by C. D. Gorri
“Absolutely.” She started to argue that she wouldn’t be tagging anywhere—that she had work to do—but she was thankful for the distraction from her mother’s prying, so she kept her mouth shut.
“I’ll have dinner ready for you when you get home,” her mother said. “I’m making my famous meatloaf for Noah.”
“Mmm…” Noah said as he rose to his feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Mason. It’s been a minute since I’ve had your meatloaf. I’m looking forward to it.”
Outside, Amber climbed into the back seat of her dad’s jet-black Silverado, and they headed toward the werewolf national congress headquarters. Luckily, her dad didn’t ask any questions about her relationship with Noah. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if his wolf didn’t claim her.
Instead, they rode in silence. Her dad’s gaze remained glued to the road, while Noah stole glances at her through the side mirror. Amber leaned her head against the cool glass, offering him the best smile she could fake while her mind whirred with what-ifs. Until last night, she’d been confident Noah could get his wolf under control, but what if he couldn’t?
What if Luke’s nod of approval had merely been his way of warding off another forced shift? Both times Noah’s wolf had taken control, they had been discussing their relationship, and both times, the beast had stalked her. What if that was the animal’s way of telling them they weren’t meant to be? Or what if the congress had other plans for Noah and tried to remove him from the pack? They’d have to go rogue to be together if that were the case, and going rogue was something Amber could never do.
Or could she?
Her vision blurred as she gazed out the window at the trees whizzing past, and nausea churned in her gut. There was no need to get worked up about this now. She had no control over what the congress would decide about him, and her energy was best focused on things she could do.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as they pulled off the main road onto a narrow path only wide enough for a single vehicle. A car approaching from the opposite direction had to pull over halfway into the ditch, while her dad did the same as they passed. Oak trees lined both sides of the road, creating a tunnel effect, their branches reaching out to tangle with their neighbors’.
Amber swallowed the bile from the back of her throat. She had the foreboding sense that she was being led to her doom, which was absolutely ridiculous. It didn’t feel like a premonition, and her father wouldn’t bring her here if she’d be in any sort of danger. She’d simply watched too many horror movies for her own good. From now on, movie night would consist of romantic comedies only.
An eight-foot stone wall surrounded the property as they approached, and an iron gate blocked the entrance. Damn, this wasn’t how she imagined the congress at all. She’d pictured a cabin in the woods with maybe a subterranean tunnel system where they housed the archives.
The gate rolled open, and her father pulled into the driveway of a massive nineteenth-century colonial mansion, complete with columns and a long gallery on the second floor. He stopped the truck at the top of the U-shaped drive, and a valet scurried out to open his door.
Amber stifled a laugh. Her father was so not the being-waited-on type. Noah opened her door, and she slid out, gripping his hand like this was the last time she’d get to touch him.
“Everything you are about to see is to remain in strictest confidence,” her dad said as if reciting a speech written by someone else. “Amber, what you find in the archives must be discussed with Luke before the information is disseminated to the pack, and Noah…” He glanced at her before looking into Noah’s eyes. “What happens in the congress’s chambers stays in the chambers.”
Thanks, Dad. Not helping with the overbearing sense of impending doom. “Can I talk to you in private for a second?” She squeezed Noah’s hand and released it before lacing her arm around her dad’s elbow and walking him out of earshot. “Is Noah in danger being here? They won’t…do anything to him, will they?”
Her dad missed a beat in his reply, and something strange flashed in his eyes before he composed his answer. “They’re just going to examine him right now.” He patted her hand and gestured toward the entrance.
Yeah… Not helping at all.
Inside, a crystal chandelier hung in the foyer, and hardwood floors stretched down a long hallway. A man around Amber’s age sat at a desk in a small room to the left, and when he saw her father, he shot to his feet.
“The witch is getting set up, Mr. Mason,” he said. “It’ll be a few more minutes.”
“Witch?” Amber clutched her father’s arm and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You said they were only examining him.”
