by Dee Garcia
I am.
I have to, I gave her my word, and my word is everything. If nothing else, I’m a loyal bastard, always make good on my promises. Yeah, I know—I owe this girl absolutely nothing, but I can’t ignore the restless sense of duty driving through me.
And believe me, I’ve tried.
Freeing this girl is an instinctive call. I need to do it.
Do I also want to? Yes.
Shit, if I could do it sooner, I would, but I’m trying to lay low and go about this rationally. Well, as rationally as possible anyway. My sister already made it clear that Hook caught on to what pulled me away so abruptly, and the boys all seem to agree that my disappearing act has probably left more of a sour taste in his mouth than he already had. If that didn’t sound the alarm once more, it—at the very least—had to have risen a few questions.
Which is why I’m biding my time.
The slightest hint that the pack and I are acting, and that bloodsucker will disperse his faithful leeches all over the island in an attempt to stop us.
So here I am, satchel caught between my snout as I trot briskly across the Woodlands to the East. Phase one—mapping out the escape route—is done and ready, leaving me to sort out phase two; mission essentials.
Number one? Clothes.
Sure would give some comic relief to the tense situation, but I’m not coming to her rescue with my dick swinging around—no matter how much my dick likes the idea. Because believe me, it likes it. A lot. I shouldn’t even have envisioned what Wendy would look like bouncing around on it, but the image came on faster than I could dissolve it.
So yeah, clothes are definitely an essential and that’s exactly what the satchel holds; a black t-shirt, a pair of dark wash jeans, and my claw knife. Soren already hid some shoes out for me, too. I could very well just haul it with me the night of, but I need to make sure Wendy’s okay. It’s all I’ve thought about since I left her there and my sleep has been shit because of it.
On the far East side of the island, where the land visibly shifts from the Woodlands to the Fairies domain, also lays the somber entrance to Onyx Hollow. I’ll have to travel through its ashen terrain to get to Hook’s Cascade, but for one, it’s faster, and two, avoiding those bloodsuckers is a sure thing.
They don’t cut through here, no one does. Pan might’ve been Rosewood’s greatest threat, but the Fae don’t sit too far behind in their eyes. They’re another ostracized species beholden to Rosewood, rotting away in their cursed strip of land for all their unthinkable sins.
Like most, I don’t care for them—kid killers—but I don’t fuck with them, either.
And they never fuck with me.
If they happen to see me, they simply turn the other cheek and allow me through. I have no reason to linger here, nor do I want to, and they know it. Hell, if they could scramble out themselves, they would without question.
There’s nothing here for them or anyone else.
Onyx Hollow is a total wasteland. Everything, and I do mean everything, has succumbed to the poison of this particular boundary spell. Grass hasn’t grown in ages, the foliage colorless, crispy, barren of any life. The trunks of the trees, while they still stand tall, appear corroded or covered in ash, and their leaves—much like the grass—have no coloration, either. A permanent mist and glum skies cover the expanse at all times, regardless of whatever blue skies and sunshine carry over the rest of the island.
Like I said, total wasteland.
Satchel still caught between my teeth, I brace myself for the maleficence awaiting my presence and take off in a full sprint, passing dozens upon dozens of dead trees along the way. Warbled, agonized cries of hunger instantly meet my ears amongst a rowdy flock of ravens, almost if they can sense me. I try focusing on the thrum of my pace, the way the shriveled foliage feels beneath my paws, but their misery has a mind of its own.
It wants to taint all it can possess.
Smashing my eyes together, I banish its claws from my mind and force myself to push harder. I’m literally at my limit, dodging trees, fallen limbs, and the odd ashen boulder every so often until I’ve crossed the border and begin the small climb up the cliffy, palm-riddled plains on the North-Eastern part of the island.
Once Hook’s castle comes into distant view, I slow my pace, crouching low to the ground as I maneuver my way around the darkness, taking full advantage of my ebony coat. Soon, the scent of salt water hits my senses from one second to the next, adding to the high that’s kept me going.
