by Sarah Beth
“So it’s like a soul mate?”
Alex inclined his head, “That would be the human term, yes.”
She hugged her tea between her hands, thinking as she stared at the dark liquid. Looking back up, she said, “But you’ve had mates before, right? You must have if you’re 400 years old.”
He nodded his head, “I’ve had lovers. I’ve had a wife. But she was human, she grew old and died. She was, in essence, my mate. She was under my protection — my wolf’s protection. But a True Mate, Abby, would have meant that my wife never would’ve died. Never would’ve grown old.”
She opened her mouth to speak, trying to understand what he just said, but he raised a hand to silence her.
“A True Mate is a strong magical bond, one that no one can explain or replicate. But when a werewolf finds their True Mate, whether that person is human, witch, or something else entirely, their life forces become intertwined. A human would become immortal, or at least age at a pace that would appear to be immortality. Because the magic that binds True Mates is unending and eternal.” He paused again, grabbing the dish towel beside him and tossing it over his shoulder. “Two humans, however, would live a normal lifespan for their species. It is only when one of the Mates is immortal, does the lifespan of the other change.”
She wasn’t sure how long she had been staring at her mug but Alex had gone back to finish the dishes. When he was done, all of the dishes sitting in the drying rack beside the sink, she asked, “How do you know if it’s a True Mate?”
He turned, leaned against the sink behind him, “They say it makes you suddenly feel alive, like you’ve been only half alive until that point. I’ve heard it described like having a rope tied from one person to the other.” A slight shrug, “I can’t tell you for certain, as I’ve never found my True Mate. But there are stories.”
She nodded her head slowly, choosing to keep her eyes focused on the tea in front of her and not on the friendly old werewolf across from her. Maybe she was reading too far into it. She hadn’t exactly been feeling all alive as Alex had put it, or unbalanced in anyway. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. But then again, every time she had looked into Wesley’s eyes the day before had made her heart do a little flip. Giving her head a good shake, Abby pushed her mug away from her and let out a quiet groan.
It was then that she could hear someone coming up the stairs from the basement.
“That’ll be Wesley.” said Alex, still leaning against the counter with a smile on his face. “Grab a coat, it’s chilly up here in the mornings. You probably won’t need it once you get to Seattle but just in case.” When it was obvious that she hadn’t moved yet, Alex sighed softly, “Abigail.” When he didn’t continue, she looked up at him. He gave her a soft smile, “No need to panic or question everything all at once. You have enough on your plate today as is. Just go into the city with him, talk to him, ask him whatever questions you want. I can almost guarantee he won’t be able to refuse you an answer.” He winked before he turned back around, the conversation ended.
She got the distinct impression that he was used to people listening to him. She might just have to shake him up sometime.
Chapter Nine
❖
Abby
Abby had been prepared to feel trapped in the cab of Wesley’s red Ford, with no one else around and nothing between them. But it was a comfortable silence that calmed Abby’s nerves and slowed her brain down. It was in the silence of the drive that she was able to think more about what Alex had said that morning, and everything that had happened the day before. There was a part of her that knew she should be freaked out about all of this. But the more she heard and the more time she spent around the werewolves, the more right it all seemed.
And if, at the end of the day, it had just been some sick joke, well then she would go find herself a nice psychologist.
But what if it isn’t a joke? Abby glanced to her left. Wesley had one arm on the windowsill and the other hand gripped the steering wheel. When he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, she turned back to her window and the trees moving past. What had happened with her life? One day it was normal. She went to school, went to her job at the local book store and then went home, all to do it over again the next day. Then she started seeing ghosts.
Everything changed after that. Before she knew it, she’s dropped in the middle of the Wenatchee National Forest, told she’s a witch by a group of werewolves — Oh, and it would appear that she may just be the True Mate to one of them.
The next time she ever complained about her life being boring, she wanted someone to hit her.
In an attempt to clear her thoughts, Abby focused harder on the scenery passing by her window. They really had gone up in elevation quite a bit since she had left Buern the day before. Every once in awhile she got a glimpse through the trees of valleys and rocky cliffs. But then suddenly the road would open, the trees falling away, and she would lose her breath.
They were surrounded by other mountains, some higher and ones farther away that she felt like she could reach out and touch, they were so massive. Pine trees were the prominent tree in this area of the state, but she could make out pops of color here and there where a maple or aspen was making itself known in the early October air. She had seen mountains before, had even hiked trails on the west side of the Forest that went up to around 5,000 feet. But this view put them all to shame. Leaning closer to Wesley’s side of the truck, she could just make out a decent sized lake at the bottom of the rocky embankment they were driving on top of.
“That’s Shield Lake, not one of the biggest lakes in the mountains, but a decent sized one. It warms up to a swimmable temperature in the summer.”
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, making him chuckle. Abby noticed how the sound immediately made his shoulders relax more.
“Well,” he added, “swimmable for a werewolf.”
