Misfit Angel

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Misfit Angel Page 16

by Stephanie Foxe


  She took a deep breath and felt her lungs and chest move, yet, when she looked down, she was nothing more than a formless shadow. It was a surreal mix of real and not real. She lifted her ghostly hand and moved her fingers one by one. The shadow shifted, showing glimpses of the hand she knew was there, but couldn't quite see.

  Content she wouldn't float away, she started walking. She didn't have a particular destination in mind but felt the urge to move. This was a time to let her intuition guide her, rather than her logical mind. She had no idea why the spirit had brought her here.

  As she walked, she realized she was headed uphill. She paused and looked behind her. It looked like that way led up as well. Shaking off the dizziness that caused, she turned back around and continued. There was no point in trying to make sense of it.

  The powdery snow firmed beneath her feet as she walked, then gave way to rock. Wind tugged at her hair and whipped her skirt around her legs. She blinked and found herself at the top of a mountain on a narrow ledge. Despite knowing this was only a vision, her heart caught in her throat as she looked down from the dizzying height.

  She picked up her pace, hugging close to the cliff face. The wind blew harder and harder. Her footing slipped and she dug her fingers into the rock, but the wind only grew stronger. A sudden gust lifted her from her feet and tossed her into the air.

  A scream caught in her throat as she grasped uselessly at the air. Another current of wind caught her and she was flung upward toward the top of the mountain. Tears stung at her eyes from the force of the wind. She forced herself not to look down again.

  The wind shifted and she was thrown forward, landing in a pile of snow that went up her nose and blinded her for a moment. She pushed up to her hands and knees and shook her head to clear it, coughing slightly.

  "Oh, sorry about that," a melodic voice said, drifting past her like a breeze. "You're heavier than I expected."

  Ceri looked around but didn't see anyone. "Where are you?"

  "I'm right here," the voice replied as a breeze danced through her hair.

  She lifted her hand and trailed her fingers through the wind. It felt almost solid. "Are you...air? Or wind?"

  "I am not all of it, only my part," it replied.

  "Are you a spirit?"

  It swirled around her as though it were thinking. "That's a good word for it in your language."

  "Have you been visiting me through the owl?" she asked as she finally pushed to her feet, brushing the snow from her ethereal body.

  "Yes," it replied, sounding pleased she recognized it. "I saw you through the veil like a beacon and felt you calling to me. You need guidance."

  “Something bad is coming, isn’t it?” she asked.

  A shimmery creature with a body like a ribbon formed in front of her. Its body drooped forlornly. “Something very bad.”

  “Is it the sorcerer?”

  The spirit shook its head. “He is only the beginning.”

  “Can I stop it?” she asked, the sense of doom growing in her chest.

  The spirit drifted closer. “I don’t know. No one can tell the future. I can only warn you.”

  “What is the sorcerer trying to do?” She turned in a circle, trying to keep the spirit in sight. It floated around her, it’s body undulating like an eel.

  “It’s not about him, he’s just the beginning. A tool,” the spirit said again.

  “Who is he working for?”

  The spirit charged at her and she fell back, sinking into the snow. It covered her chest and her legs, then her face.

  She was falling again. Through darkness and absolute silence. Then, there was fire. The flames roared, reaching out across the inky blackness, but it was met with bright, searing light. The two collided with a deafening crash.

  She jerked with a gasp and found herself back in her work room, breathing like she’d just run a race. Her head was spinning and for a moment, it was hard to tell which way was up. She wiggled her feet to ground herself and forcibly slowed her breathing, letting out a slow exhale.

  As the room came back into focus, she saw Derek was sitting in front of her. He looked worried. He reached out like he wanted to touch her, but kept his hand hovering in the air. “Ceri, can you hear me?”

  She blinked a few times and unclenched her fingers. “Yes. Sorry. How long have you been sitting there?”

  He still looked skeptical that she was alright. “About ten minutes. I was about to call Amber.”

  She looked up at the clock. Only an hour had passed since she entered the vision. It had felt like longer. “It’s okay, I mean, you can tell her, but I’m okay.”

  “What were you doing?”

  She uncurled her legs and grimaced at the pins and needles feeling in her foot. Next time, she needed to just lay down. There was no way she could explain what she’d just seen. It hadn’t made any sense. “It was a vision. I know it sounds crazy, even for a witch, but being a part of this pack has changed my magic a little. I have a stronger connection to the spirit world, and one of them sent me a vision.”

  “A vision of what?” he asked, brows furrowed tightly together. He and Amber had similar eyes, but his were piercing. The way they contrasted with his dark brown hair made it hard to tear her eyes away from his face.

  “I’m not sure. It was another warning, but either the spirits don’t know, or can’t tell me, exactly what is coming.” She rubbed her fingers over her temples. Her head ached slightly, but that was to be expected with the amount of magic she was using lately. Maintaining the shield that protected Evangeline was a constant drain.

  He extended his hand and helped her to her feet. “Do you think someone’s going to try to hurt the pack?”

