Ties That Bind: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Spire Chronicles Book 2)

by Ashley Meira

  Seriously, he was too cute. And I meant that in a general way, not a cougar way. The scowl Alex had made it clear he disagreed.

  “But for now,” the boy continued, “you’ll have to come with me.”

  “The hell she will.” Alex pulled me back to him. “I’m taking you home.”

  “Chill out, Romeo,” said Tamlin. “It’s just a chat.”

  “Like it was just ‘torture’?” Alex shot back.

  “I explained that.”

  “You explained nothing.” Alex began to steer me back to the main road. “You just expect us to take you at your word.”

  “The tribe leader wants your help, Morgan,” said Tamlin. “You can bring your guard dog, too, if you want.”

  I wanted to comment on a werewolf making a dog joke, but I was too worried about how Alex would react to the nickname. To his credit, he didn’t flip out like I expected. Instead, he stopped in his tracks and took in a deep breath. He didn’t say anything, just nodded at Tamlin, his jaw back in full Nutcracker mode. My arm felt cold when he let go in favor of following the werewolf. I trailed after them, not looking forward to trekking through the woods again.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “The shaman,” Tamlin called over his shoulder.

  “I was actually asking Alex.” Awkward.

  Tamlin ran a hand through his hair. “Awkward.”

  “You two could be twins,” Alex mumbled. “As for how I found you, the guard called me. Well, he called your father. When you ran off earlier, Sir Wallace sent the guards out to find you. The guard recognized the photo.”

  “Sullivan has photos of me?” My brows drew together. “Current photos?”

  “No, I do.”

  “Oh.” Doubly awkward.

  “Doubly awkward,” Tamlin whispered loudly. Wow, that is really uncanny.

  “What were you thinking, anyway?” said Alex. “You just ran off. Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

  “We?” I said.

  I summoned up some ghost lights to help me see. The boys may have been happy feeling like they were walking through the Abyss, but I wasn’t dealing with that shit. Though I guess it wasn’t that dark for Tamlin – wolfy senses and all.

  “Your father cares about you more than you think,” Alex said. A ghost light fluttered up to his face and he wrinkled his nose as it bounced off him. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

  “I’m not doing it. Maybe they just like you because they’re ghost lights,” I teased, hoping his mood would lighten up a bit.

  “Mhm,” he said dryly. He didn’t seem more upset, so I decided to call it a draw.

  “Hey, Tamlin,” I called. “No offense, but what exactly is our guarantee that you won’t kill us?”

  “Well, I did promise you wouldn’t be hurt.”

  “Not really,” I said. “You just said I wouldn’t be eaten.”

  “Oh. Oops.” Tamlin ran a hand through his hair again in what I assumed was a nervous habit. “Well, the tribe leader and shaman both pass on their sworn oath that no harm will come to you, and that you will be allowed to leave unharmed no matter what your decision.” He turned to give me a cheeky smile. “I give you my word, too, if that helps.”

  I wanted to pinch his cheeks, that’s how precious he was. Alex did not appear to be as charmed by the young Garou as I was, but he hadn’t tried to kill him yet. That was something. I’m pretty sure he’s thought of at least six ways to do it, though. How many ways are there to kill a werewolf? Would it be inappropriate to ask? Probably.

  Tamlin moved confidently through the woods, not making a sound. His movements were graceful, as if he was part of the woods themselves. He practically glided through the underbrush like it was water. There was a small smile on his face the entire time, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was actually enjoying himself or if that was just his default expression. He seemed like an easy-going kind of guy, so maybe it was the latter.

  Now that there wasn’t a mutilated body for me to examine, I could appreciate the forest at night. The air was fresher during the witching hour and the scent of pine got stronger the farther we traveled. I took a deep breath in to fully appreciate the smell.

  I wasn’t sure where he was leading us, though I assumed it would be back to the boundary line we discovered earlier. It was hard to believe that it had been twenty-four hours since we were last out here; it felt more like years. The familiar hum of magic hit me, and I knelt down to touch the ground again.

