The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  Yet as the too-familiar streets of Salem loomed before her, Emily knew that sticking around in the town which harbored her worst memories would be even more of a test of her wits than returning to New York with nothing.

  I’ll give her one day, she thought, gritting her teeth. If I haven’t made contact by tomorrow morning, Sammy can head to Canada, and I’ll fly back to New York with Dustin. I’ll lay low in the hotel, and no one will ever know that little Emily Pasternik came home to Salem.

  3

  Twelve Years Ago

  Marcel cracked his gum loudly, but instead of reprimanding him, the teacher in charge only rose and sighed, shaking her head as if her life had been ruined, having to spend an hour after school with the unruly junior student.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes, Mr. Forrester. I trust you won’t get into any trouble in that time.”

  Marcel grunted and said nothing, not bothering to raise his head as the teacher manning detention strolled out of the room with a pinched expression on her face. He was the only one in the room that afternoon, and idly, he wondered if teachers resented one another for putting kids in detention. If there were no students left behind after school hours, then whoever was on duty could go home, couldn’t they?

  Or do they just resent the kids? That seems easier somehow, and they all hate us for something, anyway, Marcel mused.

  He sighed and pretended to focus on his English assignment, but his mind was on the pack meeting that night. His father would be announcing his successor, and Marcel had a terrible feeling that his younger brother was going to be named over him. It would be a horrible insult, and his father knew that.

  Which is why he’s apt to name Ever over me. Ever is more like Dad, anyway. It shouldn’t shock me that he picks him, Marcel told himself, trying to talk his temper down. It wasn’t working. He felt his claws elongate, digging into his palms in protest.

  Perhaps that was why Marcel had been acting out so overtly in the past weeks, landing himself in a post-school punishment every day for two weeks; he’d been avoiding going home and facing the music.

  But tonight, there will be no escaping that. Then I’ll have to deal with Ever gloating about his victory and Dad shaking his head in disappointment at me. I can’t wait, were his next bitter thoughts.

  He was so lost in his own misery that he didn’t see the girl until she was already inside the classroom. “Oh.”

  Marcel’s head moved upward, a strand of too-long dark hair falling against his long lashes before he brushed it away and saw a girl standing awkwardly in the doorway, staring around the room.

  “This isn’t detention, is it?”

  His interest piqued, Marcel sat back and folded his arms to study the newcomer, wondering what the slight brunette could have done to land herself in jail with him. He guessed her to be a freshman, her brown eyes wide and innocent as she stared at him, awaiting an answer. Marcel was sure he’d never seen her around. He’d have remembered a pixie face like hers. She was cute in an almost nerdy way that reminded him of Nancy Drew.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he leered, wanting to fuel her discomfort, as any good junior should. “Depends on who’s asking.”

  “Where’s the teacher in charge?” Her nervousness was showing, and Marcel couldn’t help exploiting it. He was losing power on the home front, but he was still very much a king at school.

  “What do we need a teacher for?” he jeered. “We can have our own detention party.”

  The girl’s eyes flashed, and she snorted, a defensiveness overcoming the vulnerability he’d thought he’d seen. Instead of answering him, she stalked toward the back of the room and sat as far away from him as possible.

  “Not much of a partier, huh?” Marcel taunted, and the girl pulled her books out of her backpack, throwing herself into whatever reading assignment she could find. “I’m not surprised.”

  Before he could get another word in, Ms. Landers returned and paused when she saw the new girl in the room.

  “I’m sorry; who are you?” she demanded, her brow knitting as she stalked toward the clipboard on the desk.

  “Emily Pasternik.” Ms. Landers’ frown deepened, and she shook her head.

  “You’re not on the detention list,” she said. The girl’s face lit up, and she jumped up from her desk.

  “Great. I’ll be going then.”

  “Not so fast!” Ms. Landers wasn’t about to be outsmarted. “Who sent you here?”

