by M H Soars
You’re wrong, Amelia.
The voice again. The one that always spoke to me when I let my thoughts wander. This time, instead of ignoring it, I decide to talk back.
I don’t know what to do. The chip is controlling everything my wolf does. It has cut off my connection to it.
The chip does nothing but create dissonance. They’re waves of energy. They can be breached.
Who are you?
You haven’t figured it out already? I’m you.
“Ah, Penelope, perfect timing.” Martin addresses someone, interrupting my crazy conversation with the voice in my head. What did she mean she’s me? Have I been hearing my own conscience this whole time?
A blonde, short woman with hair pulled back into a severe bun is staring at Martin as though she hates his guts. She would gain points in my book if she wasn’t wearing a white lab coat and carrying a chart in her hand. She must be another butcher doctor, so she can burn in hell as far as I’m concerned. An image of a towering fire comes to my mind, and that’s exactly what I want to see. I want to raze this building, burn it to the ground until there’s nothing left but charred soil where it once stood.
The voice—be it my conscience or not—goes silent, but her last words to me are all I can think about. That is, until a command blasts through my brain, almost an electric-shock. White-hot pain makes me whine out loud, and, for a moment, my sight deserts me. When my vision returns, Martin is standing in front of me with a perverse smile on his lips.
What the fuck was that?
The static noise becomes louder in my ears, then it morphs into a command in a robotic voice. Attack the woman. Maim, do not kill.
My wolf growls even if part of me knows this is crazy. Martin’s companion widens her eyes as she sees my aggressive stance.
“What did you tell the wolf to do?”
The robotic voice keeps repeating the same command, which only makes my aggression increase every time it sounds in my head. This is the exact same command I heard coming from Victor in our first battle. It’s maddening, enough to drive anyone insane.
I take a step forward, the hairs on my neck standing on one end. Even though I don’t want to, I will attack this woman. Sure, I hate her guts on principal for what she is involved in, but I’m not a murderer.
“Martin, cut it out. This is not funny.” The woman takes a step backward, ready to flee. I pick up her scent of fear, which only serves to fuel the savageness of the beast more.
No. I don’t want to do this. I can’t turn into Victor.
They’re just waves of energy, Amelia. They can be breached.
My conscience, she’s still here, albeit not as strong as before. She’s right, the command, it’s resonance; it doesn’t have any real substance. To get out of its prison, I have to find a different frequency. The chip’s command is pretty high, which means, to break free from it, I need to go low. The question is—how do I do that?
I feel my leg muscles tense; my wolf is ready to attack the woman. I have maybe a few seconds. The repetitive command is as high as music in a club. And what did I use to do to be overheard over the loud music? The common instinct is to try to speak louder than the noise, but what really works is to speak at a lower frequency. I think I know what to do. Let’s hope it will work.
I push my will barreling toward the robotic noise, tuning it out by concentrating on a low humming in my head. I still find resistance, but it’s much less. With a mental grunt, I manage to get to the other side where my wolf’s energy is spinning out of control. I shoot my human conscience straight into the eye of the storm, realizing a second too late that this could have been a terrible mistake. If I can’t control my wolf’s essence, I’ll be lost to the bloodlust.
It’s a struggle, a battle of wills, until, in the last second, I, Amelia Redford, become one with the wolf. Our thoughts are in synch. Most importantly, we’re in control. The bindings controlling my wolf’s body snap. I could attack Martin instead, but if I do so, the woman will sound the alarm. No, the best course of action is to make Martin believe he has complete control over me.
Doing as the command said, I attack the idiotic woman who is too slow trying to escape. She barely turns when I jump on her back, sending her to the floor.
“Get her off me!” She flays under me.
I know Martin is watching every movement I make, and the command was to maim, not kill. I bite her shoulder, letting my sharp teeth sink into her flesh. She yells in pain. For a split second, I feel bad. But then I remember she’s part of Valerius’s nefarious operation and the sentiment evaporates. She’s lucky I’m in control. I could have done some real damage to her otherwise.
