When I looked down at the ground at how far I'd come, a dizzy spell took me. At the thought of falling to my death, the contents of my lunch rolled around in my belly and I became nauseous. Bile rose in my throat.
"Please God, don't let me fall," I said.
I looked away from the ground and refocused on my target. I could see it clearly now. It was a rusted knife, handmade with steel and rawhide. I climbed higher, ignoring the signs of bad weather on the horizon until I reached the knife. I tugged it free of the branch and vines that had held it captive all this time. As soon as it was released, a vision came to me of Damon Caedmon on the mountain, holding that very same knife in his hand. And suddenly I was in the vision too. It was as if I was looking through Damon's eyes. At Priestess Shanhah.
She used her magic to subdue him, holding him frozen to the spot. Or maybe it was the arrow that her men had put into his heart. Blood poured from the wound in his gut on the ground he was standing on.
"Why are you doing this?" Damon asked.
"The blood of the Alpha flows through your veins."
"Of course it does, witch!" He held the knife suspended in mid-air but he couldn't move. Shanhah was more powerful than he realized. Than they all had realized.
"A Caedmon Alpha's blood is pure and filled with magic."
"What do you want with my blood?"
"From Caedmon blood and from wolf's blood, the first Alpha was converted. Now from Alpha's blood, I'll bring about a new race who'll serve me."
"You stupid bitch!" Damon spat.
Shanhah cocked her head to one said. "No, this isn't stupid. This is the will of my goddess. The One. The All."
I was knocked out of the vision when I lost my grip on the trunk.
I sprained my arm trying to grasp for a low hanging branch and cried out, but the limb couldn't hold my weight. It broke and my body fell like a waft in the wind.
I saw a vision of my brother being thrown from the mountain with the handmade knife in his fist and falling to his death.
Or maybe it was me.
I was falling…with the knife in my hand.
When I hit the ground, the wind was knocked right out of me and then—
Chapter Twenty-One
Elisa
I moaned and my hand went to my head, pulling at the thing wrapped around it. I squinted against the sunlight flooding my vision and peered out. I scented Tristan, but when I opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was.
"Leave the bandage alone," Tristan said from the chair by the bed.
"I…" I shook my head. "I need to get up."
He rose and came to my bedside. "No, you don't need to get up.”
He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. The more our lips remained together, the better my body felt. I needed him. I needed him to heal and he knew this.
"I love you, Elisa. I can't lose you. Not today and not ever," he said.
"I love you too, Tristan."
He put his palm on my forehead and pushed my hair back away from my face. "You need something stronger to heal you. You're still hurting, but we'll get around to it."
I blushed and smiled. "My body hurts in a million places, yet somehow, I'm aroused at the thought of you fucking me right now and doing that thing you do to me with your mouth."
He grinned. "I'd be an evil man if I took you while you were like this."
I laughed. "Not really. Your touch does heal me. Where am I anyway?" I asked.
"My home," he said.
I looked around at the large bedroom suite. The dramatic, dark interior suited Tristan's style well.
"Why Elisa?" he asked. "Why did you do that?"
I sighed, remembering my fall and how painful it felt when my body hit the ground. I reached behind me and rubbed my neck.
"I didn't know I would fall."
"Of course you didn't know you would fall, but what were you doing climbing a tree like that by yourself. Jesus Christ."
"I was looking for something."
He sighed heavily. "Elisa, please don't…I can't lose anyone else."
I swallowed. "I should have told someone. I was only going to do the one spell and then I saw something in the tree."
"The knife?" he asked, knowingly. "The knife that was clutched in your hand."
I nodded.
"You climbed up a big ass tree for a rusty old knife?"
"It's not just a rusty knife!" I glared at him. "It belonging to Damon."
Tristan wiped the pissed-off look from his face. "I'm sorry. But what do you want with Damon's knife?"
"I just wanted to find out what really happened to him."
Tristan sunk back down into the chair. "So, you found out by re-enacting his death? Throwing yourself from the tree?"
"If I weren't lying here, I'd slap sense into you, you know that? Why would I throw myself from a tree? That's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"Then why did you do that?"
"Sometimes trees talk. And sometimes the spirits mingle there."
Tristan shook his head. "I'll cut that tree down, so you won't climb it again."
"You won't!"
It looked like he wanted to say something else, but he held his tongue.
"Did you tell Devin?"
"Of course I did. He was there when I felt you in peril. I knew you were in trouble and I ran until I caught your scent. Unfortunately, it was too late," he replied.
"You knew that I was in trouble?"
He nodded.
"What did Devin say?"
"He pried the knife from your hand and took it from you. I think he knows why you did it too. He took the knife to one of the elders."
"There's something in an Alpha's blood that makes them different. Something that comes to them in spirit," I said.
"You mean the ability to hold sway over their people, and the ability to keep their Packs alive?" Tristan asked.
