by M H Soars
“He went out with Deacon last night,” Vincent answers.
“Do you think he’s dead, too?” Jeanine turns to me, her eyes bright and frightened.
“I don’t know, but we should expect the worst.”
Immediately, I know my bluntness is not well received. Maybe I should have given them a less pessimistic answer. That’s what my mother would have done. One more reason why she’s the rightful alpha, not me.
“That’s inacceptable. Are we just going to sit around and wait for Valerius to pick us off one by one? We need to attack those motherfuckers.” Charles, one our most experienced enforcers, says.
I understand his anger and frustration, but all his words did was add more fuel to the fire. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “We can’t simply storm Valerius’s territory without a plan.”
“So what’s the plan, then?” Lyria asks, which makes me distrust her even more. She knows I don’t have a plan, but she sure wants to out me in front of the entire enforcer squad. Fucking fantastic.
“Let’s wait to see the video footage first, then I’ll get in touch with our allies. We’ll need all the backup we can get.”
“Since when do we need help from other supes to handle our problems? Your father would have already dealt with Valerius.” Charles crosses his arms, glaring at me openly.
Even though my brothers and I were responsible for my father’s death, his demise was triggered by someone else, maybe even Valerius. But I don’t voice that out loud.
“I said we’ll wait for the video footage,” I say with a growl. “I’m still the beta of this pack. Everyone here ought to remember that.”
Swinging around, I head back to the manor. I can’t stay here and listen to all this nonsense. These wolves don’t know what we’re up against. My headache is worse than before now, but even so, I think I hear someone whisper, “Not for much longer.”
Any other day, I would have turned around and dealt with the discerning voice, but something keeps my feet moving forward as if I no longer have free will.
Chapter 24
Dante
Albert Saint and his wife Madison live in a quaint farm house near Wilmington’s orchard. The two-story wood paneled construction has all the charm from a small town home, but none of the creepiness that seems to attach to every single building in Crimson Hollow. It’s like the town’s curse. Even the alpha’s manor has some otherness to it, as if silently shouting that supernaturals live there.
As far as I know, Albert and Madison are one-hundred-percent human. Per the official agreement put in place after the events of the Thirteen Days of Chaos, every non-supe inhabitant who came into contact with us had their memories altered. The supe community tried their best to keep the truth contained. However, if Albert is indeed a time traveler, my assumption is that he knows the truth. If not, then fuck. I’ll be breaking the accords by telling him about the supernatural world. It’s a risk I must take. I need to know what the connection is between his relative and Red. Zeke wouldn’t have left that list for nothing.
Madison owns The Little Witch Cafe, a popular spot that serves not only the best coffee in town, but also excellent sandwiches and cakes. Albert is a history teacher at Crimson Hollow’s high school. Since school is out for the summer, I’m hoping to catch him home.
Standing on his front porch, I ring the door bell, but I can’t seem to remain still as I wait. I’m fidgety. For the past hour, I’ve been feeling a great sense of unease, a constant pain in my chest. I don’t know if it was Billy’s story about his close encounter with a demon or if something happened to Red, but I won’t rest until she’s back with us. The time to tread carefully has passed. Whether Red wants it or not, we’re getting her out of there.
I hear footsteps approach. A moment later, the front door swings open. Albert is in his mid-forties, but he looks ten years younger. His brown hair is combed back and styled impeccably. The same can be said about his attire, which is slacks and a button-down shirt. I have a hunch those are his leisure clothes.
“Dante Wolfe?” He opens the screen door, his eyes narrowing a little.
“Hello, Albert. I’m sorry to bother you. I was hoping you would help me with a history question I have about the town’s founders.”
“Oh?” The man arches his eyebrows.
“May I come in?”
“But of course. Where are my manners? Forgive me.” He opens the door wider to let me through.
I take a quick glance at the space. Dark wood flooring offers a nice contrast to the pale gray walls. To my right, a cozy living room seems to have been decorated by someone from the HGTV channel. I even spot one of my paintings hanging above the fireplace.
Albert follows my line of vision. “Madison and I love that piece. It really spoke to us.”
It’s one of my most abstract and colorful works, and one of the few not inspired by my visions. Those paintings I’d never sell.
“I’m glad it found a great home.”
“May I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea, or water perhaps?”
His British accent is noticeable, which makes me even more suspicious that he’s indeed not from our time. It was common for wealthy families to send their sons to study in England back in the nineteenth century. I couldn’t find any trace that Robert E. Saint had a relative named Albert, but it means nothing. At least, I’m hoping it means nothing.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” I reply.
Albert points at the couch. “Please take a seat.”
I follow his instructions and Albert sits across from me, crossing one leg over the knee. “How can I help you?”
“I’d like to know more about one of you ancestors. Robert E. Saint to be precise.”
I can see the change in the man’s expression. It becomes guarded, his entire body tenser. “What would like to know about him?”
“I’ll cut straight to the chase. Rumor has it that you’re not from this time. Is that true?”
Albert’s gaze narrows as he stares without saying a word. His jaw is locked tight, and I’m afraid my bluntness will make him clamp up.
