by Lola Gabriel
“That is a lot of questions,” he repeated. “The feud has been handed down. My father passed it on to me, and now it’s mine to carry. I trusted— I trust him. And finding your mate is— Well, I don’t know much, I just did it. But it feels right. I’m more with her beside me.” Axel was afraid he was going to tear up in front of the kid. “Go tell your friends,” he said, “if you got anything out of that at all.”
Turner swirled immediately and ran-shuffled across the snow to the group of teen-shifters staring at him and at Axel.
Now fully clothed against the weather, Axel turned to Keira. Only her face was visible over the blankets she was wrapped in. She lay on a stretcher of tree branches and another blanket. She was deathly pale. Had it been Axel’s claws? What inside her had been punctured? Which wound was bleeding the most?
He moved toward her, almost afraid of touching her now, of making it worse—of hurting her more. Her breath was visibly shallow. The clouds of it above her were nothing but small puffs. Axel bent down to touch her face. He couldn’t feel it through his gloves, and he couldn’t remove them, so he bent further and kissed her. She was still warm, living. He pressed his forehead to hers. The electricity was there still; lighter, a tickle, a warmth. He kissed her again, his gloves uselessly against her cheek.
Suddenly, Axel became aware he was being watched. He stood up and glanced around him. A few people on his side of the clearing were looking, but their eyes were, mostly, pointedly averted. But then he stared across to the Juneau side: daggers from a sea of hard faces. Chance was looking at him, but looked away when Axel met his gaze. Axel turned away from them, too. His torn-up arm was agony. He couldn’t move the fingers in his left hand, or his wrist. He hoped Chance’s head hurt, that he’d ripped his ear as hard as he had felt in his paw.
And then, the sound of an engine. It was a pick-up truck with a full cab and snow tires. Byron was driving it down a dirt path that led through the trees, but honestly, he was disregarding the smaller ones, knocking them to the ground. When the scratched and dented truck reached the edge of the clearing, it screeched to a halt, and Byron jumped out while it was still running. Axel spun back around to face his pack.
“Hey, four of you! Get her in the back of the cab!”
Byron nodded at Axel and began to sprint across the bloodied, churned-up clearing. He called to Chance, but the big blond man was already making his way toward the car, Axel, and his unconscious sister. As they reached one another, Byron placed a hand on Chance’s shoulder and squeezed. Chance flinched, freezing for a moment. Four of the younger shifters were lifting the makeshift stretcher into the backseat of the cab, with one of them keeping the door open, two gingerly lifting Keira’s stretcher, and the fourth hovering in case of any kind of disaster. Axel watched them for a moment, out of fear for Keira, and he felt a new kind of pride. He couldn’t deal with these pack feelings now, with the way an alpha should, he supposed, feel. He turned back to Chance and Byron just as they reached him.
“What are we waiting for?” Chance asked, chest puffed and hands on hips as he tried not to seem out of breath. Byron looked at Axel and did the replying.
“Absolutely nothing, my friend. Hop in.” Byron gestured to the open front door of the cab, and Chance got in. Byron took the driver’s seat, and Axel squeezed behind him and sat in the tiny gap between Keira’s head and the window in the back. She was so still, so pale; he had to check. He bent down awkwardly sideways and pressed his cheek to hers. Warm.
“What are you doing, dude?” Chance had craned his neck, and he was looking from the front seat.
“I’m checking on her,” Axel said, nodding down at his arm. “I can’t take my gloves off.” Chance didn’t look pleased. Axel bent again and kissed Keira softly on the forehead.
“I should be back there,” Chance said. “He can’t steady her with only one good arm.”
Turning the key in the ignition, Byron scoffed. “Whose fault is that, macho man?”
Axel dropped his bad arm, placed his good hand on Keira’s shoulder, and held tight.
“I have her,” he said, and the truck began to move.
The Ambrosia Coven was inland about an hour. Luckily, the strongest witches were also the closest. They provided medical care in situations like this, especially for the shifters, and in some situations, the shifters did provide, or had provided protection for Ambrosia and many other covens. The relationship was symbiotic in its way.