"Not just that. I think Shanhah was trying to convert someone into a shifter. Like the gods did with the first Caedmon."
"Fuck…seriously," Tristan breathed.
I nodded. "If witches of a certain bloodline can strip and bind wolf spirits from shifters, I wouldn't be surprised if they could also convert another by binding them with a spirit. Using the blood of an Alpha."
"That's impossible. That's just not done anymore."
"Well, you've seen it yourself. You have accounts of Arnou wolves that can no longer shift because their wolf spirits have been stripped. It's the thing we tried to prevent when we destroyed Shanhah. Could she have also been trying to convert someone?"
Tristan sat back in his chair. "Who would she convert? Herself? Other witches?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter. If the person she converted pledged loyalty, it wouldn't matter. They'd be bound to serve her."
"But she's dead. If she had this power, it died with her."
"She might be dead, but there are others out there. I'm one of them. It's called blood magic. I would never attempt this, but I'm not the only witch from a strong bloodline on this planet."
"What does it mean if someone has converted another into a wolf shifter?"
"It means we won't be the only wolf shifter bloodline out there. There would be a new race if one doesn't already exist as we speak."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tristan
I really hated to bother my grandfather about all of this. His health was declining and I had a feeling that both he, Rachel Nurse, and his doctor were trying to keep it from me. Every time I discussed something stressful with him, one week later I'd get a bill from the doctor. That's how I knew. Even now the room smelled of something akin to death. But I didn't know what to do and had nowhere else to turn. And I was done spinning wheels and I definitely didn't want Elisa out there again doing spells, climbing trees, and nearly getting herself killed.
Thibaud Jr. wasn't in the mood for talking today. Not even small talk. I could feel it in his demeanor, so I sat there like I di
d sometimes and just listened to his breathing. When he was ready, eventually, he'd begin talking.
And he did.
"I read your letter about what Elisa Caedmon did," he said.
"You were sleeping last night. I needed to get it all out, but I didn't want to wake you so I wrote the letter. Elisa's discovered some game-changing revelations," I said.
My grandfather nodded. "I'm sorry that it has come to this. I should've done something more."
"It's not your fault. I have this strange hunch…this strange feeling…"
"About the Zovics?" He turned slowly, his soulless eyes searching.
"Yes, about the Zovics. Namely Goran and Jovan."
"They've always wanted to be the top dogs," he said and then chuckled. He began coughing and spitting up blood.
My heart tightened. I hated seeing him this way.
I handed him the note that I received from Jovan the other day. He read it, sighed, and handed it back.
"Sounds like he's ready to come out of his hiding place," my grandfather stated.
"I wish he would so I could wrap my hands around his throat and snatch the life out of him," I said.
"I always wondered why they took to the shadows after you forced Goran into retirement and banished Jovan for his betrayal," he said.
"They can't remain in the shadows for long. It's time for me to drag them out and handle business," I said.
My grandfather nodded. "Yes, it is."
"Then tell me. Where did it all begin?"
"My father made the deal with Stevan Vuk Zovic in the Zovic family vault. That's where it all began. That's where the alliance was made."
"Then that's where I'll go," I said.
"That's where you'll go…" He frowned. "I want to see Elisa Caedmon. Please have Rachel Nurse bring her before you leave tonight."
"I will."
I rose from the seat and started for the door.
"Goodbye, Tristan," I heard him call out before I crossed the threshold.
I froze under the door frame, a sinking feeling of pending doom low in my gut. I turned around and looked at my grandfather's frail form on the bed.
"Goodbye Papa."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elisa
I walked into the room of Thibaud Arnou Jr., which smelled oddly of lilacs, licorice…and death. The nurse—they called her Rachel Nurse—was mute. She used sign language to communicate but I had no knowledge of it. I smiled and nodded at her when she brought me to the room and left me there, then put sign language on my mental list of languages I wanted to learn. I knew braille already, so why not sign?
Tristan had just walked out the door and told me not to leave from his house. Apparently, there were guards all around—even of the shifter variety. He didn't have to worry about that. As long as he promised to return to me, I'd be right here.
I closed the door and walked over to Thibaud's bedside. His eyes were barely open. He looked so weak. He tried to smile when he saw me. I glimpsed a machine near the bedside. It looked like some kind of life support system or breathing machine. It didn't matter now. The machine was unplugged.
"Mr. Arnou, I'm pleased to finally meet you," I said. "Tristan said you wanted to see me. You don't have to talk."
He smiled, nodded and pointed to his water tray. I grabbed it for him. There were some herbs on the tray along with some honey. Based on the types of herbs, I knew the concoction was meant to ease the soreness in his throat and clear out his airways. The water in the kettle was already cold.
"Don't worry," I said. "I'll make you some more."
He watched me make his tea. I took the back of the spoon and crushed all the herbs in the exact amounts before placing them in the strainer. He picked up a pencil and wrote something on a piece of paper.