“Where did you hear that?” he finally asks.
“Do you know what I am?” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Yes,” he answers simply.
“Did you come from the same time as when Robert was the mayor of this town?”
God, I feel like I’m a cop in an interrogation room. But there’s no time to waste beating around the bush.
“Yes, sort of.” Albert looks away, rubbing his face. “I haven’t spoken about this with anyone besides Madison. Not even our kids know.”
“I won’t breathe a word of this conversation. You have my word.”
Albert nods, his gaze going a little out of focus. “Robert was older than me, twenty-seven and already a man of his own when I boarded the ship to England. He helped build this town, literally brick by brick.”
Finally, some good news. “Did he have any friends?”
“I suppose he did.”
“Does the name Natalia Petroviski sound familiar to you?”
There’s a flash of shock in Albert’s eyes as they become wider. “Yes, as a matter of fact. She’s the lass Robert fell desperately in love with. This is one of the most vivid memories I have of my cousin. Right before I was to leave Crimson Hollow, Robert took me out for drinks, only something happened in the course of the night that distressed him profoundly. He was usually a responsible man, but that evening he got drunk to the point he couldn’t walk home. He told me about Natalia, the love of his life according to him, and how he could never marry her.”
“Why couldn’t he marry her?” I ask, already on the edge of my seat.
“Because she wasn’t one of us. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant. I thought that perhaps she was from a lower class. But now, knowing what I know, I think she might have been a supernatural.”
“A wolf shifter,” I say more to myself than to Albert.
“It’s possible. How did you come across that name? I’ve read every book and chronicles I could get my hands on about that time, and she wasn’t mentioned in any of them.”
“It was a list someone gave to me. Here.” I give Albert the folded piece of paper. “Do you recognize any of the other names in it?”
“No. I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.” He returns the list.
“Did he say anything else on that evening about Natalia? Where she was from, where she lived?”
“No, but he did tell me they used to meet by Silver Falls.”
“That’s near the Ravenwood border, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed.”
My mind is whirling, which makes me silent for a moment. So Robert and Natalia were involved. I’d bet all my money that Natalia was the original Mother of Wolves, what I’m not sure about is if Robert was human by the time of his death. He married another, that much I know. But he could have been made a shifter and been part of Natalia’s pack in the end.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more information. As I said before, I left Crimson Hollow and didn’t return until a few years later, and then, well, I didn’t stick around that time for much longer.”
“No worries. The information you gave me was helpful.” I stand up, and Albert does the same. “I’d better get going. Thanks for your time. I really appreciate it.”
“Natalia Petroviski might not be in any official record or book, but Madison’s former roommate, Cher Suzuki, found a chest filled with old witches’ diaries around the time I came here. Sadly, the chest has disappeared.”
“Cher Suzuki? Who is she?”
“A witch. She left Crimson Hollow soon after things calmed down around here. Not even Madison knows where she is or if she’s still alive.”
Fuck, another dead end.
“Do you think she took the diaries with her?”
“That I’m not sure, but if the diaries remain in Crimson Hollow, I can only think of one person who might have them.”
A name immediately pops in my head, and Albert promptly confirms my hunch.
“Wendy Redford.”
Chapter 25
Samuel
I don’t know what wakes me from the most peaceful sleep I had in weeks, but when I finally manage to open my eyelids, it feels like I’m underwater. My muscles are languid; I have no strength in my body. It takes me a moment to remember why I feel so strange. Mrs. Redford drugged me with Goodnight, Cinderella, a potent sedative capable of knocking out a bear for hours.
Somehow, she managed to drag my sorry, sleepy ass to her couch in the living room. There’s no way she could have done that without the help of magic. I’m pissed she drugged me but in the end, it was my fault for not being more careful. Mrs. Redford’s sweet innocent face is just a façade. She’s a powerful, cunning witch, and I keep forgetting that.
I sit up, and the room begins to spin. Throwing my legs off the couch, I rest my head in my hands and close my eyes. My temples throb, a sure sign that a brutal headache is coming.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Mrs. Redford enters the room. “Good. I made fresh coffee, and there’s bacon with eggs if you wish to eat.”
“You drugged me, witch.”
“For you own good. Now, you should eat. Goodnight, Cinderella has nasty side effects. You’ll feel better on a full belly.”
I glare at the old lady. The first thing I notice is her clothes. She ditched her usual granny dress, going for sensible khaki pants, a button-down plaid shirt, and hiking boots.
“Where are you going?”
“We’re going on a little trip. I’m just waiting for—”
A knock on the door interrupts what she was about to say. “Ah, it must be him.”
“Who?”
Ignoring my question, she opens the door…and color me surprised, Dante is standing there.
“Good morning, Mrs. Redford. I—”
“Yes, yes. I know why you’re here. Come in. I bet you also haven’t had anything to eat.”
Dante crosses the threshold, and I wish I had my phone with me to capture his expression of utter shock when he sees me there. My brother is not taken by surprise easily. He doesn’t need to have a vision to guess stuff, thanks to his gift.
“Did you spend the night?” he asks.
