by Tasha Black
Grace was a consummate professional.
And Julian was over one hundred years old.
Neither one had an excuse to be acting like a couple of hormonal teenagers.
What the hell was happening with these two?
Now she and Julian stood in front of the interrogation room door, staring at each other awkwardly.
Julian looked down, and cleared his throat.
“Where’s Garrett?” Ainsley asked, saving him from trying to explain what he and Grace had just been doing.
He smiled at her and the relief was plain on his face. He looked quite relaxed, actually, and there was something else different about him too. Ainsley was having a hard time putting a finger on it, but his eyes looked brighter.
“He’s in a cell in the back,” he told her. “I put wards on it so that no magic can be done inside — ours or his.”
“I’m going to talk to him,” she said.
“I’ll wake Grace,” Julian replied.
They nodded at each other, then Julian opened the door again.
Ainsley got one last glimpse of her best friend. Grace curled on her side like a kitten. Her face was soft in sleep, but a half smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She must be having a good dream. Julian leaned over her tenderly, and spoke in a low voice as the door swung shut.
Suddenly, Ainsley had a lump in her throat. She turned on her heel and headed for the holding cells.
The room at the end of the hall felt dark compared to the rest of the station. It stood empty, except for a desk and chair with a framed print of one of Escher’s labyrinths over it, and the man in one of the two holding cells.
Garrett sat on the floor of his cell, cradling the stump of his right hand in the arm of his left.
He should have looked pathetic, but he was strangely calm. And though he was dirty and horribly injured, Ainsley couldn’t help but notice the confidence in the set of his shoulders.
Frankly, she didn’t give a shit how he felt right now. He was going to answer all her questions or the wolves of Tarker’s Hollow would be permitted to tear him apart.
“So you want to release the moroi,” she said without preamble. “Why now?”
Garrett studied her calmly for a moment. Ainsley imagined ripping the cell door off its hinges and tearing his throat out, but her face remained impassive. She knew he would try to use her emotions against her if she gave him the chance.
“Most of the magic has gone out of the world,” he began, his speech surprisingly clear through his damaged jaw. “It’s not ready to put up a fight anymore. The wolves are weakening. It’s time.”
She hadn’t expected Garret to be so talkative, but she wasn’t about to argue. She kept her guard up, waiting for him to try to provoke her as he continued.
“We’ve been looking for a site to wake the first master. With your parents gone, Tarker’s Hollow looked like an ideal candidate. Then, when construction threatened the site, we had to speed things up.”
“That’s why you were so desperate for the key,” Ainsley said, ignoring the jab about her parents.
“Yes,” he replied. “We had one of yours on the inside. Watching. Guarding the key.”
“Sadie?” Ainsley asked, trying not to let the wave of nausea she felt at the betrayal show on her face.
“She and her late husband,” Garrett nodded. “Their job was to keep an eye on your parents and report back to us. Mr. Epstein was loyal to our cause. Apparently, Sadie was quite taken with you. She refused to give up the key. We were forced to improvise.”
So Sadie Epstein-Walker was practically a double agent. How brave she had been to stand up to Garrett. Ainsley tried to keep the smile off her face. Garrett would see none of her emotions.
“But now we have the key. It’s over,” she said calmly.
“It’s too late to stop it,” Garrett told her with a smile that didn’t touch the ruined side of his face. “The wheels are already in motion. The master will rise, one way or another.”
“Then why did you even need the key?” Ainsley asked.
“We want to release him on our terms. It’s too unpredictable to release him without it.”
He had to be bluffing. But Ainsley’s wolf senses told her that his heart was beating steadily, his pulse throbbing along at the same pace it had been in the beginning.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.
A mocking, almost flirtatious expression flickered in his pale blue eyes.
“So sorry, Miss Connor. I know how much you must have been looking forward to extracting the information from me.”
He glanced at her hands, which she’d balled into tight fists without realizing. She relaxed, and waited, silently.
“Because it doesn’t matter,” he continued. “You’re going to give me the key anyway.”
Although she knew there were wards on the cell, preventing him from doing magic, Ainsley looked away from him. His silky confidence was too much.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, studying the picture of Escher’s labyrinth.
“Because, I am the only one who can give your mate his wolf back.”
Chapter 10
Halloween night in Copper Creek.
Mary pretended she was relieved not to be trick-or-treating with the little ones tonight. After all, she was fifteen and practically grown-up now.
But it was beyond tragic, really. No one loved Halloween as much as Mary. And she’d given it all up to impress Erik, who was going trick-or-treating with her whole family, while she stayed home to give out candy.
It was so unfair.
The twins squealed like crazy as Zeke bounced around, karate kicking in the air. It was only a matter of time before he hit one of the girls in the head.
As if to prove her right, Rachel twirled awkwardly past Zeke in her ballerina costume, and one of his air kicks connected with her in the shin. She collapsed dramatically to the ground, howling.
Ruth swaggered over and shook her finger in Zeke’s shocked face.
“Don’t you hurt my sister!” she said in a deep, Batman voice.
