The Prelude

by Sammie Joyce

  “Shall we get started?” Damien asked, gesturing for the community to sit in their respective places in the snow. Most had taken on their animal forms, if only for warmth against the bitter December cold but Aspen and I remained in our mortal forms, eye-to-eye.

  “Yes,” Aspen breathed. “Let’s get started already.”

  Ice sheeted the entire forest, creating a haunting yet unnerving beauty. I couldn’t get enough of the landscape and I sketched furiously, determined to turn the drawings into paintings.

  I barely noticed Aspen had walked into the studio until she was standing at my side, her belly almost touching my shoulder as I peered out of the wide windows.

  Starting at her nearness, I turned my head, my eyes wide with concern.

  “I wish you hadn’t trekked out here from the house,” I sighed. “You could have slipped on the ice or—”

  “I shifted for the walk,” she interjected. “You forget, I’ve been living these winters since birth.”

  Sheepishly, I smiled.

  “I’m not being condescending,” I told her quickly. “I’m just worried.”

  I cast my book aside and wrapped her in my arms.

  “I’m worried too,” she confessed and I heard the alarm in her tone. “What if the baby—”

  Abruptly I pulled back and held up my hand.

  “No,” I said flatly. “We’re not doing this again. I won’t let you worry about what might happen.”

  I could have killed the entire commune for worrying Aspen so terribly about our child. At first, it had just been whispers of what happened with interbreeding shifters but as the months passed, the elders became more brazen about confronting her with all the problems that might arise.

  “Why didn’t I know about any of this before?” she muttered. “I didn’t even realize that we could mate or…”

  She trailed off and looked away.

  “Or you would have been more careful? You would have ignored me?” I teased her lightly, even though my pulse was racing in my ears. To say I wasn’t terrified would be a huge lie. Artemis had insisted that everything was going smoothly and Aspen had been in good spirits and health. There were no outward indications that anything was amiss with the baby but I had also come to learn that didn’t mean anything.

  We might not know there was a problem until the actual point of birth.

  I tried to shove aside my misgivings.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d known,” Aspen confessed. “But I can’t help but feel like there’s this cloud of doom hanging over us.”

  I was unexpectedly hurt by her confession.

  “Funny. I was thinking the exact opposite,” I replied softly, again pulling her into my arms. I didn’t fault her for being so uneasy. She lived with a constant reminder of what might go wrong every second of every day. It was my job to alleviate her stress and put her mind at ease in any way I could.

  “I was thinking that our lives are incredible, that I’ve found and married my mate, discovered an entire clan in a beautiful place where we can raise our child in peace.”

  She looked up at me hopefully.

  “How are you not worried?” she breathed and somehow, I managed yet another winning grin.

  “Because you are the strongest female I’ve ever known, Aspen and if other shifters have birthed interbred children, you certainly can.”

  A wan beam formed on her lips.

  “I am pretty strong,” she chuckled and for the first time in weeks, I saw her eyes lighten. “And I feel great.”

  “You look great.” I pressed my hands against her swollen belly and instantly, I felt the heavy kick of a foot against me.

  “Ha!” I chortled, pride seizing me in a torrent. “You’re not the only one who’s strong! Did you feel that?”

  “It was under my ribs,” Aspen giggled. “I felt it.”

  We laughed, our hands pressed to her stomach as our child continued to practice his karate moves.

  I’m not wrong, I told myself firmly. If anyone can see this through, it’s Aspen and our baby. Everything is going to be all right.

  Why, then, did I still feel the same dark cloud as Aspen, tickling the nape of my neck?

  “We haven’t discussed names with any real seriousness,” Aspen said.

  “No, we haven’t. Let’s do that now.”

  I led her toward the window and picked up my sketch book, flipping to a new page, my pencil poised.

  “Enoch,” I announced and Aspen eyed me with contempt.

  “I hope you’re joking,” she said sternly. “This is going to be our only child, Philippe. I think we can do better than Enoch.”

  I tittered but her words affected me deeply.

  Was this really going to be our only child?

  Somewhere, deep down, I had always longed for a big family, perhaps to make up for all that I’d lost but I knew my wife was right—we couldn’t risk another pregnancy like this.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes as if resigning,

  “Fine,” I said with feigned exasperation. “What would you name him?”

  She met my eyes squarely.

  “You know it will be a boy too, don’t you?” she asked and I nodded.

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  Aspen visibly swallowed.

  “Me too,” she breathed. “I want him to have a strong name, one that shows all he’s had to overcome.”

  I relished in her optimism. Her mind was shifting away from the negative and she was beginning to look toward the future. I took this as a good sign, naïve as it was.

  “Rock?” I suggested, only half-kidding.

  “Closer,” she agreed and I jotted it down on the pad. “Blaze?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “Maybe.”

  Suddenly our heads jerked up simultaneously and we stared at each other in a “Eureka!” moment.

  “Flint!” we piped out together. Huge smiled broke out over our faces and we chuckled.

  “We’ve still got it,” I jested, putting the pad aside to kiss her forehead sweetly. Her body instantly melded against mine and my fingers twined through her mass of hair.