  Sighing, Emily lowered her gaze. “Mr. Ingle.”

  Ms. Landers nodded slowly. “He’s still here—in the teacher’s lounge. I’ll go have a chat with him. Don’t move.”

  She nodded for the girl to return to her desk, and reluctantly, Emily obliged, but the second Ms. Landers left the room, she was out of her seat again.

  “Come on, Forrester,” she growled. “We don’t have much time.”

  Marcel blinked and stared at her as she gathered her books. At first, he thought he’d imagined what she’d said.

  “What?” he asked, hating how dumb his voice sounded in that moment.

  “What, what? Let’s go. I’m breaking you out.”

  “Breaking me out? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Seriously? Are you Marcel Forrester or not?” The dubiousness in her face made him tense. “Because the guy I’ve been hearing about wouldn’t be worried about sneaking out of detention when a cute girl offers him an out.”

  Marcel’s mouth gaped, but he found himself rising to join her at the door, his face flushing with embarrassment.

  “You’re not that cute,” he snapped. Emily only chuckled, looking both ways down the hall before waving him to follow.

  “Sure I am, or you wouldn’t be coming with me right now.”

  “Maybe I have really low standards,” he shot back.

  “Lucky me,” Emily sniggered, and Marcel didn’t know what to make of that.

  Did one of the pack members send her in to get me? It seemed unlikely. It wasn’t rocket science to escape detention, and even if it was, the pack would have just come for him themselves.

  “What do you want with me?” Marcel asked, his curiosity overriding his desire to return to the classroom and do his time. It was certainly a first for him, and he had to admit that he found it intriguing.

  “Let’s get out of here first, and we’ll talk about that,” Emily told him. Again, Marcel was struck by the determination emanating from the youthful face.

  “You know we’re both going to be in deep shit tomorrow,” he commented. Again, he didn’t know why he’d said anything at all. He wasn’t bothered by the prospect.

  Emily paused at the back doors and peered at him speculatively. “I’m surprised that’s something that worries you. I guess the rumors about you aren’t true.”

  Marcel bristled. “I don’t know what the rumors are,” he retorted, pushing past her into the spring afternoon. “And I’m not worried. I’m just stating a fact. We’re going to get double detention.”

  Emily hurried to catch up with him, but he didn’t slow his gait. “Well, Captain Obvious, it doesn’t matter. You’ve been in detention eighteen times this semester. What’s another day or two going to do?”

  He froze and glanced at her in shock. “How do you know how many times I’ve been in detention?” he growled, the hairs on his neck rising. Had his father sent her? Marcel had never seen her in the halls. Who was she?

  “I’ve had my eye on you since the beginning of the school year,” Emily confessed, and before he could stop himself, Marcel drew upon her, feeling his pulse racing as his body threatened to shift. The combination of anger and confusion was proving dangerous.

  Control your temper! someone in his head screamed at him. You can’t shift in front of a mortal. That will be your death.

  “Funny,” he hissed. “I’ve never seen you around.” To his surprise, there was no trace of fear in Emily’s face.

  “I’m stealthy,” she told him with a shrug.

  “Who are yo
u and what do you want?” he rasped. “You have one minute to tell me before I walk away.”

  “I’m Emily Pasternik, and I want an exclusive,” she told him.

  Marcel was sure he’d misheard her again, and he stared at her with sheer perplexity on his face as he tried to make sense of what she was asking. Did she think they were in a relationship or something? Was she insane?

  It was beginning to sound more and more like she was unbalanced as they continued to speak, yet Marcel remained in place, watching her animated face as she looked up at him imploringly.

  “An exclusive what?” he demanded. “I don’t even know you!”

  “No,” she agreed quickly, flashing him a charming smile. “You don’t. But I feel like I know you, Marcel.”

  Once more, alarm fused through his body, and he shook his head in disbelief. “You need to leave me alone, Emily. My friends and I don’t take kindly to being followed.”

