Spell Linked (Ravencrest Academy Book 2)

by Theresa Kay

  “I think so?” I shrug. I certainly hope so. “What the hell did he give me?”

  “A potion,” says Tristan. “Basically, he activated the champagne, turning it into what everyone calls fae wine. It’s like a party potion.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Most alcoholic beverages can be considered potions, something about the fermentation process.” He shuffles his feet.

  “Well, I’ll know better next time,” I say.

  “I’d hope so.” He releases a slow breath. “Are you ready to go back to campus now? I think this night needs to be over.”

  I wince. “I need to go talk to Connor before we go back.”

  “Why?” He draws out the single word as his eyes narrow.

  “There are two shifters here disguised as waiters, and I overheard them talking in the library. They mentioned a mission to check out security and something about targets. They’re planning something,” I reply.

  “Planning something? Like what?” The muscles in his jaw tense.

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “But the fact that they are here at all is something Connor needs to know about.” I blow out a loud breath and let my shoulders slump. The events of the night are finally catching up to me, leaving me exhausted and confused and simply done with everything. “I don’t want to debate this. Can you please just take me home?”

  “Back to campus?”

  “No. Home. I want my family,” I say, my voice breaking. “I really do need to talk to Connor about the shifters, and we’re so close anyway.”

  His face softens, and he brushes a stray tear away from my cheek. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea . . .”

  “Please.” The word is a whispered plea, barely audible. But he hears it.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and leads me from the room. “But if I end up murdered, it will be all your fault.”

  Tristan is silent as he drives, his attention focused on the road in front of him. His face is pale, the scattering of freckles across his nose standing out against the pallor, and I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t gripping the steering wheel so tightly his hands would be shaking.

  I want to reach over and take his hand, but I don’t want to startle him, so I settle for words. “I know you’re uncomfortable around shifters, but nothing’s going to happen to you at Connor’s.”

  He gives me a weak smile and nods, but I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me.

  And back to silence we go . . .

  Almost twenty minutes later, I direct Tristan to turn onto a narrow gravel road. He drives slowly, either unfamiliar with gravel roads in general or in an effort to not send any rocks pinging around to damage Adrian’s car. Or maybe trying to make the drive last as long as possible.

  On the left, we pass the driveway to my parents’ house, and I press my hand to the window. I can’t see the house from the road, but I know it’s up there, dark and empty, and the thought is enough to bring a lump to my throat. I miss them so much.

  The next driveway on the right is Connor’s. I point out the turn, and Tristan takes a deep breath as he slowly drives around the bend and up to the large farmhouse. The entire place is brightly lit, both inside and out, and the edges of the yard and the driveway are filled with cars. What are all these people doing here? Did Connor call a pack meeting or something?

  If it’s possible, Tristan’s face loses more color as he takes in all the cars. And even more color fades away when two shifters step onto the wraparound porch at the sound of our car pulling up.

  Tristan puts the gear shift in park and sits there, staring blankly at the windshield, no emotion on his face—but oh so much in the lines of his shoulders and hands. Tension, fear, and everything in between. The one emotion that’s completely absent is anger. I’d always thought he was angry at shifters because of what happened to his sister, but he’s terrified of them.

  Still, I can’t leave him out here alone, not when I don’t know why all these other shifters are here.

  “You need to come in with me,” I say softly. “You have nothing to fear from Connor. He’s my family.”

  Tristan’s only response is a flare of his nostrils and a jerk of his head before he opens the driver’s side door and steps out. I follow suit, moving to walk beside him as we approach the house. As we draw closer to the porch, a growl rumbles up from one of the shifters standing there.

  “What are you doing on pack lands, witches?” The woman is unfamiliar to me, and her defensiveness is understandable. She wouldn’t recognize me, and both Tristan and I no doubt reek of magic.

  I let my arms hang loose at my sides, body relaxed, eyes looking at her but not directly meeting her gaze. “I’m Selene. Connor is my uncle.”

  The guy standing next to the woman stares at us, his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he sniffs at the magic in the air. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “Leave her be,” rumbles a voice from inside the house. A very broad man with dark skin joins the other two on the porch. He spends a couple seconds glowering at me before breaking into a large grin. “Welcome home, little bit.”

  Darren is Connor’s third. If my mom is the brains as beta, Darren is the brawn. Yet, the big man is as happy and cheerful a person as I’ve ever seen—unless you get on his bad side, something I’ve never done. He ambles off the porch and sweeps me into his arms, hugging tightly.

  I thump on his back. “I’d still like to breathe here, Darren.”

  He chuckles and releases me before turning his gaze on Tristan. “I understand why you might be here, but who’s this you brought with you?”

  Tristan’s whole body is absolutely rigid, his face frozen in what I think he believes is his typical bland smile but is really more of a grimace.

  I take a step backward and place a hand on his arm. “This is Tristan. He’s . . . a friend from school.”

  My turf or not, my uncle’s house or not, I’m not going to risk throwing around Tristan’s last name. It doesn’t matter that Darren is my friend or at least an acquaintance, the St. James name would not go over well here.

