by E Hall
No, wait. This is the real world.
My mind and my inner voice, or wolf, argue back and forth. I’m hungry and exhausted. But no longer restless. Where there should’ve been sore muscles and aching bones, I feel strong. I’m not sure why or truly what I am, but the pain I now feel is over not knowing what I am and over my mother’s disappearance.
However, after shifting and connecting with Corbin, I feel settled, rooted in a way. That is also strange, but now is not the time to think about it. I am a woman on a mission and that is to satisfy my sweet tooth.
I park opposite the bakery. An older woman with a shock of white hair works behind the counter with Pepper.
They look up at the same time when the bell on the door jingles.
“Hey, Kenna. I was hoping you were all right. I mean, that you came back.” She glances at her grandmother who discretely gives her the go-ahead gesture. Maybe it’s her break time. “What can I get for you today?”
“It all smells and looks so good. I’ll take one of everything.” My eyes are wide as I browse the cookies, muffins, and slices of cake.
Pepper giggles.
I smile. “I’m not kidding. I’m not used to living so far away from everything. I’ll take whatever I don’t tackle right now back with me.”
Pepper gets out a few plates and selects one of each of the freshly baked items.
“Oh, and I’ll take an extra doughnut please.” I point to the old-fashioned style, which is my favorite.
“Is this for someone special?” She puts it in a bag and brings the plates over to a bistro table by the window.
“How’d you know?” I ask before thinking about what that implies.
“You have that look—like a girl who gets dragonflies in her belly whenever she’s around a certain someone. Oh, I mean, butterflies. That’s what you say in the US, right? We say dragonflies. It’s a shifter thing.”
I’d already taken a giant bite of the cinnamon bun and cough. I tell myself it’s the spice.
Pepper leans in. “The wolf pack is common knowledge around here. The saying about dragonflies is a reference to the dragon shifters that used to live in the Montmartres Mountains.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “They’re gone. Some people think they’re currently dormant. If so, no one knows when they’ll wake up.”
I must turn pale.
“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.” She makes a buttoning motion in front of her mouth. “Although I wouldn’t mind sampling some of that banana bread. I got to make it this time and want to be sure it turned out good.” She points to a slice on the plate.
“Help yourself,” I say, still not sure to trust her with acknowledging the magical world.
“Delicious,” she says, around a mouthful. “Welcome to Concordia, where vampires, shifters, and fae are among us...and the baked goods are the best.”
“Are you, um...?”
She shakes her head. “Not that I know of, but there’s still hope. I’m not eighteen yet. Next month.”
“My birthday was last month,” I say, eyeing the chocolate cake in the display case.
“Let me guess, you’re fae. They are notorious for loving sweets.” She scratches her chin. “Then again, you’re with the wolf pack so...” She shakes her head. “No, I get definite vampire vibes from you.”
If only she knew the truth.
“How do you live with keeping this knowledge secret? Isn’t it dangerous? Why doesn’t the world know?” I ask.
“My dad knew a mermaid in college, and he almost blabbed. Almost drowned in his sleep—he was in his bed upstairs.”
My eyes widen.
“We coexist but didn’t always. Then there were the Accords. Would anyone believe you if you went back to the US and blabbed? That’s what my dad says anyway.” She shakes her head. “In fact, people did do that, and they were written off as hysterical or dramatic or fantastical...or fiction writers.”
“I’ve heard of the Accords. What was it like before that?” I ask while digging into a shortbread cookie.
Pepper leans in. “Oh, this is a good story. The fae king, Melchior, chooses a consort every hundred years. Hundreds of years ago, a fae named Lila was to be crowned queen. However, she was abducted by a human man and forced into service. Ever after, on the full moon, the fae maidens would lure a huntsman into their midst and take his life for her own. Years later, one fae maiden, named Isa, felt like that was wrong and betrayed her people, running away with a man. Only, shortly after their love was known, a werewolf attacked him.”
“A werewolf?” I recall bits of the story that Corbin told me, but some of this is new information.
“The curse of the night howl before the Accords. Don’t worry. You’re not going to go seeking human flesh on the full moon. Anyway, Isa saved her true love’s life but gained the wrath of the king. He vowed to stop at nothing to get her back. There was a big battle. The couple escaped, married—or rather, bonded, in magical terms. But then...”
“Then?” I ask, hanging on her every word.
“They had a child.” She speaks slowly. “Because different kinds of magicals weren’t meant to come together in that way, he was part fae and part shifter, making him troubled.”
“What was his name?” I ask, afraid I know the answer.
The bell to the bakery jingles.
A guy with smooth skin and mid-length blond hair enters and smiles at Pepper. He’s around our age but has on a tweed jacket like he forgot he could stop wearing his boarding school uniform for the summer.
“Hi, Clove. How’s it going?” Pepper asks.
His pale blue eyes land on me and hold. A jolt gives way to a warning. My wolf doesn’t like him. But he and Pepper chat, and he seems nice enough.
