by E Hall
Before I can think about why she’d want me to go up there without an explanation, the first matter of business is food.
I’m definitely in an older part of the city with its Bavarian-style buildings and cobblestone streets. To the west on the map is the newer part with illustrations of skyscrapers. Since I’ll probably have to take the train north, I’ll stick around here to find something I can eat.
I take a deep breath. I can do this. I can navigate this new place. Only, my nerves aren’t calmed. The back of my neck prickles. As I turn around, a figure wearing a dark and hooded cloak approaches. I can’t see their eyes, but whoever it is locks on me.
Electricity charges along my spine.
They’re only a few paces away. Like a good tourist, I don’t have any valuables within easy access, not that I have many of those, to begin with.
But the person steps into my personal space. My chest tightens. This time, instead of seeing red or feeling like I’m going to explode with a jolt of high voltage, my vision dims like I’m wearing sunglasses or like I’ve stepped into shadow.
The figure stops in front of me.
I don’t dare breathe.
I glimpse pale skin and strangely, pick up a damp, tweed-like odor when Mr. Billings, my math teacher, wore his tweed jacket on a rainy day. By the person’s stature and posture, they’re male. He looks around then retreats as though he doesn’t see me at all before disappearing into the early morning commuter crowd.
I don’t give myself time to think about what happened in case he comes back. Instead, I slip down the street, hurrying away when I knock into something as solid as a stone wall. I knock back and meet a pair of dark eyes belonging to a woman.
She smiles, baring a pair of very sharp teeth. The kind I’m pretty sure I saw on my mother. Strangely, her eyes are almost the same color as my mother’s, unique. But red veins lace this woman’s irises. No. That can’t be. My blood sugar must be low. I’m tired. Imagining things.
I run through scenarios as the woman’s smile grows. I feel myself leaning closer to her, almost magnetized. No, lured like weak prey.
I stagger back at the same time my skin seems to tighten. My bones ache suddenly. My vision goes blurry and then hardens.
The woman’s creepy smile fades.
A growl issues from deep in my throat.
She staggers back as though surprised by my response.
I move to step back into the flow of pedestrians, ready to cast her one more don’t mess with me glare, but she’s gone.
For a country with a reputation for having the most civilized citizens, so far, I don’t feel too welcome.
I need to find food, fast. Not fast food but something to take the edge off. I hustle along the sidewalk, looking for a market or deli.
I pass a building topped with an intricate clock with fine metal details. In the center are golden letters with the month, day, and year. For a moment I’m entranced as the pendulum swings back and forth in the center.
From my travels, I forgot the date.
It’s my birthday.
Forget something to take the edge off. I want cake. That chocolate cake that Concordia is supposedly famous for pops to mind. Yes, I want cake for breakfast. It’s my birthday. There are worse things, like nearly being accosted by weirdos in a new city.
The street narrows, and I enter a village square. The buildings are old-world white stucco with wood trim and thatched roofs, window boxes, and wooden signs.
I spot a bistro. That’ll have to do. As I step onto the cobblestones, the scent of sewer water slaps me in the face. Then I’m jerked backward and hit my head hard.
Chapter 6
Corbin
I thought I’d be flying to the United States, but the moment I arrived in Intherness, I sensed she’d come here. I’m all too aware of her.
I parked the Jeep by the train station. It was easier to spot Kenna Slade than I expected. My senses, alive in my body, registered her presence with an increase in my pulse and a hammering against my chest. I do my best to ignore it.
The early morning foot traffic should make it easy for me to fit in, but because of my stature, I stand out, well, up. I’m often a head taller and twice as muscular as people in the more populated parts of Concordia.
I went directly to the train station and found my mark—even with her back turned to me, I knew I’d spotted the MMW. My wolf senses came alive, confirming I’d found her. My wolf growled mine.
She was studying a map. I know that particular one like the back of my hand, having made it my mission to know every nook and valley of this country.
Her dark red hair grazed her shoulder blades and hung with loose curls. She was relatively petite but somewhat athletic—probably training to take over the magical world.
As she turned, determination solidified in her smoky eyes and bee-stung lips, which were the color of ripe cherries.
I honed in on her vitals—beating heart, inhalations, and exhalations as I mastered my own. At least the Slades hadn’t spawned a demon, especially since they’d recently been eradicated from the realms. My pulse jumped and it hasn’t stopped. This is the hunt.
I don’t know why I was expecting an ogre or a goblin or some other beast—I figured the byproduct of a fae, a vamp, and a shifter would be more mutant than gorgeous.
I grit my teeth as I recount the last few minutes upon arriving in Intherness and spotting her in front of the train station. No, she’s not gorgeous. She’s the enemy.
While she was still in front of the station, I felt her pulse quicken as surely as my own. My hackles lifted signaling danger. I moved closer, prepared to make a counter move if she dared to attack a human. My wolf commands protect.
I sensed a fae with ill intent in the vicinity. Must be Kenna. That means the fae in her is dominant. That’s outside my immediate jurisdiction, but as a Council member, I can stop her from causing humans harm if the fae representative on the Council doesn’t intervene.
