The Wolfborne Saga Box Set

by Cheree Alsop

  I studied the pants beneath my hand when I replied, “Lives carry weight.” I glanced at her. “Souls. Each soul is worth something, and if it is separated from its body before its time, the taker carries it as a toll he or she must pay when they leave this world.”

  Alia leaned against the desk. “In order to get to heaven?”

  I began to nod, then shook my head. “Yes, I mean no. I’m really not sure.”

  “But this is what you were taught at the Lair?”

  I nodded. I turned away from her intense look and said, “You can ask Mitch about it.”

  “I want to hear it from you,” she insisted.

  The cotton fibers of the shirt I had been straightening snagged on the frayed skin of a scar that ran the length of my pointer finger. I rubbed my thumb along it absently as I gathered my thoughts. Though Alia had chosen Mitch over me, I was still unable to deny her whatever she asked. I seriously needed to figure out why girls had so much sway over my supposedly battle-toughed heart.

  “Do you remember what Mitch told you of the Ankou who showed up when the dark coven raised the dead?” I asked. At Alia’s nod, I continued, “The Ankou is an angel of death. Some consider her the reaper, or a gatherer of souls, but she is more of a shepherd. She protects and collects the lost souls to see them safely to wherever they go next.”

  The thought of Mrs. Stein choosing to die and go with the Ankou in order to protect the world and her children from her husband’s evil actions made emotions stir in the pit of my stomach.

  I shoved the thought away and continued in a mostly steady voice, “Most souls have a place they are meant to go. But if a soul is tainted from taking the lives of others, they might be denied entrance to the beyond. Instead, they are left to wander the earth, doing what good they can to pay off their debt to the world.”

  “So that was the ghost?” Alia asked.

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But I’m not so sure. Ever since the dead were raised and then stopped again, ghosts have been appearing.” I thought of the girl Professor Shipley and I had seen. “I don’t think they’re all paying tribute to the Ankou.”

  “What about things like poltergeist and hauntings?” Alia pressed. “Are they paying off their debt, too?”

  I shook my head. “Those are tainted souls who feel they shouldn’t have to pay off anything. They’re angry and vengeful. But they won’t get in until they compensate for those they affected while here. From what I’ve read, they’re just adding to their debt and they know it, but they can’t stop. Some souls are just dark.”

  A slight bitterness filled me at my words. Alia’s younger sister Aspen had commented more than once on how dark my soul was. Isley had mentioned it as well. I didn’t have anyone else to blame but myself. Considering the years I had spent serving my vampire Master, I was surprised I had a soul left at all. There was no telling how long I would have to wander in order to pay off my debt to the Ankou.

  As if she guessed my thoughts, Alia said, “So you and Mitch believe you won’t be granted this passage to whatever lies beyond because of what you did at the Lair.”

  I nodded without saying anything. I refused to expound on my actions. They were done and I would pay the price. I had already accepted it.

  “But that’s not fair,” Alia said. “You did what you thought you were supposed to.”

  “It was still wrong,” I replied. “And deep down, we knew it. We just didn’t know a way out.”

  Until I broke out of the Lair and changed everything.

  The ripple from my actions had led us to destroy our Master, free the werewolves, and join forces with the town’s coven to protect it against certain doom by the paranormal risen from their graves. My way out had impacted thousands of lives, not to mention the earthquake that had followed as a result of Mrs. Stein’s sacrifice. The town was still putting itself back together.

  Though the ghosts were a concern, the witches had enough on their hands repairing the damage the dark coven had done and seeing to it that those who had survived received the appropriate punishment. The restless spirits would have to take last priority. I only hoped that didn’t result in more near-fatal bus accidents.

  “Surely you made up for that when you stopped Clay,” Alia said. “And with the rest of your pack out there helping to rebuild after the earthquake, what more could this Ankou demand?”

  I had no answer for that, and I refused to spend time worrying over something I couldn’t change. My actions had been my own, and I would pay the debt.

  “Perhaps,” I said vaguely. Not wanting to get into it further with her, I switched to a topic that wasn’t my favorite but would get her off of the one at hand. “So you and Mitch are going on a date tonight?”

  “Yes,” she said with a smile that touched her cheeks with red. “Our first real date. I’m taking him to a movie.”

  “Just make sure it’s not a tearjerker,” I told her. “Mitch is a bit of a crier.”

  Alia’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  The thought of Mitch breaking down over a movie made me chuckle. “No, not really,” I told her. “But if a good action movie gets his adrenaline racing, you may find yourself with a four-legged date. Bring some dog treats.”

  Alia shook her head at that. “You’re too much, Zev,” she said. She laughed and had to shake out the shirt she had ruined folding and started over. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see the werewolf whose footsteps I had been tracking through the mall. “A werewolf working at the mall. It’s demeaning, really.”

  Mitch chuckled, but his gaze held a light of interest. “How about a werewolf saving a child from being hit by a bus? That’s pretty ridiculous if you ask me.”

