Unbreakable (Waifwater Chronicles Book 1)

by Laken Cane

  Unbreakable

  By Laken Cane

  Copyright © 2016 Laken Cane

  All rights reserved.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. Ebook copies may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share with a friend, please buy an extra copy, and thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  For more information about the author, you can find her online at

  www.lakencane.com,

  www.facebook.com/laken.cane.3,

  www.twitter.com/lakencane,

  www.amazon.com/author/lakencane

  Dedications

  To those who like a little romance with their paranormal <3

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author-

  Chapter One

  “I don’t know what else to do. You have to help me, Ms. Cameron.” The girl, her face tearstained and pale, reached out to touch Abby’s hands.

  Abby tilted her head so her thick, purple-tinged hair slid over her face—a habit she was barely aware of, then stood and began pacing the worn wood floor. “Please. Call me Abby. I’m not sure what to do, hon. I think you should go to the police.”

  Brooke snorted, then began crying again. “They won’t help. They can’t help. Eli Dean is a powerful wolf.” She waved a carefully manicured hand. “Even you have to know the local police force does not like to get involved in the business of its non-human citizens.”

  Yes, even she knew.

  But the local sheriff had also helped her once upon a time, when she’d needed him. He hadn’t been Waifwater’s sheriff back then, but he’d helped her.

  She still owed him for that particular debt.

  Brooke stood suddenly and lifted her top, baring ribs covered with bright, angry bruises. “See what he did? I have to get away from him and the pack. If I don’t go into hiding…” She stopped suddenly and dropped her shirt back into place, avoiding Abby’s gaze.

  “What?” Abby asked. “Tell me, Brooke.”

  Finally, Brooke looked at Abby, her eyes clear, honest, and almost completely devoid of hope. “Eli is going to rape me. He’s going to pass me around to the subordinates, and after they’ve tired of me, he’s going to kill me.”

  Abby swayed and caught the back of a chair.

  “Eli is going to rape me…”

  “Ms. Cameron, are you okay?” Brooke reached out a hand, then withdrew it.

  “He can’t do that,” Abby muttered. But he was a Dean, and she knew well of what the Deans were capable.

  Of what people were capable.

  She touched her face.

  A lot of people had tried to break her. A Dean, a demon witch, her father…

  But they had not broken her.

  She was unbreakable.

  And don’t you forget it.

  Brooke’s smile was sad. “Oh, yes he can. He’s our alpha. He can do anything he wants to us. It’s the pack way.” She shrugged. “He mellowed a few years ago when he started sneaking around with that bitch, Andrea Cramer. Did you hear about that?”

  “Yes.” Everyone had been talking about it. The wolf alpha dating a human was one thing—the werewolf council would likely have overlooked it had the lovers been more discreet—but the council heard that Eli was actually considering marrying her.

  That, some of the clients had told Abby, was what Andrea had boasted on her blog and YouTube channel.

  Marriage between a wolf and a human was not allowed.

  Never had been, never would be.

  A human would never rule a wolf pack. Not alone, not at a wolf’s side.

  Eli Dean had gone before the council, and when he’d finally been released and reestablished as the Black Feather Pack leader, it had been without Andrea.

  She’d disappeared. Gossip was that she’d been paid—a lot—to go far, far away.

  But some people said she’d been murdered.

  “I don’t care if it’s the pack way,” Abby murmured. “It’s not right.”

  “Maybe not, but our laws are our own. No one cares. And if you don’t help me, I’m doomed.”

  Shit. Abby closed her eyes to shut out the girl’s terrified face.

  She shouldn’t interfere with the wolves. Ordinarily she wouldn’t—no matter what she heard or saw or knew—but that time it was different. There was a wolf girl begging her for help. Begging her to save her.

  From rape.

  She wasn’t a wolf, or a stranger, or off limits.

  She was a woman begging another woman to save her.

  Abby opened her eyes, balled her fist, and smacked the wall.

  “Abby?”

  “I’ll help you,” she said.

  “Oh. Oh my God, you will? You really will?” Brooke put her knuckles to her lips and began sobbing. “Oh, you will. You will.”

  Abby reached out to pat the distressed girl on the shoulder. “Hush now. You’ll be all right.”

  And as soon as she made the decision, as soon as she made the promise, she was all in. “Come.” She strode across the floor of her small house. “We must get started immediately.”

  “Wait,” Brooke said, with a watery smile. She dragged her big purse off the table, withdrew a wad of bills, and held them out to Abby. “Take the money. I know you live off the generosity of your clients, and for something this huge, I don’t aim to stiff you.”

  Abby hesitated, then nodded. “I’m very grateful. Thank you.” She took the money and stuck it inside the wooden box on her fireplace mantel. “Follow me.”

  She didn’t ask how much was there. Accepting money for helping an abused girl made her feel…icky.

  But she had few choices when it came to making money, and Brooke was right. She did live off the generosity of her clients.