However, she disappeared for a moment, went clean off my inner radar while the presence of the fae remained. Definitely odd.
A figure wearing a dark cloak glided toward the area, paused, and then moved on.
Kenna reappeared and hurried down the street. I followed at a distance, puzzling out what happened.
Did she use her shadow cloak? That’s advanced fae magic. I’ve only heard or masters doing that. Perhaps she’s been training. But for what? To come here and destroy the peace we’ve strived for?
She continued down the street then bumped into a woman. No, not just a woman. A vampire. I can spot them a mile away. Literally. I sniffed the air to confirm.
They smell like blood and look like a million bucks. The vamp was stunning—so beautiful as to be mesmerizing, which is the intent with their particular kind of magic.
Then the air filled with the musky scent of wolf. It’s like rain and earth and something unique that elevated my pulse further.
Standing on the other side of the cobblestone lane, I surveyed my surroundings, but I was the only of my kind here. Unless it was Kenna.
She must’ve been starting to shift. Wolves with any training know not to do that in public. Likewise, vampires know not to use their mesmer powers or strength when around non-magicals. Under the Accords, we do everything possible to shield humans from our existence. If the vampire dares to make a move against her, I’ll report her as a member of the Klave.
To my surprise, the vamp backed off. They never do.
Kenna brushed past her on the sidewalk.
I wasn’t sure what to make of her other than the fact that she’s demonstrated equal parts fae and wolf. If the vampire biology was strong within her, I imagine she would’ve squared off with the vamp as one of their kind.
She paused in front of Kientz’s Clock Tower, gazing at the intricate metal clock that tourists flock to see. In the glass's reflection window at the base, she smiled.
Her expression was so joyous, if it were cloudy, the sun wo
uld come out by virtue of her expression.
A stirring in my chest distracts me.
Still wearing a smile, she crosses the street.
My wolf pushes against my bones, my skin, and begs for release. Did she find what she was looking for? Someone to eat, drink, or destroy?
But she’s gone. A yelp echoes in the early morning air.
Thinking about the last few minutes following Kenna and how her smile distracted me—something I can’t afford right now.
I dash across the street as someone dressed entirely in an outfit of the darkest purple it’s almost black, drags Kenna into an alleyway. Possible Klave colors? I can’t see their face as they hover over Kenna who’s lying on the ground with her eyes closed. They must be with the enemy.
Protect my wolf demands.
I don’t shift, but if the attacker is one of our kind, they’ll sense the warning in the air. It’s the power of the Alpha and all magicals respond to it whether they’re fae, vamp, wolf, or something else.
The figure in purple freezes. They continue to hover over Kenna as though trying to break through the confines caused by my power.
Kenna remains motionless.
I’m hunting her. I’ve claimed her.
Kenna is mine.
I send the message into the energy of the surrounding area because above all, the Klave cannot have her. They’ll use her as a weapon against the Accord-abiding magicals and humans alike.
The figure presumed to be from the Klave retreats. As they do, I catch the unmistakable scent of wolf under a fig—a kind of guise that’s a lot like fae glamour but intended to mask the identity of a magical from the senses.
I jog across the street and crouch down. Kenna is unconscious. I imagine she fell and hit her head hard. My throat pinches. Or she’s faking. Given her identity as an enemy, that’s more likely the case.
The thought comes a moment too late. She bounds to her feet, meeting my eyes.
I blink as though waking up. I’m off my game. I should’ve brought reinforcements. My heart lurches.
“Get back,” she says with an American accent. I have to collect these details because I will hold whoever raised and trained her accountable.
Hulking in the alleyway, I step closer. “You evaded the fae, the vamp, and the wolf from the Klave, but you will not get past me.”
Her lips dip toward a frown, and her brow wrinkles, but her eyes harden. “There are three things you should know about me, buddy. I’m just a girl who loves her Cherry Chapstick and that idiot back there sent it into the gutter. Considering it’s my birthday, I could go for some of that chocolate cake this place is famous for, but more importantly, I’ve had a tough couple of days and you are not going to mess with me.”
I do my best to conceal my own frown and the expression of puzzlement that flits across my brow. “That’s four things.”
She charges in my direction. I brace for her attack. Instead, she ducks under my arm. It takes me by surprise. But this time, I’m fast and grab her by the scruff of her denim jacket. I subdue her with my dominant gaze. Her eyes are the color of smoke and laced with amber.
My heart rate increases again, and I tell it to back down. Focus. I must remain in control at all times.
“Let me down.” Her feet kick out once, twice.
She’s feisty. My power strains against her, which for me, as an Alpha, is rare. I appreciate her spunk. It’s no surprise considering her lineage. But it stops here. Well, back at Headquarters.
Protect my wolf warns. I’d like to tell him to shut up, but there’s no arguing with my inner nature, my wolf.
Nonetheless, I force my gaze to penetrate Kenna’s awareness. She slips into twilight slumber—she’s alive but no longer aware of what’s going on. I could use a day under its spell as well—if only to shake this weird feeling in her presence.
We’ll have to be careful when she wakes. I’ll end her, but first, she’ll answer some questions.
