Forget Me Not (#2, The Mystic Wolves)

by Belinda Boring

  “Nonsense.” Vivien waved her hand in the air. “It’s the least I can do after what you shared with me last night. I say the sooner we reveal the truth, the sooner we can kick that interloper out and send her on her way. Am I right?”

  I couldn’t help my jaw from dropping at the frankness of her statement. I’d always known Vivien to be impartial when it came to Council business, her ability to hide her true opinion flawless.

  She smiled, gently closing my mouth with the lift of her finger. “No need to be surprised, dear heart. We’re amongst friends right now, and I’m not ashamed to admit that Amber makes my blood boil.” Gesturing for us to go in, I stepped inside, and then followed her through the foyer.

  “How is your mother? I miss her terribly, but I trust she’s well?” Vivien walked beside me, her voice low.

  “She is. I talked with her a few days ago and from the sounds of it, she’s enjoying her vacation in Europe. It was good to hear the excitement in her voice—she deserves to have a little fun.”

  “I bet she wanted to come home when she learned about Jasmine’s death, though.”

  “Yeah, and it took some convincing for her to stay where she was. By the time I could reach her, the farewell ritual had already been completed, and then there was the mess with Avery. I didn’t want her to get involved with all that.”

  “It’s hard for a mother to stand by and watch the suffering of her child, Darcy. I’m sure it was a bitter pill to swallow for her to stay where she was. Did you tell her about Amber?” Vivien looked at me from the corner of her eye.

  “No.” My face flushed with embarrassment.

  “I guarantee nothing would’ve stopped your mother from returning if you had. You underestimate the strength you can gather from her in moments like this,” she spoke softly.

  “I don’t doubt that. I just don’t want to see her get hurt, and I hoped it would resolve itself quickly so there was no need.”

  “She’s not going to be happy when she finds out how sick you were. You’ll have to explain why you kept her in the dark.”

  We’d come to one of the large doors leading out of the foyer, and pausing with my hand on the doorknob, I nodded.

  “She’s going to be mad, isn’t she?” I sighed. I knew in wanting to protect my mother from things, I’d also hurt her.

  “But she’ll understand eventually. No one could fault your heart—it’s in your nature to protect those you love.”

  Smiling, Vivien gestured for me to go first, and I entered into the receiving room which housed a large window overlooking the side gardens of the property. The furniture was immaculately kept, turn of the century style, and it lent the room an air of authority. As I sunk into the closest sofa, I released a soft breath.

  Zane came to sit by me, his cool hand resting gently on my knee, patting it. “I’m sorry about the news, Darcy. It’s not something I wish to see happen to those I care for.”

  With everyone in the room, Devlin closed the door before coming over to bow before his liege. Zane nodded in acceptance, and began to ask after Devlin when Vivien interrupted, seeking to know who would like refreshments.

  “You are ever the perfect hostess, my sweet.” Zane smile, the edges around his eyes crinkling slightly as his pupils twinkled. As with most vampires, he was an exceptionally handsome man, sexy with a dangerous air. Everything about him sizzled with a lethal sense of power, a force that made him a formidable enemy to any who dared to cross him. I knew he had the ability to bend anyone to his will—whether by his charm, his smile, or his ruthless use of his vampire nature.

  Once our choices were relayed to the housekeeper, Vivien took her seat with the rest of us, and a solemn feeling rested upon the group. “Devlin tells me there is enchantment being used, in the form of jewelry. May I see the piece you’ve brought with you?”

  He wasted no time unwrapping the band from the material he’d used to protect it. Staring down at the ring, my stomach churned—a reminder of how sick it had made me. I’d be happy if I never saw the thing again.

  Vivien watched, nothing escaping her gaze, and a frown wrinkled between her brows. “Extraordinary. This is an exceptional piece of magic. There is subtly in its weavings, but nonetheless cast with only the most deadly of intentions. There’s no doubt in my mind had you continued to wear this, Darcy, it would’ve killed you.”