  “Boundary spell,” said Tamlin. “The shaman uses it to prevent unwanted guests from stumbling upon us, though I guess you know that already.”

  I nodded. “Garou magic, right?”

  “The only kind we use. Well, the only kind magic users in our tribe use.”

  “You can’t use magic?” I asked.

  Tamlin shook his head. “Nah. Disappointed my mom a little, but she said it wasn’t a big surprise considering who my dad is.”

  “Your father isn’t magical?” I asked, looking back at Alex.

  He didn’t seem to be interested in our conversation at all. Instead, he was boring holes in the ground to the point where I was worried he’d set the leaves on fire. Hearing your best friend may be behind skinning and gutting a bunch of seemingly innocent people would hurt anyone. I wanted to comfort him, to help, but he seemed to shrink away whenever I made the slightest move to get close.

  “Nope,” said Tamlin. “It wouldn’t have mattered if he was Garou, but whatever. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to give me control of fire while we live in a forest.”

  I peered at him. So, this is what I would be like as a guy. A werewolf guy. With nice hair. A half-breed, though? First a reaper and now him; I’m meeting all sorts of interesting people tonight.

  “So, does the spell differentiate by species or…?”

  “The shaman knows if the person passing through is human or Garou – or anything, really. The spell is set to only allow specific people entry. Anyone else just gets sent around in circles.”

  That was pretty damn handy. It would’ve been great to have when Lily and I were kids making treehouses, that was for sure.

  We continued our journey in peace. I basked in the magic emanating from the earth, letting it flow through me like a beautifully written piece of music playing in my ears. The ebb and flow was invigorating. It wasn’t until Tamlin waved a hand in my face that I realized I had stopped walking.

  “Ley line?” he asked.

  “Um, yeah.” I dropped my eyes, embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry about it. Happens to all the magic users here. Same for casters in the Levin tribe. Their camp is on the opposite side of the ley line’s heart.”

  “I knew it,” I said with a grin. “So, what’s the site of the heart like?”

  Tamlin shrugged. “Dunno. Only the shamans are allowed there.”

  A soft orange glow I recognized as fire emanated from the horizon, and the soft mumblings of people drifted around from farther ahead. Tamlin turned around and held a hand out toward the lights.

  “We’re here.”

  11

  The Garou settlement was surprising for a town in the middle of the woods. It was big and…civilized. There were log cabins laid out in a circular pattern around the giant bonfire in the middle of the town. The cabins on the right appeared to be for commercial use, with various knickknacks on display, and a few people cleaning up and stacking chairs despite the late hour. The cabins on the left were dark, with only one or two windows lit up. Residential homes. The crackling of the bonfire and the rustling of a broom across a wooden floor were the only sounds outside of our footsteps.

  Despite the suspicious looks we received, the village looked like a pleasant place to live; simple but satisfying. My chest ached at the thought of how much they’ve suffered lately. How many of those cabins were missing people? How many children like Alice’s were missing their parents? What was happening with Alice’s son, anyway? His father w
as in jail and his mother was gone – who was taking caring of him?

  How about the Protean village? Was it the same? How had they felt upon discovering the first mutilated body? Had it been someone like Alice – a wife, a mother? All these thoughts weighed me down like a pair of thousand ton fists pulling at my insides.

  Tamlin led us past the buildings and around the bonfire to a larger home at the end of the path, almost out of range of the flame’s light. He held the door open for us and we stepped inside. Well, I stepped inside. Alex hovered around the doorway looking like he’d rather chew his arm off.

  The young Garou looked between us awkwardly. “This would probably be a bad time to ask you to hand over your weapons.”

  Alex’s eyes widened and he turned to look at Tamlin as if he’d grown a second head. “Are you insane?”

  “Depends on who you ask,” he said. “…Maybe you shouldn’t meet my mother. Look, don’t worry, you’ve got Morgan’s magic to–”

  “Protect against a herd of werewolves that are resistant to magic?” he asked.

  “We’re actually a ‘pack.’ And I already promised you weren’t going to be hurt.” Tamlin leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. “Either give up your weapons or wait outside.”