Getting out of the forest was rough, since the track was all potholes and rocks under the snow. Axel half laid his body across Keira, his good hand on her thigh, trying to keep himself from agitating her wounds but also trying to keep her steady. From time to time, Chance glanced over at them. Axel, when his head was turned to look out the windscreen and see if they were nearly at the road, caught his eye. Chance was still angry. It was clear in those green eyes, darker than his sister’s but a reminder of what Keira’s beautiful eyes looked like under her vaguely fluttering lids. Axel began trying to catch his eye so he could see a flicker of Keira in them as he held her softly breathing body with his one good arm.
It was a solid fifteen minutes before they reached the highway, which was, of course, better than a dirt track but still not a well-kept road. The icy winters and few warmer summer months meant expansion and contraction, ice and snow and wind. And in rural Alaska, there was little upkeep. Axel tried to relax, to lift himself from Keira, but every bump sent a spasm of terror through him. He could feel her blood beginning to soak into his coat. When he moved slightly, he stuck to her blankets. The blood, her blood, had made it through bandages and blankets and to the fabric of his coat. He wanted to clutch her hard against him, even if he knew he couldn’t because that would only worsen the blood loss.
“What are you looking at?” Chance eventually demanded when Axel’s eyes met his for the fourth or fifth time.
“You look like her,” Axel said. “A little, at least.”
“Yeah,” Chance spat back, “she’s my sister.”
As he was driving, Byron glanced back at Axel, checking on his reaction. Byron nodded ever so slightly. Fine. It was fine. Chance was family now, whether Axel and Byron liked it or not. Byron didn’t like it, and Axel could see that, yet he stayed silent, despite his distrust of Chance. After his check, he kept his eyes on the road. Axel appreciated his friend’s loyalty; his father’s friend, probably the person who, at this point, knew him best in the world. Axel was filled with gratitude for Byron all of a sudden. He was about to thank him, his words as filled up with emotions as he was. Then Byron took a sharp turn onto a small lane. It was barely discernible under the snow that lay over it.
“Jesus,” Chance said, “my sister’s bleeding out in the back! Can you be careful?”
“I’m saving your sister,” Byron practically growled, “can you keep your attitude to yourself?” Chance gave Byron a look, but nothing more. His shoulders were tense, his elbows stiff on the armrests.
They were coming up to a long driveway. There was a rusted iron gate, and the place looked abandoned. Pulling up to it, Byron hit the horn three times, hard enough that Keira moved her head a little and groaned.
“I sent a message,” Byron said. He waited a second. “On my phone.” Axel kept a hand on Keira’s head, leaned forward, and gently put his other hand on his friend’s arm.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thanks, Byron.”
16
Chance
Another place Chance had only been to as a child was the Ambrosia Coven. The gate was rusted, bent iron, an intentional deterrent. The coven took no chances with visitors. Chance had come here with his father when there had been a fight between two members of their pack… about a woman, Chance had thought at the time. His father hadn’t said, but the bloody man groaning in the back of the car had been calling some woman’s name. Maybe it was his mother’s or wife’s. Chance had been young. It was long before his first transition.
Byron had honked and was currently waiting. Back in Chance’s
father’s time, he’d sent Chance to wiggle through the gate to save time. The witches would eventually sense them, he had said, so they had to be quick. Chance shook his head free of the memory. They had to be quick now as well.
In seconds, there was a woman at the gate. She had a dark nest of hair, and she was wearing jeans and a black down jacket. She lifted the metal like it was nothing, not even unlocking it, and ushered the truck in. Then she disappeared.
“They like to show off,” Byron said, “even in an emergency.” At the end of the long, yew-lined driveway, was a sprawling house. As the truck drew up to it, the witch in the jeans reappeared. She yanked open Chance’s door before he’d had a chance to.
“Agnes Ambrosia,” she said. “Did we meet once before? You were a little cub… Anyway, sorry about the house.” She waved a hand at the three-story, many-windowed structure behind her. “We had something much better when we were in the homeland. Stone, you know, what you’d expect for a coven, but this is what we get here.”