  She didn’t have set prices for what she did—it was understood that they would pay her what they decided the reading, or the healing spell, or the love potion was worth to them.

  Sometimes she received mere pennies, but for the most part, those who came to see her were very generous.

  Brooke followed her from the room, her breathing quick, her footsteps light. She was a small thing, with shiny blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said, again and again, as they hurried down the short hallway.

  When she reached the end of the hallway, Abby pulled back the heavy black drapes hanging there and motioned the girl into the curtained off area. “Sit on the bench, hon.”

  “Wow,” Brooke breathed. “Holy wow.” She put a delicate hand to her chest and looked around, her eyes wide.

  Abby let the drapes settle back into place and walked into the alcove. She understood Brooke’s awe. The spell room was full of magic, darkness, and mystery.

  Above them, an endless night sky was lit with tiny, twinkling stars, framing a crescent moon. An inextinguishable fire blazed cheerily
a short distance away, and a large, black pot bubbled busily in its midst.

  “But how?” Brooke asked. “When you pulled back the curtain, this was just a tiny room. And now…” She shook her head. “It’s a world. How?”

  Abby smiled. She didn’t take many clients into the spell room, but when she did, they all reacted the same way.

  One of the cats, Jasmint, leapt to the bench beside Brooke. The girl shrieked and jumped away from the animal, nearly falling over her own feet.

  Abby snorted. “A wolf afraid of a little cat. Jasmint won’t hurt you, Brooke. Sit down.”

  But Brooke was too curious to sit. She turned in circles, her gaze darting from one object to the other.

  “What a fantastic hiding place this would be,” she murmured. “It’s like a whole different world.” She shot Abby a quick glance. “All your property would make an excellent hiding place, though, wouldn’t it?”

  “Nope,” Abby replied. “My hollow is dangerous to outsiders. The animals would chase a trespasser away no matter where you hid. You need to get out of Waifwater, Brooke. You can’t hide here.”

  Brooke smiled. “Of course.” Then she pointed to a long, ornate door in the distance, beyond the fire. “What’s through that door?”

  Abby flinched and turned toward the door. “You can see the door?”

  “Sure. There’s like an outline of yellow light around it.”

  Abby mumbled under her breath and backed away from Brooke. The spell was wearing thin, and that was her fault. “Brooke, sit down or leave the room.”

  Brooke sat, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

  Abby strode toward the door and pulled her wand from her pocket. Finally, almost afraid to turn her back to the nosy wolf, she waved her wand at the door and muttered under her breath.

  “It’s gone,” Brooke exclaimed. “The door disappeared.”

  “There was no door.” Abby hurried back to the fire. “You imagined it.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said. “If you say so.” She sat gingerly on the bench, recoiling from Jasmint.

  Jasmint licked a paw, her stare on the frightened girl.

  “Jas, behave,” Abby said.

  “I’d heard your cats were demons—and that they’d tried to eat a few of your clients.”

  “Gossip and lies,” Abby said, back to her cheerful self. “Shall we get started?” She could not stay morose in the spell room. It was dark, and she loved the dark. It was peaceful, and its air was pure. The moon above was bright and the sky vast.

  There were few places she’d rather have been than the spell room.

  “Yes, let’s,” Brooke answered. “I want to be far away from Waifwater before Eli finishes his hunt tonight. When he gets back from a hunting trip, he’s always full of vigor and…” she trailed off, shuddering.

  Abby could imagine. She put a hand to her stomach, trying to ease the painful tightness. Then she turned her head and spat on the ground. “Eli Dean will be lucky if he escapes this night unscathed.”

  Brooke’s mouth opened. “What do you mean?”

  Abby lifted her chin. “Karma is a bitch.” She smiled, then shook her hair over her face when Brooke recoiled.

  She walked to the altar before the inextinguishable fire, where she chose a cup and a small bag of dried herbs. Then she lifted the long handled dipper from the coffin nail on the fire post.

  She lowered the dipper into the pot, then poured its contents into the cup. As the liquid swirled, she sprinkled in some of the herbs. She watched as it hit the liquid, sparked, then quieted.

  The liquid cooled immediately.

  She dropped the bag into the pocket of her cardigan, hung the dipper back on its nail, then held the cup between her palms, chanting.

  She closed her eyes and sent her energy into the cup, into the liquid, her power combining with the herbs to once more bring the liquid to a boil.

  The cup remained cool.

  She whispered steadily, her concentration complete, urging power into the cup’s contents.

  Her words were nonsensical. It wasn’t the words that mattered—only her voice and her thoughts mattered. Her energy.

  Power.

  So much power.

  It sang through her blood and body and brain and made her shiver with delight. It exited, some of it, into the cup, and she was reluctant to let it go. But keeping it would have been selfish and would not have helped the girl.

  So she released the energy, the power, the magic, into the cup.

  And finally, she relaxed, sighed, and turned toward Brooke. “It’s ready.”

  Brooke licked her lips. “I have to drink that?”