Wendy.
Almost there.
I don’t know how she’s going to react to seeing me in my wolf form, but I have to see her with my own two eyes. The current silence of the grounds means nothing to me, for it could mean so many things. Her safety isn’t guaranteed, just as much as my sister’s wasn’t either.
Right before the terrain peaks, I find a spot beneath one of the thickest palms, one with plentiful bushes surrounding its trunk, and make quick work of digging up a small hole.
The satchel goes inside.
The hole is resealed.
And then I’m off again, racing down the carved path in the cliff’s edge toward the barely concealed entrance that leads to Wendy.
It’s kind of pathetic—the fact they thought stacking a few boulders would deter one from seeking out what lay behind them. An amusing concept when Siren’s Cove is now sealed so tightly. My guess is, this part of the beach is technically private to Hook. Clearly, they didn’t assume anyone would be ballsy enough to be roaming its expanse.
Surprise, motherfuckers—I do what I want.
This was my island first.
Climbing up the rocky barrier, I jump down to the other side with ease and bolt through the darkened tunnel in another sprint. Only two or three feet in and it’s already pitch black, the white glow from the moon fading behind me until I’m surrounded by darkness. Luckily for me, I can still see.
Another shifter perk that comes in handy more often than not.
As I close in on the door, I slow my stride and center my hearing. Nothing, not even a pin drop can be heard, which leads me to wonder...
Is she still down here?
The possibility she isn’t rocks me to my core, thrashing my heart against my ribcage. I’ve feared it since the day I found her, have feared what would happen if Tinksley did decide to move her elsewhere. Truth be told, I’m as scandalized as my sister is about her behavior. We’ve always known Tinksley to be a sweet girl, but watching her interaction with Wendy has impelled me to view her through different eyes. I don’t trust her and that’s the most worrisome part.
Would she really hurt her or was that all for show?
C’mon, mama—please still let her be here. Please let her be safe.
Cantering toward the door, I’m relieved to find it still propped open with the small wooden plank I’d shoved between the jam. My snout won’t fit to pry it open, but a few swats of my paw and I’m able to jut it back, wedging myself inside the dewy confines of the dungeon with ease.
It’s as dark and silent as the tunnel. A quick yet deep whiff of the air assures there aren’t any vampires down here, either. Takes nothing more than a few careful steps, every sense hyper aware of my surroundings when I feel Wendy. Her heartbeat comes steady, breaths even as if she’s sleeping.
A good sign, but not enough to calm me.
Head low, I creep up to the edge of the shadows where the moonlight just barely pours in through the small windows, and seek her out. She’s there, in the same spot I found her, although I immediately note one main and highly significant difference.
The shackles are gone.
She’s free, unharmed, yet still sitting in a curled up ball. Seeing she’s alive and well assuages some of that anxiety for her well-being, but not all. She just looks so tiny and afraid. I wish I could read her mind and get a feel for how much damage has been done. The scars Tinksley and these leeches could leave behind are the worst kind, ones rooted so deep within the mind, som
e people never come back from it.
I hope like hell that’s not the case for Wendy, but I mean, look at her.
Stepping into the light, I scratch my nails against the concrete with purpose and offer a soft whine. Wendy flinches on a gasp, head snapping upward toward the unexpected sounds, those sky blue eyes of hers widening as she tightens her hold on her knees.
Her entire vibe plummets in seconds as controlled fear courses through her being. Just like the last time. I wouldn’t expect anything different—a wolf double her size just magically appeared feet away from her without a trace.
I need to calm her, show her she can trust me. Show her that it’s me. Hopefully she’ll remember.
Very carefully so as not to frighten her more, I sink to a lying position and cock my head aside, forcing another soft whine to establish my intentions.
I’m not going to hurt you.
Her eyes narrow questioningly, curiously, and then I see it, the moment recognition colors all of her angel-like features.