Chance couldn’t say he recognized her. Her recognizing him felt almost intrusive, if he was honest. But he bit his tongue, for his sister, as the odd woman looked beyond him.
“Byron! So good to see you, old chap. I mean, we only ever see you when disaster strikes, these days. You should visit!” Now her eyes were at the back of the cab, on Axel and Keira. Chance turned to look at them. Their faces had a matching pallor.
“Please, Agnes,” Axel said.
“Dear boy!” The witch practically pulled Axel out of the car and into a hug. Chance was taken aback by this. Why was the most powerful coven in Alaska on hugging terms with Axel and not him? That didn’t matter now. They were here for Keira. He stepped out the car as Byron did the same.
“Don’t want to break up this party,” Chance said, “but does anyone care about my sister?” Agnes let go of Axel and tutted. She looked to be in her forties but was actually older than any of the shifters.
“Be patient, Chance,” she chided. “Your father did always tell me you had a hot head.” She walked over to Keira, who remained on her stretcher, still, in the back of the cab. Axel touched Agnes’ arm, dropping his own bloody forearm in the process.
“She’s my mate,” he said. “I need you to fix her.”
Chance let out a sarcastic little laugh. “Why did you do this to her, then?”
Axel’s eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped toward Chance.
“You did this to her,” he said. “It was your summons. It was both of us out there in the clearing, but it was your summons.”
Even though Chance felt this like a punch in the gut, he tried to look nonchalant. He hoped he didn’t still have blood on his face. He put one hand on his hip. “You seduced her, Fairbanks. You knew what you were doing. As if you didn’t know who she was. You were on the rebound from that woman, what was her name? Leoni—”
Axel took a step toward Chance and then froze.
“Boys,” Agnes called them. “Behave, please. For the sake of the poor girl, at least.” Axel wriggled, as if trying to free himself. “Bring her in,” Agnes told Byron and Chance, and Chance felt a strong need to do as he was ordered. Byron shook his head.
“This is the Ambrosia Coven,” he said. “They agree to help us because we used to help them. Now it’s less symbiotic… Agnes here is doing us a favor.”
Agnes smiled at Byron, almost flirtatiously, as he obediently helped slip his sister out of the car. Axel gasped and went a little limp. Then he stood up straight.
“Let me help.” He started toward the stretcher, but Agnes stopped him.
“No, they’re fine.” She wasn’t looking at Axel now, but at Keira. The stretcher was oddly light, Chance thought. “Careful on the steps, boys,” Agnes said as the three shifters and the strange witch reached the equally strange house. “They get icy.”
The inside of the house was as odd as the outside, a maze of corridors through which Agnes led them down until they reached an expansive living room.
“Lay her down,” she instructed, pointing to a large sofa. They did as they were told. “Would anyone like a refreshment of any kind? We have frogspawn soup and some snakeskin crackling, I think. I’ll call the help.”
Byron smiled widely, and Chance glanced at Axel. Were they supposed to…? Axel looked as disgusted as Chance knew he must. After a moment, the witch laughed.
“For crying out loud, boys, I’m joking! Gullible for a couple of alphas, aren’t you?” She looked at Byron again. “All brawn, no brains, as usual.” Then she said, “I’ll have something brought in. You’ll all need your strength.” Finally, Agnes walked over to Keira, who was stirring a little, her hair stuck to her forehead and her cheeks stained with sweat. “This is the emergency, I assume?”
“Yes,” Byron said. Then he looked at Axel. “I texted, so it was a brief message.”
Chance was becoming increasingly annoyed. What was this woman up to, with her jokes and banter? His sister could be— Time was clearly of the essence.
“Who is she?” Agnes asked, beginning to lift a few of the blankets that wrapped Keira.
“My sister.” Chance answered just as Axel said, “My mate.” The two men shot looks at one another. Their lips twitched as though they would have liked to snarl, had they been shifted.
“Ah,” said Agnes. “I see. I see why you would come to me. Good thinking, Byron.”
