Shades of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  “I don’t know. We’ll find out soon enough. I’ve asked everyone to be there in thirty minutes or so. See you there.” Juliet rang off.

  Thirty minutes? Juliet wasn’t wasting time. Anabel turned to tell Tyler and then realized he was gone. Not only that, but she had no idea how to summon him back, or even if that was possible.

  All she could do was try. If that didn’t work, she’d have to go meet Juliet and the coven by herself.

  Taking a deep breath, she sat cross-legged in the middle of her floor. Then she closed her eyes, chanting the single word that had become a new mantra of sorts. Focus. She pulled inward, shutting down each and every stray thought the instant it occurred.

  Finally, she reached that place she considered to be the center of her being, the spot where all her energy lived. Now she must gather and weave, sending tendrils outward, hopefully crossing the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the spirit. To wherever Tyler resided.

  She wasn’t sure this was the way to do this, nor had she seen anything in any of the books on how to contact a ghost. Just in case, she tried calling his name, raising her volume with each cry.

  Tyler. Inhale. Exhale. Tyler. Again. And once more. Tyler.

  Nothing. She didn’t sense him or feel him or, when she opened her eyes, see him. It was as if he’d gone so completely into that other dimension that he’d severed all ties to earth and her.

  Crud. Disappointment made her throat ache. She got up, dusted her hands off on her jeans. He’d show up when he was ready to. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about that.

  “Tyler,” she said out loud, speaking to an empty room. “If you can hear me, I’m leaving in a minute to meet with Juliet’s coven. They’re going to try and help. Juliet said she’d really like it if you could be there.”

  Again, nothing but silence answered her. She even felt slightly foolish, aware of the fact that if anyone from town were to have seen what she just did, they’d consider her certifiable. Of course, even if Tyler had actually been here, as far as the casual observer would have been concerned, she’d have appeared to be conversing with empty air.

  Forget them. She was tired of their condemnation without proof. And the fact that some total stranger had them believing his pack of lies, without them even asking her, made her aware that she needed to take a stand.

  Once she saved Tyler’s sister, that was. Then she’d deal with the small stuff.

  Grabbing her car keys from the counter, she called Tyler once more and then scribbled a quick note before she headed for her car. The changing tree was about fifteen minutes away, but she figured she’d be a few minutes early so she’d have time to collect her thoughts.

  And deal with the memories.

  She considered those as she drove to the out-of-the-way spot. When she and David had first started dating, they often participated in pack hunts. They both found the mating ritual for wolves much more exciting—and fun—than the long, drawn-out courtship humans endured.

  They’d run and played, nipping each other playfully in their wolf form. He’d often brought her his first kill, a particularly juicy rabbit most times. And how great she’d felt the time she beat him and had been the one to gift him with her own small game.

  Together as wolves, they’d been quite the hunters. She firmly believed this had strengthened their human relationship.

  And the changing tree was where they’d made love for the first time. Where she’d secretly hoped to conceive their baby. Though it hadn’t happened, more than ever she wished they’d had a child together. One way to keep a part of him with her always.

  David had also proposed here. Right there, kneeling close to one of the giant roots. Anabel had accepted, and once he slipped the ring on her finger, they’d made love in the shade of the old oak.

  Sorrow stabbed her. No wonder she’d avoided this place.

  As she pulled up in front of the massive oak tree and parked, she closed her eyes. The tree looked exactly the same, just the way the image of it had been burned into her memory. Throat tight, she eyed the twisted branches, the weathered bark and the lush canopy of vibrant green leaves. Juliet was right. It was a place of power. This was the reason the Pack had changed her, going as far back as when the town of Leaning Tree had been established in the 1700s.

  Glad hers was the only car in the small parking lot, she got out, last year’s dead leaves cracking underfoot as she walked slowly down the winding path toward the huge and ancient tree.

  Now that she’d become slightly more attuned to such things, the power radiating from the tree made her skin tingle.

  “Wow,” a voice said from behind her. “The changing tree. It’s been so long, I forgot how much I’d missed this place.”

  Tyler. Relieved, Anabel turned. “I tried to contact you before I left. I wasn’t able to. So I left you a note.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his deep voice both soothing and sexy. “I didn’t go by the house. I just searched for your energy and came and found you. Why are you here?”

  She explained about Juliet and the coven. “They should be here in a few minutes.”

  Turning back to the tree, she made a slow circle around the massive trunk. With a reverent touch, she laid her hand on the rough bark, feeling the life energy radiating from the oak. “It’s so old,” she said, her eyes unexpectedly stinging. “I can only imagine what kind of life it’s seen.”

  Tyler watched her rather than the tree, his gaze shuttered. Something in his haunted expression made her shiver. “The Pack has made sure this tree has been taken care of over the years.”

  She nodded, stopping at the exact spot where David had knelt in the leaves. To her surprise, while she felt the sorrow of an old, precious memory now gone, the crushing pain seemed to have faded.

  Life moved on. She’d begun to finally make that journey toward healing.

  Another vehicle pulled into the parking lot. Juliet’s green Volkswagen. Anabel waved, just as two more cars drove around the corner and parked next to Juliet.