“T-Tavi?” she whispers.
I throw my head in a single nod and scoot a ways closer, tail wagging slightly from side to side. Wendy gasps and shuffles onto her knees, expression nothing short of awed as she takes me in.
“Oh my God. You really are a wolf.”
No shit, I think to myself, a chastising-like huff shooting out from my nose. Her cheeks redden as if she understands, a small, abashed smile stretching across her full lips. She scoffs a little laugh, too, and tentatively reaches out with a seeking hand.
The mere sight of her beckoning me has me scurrying closer in nothing flat. I’m not even fully at her side when she throws her arms around me, face burying deep in my coat around what sounds like a sigh of relief.
Not gonna lie—I feel myself almost melt into her too, my jaw falling to the top of her head.
Thank you, Ma. Thank you for keeping her safe.
“I didn’t think you’d really come back,” she admits, the words muffled against my fur. “Can we get out of here now?”
Shit.
It didn’t occur to me until then that my showing up could prompt confusion for her. I definitely can’t get her out of here tonight and I have no way of telling her as much.
Fuck!
I’m going to have to try, though.
Easing back on a whine, I give a firm shake of my head and watch the optimistic light fizzle out from her eyes.
"Y-you can't help me anymore?" Forlorn. Deflated. Helpless. That's the best way I can describe what she sounds like.
And it fucking kills me.
Knowing I can't be too loud, I yelp softly in protest and nod.
"So you can help?" she asks, the smallest flame of hope reigniting.
Another nod.
"But not tonight?"
"Standing out there for so long didn't clue you in?” a voice resounds from outside, cutting off my response. “She doesn't want to see you."
Wendy and I exchange a look, a knowing one at that, but remain silent. It's Tinksley.
Who she's talking to, well, you'll see...
"But I need to. I need to explain myself, need to apologize. What happened with Clara—it's the biggest mistake of my entire life. I'll regret it until the day I die."
Ah, yes. Phillipe.
Fae Lord, husband, father.
Cheater.
"Yeah, no kidding. I'd regret it, too,” Tinksley scoffs.
"I'm entirely serious, my darling. It weighs heavier on my mind than either you or your mother can understand. Please, you have to let me see her. I need to make this right."
"Do not. Touch me," Tinksley snaps, the grass crunching beneath her feet. "I'm not your darling, your baby girl, nothing—and you are absolutely out of your mind if you think I'm going to force her into seeing you. If you loved her as much as you claim, you never would've done what you did."
"It was a mistake, I swear it! Your mother and I got into a fight that night. My men and I crossed the portal, got a little too drunk—"
"Save it. I already know the story and it does nothing to excuse your appalling behavior. If anything, it proves you're like most men out there, mortal or otherwise; a little alcohol and you have less control over your dicks than you do sober. Fucking pathetic." The ice in her tone slices even through me.
Wendy cringes, too.
"Tinksley, " Phillipe grates.
"Don't Tinksley me. I'm not a child.”
"I know that, and as a woman who's in love, you're no stranger to following the heart. Please, let me see her. I need to make this right. I love your mother more than I could ever possibly explain to you."
"Not in this lifetime or any other," Tinksley grits malevolently. "You screwed up, royally, my Lord. That said, I’m not running in circles with you all night. This conversation is over. Please see yourself out."
"But—"
"But nothing. Get out, dearest father. Your presence is unwelcome on all accounts, mine included. No one cares to hear your perfectly fabricated sob story."
"It's not a sob story! It's the goddamn truth!" His counter rattles the air.
"And yet, I find that hard to believe when you couldn't tell the truth in the first place. Get out."
"Tinksley, please, you have to believe me! I never intended for you to—"
"Just give it up, seriously. Save. Your. Breath. And get the fuck out!" she roars.
Silence.
Wendy and I exchange another look. This is awkward yet oddly insightful.
Neither one of them speak, but sheer moments later, the crackling of grass rents the air. One of them is leaving.
