A glistening sea stretched out before us. I drew in harrowing breaths, filling my lungs with the salty air, before managing, “We just need to keep moving.”
Victoria
After Grace and a few others decided to leave the island on their mission—including my parents—I bade them farewell with wishes of good luck. Then I was left to my own puzzled thoughts again.
The note from “Cecil” Brock had handed me was still in my pocket. I drew it out again and eyed it.
I ought to visit, I couldn’t help but feel. Just briefly to see what’s going on. There was no harm in that. I could ask one of the jinn to come with me—in fact, I was pretty sure that Aisha had stayed behind this time. She was a badass. I would be safe with her.
I took my bike and sped along the forest path toward the mountains. Leaving my bike outside, I passed through the entrance of the Black Heights that led to the jinn’s apartments. I hurried to Aisha’s door and knocked. The door opened after a minute. She emerged wearing a tank top rolled halfway up her torso to expose her belly. I took in her rather odd appearance before saying, “Aisha, I’m sorry to disturb you, but… I kind of need some help.”
“That’s okay,” she said, in a surprisingly light mood considering everything that was going on around us. “Come in and chat, Victoria.”
I stepped into her and Horatio’s ornate foyer, and she led me into their beautiful sitting room.
I was just about to begin when she exclaimed, “I’m pregnant.”
I forgot what I was about to say for a moment and stared at her. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” she said, “Horatio and I… Well, we’ve been trying for a while actually.”
“That’s… Congratulations!” I said, managing to bring a smile to my tight, worried lips.
“Thank you,” she replied. She remained beaming for several more moments before her face turned businesslike. “So, why have you come to visit me?”
I hesitated. Now that Aisha had told me she was pregnant, I didn’t feel like asking her to accompany me. I thought I should ask someone else.
“It’s, um… oh, never mind.”
“Huh? What do you mean? Come on.”
I heaved a sigh. “It’s just that I received a note.” I handed her the parchment, allowing her to read it for herself.
“Bastien,” she muttered. “Your wolf boy, right?”
I nodded weakly. “Yeah… I was going to ask you if you wouldn’t mind escorting me to The Woodlands, but—”
“I don’t mind,” she replied.
“Really? I mean, I would only plan a quick visit. It’s just to see what’s going on there, but—”
“I don’t mind,” she repeated. “I assume you want to leave as soon as possible, then?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I’ll get changed.”
She left the sitting room and headed toward her bedroom. She returned less than ten minutes later, wearing a blue blouse and with her hair wound up in a severe bun on top of her head. That was usually her preferred hairstyle when she went to battle. It was Aisha’s no-nonsense look.
“Thank you,” I said, relenting.
We traveled via the gate in the ogres’ realm to The Woodlands. On arriving outside the Blackhalls’ mountain, I was hardly breathing. I gazed around the glade leading up to the entrance, and then at the wooden entrance door itself, looking for signs of struggle.
Everything seemed perfectly normal.
Aisha kept the two of us invisible just for good measure. I suggested that she vanish us inside rather than knock on the door. She transported us to the entrance hall on the other side. We ventured deeper into the mountain along the archaic corridors, and, looking around, all we saw were werewolves going about their day. Again, there appeared to be nothing wrong whatsoever.
We moved a bit further, but I didn’t see a reason for us to continue remaining invisible. It also felt kind of rude and awkward to be trespassing in this manner. Aisha relinquished her magic and the two of us appeared before a group of werewolves who were heading toward us. They stopped abruptly, their faces lighting up in pleasant smiles as they recognized me.
“Victoria,” they said, bowing their heads a tad. “You’re back.”
“Yes,” I said uncertainly. “Is Bastien around?”
“Why, yes, he has returned from his trip. You will probably find him up in his quarters.”
I thanked them and headed upstairs with Aisha. Although I still felt confused, a tingle of excitement ran down my spine at the thought of seeing Bastien again. At the thought of surprising him. I was already picturing the boyish grin that would spread across his handsome face, his arms around me… I knocked.
Footsteps…
The door opened.
And there he was. My wolf man. He wore sloppy cotton pants and was bare-chested, since it was a warm day here in The Woodlands.
He immediately swooped down on me, gathering me to him and landing kisses on either side of my face and then my lips.
“Victoria.” He beamed. His eyes flickered momentarily to Aisha. “How come you’re back?”
“I’ll, uh, wait outside here in the hallway,” Aisha offered. “I trust you’ll be all right…”
I looked at her gratefully. It was a sensitive gesture to offer us some privacy.
Bastien drew me into his quarters and pulled me to his sitting room, whose vast windows afforded a magnificent view of the fields bordering the mountain and the pure blue sky above.
“Tell me everything,” he said, clutching my hands and gazing down into my eyes.
Relief billowed within me that he was all right, and apparently completely oblivious to any note. But this fact was at the same time very unsettling.
“Well, I received a note that was signed by Cecil. It said that you needed me and I should come back here as soon as possible.”
His forehead lined in confusion. “A note from Cecil?”
“Some woman with dark curly hair delivered it,” I added.
Bastien froze. Any relief I had felt instantly ebbed away.