  Juliet and another woman got out of the car. Anabel didn’t recognize the tall, silver-haired woman, though she admired her grace and the smoothness of her dusky complexion.

  Including Anabel, there were seven women in attendance. Most of them wore their hair long. There were only two older women, Juliet and her companion. Anabel waited silently, a bit tense, as they all convened on the changing tree.

  “Hello,” she ventured, when they were close. “Juliet, I had no idea there would be so many of you.”

  “Our entire coven,” Juliet said, beaming. “Let me introduce you. Everyone, this is Anabel Lee. She’s the one I told you about, the one who can talk to ghosts.”

  Everyone stared at her. Anabel waited for the familiar distrust to cloud the others’ expressions. Instead they all murmured serene greetings, dipping their chins as Juliet said each of their names, still smiling. None of them appeared offended by her presence. In fact, they gave off a completely welcoming—even sisterly—vibe.

  Stunned, Anabel tried not to show her shock. As she’d realized earlier, she’d grown far too complacent about letting the townspeople of Leaning Tree treat her poorly. Luckily, she didn’t have that problem with these women.

  “Blessed be,” several said at once. Anabel wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she simply nodded.

  She didn’t know what she’d expected with meeting a coven of witches. A group of calm and centered, mostly middle-aged ladies hadn’t been exactly the first thing that came to mind.

  Granted, she had no experience with this type of thing. Her perceptions were based on what she’d seen on television and in movies or read in books.

  Knowing that according to Juliet, Anabel herself was descended from a line of powerful witches didn’t help. Actually, she thought, eyeing them a
s they held their hands out to her so they could make a circle around the tree, she was glad for the complete lack of drama. And if there was one thing she’d come to despise in her life, drama would rank right up there on top.

  Still, she mused. They were witches and there was magic involved. She supposed she expected something.

  Sliding her hand into Juliet’s cool one, she reached out to connect with the woman waiting patiently on her other side.

  Chapter 10

  A flash of movement caught her attention. Tyler. His set face, clamped mouth and tight jaw showed his irritation at being left out of the circle. She wished he could be included. But then, Anabel didn’t think any of the others could see him, except for Juliet.

  “An orb,” the dusky-skinned woman breathed, pointing directly at Tyler. “I think we’re being visited by a spirit.”

  She sounded so delighted and excited that Anabel couldn’t help grinning.

  “Didn’t you tell them?” she asked Juliet.

  “No. Not yet. All in good time,” Juliet said, one corner of her mouth lifting as if she tried to hide a smile.

  One of the women—Anabel couldn’t remember her name but judged her to be the oldest one there—cleared her throat loudly. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  A silence fell. One by one, they nodded. Again, the overall mood felt solemn and respectful.

  Except for Tyler, glowering at her. Clearly, he hated not being able to participate.

  Giving in to impulse, she broke contact with the woman on her right and held out her hand to Tyler. “Come join us,” she said, smiling.

  One of the women gasped, to be shushed immediately by Juliet. Needing no second urging, Tyler came to stand beside Anabel, gripping her hand with his.

  This time, his fingers didn’t go through hers. Once again, Anabel could actually feel his touch. As if he were solid. As if he were alive. Just like when he’d kissed her. A thrill ran through her at the notion.

  Just as instantly, she squashed it. “Is everyone ready?” she asked, looking pointedly at the woman on her right, who needed to be holding Tyler’s other hand.

  This woman—called Mary, if Anabel remembered correctly—gave her a perplexed look. “Will you take my hand again?” she asked. Clearly, she could not see or sense Tyler at all.

  “Tyler, can you hold her hand?” Anabel wasn’t sure how this worked. Was she the only one to whom he could appear solid?

  “I can try.” Confidence rang in his voice. He reached for Mary’s fingers. And his hand went right through hers.

  “I feel a chill.” Eyes wide, Mary shivered. “Is that orb you guys claimed you could see near me?”

  “Tyler is not an orb,” Juliet told them, her voice firm. “He’s a spirit and he’s here with us right now.”

  Mary gasped, her gaze darting left and then right. “What...what does he want?”

  “He needs our help to find his missing sister,” Juliet continued. “He is, in fact, the reason we’re here. Now please push your fear away and see if you and he can complete the circle. Take his hand.”

  “You want me to touch a...a ghost?” Mary sounded terrified.

  “He won’t hurt you, I promise.” Anabel gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m holding his hand right now. Won’t you please at least try?”

  Grimacing, the woman glanced at her friends, maybe hoping for support, maybe for encouragement. No one else spoke, though the other women appeared to wait with an air of calm reassurance.

  Finally, Mary took a deep breath and held out her hand. “Go ahead,” she said, gazing up at empty air. “Take it.” She glanced at Anabel. “Will I be able to feel— Oh!”

  Anabel smiled. Apparently, Tyler’s strange ability to ground himself more in this world temporarily enabled the other woman to feel his touch, as well.

  “Are we ready now?” Juliet asked. Her voice sounded richer and more confident than Anabel had ever heard her. The voice of a woman of power.