"Oh and, Phillipe?" Tinksley stops him mid-stride, "Don't come back trying this again—and those are the Captain's orders."
His footsteps resume, growing further and further away as he stalks back to the front of the palace. Tinksley’s movement shortly thereafter is nothing more than a whoosh.
Fucking leeches and their flashing bullshit. Probably the one and only thing I do find myself envious of. If wolves could move that quickly too...Well, let’s just say they’d be screwed.
“That was her dad, right?” Wendy whispers.
I nod.
“That was Peter’s dad, too.” A rhetorical question this time, more a statement than anything else.
I nod again anyway because it’s the truth.
“I could vomit just thinking about it. I can’t believe he would…” She cringes, hand falling to her chest in disgust. “Enough about that. I’m not going there right now. You should go, though, Tavi, just in case Tinksley comes down here again.”
I know, yet I don’t want to leave her. If I could curl up beside her and act as a protective barrier until the night comes, I would.
But that wouldn’t end well.
Throwing my head against the side of her face, I give her the most reassuring nuzzle I can manage, silently willing my ma to look after her again. I’ll be back, I promise.
“Will I see you soon?” she questions softly, pale blues boring into my browns as I pull back.
Holding her stare, I rise from my seated position onto all fours and offer another sure nod. Like I said, my word means everything. I don’t care what it takes to get her out of here, I will.
Wendy will be free.
And then she’ll be yours.
The faintest thought, a fleeting whisper that rolls through my mind, but one that would recur and soon possess me no less.
I just didn’t know it yet.
♫ Game of Survival - Ruelle ♫
Feels like it’s been days since I last saw Tavi, but really, it was just last night.
I’ve been laying here since, only moving long enough to relieve myself in that disgusting bucket when the pressure in my bladder becomes unbearable. Even through the slight cramping that emerges in its place, I’ve laid here like a rotting vegetable staring up at the stone ceiling as I attempt to count the days. If I’m correct, I’m due for my cycle any day now.
I want to die just
thinking about it. If the ground opened up to swallow me whole, I’d probably jump in without hesitation.
Whether Tavi breaks me out of here or not, how am I supposed to deal with that here? I mean, yes, there’s other women here but how do they—
You’ll cross that bridge when you get there.
Yes, my subconscious is right. Fretting over it isn’t going to do or change anything, I suppose. Besides, I’m not sure how much more I can fret in the first place. My nerves are shot to all shit, especially after Tinksley’s rude awakening last night. I’m an anxious wreck, always sleeping with one eye open. If I get a solid four hours in one night, it’s a miracle. The exhaustion is real, to say the least, which in turn kills what little appetite I have.
I’m thankful to at least be given something to eat, and I do try, knowing I need to preserve my strength, but past a few nibbles and I’m nauseous.
Could be because I’m starting to smell. I’m dirty, my hair’s a mess. After the initial post-Armand clean-up, the old woman’s presence has been solely to deliver my food. Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s Tinksley’s doing, but that’s not what’s important.
What’s important is keeping my head above water for just a little longer.
Clearly, this is a game of survival and the only way I’m going to win is if I’m present. Knowing help is on the way, only makes me that much more determined to see it through. I know it’s beyond illogical and probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever done—to instill my faith in a complete stranger—but everything about Tavi screams that I can trust him.
I don’t know what it is, couldn’t possibly try to explain it to you. He just is. I feel it in my bones, as ridiculous as that sounds. It’s like there’s some sort of invisible twine luring me toward him.
Such kind brown eyes. My first thought of him echoes in my mind, sparking an image that seems to warm me all over. Slightly almond-shaped, nestled beneath keen, dark brows; those eyes tell it all.
Ones that softened and shot up to his forehead when he got a good look at me. It was right then I felt this calming wave, like a gust of wind that ripples past you on a warm summer’s day.
Even in his wolf form he had that effect on me.
