The Wolfborne Saga Box Set

by Cheree Alsop

  That spiked my attention. “What is it?”

  She shook her head, her brow creased in worry. “I’m not sure. But it’s not an it, it’s a she.”

  I watched her closely. “Describe her.”

  Professor Shipley cleared his throat and said, “Zev, is everything alright?”

  Everyone turned to look at me. The girl in front of me fluttered her eyelashes. Others laughed. I felt my cheeks heat up at the sudden attention, but shoved down the feeling of embarrassment.

  “No, Professor. Sorry. Please keep teaching.”

  He turned back to the slide and whatever it was he was explaining about human biology. I had taken enough anatomy and biology during my time at the Lair to teach the class. I turned my attention back to Ceren and was careful not to speak.

  “She’s tall,” the ghost said. “She wears this black dress, but it moves like it’s made of water. She has really long arms and legs, but she’s not scary.” She paused as if considering, then said, “It’s more like she’s watching over me, not trying to intimidate me.”

  “Have you seen her a lot?” I whispered, concerned.

  A boy two rows ahead of me shot me a look. I met his gaze and held it until he sighed noisily and turned back around.

  “A few times,” Ceren admitted. She toyed with one of her sleeves when she said, “She’s at the edge of things, not really a part of them. I’ve tried to approach her, but then she’s just gone.”

  “Don’t approach her,” I said louder than I intended.

  “You should approach her,” the girl in front of me said. “Maybe that’s what she’s waiting for.”

  The girl on her right giggled.

  The bell rang. Students rose and grabbed their bags to head for their next class. I had art history next, followed by a few other classes until the end of the day found me back in Shipley’s for animal biology. I wasn’t in a huge hurry to get to art history. We were studying Bouguereau’s work and his painting ‘Dante and Virgil in Hell’ hit a little too close to home.

  “Is everything alright?”

  I looked up to see Professor Shipley cross his arms and lean against a close desk.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to interrupt class.”

  “I’m not sure if helping Brian locate the ovaries could actually be considered teaching,” the professor replied with a wry smile, “But I am hoping to do some good in here.”

  “And I really am trying to learn,” I told him. “It’s just that….” I let the thought die away without saying it.

  Shipley motioned for me to continue.

  I lowered my gaze to my hands so I wouldn’t have to see his expression when I said, “It’s hard to study charts on a wall when I’ve held the various organs in my hands and had to identify them as the warm blood from their recently beating heart coats my fingers.”

  Professor Shipley was quiet for a moment before he said, “It really puts it into perspective.”

  I traced a scar down my left arm with my eyes, remembering the manticore quill that snagged it. Hoping to lighten the mood, I forced a slight chuckle and said, “But ovaries sure beat locating the gizzard on a mandrake demon that took out four of our pack before we could slay it.”

  The professor’s eyebrows rose and he said, “I’ll bet,” as if he wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate.

  I glanced at Ceren. She was watching a little square of sunlight that had pooled in from the window. The slightly lost expression on her face goaded me forward.

  “Professor, it’s Ceren.”

  “Who?”

  “The ghost,” I reminded him.

  His eyes widened. “Is she still here?”

  I nodded.

  He gave a short whistle as he followed my gaze, but it was clear by the searching of his eyes that he didn’t see her.

  Ceren stretched her hand into the light as if hoping to touch it. Her expression fell slightly when the sunlight shone right through her hand without any sign that it was there. She glanced at me, found me watching, and gave a slight, sad smile before disappearing from view.

  “It’s strange for one to stick around so long,” he said. “I thought the witches were taking care of them.”

  “Most of them,” I told him. “But this is…different.”

  I didn’t know how to put my concern into words. What she had told me about the Ankou bothered me.

  “Is there a reason only I can see her?” I pressed. “You saw her before; why am I the only one who can now?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’ll ask Kristen when I call her at lunch. Maybe she’ll have some idea about it.” He grimaced. “Or her mother will. That woman has no problem weighing in on our conversation whether I want her to or not.” He gave a shake of his head. “Who knew it would be easier to have a living mother-in-law than a deceased one?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied.

  The bell rang and students began to drift in. Shipley walked to his laptop and switched the presentation over to his next topic. A picture of a dissected daisy with labeled parts took up the majority of the slide.

  I wandered to the door. “Thanks, professor. I’ll try harder to concentrate in here,” I told him.

  “You do that,” he replied. “I’ll be here if you need to talk.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  I didn’t see Ceren for the rest of the day. Worries about the Ankou and what the ghost seeing the Angel of Death could mean pressed against me. I looked for her in the halls and hoped she would show up during animal biology, but the room stayed maddeningly uninhabited by ghosts. The end of class found me at the professor’s desk hoping for answers.

  “How was it? Learn anything new?” Professor Shipley asked as he stacked a set of books next to his desk. He glanced at me. “Or do you learn more about ruminant digestive systems when you hunt cows in your wolf form?”

  I snorted. “We don’t hunt cows. They’re far too tame to make for a good chase.” I realized at his raised eyebrows that he had been joking, so I continued with, “Besides, if it takes them four stomachs to digest all those greens, why do so many humans try to do the same with only one?”