  With a look that promised a painful disemboweling, Alex removed his sword and shoved it at Tamlin. There was a small snap as he unholstered his gun and handed that over, too. Satisfied, Tamlin led us to a small but cozily decorated sitting room where a gruff-looking man was waiting.

  The man was huge; he seemed to be more muscle than anything. Even sitting down, I could tell he was way over six feet. He was maybe forty years of age and rather handsome in a Hugh Jackman sort of way – which made the fact that he was a werewolf hilariously ironic. He shared Tamlin’s eyes, both in shape and color, though small wrinkles formed around his eyes when he narrowed them at us. Tamlin said his father wasn’t a werewolf, maybe this man was a cousin or an uncle?

  “I’ll leave you three alone,” Tamlin said with a polite bow.

  “Stay, Tamlin.” The older man patted the spot next to him before turning to address us. His voice was deep and gruff, reminding me of hot chocolate and a warm fire. “I am Alistair, alpha of the Winter pack.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” I said, bowing like Tamlin while keeping a wary eye on Alex. “I’m Morgan Maxwell.”

  “Alex Campbell, sir,” he said politely, cowed by Alistair as much as I had been.

  Alistair had a powerful, authoritative presence, strong enough to mute even Alex’s rage. It wasn’t surprising; an alpha led over an entire pack of terrifyingly powerful creatures with control issues. He wouldn’t have lasted very long if he couldn’t command respect. I didn’t keep up with the politics of Dovesport, but the status of the tribes near Order cities was discussed when the family heads met, and I don’t recall hearing about any changes in leadership. That meant Alistair had been the Winter’s alpha for at least eighteen years. That wasn’t very long in werewolf years, but it was still an accomplishment.

  “Alistair will do.” He gestured for us to sit on the loveseat across from him. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “You’re accusing the hunters of murder,” Alex, ironically, accused.

  Alistair didn’t even bat an eye at the other man’s irritation. “You are upset. That is understandable, but you will show me respect in my own home, boy.” His voice deepened into a low growl. “My people and the people of those I call friend are being slaughtered and harvested for parts. My concern is not the species or alliance of those who did it – only that they pay. I expect you would feel nothing less were it your people.”

  “And the torture?” Alex asked through a locked jaw.

  “We needed answers as to their motivations and organization. However, I will not do you the dishonor of lying and saying it was not an enjoyable recompense,” said Alistair, his voice dropping into a dangerous bass once more. “Do you think the hunters who did this made a clean kill? They cut the flesh from still living bodies and sliced them in half, hearing and watching them suffer as they removed piece by bloodied piece until there was nothing left of value to them. Then, they threw what was left away like garbage.”

  The room was silent after that. Alistair leaned forward, his eyes glowing molten gold as his pupils narrowed into thin slits. The air tingled with what I could only assume was an alpha’s dominating presence. It filled the room, almost tangible, and blanketed us in a curtain of fear. I’ve faced werewolves before, sure, but never an alpha. Rogue wolves by their very definition weren’t alphas, and Garou packs rarely drew the attention of hunters, so I’d never even met an alpha before. If I had engaged one in combat, I doubt I’d be here today.

  Pictures of what it would be like for an alpha to shift and jump us flashed in my mind and I shrank back in my seat. Alex had also melted against couch, caution in his blue eyes as he tried and failed to stand his ground.

  I knew all werewolves reacted to their alpha’s mood, and Tamlin was no different. The veins in the blonde boy’s arms bulged as he clutched the armrest, his neck tight and teeth bared. He was trying to resist the shift, the strain his body showed contrasting with his expression. Unease and sadness was painted across his young face, like a little boy whose father just yelled at him in front of company.

  “We,” I started, surprised at how solid my voice was, “are very sorry for you and the Levin tribe’s losses, Mister–”

  “Alistair,” he corrected.

  “It’s just that the man who…escaped is important to my friend here.” I placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder, letting out a breath of relief I didn't realize I was holding when he relaxed under me instead of tensing further or pushing me away.

