by SJ Himes
“Here is the dining room,” Kane said, opening one tall wooden door. Ghost peered around the doorframe, and took in the long room. It had one wall of tall windows that overlooked a snow-laden expanse, and was full of tables big enough for a dozen wolfkin apiece. He couldn’t count high enough to determine how many tables there were, but he figured the room could hold a couple hundred wolfkin at capacity.
There were wolfkin already seated, eating and talking in small groups and pairs. Swinging doors on the far side of the dining room opened up into what he could guess to be the kitchen, enticing smells making him step around the door and into the room. His stomach growled and Kane put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the door.
“Hungry?” Kane teased, and Ghost huffed out a short laugh.
“I was ambushed this morning and now I’m starving,” Ghost teased. Kane gave him a swift, bruising kiss before leading him around tables, heading for one that sat beneath the windows. Kane ushered him into a seat, and Ghost looked around, slightly confused when Kane sat beside him. “Food?”
The tables were bare, not even silverware or napkins were on them. Kane gave him a smile and gestured to a lean beta female who was standing beside the kitchen doors. She darted through the nearest door, returning moments later with two more betas, the three of them carrying platters of steaming food and drinks. Ghost sat back, giving the betas room to put their burden of thick beef stew and warm cider down in front of him, a basket of fresh hot bread and sweet butter rounding off the offerings. Cutlery, napkins, and spare plates found places around them, and Ghost was momentarily baffled by the efficiency. Kane murmured a thank you, Ghost giving the betas a startled smile in thanks before they left as quickly as they came.
“What is the word that humans use? Servants?” Ghost asked, reaching for the bread and tearing off a piece.
Kane took a sip of his hot cider before addressing the topic. “Caius is old. Old enough to have servants back in the Old World. He’s ruled here since the Great Exodus, over 200 years ago. Many of the betas who live here in the mansion are just as old, if not older. They run things as they always have. Sophia tried to change things not long after I moved to the mansion, before she became First Beta. The other betas, both male and female, were happy with the way things were run so she backed down. No one is forced to serve—Caius has always been clear about that. Here betas without mates or powerful family packs can stay and be safe, a roof over their heads and a place to sleep at night. In return, the betas run the household.”
“So, they are not servants?”
“Would Andromeda call her children servants?” Kane retorted, and Ghost snapped his mouth shut and frowned. Andromeda had many children, and even more great and great-great-grandchildren, and they acted as the betas here did, just less formally. For the entire time Ghost was in Baxter, not once had he seen Andromeda order about or mistreat any of her family or pack. He didn’t think Caius would either, but what he was experiencing in the last day or so was different than he was used too. He sighed, thinking that his experience was truly limited, and he might do better thinking before assuming.
A warm breeze caressed his cheek gently, ruffling the napkin beside his plate, and he sighed, reaching for his food before he stuck his foot in his mouth again.
“I guess…I just see more of humanity in the clans than I expected,” Ghost mused, attacking his beef stew, digging out a chunk of meat with his fingers as he spoke. “This reminds me strongly of this TV show Cat used to watch about nobles and servants. I just…assumed.”
“It’s okay, little wolf. Believe me when I say that no one is here doing something they don’t want. With our noses, it would be hard to miss or ignore another wolf’s misery. I wouldn’t ignore such a sorry state, nor would Caius. The exception is personal relationships, and we only intervene if we suspect abuse. Caius is more remote than Andromeda, but he does look after his people.”
Ghost nodded, and Kane rubbed a big hand down his shoulder and back before returning to eating. Ghost devoured his stew completely before he remembered to use his spoon and fork, and he licked off his fingers in appreciation. A new bowl found its way in front of him, a sneaky beta swiping his empty bowl and even giving him a new mug of cider. A wink and a cocky smile told him that he hadn’t been all that quiet, and Ghost found himself in the odd position of being embarrassed.
“Eat up, little wolf.” Kane chuckled, and Ghost nudged him with his elbow. He remembered to use his spoon this time, and ate a bit slower.
A familiar wolfkin drew his eye to the door. Burke smiled as he was greeted by several wolfkin present, and he stopped to talk with a few before making his way over to their table. Burke sat across from them, getting the same treatment from the ever-watchful betas. He thanked them and dug in, devouring his fresh bread in two bites.
“Any news from the scouts Caius sent out?” Kane asked, and Burke shrugged as he swallowed.
“I’m keeping tabs on them,” Burke said, tapping his temple with a long finger, “But so far they’ve found nothing. No clues at the warehouse destroyed by the gas leak, either. Caius sent out five pairs, and they’ve managed to explore over half the Augusta sites on the list. No scent markers, no mental contact.”
“The human slavers we rescued Gabe from used silver to dampen the wolves’ mental voices,” Kane said, pushing his empty bowl away. “We can’t guarantee that the scouts can hear them if the missing wolves are there.”
Burke frowned, but nodded in agreement. “That’s why the scouts are going by scent. They aren’t moving on from a location until it’s been thoroughly searched. The places with humans present are taking longer. We don’t need the police involved.”