Leaning back into her seat, she shook her head. But a small smile had come to her face when Wesley had laughed. She had been so focused on her thoughts, that she hadn’t realized how tense he had been. But the moment he laughed, some of that tension left his shoulders and the hand gripping the wheel eased. Maybe the silence wasn’t as calming as she had thought.
For the rest of the descent down the mountain, Wesley would make small remarks here and there to give her names for things she was seeing. She really wished she had a map with her, that way she could get more of a bearing of where they were in the Forest. It wasn’t until the mountain dropped away behind them that she realized they were leaving the National Forest. Looking out her window and then behind them, she asked, “Did we come down the opposite side of the mountain than Buern? I didn’t come this way when I went up yesterday.”
Wesley nodded, skillfully passing an elderly couple in their old Cadillac. “It cuts off about an hour of the trip to come down rather than to go around them.”
So much for satellite maps knowing the best route to take. Knowing that the city was still an hour or so outside of the forest, Abby settled into her seat more since the good scenery was behind them.
“If you liked the drive that much, I’ll have to get you up to Aasgard’s Pass. But it’s quite the hike. You can’t get vehicles up that high.”
Abby looked over at him, watched how his eyes scanned the road in front of him. His profile really was something to marvel at. His face may have still held just a hint of boyhood, but his jawline was strong and already well defined. A little stumble shadowed his face, making Abby wonder if he usually shaved every day or if he was wanting to grow a beard. Had he been clean shaved yesterday? She couldn’t remember. But it was those crystal blue eyes that kept grabbing her attention, every time they looked in her direction. As she was staring, he looked over at her, a smirk growing on his lips. She turned her head back to the front of the truck, a blush heating up her cheeks. She had never been one to stare so much, not so directly. Nor had she ever been so taken by a guy, let alone a guy she bare
ly knew.
This wolf was throwing her off her game. Like she even had game. Abby glanced out her window and smiled to herself.
Trying to gain some sort of control again, Abby turned her smile back at him, “I can handle a good hike. It’s about the only kind of exercise I actually enjoy.” Wesley glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road. Abby offered him a one arm shrug, “I like to be outside.”
Wesley was silent for a few miles of road before he said, “You know, that makes a lot of sense.” She looked at him, and he nodded his head before continuing, “Witches, at least light witches, gain their power from the natural world around them. It’s the same for the Faye, at least the Faye I know. The sun, the moon, the trees; they all give you power. The fact that you enjoy being outside amongst the elements makes sense. You feel safe, at home. I can understand how that feels.”
They grew silent for a time. Abby was lost in thought for a while, thinking back to all of the days spent outside growing up. The times when she’d just sit in the sunlight, basking in its warmth; or how she would stare up at the full moon for hours and never feel bored. A road sign passed by, indicating the amount of miles left until they reached the city. Glancing at Wesley, Abby chewed her bottom lip. “Wesley, why are you and Alex looking into this missing girl and the murder? Does it have something to do with why you were in the cemetery yesterday?”
She watched him look out his window briefly, scratching his chin with his free hand. Then he sighed and she could almost see him deflating a bit. “It does, kind of. I could smell your magic and I thought maybe you knew something — or that maybe you were behind it all.” He chuckled, smiling at her, “Obviously, I know that’s not the case now. But a witch walking into Buern right after another one went missing was strange.” Sighing, he ran a hand down his face, “We were asked to look into the murder by the State Alpha.” He glanced at her before looking back at the road, “Alex is the Alpha of our pack but there’s an Alpha in charge of all of the wolves in the state — that’s Isaac Neilson. He’s an old friend of Alex’s and asked if we could help.” He shrugged, “Alex is known for his friendliness to witches, and even the Faye in the past. I guess Isaac figured Alex was his best option.”
Abby hummed, wondering who this State Alpha was and what he would be like. She couldn’t imagine such a man being as friendly and sweet as Alex. “And this new missing girl, she’s a witch? Who is she?”
“Her name is Jessie Canry, she’s from Buern. Her family’s Faye-blood is some of the strongest in the state —” He looked over at her with a smirk, “Well, until you came along.”
So Alex wasn’t just looking into a murdered witch but now a missing one as well? Abby wondered if they were connected. Was some creep trying their hands at being a serial killer but only targeting witches? Rubbing her forehead with the heel of her palm, Abby shook her head. Maybe Alex was right — she had enough on her mind. Leave this problem to Wesley. “Well, I’m glad you followed me to the cemetery. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.” She smiled at him, her stomach doing flip flops when a slight blush rose on his cheeks.
Clearing his throat, he nodded once, “Yeah, uh, me too.”
With a chuckle only just contained, Abby turned to face him better, pulling one leg onto the seat and tucking it underneath her. “How old are you, Wes? Alex said he was born in the 1600’s.”
Wesley looked over at her for a moment, his eyebrows pulled together briefly, making her wonder if she had offended him. But when he answered her, his voice held a chuckle, “You know, not every werewolf you meet is going to be a hundred years old or more.” He glanced at her again and then back at the road, “I’m nineteen, be twenty in December.”