  “We need to know who sent it.” Devlin sat on the edge of his seat, peering down at the piece with a look of distaste on his face.

  “If I can get this to reveal, not only the spell that was used, but also the one who cast it as well, it will definitely provide the evidence you’re wanting.” She looked at both Devlin and I, and we nodded. “If this does involve Amber, she’ll need to stand trial for her actions. She’ll no longer need the protection of Mason, because she’ll be housed securely within the Council’s prison.”

  “What I want to know is how would Amber have gotten hold of something like this? It’s just a regular ring, but the magic added must be created by witches. As far as I know, she comes from a long line of werewolves.” I looked between Devlin and Zane, hoping they could answer my question.

  “Sadly, there is always someone who can provide these kinds of things—a black market to the supernatural community. Such dealings are outlawed, but it’s a case of supply and demand,” Zane replied, shaking his head sadly.

  “So what was added to the ring? Judging from Darcy’s reaction, the spell is malicious in nature, because it almost killed her, and she hadn’t even been wearing it for twenty four hours.” Devlin took hold of my hand and gripped it, lines of concern covering his forehead.

  “We can find that out right now,” Vivien spoke, rising from her seat. Gesturing to someone outside the room, she stood by the door and waited for them to return. “Describe to me exactly how it felt, Darcy.”

  Systematically, I listed all the details to my reaction—from the feeling of a war being waged inside my body. All the while, the look of worry grew darker and darker on her face. Now that I was away from the influence of the magic, I could see just how dire things had been.

  A knock on the door brought our attention to the housekeeper and assistant. One held a tray with refreshments, which she placed on the skirted table and began to distribute. The other carried another platter, but this one contained items hidden beneath a silk piece of cloth. Handing it to Vivien, there was a brief nod of respect and dismissal before the lead witch returned to where we were sitting.

  I’d seen this before—Vivien’s tools of her trade, and a thrill pulsed through me. Watching her do magic, whether it was to cast or reveal, was always something spectacular, but I was also excited to see exactly what had been done.

  I graciously accepted my drink, and placed it beside my chair. I stared at the tray—a large clear quartz crystal lay on it, along with small dishes filled with crushed powders, a fresh white candle, and a silver chalice half-filled with reddish liquid. Testing the air, I could smell the herbs and fought the urge to sneeze.

  “Do you wish for some privacy, Vivien,” Zane asked, signaling for Devlin to stand on the chance they would need to leave while the ritual was performed. I caught a fondness in the way he beheld her, the slight tenderness around the way his lips curled into a smile as he spoke, gentleness in his eyes.

  “No, I’d prefer you all witness this, seeing it’s Council business. Thank you, though.” She reached to brush her hand over his. “Now the spell is a simple one. Using the power stored in the crystal, I’ll offer up a few words while sprinkling some consecrated herbs around and on the stone. This will cause whatever magic has been performed to be revealed, along with the signature essence of the caster.”

  “So it’ll tell us who did it?” I asked.

  “Yes, everyone has an essence about them—a scent, a feeling, a taste—something that is uniquely theirs. Each of us has one, and it’s the universes way of keeping track. The only way to mask it is with extreme energy, and frankly, there aren’t many w
ho hold such power.” Setting up everything before her, she clasped her hands in her lap. “Something tells me Amber doesn’t have access to such things. No. Once this is completed, we’ll know who we’re dealing with. Ready?” She glanced around, and noted she held a captive audience. “Okay, let’s begin.”

  Lighting the candle, Vivien took in a deep breath, and taking a pinch of something from one of the bowls, she began to sprinkle it around the ring.

  “Using the sacred flower of the iris, I pray for the gift of wisdom and ask the blessed Goddess to grant her purifying influence over this ritual. I seek for knowledge. I ask for truth. I petition for those hidden things to be revealed. Blessed be.”

  Dipping her hand into the next bowl, she began to drop the new substance in a clockwise circle around the small band, not once breaking her focus as the candles flame began to flicker.

