"Probably a veil," Grace chimed in.
Cara nodded. “But he does remember them asking the guys to join them in a prayer circle, and the next thing he knows; he's back home and can't remember how he got there. Every night there was an attack, he would get a phone call telling him where to go and who to attack. His legs would take him there; he couldn't control his movements after he received the phone calls."
"So it was a compulsion curse,” said Eileen.
"Oscar said he tried to tell you all of this while you were fucking torturing him, but no matter how hard he tried, no words came out. He couldn't even talk about the attacks with the men he committed them with."
Grace asked, "Did the witches ever tell him who they were attacking or why?"
Cara shook her head. “Three or four of the human supremacists would be drawn to a meeting place and then they would just cruise around Wildwood until they found their target. Oscar said they usually got a vague description of the woman, but the curse would draw them to their victim. Just like the curse drew him to the meeting spot."
"So they were after women? Not wolves. Does he have any information about the kidnappings? Could they be related? Why would someone just want to fuck up Wildwood?" asked Eileen.
Cara shook her head. “I asked about the girls. He doesn't know anything. And he was never told to kidnap anyone."
"What did they do with the phones and wallets they stole?"
"Oh, now that, that was all them. He said he kept the shit he stole."
"So he's not completely innocent," heath snapped.
"I hardly think stealing a cell phone justifies your level of brutality. And, I would like to point out," Cara said, turning to Grace, "witches were behind the assaults, and probably the kidnappings, not humans."
"No one has tied the kidnapping to what Oscar did. And humans are monsters too."
"I'm going to cut our friend loose and let him get dressed." Cara stepped back inside and closed the door.
Grace felt defeated. “I feel like he just gave us more questions than answers."
"Our packs are safe. But if they were attacking specific women, and their victims were witches, then you're still in danger, Grace." Heath ran his hands through his hair.
She leaned her head against his arm. “I'm not in any hurry to go home."
The cabin door slammed open and Cara walked out with Oscar. “Let's go, Cain." Cain nodded his head and turned toward the car.
"No," Oscar screamed, "not him! He was there that night."
"Malcolm?" Cain looked to the other wolf.
Malcolm's black eyes danced between Cara and the prisoner, "Fine. But I want him wrapped in a sheet; he can't fuck up the leather."
"You're coming with us?" Oscar looked at Cara with wide eyes.
"Yes. Let's go. I'm done with all of this wolf bullshit."
Grace watched as the taillights disappeared into the woods. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face the camp. Her sisters were gone, and nothing was solved. She still felt exposed and unsafe. Well, she was hidden and protected as long as she stayed here. She didn’t want to leave, but it would be nice to have the option.
Heath took her hand and they walked into the lodge together. The pack sat in the living room watching a movie and drinking beers. Everything was normal in here. And she was part of their ‘normal’ now.
The men on the couch shuffled to make room for her. She sat down next to Ben; he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Heath took the space on the other side of her, resting his hand on her thigh. Neil slid to the floor to sit at her feet, wrapping an arm around her leg. Sampson propped his feet on the coffee table and gave Grace a mischievous smirk. West wandered over and rested his head on her knee.
Grace melted into the couch, leaning her head back. She had never felt so content. Who could have guessed that the pack would take her in, care for her, and maybe love her? She never wanted to leave, and she knew that she had a place here.
They were all still piled around the couch when Grace's cell phone buzzed. Cara. Grace answered the phone, and her heart constricted at Cara’s words. “What do you mean Brianna's gone?"
CHAPTER TWELVE
CARA
Cara glanced at the man next to her. The car was completely dark, but the lights from the dashboard partially illuminated his face. He was impeccable: strong jaw, clean shaven, not a hair out of place. She had never seen a wolf like him; Cara almost couldn't believe he was one.
The engine revved sending a steady rumble through the car. Malcolm shifted the car, momentarily calming the engine. He continued to accelerate, and the engine's vibrations fluttered through the passenger seat. Cara's chest tightened as Malcolm shifted again.
She needed to get out of this car.
Malcolm slowed, stopping his sports car in front of her house.
The car had barely come to a stop before Cara flung open her door and raced up the front steps. Something was wrong. The front door was wide open.
"Brianna!" Cara screamed as she dashed through the house looking for her sister. She returned to the dining room, chest heaving. Malcolm stood in her front doorway. “Malcolm, what do I do?"
"You can't stay here."
AN UNTAMED WITCH
SOMETHING WICKED
BOOK THREE
Liza Mitchell
Published by Feather & Bleed Press, 2019.
CHAPTER ONE
CARA
“Brianna!” Cara screamed, feeling helpless. “Malcolm, what do I do?”
“You cannot stay here.”
“I have to find her. She has to be here, please help me look,” she pleaded.
“Cara, you know that’s not true.”
“Just double check. Sometimes things are right in front of you, and you still miss them. Maybe she’s hurt, and I walked right past her!” Cara was frantic. Malcolm could find Brianna. Malcolm would find Brianna.
He stared at Cara, then turned to walk out of the room. “I’ll look for her. See if anything is out of sorts.”