  “You do.”

  Brooke took the cup, holding it between both her palms as Abby had done. She shuddered. “I can feel it spreading through my hands.” She looked up at Abby, her eyes dilated, though she wouldn’t have known that. “I drink it?”

  Abby nodded. “Drink,” she urged.

  Brooke continued staring up at her for a moment, dazed. Finally, she looked at the cup as though seeing it for the first time. She hesitated, then put it to her lips and took a tiny sip.

  “Do not drink slowly,” Abby admonished. “Down it goes. Quickly, now.” She didn’t touch the cup while Brooke held it. It belonged to the girl. Touching it after Brooke had would drain it of its power.

  There was no need, anyway. After her first tentative sip, Brooke made an appreciative sound and gulped the contents. She wiped her mouth. “That was delicious. May I have more?”

  Abby laughed and took the cup. She’d purify it before using it again. “Greedy girl. No, you may not. You’ve had more than enough.”

  Brooke got unsteadily to her feet. “Am I okay to drive? I feel…drunk. God, I feel great.”

  “Those effects will wear off before you leave my house.”

  “What will it do for me? How will it protect me from my alpha?”

  Abby held out a hand. “Come. I’ll explain as I walk you to your car.”

  Brooke seemed reluctant to leave, as all the clients were, and Abby couldn’t blame her. The spell room was calming, safe, and stress-relieving. Inside the spell room, people could hide from the world and all its worries.

  They could explore mysteries their days and nights no longer held.

  “The spell is only temporary,” Abby said. “It will dissolve in approximately a week. Your scent will be hidden from all. You will be hidden. People will see you, but unless you specifically speak to them and draw their attention, they won’t know they’re seeing you.”

  Brooke put her hand to her chest. “Invisible? I’ll be invisible? You’re sure?”

  Abby shrugged. “Not really. As I said—keep your mouth shut and those you do not wish to see you will not see you.”

  “The fade spell,” Brooke whispered. “You’ve really given me the fade spell.”

  Abby frowned, suddenly uneasy. “How do you know about the fade spell?”

  Brooke smoothed her hand down her shirt. “I’ve heard of it. I thought it was just made up. An urban legend. We talk about fade spells in the pack, some of us. We talk about you, too.”

  “You must not tell anyone about this night, Brooke.”

  “Oh!” Brooke’s eyes widened and she pursed her lips.

  “What?”

  “If no one can see me, I could check out Waifwater Woods, couldn’t I?”

  “Don’t be foolish. It doesn’t matter if you’ll be scentless and invisible. If you go into those woods, you won’t come back out.”

  Brooke tossed her a quick, white smile. “Don’t be upset. I was only joking.”

  But Abby wasn’t so sure.

  Waifwater Woods was a tiny, wooded area just outside town. It contained swamps, dead trees, and stolen bodies of people who’d gone inside and had never come out. The area was surrounded by high fences and warning signs but still some brave—and foolhardy—people continued to try to figure it out. No one ever did.

  The deadly woods were just another qu
irk, albeit a deadly one, in the strange town of Waifwater.

  Abby pushed open the door and breathed a sigh of relief when Brooke, full of energy and power, jogged to her car.

  “We talk about you, too.”

  She didn’t want anyone talking about her—especially not to a man whose last name was Dean.

  She shut the door and then leaned against it, her stomach fluttering. She could only hope she’d done the right thing.

  “I did do the right thing,” she told Desmond, another of the cats, as he leapt to the table. “I saved a girl from…” But she didn’t finish the sentence. Not out loud.

  It wasn’t like the spell would be forever. If by some chance Brooke had pulled one over on her and went to rob a bank or something…

  But the deed was done.

  If the girl did what she was supposed to do, she’d escape the terrible alpha of the Black Feather Pack.

  “I did the right thing,” Abby told herself, and feeling a little better, went to dye her hair a different color. It had been purple long enough.

  Chapter Two

  Three days later, the frantic howls of her two coonhounds yanked her abruptly from a deep, satisfying sleep. She was wide awake immediately and tossed a look at the clock.

  Seven o’clock.

  In the morning.

  It might not have been so bad but four hours earlier the dogs had awakened her as they sprinted out of the yard, chasing whatever intruder had dared step foot on her property.

  They’d barked all the way down the hollow, as they did when they were rushing to catch the mailman as he hurriedly stuffed junk mail into her box.

  It didn’t matter how distant the intrusion—if someone walked or drove or so much as stuck a toe anywhere in her hollow, the dogs knew.

  And now it was seven o’clock, and she had visitors. Sadie and Elmer weren’t chasing off a sneaky trespasser—they were alerting her to company.

  It was too early for clients. Besides, all her clients knew to call before visiting.

  She did take walk-ins, but only for those who were in dire need, like Brooke, who’d been too anxious and desperate to call for an appointment.

  She leaned against her bed for a long moment, a hand to her stomach. She wasn’t getting a good feeling.