Last Wolf Standing (#7, The Mystic Wolves)

by Belinda Boring

  Asher’s next words broke through my irritation. “It’s Darcy.”

  ****

  “Stop!” I yelled, rushing in to find Morgan, hanging in the air, Darcy’s fist cocked back ready to strike. The tension between them was almost palpable—Morgan’s eyes darted my way before returning to Darcy. I’d seen the witch scared before, but never like this.

  “Go away, Devlin. This doesn’t concern you.” Darcy’s voice didn’t even sound like her, the snarl bordering that feral tone I’d heard Mason once use when he was struggling to hold his humanity.

  Mason had wanted that control, however.

  From the way she rigidly gripped Morgan’s shirt, ready to strike, I wasn’t so sure about my niece. Her grief and fury over losing her mate had pushed her dangerously close to the edge.

  “It does concern me, sweetheart,” I answered, trying to infuse as much calm into my words as possible.

  It had the opposite effect. “Don’t you ever call me that. Only Mason has the right to use that endearment. Once I convince Morgan that it’s in her best interest to work a spell, he will be here and able to use it, himself.” It was hard to ignore the pain in her response.

  “I told her what would happen if I did, Devlin, but she won’t listen. Maybe you’d have an easier time,” Morgan added, right before she was thrown backward, slamming into the wall.

  Gone was the sweet girl I’d watched grow up. Unbridled fury blazed from Darcy’s face as she strode forward and lifted an unconscious Morgan. “I heard what you said, witch. I just don’t believe you.”

  I didn’t wait to act. Crossing the room, I pulled Darcy into my arms and held on tight. “She’s right. Mason is gone. No amount of magic will bring him back. At least not the man you love.”

  “You’re wrong! Both of you!” Darcy screamed as she fought against my embrace. “She owes me, Devlin. She’s so willing to use her magic for everyone else. Either she puts Mason back in his body, or she forfeits her life!”

  “This isn’t the answer,” I countered, my tentative hold on her slipping. She was like a wild cat in my arms, kicking out in hope of getting loose, her eyes never leaving Morgan. “Calm down. You know he wouldn’t want this. You wouldn’t want this.”

  The laugh that escaped from Darcy was almost maniacal in its grief. “What I want is for him to walk through that door and tell me he loves me . . . that this is all some horrible nightmare and to wake up. I can’t breathe it hurts so much. So no, I won’t calm the hell down. Not until she fixes this!”

  “It’s not her mistake to correct,” I whispered, finally letting her go. I could barely stand to look at Darcy—her eyes bloodshot from crying, her features contorted in anger. “If you’re looking for someone to blame and take your anger out on, here I am.”

  “You don’t think I realize the role you played in this, uncle?” She spat at the last word, making me cringe from its vehemence. “If you stop me from using Morgan, so help me, we are done. I will never talk to you again.”

  Every part of me wanted to give in to her demands, just so she’d stop glaring at me like I was the enemy. In her desperation, I knew Darcy wasn’t thinking straight. But it didn’t stop her threat from finding its mark.

  I couldn’t be her hero—that wasn’t what she truly needed.

  “I wish things were different. I wish I could give you what you want, but this isn’t right, and you know it. Search your heart. This is not how you want to honor his legacy.”

  Standing there, watching as she struggled to control her breathing, her features covered in angry red splotches, she stopped being the carefree girl I loved. Gone were all the things that drew me to her—her kind eyes, infectious smile, and optimistic spirit.

  Darcy was completely broken—a defeated shell—everything I’d worked so hard to prevent. There was no stopping the hollowed expression that filled her face, deadening the glow her eyes once held.

  “I’m painfully aware of what’s expected of me. Julian kills Mason and I’m meant to just move on like it’s nothing.” Tears began streaming down her cheeks as her voice cracked.

  “Darcy, please.”

  I’d done this. This was my fault.

  Darcy shook her head, just once. “I can’t talk about this anymore, Devlin. It just hurts too much.”