Chance was boiling with rage, but he was trying to contain it. That scrawny sap had just met his sister. He’d known her for almost three centuries. He’d looked after her his whole life, toughened her up into the strong woman she was now. Maybe he shouldn’t have done such a good job; she wouldn’t have disobeyed him like that if she wasn’t so hot-headed and self-sufficient. Chance clenched a fist and tried not to imagine hitting Axel in his smug face.
Agnes observed the bloody bandages, ran her hand along Keira’s side, and then rubbed the blood between two fingers and sniffed it.
“Bear wounds?” she asked, turning to Axel. “What happened?” Axel looked at the ground for a second.
“We were… There was a summons. Chance and I were fighting.”
“I didn’t mean—” Chance broke in. “She wasn’t supposed to come! She followed. She was shifted.” Agnes raised her eyebrows.
“She was animal for more than a few hours? For days?” Chance and Axel both nodded. “And you don’t know which of you did this?” They both shook their heads and looked at one another. There was more confusion and sadness on Axel’s face than anger. Chance hated him for that. Even more. Once more, he bit it back. Agnes sighed. “This is going to be tough,” she said. “You’ll both have to go.”
“Go where?” Chance and Axel both asked, again speaking over one another. Before the witch could answer, there was a knock on the door.
“That will be dinner!” Agnes cried. “Come in!” A young woman slipped through the door carrying a tray. “Thank you, Maxine,” the witch said. “Set it down on the table. And could you light a fire?”
Maxine walked across the room, barely glancing at Keira, and put the tray down on the large oak table. Then she went over to the fireplace and murmured a few words, rubbing her palms together. A fire leapt up. These women were, Chance had decided, completely insane.
“Eat.” Agnes pointed to the bowls on the table. “You’ll need it. Byron,” she said, “help me move her to the bedroom.” Both Chance and Axel made as if to move toward Keira, but Agnes stood in their way. “Eat! She needs you to.” Byron walked over to the sofa to help her with the stretcher.
Suddenly, Chance realized he didn’t have the end of that childhood memory. He didn’t remember what had happened to the bloody man in the backseat, if they had come to collect him, or whether he had seen the woman he was calling for again. He wracked his brain, but he just didn’t know. He couldn’t find it. His stomach flipped. The last thing he wanted to do was eat. Sitting down to the steaming bowls of stew, Axel looked at him.
“It’s just chicken, right?
” Chance picked up his bread. He shrugged.
“I’d eat whole frogs if it meant saving Keira,” he said. He didn’t break eye contact with Axel as he dipped his bread and brought it to his mouth. Axel picked up his spoon.
“Right,” he said, lifted his spoon to his mouth. He laughed. “Just chicken.” Chance’s shoulders loosened up a little. “I’ve heard of the Ambrosia Coven, of course. I know the stories. My father told me to come when the pack was in need. But is Agnes…” Axel looked like he was searching for the correct word. “Is she a bit weird? Even for a witch?”
Finally, Chance laughed, a single ‘ha,’ which he didn’t feel good about. Despite that, he nodded.
“Definitely weird,” he said. He paused for a moment. “I’ve been here once before. With my father, when he led our people. One of them was hurt… badly. I was a small child. I remember him being taken into this house.”
Axel was staring at him expectantly, spoon hanging above his bowl. He didn’t need to ask the question—Chance knew what it was. And he shrugged.
“I don’t remember, man. I wish I did. I’ve been trying.”
17
Axel
It felt like a lifetime before Agnes came back into the room. The fire was blazing incessantly, crackling cheerfully at the other side of the room, and Chance was sat opposite him, looking like a boxer before a big fight. Axel wanted to say something to calm Keira’s brother, but he knew it would make things worse. Chance seemed so lost in his own head.
Axel wanted to ask about Keira, about her childhood; if she’d been an awkward teenager; her first transition. He knew her so deeply and not at all. And if… Well, he needed to know her. Whatever happened, he had to, in every way. This new feeling, this new kind of love, was so intense that he almost couldn’t think about it. When he did, when he let his mind focus on his feelings for the woman lying so badly injured in the other room, it was almost like his breath was being ripped from him.