After he goes to the counter to order a brownie, she whispers, “He moved here from Cardington last year. Everyone had a crush on him. We went to prom together.” She practically squeals then leans in. “I made up a kiss spectrum. Kind of a play on words for the name of the bakery and my name. So there are bell peppers to chili peppers. Mild to spicy. His was up there on the heat scale.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I giggle. “So are you together?”
She slouches. “No. He’s more of a loner type. Fae are that way.”
“He’s fae?”
She nods.
“And they’re the dreamiest. So hot.” She mock-sprawls in her chair like she’s been slain.
“Are you sure you’re not magical?”
“No.” She winks.
Clove starts over to our table. I bag up all of my goodies and leave, knowing she probably would like time alone with him. “See you soon.” I wave, being sure to leave her a big tip in the jar on the counter to pay her back as promised.
On the drive back to Headquarters, I think about the conversation with Pepper. If only my feelings were like one of those coded puzzles to solve that she mentioned when we first met. And if only my life were as simple as it once was, because I can’t help but feel that I’m tied to Isa and her wolf shifter.
I try to find Corbin to give him the doughnut, but don’t see him in the lodge. I retreat to my room and pull out my diary and the one from Lonsdale, running my fingers over the worn leather. I flip the blank pages, noticing several in the middle are torn out. The jagged, yellow edges are brittle.
I should’ve asked Clove if he knew anything about the house I inherited since Pepper mentioned he was from Cardington. I want to talk to my mother. I have a million questions for her.
Instead, I open a page of my diary and write about my confusing feelings for a certain wolf shifter. At first, it was like he hated me, but after I shifted, I’m not so sure. It’s mixed messages all around, including between my heart and mind.
I’ve criticized girls on shows or in books who were conflicted like this. I’d tell her to tell him to get lost. But it’s different being caught up in it. Feelings that come from this deep unknown place inside are confusing.
I chew on my pen cap, t
hinking a moment. I think of Pepper’s kiss spectrum and wonder what it would be like to kiss Corbin.
Chapter 18
Corbin
Baker asked me to call a meeting with the betas.
I stand by the door in the den. “News?”
“Old Richard Dubois over the hill died.” Baker’s eyes are downcast.
“He probably wasn’t going to make it another winter,” Trigg says.
Camilla shoots him a chiding look for being insensitive.
“What? It was him or that ramshackle house. It was hard to say which would go first.”
Her face hardens. “We brought him meals from time to time,” she says, glancing at me.
I nod. “We checked in on him. He was kind. Grateful.”
“That’s too bad,” Inga says. “He’ll be missed for sure.”
Everyone but Trigg and by default, Avril, agree.
“Is there something we ought to know? A funeral service or—?” I ask, wondering why this required a meeting.
“Or,” Baker says gravely.
My hackles lift. Something is wrong.
Baker lets out a long breath, holding us in suspense. “He was attacked.”
Camilla covers her mouth with her hand.
“By a werewolf,” Baker adds.
My fists drop onto the table. “What are you talking about?”
“I got these from my contacts at the police station.” He flips around his laptop. Grisly photographs of a mangled man display on the screen. The bites and torn flesh are unmistakably by a wolf.
A shudder slides under my skin, but my Alpha wolf bolsters me. I push back. How did we miss the encroachment on our territory?
“First attack since the Accords. A neighbor found him dragged from his house. The investigator said he’d been out there since the night before.” Baker opens another tab on his computer with the time and date. “The night of the last full moon.”
“How is this possible?” Claude asks.
Inga gazes up at the ceiling and then at me. “I told you the spell was lifting.”
“How do you know?” Claude asks, almost like an echo.
“I sense things,” she says vaguely.
“She senses my fated mate and I drawing together.”
Six pairs of eyes dart to me and then Inga.
I make eye contact and step closer. “If you’re wondering who, it’s not like I get to choose.”
“You should’ve eliminated her while you had the chance,” Avril says.
I narrow my eyes and snarl.
Trigg whispers, “Watch it, babe.”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect Pack Hjalmor. I am not sealed with my fated mate so you all are my priority as well as figuring out who did that.” I point to the computer.
“Was it her?” Avril asks.
“Her as in Kenna? No, I’d know if she’d killed. That kind of appetite leaves traces.”
“Oh, right. As Alpha, you have special powers, and yet somehow you didn’t notice a werewolf cross onto our land.”
“Avril, do you have a problem with Kenna?” I ask, diverting attention from the actual issue that she cited.
She gets to her feet. “Yes, I do. You said she’s a monster. Why is she still here? You said she’s dangerous. Why is she still alive? Are you just waiting for her to unleash her power on us, destroying the pack and breaking the Accords?”
“I’ve gotten to know her and don’t believe she’s the danger we previously believed. She doesn’t understand her power. It’s my duty to help her, meaning it’s your duty to help too.”
“Amanda saw you two together after she shifted.” Avril’s arms cross in front of her chest. “She said you’re possessed by her charms.”
I bark a laugh as the recent memory of the two of us wolves play-fighting warms me like a thick pelt of fur. Yes, I’m possessed, but by fate and not Kenna’s so-called charms.
“Should we call off the summer solstice barn dance?” Camilla asks, interrupting.