  “I know. Tell me what I can do to make this easier.”

  “Bring him back.”

  “Anything but that.” If there was a way I could reverse time I would.

  Shrinking away from my touch, her hand slipped down to rest over her stomach. “Then there’s nothing you can do for me, for us.” Not waiting for her to explain her last comment, Darcy gave Morgan one last frustrated look, and left.

  As much as I wanted to rush out after her and beg forgiveness, her exit left me speechless.

  All I could think about was that one solitary word . . . us.

  Suddenly it all made sense.

  The desperation and insistence that Morgan use her magic.

  “Klothos!” I thundered, whipping around as I yelled about the room. “I know you can hear me! You’ve interfered before . . . I order you to do it, again!”

  The air filled with a sweet, flowery, fragrance, my only warning before the young Moirai appeared. “You shouldn’t have summoned me, Devlin Lockhart.”

  “I don’t care!”

  “I’m afraid you will be once this is over.” Then touching my arm, we were sucked from the room into darkness.

  ****

  “We are not at you beck and call, Devlin Lockhart,” Atropos announced, dismissing me with the flick of her fingers. Although she was currently stretched across a cushioned chaise, idly sipping from her jeweled chalice, I knew looks could be deceiving.

  I’d taken a great risk in summoning the Fates. The moment Klothos removed us from reality, and brought me to stand before her two sisters, the remaining alcohol that had given me my foolish courage had evaporated.

  With only my wits to help me, I’d been locked in a heated argument since arriving.

  “Why is he still here?” Lakhesis yawned, clearly bored by the interruption.

  “Yes, I know what I’m asking for is against the rules; but if you’d just listen . . .”

  “We are above the rules, vampire. If we wish to change time and erase events, it is within our power to make it so.” The young façade Atropos wore fell away, revealing the aged Crone she’d become. “We do not need your permission, nor do we need to listen.” Irritation coated her scorn-filled words. In a room that was bathed in warm light, her hostile glare sent shivers through me.

  “I didn’t come here to offend you,” I replied, placing my hand over my heart, hoping they’d see and feel my sincerity. While it hadn’t been my intention when I yelled for Klothos, it was an opportunity I wouldn’t waste—no matter how dangerous my plea. “I simply ask that you give me a chance to right a wrong.”

  “No, what you ask is for us to rewrite your history. While we cannot assume to understand your feeble admission of guilt, it is not enough for us to grant your request.”

  “But you are the keepers of Fate. Surely you know that this wasn’t meant to happen. My destiny was to destroy Julian.”

  It was Lakhesis who laughed. “And so he is destroyed. His thread has been severed and he now suffers in the afterlife for his many crimes. If this was your destiny, you have fulfilled it.”

  “But what about the others? Was it their time to die?” Images of Darcy’s tear stained face flashed in my mind. “What about Mason and Darcy? What kind of cruel game do you play if, after everything they’ve endured, it was so she would live the remainder of her life without him?”

  My accusation hit its mark. “Their fate is beyond us, now.”

  “Don’t they deserve a happily-ever-after? Tell me, was it my niece’s destiny to forever grieve the loss of her soul mate?”

  “Everyone must grieve,” Klothos answered softly, her features filled with true sympathy. “There is a time and a season to everything.
”

  “Yes, but I promise you, if I had killed Julian when I first had that chance, that battle would never have happened. Please, let me fix it. Send me back. Give me a chance to save those I love.”

  The small atrium where I stood fell silent as the three Moirai considered my words. History books had described them as unfeeling—cruel even—respecting no one and the judges of all. The threads that bound each person to their fate lay heavily guarded within their fortress.

  Whether in spinning, protecting, or severing those links—they’d interfered before. Klothos, herself, had brought Mason and Darcy together sooner than planned, their shared dream proof that she’d broken the rules. Amber had used that same supernatural interference to try and discredit their mating, insisting she was actually Mason’s true mate. And it wasn’t until after the couple had triumphed over the harrowing trials of the Heart and Death, that the mating dispute was finally settled. They’d earned the title of ‘soul mates’.