“Martin!” she begs.
I receive another command to let go of her, which I promptly obey, like the good dog that I am.
The woman gets onto her knees, trembling nonstop, and throws a murderous glare in Martin’s direction. “You’ll pay for this, asshole.”
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad. You’re not even bleeding that much.”
She manages to get onto her shaking legs and then scrambles out of the room.
“Shift back, Amelia. Let’s get you settled in your new quarters.”
I do as he says, making sure I prolong the process for as long as I can. One thing I noticed is that controlled wolves take longer to shift, so I must keep up with the charade. I failed to convince Valerius I was a loyal Shadow Creek wolf, but now that I have a chip in place, I can’t let them know I’m able to override it. This is my last chance to bring Valerius down from the inside. If they find out I’m not controlled by them, they will kill me.
Once back into my human form, I hug my knees, trying to appear smaller and afraid. “Where am I going now?”
“Don’t worry. It’s definitely better than that hovel Valerius put you in. Unlike him, I take care of what’s mine.”
“I thought Valerius owned all the wolves.”
The corners of Martin’s lips twist up, mischief shining in his eyes. “That’s what he thinks.”
Chapter 28
Dante
I’ve lived my entire life in Crimson Hollow, and I’ve never been to this particular part of Misty Forest. On higher ground, it spans three mountain ranges, making it the largest forest in the area. Eighty-percent of the time, it’s shrouded by mist, hence its name. I never knew if the occurrence was natural or put in place by a supe with something to hide.
Soaking my surroundings in and registering peculiar details is the only way I can distract my mind from worrying about Red. I don’t need to read Sam’s mind to know he doesn’t think I care enough. Fuck, he couldn’t be more wrong. But I see the chaos brewing in his eyes, the mad will to seek revenge. And Tristan, shit, I don’t know what’s going on with him. So I have to remain sane, be the one who’s thinking clearly for once. In a way, I swapped places with Tristan, and it sucks to be in his shoes.
The ride becomes rough when we veer into a dirt path up the mountain. The strangest thing is that I’ve been in this mountain before several times, and this particular trek I’ve always missed.
“Where did this road come from? I don’t remember ever seeing it,” Sam asks from the backseat.
“It’s concealed by magic. Only a few are able to see it.”
“Why?” I ask, keeping my eye on the road ahead. The path is narrow, and wild vegetation on both sides seem to want to swallow the vehicle.
“Because of what lays ahead. It’s not safe.”
“Where exactly did you hide the diaries? Satan’s lair?” Sam grumbles.
“Not quite, but equally dangerous.”
Great. Now Mrs. Redford is going to speak in riddles. What’s wrong with giving straight answers? Look who’s talking, my conscience says. I grind my teeth and ignore the thought. I, too, withhold information. We all did, especially to Red. If we hadn’t been so wrapped up in pack politics and procedures and actually took the time to explain things to her, maybe she wouldn’t be in Valerius’s hands ri
ght now. I wish I had the power to go back in time.
After listening to Mrs. Redford give directions for about half an hour, we finally come to the end of the path. A great ancient tree trunk blocks the road.
“What now?” Sam asks.
“Now we walk the rest of the way.” Mrs. Redford gets out of the car, and we have no choice but to follow her.
Here the forest is so dense, the tall trees block most of the sunlight. Only a few rays manage to break through their canopy. Mrs. Redford climbs atop the fallen tree, nimble as a cat, then jumps to the other side. Next to me, Sam curses under his breath.
“What’s the matter?” I send the question to his mind.
“Look at her, Dante. As healthy as she can be. I can’t believe she lied to Red all these years about her illness. It makes me sick.”
I don’t say anything for a couple of beats. I’d hate to pass judgment on Red’s grandmother. She must have had her reasons for doing so. I hope that, with time, Red can forgive the old lady.
“Maybe she didn’t think she had any other choice.”
“Whatever. I don’t trust her. She fucking drugged me last night, Dante, although, I don’t think you care.”
