“Now you know how I feel,” I told her.
“Warn a person before you’ve scared them half to death,” Blaire said. “You’re an awful right pox you know that?”
“No, but, I’m gathering it’s an insult.” He grinned.
Blaire rolled her eyes. “Make yourself useful and open the boot, I’ve bags to dump in.” She gestured towards the trunk.
Wren lifted the trunk and offered to take Blaire’s gear before dropping his own bag in. The sound of gravel crunching caught our attention, and we all looked down the lane as Ryker and Hailey pulled up in a large white GMC Denali. Ryker pulled the truck up beside Wren’s Firebird, put it in park but left it running while he slid down from the driver’s seat. He parked his sunglasses on top of his head, walking over to shake Wren’s hand. Hailey stayed in the passenger’s seat.
“You’re taking the Trans Am?” Ryker asked, eyeing Wren’s car.
“She made it all the way from Washington, I think she can handle a couple hour’s drive to the coast,” Wren said.
“I’ve got plenty of room in the truck if you guys would rather ride with me.”
“No thanks,” Blaire said. “The Firebird is more than adequate.”
I raised my eyebrows. Blaire must have really had it out for werewolves, considering the comments she’d made yesterday about Wren’s car being too conspicuous. Not that I was protesting. I didn’t want to ride with Ryker and Hailey, either.
Bryna came out of the cabin then and gave the big werewolf a thorough once over with her glacial eyes. He introduced himself and reached for her hand. She hesitated before taking it. “Tough crowd,” Ryker commented.
“We’re not here to entertain you,” Bryna said. “This isn’t a game. We’ve work to do and I don’t want you standing in the way of it.”
I watched the corner of Ryker’s mouth slide into a mischievous grin. He glanced at me. “Well then, White One, where are we going?”
“Uh, here,” I said, stepping forward. I fished a folded map out of the back pocket of my jeans and handed him the coordinates to the Firefly Light Station. “This is where we start.”
“What do you mean start?”
Hailey opened up the passenger’s side door of the truck and slid out, her boots crunching on the gravel as she landed.
This was the part I had been dreading trying to explain. “We don’t have an exact location,” I began. “My grimoire is spelled by star magic, and the enchantress who spelled it has only been revealing a few pieces of information at a time and only under starlight.”
Ryker’s dark eyes seemed to harden as Hailey crossed her arms over her chest. “Who is this enchantress you speak of?”
“Someone who is trying to help us destroy the amulet, and that’s all you really need to know.”
Hailey’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t actually know, do you?”
“She’d better,” Ryker said. “I’m not going on some wild goose chase–not when I have rogue werewolves to track down and question about the little stunt they pulled in the forest with those deer.”
“By all means, you’re welcome to stay behind,” Bryna told them.
“Look,” Wren said, squaring his shoulders, “I want to track those Weres down just as much as you, but right now our goal is destroying the amulet. Far as I’m concerned, that’s our first priority.”
Ryker bristled. Hailey reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. “Rhea wouldn’t have sent us on some bullshit mission to accompany them if she didn’t think it wasn’t worth the trouble. Wren’s right. We need to focus on the amulet. Maddox can candle the rogues.”
Ryker’s gaze shifted to Blaire and then turned back to Wren with a clenched jaw. “Fine. We’ll meet you at the light station.” He turned towards his truck then, and Hailey climbed up in the cab beside him.
“Can you guys please make more of an effort to be friendly with one another?” I said. “This isn’t easy for any of us, but we have to work together or else this isn’t going to work at all.” I was looking at Bryna as I said it.
She nodded and climbed in the backseat with Blaire as Wren and I slid into the front with him at the wheel. I hooked my phone up to the charger and used it to plug in the directions to the Firefly Light Station. It was a five-hour drive to the coastline, and with twilight settling over the forest, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the stars lit up the sky. As Wren pulled the Pontiac out onto the road, I pulled my grimoire out of my bag and ran my fingers over the symbol on the cover, waiting.
“Anything?” Blaire asked a couple hours later. Night had fallen, blanketing the sky in shadow. The clouds above were too thick to let the starlight shine through, but I remained hopeful that the symbol would light up any moment to give us our next clue.
“Nothing.”
Blaire leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the headrest so she could hear me above the noise of the engine and the road that stretched beneath the Firebird’s tires. When she touched my shoulder, a fresh floral scent filled my nostrils, and strength burrowed itself where uncertainty had been. I glanced over my shoulder, pressing my lips into a small smile.
“How old were you when your empath powers manifested?”
“Oh, not ten, if I recall.”
“That’s young.”
“Keep in mind Bryna and I were practicing as soon as we could talk. The women in our coven encouraged it and helped us hone our powers.”
I twisted in my seat so I could see her better. The glow of the dashboard glossed her pale face, lighting up the whites of her eyes. Freckles dotted her cheekbones, but you really had to be looking to notice them. Blaire’s features stood prominent on her face; large, bird-of-prey-like eyes and a slender slope of a nose positioned above full lips. Her face was striking–so much that I didn’t take note of the little things–like her freckles, or the small scar at the corner of her left eye.