  “Flint,” I repeated softly, my breath heated in her ear. “He will set the world on fire.”

  Aspen didn’t answer but I felt her body shudder with emotion.

  For several minutes, we sat in one another’s arms, pretending that we weren’t scared to death about what the next couple months would bring but no amount of ignoring would prolong the inevitable. In two months, the moment of truth would arise and I had no idea if we were prepared for the worst possible outcome.

  9

  Locklear

  Pain can be an excellent motivator, something I hadn’t fully understood until I made my way up through Northern British Columbia, my shoulder and leg on fire.

  I shouldn’t have been moving, let alone running through the wilderness, the tattered remains of my Army jacket clinging to my shoulders but there was no time left to rest or recover. I’d already spent far too much time in sick bay and getting the Army to send me home had been red tape that I had never considered. I probably would have had an easier time sneaking into Vietnam on my own than enlisting as I had.

  Blood seeping through my wounds and I knew the one in my shoulder was infected for certain but at least I was still able to use my leg.

  Being in the dense woods of northern Canada, I was finally able to shift into my wolf form, thereby allowing me more speed and agility over the rough terrain but I was losing far too much blood.

  You’re almost there, I told myself over and over. The hard part is done. Don’t stop now.

  But it wasn’t a good pep talk and I could feel myself weakening with every step. The deep mud of spring didn’t help my cause as I struggled to move through the brush and swamp but somehow, I was surging forward, making it through.

  My well-honed sixth sense told me I was close to the place I’d always called home even if my vision was skewed and my head s
wimming in delirium and post-traumatic stress. There would be enough time to take care of myself after I got to Aspen.

  Or at least that was what I kept telling myself.

  The artemisia vulgaris was packed tightly away in my coat even though it had been almost impossible both to find and smuggle home.

  But I had it and that was the most important thing.

  Abruptly, I stopped running, my snout raised into the air.

  I knew I was still miles off from the compound but Aspen was here. I could sense her.

  Or was I just losing my mind now? There was no time to debate my own instincts. I just had to make a move, one way or another, before I lost consciousness and I knew that was coming faster than I expected.

  Suddenly, I saw it, the newly built house on what had once been unoccupied land and without thinking, I stumbled toward it. I shouldn’t have stopped. Losing momentum had killed the adrenaline and now my movements were sluggish, uneven and labored.

  Black spots began to dance before my eyes but I needed to knock, let someone know I was there.

  What if mortals live there? You need to shift back, a sensible voice screamed at me but there was no reasoning with me now.

  My legs finally gave up and my face fell into the door, tongue lolling out from between my fangs as darkness encroached upon me.

  I was going to die there, I was sure of it but even that thought couldn’t keep me from succumbing to the abyss.

  10

  Aspen

  A bolt of electricity spiked down my spine and I gasped aloud, jerking in my chair.

  “What is it?” Philippe demanded, alarm lighting his eyes. “Is it the baby?”

  I didn’t respond but I leapt from the chair where I’d dozed off.

  “ASPEN!” Philippe yelled, hurrying after me but I was already at the front door, pulling the heavy wood open to stare in disbelief at the threshold.

  “LOCKLEAR!” I screamed, dropping awkwardly to my knees to help up my bleeding, broken friend. “Philippe, help me!”

  My mate gently moved me aside and scooped up the heavy wolf as if he weighed nothing, pulling him into our house and closing the door in his wake.

  As if on cue, a rumble of thunder echoed across the landscape and goosebumps assaulted me in a torrent.

  I watched as Philippe pulled off Locklear’s jacket and gasped in horror at the bullet-riddled body.

  “He’s been through hell,” Philippe murmured, tossing the jacket aside. As the garment fell to the muddied floors, something fell out of a pocket and I immediately bent down to pick it up.

  “What is it?” Philippe asked but his attention was only on the dying wolf before them.

  “I don’t know,” I breathed. “But I need to find Artemis right away.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad to hear the howling moans escaping Locklear’s lips as he rolled around, in and out of consciousness as Artemis worked on him. I was glad he was making noise but at what cost? How much pain was he in?

  “Oh you fool!” I sobbed, gnawing on my knuckle in deep worry. “What were you thinking?”

  “You shouldn’t be here, Aspen,” Artemis told me. “It’s not good for the baby.”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” I cried and plopped myself at Locklear’s side, willing him to wake up.

  “Aspen, he has an infection. The bullet in his shoulder has most certainly caused a staph infection inside his chest cavity. If it hasn’t spread to his heart yet, it will in a matter of hours.”

  “No!” I cried. “Go into the towns! Get some antibiotics! Medical supplies! Whatever it takes.”

  Artemis sighed and shook his ageing head.

  “Even if I could find those things, it will be too late,” he replied simply. “Locklear is dying.”

  I couldn’t accept that. How could he be dying when I just got him back? Why did the universe mock me by giving me my mate and taking away my brother?

  “Did he bring the root?” Artemis asked suddenly, bringing me back into the room and I looked at him uncomprehendingly at first.