“Can’t you hear them?” Ghost asked, and Burke gave him a startled glance.
“If I knew who I was listening for, yes,” Burke said slowly, fidgeting with a fork. “If I open my mind, I can hear every wolfkin within a few hundred square miles, maybe more. The problem is, there are different clans and packs within that radius. I can’t just blunder into the clan and pack mental links without causing mayhem. I need to be invited into a mental link, the framework that each alpha or clan leader holds. I can burst my way in, but that’ll cause significant trouble—well, more like utter diplomatic chaos. And since I don’t know the wolves still missing, I can’t search for their individual minds. And if they are drugged with silver like we suspect, then the likelihood of even a Speaker reaching them is almost nonexistent. That’s why we’re doing this the old-fashioned way—with our noses.”
“How does it work?” Ghost asked, leaning forward.
“How does what work?” Burke replied, confused.
“The gift of command. I know clan leaders and heirs and Speakers all have it to some degree, but I don’t know the details.”
“There’s different types of mental links we create among our people,” Burke said. “Some are clan links, mental connections a clan leader maintains with the clan he or she leads. Those are born through repeated mental contact and familiarity. Friends develop similar links over years, even if they are in separate clans. Depending on the strength of the clan leader involved, he can either maintain a subconscious link without active contact with a few wolves or up to a hundred different minds. Some clan leaders and pack alphas can only reach a few minds, and rely on Speakers to keep tabs on the clan.”
“Like you,” Ghost said. Burke nodded.
“Yes. Black Pine is a bit different, though. Caius has a moderate range with his gift of command—I just make things easier on him. When Kane becomes clan leader, I’d be more of a help to him than I am to Caius. I just make things easier, more efficient.”
“Are there other types of mental links?”
“There are. There’s blood—minds joined by family connections. Caius and Kane are cousins, though very distant, and they have a faint blood bond made deeper by the clan bonds and the bond they share
as Leader and Heir. There’s mating links,” Burke said, winking at Ghost. “Both regular matings and soulbonds have the mental connection. A soulbond, from what I can tell just by looking at the two of you, is on a deeper and more steady level than a normal mate link.”
“Blood, clan, and mate.”
“Yup.”
“Can Gabe search for his family? How strong is his gift of command?” Ghost asked, and Burke blinked at him in surprise before the Speaker turned to Kane.
“He’d have the same issues with the silver poisoning, but he might recognize their minds far faster than I would,” Burke said to Kane. “The cub is a greater alpha. It’s worth a try.”
“I’ll run it by Caius, see if we can get Gabe out on one of the scouting teams if they don’t have any luck,” Kane replied, brow furrowed. “He’s still fragile after what happened, and he has minimal control over the Voice. I think he needs to be a last resort.”
Ghost sat back in his seat, fiddling with his spoon. Something was off. He felt like he was missing something, but he didn’t know enough about his people to even guess what it might be.
The day went by slowly, too slow for Ghost’s peace of mind. He languished on a soft leather couch in Caius’ study, his grandfather, Kane, and Burke talking with Gabe by the huge desk. Their discussion was on the merits of Gabe joining the search teams, and Gabe was getting a crash course on keeping control of the Voice.
“If you get worked up while searching with the scouts, you can end up unleashing your gift on them and endangering everyone,” Caius warned Gabe, who bit his lip, nodding once, reluctant. “Emotions make it harder to control. You can hurt wolves around you if you don’t know what you’re doing. You saw Roan at the Tribunal. The Voice is dangerous.”
Gabe paled, and nodded quickly, eyes wide. Ghost sympathized with his friend, but he had no clue how the Voice worked either, and his input would merely distract Gabe.
He looked out the window nearest the couch, from his angle able to see the clear dark blue of the evening sky. Twilight was still swift this time of year, though the days were getting longer, the sun slowly melting away the snow. Spring was coming.
The couch beneath him was soft, warm. The room smelled like family and mate and pack. The mansion still didn’t feel like home, but the familiarity was increasing. He caught hints of memories as he walked along hallways, passing doors that led to rooms that looked different but felt familiar. Kane said that he once lived with his immediate family in a place not far from the mansion, but somehow, he thought they spent more time here than they did in the home he couldn’t even recall.
He rolled onto his side, nose pressed to the cushion. He was tired. Waiting was exhausting.
Wind pulled at his hair, tangling it in front of his eyes. He pushed it back, the vista in front of him strange yet familiar.
The wide, flat tree stump was the same, the snow around it patchy instead of a solid blanket of white. Green grass and small, colorful flowers shyly peeked out between patches of ice. There was a path beneath his feet, alternating between bare, damp earth and thin layers of snow.
Spring was encroaching on the winter meadow, the air was less biting, softer. It was still cold, but it didn’t touch him—he was aware of the chill yet untouched.