He glanced at her hand on his arm before giving her a sharp look, reminding her that, while he may be her father, in here, he was a congresswolf and should be treated as such. “Let’s get you to the archives, and then I’ll take Noah to the examination room.”
Amber released her hold, taking Noah’s hand instead, and followed her father down the hall and up a staircase to the second floor. A line of windows revealed the back courtyard, where stone benches surrounded a fountain and topiaries trimmed into the shapes of wolves dotted the grounds.
The wood floor creaked with their footsteps, and as her dad opened a set of double doors, Amber’s breath caught at the sight of the archives. Row after row of floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the dimly lit space, their shelves filled with antique volumes and boxes of who knew what.
“This is my daughter,” he said to the woman behind a raised counter. “She has permission to use the archives.” He turned to Amber. “Cynthia will help you get started.”
Amber pulled Noah into a hug. He was tense, but as she nuzzled into his neck, brushing her lips over his skin, he relaxed a little. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He pulled back, running his thumb over her cheek before pressing a piece of paper into her hand. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Noah.” Her dad stood halfway down the hall, so Noah gave her a half-smile, turned, and walked away.
Amber stepped into the archives and unfolded the paper to find the note Nylah left him when she started working for the congress. She quickly folded it and shoved it into her pocket. “Hi, Cynthia, I’m Amber.”
“Hi.” She scurried from around the counter, the heels of her patent leather pumps clicking on the floor. A black pencil skirt brushed the tops of her knees, and a light blue silk blouse perfectly matched her eyes. “I’m second-born as well. What’s your ability?”
“Empathic premonitions. You?”
“Finding lost things…and people.”
Amber’s pulse thrummed. “You can find missing people?”
“Usually.” She gestured to a table in the center of the room and moved toward it. “You’re looking for Nylah L’Eveque, right? She was from your pack.”
“Yes. Can you find her?”
Cynthia shook her head, and her blonde curls swished around her face. “I’ve tried.”
“Will you try again?”
“I need an item that belonged to the missing person. Clothing, jewelry, a journal. Anything that had meaning to them. I sat in Nylah’s room, surrounded by her possessions, and I couldn’t locate her, so I doubt—”
“Will you try one more time? I have a letter she wrote.” She pulled the note from her pocket, offering it to Cynthia.
“One more time.” Cynthia took the note and flashed a sympathetic smile as she began to unfold the paper.
Amber put her hand on the letter. “It’s private.” Noah had given it to her so the congress wouldn’t find it. She had no idea if she could trust Cynthia to keep his secret.
“Of course.” She refolded the letter, clutching it in both hands as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Amber stared at her, willing an image of Nylah’s location to come to her mind. The seconds stretched into excruciatingly long minutes before Cynthia finally opened her eyes.
“Nothing.” She handed the l
etter back to Amber. “It’s as if she no longer exists.”
“What does that mean? She didn’t just vanish into thin air.”
Cynthia pursed her lips. “Usually when this happens, it’s because…” She cringed before finishing, “It’s because the body has been decimated. Turned to ash and spread in the wind.”
Amber’s stomach sank, and she touched a hand to a bookshelf to steady herself. “No. She can’t be dead. I can feel that she’s alive, and so can Noah.”
“And I can’t feel her at all.” Cynthia drew her shoulders toward her ears. “But that’s why you’re here, right? To see what you can find out about the Grunch she was investigating. Come on; I’ve already pulled some volumes.”
Amber followed Cynthia to the table where a stack of books lay on the corner. “Do you have any information about the Thropynite?”
“I’ll see what I can find.” Cynthia scurried away, and Amber dove into the books.
She started with a thick, leather-bound volume filled with handwritten pages dated 1729. The paper smelled old and musty, and as she flipped the delicate pages, she found an entry documenting the Grunch. She scoured the book before moving on to the next. After two hours of reading, she hadn’t gleaned any more information about the gargoyle creatures than what she already knew.