  “With the crushed remains of the thistle plant, I ask for the magic placed over this ring to be broken, blessed Goddess, the hex cast to bring harm on another be lifted and revealed for all to see. I beseech that the power of this sacred plant be used instead to strengthen my resolve for truth, and protect all in this room from malicious intent. Blessed be.”

  Vivien next took hold of the chalice, lifting it first in front of her as a silent offering, and then to her lips where she took a small sip. She closed her eyes momentarily, and I could feel a slight shift in the energy of the room. I sat mesmerized as she then dipped her fingers into the metal cup and sprinkled the liquid in a similar fashion as before.

  “Seal this spell, and view my solemn petition with kindness, blessed Goddess. Reveal the truth to my eyes, and in all things, Blessed be.”

  She leaned forward, blowing out the candle, and sat back, staring intently at the space above the piece of jewelry. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Devlin watching also. Zane was looking at Vivien and as the energy in the room shifted and crackled, he also turned to look.

  The room was silent, and just when I thought the spell had gone wrong, there was a whooshing sound before I began to see the air twinkling, a faint cloud of sparkling glitter hovering over the ring. It grew in intensity, the lights growing brighter and brighter, and they started moving about to form an image—one of a heart.

  I couldn’t help but be fascinated as I watched it silently beat, surprised when the organ suddenly turned black before disintegrating into dust. Before I had a chance to ask for an explanation, more sparkles appeared, and this image stole my breath.

  It was in the perfect likeness to a wolf, the lights swaying back and forth gently, and I gasped as I watched the animal tilt its head and howl. Its features contorted in agony, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching forward to comfort it. It was painful to watch, and I felt as though I was being branded by white hot flame as the wolf was destroyed. Even though the room remained silent, the death cries were deafening in my mind.

  I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to witness anymore. As far as I was concerned, the evidence was damning. Whoever had cast this spell had wanted one thing—my death. Whether by losing my mind, my heart, or my connection with my wolf, it was meant to utterly destroy me, and it raised a bloodthirsty cry up out of my throat.

  I must’ve growled, my shift starting, because I found myself being shaken before caught in the gaze of Devlin.

  “Darcy. Control yourself. Wait.” His black orbs were pleading, and his fingers dug into my arms. My wolf was baying, realizing just how deeply we had been in trouble.

  “Wait for what?” I snarled, still not completely myself.

  “This,” Vivien answered, and the room was filled with a pungent scent that felt like it sizzled the hairs in my nose. It spoke of anger and corruption.

  Devlin closed his eyes in an attempt to focus. “I know this person, but the name is on the tip of my tongue.”

  “It’s Morgan.” The gasp from Vivien was undeniable.

  “Are you sure?” he quickly asked, and I glanced between them both. There was a look of disbelief on their faces.

  “I’m positive. I don’t know what troubles me more—that it’s her who’s involved or just how far it seems she’s fallen,” Vivien added, shaking her head. “Her essence was never this bad, even when she left the coven.”

  I watched the sadness cross my friend’s appearance. I knew who Morgan was, and remembered her as a witch who Vivien had mentored years ago. She was rumored to have had a falling out with one of her fellow witches, and when Vivien wouldn’t step in on her behalf, Morgan had left—angry and bitter. I’d assumed she’d left the area, but if she really was a part of this, it meant she’d kept local.

  “Do we have any idea where she is?” Zane interjected. “If she is responsible for this, we need to find her and determine whether this was her own plan, or if she works for another.”

  “If she’s here, it won’t take too long for me to locate her. If I’m familiar enough with the spells being used, she needed to be within distance of Darcy to ensure the ring worked. I’ll make some calls and see what I can uncover.” Devlin removed his phone from his pocket, and walked across the room to make a call.

  “I’d hoped Morgan had moved on, that she’d forgotten her anger. I can’t believe she’d be using her powers for something like this. She was such a gentle student—the malice in the spell I just revealed is so unlike her. I feel as though I’ve failed her somehow.”

