by Seana Kelly
“Getting married?”
I jumped out of my skin before a warm hand patted mine, keeping me from tipping backward. I shot up and pulled my hand away. The touch hadn’t frightened me, but I still didn’t like it.
“What?”
A woman, no more than a hair’s breadth taller than me, with brown skin, long, curly black hair, and bright hazel eyes watched me. A worn, red flannel shirt strained at her broad shoulders. She exuded a preternatural calm, and I would have bet every penny in my anemic bank account that she wasn’t human.
“Shopping for wedding rings?” Her expression remained neutral, but I could see her chest expand. She was breathing in my scent, no doubt trying to determine what I was.
“No. No. I’m just—no.”
“That was a lot of denial in a few short words.” A corner of her mouth kicked up. “I don’t blame you. Not for me either. So, if not rings, how can I help you?”
I reached in my pocket but paused. Should I give my necklace to an unknown supernatural to work on, even one recommended by Owen? Someone was trying to kill me, and this woman had an odd reptilian scent.
“Trust is an issue, huh?” Nodding, she pulled over a stool and sat. “I’m Coco, at your service. Now, as you’re a female wolf living in our fair city—if your scent is any indication—I’d guess you were Sam, owner and proprietor of The Slaughtered Lamb.” Winking, she asked, “How’d I do?”
“You’ve never been in The Slaughtered Lamb. I’d remember.” She had a calming presence that helped to quell my nerves.
“Thank you for the compliment, and no, I have not. I gave up drinking years ago, and I read on my tablet. My brother knows someone who works there, so I’ve heard all about it.” Leaning back, demonstrating excellent strength and balance, she picked up a coffee cup from the shadowy desk behind her.
“Can I touch your hand again?” Sometimes I got quick impressions of people when I touched them. Sometimes.
She held out her hand to shake mine. She had a strong, warm grip. The image of fire in a dark cave flitted in and out of my mind. Scales undulated on a massive body, wings stretching out and obliterating the light. It didn’t frighten me. On the contrary, it filled me with a sense of longing and comfort. Pulling the necklace out of my pocket, I decided that and the fact she was Owen’s beau’s sister were as good of an assurance as I was going to get.
I placed the pendant on the glass counter for her to see. Tilting her head, she stared at it for a moment before picking it up and placing it in the palm of her hand, closing her fingers over it.
“What have we here?” she mumbled to herself.
I watched, waiting. Her eyes took on a speculative light as she tilted her head further. It was as if she was listening to the necklace.
“Who made this for you?” She reached for one of my hands, and I let her take hold of it. I guessed she needed a connection to me in order to read the necklace properly. Or she just wanted to hold my hand. As it felt nice, I let it go.
“My mother. When I was a child.”
Nodding, her chest expanded again. “This is the first time you’ve taken it off?”
“Yes.”
Opening her hand, she studied the pendant. “She used protective stones. Each one of these—black tourmaline, labradorite, fluorite, black obsidian, blue kyanite—has been spelled separately and then again as a whole to cloak you and keep you safe.”
“Spelled?” I shook my head. “My mom wasn’t a wicche.”
Raising her eyebrows, her gaze traveled from the pendant back to me. “The necklace says different.
Even the chain has been spelled,” Coco’s expression softened. “What do you need me to do?”
“I fell in the ocean yesterday—”
“Fell?” The hand that held mine, gripped me harder.
“That’s the story I’m going with.” I pulled my hand out of hers and continued. “An e—something got caught around my neck in the water. When I tugged it off, I accidentally ripped the necklace off as well. I need the clasp fixed. Can you do that? Repair and clean it without stripping the spells.”
She nodded. “It’ll take some work. The clasp is easy enough, but I can’t do anything that works against the spells or the necklace might fight me. If it lets me, I’ll try to strengthen what I can.”
“Thank you.”
She studied the broken chain again. “She soldered it closed.” She studied me a moment. “What’s been happening since you took it off?”