  Darren holds a hand out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Tristan’s lips contort further, and I almost wince at the expression. He holds a hand out. “Sir.”

  Darren lets out a full out belly laugh. “I’m no sir, kid. You can call me Darren.”

  Tristan manages a nod, and his expression softens the slightest bit.

  Until the woman on the porch speaks up again. “What the hell’s going on here? We weren’t told this region treats with witches.”

  Interesting. The shifters on the porch aren’t from Connor’s region. So, who are they and where are they from? And why are they here? Connor doesn’t typically invite outside shifters into his territory without a damn good reason.

  Darren turns to them, his arms crossing over his chest as he steps in front of me and Tristan. “Back off. I know you’ve heard the rumors going around about Connor’s sister kidnapping a witch. This here is the so-called victim. She’s on our side and we’re on hers, not the side of the witches.” He looks over his shoulder and grins at me. “Always.”

  “No matter what my blood says, Connor is my uncle,” I say. “And the Blue Ridge beta is my mom.”

  The woman squints at me, and her nose twitches. She tilts her head toward Tristan. “And the other one?”

  “He’s with me. Under my protection.” I take Tristan’s hand in my own. If the action surprises him, he doesn’t show it.

  But it certainly surprises Darren. His brows rise, and he runs an assessing gaze over Tristan.

  I can’t help the way my cheeks heat. I know what’s going through Darren’s head, because I know exactly what I’ve implied right now. Thank goodness Tristan doesn’t because I sort of claimed him as something one step below a fiancée in front of these shifters.

  “I need to see Connor,” I say, my attention solely on Darren. “It’s important.”

  Darren rubs at the back
of his neck and shuffles his feet. “He’s in the middle of something right now.” A long pause. “But I can take you inside.”

  I nod and move to follow Darren, tightening my fingers around Tristan’s as he tries to pull his hand away.

  Inside, the house is filled with shifters. Not filled in the way the party at my grandparents’ was, but there are way more people here than normal, and the air isn't a jovial one. The shifters are on edge, their muscles tensed as if waiting to pounce, and they get even more so as their noses twitch against the scent of mine and Tristan’s magic.

  Tristan himself is practically vibrating with tension, and I want to tell him to relax since the shifters will sense that too. More tension is never a good thing when shifters are involved. But mentioning it will only bring more attention to it.

  Some of the shifters appear to be local, and I nod greetings at the few I know personally, but there are at least ten faces I don’t recognize, most of them with alpha level power. What have we walked into?

  Darren leads us to Connor’s office then taps a knuckle against the door.

  “Yes?” says Connor from inside.

  “Selene’s here,” says Darren. “Says she needs to talk to you.”

  A second later, the door flies open and Connor stands there, his face stormy. “What are you thinking?”

  His blatant—and uncalled for—anger calls up mine. “I’m thinking there’s something big going on that you aren’t telling me about and—”

  “You can’t be here,” he says, his voice lower with a menacing edge.

  “But I am and—”

  “Go. Back. To. School.” The words are laced with an alpha’s command, but I’m not a shifter, and I’m not inclined to listen right now.

  I step forward, glaring up at my uncle. “If you wanted that to work on me, you should have given me the Bite when I asked for it.”

  Neither one of us miss the sharp inhalation from the boy at my side. And I don’t miss the way he drops my hand like it just burned him.

  Connor’s eyes narrow in on Tristan, studying his face intently. My uncle goes rigid and he turns an irate gaze on me. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you’re smarter than that.”

  I remain silent.

  Connor curls his hands into fists at his side. “Tell me you weren’t stupid enough to bring that boy here.”

  Darren’s gaze goes to Tristan, and the big man’s brow furrows as he thinks over what his alpha just said.

  “The St. James kid?” Darren’s voice is laced with disappointment.

  A low growl rumbles up from Connor’s chest, and his voice goes quiet with rage. “The St. James family is—”

  I step in front of Tristan and shove Connor in the chest with both hands. “Is his family. Not him. He’s risked his life for me, and you will not disrespect him.”

  Connor and I hold each other’s gazes for a long while, both waiting to see if the other backs down.

  Finally, Connor takes a deep breath. “You’re right.” He glances at Darren. “I need to speak with my niece. Take the boy . . . somewhere and watch over him. If anyone asks, he’s a friend of Selene’s and under my protection.”

  “Of course,” replies Darren. “Come on, Blondie, we’ll go hang out with the little ones.”

  Tristan swallows and, with visible effort, turns the corners of his lips into a pleasantly bland smile. His gaze goes to me, his eyes begging me for reassurance. Or maybe just begging me to not make him go off alone with Darren.

  I brush a hand down Tristan’s arm. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  He nods and gestures for Darren to lead the way. The two of them disappear down the hallway, and I turn my attention back to Connor.

  He steps to the side and gestures for me to enter his office before walking behind his desk to settle in the chair. “What are you doing here, Selene?”

  I blink back the burn in my eyes. He’s looking at me like I’m an unwelcome stranger, and it hurts. “I had no idea you had something going on tonight or I would have waited.”