  I sighed inwardly. “How did you find out?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk in the exact place Alia had been earlier. It bugged me that they did so much the same. As the oldest of the werewolves who had left the Lair, he deserved the respect he had earned. At the same time, I couldn’t help entertaining the want to challenge him to a good old-fashioned duel like we used to do in the Lair. He looked all too comfortable with humans; it would feel nice to remind him where he came from.

  “James showed me a video. It’s apparently all over town. How do you feel being the hero?” He shot me a smile as if he guessed the answer to his question.

  The urge to wipe his smile off his face made me clench my hands into fists. He glanced at them and his eyebrows lifted in question. I caught the look in his eyes before his usual calm wiped the expression from his face. He would welcome a brawl. The thought surprised me. Perhaps he wanted a fight as badly as I did.

  We had spent our entire lives surviving from battle to battle. Besides the few ghosts wandering around, it had been days without any threat to Brickwell or its neighboring larger city of Township. Was it possible I wasn’t the only one who missed the fray? I made a mental note to follow up on that later.

  “I’m not a hero,” I replied shortly. “I just couldn’t stand by and watch him get run over.”

  “Said like a hero,” Mitch pointed out.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t push it.”

  Alia’s phone beeped. “Time to close up,” she announced.

  I reached for the pile of clothes to finish, but Mitch beat me to them.

  “Go ahead,” he told me. “I’ll help close.”

  I looked from him to Alia. “You sure?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “We’ve got this.”

  I didn’t need to be told a second time. I left through the back door of the store, but not before the sound of kissing reached my ears. I shook my head and stepped into the alley. That was something I didn’t need to hear.

  The setting sun turned the sky into a million shades of pink edged in gold. The few clouds were bathed in rose and silver, and the town itself felt caught holding its breath as dusk eased into the cooler embrace of the night.


  I usually rode the bus back to Brickwell, but for some reason the thought of riding one didn’t appeal to me. I walked through the alleys I was beginning to know quite well and paused on the edge of Township where a grove of trees sheltered me from view of the closest houses. I dug up the bag that had been shallowly buried beneath the biggest tree. Dropping my shoes inside, I pulled off my shirt and pants and added them as well.

  Quickly, for propriety’s sake, I changed to wolf form. We phased so often at the Lair that being naked didn’t bother me. Yet I knew if someone wandering the woods came upon an unclothed man in the middle of the trees, it would cause a bit of chaos. My goal was to avoid stirring up trouble as much as possible, and I hadn’t proven very good at that.

  I nosed the bag back into the hole and buried it. There was something satisfying about using my paws to push dirt into the hole. The rich scent of the black loam combined with the earthy scent of the worms and beetles that called it home. It made me feel like a pup again to snuffle through the clumps in the search of a satisfying morsel. But worms and grubs didn’t appeal to me the way they had when I was younger and desperate for sustenance, and I left the thicket after ensuring that the bag was completely buried.

  I stretched my muscles and broke into a run. Wolves were known for the mile-eating lope that they could sustain for hours, and werewolves even more so. Bigger than normal wolves because our mass stayed the same in either form, we could run both faster and longer than our lupine cousins. I put it to good use on my return.

  My goal had been to go back to the Willards, but the thought that James had already shown Mitch and who knew who else the video, I altered my path a bit. Pausing in a grove near the far end of Brickwell, I pulled on a set of clothes I had buried in a bag there. I reluctantly slipped on the worn sneakers to avoid questions and walked into town.

  My footsteps slowed when I reached the bookstore. The Inking Post was looking a bit worn. Leaves and debris Virgo had always swept away cluttered the sidewalk below the stained glass window and door. The pane of glass Professor Shipley had broken when he stole a book of magic from the store was still covered in cardboard, but the top edge had come loose and hung partially open. I smoothed it back before opening the door.

  “Virgo?” I called out.

  By the smell, the warlock was inside somewhere, but the lights were out and only a flicker showed near the back.

  “Who’s there?”

  The warlock’s voice sounded small amid the shelves. I steeled myself and walked around the corner.

  The books that were usually stacked with such care lay in droves on a table I didn’t remember being there before. Bookmarks, pieces of paper, straw wrappers, and even a leaf or two earmarked pages from a variety of books. I couldn’t tell what they had in common just by glancing at them. Topics ranging from ‘Volcanoes of Hawaii’ to ‘The Psychic Psyche’, ‘Dogs and their Masters’, and ‘Interesting Facts about Leaves’ made up the pile closest to me.

  Wrappers from candy bars, fast food, and a vast array of chip bags had taken over the smell of paper and ink. Other books spilled off of chairs and were stacked in two corners high enough that I was afraid they would fall over and bury the form sitting on the only chair left uncovered.

  “Virgo?”

  The warlock lifted his cellphone and shined the light in my face. I squinted until he lowered it.

  “Zev,” he said quietly before he returned to the book he held.

  My heart ached at the sight of him. The warlock’s long blond hair that was usually pulled back in a ponytail hung in limp strands over his shoulders. Scruff covered his usually clean-shaven face. A smear of ink stained his pale cheek and matched the dark mess that covered his fingers. A quill pen, inkwell, and well-marked paper showed the source.

  “I thought quills were out of style,” I said in an attempt at humor.