Staring down at the wedding bands, I shrugged. “Nothing good.”
Making a sound of understanding in the back of her throat, she studied me. “I can fix it for you, but it will take time.”
I started to protest, but she stopped me by wrapping her hand around mine again.
“I’m feeling—” Shaking her head, she stared at our joined hands, dark and light. “I don’t know what this is I’m feeling, but I think…being without it is a danger to you. I can push back my other jobs and start on this now, but it will take a few hours.”
“Oh,” I sighed in relief. “Sure. I can handle a couple of hours.”
“I have a backroom.” She gestured over her shoulder. “You could wait there while I work.”
I thought about how often my fingers strayed to the lump in my pocket this morning. “Can I stay and watch? Will it bother you to have me in your workroom?” I didn’t want that necklace out of my sight.
“Sure. Drag my desk chair in. Can you flip the closed sign, turn the lock? This is going to take concentration. I can’t stop halfway through.” Coco went into a back room and wiped down her worktable, chanting something under her breath. Magic filled the air as she pulled my necklace from her pocket and placed it in the middle of her workspace.
Holding her hands over the necklace, eyes closed, she sang an atonal song in a language I didn’t recognize. It sounded ancient and called to mind bonfires and circle dances, long hair swinging in the moonlight while the fair folk presided.
I hadn’t realized that my eyes had drifted closed until her song changed, rousing me from a doze. I checked the wall clock. She’d been at it over an hour. Sweat clung to her forehead and neck. I needed caffeine if I was going to stay awake for the repair, and she needed some water. I didn’t want to interrupt her, so I quietly left the workroom, stepped out of the shop, and went in search of cold drinks.
Delicious smells wafted down the sidewalk from the open door of a coffee house. I followed the scent and found myself standing in front of a large green menu board advertising too many kinds of beverages, hot and cold alike. I got Coco a big bottle of water, myself a soda, and both of us a brownie. The woman had already earned an entire pan of brownies and she wasn’t even done yet.
A few minutes later, I was back in the brisk, morning air, walking across the street toward the water. I needed a minute before going back into that workroom or I’d nod off again. Taking a gulp of soda, I watched a boat motoring out of its slip and into the bay. The morning was glorious, with clear blue skies and steel green water. Boats bobbed and people wandered the docks. An iridescent dragonfly zipped through the long grass at the edge of the water.
Hackles rising, I realized what it was I was smelling. Wolf! I spun, trying to locate the scent. Shit. I’d had no contact with other wolves for seven years and now two in less than a day? What were the odds? When I needed to change every month, I used the Presidio or the redwood forests in the North Bay. I was always cautious, making sure never to tread near a pack’s territory. A lone wolf, especially a female, was anybody’s meat.
That necklace had been off my neck for less than ten hours and the hits just kept coming. I scanned the street, breathing in the scents of the Marina. Trying to locate the wolf, I eased back in the direction of the jewelry shop. A man walked out of the coffee shop I’d just left, tilting his head, scenting the wind. His eyes unerringly found mine, and I froze. Jogging across the street, he kept me in his sights. I itched to run but knew if I did, I’d become prey.
“Morning,” he said, standing too close. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced around before stepping even closer, his voice low. “I’m visiting and having a hell of a time trying to locate your boss so I can get permission to be here. I can’t scent the pack territory, and you’re the first wolf I’ve run across.” He scanned the street again. “Can you give me your alpha’s name and number, or better yet, as I’m trespassing, can you call and ask him where he wants me to meet him?”
A lie. I felt it in my bones. Something he said wasn’t true, but I didn’t know which part. I didn’t think he was an immediate physical threat, but he was a liar. The scent was wrong, though. This wasn’t the wolf who’d chased me last night. Maybe, though, he was the one cutting up women and dumping them in the bay.
Tall, he had dark, curly hair, light brown eyes, and dimples. Too many years of reading Jane Austen had taught me to be suspicious of overly attractive men. He was a werewolf, after all. Savage was in the DNA.
