by Lisa Ladew
We’ve been here before, Troy said. Trevor bought Ella’s pendant here.
Trent sat up straighter. Right. This is Mrs. White’s second store. Ella blew up the first one when Khain tried to snatch her from downtown.
Crew grabbed his notebook off the dash and flipped through it. Mrs. White. That’s who I’m interviewing. Her great-granddaughter disappeared earlier today.
The mood in the truck shifted. This was no longer busy work or just-in-case work. Coincidences always meant Khain or Rhen or maybe both were involved, shaping reality in a way the citlali, the spiritual leaders of the shiften, tried to interpret.
Crew jumped out quickly, but it was Trent who took command. Troy, you go inside with Crew, I’ll wait at the door so I don’t upset her. Both of you pay close attention to her emotional state and whatever you can get from it. I’ll have Wade assign someone to start digging into her family and see if she’s connected to us at all.
Crew nodded. He wasn’t so good at spotting lying, especially if the subject was a good liar, but he had other mental skills. Between him and Troy, they would know exactly what had happened.
Once inside, he crossed the room quickly, with Troy on his heels, straight to the cabinet of curios with the elderly woman behind it, a look of absolute disgust on her face. She was short with a heavily-lined face, and dressed extravagantly, a stole around her shoulders. Crew sniffed. Mink. Old, but impeccably preserved.
“You the cop, pretty boy?” she asked, contempt on her face. “You found my great-granddaughter yet?”
“No. I needed to ask you some questions.”
She waved a hand. “How many cops am I going to have to talk to before one of you remembers what I say?”
“We’re trying to be thorough.”
She sniffed at that and her eyes landed on Troy, sitting attentively next to Crew, watching her. She curled her lip in distaste.
“I need to know exactly what happened. Tell me everything from when you woke up.”
The woman pressed her lips together, but Crew could feel her dredging the memory up. He joined it, grimacing at the nastiness of her thoughts, but not shying away. He watched the picture in her mind, instead of listening to her words, only asking her questions when she didn’t mention something he could see. Troy stayed quiet, meaning she was telling the truth.
When she described the empty yard as she and her granddaughter ran out to look for Paisley, Crew caught a faint hint of an acrid, fiery smell in her memory. He clenched his fists and tried not to curse. Troy looked at him questioningly.
Crew held it together until the old woman was done talking. He wanted to murder Khain. How dare he? He took a few deep breaths and got himself under control. “Is there anything else you think we should know?”
Mrs. White’s demeanor had cracked slightly while recounting her tale, and now her voice was much softer than before. “She’s only four, officer. So little and innocent. You have to find her quickly.”
Crew had been trained never to promise humans anything─they died so easily─but he couldn’t help the pledge that rose to his lips. “We will. I swear it.”
Mrs. White’s hand trembled as she reached across the counter to grasp Crew’s arm in a surprisingly tight grip. “You’re the first person who’s told me there was a chance. Please, you personally, go out and look for her. I feel like you could succeed where others have failed. There’s something about you.”
Crew didn’t answer. At her touch, another scene thrust into his mind. Not from that day, but from maybe a week before. Paisley’s face looked overly beautiful and angelic as she spoke in Mrs. White’s memories. “I don’t remember, Nana.”
Crew looked down in Mrs. White’s memory, running a gnarled thumb over the scar on Paisley’s arm. “You scratched yourself in your sleep?”
“No, Nana, I…” Her voice faltered and she looked down. “Maybe I did.”
Crew stared through Mrs. White’s eyes at the scar on Paisley’s arm that looked at least a month old, but hadn’t been there the day before.
Chapter 18
Dahlia wrote furiously, doing the only thing that could disengage her mind from her troubles, so she didn’t have to think about other worlds, lost loves, or strange jungles that shouldn’t have ever been there.
Her fingers pounded against the keyboard until they hurt, until six hours later, when she finally typed the two words she’d been seeking since she’d started to write her short story about the werewolf who fell in love with a human woman, and how exactly they made their life work.
She read over the last few paragraphs:
Cole held out a hand to her. Danielle took it, trying to keep her fingers from shaking, as he spoke with an amber eye to the horizon. “We’ll go, then. If we can’t build a life here, we’ll go somewhere we can. No matter what our differences, we can make it work. I knew I had to have you the moment I saw you, and that hasn’t changed, human or not.”
Hope soared inside Danielle. But… “Cole, can we, well, do you want…”
“Babies? Yes. We can have babies, Danielle. They’ll be strong warriors like their father, or beautiful, proud vixens like their mother.”
He pulled her close and stared down into her eyes, wiping away one errant tear. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you from now on. You’ll never have to be afraid of anything again.”
They kissed, the sun finally slipping below the horizon as their lips met. Danielle’s eyes were slightly open, so she saw the flash of light in the sky as it went down, like the very gods were blessing them.
She grimaced. Cheesy. Awful. But even as she criticized herself, she knew she could fix it up into something her fan base would love. She’d been writing for years without ever trying to get a book published. She did it because she had to, because the stories filled her mind and tore at her brain until she put them out into the world.