Both knew that Brianna was not in the house. It was two o’clock in the morning, and the front door of the LeFay house had been wide open when they pulled up. Cara needed to do something to feel less powerless. And she was pretty sure Malcolm was just going through the motions for her benefit.
She turned around and looked for clues. Her eyes swept over the living room. It was absolutely torn apart; not a single thing was in its proper place. She’d already been to Brianna’s bedroom, and it was just as chaotic. A giggle escaped from her lips, and she slowly erupted in laughter; Malcolm’s instruction was utterly absurd. That fucker mocked her, and she had completely missed it. Fucking everything was out of sorts.
Regardless, she needed to do something. Cara had so much nervous energy that she felt like she would crawl out of her skin if she didn’t get moving. She paced around the living room. There was no blood. Good. There were no bullet holes. Also good. Although, if the gun had been a small caliber, they probably wouldn’t be that noticeable. Maybe she should run her hands along the wall feeling for bullet holes? Nope, that’s stupid. Obviously, no one had been hit because there was no blood. Son of a bitch, she needed to clear her brain to take a breath.
Brianna was gone. She didn’t go willingly. Two other women her age had gone missing around their small town in the last few days. She knew from news reports that the victims had nothing in common and the police believed they were chosen just because they were in the right place at the wrong time. Brianna had been out partying, like she did every other night of the week. She would have walked home alone. So the attacker waited until she got in the house? Not just that, they let her get all the way to the bedroom. Brianna’s assailant might not have found her walking home; he had already chosen her and was waiting in the bedroom. Or he found the house dark and quiet after Brianna had gone to sleep. Or he attacked Brianna outside, and she tore through the house trying to get to something important in her bedroom.
Cara was goi
ng to drive herself mad. She didn’t even want to think about what had happened to Brianna after she had been kidnapped. Why didn’t we microchip humans? Can’t lose Fido. But, Aunt Mary? Fuck her. Wait, Brianna might have something just as good as a microchip.
Cara darted to the kitchen table where Brianna’s purse sat, excited by her absolute brilliance. She picked up the bag and rifled through it. Her wallet, keys, and cell phone were all still in there. So much for a ‘Find My Phone’ miracle.
Malcolm reappeared in the dining room. “I didn’t find her. We should leave.”
She sighed. Cara barely knew him and had no desire to go stay on a compound full of wolves, but he was probably right. “I’ll go pack a bag.”
“You won’t need one. I’ll arrange to have things provided for you.” Malcolm placed his hand in the small of her back and gently escorted her to the door.
She dug in her heels. “I need my laptop for work, toiletries, clothes, underwear. You’re going to just have your assistant come out here and pick them up?”
“No, I think it would be easier for him to just buy you new ones.”
She blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
Malcolm shook his head. “His job is to make my life easy, and right now it would be easier if you left with me.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “No way. I’m packing. And there’s no real hurry to leave. If the kidnappers come back, I have the Big Bad Wolf to protect me.” Cara flushed; she was mocking him, right? Because flirting would be bad. Really bad.
But Malcolm didn’t ease up; he guided her out of the house to his car. He opened her door, and Cara compliantly bent down to crawl into his tiny sports car. Numbness was starting to set in. Brianna was gone, kidnapped. Grace was living with a pack of wolves in the woods. Eileen was thinking about taking a wolf as a mate. And they had all convinced themselves that they were vigilantes - because witches made crime fighters. Oh and, she was in a car with the most powerful wolf in the area, Malcolm, the New Haven Alpha.
She slid a glance over at the wolf. He looked like a handsome socialite from a bygone era. His short hair was neatly trimmed and slicked back. His face was cleanly shaven, exposing his angular jaw. Malcolm was dressed to the nines in a suit with a crisp white dress shirt—despite the fact that it was two in the morning and there was no reason to still have that get up on.
The neon blue glow of the dashboard illuminated his face, and his temples popped in and out as he ground his teeth together. They got onto the highway that led to New Haven, and he reached a hand down to shift the car into a higher gear. His knuckles faded to white as he gripped the knob.
Cara could not give two shits about cars, but this one was sexy. The inside glowed a soft blue, not only from the dashboard but also under the glove box and along the bottoms of the doors. It buzzed quietly until Malcolm accelerated, straining the engine. Then it roared, sending millions of sharp vibrations up through her seat.
Malcolm had a steady rhythm—shift into first, accelerate until the engine was begging for reprieve, shift, let the engine purr, accelerate, repeat. Through every stop and turn, Cara watched in awe as he deftly manipulated the powerful vehicle. Damn, she could almost appreciate cars; they just needed a manual transmission.
“Malcolm,” she asked cautiously, “what am I going to do?”
His face relaxed, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “My PA has already reported it to the police. You should call your sisters. Ransom will be here tomorrow. We will get her back.”
“You think they want money? There’ve been no ransom requests for the other two women, or at least the police haven’t shared that with the public. Do you know something we don’t know? Do you have the police chief in your pocket?”
Malcolm smiled at the road and chuckled. “Slow down. Your brain is like a race car on a track, flying in circles, starting a new lap before you’ve even analyzed the last.”