  Murmurs of assent came from the group. They’d barely died out when Juliet began chanting. The other women picked up the chant with her, making Anabel wonder if they’d memorized the words.

  Only Anabel and Tyler remained silent. Beside her, Tyler still felt disturbingly solid, as if she could lean over and lick the corded muscles of his neck.

  Shocked, she nearly jerked her hand free. Where had that thought come from? No matter. She had more important things to think about than her totally unrealistic attraction to a ghost.

  Focus. Even as she thought the word, Anabel saw the power begin to coalesce in the air. Sparkling, like a braided rope made from lightning, it coiled around the circle of women and then from there, around the massive base of the tree.

  Her very skin felt electrified. Sizzling. She fought the urge to break contact with the others, somehow aware if she did, this—whatever this was—would disappear.

  Yet while she felt its power, she had no idea of its purpose. Surely Juliet or someone knew. Maybe they’d clue her in soon.

  All of the energy vibrating in the air made her dizzy and she briefly closed her eyes. When she did, instead of the blessed cool darkness, the face of the dragon appeared. And his obsidian eyes were fixed directly on her.

  She supposed she screamed. At least, she tried to. But when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. Something wrapped around her throat, crushing her breath. Dragon claws, huge filthy talons, tearing into her skin and making her bleed, even as she choked.

  Struggling, she tried to fight. As her vision grayed, the notion flashed at her that she was not fighting with her physical self when the attack was in another realm entirely.

  Help. She needed help. Yet she couldn’t even open her eyes. Tyler still held one hand, one of the witches the other. What was wrong with them? Could they not see she was in trouble?

  Focus.

  The single word gave clarity to her panicked thoughts. Focus. Yet how could she when she could barely breathe?

  Power shot through her, almost as if she’d been struck by lightning. She jolted up, conscious that she must not, no matter what, break the circle.

  The power sent the Drakkor backward, breaking his death grip on her. She gasped, sucking in air, shaky and grateful and so damn full of energy she thought that if she were to launch herself into the air after her enemy, she could fly.

  Who knew? Maybe she could.

  The Drakkor roared, a sound of frustration and fury. Any moment she expected fire to shoot from his mouth.

  As he retreated, she knew that if she was ever going to locate Tyler’s sister, she needed to follow him, somehow.

  Taking a leap of faith, she jerked her hands free and jumped into the air. To her relief, she lifted, flying steady and straight, almost as if she had wings or a jet pack on her back.

  Ahead of her, the Drakkor flew like lightning. She increased her speed enough to be able to keep him in sight, but not so much that she grew close enough for him to notice. And then what? Once she found his lair—or perfectly ordinary house, which might very well be the case—what did she plan to do?

  The safest thing might be to note the location.

  Even as she had this thought, the beast turned. Terrible jaws open in a furious roar, it headed straight at her.

  Anabel had no weapon with which to fight. Acting on instinct, she stifled a scream and threw up her hands in defense.

  Energy whiplashed from her palms, like some fantastical movie special effects. Directing it on her attacker, she bared her teeth. She slammed her power into him, hoping, praying this—whatever this was—would work. And stop him.

  Apparently, it did. The Drakkor struggled, roaring in defiance, unable to reach her. Unable, that was, as long as her power held.

  Suddenly, she noticed what a drain this took on her energy. The vitality leached
from her, more and more with every second that passed. If the Drakkor realized this, all he’d have to do would be to wait her out.

  And then what? Most likely she would die here, wherever she was. Alone, taking Dena’s last chance at salvation with her.

  Decision made, she knew she had to flee, to get back to the safety of the coven, to find Tyler and Juliet and the others.

  But how to beat a retreat while holding her enemy at bay?

  The Drakkor roared again, launching himself at her. She could feel herself growing weak and knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him off too much longer.

  She thought of the others, hands linked in a circle around the ancient oak tree. Willed herself there, with every fiber of untapped power that might be left inside of her.

  And just like that, she hurtled through space, so quickly even the stars became a blur. Until she found herself lying on the soft earth at the base of the tree, dead leaves crackling under her.

  * * *

  Tyler had sensed something might be wrong with Anabel when her small hand jerked in his. He glanced at her, finding her utterly still, with her eyes closed. Just like, he thought, glancing around the circle, all the others.

  He wondered if the others could see the power shimmering like a golden rope made of sparks. As he watched, fascinated, it circled the tree and them. The hair on the women’s heads danced with an electrical beat, and their skin seemed to sizzle. Apparently, this didn’t hurt. Not one person moved. Yet despite all the stillness, he sensed Anabel had gone a different kind of quiet.

  It was dangerous to break the circle. He dared not let go. His own ethereal body appeared unaffected.

  The chant ended. Still the women stood, silent and still as statues. Anabel swayed, her mouth opening as if she meant to speak, but no sound came out.

  Concerned, he watched her. He felt as if, more than ever, the importance of not breaking the circle overrode everything else.

  She began to thrash, side to side, swaying like a hammock between the hands holding on to hers. Tyler remained solid—this was the longest he’d ever been able to do this, which he figured was due to the power generated by their circle and the tree.