Last year, she’d worked sixteen-hour shifts for over a week when a neighboring town flooded and homeowners had to abandon their animals on their land. During that week, with its constant flow of injured and flood-water-poisoned animals, she hadn’t had time to write even a word before falling into bed, and the build-up of stories in her imagination had made it hard for her to tell fantasy from reality by the fifth day. Her boss had finally forced her to go home sick because of her mental state, and she’d spent that day writing eighteen hours straight, not even stopping to eat. She’d completed a full thirty-two thousand words and put it up on the online storytelling community where she had almost six hundred followers who devoured every word she wrote.
Her avatar there was Accalia, which meant she-wolf. She’d chosen it when Acca Larentia, who had been the adoptive mother of Romulus and Remus from Roman times, had been taken. She’d always loved all things wolf, and after the captured werewolf had been discovered in her dream world was when the urge to write had overtaken her.
She pressed ‘publish’ on her story, no sense waiting when she didn’t know how long she had to live, and wondered why she never wrote in her dream world. She wrote in her notebook there, but had never crafted and recorded a story.
The website wanted a title, which she hadn’t thought of yet. She sat in her comfy chair, absently petting Angel, who was in her lap, and let her mind wander, ignoring a howling noise she heard from outside, somewhere far away. Her fingers typed Second Chances on their own.
Good enough. She pressed ‘publish’ again and put Angel on the ground so she could stand and stretch.
Was the noise someone crying? A little girl? Dahlia opened her front door, listening hard, unable to tell if the noise was inside her own mind or coming from outside. It seemed to come from all directions at once.
Troubled, she walked down her front stoop, her body pulling her mind along.
Angel growled from in the house.
Dahlia ignored him, and kept walking, not even stopping to get a coat, lured by the sound of the girl wailing as if her heart were broken.
***
&nb
sp; Crew strode inside the duty room, praying they’d found Dahlia while he’d been with Mrs. White. Mac, Bruin, Beckett and Wade were huddled over a computer, making Crew’s heart fall. He could read in each of their beings that they had not found her. His hands clenched as he overheard Beckett say, “The restraining order says he assaulted her, then stalked her while he was waiting for his court date. That must be when she changed her name, moved, and didn’t tell anyone her new address, not even the post office box where she got her mail. She gave them her aunt and uncle’s address.”
“Have the cell phone company trace her phone’s location,” the bear suggested.
“We tried that already, she’s got an app on it that makes it untraceable. This guy must have really messed with her.”
Crew’s teeth squeaked, he was grinding them together so hard. Donnie Bryan was the name she had given him. He didn’t care what world Bryan was in, Crew would find him and make sure he was counting worms before the next full moon.
Wade sensed him and turned to him, giving him a questioning look.
He gave his report in ruhi, unable to speak out loud. Khain’s got her. The old lady didn’t see it, but I could smell him through her memory.
Wade took it as hard as Crew had known he would. His back stiffened, but his spirit curdled. A missing human on his watch. A little girl. Khain hadn’t acted as a real threat to humans in the area for years, but now that had changed.
Jaggar sprinted into the duty room, a piece of paper held aloft. “We found her! Canyon hacked into her credit card records and found a package delivered to 4123 Ashland Court. That’s less than a mile away.”
Crew’s emotions spiked as he turned to run out the door, but Wade caught him as he was hitting the handle with the heel of his hand. “Us first. You give us five minutes to secure her, then follow. Where’s Trent and Troy?”
“Outside somewhere,” Crew mumbled, motioning for Wade and the others to go, listening for Khain’s footprint inside his head.
“Bring them when you come. We’re gone.”
The duty room emptied and Crew only stared at the wall, knowing it was wrong. Wrong. He’d done it all wrong. Khain was already at her house.
Don’t worry, pup, she’s not at home, I checked, Khain said inside his head.
Crew shouted in rage, then grabbed his short hair in his hands and tugged, ripping some out by the roots. He dropped to the ground and shifted, knowing his human form did not have the fortitude for what he was about to do.
Standing as a wolf just inside the exit, he imagined his being as an amorphous but powerful knife inside his body and hacked at his own brain, biting back the screams of pain that his wolf vocal cords couldn’t even make.
In a moment, it was over. He slumped to the ground, and blood leaked out his ear. Just before he passed out, he pulled himself together enough to shift, not knowing if his brain would heal or not.
***
Crew, wake the fuck up! Troy screamed inside his head as Trent licked his face mercilessly.
“Ugh,” Crew muttered, shoving Trent away.
Back at you, Trent muttered.
How long was I out?
Couldn’t have been more than a few moments.
Trent cocked his head to the left. Hear that?
Crew pushed himself to his feet and hurriedly pulled on his clothes, not bothering to inspect them for rips. Hear what?
But he heard it, too. A little girl crying. His heart seized up, and he headed for the door.
Once outside, the one man and two wolves all tried to go in different directions.
It’s this way.
No, it’s coming from this way.
Crew ignored them and started running. He knew it was coming from straight ahead, across the parking lot, just on the other side of the grassy field.
Wade spoke inside his head. Crew, she’s not here. Don’t come out here yet. Her front door is open, so we don’t think she’s far. We’re looking for her now.