  Despite hoping she could hear the threat in his words, Emily seemed unfazed.

  “I know,” she told him. “That’s why I want an exclusive.”

  “What does that mean?” he choked, the color draining from his face.

  “I’m a writer for the Kennedian Courier, and I want to do an exposé on the packs in the Western US, starting with yours.”

  Marcel wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry or scream. Not today of all days, not when Father is about to name his successor. A mortal found out about us, about our pack… this is not going to be good for business.

  “I-I have no idea what you’re—” He trailed off. “The Kennedian Courier?”

  “Yes. It’s Kennedy High’s newspaper.”

  “You don’t even go to my school?” Emily shook her silken head of hair.

  “I never said I did,” she replied slyly. Marcel wasn’t sure how to react.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emily, but I suggest you stay away from here. If you know what’s good for you.” Disappointment colored her face, and she stared at him pleadingly.

  “If that’s how you feel,” she sighed. “I just thought that you’d have a lot to say, since you’re the son of an alpha.” Marcel hissed, his teeth baring dangerously. Emily didn’t flinch. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she told him evenly. “You have far too much to risk.”

  “Get away from me,” he snarled, forcing himself to maintain his calm with every fiber of his being. “If I see you again, I can’t promise the outcome will be the same.”

  “Will you talk to me if your father names Ever his successor?”

  Marcel’s blood was like ice running through his veins, and he knew he had to get away from this precocious mortal before anything happened to her. She knew his family. She knew his brother’s name. There was a leak inside the pack.

  He flew away from the back doors as fast as his legs could take him, but before he could get out of earshot, he heard Emily calling out to him.

  “You can look me up if you change your mind. I’m the only Pasternik in the phone book!”

  Fat chance, he thought grimly as he hurried away. He knew what he needed to do: go to his father and tell him about a mortal girl playing Nancy Drew into pack matters.

  But for some reason he could not understand, he didn’t go home, and he ended up somewhere else that afternoon.

  No, present-day Marcel thought to himself. I went to let off some steam in that seedy back-alley tavern in West Salem.

  It was a decision that returned to haunt him as he stared at Emily Piper’s deep brown eyes through the computer screen.

  Emily Pasternik. She became a journalist after all, he thought, swallowing the lump of shame in his throat. Relief and concern swirled through him simultaneously as he saw that she was working in New York, but that wasn’t good enough. He needed to see her face-to-face and see if Landon was right about her, if Gabriel had turned her.

  If so, that meant she was more dangerous to Marcel than she’d ever been—and that he was solely responsible for it.

  4

  The knock on the hotel room door jarred Emily, and she froze before racing to answer it. No one knows you’re here except for Sammy, Dustin, and Greg. No need to be paranoid. And even if anyone did know you were here, no one cares.

  Emily was beginning to think she needed a new refrain to sing in her head. Her old mantra wasn’t doing jack to help her through.

  “Who is it?” she demanded.

  “It’s me. Who else?” She pulled open the door and peered at Sammy, who grinned at her disarmingly. “Any luck finding Patricia?” Emily shook her head.

  “Not yet,” she sighed, turning to allow him inside. “She’s not answering, and the phone keeps going straight to voicemail.”

  “Have you called Greg yet?”

  Emily grunted. “We’re not doing that until we know for sure this is a bust!” she insisted. “And it’s only been a few hours.”

  “Em, he’s not going to be happy if he finds out you’ve been holding out.” Emily whirled and glared at him.

  “It’s not over yet!” she insisted. “Something’s not right about this. What if someone got wind of her being here before we arrived? What if she’s in danger?”

  A look of wariness crossed over Sammy’s face. “So, what do you suggest we do about that? This is why we should call Greg and see what he thinks. If—”

  “This is my story!” Emily snapped, not wanting the back and forth with him. “I’m going to say how it’s run. I’m going to keep trying her tonight, so be ready to go on a moment’s notice.”