  “Yes and no. I’m not sure it’s about us, in particular, just that we’re going to be caught up in it. My instincts are telling me Evangeline is involved, but I’m not sure how,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll talk to Amber about it whenever she gets back. There’s not much we can do until we find this sorcerer.”

  “He’s working for Zachariah, that guy from the news, right? Maybe you can track him down and find the sorcerer that way,” he suggested.

  The vision of fire and light colliding flashed through her mind again at the mention of Zachariah. She frowned and rubbed her temples again, trying to ease the headache. “Maybe. We’ll have to be careful though. Zachariah wants Evangeline dead, too. The sorcerer must have convinced him that she was to blame for the magic disappearing.”

  “Are you okay?” Derek asked, his fingers brushing over her shoulder. She melted into the touch and he dug his thumb into a knot. “You’ve been really tense.”

  “I’m just not sleeping well,” she said, rolling her head forward to give him better access. If he came and gave her a back rub, she’d probably sleep like a baby. He dug his thumb in a little deeper and she almost let out a groan, which sent her thoughts racing in an entirely different direction. She felt her cheeks heating and pulled away, smiling at him awkwardly. “Thanks, that helped a lot.”

  “Anytime.” He was still standing close. She could smell his cologne and the shampoo he used. They locked eyes and her heart skipped a couple of beats. “Maybe you can take a break, and we could go get dinner tomorrow evening,” Derek said, holding her gaze. “And I mean a date, just to be clear.”

  She swallowed and stared back dumbly for a moment. They’d been flirting, but for some reason she hadn’t expected him to ask her out so soon.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and started to look nervous. “That looks like a no.”

  “I don’t…think it’s a good time,” Ceri said quietly. She wanted to say yes, but she had to put the pack first. If things went bad with Derek, it could hurt Amber. The pack couldn’t afford any more conflict right now, not with a literal demon in their midst.

  Derek shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I can take no for an answer,” he said carefully. “I’d still like to be friends, especially since we live together, so don’
t take it as me pushing you if I’m still friendly.”

  Ceri smiled at him. “Of course not, we can certainly be friends.”

  He turned to leave, then paused, clearing his throat. “If you change your mind though, just say the word. I won’t wait on you or anything pathetic like that, but if the timing changes…” he shrugged. “Just say something.”

  She nodded and he left. It had been a perfectly polite exchange but she felt sick to her stomach. This was the right choice, she knew it was. Dating in your friend group was tricky, and dating your alpha’s brother was just asking for a disaster. Especially in the middle of all this chaos.

  It had been the right choice. She curled her hand back into a fist and willed it to be true.

  Chapter 39

  TOMMY

  Tommy tried to focus on the problem in front of him, but Deward was staring at him intently, and it was unsettling.

  “Is there something on my face?” he asked finally.

  The troll frowned. “No.”

  “Then what ––”

  “Why are you hiding bruises? They’re fresh, and you winced when you picked up the books,” he said, suspicion and concern clear on his face. “If you are being hurt by your pack, my family would be willing to assist you. Just because you can heal quickly does not mean abuse is justified.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Tommy said, finally understanding. “I’m trying to learn how to fight. Apparently, the bite doesn’t automatically impart that knowledge.”

  The troll continued to frown. “Who is teaching you? Your alpha?”

  Tommy shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her yet. Her brother Derek is trying to help me, but I can’t use my werewolf strength on him because he’s human, and I suck, so I keep screwing up.”

  “You should not be fighting humans. You will never learn how to fight if you are constantly holding back. You will only learn how to hesitate, and therefore fail. That builds bad habits that are hard to break.” Deward’s frown deepened, as if he was unhappier with the idea of bad training than abuse.

  Tommy snorted. “Well, I don’t exactly have any other options.”

  Deward picked up his phone and started typing a message. Tommy turned back to the problem, assuming the conversation must be done. He’d learned the troll was generally very abrupt, not bothering with small talk. Their culture tended to be blunt like that. Trolls got straight to the point and didn’t tolerate bullshit.

  “I have received permission to bring you to our training grounds this afternoon,” Deward said, startling him.

  “Wait…what?” Tommy stared at Deward with his mouth hanging open.

  “I told my father of your predicament, and he has invited you to train with us,” Deward repeated, slower this time.

  He cleared his throat nervously and eyed Deward’s biceps. The fabric of his button-down shirt was straining against the bulging muscles. “Umm, how much?”

  Deward waved his hand at him. “Free. Trolls do not charge for training, ever. It is as important to us as air or water, and always freely given. Only a dishonorable coward would try to demand payment for such knowledge.”

  Tommy pursed his lips, considering. On one hand, he might get crushed if he went. On the other…Derek was trying, but Tommy wasn’t improving with his help. It was starting to feel pointless. He knew what he wanted to say: no. But he also knew what Amber would say if she was given an opportunity like this.

  Curling his hand into a fist to suppress his nerves, he nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  A rare smile crossed Deward’s face, revealing teeth sharper than humans, and making his tusks look even bigger. “I look forward to testing your courage.”

  All Tommy could think was, what the hell have I gotten myself into?