  “You aren’t to blame for what others do. No matter how close a connection you had with them. Some people take different paths—regardless of the teachings they’ve received. You weren’t to know this could happen,” Zane offered, patting Vivien’s hand to comfort her.

  “Are you positive it’s her? Could it be someone else?” I asked.

  “Without a doubt, it’s Morgan.”

  Devlin crossed the room, returning to where we were sitting, and bowed slightly to his King and Vivien. “The search has begun. I have Enforcers asking their contacts for information, so hopefully we’ll have a lead soon. In fact, there are some I need to talk with also.” Holding out his hand, Devlin pulled me to my feet. “I’ll take you back to my place, if that’s alright, so I can get started.”

  We offered our goodbyes, promising to keep both Vivien and Zane updated with anything new, and the last thing I saw before leaving the room was the vampire king pulling the lead witch into an embrace.

  “There’s a history between them, isn’t there?” I asked, curious about their relationship. Exiting the house, striding down the stairs to the motorcycle, I began strapping on the helmet again.

  “That’s a story for another time.” Devlin grinned, winking.

  Wrapping my arms around his narrow waist, the kick of the bike spearing forward brought any further questioning to an end, and as I lay my head against his back, I closed my eyes.

  I’m onto you Amber, I thought, and it won’t be long now before I’m coming for you.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The house was quiet as I slipped through the front door, the sound of Devlin taking off on his motorcycle fading. The warmth of the day gave a cozy feeling to the place, and random beams of sunshine filtered through the windows. Gone were the days where a vampire’s home was shrouded in darkness. As my stomach growled, I headed in the direction of food.

  Devlin’s kitchen was state of the art, every gadget and device you could possibly need available. The chrome surfaces gleamed, spotless, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I knew that vampires didn’t have to eat, but some of the best times I’d spent in this place were with Devlin, preparing a meal and gossiping about the latest things in our lives. He was an amazing cook, and I knew he did it mostly to give me some semblance of normalcy when I visited.

  Opening the refrigerator, I peered inside—trying to see what looked appealing. Even though Vlad was newly turned, it was obvious from the quick inspection he’d forgotten humans liked variety. Sitting on one of the shelves, surrounded by jars of blood, was a carton of milk, a packet of cheese and a bag of apples.


  I chose a piece of fruit, rinsing it first under the sink faucet, and drying it with the bottom of my shirt, I took a large bite. Sweet juice filled my mouth and, pulling my phone from my pocket, I sent a quick text to Devlin about needing more food.

  The afternoon loomed before me, and I had no idea how long it would be before he’d return home. I took a seat on one of the stools, and let out a heavy sigh as I continued to eat. Dust particles danced in the sunbeam that shone down in front of me, and I waved my hand idly through it. The small pieces scattered, creating patterns, and my mind began to wander back to what we’d just learned about the enchanted ring.

  My gaze fell on my hand, as if expecting to feel the weight of the malicious gift there, and the action triggered a deep shudder to pulse through me. As a werewolf, I knew I was strong, but I also had vulnerabilities—the past few days were proof of that. It didn’t sit well with me at all.

  Finishing the snack and tossing the remains in the trash bin, I tried to decide how I’d spend my afternoon. Possibilities flooded my mind, but there was one place I knew I’d end up. Devlin had an extensive library, filled with all kinds of mystical and supernatural knowledge, as well as a variety of fiction. There was bound to be something I could occupy my time with, and I smiled as purpose filled me.

  I climbed the staircase, heading in the direction of the study. Passing a door, I heard the noise of a television playing. Pausing at the frame, I also heard rhythmic pounding and soft grunts. I had figured Vlad was busy sleeping, or out causing mischief for his guardian, and I was surprised to find him decked out in sweats and a black muscle shirt, punching away at body shaped target.

  Despite his appearance, Vlad hit with incredible force, causing the equipment to teeter and rock after each blow. There was power in each strike, precision to where he laid his fists. It reminded me of the importance of never judging a book by its cover—Vlad may look smaller, leaner, but he could be just as deadly.