  They were meant to enjoy the rest of their lives in wedded bliss.

  Not separated by death.

  “This is what you truly want?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  Atropos leaned forward, watching me shrewdly. “To go back to that specific point in time?”

  “Yes,” I answered, feeling I was close to getting what I desperately wanted. Throughout my life, I’d thought of nothing else—countless what ifs—and it always came back to that defining moment.

  “What say you, sisters? Shall we humor him? Give him a chance to change his fate?” There was something in the way her eyes narrowed that told me to look for a hidden meaning.

  “Please, I beg you.” Getting down on my knees, I willingly submitted myself before them. “Whatever price you ask, I will pay it.” If this was another mistake, then at least the consequences would be mine alone to carry.

  Lakhesis grinned, her eyes wide with excitement. “Whatever the price?”

  “Whatever the outcome?” Klothos added, sadly.

  Sighing with relief, I nodded. I’d done it . . . I’d convinced them. “Yes.”

  “Then pray you’ve chosen well, Devlin Lockhart.” Snapping her fingers, a golden thread appeared in the air before me. Its glow was mesmerizing . . . its lure causing me to take a step forward. “Klothos will accompany you, ensuring your safe passage back and forth.”

  Taking my hand, Klothos led me to my life’s thread, waving her hand to open a portal behind it.

  “Thank you.” I bowed, eager to begin. There wasn’t time to reconsider, to wonder whether I’d acted rashly. All I could think about was Darcy and her grief. “I’m ready.”

  “I hope you are.” Atropos smiled, reclining back on the chaise. “Until the next time we meet.”

  Nodding, I stepped into the shimmering light.

  ****

  A sharp pang of familiarity hit as sounds and smells from my childhood home came rushing at me. Gulping for air, Klothos’ hand helped steady me, the journey back in time harder than I thought.

  “Deep breaths, Devlin,” she whispered.

  I was on sensory overload. It had been one thing to imagine this moment, to dream about returning to my ancestral home, but quite another to be confronted with it, every part of me struggling to focus.

  The Moirai had given me a small window of opportunity—Julian was set to arrive at any minute. There was no way I would be caught by surprise, this time.

  The dagger that I constantly had tucked into my boot would find its mark.

  No hesitation.

  Leaning against the cold hallway wall, my heartbeat slowed. Now wasn’t the time for weakness. “If I remember right, Julian didn’t enter my sister’s birthing chamber until after Lucinda was born. The nurses were frantically working at staunching Elynor’s bleeding.”

  “I know. I remember.” She nodded, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders. Klothos was completely unaffected by the magic we’d just used to enter the golden thread. “You understand why you must stay out here, don’t you? Your younger self is inside with Elynor, offering her support. For all intents and purposes, everything within that room will remain the same. The only difference will be Julian.”

  To be so close and forced to stay hidden was pure agony. “I can’t see her? Not even a peek?”

  “I’m sorry. You are here at great sacrifice already, Devlin. Each person’s lifeline is fragile, at best. We cannot risk having your past and present self together in the same room. We must let the birth continue as it was.”

  As much as I hated admitting it, she was right. While I wasn’t a stranger to temptation, this was one that ate away at my heart, begging me to throw caution to the wind. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Changing fate usually is. It always comes with a heavy price.” Biting on her bottom lip, Klothos looked away, shrinking into the shadows surrounding us.

  “What?” I asked, knowing the look on her face. I’d seen Darcy do it countless times in the past . . . future . . . when we were together. It was a telltale sign that she was either nervous, was hiding something, or was unsure of whether to speak up.

  “It’s not my place to talk you out of this. I sense your intentions, see glimpses into your thoughts. This point in time has been the source of great regret and guilt. I can see why you would believe changing this would alter the future.”

  “But?” There was always a ‘but’.