There was a lone track of footprints in the path before him; large wolf tracks that changed every few steps into bare human prints and then back to wolf. He tilted his head, listening, but heard nothing but the wind and the rustle of branches above him. He followed the path, taking care not to step on the tracks. It led him to the center of the meadow; he sat on the stump, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
The sky above was a field of brilliant light, more stars than a mortal could count in a lifetime sparkling and shining down. The horizon glowed gold and orange, and he could not tell if it was dawn or sunset. Considering where he was, it might well be both at once.
A whimper nearby was a surprise—a gray wolf stood not far from him. Larger than him by half, this wolf was every shade of gray, from dusky charcoal to misty tones just shy of white, eyes that glowed silver and reflected the light of the heavens. His coloration made him fade in and out, Ghost’s mortal eyes somehow insufficient to see the wolf in all his glory.
“Hello,” Ghost said, curious. He held out his hand, palm up, and the great head dipped to sniff his fingers. A warm tongue darted out, licking his hand, and Ghost laughed. He scratched the big gray wolf behind his ears and down his back, the wolf dancing on happy paws at the attention. He almost got knocked off the stump when the wolf sat in front of him, and Ghost crossed his legs and let the big beast rest his head in his lap.
He tugged gently on one big, pointed ear, and his heart ached sharply for a second. The wolf rolled an exasperated eye up at him, giving a great sigh of fondness. Shiny eyes closed as he continued scratching and petting.
“He was most impatient,” a voice chided fondly from over his shoulder. “I bid him wait, but this one always took his own path.”
She came from around the stump and sat beside him, the wide surface more than enough room to hold them both. She smiled at the wolf at Ghost’s feet, shaking Her head with a chuckle. “You two are so similar. Stubborn and bold.”
A silver eye cracked open in a brief wink before closing again, happy rumbles coming from a deep chest as Ghost kept up the scratches, fingers digging through thick, soft fur.
“Why am I here?” Ghost asked, meeting Her endless gaze directly. The infinite lived in Her eyes, a celestial vista that matched the one that spun above their heads.
“You tell me,” She retorted with a quirk to Her lips. A white fang flashed at him when She grinned wider. “My shamans find their way here on their own—I haven’t called a wolf across the winter meadow unless it was his or her time.”
“Why didn’t you stop Roman and Remus?” Ghost asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re present among us—your people have been killed and hunted and tortured.”
She nodded, not denying it. “I am present. I am there in every drop of blood spilled, every breath to pass across the lips of the dying. I am in every heart that fails to beat and every song that lifts in mourning for the fallen.”
He frowned, and She chuckled. “Not the answer you wanted?”
“No.”
The gray wolf rumbled affectionately, and Ghost went back to petting him.
“You want to know why I didn’t intercede directly,” She clarified, and Ghost nodded. “You think I haven’t?”
His confusion must have shown. The gray wolf stretched his muzzle out and nudged Her knee with his nose. She laughed, shaking Her head. “Very well. So impatient.”
A warm wind cut through the meadow, lifting black strands of Her hair back from Her face and shoulders. “I hear the prayers of those suffering. Those that yet live still have hope. A hope that will not be in vain if all happens as it should.”
“Do all deities speak in riddles?” Ghost asked with a frown.
“My kin are not as concerned with mortals as I am,” She replied. “My penchant for interference has drawn their ire and scorn many times. But that is not why you are here. Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?”
“That all I need to do was ask for help, and you would answer.” Ghost said quickly, recalling the last time he spoke to Her. “Help us now. Please.”
She leaned in, and rested Her head on his shoulder, a hand resting on the wolf’s head. “I have given you all that you need to save those missing and stop what is coming. Open your eyes, your heart, see past your limitations. Each one of you is part of something bigger. Wolves work best as a pack—a lone wolf rarely succeeds.”
He thought about what She said, mind whirring. “What is coming?”
“If Remus is not stopped in time, I fear the days of my wolves are numbered. He h
as what he needs already to start in motion the end of the wolfkin, though he does not know it.”
“I must tell Kane,” Ghost said, fear jumping in his heart. “I need to get back.”
“Time does not pass here, my shaman,” She comforted, and he settled. “You’ll wake in your mate’s arms soon enough.”
He sat back, and tipped his head to the sky. Stars winked and shined across the heavens, a field of unending possibilities. He could make out the hint of wolves running across the sky, a phenomenon Kane called constellations.
“We are wolves,” he murmured, and the gray wolf rumbled in agreement. “We work best together. I have what I need already.”
She hummed in agreement. “That you do, shaman.”
Ghost reexamined his past choices, the times he heard Her speaking to him, to others in his presence. “Gabe, Michael, Caius. Burke and Kane and myself. Pieces of my pack. Parts of a whole.”
She nodded, and he kept going, encouraged. “Gabe is related to the wolves still missing. Blood ties. Burke has the range. I can see their soulstars, even with their minds dulled by silver. I am soulbond to Kane, and he can use my Spiritsight. Michael has the training I lack, and can see soulstars as well. He can stop any wolfkin’s gifts in its tracks, so he can stop Gabe if he loses control. Gabe and Burke have the connections and the range and Kane can share my Spiritsight with Burke! We can find them!”