“Zeke!” Mom yelled.
“I didn’t — I didn’t mean to!” he stammered, angry already, as he always was.
“I told you twenty times not to do that stuff in the house. Now read Ruth a story while I do Rachel’s hair. Rachel, c’mon, we need to do your ballerina bun!”
Mom always did great hair-dos on Halloween. Mary remembered the Halloween she’d gone as an ice skater and her mom had given her an up-do and sprinkled glitter in the hair spray while it was still wet. It had looked so pretty, everyone said so, and Mary had felt so proud.
“I know,” Mom said to Rachel in the other room. “Let’s put some glitter in it when we’re done!”
That was it. Mary couldn’t take it any more. She marched upstairs and flopped onto her bed, ready to cry.
“Mary?” a male voice called from the next room.
Erik. His voice was so deep it practically vibrated in her bones. The sound of it gave her excited little chills.
“Yeah?” she asked hopefully, sitting up on her bed and tucking her hair behind her ears.
“I’ll stay and give out candy with you, on one condition,” Erik said through the door.
Oh my gosh, yes! He could practically say anything as his condition. This night was going to go from the worst night of her whole life, to the best.
“What?” she asked, as casually as she could.
He tapped on the door.
She jumped up and opened it.
Erik stood on the other side. He wore a full-length robe and long, white beard. On his nose perched a pair of round-rimmed glasses.
“Dumbledore!” Mary couldn’t help yelling. The Harry Potter books were some of her all-time favorites.
“You have to wear a costume too,” he told her, handing her a Rite Aid bag.
She grinned in spite of herself. Of course she would wear a costume. She had never really not wanted
to.
“Okay,” she said, and gave him a genuine smile, not an expression she wore often these days.
She could tell he was smiling back at her because his big brown eyes crinkled. The rest of his face was hidden behind the enormous fake beard. She couldn’t help giggling a little.
“Mary, I know you’re getting older.” He spoke with an earnestness that carried through, in spite of the ridiculous getup. “Just try to remember that you won’t always have that many chances to act like a kid. You need to take them whenever you can.”
He was so serious and his voice was so dark.
She was torn between giggling again at how serious he was being in his silly outfit, and tingling with want for him.
Though what she actually wanted from him, she wasn’t sure. It was one thing to fantasize that they were trapped in a blizzard high in a mountain cabin, cuddling together for warmth. And it was another thing to stand six inches away from him, an actual grown-up man.
He was still staring intently at her.
She nodded back at him and snatched the Rite Aid bag out of his hands. Then she dashed down the stairs.
“You’ll need one of your dad’s ties! And get your mom to tease up your hair!” he yelled after her.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she peeked in the bag. Inside a wooden wand sat atop a black robe.
Hermione!
Erik Jensen was so freaking cool. He was also the kindest man Mary had ever met, besides her own daddy.
“Well, look at that, hon!” her mom said, looking over her shoulder. “The little wizard girl! We’ll put some glitter in your hair too, okay?”
Chapter 11
Ainsley and Julian sat on the wicker love seat on her front porch, gazing out at the bright fall trees that lined Princeton Avenue. To passersby, Ainsley figured they probably looked like a young couple whispering sweet nothings.
In reality, they were in a heated debate over how to handle the evening’s showdown.
Ainsley hadn’t told Julian about Garrett’s offer. There was no reason. She had sworn to herself she wouldn’t give it a second thought.
But she was thinking about it all the same, worrying at it like a smooth stone with a sharp nick in it.
The pack is my duty. But Erik is my world. The pack is my duty...
“...only way to handle this is—” Julian stopped speaking suddenly. Which was a good thing, because Ainsley had missed most of what he’d just said.
She looked up to see the kindergarten bus dropping the children off at the corner — all dressed up for Halloween.
Could it be Halloween already?
The twins from next door bounded off, dressed up as Wendy and Captain Hook. The long-suffering nanny shuffled them into the house, scolding them gently for not wearing coats. Ainsley wondered idly if their big brother would be Peter Pan.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Julian grabbed her hand.
“Ainsley, what’s wrong?” he asked.
She stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, then remembered herself.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “The whole world is at stake here. Everything is wrong.”
“No. There’s something else. Are you getting a feeling about something?”
“A feeling?”
“An instinct,” he said, a note of hope in his voice. “A premonition. Don’t make light of your gift, Ainsley. Any clues we have, whether they’re from your wolf senses or your magic, might be important.”
She shook her head sadly. If only she did have an intuition. Instead she had the teetering scales of Erik and the pack tipping back and forth in her head, threatening her very sanity.
“Well, if you do get a feeling, don’t sit on it,” he told her.
“I won’t. Where’s Grace?” she asked, hoping the mention of her best friend would distract him.
“She’ll be here soon,” Julian replied, but he looked anxious. “She said she had something to do after work.”
Ainsley figured it was because of what Grace needed to do at work. By now, Grace would have had to convince Dale that Garrett was actually a wolf, since there was no time to explain about the magic. Then she’d have to convince him not to transport him to a hospital, in spite of his hacked off hand. Grace had figured that since she could demonstrate that Garrett had murdered Lilliana, Dale would be easy to convince.