“I wish I would have embraced my ancestry more after my mother died,” I admitted. “My mother and I practiced, but, nothing like what you described growing up. I think she was always afraid that the wrong someone might see. And after she died, I didn’t much feel like practicing.”
“We can’t change the past; we can only learn from it and hope to do better in the future.”
“Everyone says that.” I gave her a small smile.
“That’s because it’s true.”
Wren flipped his turn signal, slowing as we approached a gas station in the middle of nowhere. We’d been out of the mountains for about an hour now, and the terrain was flattening out into something unfamiliar. Wren pulled up to the pumps, down shifting the gears as he put the car in park and turned off the engine. “You guys want anything?” He glanced over his shoulder before letting his gaze rest on me.
“I could really use a coffee,” I said.
“Make that two,” Blaire said.
“Should I get one for Bryna for when she wakes up?”
Blaire looked over her shoulder at her sleeping sister. Bryna’s arms were crossed over her chest, her head tipped into a pillow that was propped up against the window. “She only drinks coffee in the wee hours of the morning,” Blaire said. “Thank you for offering, though.”
Wren nodded, and I watched as he slid out of the car and slipped his wallet from his back pocket, sliding his bank card through the machine at the pump.
“He hasn’t got a job does he?” Blaire frowned.
“No,” I said. “He worked for a construction crew his last summer in Washington though. He says he has some money saved up from that, but I doubt it’s very much–even with Niall’s inheritance.”
“Niall left him everything?”
I nodded, and then my nod turned into a frown. I waited until Wren walked into the gas station before asking, “Um, Blaire, I wouldn’t normally ask, but, I was wondering if you’ve gotten a good read on his aura as of late?”
“You mean with how he’s coping?”
“Yeah. He says he’s fine, but I know he’s still having nightmares.”
“He’s hurting,” Blaire answered after a while, “but it’s not debilitating pain. He misses Niall, wishes he could have saved him. But you already knew that.”
I nodded again. “I probably shouldn’t have asked.”
“He’s more worried about you and what the amulet is doing to you. Of course, you don’t have to be an empath to figure that out.”
I drew in a shaky breath, exhaling slowly. “It comes in waves,” I said after a moment. “The Darkness, that is.” I looked up at Blaire. “There are moments when I feel strong and capable and in control, and… others when I don’t.” I glanced away from her eyes and gazed out the window, watching as Wren picked his way through the aisles, grabbing this and that on his way to the counter. “I’m not just scared for me,” I said, “but for all of us–for everyone counting on me to know what it is I’m supposed to do to stop this thing.” I thought about my dad, and Annabelle, and all our friends we’d left in the dark because it wasn’t safe to involve them. What would happen to them if I failed?
“We’re going to get through this,” Blaire told me. “No one expects you to have all the answers, Quinn. The White Witch chose you as her heir–remember that when doubt rears its ugly head.”
“Or when Bryna gives me that look–you know the one.”
Blaire chuckled. “I’ve been on the receiving end of that look all my life, but, Bryna means well. The world’s all Light and Dark for her, she doesn’t understand the in between. Never has.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Well it must be nice to feel so sure about something, regardless.” A white blur attracted my attention and I turned my head to see Ryker pulling up to the pump in front of us. Hailey was climbing down from the cab before he’d even cut the engine. She was heading for the gas station where Wren was depositing all our goods on the countertop and waiting for the clerk. She bumped her shoulder into his on her way to the ladies’ room. He turned his head, but his facial expression remained neutral.
“Werewolves,” Blaire said under her breath, watching Ryker trail in after them.
“That’s right,” I said, recalling the fact that she’d once dated one. “You owe me the rest of your story by the way.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Don’t lie to me, Blaire. You have a talisman ring that lights up, alerting you to their presence–correct me if I’m wrong, but most Supernaturals don’t carry those unless they have a reason. You told us that your family was sworn to protect the wolves of the Ossory bloodline and that you dated one…”
“Have you finished drawing your conclusions?”
“Hardly,” I teased. “Come on, Blaire. You started the werewolf one-oh-one crash course when you helped me get ready for the bar the other night; you obviously know more about them than I do. What was his name–the guy you dated?”
“Griffin Fáelad,” Bryna replied. I turned my head in her direction along with Blaire. Evidently she’d woken up and had been listening awhile. “Blaire was seventeen, and Griffin a year older. He was to be the next Alpha Master. I told her it was a bad idea to entertain the romance, but she wouldn’t listen. She thought he’d still be with her when his title took effect, but an alpha Were must take a female Were as his mate if he wants an heir.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught Blaire grinding her jaw.
“He was a bloody awful gobshite if you ask me,” Bryna continued. “Dropped her the moment he became Alpha Master.”
“That’s quite enough, Bryna, thank you,” Blaire said, tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear.
