately hit the floor with a thump as I spin in a circle and plant my right boot into Jean Marc’s guts. The impact is backed with power and any other time I would be well satisfied to watch him take flight, crashing backward into a row of wereguards who stand behind him.
For now, I don’t care about revenge or if I hurt the evil Dumont brother. All I care about is keeping Sage safe. And there is only one person I can turn to.
SYD! My mental voice is strong, but I’ve never tried to reach her from such a great distance. And she’s been absent, gone with Max so often I don’t even know if she will hear me. If she doesn’t, I have few options, ones that will mean the end of my life here, but I am willing to make that sacrifice.
