by E Hall
Kenna staggers backward. “What are you doing?”
“The old butler is a ghost, haunting this house. Don’t worry. He’s friendly. Most of the time.” Clove smirks.
A cool gust of air fills the room. Then a fine mist in the outline of a human passes through Kenna. She gasps as though the air whisked from her lungs. Pressing her hand to her chest, she says, “What was that?”
“He’s just identifying you,” Clove says as though having a ghost walk through you is commonplace.
I erect my Alpha shield, which is enough for the ghost to know to stay back. “I should’ve warned you. But I wasn’t sure if Clove was fooling around.”
Kenna grimaces.
“Alister was loyal to your parents and will, therefore, be indebted to you. He couldn’t bear the idea of leaving them and looks forward to their return,” Clove explains.
“Did he, I mean, um, hi. Nice to meet you. Did you see my mom a few months ago?” Kenna asks the spectral figure.
A low moaning voice fills the room like the volume being turned up on an old radio. “I was most pleased to see Miss Jacqueline again. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kenna.”
Kenna’s shoulders lower slightly. “Why didn’t my mom introduce us?”
“Perhaps she knew you’d be alarmed and understandably so,” Alister replies.
She nods as though that makes a certain kind of sense.
“I wish you’d gotten to know them back then.” Alister exhales a mournful sigh.
“I can only imagine how grand this house was.”
In a doleful tone, Alister goes on to describe, in great detail, the liveness of the household.
After a few minutes, Clove cuts in. “As I was saying, there are three kinds of ghosts. The second one is liminal, meaning in between, where they’re half ghost and half physical being. They can walk among us but are prone to fading. And then there are hollow ghosts. They’re separated from their spectral entity and often cast into nothingness.”
“I take it my father is a hollow ghost,” Kenna says.
Clove nods noncommittally.
“How did that happen? How can we find him?” Her shoulders lift and lower as though speaking the words take a significant effort.
“A hollow ghost makes a forbidden trade. Often their life for something else,” Alister says, shaking his misty head. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“And you can only find him if he wants you to,” Clove says.
Her posture relaxes, and she smiles. “He’s my dad. Of course he’d want me to.”
Clove frowns, but he quickly flips his expression. “Of course.”
“We’ll start with my mother. See what she can tell us.”
“I was thinking you ought to start with the diary,” Clove says.
She shakes her head. “It’s blank.”
I can’t read Clove’s angle or figure out what he’s after, but I definitely don’t trust him.
Chapter 11
Kenna
“Why are you interested in locating Greyson Slade?” Corbin asks Clove in a harsh and accusatory tone.
The words and their implication come to me slowly as the last hour of discovery and conversation catch up with me. Of course, there are ghosts. Why wouldn’t there be? A voice in my mind says. The other one is screaming and repeatedly tells me to run out of this house immediately.
I turn my attention to Clove, waiting for his answer. His crystalline eyes land on me and hold. “Because I’m your brother, Kenna.”
It’s like the electrons inside of me magnetize to the lightning flashing in the distance, pulling me toward it with a live current under my skin and in my bones. It’s a physical pull and struggling against it, to remain rooted and in possession of my power, is like pushing against a mountain-sized clap of thunder.
I clear my throat. “Please repeat that.”
“I am your brother. Half-brother, actually. My mother was unseelie fae. Not the most maternal. Left me under a lily pad before I was old enough to walk.” Clove slouches back in the chair with a whimper of defeat.
“I didn’t see that coming,” Corbin says in his Scottish accent. I want to burrow into it, hide there in a den of his wolfiness to protect myself from all this new information. Yet, he remains across the room, leaning against a table with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
The image of baby Clove being abandoned drops into my mind with a thud. “Oh.” I release the tenacity of the pull on my exhale as I realize if he hasn’t been able to find Greyson, that must mean our father, as a hollow ghost, doesn’t want him to.
“You know, getting out of the house isn’t a bad idea. We should see if my mom can help.” I run my finger along the spines of leather-bound books on a shelf. “It’ll be like a quest. Find Greyson Slade. Rescue him from being a hollow ghost. Get some answers. Yeah, I like the sound of that,” I say, giving Clove and myself a pep talk.
“It’s a place to start.”
“Or your mother. Have you asked her?” I say to Clove.
His face crumbles. “No. She belongs to Melchior’s Court of Ken and Clover. I’m forbidden to have contact with her. If you haven’t noticed there aren’t many male fae. Melchior, Greyson, and me are it as far as I know.”
“You must be part wolf too then,” I say.
Clove shakes his head. “If I am, it’s buried so deep, I hardly feel a growl.”
“Interesting,” I say. “My wolf is dominant, but I do feel the other forms of magic just not as strong.”
I consider this additional information, and my wolf heart surges with warmth. I want to reach out and hug Clove, but he’s so closed off, I’m afraid if I touch him, he’ll spook like a frightened horse.
For the last weeks, I’ve felt alone, lost in what it means to be different. When my mother asked if he was different, when we were here last, she wasn’t far off the mark. My heart lends me understanding and kindness toward Clove. I settle into the chair beside him. It’s the closest I dare get.