  The professor’s mouth opened as if he had an answer, then he shut it again and shook his head. “I’ve never thought about that,” he finally admitted.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned against his desk. “So what did Kristen say?”

  “About what?” he asked distractedly as he straightened a few desks and picked up several scraps of paper from the floor.

  The thought that I needed to get to work pressed against me. “About Ceren,” I said, trying to remain patient. “Does she think it’s weird Ceren is still here?”

  Professor Shipley straightened. “Oh yes, that. Kristen said it was strange that the ghost appeared to be haunting you. Usually, they take to haunting places instead of people.”

  “I don’t think she’s haunting me,” I began.

  He held up a hand to say, “Hanging around you, or whatever you want to call it. She thought it was unusual and wondered how long it’s been since Ceren’s death.”

  “I-I’m not sure,” I said. I had a hard time thinking of her as dead. The thought was a sobering one. I swallowed and continued with, “But she says her family still cries.”

  The professor nodded. “It’s hard to lose a child. I can’t blame them. Kristen and I didn’t get much of a chance to talk because she had an appointment for a reading, but I’ll have some more information for you Monday.”

  “I appreciate it,” I told him. “I just want to help her.”

  He nodded. “Me, too.”

  I was nearly to the door when he said, “She did mention that time in the plane the ghosts are on acts differently than here. Ceren may just be passing the years until she’s supposed to leave.”

  The thought made a pit form in my stomach. I thanked him and ducked out the door, my thoughts heavier than they had been before school.

  I d
idn’t like the thought of Ceren leaving, yet the idea of her remaining in limbo didn’t feel fair, either. What I really wanted was for her to be alive, to be real, to be able to be a part of the world she was forced to spectate. She had so much life left in her.

  The thought was humorous and a little sad. I gave a bitter shake of my head as I made my way down the sidewalk toward the mall. A ghost with life left in her. It was ironic but true. If anyone deserved to live, it was the ghost who had saved my life. If it wasn’t for her, the jakhin would have killed me. I was certain about that. She said she had done it so I would help her in return. My problem was that I had no idea where to even start. Those who knew about ghosts were baffled, and others like Virgo just looked at me like I was crazy if I brought her up. That didn’t leave me with much to work with.

  I kept my head down as I walked past the bus stop. I spotted the same mother with her little toddler standing close to the front of the line. The child’s eyes lit up when he saw me. He tugged on his mom’s sleeve, but the woman was in the middle of a conversation with an older gentleman. Neither noticed the toddler’s attempts to get their attention.

  I waved and the little boy grinned, showing two bottom teeth that were just coming in. His mother looked down at her son, then followed her gaze to me.

  “Hey, that’s the boy!” she said. “He’s the one who saved Jeffie!”

  I ducked my head and turned the corner. Footsteps hurried after me. The moment I was out of sight, I took off running. I was well past the next block and beyond before I slowed. They wouldn’t be able to catch up without missing their bus. I hoped that was enough to stop their pursuit.

  Someone might have seen something fishy in the video. It was bad enough that Janie and the others had watched it. I was worried about people like James who scoured the internet researching the supernatural. What if someone realized I had moved faster than a human could in order to save that kid? They might come looking for me. The last thing I wanted was for more trouble to show up at the Willards’ doorstep.

  I was nearly to the mall when a poster on the side of a gas station caught my eye. Other posters had been plastered beside it, signs with missing pets, services to offer, or something to sell littered the wall of the gas station from top to bottom. But it was the one near the top right that caught my eye.

  Ceren’s face looked back at me. She was smiling and holding a soda. The shirt she wore was red and white striped with a little anchor logo on the sleeve. Sunglasses held her brown hair back and the hint of a sunburn brushed her nose. She appeared to be laughing at something as the picture was taken. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and her mouth was open as if she had been in the middle of saying something.

  ‘Please help us find Ceren East.’ The sign said. ‘We are desperate to find our daughter! If you have any information at all, please call the number below.’

  The little tabs with phone numbers on them had all been taken. The picture was slightly weathered. It was easy to imagine the pelting rain from the other night hitting it as the wind blew the storm sideways. Nevertheless, Ceren’s smile continued to glow.

  I pulled the poster down and studied it.

  “What are you looking at?”

  I jerked around at the demanding voice.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  The young man who was close to my age pointed at the picture. “Why did you take that down?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “I thought I recognized her.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s my sister. She’s missing.”

  “I know she’s missing,” I replied. “I can read.”

  It was the wrong thing to say, as evidenced by his threatening step forward and the way his hands lifted.

  I wasn’t sure where to go from there. I couldn’t exactly tell him that his sister’s ghost was haunting me. I had already taken the paper, so denying it was no longer an option. I had also already stupidly admitted to recognizing her. And I couldn’t hit Ceren’s brother in the face; I had a significant hunch explaining that to Ceren later would only make her mad.

  Denying my instincts to fight left me with one route. I took off running.