And the Thropynite… Two different entries about the stone stated the person had to have physical contact with it for the magic to activate. If that were the case, it simply being in New Orleans couldn’t possibly be the reason Noah could shift. And if the Thropynite had nothing to do with his newfound ability, that could only mean Nylah was dead.
So what was this nagging feeling both she and Noah had that she was still alive? Could they both be imagining it? She was about to give in to defeat when Cynthia brought one more book.
“I found this one. It’s an account written by a witch who was supposedly held captive by the Grunch, so I don’t know how much merit it has. The creatures killed magical beings. I doubt they would have kept her alive, but here it is.” She set the thin book on the table in front of Amber and took the seat next to her. “Have you found anything useful?”
“Not yet.” Amber opened the book and read the witch’s account. Her eyes widened as she took in the story, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Her knee bounced beneath the table, and when she finished the short report, she gently closed the book. “While I’m here, would you mind finding the records of how the Crescent City Wolf Pack was formed? I’d like to read our history.”
“Absolutely.” Cynthia stood and disappeared behind a shelf.
Amber waited a beat or two until her new friend was far enough away before pulling out her phone and snapping pictures of the pages in the witch’s book. It was all here, in vivid detail, right down to the leader of the Grunch’s name. If the account were true, she knew where Nylah was and why Noah inherited the ability to shift.
*.*.*.*
Noah’s stomach soured as he followed his former alpha into the exam room. He’d expected to meet in the congress’s chambers to be questioned by the lot of them. Instead, Mr. Mason gestured for him to enter a small room near the kitchen on the first floor. The scents of bleach and patchouli mingled in the air, creating a sickening smell that coated the inside of his nose and reached all the way down to his throat. He swallowed the rancid taste from his mouth and stepped inside.
A hospital bed stood in the center of the room. Leather shackles for his arms and legs lay open on the surface, and a woman in her mid-fifties with long black hair and bright green eyes stood in the corner.
Instinct forced Noah to retreat, and he backed into Mr. Mason’s chest. He clutched Noah’s arms. “This is Helga. She’ll be conducting the exam.” He pointed to a large rectangular mirror on the wall. “I’ll be watching from the next room. Try to relax.”
Yeah, right. Even the toughest alpha couldn’t relax if he were chained to a bed, and he had a hunch those leather straps were reinforced with magic. Regular hospital restraints would be no match for the strength of a shifter.
“Do I have to be tied down?” He sat on the edge of the bed.
Mr. Mason gestured for him to lie on his back. “It’s for Helga’s safety. She’s going to ask you to shift, and these restraints have been bespelled to remain intact and hold your wolf.”
Noah ground his teeth as he lay back and let them strap him to the bed. Magic tingled on his wrists and ankles, and he rested his head on a thin pillow. The shackles gave him enough room to sit up, but he could only lift his arms halfway to his shoulders.
“I’ll be in at the first sign of trouble.” Mr. Mason nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him, the lock sliding into place sounding like a nail in a coffin. What had he gotten himself into?
Helga drifted to the end of the bed and hovered her hands above Noah’s head. “Lie still.”
He lifted his chained wrists. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
She shook her head, chiding him. “Can you sense your wolf? Describe what you feel.”
“I can feel it’s there, but that’s about it. I don’t have a clue about its emotions or what thoughts are running through its mind. I can call it to the surface to shift, but it’s hard to regain control to shift back. It feels like it’s not mine.”
She clutched the sides of his head and hummed low in her throat. Her magic pricked at his skin like static, and her nails digging into his scalp reminded him of the carnage the Grunch had committed. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.
“It’s strong, and it’s yours. You have a block, though.” She released her grip and drifted toward a table filled with glass bottles, dried herbs, and copper containers. She crushed some herbs with a mortar and pestle and mixed them with a yellow liquid in a bowl before bringing it to his bedside.
“Drink this.” She offered it to him.