Corbin takes up my position pacing. “Listen, I’m happy for you and this little family reunion, but there is something out there killing humans and now a magical. It’s up to me and my pack to find it. End it.”
“Do you think my father, our father, has something to do with it?” I ask.
He harrumphs. “There’s no way to know until we find him. It seems that the Accords are loosening. We can’t afford another rift between magicals or humans. I don’t know any better than either of you how to find Greyson, but I suggest we take action sooner rather than later.” As if there’s a deadline, he glances at a large clock that reminds me of the one I saw in a tower when I first arrived in Concordia.
“Have somewhere to be?” Clove asks.
“New Hampshire,” Corbin says, recalling where my mother lives.
We go on to discuss possibilities, transportation, finances, and an itinerary until the light in the room fades with dusk.
“We’ll leave tomorrow,” Corbin says.
Alister brings us a meal, and then Corbin and I retire to a room on the second floor. I’m so tired, I hardly have the energy to ask him what he knows about ghosts when I fall asleep in the crook of his arm.
When I dream my meadow dream, I try to shift, but cannot and am stuck. My copper-eyed wolf remains at a distance. I try to memorize the outline and details of his features, determined that whatever happens, I won’t lose him too.
The following morning, the weak sun peeks through the bedroom curtain. I consider rejoicing, dancing, or pumping my fist at going home to my mother, learning what I can, and finding my father. But a heavy feeling keeps me in place.
It can’t be that simple. If my father is a ghost, and lost in the ether, if he wanted her to find him, wouldn’t she have?
A soft hum comes from somewhere in the house and I quietly get up, following it downstairs and to the kitchen.
Alister, a dull outline of a man wearing formal attire, stands at the counter mixing something in a b
owl. “I begged Miss Cosworth to remain, but she was stubborn about death.”
“Miss Cosworth was stubborn about death?”
“She was the cook. She took ill and instead of remaining here, she wanted to die in the traditional sense. Go figure.”
I’m not sure whether to laugh or ask more questions. I settle on the latter. “What made you want to stay?”
“I loved your parents. They were a happy couple and treated us well. Your mother was like sunshine. Your father, like a full moon.” Alister sighs as though remembering better days. “I’ve always hoped they’d return. Instead, I’ve been in this lonely old house, well, until Clove came along.” Alister measures dry ingredients and dumps them in a bowl.
My wolf smells muffins in the making. I recall the loneliness I felt at the lodge. I gaze through the window at the dale and the rocks dotting the field.
“I’m here too now. You know, when I first came here, I thought this place was haunted.”
“Haunting has a bad rap, but I prefer to think of it as residing. I’m a permanent resident here. Forever.”
“If my father is a hollow ghost, does that mean he can never come back?”
“I should hope he can return otherwise my efforts are for naught. A hollow ghost makes a grim trade—their life, or soul if you prefer, for something else. A second trade can return their life to them then they can go on their merry way. However, they’ll never fully return to the land of the living. Rather, they become liminal or in some cases, stuck, like me.”
I brought the diary downstairs with me and open it, smoothing my hand over the blank page. The night when I thought I heard a voice coming from it returns to me as Alister hums to himself.
“Have you ever seen this diary? I found it here the first time I visited.”
He pauses and peers over my shoulder, bringing a gust of cold with him. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”
“Did you leave it for me?”
He doesn’t answer but tilts his head and flips the pages. His hand moves through mine, and I shiver. “The words that used to fill these pages are worth looking for.” He steps back as though afraid he offended me. “Miss, I’m sorry. I assure you, I never read it, but I cannot help noticing certain things.”
“Alister, it’s okay. I don’t blame you. I should check out the other books while I’m here.”
“The library is wonderful. I’ve read every book in it. Ten times at least.”
“I could bring you some new ones.”
He bobs his head. “That would be delightful.”
I scent wolf and in less than a minute, Corbin stumbles into the kitchen. He yawns and then smiles at me.
“Good morning,” I say.
He pecks me on the cheek. I want him to wrap me in his arms like he did last night, but once more, he maintains space between us. Maybe it’s a wolf thing? I’d like to think not. I don’t think I can get used to the hot and cold. On and off. Affectionate and distant.
I turn my attention back to Alister. “You knew Greyson well. If you were him and became a hollow ghost, why? What was he seeking? Where might he be?”
Alister goes over numerous options, including an encounter with an evil monkey named Dodge, a trip to Thailand that landed him in prison, and how much he loved my mother and wanted her back.
“In other words, my father was an adventurous romantic.”
Alister nods. “Oh, and he loved the ocean. I think he missed his calling as a pirate or a beach bum.” The ghost winks. I think. Can ghosts wink?
“And he’s not here?”
“Sadly, no. Master Clove has turned over every corner of this house.”
“Ironic, since it isn’t his,” I grumble. “Did Greyson have any other residences?”
“Not that I know of, however, he was fond of Mexico, if I recall. They went there on their honeymoon.”
It’s then I know the exact question to ask my mother, which might help me find my father...if he wants to be found.
Corbin and I spend the remainder of the morning formulating a plan.