“Were you about to do something foolish?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Then I’m glad she did. We can’t be hot heads now, Sam. Any wrong move on our part can put Red at even higher risk.”
“Oh, like the stupid stunt Mom had us do, letting Tristan go up to Valerius to claim Red as his mate?”
That backfired, royally. I have to give that to Sam. Returning to Crimson Hollow without Red was one of the hardest things I had to do. I couldn’t let Sam see that at the time, though. If he had read in my eyes my despair, there would be no dissuading him from leaving without her.
“Are you two done gossiping?” Mrs. Redford asks from a little ahead. “It’s rude to talk telepathically when you’re among people who are not part of the conversation.”
“Like drugging people isn’t,” Sam retorts, earning a glare from me.
“Will you let it drop?” I say under my breath.
Mrs. Redford chuckles, and it’s obvious her reaction only irritated my brother further.
“How much longer until we get to where we need to be?” I ask before Sam decides to antagonize the witch more.
“Not so much longer now.”
“Where exactly are we going? Did you bury the diaries deep in the forest? That can’t be good for paper,” Sam grumbles.
Shit, I don’t think he’ll ever forgive Mrs. Redford for sedating him.
“No. I’ve hidden the diaries in a place no one will dare cross.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Sam open his big mouth again. To keep him from spewing another barb, I elbow his arm. “Enough already. I thought you wanted Mrs. Redford to cast another cloaking spell.”
“Fine. I just want this to be over with. I really don’t see how a bunch of old diaries can help us rescue Red.”
It would be pointless to try to explain to Sam why acquiring knowledge can be beneficial. Never mind that he hired Nina Ogata to get intel. Sometimes, I can’t understand my brother’s thought process.
When I think the vegetation couldn’t get any thicker, it suddenly gives away to reveal a clearing. Straight ahead, a cave almost hidden from view due to the moss and vines that curl around the rock, surfaces. In fact, I can only see a sliver of darkness between the branches that offer a green curtain to the entrance.
A gust of wind coming from inside the cave disturbs the vines, and a shiver runs down my back. Deep in my bones, I know that’s no ordinary breeze. It curls around my spine, an invisible touch, cold and malevolent.
“What’s this place?” Sam whispers, as if not wanting to disturb the strange vibes he’s probably picking up as well.
“This used to be a torture chamber in the nineteenth century when witches were persecuted and killed.”
“What?” Sam almost shouts. “Why would you hide the diaries there?”
“Because the ghosts of the witches who died in there still haunt the place. No one gets in without their permission.”
Sam takes a step back, shaking his head. “I’m not going in there.”
I roll my eyes. I had forgotten about Sam’s irrational fear of ghosts.
“Fine. You can stay here, but be warned the ghosts are not bound to the cave. They can roam freely in the area nearby as well,” Mrs. Redford replies with a smirk on her lips.
Seeming spooked, Sam moves closer to me. “Fine. I’ll stick with you guys. But this better not be another trap.”
With a disapproving clicking sound of her tongue, Mrs. Redford takes a couple of steps forward, stopping suddenly when the wind picks up, creating a mini tornado of dried leaves around her. A disembodied voice echoes in the clearing, sounding like several people speaking in unison.
“Who dares trespass our resting ground?”
Sam steps closer, clutching my arm. “What the fuck was that?”
Mrs. Redford raises her arms, closing her eyes as she does so. “It is I, Wendy Redford, one of you, sisters.”
“Who have you brought with you?”
“Allies.”
The wind changes direction, coming straight to us. I feel phantom hands all over my body, prying thoughts that try to breach through my mind. Next to me, Sam remains quiet, but shaking nonstop. The invasion seems to last forever. When the spirits finally take what they were looking for, I feel drained. I might not fear ghosts like Sam does, but shit, this was unpleasant. They’re fucking leeches. To remain tethered to this plane, they must feed off the energy of the living.
“What have you come here for?” the ghosts ask.
“I came for the treasure I hid here twenty-five years ago.”
“Those tomes do not belong to you. You can’t take them.”
Mrs. Redford drops her arms. In the next moment, a red glow appears between her hands.