It read: You should teach Rachel Nurse how to make that. Who taught you?
"Roman De’Santo Caedmon, my uncle," I said.
He nodded.
I looked around but there wasn't any fire in the room.
"Do you know about me, Mr. Arnou?" I asked him.
He nodded. He made the sign for witch.
I laughed and he tried to laugh too, but it only came at as a hoarse chortle.
"That's correct. I'm a witch." I said a quick spell and the water began to boil in the small kettle.
My actions didn't even seem to faze Thibaud. He already knew about my powers. I was glad that I didn't have to explain myself.
I strained the tea, adding the right mix of herbs and then helped him sit up on the bed. He drank the tea and then stopped to write something else.
It read: Tristan talks a lot about you. A whole lot.
I blushed. "Your grandson is very special to me."
He nodded and drank the entire contents of the cup. He cleared his throat and said, "He loves you."
I smiled, happy to finally hear his voice.
"I love Tristan."
"He's changed his whole outlook on life since he met you."
"I've seen the changes," I replied.
"He's hard-headed, but you'll have to make him listen. I think you can. I see your strength. That's why fate picked you for him."
"I'll try."
"You have your father's chin," Mr. Arnou noted.
I chuckled. "You've met him."
"Yes, I've seen him once or twice. I even talked to him one night at a trading post before I got sick."
"You've lived a long life," I said. "Longer than most."
"Not longer than your uncle, Roman, but the Arnou men do have very long life spans even when we're sick…unfortunately."
"You're here for a reason," I told him.
"Yes, Elisa. I was here for a reason. My duty is done. And now my time has come."
I wasn't going to argue with him. He seemed to have decided his fate that night.
"I wanted to see you before I took my last breath," he said. "You're a Caedmon witch. You're such a beautiful person. You'll advise Tristan well. And a King always needs a Queen."
"I hope so," I said.
"I'm not expected to live past tonight."
My gaze trailed over to the blood-stained towel on his bed and the picture of a pretty woman beside it.
"The doctor told me yesterday and then confirmed it again today. Even if I plugged the machine back in, I would still die. I didn't tell Tristan."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I need your help with something else."
"With what?" I asked, knowing.
"I want you to help my wolf spirit find peace. I want you to set it free. I don't want it to die with me."
"Mr. Arnou…" He was asking me to aid him in passing.
"Please, I'm going to die either way." He reached on his desk for a blue slip. "Here's the note from the doctor. I had him write it because I knew you'd question me. I knew you wouldn't do it without proof. His cell phone number is there if you need verification."
"I've only done this once," I told him.
"I know. I've heard the rumors of your greatness," he said. He pointed to a bottle of pills. "The doctor gave me the pills just in case you said no. That way, I won't be in pain. And then there's the other way."
"The other way?" I bit my lip.
"The .38 special way," he said, simply.
My heart pounded in my chest and a vision flashed before me. I had seen his future death in a vision once. A vision that predicted he would die by his own hands using the gun.
"No…please don't shoot yourself. Tristan would be devastated. I think you should go peacefully. It would be best if Tristan knew you went peacefully," I said.
"Will you help me? Please…I didn't want to leave Tristan behind, but this pain is torture."
"I can't keep this from him. We're true mates and he'll know that I did this. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't keep this from him," I told him.
"I'm not asking you to lie to Tristan about how I chose to go out. All he needs to know is that I chose to go out my way. Please help me go, and s
et my wolf free. I'm ready now."
I sighed. "I'll do it."
"Thank you. I leave knowing that my grandson is in good hands now with you," he said.
I sat on the bed beside him and held out my palms. He gave me his hands without pause. He closed his eyes as I said the words. The words to unbind this wolf spirit from his human body so they both would rest in peace. Because he barely had any life left in him at all, it took under a minute from start to finish. His heart came to a complete stop and all the breath rushed out in one last push.
I took the photo of the woman he'd been holding before I came into the room and placed it in his cold hands.
"May your spirit live on. Rest well."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tristan
The vault was hidden within a manufacturing plant owned by the Zovic family. I arrived with about a dozen COBRA members backing me. Six Elites and six Enforcers. By choice, Devin and six of Caedmon wolves from his Pack joined me. We didn't know what we were up against, so we came prepared.
When we arrived, employees were actively working out of the plant. They paid no mind to our arrival which told me that they were no stranger to having a group of men in the plant to visit the Zovics. Or perhaps, they just didn't give a shit. The Zovics always paid well in exchange for silence.
A big, buff guard came out into the parking lot.
"Which one of you is Arnou?" he asked.
"I am," I stepped forward.
The buff guy looked me up and down like I was a snack. I wasn't fond of getting beat up by guys that looked like Hulkie Hogan on steroids, but I would light his ass up if he became a problem.
"Zovic only wants to see you," he said.
"My men are with me. So, he can either come out here or allow my men in," I told him.
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