“I had a date with Cinderella last night.”
Scrunching his eyebrows together, Dante turns to Mrs. Redford. “I just came from an interesting visit with Albert Saint.”
Fine. Ignore the fact the shady grandma poisoned me last night, brother dearest.
“Oh, and what prompted you to visit him? A question about Crimson Hollow’s history, perhaps?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Zeke Rogers left town in a hurry, but before he did so, he left a list with names for us. Robert E. Saint was on that list, and also the name of only one woman, Natalia Petroviski.”
“And what did Albert have to say about his cousin?”
“Whoa, hold up.” I raise my hand. “I’m feeling a little lost here. Would any of you care to explain what the hell you’re talking about?”
Dante looks over his shoulder and blows out a heavy breath. “Albert Saint traveled through time twenty-five years ago when the portals to different dimensions opened. He’s from the nineteenth century. Robert E. Saint, one of the names on the list, was his cousin. It seems Robert fell in love with Natalia Petroviski, but due to her otherness nature, they couldn’t be together. Albert didn’t know much about her, but he hinted something about some old diaries.”
Dante turns to Mrs. Redford again. “You have those diaries, don’t you?”
“What diaries?” I ask. “And why do they matter?”
Ignoring my question, Mrs. Redford nods to Dante. “Yes. Cher Suzuki asked me to guard them during her absence.”
My body is achy, I have a shitty headache, and being left out of the loop is grating on my nerves. Irritated, I stand, hands on my hips and all. “Who the hell is Cher?”
“She’s not important, Sam,” Dante snaps. “Stop asking stupid questions.”
“Fuck you, Dante.”
Mrs. Redford turns her glare to me. “You’d better watch your tongue, boy. You’re in my house, and I won’t tolerate that kind of language.”
Ah, shit. That’s exactly what I need. To be scolded like a little child. I bite back an angry retort. Antagonizing the witch more won’t do me any favors, not when I need her to give me the cloaking spell.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, looking at my feet.
“I’d like to see those diaries. I’m not sure why Zeke left that list of names for me, but I take it’s important. Maybe if we learn more about Natalia and her relationship with Robert, we can figure out how she ties in with Red and the rest of us.”
Mrs. Redford seems to get lost in her head, and she doesn’t speak for a minute. Then, she locks gazes with Dante first, then me.
“I never dared to look into those diaries. They were the personal accounts of witches from the past, and it felt like an invasion of their privacy to read them. But I feel in my bones that dark times are coming once more, so I’ll take you to them.”
“I don’t have time to go in search for some stupid diaries. I’m going after Red.”
Dante turns to me, his face twisted into a grimace. “Let me get this straight. You want to go into Valerius’s territory in broad daylight without knowing where they’re keeping Red? Are you out of your goddamned mind?”
“Language, Dante.” I raise an eyebrow, and all Mrs. Redford does is shake her head. So I get a tongue lashing and Dante gets nothing. I see how things are. Clearly, Red’s grandmother has a favorite.
“You’re not going there. It’s a foolish, suicidal mission.”
I lose all my attempted levity in a split second, taking a step toward my brother. “Did you know Valerius is in cahoots with a demon, Dante? Did you? We can’t let Red stay with that deranged alpha for another second. Can’t you feel the heaviness in your chest?
Something has happened to her. I know it deep in my bones.”
A flash of pain shines in Dante’s eyes. He’s been too relaxed about Red’s kidnapping, and I would like to believe he knows something we don’t. But if that was the case, he would have said something.
“Yes. I’ve sensed something is off. But we have to wait until nighttime at least, and Tristan should come with us. We need the numbers, Sam.”
A growl bubbles up my throat. Inaction is not how I roll.
“I guess none of you are hungry, so we should get going.”
“Where exactly are we going?” I watch the old witch through slits.
“Do you think I’d keep the diaries here? In my home? I’m not foolish.”
Crossing his arms, Dante asks. “So where exactly are they?”
“In the place people would least expect. Come on, let’s go. It’s a little bit of a drive and then a ten-minute hike.”
Mrs. Redford walks out, but Dante and I don’t follow her right way.
“So, Red’s grandmother drugged you, huh? I bet you didn’t expect that from her.”
“Nope. Lesson learned. She ain’t fooling me anymore with that sweet grandmother face. That lady is ruthless.” I pause for a second, and then, I ask, “How is… Mom?”
“She’s hanging in there. Found her at the library studying witchcraft.”
“That’s unexpected. I didn’t think she still practiced.”
“She didn’t, but I think she needs it now, you know? To connect with a part of her that wasn’t linked to Dad.”
I nod, unable to imagine what it must be like for Mom right now. I can’t dwell too much in the sentiment or it will take over me, so I ask. “Albert Saint is from the past, huh? No wonder he loathed the textbooks he had to teach from. The inaccuracies must have drove the man insane.”
“That’s right. The rumors were true. I forgot he was your teacher in junior year. He didn’t have much to say besides the fact Robert E. Saint was romantically involved with Natalia. I think she was a wolf shifter, Sam. I think she was the Mother of Wolves.”