“First of all, my brain is not a car. Secondly, you analyze the race after all of the laps are done.”
“Touché. To answer your question, Ransom is a person. He’s my private eye and bodyguard. He’s one of the smartest and strongest people I know. He can find Brianna and bring her home. While I am friendly with the police, I’m not sure that they will share confidential information with me, but I will try to get as much information as I can.”
“Thank you,” Cara whispered. She was going to be indebted to this wolf.
Great.
Cara grew up in a household of witches, so she knew the supernatural world inside and out. It did not play by any rules. Creatures governed themselves for the most part, and the goddess did whatever the fuck she wanted. Cara wanted nothing to do with this world.
She’d been desperately trying to live a normal life for years. She’d been excited when her sisters had left their coven. It was easier for Cara to accept their practice when it didn’t include others. She trusted her sisters, but she didn’t trust other witches. Then, a new pack of wolves moved into Wildwood and weaseled their way into her family, dragging them back. And it seemed like she was next. How could she accept all of this help from an Alpha and walk away? She knew creatures well enough to know wolves didn’t hand out favors.
“Cara. Cara.” She jumped in her seat; Malcolm was standing outside her car door and had clearly said her name a few times. “We’re here,” he said as he reached in to unfasten her seat belt. His arm pressed against her chest and she shivered when his fingers grazed the sliver of exposed skin between her jeans and t-shirt. Malcolm smelled like earthy, expensive cologne—vetiver, basil, and cedar wood. He pulled back, pausing to look at her, his mouth curved into a small smile. Cara scoffed, threw the seatbelt over her shoulder, and pushed her way out of the car.
They’d arrived at a goddamn mansion. The house was old, very old. In the 1920s, the surrounding area boomed with new construction when auto industry tycoons built extravagant vacation homes. Many of the houses were tall and narrow Victorians with round turrets, filigrees, and decorative trim. This estate must have been built by someone with ten times the wealth of the families who built in town. It was a damned Tudor manor. Cara turned in a slow circle, wishing they’d arrived in the daylight. Sandstone covered the building’s sprawling exterior. It had a deep grey slate roof, immaculate landscaping, and dozens of ornamental windows.
Malcolm guided her toward the massive front door and escorted her inside. The front hall was just as impressive as the exterior. She was in awe; the place was as pristine as a museum. Rich wood paneling covered the walls and twenty-foot ceiling. An ornate double staircase stood at the end of the hall, and a grand chandelier hung as the hall’s focal point. It was absolutely overwhelming.
“Malcolm, is this your home?” she asked breathlessly.
“It’s our home. It belongs to the pack. We built it in 1926. Back then, there were about two dozen of us, and we moved out to the country for security, to be left alone.”
“How many wolves are in your pack now?” she asked, wandering down the hall, eagerly peeking into every door she passed.
“Almost fifty,” he smiled. “We outgrew the house pretty quickly.”
“How could you possibly outgrow this place?” she asked over her shoulder, not stopping to hear his answer.
“In the beginning, a lot of wolves followed us out here. The country was open territory. I brought all of them into my pack because I had no desire to fight turf wars. At my peak, I had over a hundred wolves.”
“But you’re not worried about turf wars now?”
“Hell, no.” He laughed. “Times have changed so much.” Malcolm grabbed Cara’s elbow. “Come on, let me show you your room. It’s three a.m., you need to get to sleep.” He walked her up the stairs. “I promise you a full tour tomorrow.”
They passed by half a dozen doors before Malcolm stopped and opened one. He reached in and turned on the light, letting her enter the room first. She exhaled. The room was spectacular. Coral Tudor roses peppered the navy wall
paper. While coral accents were scattered throughout the bedchamber, brightening the otherwise dark room. She was speechless.
“Simon arranged for some essentials to be provided for you. The clothes are in the armoire and toiletries should be in the bath.” Malcolm pointed to a door on the other side of the room.
He turned to leave. “Wait!” Cara called after him. “What do I do when I wake up? Where do I go? What time are you meeting with Ransom? I’d like to be there.”
Malcolm strode over to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Cara, get some sleep. Everything will be okay. Just come to my office in the morning.”
She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest, breathing deeply. Sandalwood and basil. She exhaled, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you.”
She was so exhausted that she didn’t bother changing her clothes or looking for a toothbrush. As soon as Malcolm left the room, she stripped down to her underwear and crawled into bed.
Cara burrowed into the down comforter and stared at the ceiling. She started running through a mental list of all the things she could do tomorrow, should do tomorrow. Call the police herself. Set an alarm for the meeting with Ransom. Go back to the house to see if there was anything she missed. Talk to witnesses to the other kidnappings. Ask Malcolm about his police connection.
Malcolm. What the actual fuck was going on with him? She should not be here; she should solve this problem like a normal person—without the help of a powerful Alpha. But she was comfortable around him. When he’d finally pulled away from her embrace, she’d felt empty and alone. Her mind was always in chaos, like a pinball machine. And Malcolm seemed to have everything under control; nothing fazed him. She liked how calm he was. She had hugged him without even thinking. And she had felt safe in his arms. Fuck, she might be the next LeFay to fall for a wolf.
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