Crew didn’t bother to answer. He’d seen this in his mind a thousand times. He knew how it turned out. His heart burned like fire in his chest and still he was unable to not play his part if it meant seeing her one more time.
The snow in the field crunched under his boots and the winter wind whipped around his face. He saw Khain, looking like a normal man near a copse of trees, the snow around him melted. In his arms, he held not Dahlia, but Paisley. She was asleep with color in her cheeks and a sweet smile on her face. The crying came from Khain’s body, like a record on repeat.
Crew skidded to a stop, noting the placement of Khain’s fingers around Paisley’s neck. Only they revealed his true nature. The nails were hooked claws, sharp as daggers, the threat clear.
He felt, rather than saw, Dahlia emerge from behind a tree to his left. He held out a hand to her, his eyes never leaving Khain’s fingers. He’d always thought he would fight Khain to the death, but now he knew why he couldn’t. Why he would have to hand over his one true mate without so much as a word of protest. He didn’t even stop to consider if she would go.
Dahlia’s fingers wound around his, but she didn’t look at him. “Oh,” she said lightly, as her gaze landed upon the little girl in the monster’s arms.
“Dahlia,” he said, wanting to explain it to her. To apologize. To tell her there was nothing he could do, but he wished there was with every bit of his being. That he would remember her forever, love her for eternity, never dream of taking another, for what he hoped was an extremely short life.
She turned to him for just a moment, her eyes no longer looking haunted. Now she looked only at peace. She smiled at him. “It’s ok. I know what happens now. I’ve seen it in my daydreams many times.”
He tried to speak but she held her finger to his lips. “Me too. Forever.”
She turned away from him and went to the monster, only letting go of Crew’s fingers when her forward motion forced her to. She stopped three feet from Khain. “Give the girl to Crew and I’ll come to you,” she said, her voice clear and strong.
Khain juggled Paisley into one arm, caught Dahlia in the other, then floated Paisley across the field to Crew. Khain’s jagged claws found Dahlia’s throat instead.
All around Crew, the yelling and shouts of his pack reached his ears. Too late. The first one to him took Paisley from his arms, and that was all he needed to fulfill his part of the transaction. He shifted and ran for Khain, his thoughts in slow motion, his emotions on hold.
Khain’s hand jerked and Dahlia slumped, then fell to the ground as Khain disappeared. Crew’s animal howled in despair even as it ran to her.
She lifted a hand to him. “Crew,” she said weakly, then her eyes slipped closed and she died.
Chapter 19
Dahlia stirred, then opened her eyes on the same carpet of fur. She jumped to her feet, her hands flying to her throat. It was intact, the pain of her death already fading.
“Angel!” she shouted, as the room lit with the northern lights, greens and blues and a pink so intense it hurt her eyes.
The walls slid in close and quickly and, this time, there were three doors. Angel sat in the same spot he had the first time.
“Well done, ayasha. You truly did die well.”
“So now I’m dead for good?”
“Of course not, no one ever dies for good.”
“The little girl?”
“─will be fine.”
The lights flared and Dahlia stared at them, encouraging them, until they blinded her, then she imagined them away.
“And Crew?”
“He suffers, but he will not for long. When he realizes you can be recovered, he will set out to find you, and the trek will soothe his despair.”
“What about you, Angel? Will you be ok?”
“The wolves will find me soon. The dragon will know what to do with me.”
Dahlia blinked and shook her head. Dragon? Instead of wasting time on that, she asked the most important question. “Will Crew recover me?”
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“He will have to make a choice, just like you will, and the sum of your choices will determine your fate.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I do not know the answer, ayasha. I believe he will. I hope he will. If he does not, the world will still spin and the fight against the demon will go on, but without the two of you.”
Dahlia swallowed hard, then decided she only had one choice, and that was to decide, and know, with all her being, that Crew would find her. “Is the demon the one who killed me?”
“Yes. Khain is the name he uses. He will hunt you and your sisters as long as he draws breath, but you are strong, all of you.”
“I don’t have any sisters, Angel.”
Angel chuckled and the noise in her head made her think of rainbows and babies laughing. “But you do, ayasha. Thousands of sisters.”
“What is that, some kind of metaphor?”
Angel laughed again, making her smile. “No. No metaphor. But your sisters are not what we are needing to discuss now.”
“Let me ask you an important question. Are you God?”
“I am but one aspect of God, as are you.”
She frowned at that but felt he would not answer any other questions along that line. That was ok, she had other questions. Many others. “Why are we here? Why do we live?”
“For the fun of it, for the joy of it, for the love that we feel when we come together.”
“Hm. It didn’t feel very fun while I was dying.”
“That is only because you do not understand your true nature and power.”
Ok. He could out-answer her like she was a toddler. “Do you mean the things I can create with my mind when I imagine with emotion?”
“No, although I enjoy them immensely. Imagining is not the only time you can do that. You create entire universes when you write stories.”
“I─I what?”
“A discussion for another time, ayasha, perhaps in your dreams. Time again grows short, and you have a choice to make.”
She stared at the doors. “Does it matter which one I choose?”
“All things rest upon your decision, but you are not the only one making decisions.”
