Shifters - The Jade Forest Chronicles 1

by Vivienne Neas

  “You know that if this comes out, you’re in trouble.”

  Fern twirled the hair at her temple around and let it loose only to twirl it again, going through a little rhythm that drove me crazy.

  “They can’t find out.”

  I had told her everything about Balfour – everything except the sex. The kissing she could know about, but I wasn’t about to tell her that I had gone that far with a werewolf. Fae only dated fae. Fae only married fae. Fae did not stray away from decorum or tradition, and even looking at a werewolf meant trouble.

  “I’m not going to tell.”

  A part of me relaxed. “Come on, if anything I'll deny it for you. You should know that about me by now.” This was true. “If they find out, though, you're screwed. What if something goes wrong?”

  “Something has already gone wrong. Muriel sold the land to the witches.”

  Fern shrugged and lay back on her bed of luscious grass. I was sitting cross-legged next to her, pulling a sprig of leaves apart.

  “And? It's not your problem. Each to his own and all that.”

  “There’s a lot of war going on outside the walls of the reserve. The others look for it, and they find it. All the time. We can’t allow something like that to happen.”

  “Why not?” Fern turned her gaze to me. Her eyes were the color of spring. “It has nothing to do with us what they do outside the reserve. That’s why this place exists in the first place.”

  “You hate the reserve.”

  She nodded. “I do. I just don't see the point of making someone else's problems your own. That's what the fae stand for. Peace when everyone's fighting, right?”

  She was right, in a way. It wasn’t our problem. Except that I had made it my problem by getting involved with Balfour. There was going to be trouble with the witches and the wolves, and it was going to happen right on our border.

  I argued, “You can’t tell me you don’t think it’s going to spill over at some point if they’re fighting right here where we can see them. Feel them.”

  “You know, Amber, I don’t really think about things like that at all. The reserve has functioned the way it does for years and years and it has done nothing to add to our lives. There's just a whole lot of taking away. I don't see why you should worry so much about what the fate of the reserve is. You're not Muriel's daughter. You're not going to inherit the reserve one day. You like it here, you like the system. Stop thinking about being a rebel – leave that to me.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t sit here and waste away, thinking about things that would get us nowhere in life other than in the same passive, stagnant way. I wanted more. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be me.

  Whoever that was.

  Ironically, I wanted what Fern had – freedom – even though my opinions clashed with hers.

  I felt them before I saw them. There was a prickle on my skin, and then two shadows appeared in the thicket against the far wall from where we were sitting. I held my breath and then looked at Fern. She frowned and pushed herself up, looking around.

  “Did you feel that?”

  I groaned inwardly and got up. I walked toward the shadows, and Balfour stepped out into the sun.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Behind me, Fern’s breath caught in her throat. She’d followed me.

  “I have to talk to you.”

  The other shadow moved, and then another werewolf stepped into the sun.

  “Do you have any idea what will happen if you’re seen here?” I asked Balfour.

  “Is this him?” Fern asked. She stood next to me, not in the least afraid. Anyone else would have been.

  “This is Balfour. And a friend. Who shouldn’t be in here.” I directed the last part of my speech to Balfour.

  He looked at me, his eyes electric, and I melted a little. “Take us somewhere we can talk.”

  It was a demand. I glanced at Fern; she had her arms crossed over her chest and just shrugged.

  “I’m out of here. This is not my game.”

  I shot her a pleading look – “Please?” I added when she still didn't move. She hesitated, then rolled her eyes and dropped her hands. “Fine.” She glanced at the two werewolves again, her face arrogant, before she left.

  “Will she tell on us?” Balfour asked.

  I shook my head. Not Fern. Then I looked around. We were alone, by some miracle.

  “Anyone who comes close enough will know you’re here. Fern felt it, too. You’re not as good at this as you think you are.”

  I looked around and decided that their hiding place was the safest place to be, so I stepped with the two wolves into the bushes. There was a hollowed-out space there, as if it had been planned that way, and it was big enough for us to stand and talk as long as we didn’t mind being very close to each other. I was fine being close to Balfour – I liked it, in fact – but the other wolf scared me.

  “This is Aryn,” Balfour said.

  I nodded at him.

  “And our alpha has been taken.”

  He told me the story. Everything that had happened since I’d left the hotel.

  “Muriel had the documents sent out for signing,” I told him. “The messenger returned the same time I did last night. I was too late.”

  Balfour nodded. “The land belongs to them now. If we don’t do something, we’re going to lose the pack. All of them.”

  Someone came closer. I felt the ripple before I heard the footsteps.

  “Oh, no.”

  I stepped out of the bushes and came face to face with Hocus. He was in his fae form. He was three times my size, a colossal creature. His dark hair was hanging over his shoulders in strands, and his eyes were flashing red.

  “Why are you doing this?” he demanded. His voice was deep, his lips forming the syllables around teeth that were too big for his mouth. “I don’t want to turn you in, but I can’t let something like this go.”