Slinging the MMW over my shoulder, I keep to the backstreets as I return to the Jeep. She remains asleep while I head north for a couple of hours, over the mountains, and into the remotest parts of Concordia where I dominate the wolf pack.
Baker, Claude, Trigg, Avril, Camilla, and Inga wait for me in the spare bedroom where I bring Kenna, placing her on the bed.
Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. I reinforce my Alpha hold on her so she doesn’t fake me out again. After giving everyone a recap of her encounter with the fae, vamp, and wolf I’m guessing is from the Klave, I add what she said about the Cherry Chapstick and her birthday.
“She wants cake?” Trigg laughs.
“She looks harmless,” Camilla says.
I grunt. “She doesn’t look like she could harm a hair on a wolf’s head, but she’s Magical’s Most Wanted. Too bad she’s deadly. Likely, the most dangerous magical we’ve ever encountered.”
But Camilla is right. With Kenna’s eyes closed and her expression serene, my pulse doubles again, and my heart thunders.
Inga casts me an almost-amused look of curiosity.
“I’m going to lift the twilight slumber. We have to question her and eliminate her.”
“Sometimes you scare me,” Inga says with a chuckle.
Sometimes I scare myself, but it’s not for the reason she thinks.
Chapter 7
Kenna
I had the dream I always do on the full moon about walking with a wolf in a meadow filled with wildflowers. He has copper eyes and dark gray fur streaked with silver and black. Deep gold tips the fur of his muzzle. How do I know the wolf is a male? By the way he nuzzles me in the dream because this time, I’m also a wolf.
I wake with a start and rub my eyes, fuzzy from sleep. My entire body aches as the last couple of days come back to me. The air smells fresh, but I sense others in the room. The last thing I remember was being attacked. Am I in the hospital? There’s no beeping or hum of machines.
Blinking my eyes open, they land on a copper gaze, but they don’t belong to a wolf. No, they belong to the guy who attacked me in the alley after someone knocked me out on the street.
I explode from the bed as energy surges inside. “You!” I launch myself at him as several others close in around me.
Like trying to come up from underwater, the electricity or whatever it is in me tries to rise to the surface so I can defend myself but fails. The group of six people who look to be around my age, or a little older, restrain me with what feels like static in my mind. I can’t fight against it even though I try. By try, I mean that it’s instinctual. I’m not doing anything other than pressing against it like a magnet pushing against the same polarity.
“She’s strong,” says a guy with a short brown mohawk.
“Not strong enough,” a female with blue hair and a nose ring says.
The static increases.
The guy who brought me here stands at the foot of the bed. His features knot. “Who sent you here?” he asks. That last word catches on his Scottish accent.
“I don’t even know where I am,” I grind out. “But my best guess is you brought me here.”
His expression curdles like everything about me disgusts him. My sassy reply doesn’t seem to do me any favors.
“I mean, who sent you to Concordia,” he clarifies in a sharp tone.
“My mother.”
“The vampire?” asks a girl with caramel-colored hair and kind eyes. I’d swear she shivered.
“No. Jackie Slade. She’s a nurse. I graduated high school the other day. Today is my birthday. This trip was a hybrid gift from my mom. I wish she were here,” I say in one desperate outpouring.
It’s easier to talk to the girl with the caramel-colored hair. I clutch the pillow to my chest when I remember how my mother disappeared so suddenly in our apartment and the email she sent.
The guy who attacked me, and who has the most commanding presence in the room, grunts. I’m guessing he’s a year or two older than me and somehow has all the au
thority in the room. He has several tattoo-like markings on his arms, but they somehow look more permanent if that’s possible. He’s gorgeously buff. Every time I speak his muscles flex.
“I have questions of my own. Who are you? Why am I here?”
As if on cue, the tight cords of the muscles in his neck that lace toward his jaw tighten. “I’m Corbin Stone. Warrior and Guardian Council representative and leader of Pack Hjalmor. We’re warrior wolf shifters, and you are at our Headquarters in Polaris, north Concordia. You are our captive.” He has a slight Scottish accent that on anyone else would be dreamy.
I practically bark a laugh. “What now? Your captive? Is that why you’re lording over me like I’m dangerous.”
Tension flares in the room.
“You are dangerous,” Corbin says. He’s obviously the head-guy who also stands a head taller than the others.
“I think you have the wrong gal. Listen, I’m trying to get to Cardington, Concordia. My father left me a house there. Have you ever heard of it?” I press to sitting.
All seven of these weirdos stiffen like they’re preparing to fight.
I hold my hands up in surrender. I’m going to try the path of least resistance and get these people to see reason. Maybe they mistook me for someone else. I’m also an American citizen and know my rights. I will report them to the authorities as soon as I get free.
“I think this is a big misunderstanding. I’m not interested in your cult, er pack, or whatever you called it. I was under the impression the Concordian people were friendly and welcoming.” I shake my head sharply. “It’s no wonder no one has ever heard of this place. It’s loony.”
Corbin wears a hint of a lopsided smile.
“You have no idea,” a woman with pale blond hair says. “I’m Inga. This is Claude.” Her lips quirk when she says his name. “Also, Trigg, Avril, Baker, and Camilla.”