“There’s no pack in San Francisco.” When he stared at me in confusion, I elaborated. “There’s one in the North Bay, near Bodega Bay, and one in the South Bay, in the Santa Cruz Mountains.” I inched away. “Not sure if the East Bay has one.”
He put a hand on my arm, and something dark and predatory stalked toward me in my mind. “No pack? You’re on your own?”
A deep growl rumbled through my chest. He did not get to put his hands on me.
Holding his hands up in surrender, he smiled, dimples flashing. “No offense intended.”
I straightened my spine. “What I am or am not is none of your concern.” I’d been warned, as a lone female wolf, males would look at me as fair game. He needed to know upfront that I wasn’t a victim waiting for the next asshole to do his best.
He reached out again, gesturing toward the bench. “Sit with me.”
“No.” Hands fisted, I studied his body language, looking for the tell-tale tension in his muscles, letting me know he intended to strike. “I’m leaving now. Don’t follow me.”
Brown eyes scanned me leisurely from head to toe. “I like your city. I might stick around for a while. You wouldn’t mind a little company, would you?” Sitting on the bench, he patted the seat next to him. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s get to know each other.”
I bared my teeth, a growl vibrating in the back of my throat.
He considered me. “Afraid? I won’t hurt you,” he said, with a gleam in his eye.
Ignoring the comment, I moved away, not willing to turn my back on another predator.
He stood, following me. “Don’t leave. It’s Sam, isn’t it?” He scratched the stubble on his jaw, watching me. “I’ve been looking for you.” His gaze snagged on the scar I couldn’t cover with t-shirts, the one that crawled up the side of my neck. He reached out a finger, as though intending to trace it. “I’ve heard all about you.” Predatory eyes found mine as his lips curled into a satisfied smile.
Rage consumed me. My body—my scars—were none of his business. He had no right to me. I’d said no and been ignored. “Back the fuck off,” I growled.
Fear flashed in his eyes, there and gone, but he retreated. He sat back down on the bench, his affable smile back in place.
I turned and walked across the street.
“Oh, and Sam?” he called after me. “We’re not done.”
Five
Middle-earth, California
Not wanting to lead the wolf to Coco and my necklace, I decided I was safer at home and turned a corner. Once out of sight of the wolf, I started jogging. I made it back to the Presidio in no time, but then the path changed. Almost between one step and the next, the bright, sunny day dimmed. Huge trees crowded out the light, leaving me in an unnatural gloom. Turning around, looking for the Presidio I’d just been walking through, I found nothing but towering, ivy-covered trunks and vine-laden underbrush blocking my way. It was as though I had taken a wrong turn into Middle-earth.
Chittering and movement in nearby bushes had me moving again, quickening my pace. Yellow eyes glowed, little pinpricks of light in the dark branches. I ran, trying to outpace my surroundings. Was this like the Kraken?
Fearsome, not fearful. I had to find a way out.
A vine coiled around my ankle, yanking my foot out from under me and sending me crashing to the forest floor. Damp, fecund earth covered in branches and leaves made for a softer than expected landing. A vine twitched under my cheek. I reared back and then movement had me kicking at another as it slithered toward me. The sharp-thorned vine around my left ankle tightened. Fingers slick with blood, I yanked at it again and again, but it wouldn’t release its hold.
Noses twitching, elongated teeth glinting in the low light, rats began to emerge from behind branches and leaves. There had to be dozens of them. The scent of my blood was bringing them out, making them swarm. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
Wrenching desperately at the vine holding me, I brought my ankle to my mouth and bit down, tearing at it. Viscous liquid oozed between my lips, but I couldn’t stop. Dozens of rats had turned into a hundred or more.
They circled, their chittering an unbearable squeal in my brain. One dropped from the trees above onto my head. In a mindless panic, I whipped my head around, trying to dislodge it but it clung, nails scrabbling, tearing at my scalp.