Clove appears, looking dismal and exhausted.
Alister offers him a blueberry muffin. He takes a bite.
“I have to talk to my mom. Then we’re heading to Intherness. Want to come?” I ask my fae brother.
“I’d better not. If Greyson didn’t want me to find him, he might not reveal himself to you.” The words are clipped.
“Fair point. In that case, I’ll be in touch. Thanks for your help. Maybe when I get back, you can help me with my fae magic.”
“Sure thing. I hope you find him, Kenna.” His tone is low, grave, and not what I’d expect a son to sound like at the prospect of being reunited with his dad. Then again, if his mother’s treatment of him is any indication, fae are different.
“And if I find him—?” I ask, wondering if he has a message he’d like me to pass along.
“Let our father know that I’m going to finish what he started,” Clove says.
“And that is—?” Corbin asks.
Clove’s lips peel back in a leer. “I’d venture that would be dangerous information to tell a Council member.” He sweeps from the room without another word.
My wolf’s hackles lift.
Corbin’s expression sharpens.
Hurrying after Clove, I call, “Why did you show us the empty scepter box?” There are about ten other questions gridlocked on my tongue, but that was the one that slipped out.
But he’s gone. I turn back to Corbin with a plea in my expression.
“Because he wants the missing Vampire Jewel along with the others,” my Alpha says, answering the question my brother did not.
Chapter 12
Corbin
Kenna paces, once more clearing a path in the dust on the wooden floor in front of the window in the old Victorian manor in Cardington.
I want to invite her into my arms, to settle and comfort her after everything she learned, namely that her father is a ghost and her brother is Clove.
However, ghost or not, if we find her father, I can’t let him use our relationship as leverage. In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve had to remind myself repeatedly of that. Greyson has a reputation for being wicked, cruel, and relentless. I know he’d manipulate this situation to his advantage.
“I have a plan. I need to talk to my mother, which would be a cinch, but Amanda broke my phone. For all its advancements, mobile phone technology is sorely lacking in Concordia.”
“We’ll head back to HQ, make the call, and then go from there.”
Kenna bites the inside of her cheek and nods. “Alister?” she calls.
The gust of cool air enters the room ahead of the ghost butler. He appears in a wavy haze of light. I knew ghosts were real, but have only seen a couple. It’s rare for a magical to become one because the Sea of Dreams is preferable. It’s even less common for a magical to trade their life to become a hollow ghost. That makes me wonder about Greyson Slade’s diabolical intentions.
“I wish you could come with us, but we’re going to try to find Greyson,” Kenna tells the ghost.
Alister wears a sad smile. “He always wanted a large family. Too bad the Accords were created.”
I stiffen. “It keeps magicals from destroying the realm and humanity.”
Alister merely hums in reply, busily brushing a tabletop with a feather duster that’s the same immaterial ghost-glimmer as he is.
Kenna pauses at the front door. “Thanks for your help.”
But the ghost is gone.
During the drive back to Polaris, Kenna asks many questions—why did Clove share the empty scepter box? What does he want with the Vampire Jewel? What did he mean he would finish what Greyson started?
She grips my arm, practically shaking me as I shift gears. “How is it that I have a brother I didn’t know about?”
“Let’s hope your mom can help.”
When we return to Hjalmor Headquarters, I check in with the betas. Still no sign of the were
wolf which is concerning. “We have a warrior pack and we can’t find one werewolf?”
“She’s crafty.” Baker tells me he checked in with other packs and they’ve caught the cursed wolf’s scent, but there haven’t been deaths, yet.
While Kenna calls her mom, I give them a quick recap of what went on with Clove.
“So does that make him the second Magical Most Wanted?” Camilla asks.
“Interesting that the Council didn’t register his existence. The Accords were created when Kenna was born, right? So why weren’t they aware of Clove?”
I scratch the light layer of scruff growing along my jawline and think about that. “I’m not sure. First, Isa and Alden mated, creating Greyson. When he synthesized, they forbid he ever have children. Yet, he had two. The first went into hiding and the Accords came to be. But then, somehow Greyson slid under the radar and had a second offspring. Why didn’t we know?”
Baker flips on his laptop. No doubt, he’s going to do some research. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
Meanwhile, Kenna leaves her mother a voicemail message, filling her in on what’s transpired and alternately laughing about an inside joke they must have.
A twinge in my chest tells me I miss my father and wonder what it would have been like had I known my mother. The twinge lingers when I think about Clove’s fae mother, leaving her under a lily pad and his father’s rejection as well.
“I was just thinking,” I say to the betas, “Clove presents as fae. He’s part wolf, obviously, but there aren’t many traces of our kind in him. Perhaps he made the choice to lean into one or the other. Maybe he was born that way.” I shrug. “But it makes me wonder if Kenna will become more fully wolf and leave the other magic behind.”
“Did she have any power surges while you were gone?” Inga asks.
“Not really,” I say.
Kenna hangs up the phone, having heard our debate. “I felt the fae magic, especially around Clove. If I have to live with it, I’d like to learn how to control it. But don’t worry, the wolf in me is stronger.”