She sat back a little surprised. That wasn’t what she had been expecting. She didn’t think he was that old when he had been turned, but didn’t realize he wasn’t much older than herself. Thinking back to everything she had read about on werewolves, Abby asked, “When were you turned into a werewolf?”
He seemed to struggle with the question, looking from his hands on the wheel and then out his window briefly. “I wasn’t turned. I was born a werewolf.”
“That’s possible?”
Another one arm shrug, “Technically, yes. But it’s not common.” He passed another car on the road, some van full of kids. “It’s uncommon because humans can’t usually carry a wolf child to term.”
Abby looked at him, saw the slight tension that was in his face, “Your mother was human?” she asked, her voice soft.
He turned his head away from her again. She wondered if it was because he didn’t want her reading the emotions that were so clear on his face. “Yes, she was. She died in childbirth.”
All her life Abby had wished she had known her parents. Wanted to ask them why they had given her away, why they hadn’t loved her. But she realized there may be worse ways to never have a parent in your life. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head, offering her a smile that she knew was forced, “It’s alright, I never knew her, right? Why should it matter.”
She watched him for a moment, watched his hands work on the wheel and his eyes dart around on the road. “Because it does matter. Knowing where you come from matters.” Crystal blue eyes met green, freezing her in her thoughts. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and her stomach clenched tight. And then he looked away, the moment gone.
They were silent for a few minutes, before she sighed. “What about your father?”
A snort and a shrug, “He went insane. After my mother died, he couldn’t take the pain of losing his mate. Took about five years, but eventually he gave into his wolf.” Sadness filled his eyes and was gone again almost before Abby caught it. “Just before he really lost it, he made Alex swear to watch over me, to raise me. And then begged Alex to kill him.”
Stunned, Abby couldn’t picture it. Thinking of the sweet wolf back in the mountains murdering his friend, just didn’t add up. “He did it?”
Wesley looked at her out of the corner of his eye, “Of course he did. My father could’ve had a much worse death if he hadn’t.”
Sitting back in her seat, she looked out her window, thinking about the werewolf who loved to cook. How horrible, to have to kill a friend. She had always felt like it was worse never knowing or never meeting her parents, even though she saw foster kids who had been taken from their families often. She still felt that at least those kids had something to miss, had a reason to feel angry or upset. To her, having no memory of her parents, it felt like she had no right to miss them or want to be with them. Because she had never known them.
But maybe that wasn’t really the point at all. Maybe you really could miss something that you never had in the first place.
“What about you? You’ve been in foster care since you were five?”
Her grim thoughts left behind, she nodded, “Yup, lived in 18 or so foster houses.” Shrugging a shoulder, she added, “I honestly stopped counting after 15.” She had been focused on the road in front of them, the city peeking out on the horizon. But his silence made her squirm. Looking back at him, she found him staring at her. His eyes shifting from her and then the road and back again. His mouth was hanging open a little. “What?”
“You lived in almost twenty foster homes? By the time you were eighteen?”
The shock was clear in his voice. She shrugged — like it mattered anymore, it was all done and over with. “Yeah.”
His head was shaking, his hair falling into his eyes. “Is that normal? Do kids get carted off to new homes every six months or something all the time?”
Was it normal? No, that much Abby knew. But she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it when it was happening. That just made it harder. The view out her window was suddenly much more interesting than the werewolf sitting only a foot away from her. “No, it’s not normal.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.
She had never been good talkin
g about this with anyone. When the school counselor had wanted to talk about it, Abby had shut down and never spoke to the lady again. Eventually, she stopped being called into the counselor’s office. But something inside her wanted to tell Wesley. To tell him everything. How she used to hide in some corner of whatever house she was in at the time and just cry. Until she realized that crying fixed nothing. That’s when she found solace in books and would hide in the school library between classes or after school, for as long as she was allowed.
Not like her foster parents were ever any help. Sure, some of them were nice people. They just didn’t know what to do with the little girl who wouldn’t speak and just wanted to sit in the back garden and read. They didn’t know what to do with the girl who always got into fights at school, even though it seemed like she never started them.
She could feel his eyes on her, asking her to say more but not daring to ask out loud. After a few miles had passed on the road, Abby let out a breath and unfolded her arms. “People just…” A deep breath, “People just didn’t know what to do with me.”
He snorted, causing Abby to look over at him with her brows pulled together. “Sorry, but I don’t think that’s an excuse for foster parents to just send a kid away. Parents don’t get to just toss their kid out because they’re sick of dealing with them.”
He had a point, Abby knew that. But that was just one of those things that she had stopped thinking about by the time she was nine. Before her emotions got the better of her, Abby turned in her seat to face Wesley. “So, are all werewolves immortal?” He looked a little shocked at the sudden change of topic, but he recovered quick enough. She didn’t feel like talking about the past anymore. Plus, she had been wondering about the lifespan of werewolves since her talk with Alex that morning.
Wesley shrugged, “Technically we’re not immortal, we can die. We just heal very quickly and age very slowly. But yes, one of the side effects of lycanthropy — what makes someone a werewolf — is a very long life.”