  “Have you truly considered the ramifications of this decision?”

  The differences between Klothos and her sisters became clearer the longer I spent time with her. She possessed none of the malice the other two showed, her heart soft and discerning. It made me want to ask how she’d survived her role within the Moirai.

  I could only imagine her struggle, if the conflicted expression on her dainty features were any indication.

  “I’ve thought of little else,” I admitted. “Bad things happen . . . I get it. It’s during those challenges that we learn and become better.”

  “But?” It was her turn to smile.

  “But how do I live with myself knowing that others have paid the price for my failures? Everything I’ve done . . . the person I’ve tried to be . . . I wanted it to somehow make up for that one mistake, but it’s never been enough. Honestly, I don’t think it ever will be.” Standing in the darkened corner, my gaze on the door that led to my sister, I’d never been more sure of anything. “It all comes back to this—to killing Julian when I first had the chance.”

  “Even if it means . . .” She seemed reluctant to speak the truth I already knew and had accepted.

  “Even if it means that by killing him now, I no longer return to the future I’m trying to save.” And there was the reality of my decision.

  No Julian meant no blood oath with Elynor. If that were the case, there would be no need to become a vampire—it had been the only way I’d seen that would allow me to honor that promise to her. Without the gift of immortality, I would have remained human and died in my allotted time.

  My thread would already have been cut—my life long over.

  “Are you sure, Devlin? I feel I must ask you, again.”

  I didn’t want her sorrow.

  I didn’t need her compassion.

  Despite what she thought, there was nothing heroic or noble about me. This was a sacrifice that should never have been needed. I was simply setting the story straight.

  Commotion caught my attention as footsteps rushed in our direction. Everyone involved in the birth was inside the room, already. While my mother and a few coven members waited elsewhere, they were in a nearby chamber, ensuring the magical circle to protect the baby was in place.

  Bending over and removing the dagger from my boot, I lifted my finger to my lips, motioning for Klothos to be silent. I recognized the arrogant stride of Julian, his leather boots pounding over the stone floor.

  It all came down to perfect timing—of holding back my impatience until the precise instant he passed by—
of taking one last fortifying breath before stepping out of the shadows.

  I ignored his surprise and the way his mouth gaped open at finding me there in the hallway, weapon in hand.

  Even as his lips began moving, the tingle of magic answering his call to attack, this was my moment—my redemption.

  Gone was the weaker version of myself, the one who thought his courage would make up for his lack of experience. Instead, I was older, wiser, and stronger. I’d been forged in the fire of adversity, refined by the hard-fought choices I’d made.

  I wasn’t the same person I had been; and in that next breath I offered it all up, praying it would save the ones I loved.

  Dragging him to me, I acted. A rich coppery scent filled the air as my knife sliced through Julian’s throat, his knees crumbling beneath him as he fell to the ground. Even as his blood pooled around him, draining the light from Julian’s eyes, I didn’t look away.

  “Rot in hell, you bastard.”

  “Devlin, we must go,” Klothos insisted, her hand resting gently at my elbow.

  “One more moment.” I couldn’t leave until I knew Julian had taken his last breath. He’d proven resilient in the future, and there was no way I’d just sacrificed everything, only to have him return. When at last he stilled, his chest no longer rising up and down, I sheathed the dagger. “It is done.”

  “Take my hand. We can’t be here when his body is discovered. We must leave.”

  There was one more thing I had to know before I could let go of this completely. “Will I be happy?” It was selfish of me to ask, but once we left, the Devlin in the room with his sister—me—he would be heading into the unknown, a life without the Supernatural.

  “After you finish mourning the death of your sister, you will find great joy in raising Lucinda. You will even find love.”

  “And there is no way to save Elynor?” I pressed.

  Klothos shook her head, holding my pleading gaze. “It was always her time to die, Devlin. Her destiny was to be your sister and start a magically powerful bloodline. Go in peace knowing she has fulfilled her life’s purpose.”