  Deward pulled his shirt off over his head and folded it neatly, laying it on the bench. Tommy stared at the rippling muscles and felt…small. He had filled out quite a lot since being bitten, but all that meant was that he was now lean with muscle, instead of just lean.

  “So, is shirtless a requirement?” he asked.

  Deward nodded. “It will likely be ripped if you don’t remove it anyhow.”

  The last thing Tommy wanted was to ruin the clothes Amber had bought for him. Reluctantly, he removed it, folding like Deward had, and setting it on the bench. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood there, practically shivering with nerves.

  “This way.” Deward led him out into a large, circular room. The walls of the building were concrete, but the roof was wooden. It arched up, creating a vaulted ceiling that made the place feel even bigger than it already was.

  It had a dirt floor with two traditional style boxing rings and three matted areas to their left. Heavy weights and what looked like a troll-sized jungle gym took up the right side of the training area.

  “This place is huge. Did your parents build it?” Tommy asked, looking around in awe.

  “The tribe built it. We use it as a community center on the weekends, and for training during the week,” Deward said, rolling his head around in a circle to loosen up. The muscles in his back flexed with every movement. “We should start with a light sparring session to see how you move.”

  Tommy scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I’m not even very good at punching yet, but I guess I can try.”

  “Just fight, and we will go from there.” Deward waved away his concerns. The dirt floor was cool under Tommy’s feet as he followed Deward to the closest mat. “No hits to the groin and no eye gouges. I will start light, then match the power of your punches, so you get to decide how hard you are hit.”

  “Uh, great,” Tommy said, cringing internally. Deward was assuming he’d be able to land a punch, which so far in his training was only a fifty-fifty shot.

  Deward shifted into a fighting stance. His right foot moved back and he brought his hands up in front of his face. The muscles in his shoulders bunched up as he began to move a little, advancing on Tommy, who quickly brought his hands up as well.

  He had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed like Deward wanted him to attack first. Swallowing down his nervousness, he threw a punch. The troll didn’t bother moving, but his fist still didn’t hit anything but air.

  “You need to hit me, not the air in front of me,” Deward said with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I promise you cannot hurt me if that is your concern.”

  Tommy grimaced. “I just…missed.”

  Deward took a step forward. “Try again.”

  He sighed and adjusted his feet. This was going to be just as humiliating as he’d feared.

  Chapter 40

  GENEVIEVE

  Genevieve was sprawled on Steven’s futon with an empty box of pizza to her left and a watered-down iced coffee on the floor to her right. She’d spent the past two hours looking at case files and making notes. Her brain was fried and all the caffeine in the world couldn’t resuscitate it right now.

  She sighed, rolling over onto her side and pulling out Greer’s card. It had been two days since she’d spoken to him and she still didn’t know much about him. Or how to deal with his request. Or if she was even Amber’s beta.

  Steven closed his textbook and leaned back in his chair with a groan. “I should have just been an accountant.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Genevieve scoffed. “You’d have hated it.”

  He sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “Yeah. I would have.”

  “Hey, in all that research we did about sponsors, did you find anything on how the sponsor decides if they’re willing to vouch for a potential alpha?” she asked, tapping Greer’s card against the palm of her hand.

  Steven shrugged. “Probably, why?”

  She hadn’t talked to Amber about it yet, and she really needed to, but it felt like her responsibility to figure this out first. “Well, this werewolf, from the old Lockhart pack, approached me when I was there trying to get help for my case. He wants Amber to s
ponsor him.”

  “Why?” Steven asked, looking somewhat alarmed.

  “I don’t know. I think he might want to shake things up a little. It seemed like he was impressed by her performance at the Trials. He said he wanted to run things differently once he became alpha.” He'd also said werewolves had become a little too humanized, which she wasn't sure she agreed with, but she kept that little tidbit to herself.

  "That is an interesting perspective." Steven got up and started digging through a box of his whole notepads. He wrote everything he learned down in them, then stacked them, organized by date, in various boxes around his room. She'd tried to talk him into putting it all in his computer, but he had insisted handwritten notes helped him think.

  He pulled out a notebook and flipped through it before stopping on one page. "Here it is. Actually, I still have the book. Keating's Politics of the Wolf." He leaned over and grabbed a thick book out of the stack next to his desk.

  Genevieve grabbed it and flipped to the table of contents. It looked like it had five chapters on alphas, with one that focused entirely on an alpha's rise to power. "This is perfect."

  "I made a few notes on how the sponsor chooses an alpha just in case Amber had needed to try to convince someone. Most of it appears to be centered around future alliances, favors, and sometimes even a payment. Though that ‘paying your sponsor’ is a new thing. It’s looked down on.”

  "This guy wouldn't want to do that. The alliance though...he'd probably be interested in something like that."

  "You'd have to be careful not to be taken advantage of when negotiating a deal," Steven said, flipping to the next page in his notebook. "He'll probably press for whatever he can get. It's a natural part of the process. A sort of dominance game."

  "Would I negotiate, or would Amber?" she asked.

 

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