  He looked over my shoulder. He knew the wolves were there.

  “Hocus, please. This is about our safety. All of us.”

  He shook his head. “I know all about safety. This is my job, remember? I’ve let you out against the rules too many times. If they find out I’ve been helping you and this is what it came to, I’m going to be in as much trouble as you are the moment the council finds out you’re hosting werewolves in the reserve.”

  Balfour stepped out of the shadows. Aryn followed, but he was scared. I could tell by the way he hid behind Balfour and kept his eyes glued on Hocus’s enormous hands.

  “We mean no harm,” Balfour said.

  “You’re a werewolf in the fae reserve without permission or appointment. It’s my job to assume you mean harm.”

  Balfour looked up at the fae towering over him, and he didn’t show a lick of fear. That was impressive. Either he knew that we weren’t as big and scary as some of us looked, or he was hiding his fear very well.

  “Aryn,” Balfour said, his voice calm. “You should leave.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “If I’m captured and Raph is missing, you’re in charge of the pack. Get out of here.”

  Hocus narrowed his eyes. “I can’t let him leave.”

  I put my hand on Hocus’s arm. His skin was hot and sweaty, and it felt like leather under my fingers. “Please, allow one of them to look after their own, or the witches will obliterate them.”

  “Not my problem,” Hocus said, but he nodded at Aryn anyway.

  The wolf – frozen with fear a moment before – didn’t waste any time getting away. He disappeared into the thicket, and a moment later I felt his magic fade.

  “Thank you,” Balfour said.

  “I didn’t do it for you.”

  Hocus was as gentle as the rest of us, but his power was spectacular. He took Balfour by the shoulder and frog-marched him toward the hall. I walked next to him.

  “You’d better get out of here before Mrs. Bluegrain—”

/>   “Before I what?”

  Her voice sliced through me. She was standing in front of us. I didn’t know where she’d come from, but she’d seen me and she’d heard Hocus and there was no getting away now.

  “Take him to the cells,” she said to Hocus. Then she turned her gaze on me, and in her eyes I saw disappointment and irritation. “You can come with me, Miss Vale.”

  I looked at Hocus. There was an apology in his eyes. Then I looked at Balfour and found only determination in his, but we didn’t say anything to each other. After a round of nods, I followed Muriel into the hall as Hocus led Balfour away.

  Muriel led me into the conference room with the table where the council members met. It was empty now.

  She turned the key to lock the door. That was never a good sign.

  “Do you want to tell me what you were doing with a werewolf inside our walls?” she asked.

  I didn’t, really. Why did people always make that sound like an option?

  “He came to warn us.”

  “Of what?”

  “The witches. There’s one who has the ability to drain wolf power. The burial grounds – the cemetery – is full of that power. They’re going to overthrow the wolves completely.”

  Muriel narrowed her eyes. “And what does that have to do with us?”

  What, indeed. We could turn a blind eye. We always had.

  “Why are you happy about seeing someone else perish?” My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the empty room.

  “Why are you so eager to help a species that only wants war and destruction?”

  “They’re not like you say.” I kept my hands by my sides and focused on not balling them into fists. I didn’t want to look as defensive as I felt – as defensive as I probably sounded.

  “And you know this, because?”

  I took a deep breath and didn’t answer.

  “Am I to assume that you’ve spent more time with the werewolves than we know about?” she asked. “And what about the witches? Are they also not as we say? Or are they exactly so, and it’s just your precious friend who’s different?”

  I saw what she was doing. She was making me looked biased. And maybe I was. But I’d heard what Balfour had said, and I believed him.

  “You’re foolish, Amber. You’re just a child. We have the rules we do and take the precautions we take so that we don’t have to pollute our peace with the problems of others. There have been wars before and there will be again, and they will have nothing to do with us because we believe in love and harmony, not death and destruction.”

  “And in doing so, we care only for ourselves and no one else. I don’t mean to be rude, but that sounds awfully selfish. We’re so good at being peaceful that kindness and compassion go out the window.”

  Muriel frowned at me, and I remembered her ability to suck the air out of the room so that I suffocated. I didn’t want her to do that again. Instead, she unlocked the door. Hocus was outside, back from his errand of ‘disposing’ of the werewolf.

  “Take her to the chambers,” she said to him. “And don’t speak of this to anyone else.”

  Hocus nodded, then looked at me, asking me to go quietly. I did.

  “They’re not as bad as they sound,” he said after a moment of silence as we walked along.

  I didn’t grace his response with an answer. I disagreed.

  The chambers were rooms that stopped whatever talent was within from being used. I wouldn’t be able to use glamour or fire as long as I was in there, and I didn’t know how long that would be. The chambers weren’t that bad because they stopped you from escaping. Today they would stop me from making a difference, from saving lives.

  That was worse than anything.

  Chapter 8 -Balfour