“Do not test me. I’ve allowed you to remain here, but I can just as easily banish you to the Land of Lost Souls.”
Sam and I trade glances, then he asks in my mind. “Land of Lost Souls? What the hell is she talking about now?”
“Beats me. It’s the first time I’ve heard of such a place.”
“And since when can Mrs. Redford create balls of energy?”
“Are you regretting antagonizing the woman knowing now she could have fried your ass at any time?” I can’t help but tease Sam, despite the situation. He asked for it.
“Bite me.”
“How dare you threaten us after what we’ve been through?” the ghosts shriek, but I can almost sense them retreating back to the cave.
“You’ve had your revenge, now quit being difficult and let us enter.” Mrs. Redford takes a step forward.
They don’t answer, but the vines blocking the entrance whoosh inward, indicating something just passed through. The ball of energy between Mrs. Redford vanishes right before she peers over her shoulder.
“Let’s go before they change their minds. Those ghosts are finicky as hell.”
“They felt evil. Why don’t you just get rid of them?” I ask.
With a sigh, Mrs. Redford sags her shoulders forward. “Banishing poltergeists is not a walk in the park. It’s just easier to let them stay here. They aren’t harming anyone, and we’ve put several wards in place to keep people away from this cave.”
“But you just threatened to send them to the Land of Lost Souls, wherever the hell that place may be,” Sam pipes in.
“Well, I have a good poker face.”
“Wait. Do you mean you were bluffing?” Sam’s voice rises, making me elbow him in return.
“Louder so the evil ghosts can hear you.”
Sam emits a growl from deep in his throat while giving me the stink eye. Mrs. Redford ignores us both as she plunges into the cave’s darkness.
“She lied to Red all these years. Why are you surprised she tricked those ghosts?” I ask.
<
br /> “You’re right. I shouldn’t be. But damn it, Red’s grandmother is shady as fuck.”
I don’t comment because I’m beginning to agree with Sam’s opinion. In silence, we follow the witch inside the cave, noting it’s no longer completely dark. Mrs. Redford whips out a flashlight, which gives us a faint glow to follow. Our steps echo in the narrow tunnel, making everything more sinister. No surprise, Sam is glued to my side again.
“Stop being such a ninny. You’re a wolf for crying out loud.”
“I don’t think being a wolf gives us any advantage when dealing with evil spirits.”
“You were ready to storm Valerius’s territory even with a demon roaming freely, but you’re terrified of ghosts?”
“I’d rather face a demon.”
I shake my head. “You’re nuts.”
Mrs. Redford’s flashlight goes out and I’m about to ask if she’s okay, when brighter illumination reaches us. We come to the end of the tunnel, stepping into a round-shaped chamber. Mrs. Redford is busy going around the space, lighting up torches mounted on the walls. As the entire room becomes visible, several wicked apparatuses are revealed. The torture devices.
“What the hell? This is not disturbing at all,” Sam points out.
“Why are those machines still here?” I reach the one closest to me, a donkey-like apparatus, which is actually a vertical wooden board with a sharp V-wedge on top of it.
“What the hell is that?” Sam comes closer, frowning as he inspects the object.
“That’s a Spanish Donkey,” Mrs. Redford replies from the center of the chamber. “One of the most gruesome torture devices broadly used during the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Do I want to know how it worked?”
A shiver runs down my spine when the idea of how this worked comes to my mind. “No, definitely not.”
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Sam turns to Mrs. Redford. “Okay, witch. Let’s grab the diaries and get the hell out of here.”
Mrs. Redford closes her eyes, ignoring Sam’s comment. She begins to chant words I don’t recognize, but I soon feel the power of her invocation deep in my bones. A whoosh of energy emerges from the ground, and if I squint my eyes, I can almost see flecks of multicolored light dots floating in the air. The empty space in front of her begins to tremble, just as if there was a ripple in the air, and then slowly, a wooden chest materializes. Once it becomes solid, Mrs. Redford bends in front of it, then lifts the top.