He hesitated, eyeing the bowl and arching a brow. “What is it?”
“A potion to open your mind.” She grabbed his hand and shoved the bowl into his grasp. “Drink it.”
He gazed at the steaming concoction and curled his lip. No way in hell was he consuming this without knowing what it was. “You want me to take drugs. What’s in it? Is it LSD? Mushrooms?”
“It’s magic.” The witch huffed and glared at the two-way mirror.
“Drink the potion, Noah,” Mr. Mason’s voice boomed over the intercom.
Noah knew better than to disobey an alpha—especially one with a seat on the congress—so he pressed the bowl to his lips and swallowed the syrupy liquid. There was definitely some kind of root in there, as he could taste the earth and the sharp, bitter flavor of mold. He fought the urge to gag and handed the bowl to the witch before lying back and closing his eyes.
His head spun, the magic instantly taking hold and making him dizzy as all get-out. His stomach lurched, and he coughed, rolling to his side in case his lunch decided to make a reappearance.
Helga began chanting, either in a language he didn’t understand, or the drugs were making her speech sound foreign. He couldn’t tell which. The air in the room thickened, buzzing with electricity as the witch’s magic built. She clutched his head again, rolling him onto his back and sending a jolt of energy straight through his skull and into his brain.
He was falling. Darkness consumed him for a moment before stars glittered all around. Then he splashed down into a sea of inky blue, the water flowing over his head until it was impossible to breathe. He struggled in his mind, swimming toward a light above the surface, but the harder he kicked, the farther away the light seemed.
As he hung weightlessly in the empty abyss, an image formed in his mind. Amber’s sweet smile danced behind his eyes, and he rose, breaking the surface and gasping for breath.
“Now shift,” the witch’s voice grated in his ears.
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and willing Amber’s face to stay in his view. If the potion made him see her, there had to be a reason.
“S
hift, Noah. That’s an order.” Mr. Mason’s voice filled the room, and he was compelled to obey.
He called on the beast, his wolf, according to the witch, and he transformed. The wolf snarled, standing on the bed, the shackles magically tightening around his legs. He locked his gaze on the witch, and though Noah struggled to gain control, he was nothing more than a subconscious energy going along for the ride. The wolf rocked back before springing toward her.
The restraints held, and the bed toppled over, sending the wolf crashing to the floor. He scrambled to his paws and lunged again, dragging the bed as he prowled toward her. Noah tried to take over. He willed his body to shift, but the potion had rendered him powerless against the beast.
The door swung open a moment before Mr. Mason shifted and barreled toward him. The alpha growled, a deep vibration resonating from his chest, and placed himself between the witch and Noah’s wolf, baring his teeth and looming toward him.
Thank the heavens Luke had trained the wolf to submit. He lay on his belly, resting his head on his paws and letting out a low whine. As the wolf relinquished control to the alpha, Noah grabbed on and forced the beast to release his hold.
Returning to his human form, Noah sat on the floor, unable to stand due to the restraints. “I’m sorry,” he said to both Helga and the alpha.
Mr. Mason shifted and knelt beside him. “Are you in control now?”
“Yes, sir.” He lowered his head.
They removed the restraints, and Noah helped Mr. Mason right the fallen bed before he led them into an office next door. Noah sank into a wooden chair while Helga and Mr. Mason conversed.
“What’s the verdict?” the alpha asked.
Helga frowned at Noah. “The wolf belongs to him, as I said. However, it has not joined with his soul. This is why he lacks control.”
“Any idea how this happened?”
“The wolf should not have been awakened. I sense magic was involved, which made the transformation go awry.”
Mr. Mason’s brows slammed down over his eyes. “Do you know anything about this?”
Noah’s heart sank into his stomach. How much longer could he keep his secret? “Both Amber and I feel like Nylah is alive somewhere. That’s all I know.” He lowered his gaze to his lap, afraid the alpha could sense his lie.