“D-dark, curly hair? Did she have… gray eyes by any chance?” he inquired.
“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “I didn’t actually see her. A friend received the note on my behalf. Bastien, what is—?”
I didn’t even have a chance to finish my sentence before a giant crash sounded just beside us, followed by a sprinkling of glass. Bastien and I staggered back, and the next thing I knew, we were standing face to face with a giant black wolf. She was about twice the size of even Bastien, who was by no means an average-sized wolf. She only just managed to stand up beneath the ceiling, which was hardly low.
“Mother?” Bastien gasped.
Mother?
What the…
Before I could attempt to make even the slightest sense of the situation, Bastien’s body billowed and transformed into a wolf. He planted himself in front of me, blocking my view of the monster. “Call for your jinni,” he hissed to me.
My voice was frozen in my throat, but Aisha must have heard the glass smashing. She came zooming inside within a matter of seconds. Her stunned expression mirrored my own as she gaped in the monster wolf’s direction. Bastien’s “mother”?
With the back of his leg, Bastien nudged me toward Aisha, who grabbed hold of me immediately. She put up some kind of swirling shield around the two of us—a protective shield, I could only assume.
From this angle, I had a clear view of the wolf. Her eyes flitted to me. Gray eyes—almost the exact same shade as Bastien’s. She threw me a look of deep disdain before returning her focus to Bastien.
“Brucella has informed me that you have developed an unhealthy infatuation for this human.” She spoke in a loud, booming voice. “It will not do. You are a Mortclaw, Bastien.”
The hair lining Bastien’s back prickled. “And who are you, exactly, to give me commands? You who only surfaced in my life a matter of days ago?”
To my surprise, the wo
lf’s eyes softened as she gazed upon her son. Really?
“Please, do not fight me on this, child. I know that I am still a stranger to you. You may not understand now, but in time you will see that my actions are for the best…”
Her eyes returned to me and this time, to my shock, they were tinged red. Red that was growing more intense by the moment.
Either I or the world had gone mad when burning rays shot from her irises toward me. They sizzled up to three feet away from me, where Aisha’s shield halted them abruptly.
Alarm registered in the wolf’s eyes, and the rays instantly vanished. Then she leapt toward us. No, she flew.
Grabbing me by the waist, Aisha zoomed out of the window and positioned us in the sun-streaked sky. I hurriedly climbed onto the jinni’s back as the wolf came hurtling after us. Claws the length of daggers extended from her paws, and she gnashed razor-sharp teeth.
I felt like I was going to pass out. Not even from fear, but from pure and utter bewilderment.
Aisha must’ve cast some invisible curse at the wolf, for she staggered in the air and faltered. It took her a few seconds to recover before she zoomed toward us again, and then again. Aisha kept beating her back with her magic, until it seemed that the wolf had given up.
She turned around and went racing right back toward Bastien, who was perched by the window gazing worriedly toward us.
What is she going to do now? Will she hurt him?
Aisha seemed to be posing the same questions to herself. She made us drift and follow her down. By the time we landed at the edge of the now upturned living room, it was to witness Bastien growling and gnashing in a corner as the giant wolf closed in on him. Within a matter of seconds, her jaws closed around the fur at the back of his neck, the way a cat would hold a kitten, and then… they vanished. Just. Vanished.
“Bastien!” I half screamed, half choked.
I gazed around the room helplessly, as if they would manifest again in some other part of the room.
That wolf vanished with him. And she had powers like that of the jinni or a… witch.
“What. Just. Happened?” Aisha breathed.
“I have no clue!” I cried. “She said that she was Bastien’s mother. But Bastien’s mother died! The hunters killed her! And what is a Mortclaw? Bastien’s a Blackhall!” Oh, God. Where has she taken him?
Aisha remained speechless for several moments, simply eyeing the disheveled room. Then she wet her lower lip and turned to me. “I don’t know what has happened here. Though the name Mortclaw does ring a vague bell. I think I have some inkling as to the cause of that wolf’s powers, though it’s kind of confounding why she would still possess them… If you want answers rather than my ramblings, I believe you need to speak to a black witch.”
“A black witch?” I repeated, staring at her. “They were vanquished, like, ages ago. I don’t know any…”
My voice trailed off as I realized that I did. Of course I do, stupid.
Mona. She had once been a black witch. A close companion of arguably the most notorious black warlock of all time, no less—Rhys Volkin.
Mona. We need to talk to Mona.
Victoria
We returned to The Shade and, after gaining entrance to the island, Aisha took me directly to Mona and Kiev’s treehouse. Mona came to the front door, looking surprised to see the two of us. I didn’t think I had ever paid a visit to Mona specifically. In the past when I’d stopped by here, it was usually to see Brock about something.
“Victoria?” she said, her brows rising to her blonde bangs.
I was in too much of a rush to give her an introduction. “Do you know anything about the Mortclaws?” I asked.
“Mortclaws,” Mona repeated, mouthing the name with a look of wonder. She drew open the door wider and invited us inside. We took a seat with her around a cherrywood dining table. “Yes,” she replied, to my relief. “Yes—they were the most virile tribe of werewolves in all of The Woodlands.”