  Alistair raised a brow, one corner of his lips quirking up. “You mean the man you helped escape?”

  “I didn’t know he was involved at the time.” I looked down at my hands, grimacing at how clammy they were against each other, as if I were holding a slug. Was I just a huge wimp or was he that scary? One peek up at him confirmed that, yes, he was indeed that scary. And I was possibly a huge wimp.

  “Do you believe her, Tamlin?” Alistair said, his eyes still trained on me.

  Tamlin didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. It’s not just me, either. You know mom, er, the shaman agrees.”

  “Always loyal to family, I see. Though I’d much prefer if you kept that loyalty exclusive to this family.” Alistair frowned. “And yes, your mother has made her opinion quite clear. The problem is she bases her opinion on the words of that man.”

  “He’s a good man, Uncle,” said Tamlin.

  “Of course you would think so. Do not forget he is a man who has done nothing to stop his own people.”

  “He had no proof, and his position makes it hard for him to snoop–”

  Alistair sneered. “That is an excuse, boy.”

  Their disagreement descended into low whispers that must have been clear to them, but were incomprehensible to me. I turned my attention to Alex. I’d been rubbing circles against his shoulder with my thumb, trying to soothe him while selfishly enjoying the contact; it was like we hadn’t touched each other affectionately in months. The fact that we hadn’t even known each other for more than a month or so wiggled its way back into my head, and this time I couldn’t shake it off. How could I care so much about someone I, realistically, barely knew? I had no idea. But I did. I cared. I really cared.

  I scooted closer to him, enjoying the way our legs brushed together. He leaned into me, and it was embarrassing how happy that made me.

  “Hi,” I mouthed.

  My silliness seemed to relax him a little, and he gave me a small, tired smile.

  “I’m sorry about Tom, sweetie,” I whispered as softly as possible, knowing it wouldn’t help much with a werewolf’s super hearing. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “They haven’t got any proof. All of this is just words. Even if hunters are involved, that doesn’t mean Tom i
s.”

  “Things are skewed against him.” I took his larger hands in mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. “When I touched Alice’s body, there was a weird sensation – like my arm had been shoved in quicksand or something. The first time I shook Wright’s hand, I felt the same thing.”

  “So? Wright may be involved, but that doesn’t mean Tom–”

  I held a hand up to stop him. It hurt to watch him try so hard to rationalize this. I cupped his cheek, my thumb stroking against the minute, nearly invisible freckles across his nose. “When I woke up, one of the first things Tom asked was if Wright sent me.”

  “Wright is Sullivan’s right hand man, of course–”

  Alistair spoke up. “If you want proof, the shaman will provide it. Contrary to what you may think, we would not capture or punish anyone without being certain they were guilty.”

  Alex squeezed my hand. “What proof do you have?”

  “Tamlin.” Alistair nodded to the boy, who bowed once more and left the room. “Our shaman has communicated with the spirits of the departed; she has lived through their final memories. They, through her, identified the hunters we found in the forest as their killers.”

  “The spirits are too traumatized,” said Alex. “It’s impossible for them to communicate in a coherent manner.”

  At Alistair’s raised brow, I said, “Alex is a medium.”

  “I’m not an expert on magic, even the arts my people use,” said the alpha. “Tamlin has gone to fetch the shaman. She will explain.”

  I nibbled my lower lip, trying my hardest to hold back a “fetch” joke. Was there a support group for people addicted to puns and irony? Alex nodded at the man’s words, but the way he was cutting off the circulation in my hand told me he still wasn’t on board.

  The door opened to reveal a woman. She was muscular, but not overtly so. Her hair, a pale, golden blonde, was tied back into a French braid that hung over her left shoulder. With Tamlin standing next to her, it was clear they were related. From the fair hair to the eyes, even her finer, Nordic lines were mirrored on him. The only thing he didn’t appear to have inherited from her was his jawline, which was more square and chiseled, compared to her short and slim one. Unlike her son’s modern clothing, she wore an old-fashioned long-sleeved cream dress that brushed over her booted feet and a heavy blue wrap around her shoulders.