“I’m sorry Blaire, I didn’t–”
“No, it’s all right,” she said, cutting me off. “I was a fool for thinking I’d be an exception. Weres are loyal to their pack above all. Now you understand why I said witches and werewolves don’t mix, unless of course they’re the heirs of Luiseach and Conan. Excuse me,” she said, lightly pushing against the back of my seat. “I think I’ll go use the jacks.”
“Oh, sure,” I said, hopping out of the car so she could slide out from behind the seat.
Wren backed out of the door with his arms full, a bag of chips hanging from his teeth as Blaire strolled in past him. He looked at her, and then looked back at me, eyes narrowing. I pivoted on my foot, taking a step toward the gas station and stopped. What could I say to her now that would make what she’d gone through okay? Nothing. The answer was nothing.
I turned back towards the car, peering in the backseat at Bryna instead. “Do you enjoy pissing people off all the time?” I asked her.
“It needed to be said,” Bryna told me. “Weres don’t make for good company. She needed to be reminded, and it would do you just as well to remember. We can’t trust them. Betrayal is in their nature.”
“Right,” I replied, tongue snapping on the ‘T’. Wren was at the car now, depositing the coffee carrying case on the hood as he pulled the bag of potato chips from his teeth.
“What happened to Blaire?”
“Upset stomach,” Bryna said, “she’ll be fine after she visits the bathroom.”
I closed the car door with a little more force than necessary, tuning out the sound of Bryna’s voice. Wren lifted his signature eyebrow, lips puckering. “Okay, what did I miss?”
“What would you say if I told you I wanted to ride with Ryker and Hailey the rest of the way?”
“You want my honest reaction?”
I gestured for him to proceed.
“Initially, I’d say hell no. Secondly, after I calmed down, I’d want to know what was so bad to make you want to abandon ship and hang out with people you like even less than Bryna.” He cracked a glimmer of a smile.
“Short version–I just found out that Blaire’s ex-boyfriend was a werewolf that dumped her when he became Alpha Master, and Bryna is on her high horse about how we can’t trust werewolves because betrayal is in their blood, or whatever.” I waved a hand through the air.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” I reached up, pinching the bridge of my nose as I squeezed my eyes shut. Wren pulled me into his arms then, his chin resting on the top of my head. I breathed in the scent of his shirt, relaxing and feeling guilty for having him to cling to when things got rough and Blaire had no one.
Damn you, Bryna.
“Blaire never said anything to you before?”
“No.” I shook my head. “She’s kept her personal life fairly private.”
“Ignore Bryna,” Wren said, fingertips skating over the corner of my jaw. “She’ll either come around or she won’t. Not our problem.”
“Except for the fact that she’s with us, so she is in fact our problem.”
“Bryna’s issues stem from a sense of entitlement, that doesn’t have anything to do with you. Don’t let her get under your skin.” Wren’s hands slid down my back, gripping my waist as he pressed a tender kiss to my cheekbone, just below my eye.
“Get a room,” Hailey scoffed, shooting us a look before climbing back up into the cab of Ryker’s truck. Ryker was behind her, smirking. Blaire strolled out of the gas station, crossing her arms over her chest to fight the chill of the night air. Ryker watched her. Something in his expression changed. Softened, perhaps.
Wren pulled one of the coffees from the holder and handed it to her. “Two sugars, one cream, right?”
Blaire’s eyes lifted to his face, a genuine smile tugging at her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, “it was kind of you to remember.”
“I’ve got a roll of Duct tape in the trunk, you can use it to silence your sister if you want,” Wren added with a wry grin.
“Wren!” I smacked him in the shoulder, but Blaire and I were both laughing.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Blaire took a sip of her coffee, reaching for the door handle. I stepped out of the way, letting her slide back in.
“Two sugars, two creams,” Wren said, handing me a coffee cup. “You can’t say I’m not attentive.”
I grinned at him. “You’re a werewolf–nothing gets by you.”
“Hey, I pay attention to your needs.” He pretended to be offended. “Leave my abilities out of it.”
“Uh huh,” I said, slipping into the car. “Let’s get a move on, Wolf Boy; we still have a world to save.”
We reached the Firefly Light Station just a little after midnight. The parking lot was deserted–save for a lone silver car that was parked beneath a lamppost and looked as though it had been dumped there in the eighties and forgotten about. After giving it a thorough inspection and determining it was safe, Wren took off to do a perimeter check and Ryker followed. Two werewolf noses were better than one, and the rest of us waited in the parking lot for them to return.
I heard the calm water of the river inlet lapping against the dock and smelled the rich scent of salt in the night air. The light station, though no longer monitored, sat at the end of the dock about forty meters out into the marsh. The beacon on top of the structure rotated, flashing at odd intervals. I stretched my cramped muscles, and propped my grimoire on the back of the Pontiac, casting hopeful glances up at the night sky that was still obscured by thick clouds.
“Did you know that lighthouses all have flashing patterns that distinguishes them to mariners coming in from sea,” Blaire said beside me. “For example, this one appears to be on a twenty second interval, flashing only three seconds before repeating itself. That tells the mariner what lighthouse they’re approaching.”
The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Page 23