  He sighs. “The ‘something’ going on tonight is a meeting with every regional alpha in the state, a meeting I called. Do you have any idea the position you’ve put me in by coming here?”

  I open my mouth, unsure what to say. This wasn’t the welcome I expected. At all.

  “Violent incidents between witches and shifters have increased at least fifty percent in the past two months. I’m supposed to be working with the other alphas on a solution, but in light of what happened at the St. James estate a few weeks ago, I’m not sure there’s a solution to be found.” He shakes his head. “I heard you were there that night.”

  “Bernadette kidnapped my roommate. I only—”

  “Took off without thinking and ended up leading one of the rogue shifters to her target?”

  “Her target? You knew about Penny?”

  “No. Not until afterward,” he says. “But because of your actions—inadvertent as they may have been—the Coven Council is coming down harder on us than ever before. The St. James woman’s legislation now has almost all the support it needs to remove all protections from pack lands, leaving many shifters vulnerable to the whims of witches. Not only that, but the Coven Council also wants to strip all the alphas of control. And all of this on top of the incident last month where you injured a shifter on behalf of a witch and—”

  “You mean the guy that tried to kill me? That one?”

  Connor takes a deep breath. “I know what it looked like that evening. It—”

  “What it looked like? Are you kidding me?” I leap to my feet. “I was there. They would have killed Tristan if I hadn’t stepped in.”

  “They would have scared him. That’s all.” He clasps his hands and places them on top of his desk. “You escalated the situation unnecessarily.”

  My brain is blank. My tongue stuck. What the hell am I hearing right now? Connor doesn’t think . . . No. He couldn’t.

  “Are you suggesting that what happened was my fault?”

  “No,” he says quickly. A pause, then a wince. “I don’t know. Your actions have made things difficult for me.”

  “Difficult for you.” I shake my head. “Difficult for you. Do you even know what I’ve been dealing with? Do you even care?”

  I pace to the other side of the room, my head spinning. My entire life I’ve thought Connor has all the answers. I’ve thought him wise and all-knowing, and all this time he’s just . . .

  “Do you already know about the shifters at the Andras’ estate tonight?” The question pops from my mouth before I have much of a chance to think about it.

  “What shifters?”

  “I was at a party. At the Andras’ house. Checking out the grandparents you didn’t bother to tell me were still alive and lived not too far from here.”

  His jaw tenses, but he says nothing.

  “I overheard a couple shifters talking about targets and gathering information about security, like they were casing the place.” I study his face closely, watching for a reaction. “I knew one of them. Sort of. His name’s Zeke, and he was at the party Reid took me to, and Reid mentioned he had met Zeke once before. Zeke’s also an alpha level shifter, so he’d have to be reporting to another alpha. Is that one of the alphas here tonight?” I pause. “Is it you?”

  “No,” he says firmly. The fact that he gives no further answer tells me what I need to know.

  “But you did know about him or at least know of him, right? He’s been in your territory for a couple months now. You had to have known he was around and . . .” I inhale sharply. “You know, don’t you? That he’s part of the rogue shifter group.”

  Connor presses his lips together then glances at me, holding my gaze. “What would you have me do about it?”

  I gape at him. I hate thinking my uncle was aware of any of this, but for him to completely ignore his responsibilities? “You’re the regional alpha. Can’t you turn him in to OSA or something?”

  “It’s not tha
t simple. Handing a shifter over to OSA who, as far as you know, hasn’t even done anything besides be in my territory without my permission would open the door to all sorts of other problems. If I were to turn him over to OSA, what precedent would that set? Maybe OSA would decide the legislation the Coven Council is pushing wouldn’t be that big of a deal to us. If we don’t exercise the rights we have, then we will lose them.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t betray my oath as alpha to uphold shifter law and protect our lands.”

  Anger flares in my stomach. “Do you know why Bernadette St. James hates shifters so much? Because I do.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue, “Have you ever heard the name Cecily St. James?”

  Connor’s brows pull together, and I almost let loose a sigh of relief at the obvious confusion on his face. At least not everything I thought about him was a lie. He’d never have anything to do with something like that.

  “She was Tristan’s older sister, and she was kidnapped by a group of shifters when she was on a picnic with her six-year-old brother. They left Tristan wandering in the woods by himself.” I twist my hands together. “I thought . . . I thought . . . there was no way that story could be true, but after everything you’ve told me tonight . . . I don’t know anymore. The kidnapper sent her fingers back, and because the shifters were under the protection of pack lands, the alpha refused to let OSA get involved.” I look up, meeting Connor’s gaze with harsh eyes. “If that alpha had been more concerned with justice than the sanctity of pack lands, probably none of this would be happening. I understand your position, but you need to be better than that alpha. People are dying, and it’s only going to get worse if nobody does anything.”

  He closes his eyes and releases a breath before holding my gaze with his. “I can’t make you any promises, and I can only speak for the Blue Ridge region, but I will do what I can to mitigate the problem.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I can ask.” I stare down at my hands then straighten in my chair as an idea takes shape in my head. “I know a big portion of the problem is how tense relations are between shifters and witches. What if there was someone who could act as an intermediary?”