“And are you aware of any black witches meddling with them?” Aisha asked.
Mona nodded again. “I was never directly involved, but I heard of plans to experiment with them while I was part of Rhys’ group. Morph the wolves into something nightmarish. Give them extraordinary powers that could match even a witch’s…” Her forehead creased as she frowned. “What’s this all about anyway?”
I hurriedly explained to her everything that Aisha and I had just witnessed.
It left Mona taken aback. “My, my… They still have their powers, all these years after the black witches’ defeat,” she mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else.
“The she-wolf told Bastien that he was her son—that he is a Mortclaw, not a Blackhall,” I said. “But how could it be? He doesn’t possess the same powers as them… Well, he can shift at will from wolf to man. But he can’t fly or vanish.” Or shoot freaking lasers from his eyes. “And how is it that they still have their powers in the first place? And where do they live?” I need to find Bastien! It was bitterly ironic. Before Aisha and I had arrived in The Woodlands to check on him, Bastien had been fine. It was only after I’d acted on that note from “Cecil” claiming Bastien needed help that he really did need it.
I was throwing far too many questions at Mona at once, but I couldn’t help myself. Every second that I sat here in this chair was torture as I imagined what was happening to Bastien. The she-wolf had mentioned Brucella. She was clearly behind all this. Knowing how crazy she was, and all that Bastien had told me about slighted werewolf mother-in-laws, I feared for his very life.
“Let’s try to take this one step at a time,” Mona said, rubbing her temples and focusing on the surface of the table in front of her. “Bastien. He might not possess the Mortclaws’ powers because, well… I really don’t know exactly. I can only speculate that maybe the witches didn’t experiment on him in the same way they did with his family. And, as for the Mortclaws still possessing their powers: Yes, it is odd, but… Not impossible. It depends a lot on the exact method the black witches used to carry out their ritual… As for where the Mortclaws live—I have no idea. Absolutely no idea.”
But Brucella must know. She found them in the first place!
Oh, how I hated that woman’s guts.
“So what do you mean by it not being impossible for the Mortclaws to have retained their powers?” Aisha queried. “How exactly would that be possible?”
Mona glanced at the jinni. “I have an idea… but I would need to go on a journey to verify it.”
“A journey to where?” I asked.
Mona hesitated. She bit down her on her lower lip, as if she was having second thoughts. Then she replied in a far lower tone than usual:
“To a place I have fought for decades to forget.”
Bastien
As the giant wolf who called herself my mother shot with me over the waves, away from The Woodlands, away from Victoria, I shifted back into a man, hoping that it would help me break free from her grip. I transformed suddenly, and the idea worked. No longer covered in thick fur for her jaws to grip, I slipped through her wide jaws and went hurtling into a freefall down toward the ocean.
Colliding with the waves knocked all the breath out of me, but I did not have time to recover. I forced myself to swim deeper and deeper.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. What is this woman thinking?
Ripples surrounded me, a disturbance in the water above me. I twisted my head upward for just a second and forced my eyes open to glimpse Sendira in the ocean. Still in her wolf form, it took her a matter of seconds to catch up with me, and then her body shrank and she resumed her humanoid form. I kicked hard to distance myself from her, but she grabbed my ankle, and the next thing I knew, the water around me disappeared and I was whizzing through the air again.
Oh, gods!
“Sendira!” I roared against the wind. I refused to call her Mother. She was no mother to me, no matter how much her scent drew me in. And she had lost all rig
ht to call me her son. She was no different than Brucella—cold, heartless, and merely out to put chains on me.
But Victoria had already freed me. She had freed my spirit and freed my heart. Nobody could put chains on me again, no matter how hard they tried. I will not stand for it!
“I promise that we will talk, Bastien,” Sendira replied, a hint of apology in her tone. “I promise. I just need to take you somewhere first.”
“Tell me what is going on, now!” I bellowed so hard it felt I might have damaged my vocal cords. I expected her to just ignore me again, but to my relief, my sheer volume—and likely also the desperation rocking my voice—seemed to get through to her. She stopped zooming so fast and gradually slowed, until we caught sight of another random pile of rocks pushing up from the swelling ocean. Here she touched down with me.
My hands were shaking with anger as my feet hit solid ground. I backed away from her and glared at her.
In spite of my rage, I could not help but feel a bit taken aback on noticing how guilty she looked. This woman was a paradox to me. How could she be so vicious and hardened one moment as to attack the very woman her son had professed to love, and the next be gazing down at me with affection, the way only a mother could? It was unnerving. Endlessly unnerving.
“All right,” she said, “I will tell you before we meet Brucella.”
“Brucella!” I growled. “So you admit that she sent you!”
She released a sigh and nodded. “Bastien, hear me out. Please, hear your mother out.”
It grated at me to hear her call herself my mother. I wanted to correct her, spit out that she was no such thing, but her softened demeanor made me hold back.
She took my hand and held it in hers. “I was forced to make a deal with that wolf,” she explained. “That deal is the only reason that I am free. She never would have released me from our prison if I had not agreed to her demands.”
My head spun. “Wait. Release you from your prison? What? That’s not the story you told me.”
An Hour of Need Page 3