Grunting, I tore viciously at the razor-sharp vine, finally breaking through. I jumped to my feet, trying to locate the path that had just been there. The rats, sensing their prey was escaping, moved in. They ran up my jeans. Sharp teeth bit through the fleshy part of my hand, between and thumb and forefinger. I shook my hand, trying to fling it off, but it gnashed its teeth and wouldn’t let go. More dropped from the branches overhead, clawing my face, neck, shoulders.
Batting them off, unable to stifle the scream that tore at my throat, I ran blindly through the trees, bouncing off trunks, tripping on roots. The rats clung, nails and teeth ripping at my skin. I was lost and being eaten alive. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. The pain and terror dissipated momentarily and then a vine slithered around my neck like a noose and squeezed.
I forced myself to close my eyes and calm my breathing. Rats tore at me, but I focused all my attention on the vine cutting off my air. You’re not real. Doing my best to ignore the rat gnawing on my ear, I thought again, none of this is real. The vine sputtered out of existence. A moment later, though, it was back and squeezing so tight, I thought my head would pop off. I couldn’t explain why, but the vine felt angry.
“Sam!”
Strong hands held my shoulders and shook. Chest pounding, I tasted blood in my mouth again. I opened my eyes and found myself staring straight into hazel green. Cringing, trying to shake off the phantom rats, I wrapped my arms around myself. I could still feel their sharp little nails crawling all over my body, but I was okay. I was out. Coco had been the one to pull me out this time. I breathed in her scent. Smoke and safety.
“Are you with me now?” Her voice was quiet and unsure.
Nodding, I touched my throat. “I was trying to get myself out, but it wasn’t working.” I coughed and looked down. The bottles and brownie bag I’d been holding were on the grass by my feet. I handed Coco the brownies and unscrewed the water bottle, drinking it down in one.
“It was the strangest thing, almost like the vision was pissed off I was even trying. Instead of freaking me out, it was trying to kill me. If you hadn’t pulled me out…” I faltered. The memory was too strong.
Watching a man sunbathing and two girls playing frisbee, I took slow deep breaths. This was reality, not the squealing, biting vision I’d been in. Coco and I stood under a tree, shaded from the mild San Francisco sun. On a nearby path, joggers rounded a corner, coming into view as bicyclists peddled the opposite way. It was a gorgeous day in the Presidio, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of phantom rats crawling up my legs.
“How did you end up out here? You were in my workroom with me.” She laid a hand on my arm, offerin
g comfort.
Heartbeat erratic, I let her hand stay there. “I only stepped out for a minute. I was falling asleep and then…” I’d always had a horrible fear of rats. I’d had nightmares for years as a child after watching Lady and the Tramp. Those red-eyed rats slinking through the nursery, climbing the crib, and trying to eat the baby. They scared me to death. I guess that was the point, wasn’t it? Scaring me to death.
“I’m okay now,” I mumbled.
“No. You’re really not.” She wrapped her hand around my shoulder, seeming to understand I couldn’t handle more touch than that at the moment.
“How did you find me?” Shivering, I tried to relax into the heat and calm of her presence, trusting she’d keep me safe. At least for a little while.
“I heard you screaming in my head.”
A dog barked, making me flinch. Coco moved closer to me as a fluffy, white mop ran by, on the heels of his boy.
“It’s never happened before, but I think I was dialed into you as I cleaned and strengthened the spells on the pendant. I heard you scream and tore out of the shop.” An owl hooted nearby. “And found you here, standing stock still. Eyes open and mouth closed. I could hear the screaming in my head, but I couldn’t wake you. Your heart was beating so fast, I thought it would explode.”
She looked around, sniffing at the wind. “Wolf.”
“What?”
Shaking her head, she continued. “I called everyone I could think of and finally ended up on the line with Clive. He told me what to do, but we didn’t know if it would work with my blood.”
“Clive?” I looked up at the midday sun.
A buzzing sounded. Coco patted my shoulder and answered her phone. “She’s okay. It worked…Yeah, sure.” She put the phone to my ear.