  “What?”

  “Did he have a root on him?” the deer shifter asked a different way.

  “Yes.” Philippe answered, making sense of the question before me. “What is it?”

  He produced the satchel we’d found and laid it before Artemis. The ancient shifter grunted.

  “Well? What is it?”

  “It’s not enough,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not for two.”

  “For two what? Artemis, what are you saying?” Philippe snapped, angered by the shaman’s riddles. Artemis didn’t answer but he gave me the strangest look I’d ever seen—and that was saying a lot for the odd healer.

  “It’s artemisia vulgaris. It’s been known to grant super-healing and super-immunity in shifters.”

  My expression was blank. None of his words made any sense but then again, nothing really was at that moment.

  “Can it fix him?” I demanded, hope overcoming me as I realized that we might be able to save Lock after all. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  Artemis shrugged with a nonchalance that made me want to throttle him but he nodded thereafter.

  “In theory,” he replied. “But Locklear didn’t go all that way to take the root himself.”

  Again I found myself gaping at Artemis, wishing he’d speak in coherent sentences.

  “Artemis,” Philippe growled. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that Locklear left here to find this root for Aspen and her baby. There is not enough here for two shifters. There is barely enough here for one.”

  I was dizzy suddenly and Philippe rushed to my side as I swooned.

  “That’s why he left so suddenly?” I choked in disbelief. “T-that can’t be right. I didn’t even know I was with child before he left!”

  Artemis tittered.

  “I did,” he reminded me and I howled in fury.

  “You knew where he was all along and you didn’t say a word!”

  “It wasn’t my place to say. He left on his own accord,” Artemis replied.

  “You’re horrible!” I wailed even louder, burying my face in my hands as Philippe tried to comfort me.

  “Aspen, stop screaming,” Locklear whispered and my head jerked up to stare at him.

  “You’re awake!” I gasped, pressing my hands to his face. “Oh gods, you’re alive!”

  “Not for long,” he quipped with bemusement.

  “Don’t say that!” I snapped, reaching for the sac of artemisia vulgaris and glowered at Artemis. “How should this be taken? In a tea?”

  “No. The whole root must be consumed,” Artemis explained and I pulled the dirty plant from the casing.

  “Eat this, Lock,” I urged. “This will help you recover. Come on, sit up.”

  “No,” he rasped. “No, that’s for you and your baby.”

  Tears swam wildly in my eyes and I could barely make out his face but I tried to force it into his mouth.

  “Please,” I begged him. “I will never forgive myself if you died for this.”

  His hands found mine and he removed the root from my trembling palms, handing it to Philippe who stood by in mournful silence.

  “And I would never have forgiven myself if I knew I could have saved you and didn’t,” he breathed, his words choked and uneven. “I just ask that you think of me fondly but only once in a while. I won’t have you clouded with sadness at the thought of me.”

  I sobbed, shaking my head at the unfairness of it all.

  Locklear turned his eyes toward Philippe.

  “You will take good care of her,” he ordered and Philippe nodded, his own eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “He has been,” I promised. “He’s so good to me.”

  Locklear managed a half-smile and to my surprise, he sat up. I looked at Artemis in surprise.

  “He’s healing!” I cried with too much excitement but the shaman sadly shook his head.

  “He is not,” Art
emis assured me. “He’s fighting against the infection but it will be a losing battle.”

  “I’m ready,” Locklear interjected. “But I won’t have you crowded by my bedside, waiting for me to draw my last breath. Philippe, I understand you’re quite an artist.”

  My head whipped around to take in Philippe’s stunned expression.

  “I-I have been doing well,” he confessed.

  “Then you should show me some art to take my mind off things,” Locklear murmured. Rain pelted against the windows but in the distance, I could see the sunshine trying to break through the ominous, gray clouds.

  “I would be honored to show you my art,” Philippe said quickly, turning toward the door. “I’ll bring in some things from the studio.”

  “No,” Locklear said, ambling to his feet. “It will get ruined in the rain. I’ll come with you.”

  “Lock—”

  He held up a hand to silence my protest and shook his head.

  “I’m not laying around waiting for death,” he insisted. “Show me.”

  Biting on my lower lip with so much force, I drew blood, we flanked him and in slow, laborious steps, made it to the studio. All three of us were soaked by the time we got to Philippe’s studio but Lock maintained a serene smile on his face as if there was no place he’d rather be.

  “Aspen wasn’t lying,” he agreed, looking admiringly at the canvasses sprawled through the bright barn studio. “You are extremely talented.”

  “I have a good muse,” Philippe commented, slipping a hand around my waist and pulling me against him. He could sense my deep sadness and was trying his best to take it away from me.

  “I owe you an apology,” Locklear said quietly. “You aren’t weak. You can’t be if you are mated to someone as strong as Aspen. I’m sorry I ever said that.”

  Philippe blinked in surprise.

  “I wasn’t aware you had,” he replied and I swallowed a smile for the first time since finding Locklear on my doorstep.

  “Well then,” Lock chirped. “I guess I don’t owe you an apology at all.”