I shake my head. “No, business as usual. We won’t raise any alarms yet. Let whoever this is think that we’re in the dark.”
“We are,” Avril huffs. “Unless you’re not telling us something.”
“I tell you what you need to know, beta.” My voice is commanding. “The idea is to let the spy think they’re safe. They’ll get sloppy, careless, confident.”
The betas are quiet.
“Have I ever failed you?” I ask.
“You’ve never been in love before,” Avril says, her voice small.
I scoff. “That changes nothing.” I turn to Baker. “Keep me appraised. If anyone else learns anything, let me know.”
I dismiss everyone and then skip dinner, heading back to my house next to the lodge.
When we originally built this place, I lived in the main house with everyone else but found all the wolf-energy drew on my Alpha to become involved or intervene instead of letting the subordinates sort out issues among themselves—that teaches them cooperation and solution-oriented behavior rather than relying on me for everything.
I click on the low light and drop into the chair at the wide table by the window. A yellowed map given to me by none other than Richard Dubois, the last time Camilla and I visited his cottage, lays unfurled on the table. Polaris has been here for ages, but this depiction of the area designates the old names for the forest, rivers, and other aspects of topography. Richard knew we’re guardians of this land and thought it might be helpful for me to have.
My gaze drifts to the northeast edge where the fae dwell in the forest, drawing my mind to the fragment of history that brought Kenna into our lives.
Someone pads up the path, and I listen, inhaling cherries, wolf, and something sweet.
A light rap sounds on the door. “Come in,” I call to Kenna.
The door creaks open.
“How did you know it was me?” she asks.
I smirk and my wolf all but drools and trips over his tail at the sight of her looking cute in denim cutoffs and a T-shirt. Down boy. I tell my wolf.
“Is this your place? I’ve never been up here. I figured you lived in the lodge with everyone.” She glances around at the modest space. It’s just three rooms—a kitchen with a gigantic table, a living area, and a bedroom with the bathroom en suite.
“It’s simple. I prefer our resources to go to the pack. I just needed some quiet. Being Alpha means I have an internal communication connection with everyone in the pack. It can get noisy.” I point to my temple.
She closes the door. “The lodge sure can get loud, but I like it. It’s kind of like having a bunch of siblings or what college would’ve been like.”
“I was just thinking of you,” I say before I can stop myself.
“I was just looking for you. I brought you a doughnut from the bakery in town.” She passes me a paper bag.
“Thank you.” I take a massive bite of the doughnut, not having realized that I’m starved. “Did you have dinner?” I ask, around a mouthful.
“Do pastries count?” She hides a bashful grin.
“You have a sweet tooth.”
She bits her lip. “I know what you’re thinking.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“I met Pepper, the girl who works at Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice. She said fae have a sweet tooth. Teeth? Whatever.” Kenna blows a stray hair from her face. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s said that they appreciate gifts of sweets. Do you feel called to the fae?”
She steps closer to me. “I don’t know what I feel other than the excitement at HQ and a call to you. To your wolf.” Her cheeks flame in the low light.
My wolf hums with delight and desire. “The Summer Solstice Barn Dance is in a few days. Camilla and a few others put it together. It’s usually a lot of fun.”
“Do you dance?” she asks with an air of surprise.
I casually lift and lower a shoulder.
Her grin is irrepres
sible then her eyes catch on the map on the table. She leans over, studying it. Her hair cascades over her shoulder, brushing my arm. “That’s cool,” she whispers.
I tell her where I got it and what happened to its previous owner.
Her eyes glass over. “That’s awful. So tragic. But I didn’t think wolves—”
“A cursed wolf called a night howl, commonly known as a werewolf, attacked Richard.”
“Are you sure?” She’s almost trembling. “I don’t know my power yet. Could I have—?”
“Kenna, I am in your room every night when you sleep. I was with you on the full moon. I am certain it wasn’t you.”
She exhales with relief.
“But that doesn’t mean others aren’t wary.”
The light glows softly, and I watch her reaction as she swallows. I want to tell her what she’s up against. What we’re up against if our bond grows stronger. But speaking it makes it so, and I’m not ready for that.
“Come here. Sit. I’ll get us something to eat.” I pull a couple of steaks from the fridge and fire up the grill outside. Kenna stays inside, gazing at the map while I cook them just barely rare. I slide them onto two plates and then drop one in front of her.
“It’s practically still mooing,” she says, cutting into the bloody slab of meat.
I suppress a grin. “Don’t knock it before you try it.”
She takes a tentative bite then another. After the thing is half gone she says, “My wolf likes it. However, I stand by my doughnuts.”
I chuckle, and we fall into casual conversation about the boundaries of the Hjalmor territory, the streams, ponds, and areas we run.
“Doesn’t all that running exhaust you?”
I forgot she hasn’t experienced the freedom of the trails yet. “Wolves used to be predominantly nocturnal like fae and vampires. We’re able to go into a deep sleep almost immediately so we get the rest we need more readily, making it so we require less sleep overall. Especially around the full moon. It’s like a battery that recharges us.”
“I still have the wolf dreams, but come to think of it, I haven’t been sleeping as much as I used to,” she comments.