  Virgo glanced at his pen for a moment, then up at me. “I ran out of regular pens and nobody bought this.” He held out an inky hand. “I had a bit of a struggle figuring it out, but it’ll do.”

  I looked at the books. “Do for what?”

  “Research,” he said without looking at me again.

  I watched him closely. “Research for what?”

  My friend’s face was paler than usual. The lenses of his glasses were smeared and more of the ink marked the bridge of his nose. Bags under his eyes and the sunken hollow of his cheeks made him look nothing like the warlock I had known a week ago. The loss of his mother on top of that of his father had taken its toll.

  “I need to know why he did it.”

  I didn’t reply because I didn’t have to. His father’s betrayal of their coven to embrace the dark arts had come as a complete shock to Virgo’s family. When his mother died to send the dead Clay had commanded back to their well-deserved rest, Virgo’s father had gone mad and nearly taken Virgo with him. It was only through luck and Isley’s help that I was able to drag Virgo away from the fire and send his father into it instead.

  Mrs. Willard had opened her home to both Virgo and his sister Jemmy, but after a few days, Jemmy told us she needed space and time to find herself again. She had closed her antiques store and moved in with her aunt in a neighboring city. Even though she had begged her brother to follow, Virgo had refused on the basis that he didn’t want to leave his store. I had found Virgo sleeping in his truck on two occasions, and at the Inking Post the rest of them.

  “He didn’t do it on his own, I’m sure of that,” Virgo muttered.

  I picked up one of the books closest to me and flipped to the bookmark. The chapter heading ‘A Study of Contrast’ was sub headed with ‘How Darkness Cannot Survive Within Light.’

  “Are you done with that?”

  I looked up to find Virgo watching me. I put the candy bar wrapper bookmark back in place and returned the book to its spot.

  “Virgo, you need a break.”

  He shook his head. “Not until I find it. There has to be a link here somewhere.”

  I replied with the question I already knew the answer to. “A link to why your dad did what he did?”

  He nodded, his gaze already focused again on the book in his hand. I tipped my head to read the title along the spine.

  “‘The Warlock Conundrum’ by Gregory Wolfsbane.” I grimaced. “I don’t like that name.”

  Virgo gave half of a humorless smile without looking up at me. “You wouldn’t. But it’s interesting.” He tapped a place on the page he was reading. “Gregory’s written this as fiction, but he sure knows a lot about the paranormal.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat and then read aloud, “‘The warlock felt the power of the ancient oak through his fingertips. It reverberated along his arm and through his shoulder until his heartbeat matched the pulsing rhythm. Life flowed from the tree’s core and into the warlock, restoring him.’” He looked up at me. “You hear that? The life of the tree restored him. My mom used to talk about that, and here it is. How else would he know?”

  “Do you mean he’s a warlock?”

  “I don’t think so,” Virgo replied. He pointed to another pile of books. “He writes about werewolves, vampires, demons, and the rest with the same knowledge. I think he’s a paranormal scholar. I’m hoping my answer is somewhere within these pages.”

  I had never had parents, but it was easy listening to Virgo to understand what an impact parents had on a person. He was lost, sad, and wandering. The worst part was that I had no idea how to help him. I picked up a book.

  “Want me to research with you?”

  The warlock’s gaze lifted from his book and he gave me a true smile this time. “I thought you didn’t like to read.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t, but if it’ll help, count me in.”

  A scream made me turn. It was followed by another one.

  “What was that?” Virgo asked, rising.

  “No idea,” I replied. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

  Chapter
Three

  We ran to the door. I threw it open to see a family of five standing in the road with terrified expressions on their faces.

  “What’s going on?” Virgo asked.

  The dad pointed toward the house a few doors down from Virgo’s store. “Something’s in there.”

  “In your house?” Virgo said as he and I joined them in the street

  Every member of the family nodded. Their wide-eyed expressions and pale faces made my stomach tighten.

  I eyed the open door of the house and tested the air by habit for any strange smells. A slight, sour odor wafted from the family. The familiarity of it whispered at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t remember where I had smelled it before.

  “Let’s go take a look,” I told Virgo.

  “You shouldn’t,” the dad of the family said. “You’re just kids. It might hurt you.”

  His wife nodded with tears in her eyes. “It killed our dog.”

  The daughter she held in a protective embrace burst into tears. Both the older boy and girl who stood with them had tear tracks on their faces. Whatever had happened had been traumatic.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Virgo said. He threw me a grin. “We live for this sort of thing.”

  I followed him up the front steps and couldn’t help repeating, “We live for this sort of thing?”

  “It sounded heroic,” Virgo replied over his shoulder. “Besides, we do, right?”

  I had to admit that putting ourselves in danger to protect humans was something we did on what was becoming a regular basis. No reason to stop now.

  Our steps slowed as we approached the door. The sour odor wafted strong enough that even Virgo covered his nose. The smell of blood colored the air as well.

  “What is that?” the warlock asked.

  “I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” I replied.

  A crash was followed by the sound of sliding footsteps. The chill-inducing skritch of nails on glass made my nightmare during Professor Shipley’s class come rushing back. My heart started to pound. I put a hand on Virgo’s shoulder.