  A wry smile touched Sammy’s lips, and he cocked his head to the side. “That’s the life, kid. We’re always ready to go on a moment’s notice.”

  “Did you come here to light a fire under my ass?” she asked, sinking onto the foot of the bed. Emily hadn’t unpacked a thing, and she had no intention of doing so, either; not when she had no desire to stay in Salem a second longer than necessary.

  “No,” Sammy chuckled. “I came to ask if you want to join Dusty and me for dinner. I had a feeling you’d be in here climbing the walls.”

  She started to shake her head, but she realized that she couldn’t stay there, pacing the room endlessly, waiting for word all night. It might be good to get out of here for a few hours. She weighed the pros and cons of leaving the hotel. Pro: she wouldn’t be driving herself crazy. Con: she might run into someone she knew.

  Emily gnawed on her lower lip, thinking.

  “You need to eat, Emmy,” Sammy chided her gently. “You’re not doing anyone any good sitting around here, and you can call while we’re out.” Slowly, Emily nodded.

  “All right,” she relented. “But let’s not go anywhere too crowded.” Sammy peered at her pensively.

  “Being back here has really shaken you up, huh?” he asked curiously.

  “I’m just worried about Patricia,” she lied. “Come on.” Grabbing her purse and key fob, she nodded for him to follow her out the door, and Sammy did without argument.

  They met Dustin in the lobby of the Best Western, and together, the trio piled back into the van.

  “You took all the equipment out?” Emily commented with surprise. The men exchanged a glance and laughed.

  “You really are a country girl at heart, aren’t you?” Sammy asked, laughing. “We’re not leaving ten thousand dollars worth of recording gear in the parking lot of a hotel.”

  “Robberies aren’t really the kind of thing you need to worry about in Salem,” Emily sighed. The people of Salem had much bigger problems than that.

  She shivered at the unbidden thought of her youth, and inexplicably, an image of Marcel Forrester popped into her mind. I was so stupid when I was a kid, she thought, shaking her head as Dustin pulled out of the lot. How little I knew about anything. I was lucky I found Marcel before any of the others—or rather, before any of the others found me.

  Fleetingly, a memory of a leering Lycan entered her mind, and she shoved it away, stuffing it back into the depth of her subconscio
us where it belonged. There’s no such thing as werewolves, she told herself firmly.

  “This is your town, Emily. Where are we going?” Dustin asked, making her realize that they were waiting for direction.

  “I haven’t been back here in almost a decade,” Emily reminded them. “I have no idea what’s still around.”

  “Well, can you at least point us in a direction?” Dustin grumbled, but even as he asked, his fingers were working the GPS, as if he could tell she would be of no use to him.

  “I don’t care,” she insisted. “As long as it’s off the beaten path.”

  “Isn’t everything off the beaten path around here?” Sammy joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m calling Patricia again,” she told him, ignoring his jibe. This time, when she called, the phone went directly to voicemail. “She turned her phone off…” Emily disconnected the call without leaving another message and peered out into the fading evening light thoughtfully.

  “So, she’s ghosting you,” Sammy concluded.

  “Or something’s wrong,” Emily insisted. “I don’t understand why she’d go through all the trouble to get us out here if she was just going to bail. It’s not like she’s some criminal mastermind, or an addict waiting to get paid for the story who got a better offer.”

  “But she is the missing mistress of a senator,” Sammy reminded her. “Maybe she just reconsidered as the interview got closer. Maybe, like you said, the senator and his cronies found out where she was and threatened her to keep quiet.”

  Emily nodded, her mind whirling. “More the reason to see this through,” she said firmly. Sammy groaned in response.

  “I really am supposed to be in Canada tomorrow,” he told her. “One way or another, we need to call Greg and tell him something. I can’t just not show up on location.”

  Emily gritted her teeth.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll call Greg and tell him that I need you here with me for another day, but you don’t tell him that we haven’t made contact with Patricia yet, okay?”