Ainsley thought the whole thing sounded sloppy, but couldn’t come up with a better idea that allowed Grace to handle as much of the problem through legal channels as possible.
If Dale didn’t relent, and if he let Garrett out of the cell...
Her next thought should have been that something could happen to Grace. Instead she caught herself thinking that she might not have a choice about Erik anymore.
Erik, the pack, Erik...
“Are you sure the key is safe?” she asked Julian, not quite wanting to ask where the key was, as that might be the first step down a dark path.
“It’s in the chest, covered in protective wards,” he said with a half smile. “If anyone besides you opens it, they are in for a nasty surprise.”
And that was that.
“So do we tackle the thing in the tomb head on?” she asked.
“If it is released using the key, it will be strong,” Julian replied. “It’s already been strengthened by the ritual sacrifice of the girl.”
Lilliana. Ainsley knew Julian had avoided using her name on purpose. As long as he had been fighting this fight, the casualties still pained him. He might be an ageless warrior, but he was still human.
Ainsley’s broken heart throbbed. If her own human side were stronger, would she bring Erik back?
“Garrett said the tomb can be opened without the key. Is that true?” she asked.
“Not easily. They could blast or dig their way through the stone, but the barrier is magical, too,” Julian replied thoughtfully. “The moroi would be bound to the location until it had fed on enough prana.”
“Prada?” Ainsley asked.
“Prana is the sanskrit term. It is also called Chi, or life-force.” Julian studied his hands. “Sometime even the soul.”
“This thing eats souls?” Ainsley asked, willing herself to remain calm.
“Something like that,” he replied softly.
“So, if we break the stone, we will have a weakened version to deal with, is that right?” Ainsley asked.
“Well, yes, but it will be nearly impossible to destroy. Until it feeds, it won’t even take a corporeal form,” Julian explained.
“But once it’s solid, then we can kill it?” Ainsley asked.
“It’s not that simple. moroi are able to shift into the form of any creature they’ve fed on, right down to the last detail — memories and abilities included. That is why they were imprisoned in the first place.”
“So what do we do here?” Ainsley asked. “What’s our best chance?”
“To bury the whole thing under a few tons of rubble,” Julian said, staring out into the trees. “And hope no one ever digs it up.”
Ainsley followed his gaze. The way the wind stirred the golden leaves on the oak out front, it was impossible to believe that the town was riddled with dangers. That the very souls of Tarker’s Hollow could be eaten by a remorseless thing below the ground was unthinkable.
The coppery smell of blood stabbed at her nose, and she bolted up in a flash.
“Ainsley?” Julian said.
But she barely heard him.
That guy Grace had dated, Landon What’s-his-name, was staggering down the center of Princeton Avenue. His lip was split and there was blood in his dark curls and all over the white t-shirt that peeked out of the flannel he wore. He staggered a little as he walked, and squinted at the house numbers.
Ainsley cleared the porch railing in one bound. It took all her energy not to shift. Her wolf was snapping her jaws at the surface of Ainsley’s conscience.
“What happened?” she asked, as she met him in the st
reet.
He looked at her in shock and she slipped an arm around his shoulder to guide him toward the house.
Julian was already on the front walk and he took the boy’s other arm. Together they led him to the wicker love seat on the porch, where he collapsed.
“What happened?” Ainsley asked again, urgency pushing her voice higher. She could smell Grace’s fear on this young man.
“Grace came over to my place,” he began.
Ainsley’s wolf was on high alert. She heard Julian’s pulse speed and smelled his sweat beading. He was jealous.
“We went for a walk,” Landon continued, “and then the shadows...” he trailed off, and his eyes went out of focus.
He was in shock.
“Landon. You have to tell us what happened,” Ainsley told him in her sternest alpha voice. “No matter how crazy it seems.”
He blinked twice, then turned to her.
“The shadows came to life. They swallowed up Grace. I tried to stop it, but they were so strong...”
Ainsley stood and slipped her phone from her pocket. She paced over to the other side of the porch, and dialed 9-1-1.
Julian placed a hand on Landon’s forehead. She listened with half her mind as she explained the situation into the phone.
“You took a nasty spill over the handlebars of your mountain bike,” Julian told Landon in a silken voice. “You hit your head. The part with the shadows wasn’t real. Just a bump on the head.”
By the time she got off the phone with the Springton dispatch Landon was looking relieved and leaning back against the cushions of the love seat.
Within ten minutes he was being carried away in the back of an ambulance. If anyone noticed the lack of a bike at the scene, they didn’t mention it.
As soon as they were alone again, Ainsley looked to Julian.
“How much prana would the thing have to absorb to be strong enough to come out without the key?” she asked.
“I don’t really know,” he replied uncertainly. “At least a dozen people’s worth, I would guess.”
Ainsley thought of what she had seen inside the key — the strings, the lights of the townsfolk shining at the end of each, and Grace, eclipsing the brightest of them.