  “Where are you going?” he shouted. “I have questions for you!”

  I shoved the poster in my pocket and hightailed it past the gas station. The fence that lined the back of it was about seven feet tall and chain link. I jumped off a tire and used my palms to vault me over the top. The moment my sneakers hit the ground, I took off running again.

  I could hear Ceren’s brother struggling to climb over the fence. By the time I reached the side of the mall, I doubted he had so much as rounded the next parking lot. I opened one of the employee entrances and stepped inside feeling exhilarated. Running from a pursuer was nearly as fun as chasing someone.

  “Are you supposed to be in here?”

  I met the gaze of a man in a suit. His eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down.

  “Do I know you?” he demanded.

  I shook my head. “I just got hired at Yours Threadly. You should stop by. We have some nice stuff.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need your stuff. Thanks.”

  I watched him walk away. All of the adrenaline that had filled me from the run took a dark turn. My hands closed into fists and it was all I could do to stand there and let him leave.

  He was the man I had nearly killed on my first day in the mall. I had just left the Lair, Alia had brought me with her to give me some insight into human life, and the voice in my head from years of serving my Master had been so loud I had nearly thrown away everything and taken him down.

  His life had hung by a thread and he hadn’t even been aware of it. I had come so very close to making him pay for treating me like street trash; he had no idea how very lucky he was.

  The voice was quieter now. It was still there in the back of my mind whispering about how werewolves and vampires were the strongest species, that humans were weak and should live to serve. In my Master’s voice, the words whispered about how much fun it would be to hunt him down, to finish the job I had started, to show him that he had no power over me.

  I sucked in a breath that told of expensive clothes, a car that cost more than some people’s houses, and money, the dirty kind of money that was stained by hundreds of fingers, sometimes lives, and sometimes tears. Tangled with his scent came the rain smell that told of loneliness, of enough nights spent by himself that it coated him in the ozone heaviness. It was enough to make me turn on my heels and walk in the other direction. His life was filled with the kind of emptiness he deserved.

  I pushed through a second door into the main part of the mall. Families and individuals roamed the corridors. Laughter, talking, the sounds of many footsteps, and the ever-present smell of popcorn, pretzels, and orange Julius filled the air. I breathed in and out through my mouth and avoided the crowds. By the time I reached Alia’s store, I found myself wondering if working fast food would have been an easier job.

  “Hey, Zev!” Alia greeted when I walked into the quieter atmosphere of the clothing store.

  Mitch pushed away from the counter where he had been leaning. “I was about to take your shift.”

  “You mean you came to hang out with Alia, so you were here anyway?” I guessed.

  He grinned and nodded. “You got me.”

  The smile the werewolf flashed Alia was a warm one that she returned. Though I battled a bit of jealousy at the chemistry the werewolf and human had with each other, I told myself I was getting better at accepting them being together. I paused near a pile of jeans someone had ruffled through and worked on straightening them to keep my hands busy.

  “We were just talking about finding the pack a house or something,” Alia told me. She turned the computer at the desk to show me several ads for houses in Brickwell.

  “You want the werewolves to leave?” I replied. I wished I hadn’t sounded so surprised, but the thought caught me off-guard.

  “Not leave,” Alia replied. She
glanced at Mitch. “Just, maybe, relocate. I don’t know if the werewolves should stay in the forest behind our house forever.”

  “Of course not,” I hurriedly agreed. “That was never the plan.”

  “Yeah,” Mitch said. “We could use our own space, and if the others get jobs, we should be able to pay for it without a problem.”

  The thought of Striker or Frost working somewhere like the mall was humorous. Safira could probably handle it with ease, but the other two had proven far more comfortable in the trees.

  That wasn’t what bothered me. As I watched Mitch and Alia turn their attention back to the pictures on the computer, I forced myself to pinpoint exact why I didn’t want to leave the Willard residence.

  It was the first place to feel like home to me, ever. When Ian hit me with the car in wolf form and dragged me back to his house to get patched up, I had stumbled into something I had never expected. The warm, comfortable feeling I felt when I walked through the door was one of a peace that had eluded the rest of my life. I had slept nights in that basement knowing I was safe, that some demon horde wasn’t about to attack, and that there were people upstairs who actually had my back. I was reluctant to give that away.

  But with the death of Virgo and Jemmy’s mother, two more had been added to the group of strays Mrs. Willard had allowed to crash at her house. I couldn’t blame anyone for hinting at a little space and a decrease of mouths to feed. Even though none of the Willards had ever implied any sense of hardship, feeding and clothing that many more people had to put a strain on things. It was the reason I had gotten my job at the mall. If us moving out could lessen the load a little bit, it was the least we could do.

  “What do you think of this one?” Mitch asked, carrying the laptop over. The house he showed was small but appeared to be in good condition. He scrolled down through the pictures to show two bathrooms, one with a tub, a bare kitchen, several bedrooms, and a backyard that was open to the forest that surrounding Brickwell.

  “That’s what caught my attention, too,” the werewolf told me. “Direct access to the trees. We don’t have to worry about werewolves being seen going and coming.”