by E Hall
It’s almost like Corbin is gone. Far away from here.
The night filters back.
I recall Olive and Octavius’s stories about the fae then Corbin’s question about stopping the fae king. He was told to be brave. During that time, I heard the fae song. The one that’s been haunting me.
It’s similar to the song I hear when I open the diary and the one Jana sang during the battle at Lonsdale.
I shiver.
The fae exist inside of me, but how can I find the truth and separate it from what we’ve been told about the fae, the deaths, and the dangers of magicals? I feel an incongruence, but I don’t know what it is. If Lila wasn’t abducted from the fae and gave up her magic willingly, what else is a lie?
Magicals have been told that their base nature is bad, but I’m not so sure that’s the case.
My jacket, hanging on a hook by the door, beeps. Or at least I think so. I dig in the pocket and pull out Trigg’s phone. It’s been so long since I’ve heard an incoming text alert, I almost forgot what it was.
The notification name says Taylor. I ignore it, swiping to start my research. I type can books talk? Then I delete that because it looks so stupid in black font. No, books can’t talk. I could’ve answered that question without the internet. I knew that. Yet, I hear a voice or singing or something every time I open the old diary.
What I should ask is what it means if a person thinks they hear something when they open a magical book. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
I have my doubts about the accuracy of the info posted on the internet, but I try magical diary.
After sifting through sales pages for a children’s toy that comes with an enchanted pen, I come across several journals for adults before I get to articles about unusual items. However, it’s all hearsay and speculation.
I lower into the cushy chair in front of the window. The phone beeps with another text. The bubble pops up and the screen fills with a photo of a half-dressed girl who is not Avril. I click away because it’s none of my business.
Going back to the internet browser page, I try a few more search terms before giving up. All those games of pool were for nothing. I was trying to use a human solution to a magical problem.
Something I said not too long ago slams into my mind.
I’m the problem and the solution.
Mrs. Hershey, my English teacher in high school, and one of my favorite people on the planet, used to have us do an activity called a brain dump when we were feeling creatively blocked. The students in the back of the classroom always got a laugh out of the name of the lesson.
We took out a fresh sheet of paper and for thirty minutes, we wrote down everything on our minds. The pen could never stop moving over the page. The idea was we’d get past the superficial thoughts on the surface, clogging up the works. When things like assignments due, chores at home that parents were nagging us about, and things like that were written on paper, we continued writing, that’s when the gold would appear. Little gems. Big questions. Stuff that we didn’t give ourselves time to think about because it was intimidating. She’d say, “Recognizing a problem necessitates a person to find a solution and finding a solution obligates them to carry it out.”
Maybe Mrs. Hershey’s practice can help me go deeper in understanding how I’m the problem and the solution—oh, and break a curse of some sort.
I open a notes page on Trigg’s phone as it beeps with another text. “Taylor, Trigg doesn’t have his phone. You can stop harassing him,” I mutter.
Trying to focus, I write down everything in the front of my mind before digging into the gold. I move past the part about how I was born as a tri-magical and that prompted the creation of the Accords to suppress the violent base natures of magicals. Oddly, many of them don’t remember when they were destructive, but that’s by design so they aren’t tempted to return to those behaviors. Then I showed up on the scene, synthesized with my power, was attacked, and bonded with my mate, but show no outward sign of being overly dangerous despite what the Council believes about me. (The encounter with Amanda was self-defense.)
So here I am, seeking the truth. My father was seeking the truth.
But what is it?
How can I find it?
I tap my finger against my chin, thinking. I’m supposed to be writing. Not stopping. But the phone beeps with yet another text from Taylor, whoever that is. Definitely not a member of the pack. She’s interfering with my brain dump.
The latest text says, I thought we were going to meet last night? I can’t stop thinking about our kiss last week and am dying for another one.
My pulse jumps.
I may not have gotten to the truth of what’s going on in the broader magical world, but it looks like one of my beta wolves is cheating...on my enemy, Avril.
Corbin is very clear about how the pack operates, loyalty is one of the big three. If Trigg isn’t being faithful to his girlfriend, what else is he up to?
It’s wrong, but I pull Alpha rank and scroll through the messages. I discover Trigg’s been seeing a girl from Polaris for several months. That must be why he has the phone—to keep in touch with her.
On the home screen, I also notice several dating apps. “You dog,” I grind out.
Without thinking, I storm from the cottage. It’s like my mother takes over. I don’t suffer fools even if they’re not my boyfriend.
I’m on a mission to confront Trigg and make him tell Avril the truth. No matter that she hates me, she doesn’t deserve to be cheated on.
I spot him in the common room, his back to me, and a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. Don’t even tell me he has more than one girl on the side. I am not having this.
From across the room, I shout, “Trigg, you have some explaining to do.”
He jerks his head in my direction, revealing Avril, whose expression darkens.
Her fingers, tipped with long, blood-red manicured nails, curl. “Figures, Kenna would interrupt.”
Trigg laughs.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. I didn’t think this through and certainly didn’t expect Avril to be here. Usually, she sleeps in. I know only because it took me a few tries to feed her the mayo doughnut and dirt coffee.
“Right. That’s me. Always causing problems.” I rock back in my boots.
I’m about to say something about how he’s supposed to be helping in the garden or some other white lie to avoid what is sure to be awkwardness to the nth degree, when the phone beeps in my hand again.
It’s Taylor who wears even less clothing than before. The vamp no longer exists inside me, but I witnessed my mother hurt enough times that I see red as dark as Avril’s nails.
Maybe if I tell the truth now, the greater truth that I seek will reveal itself.
“You have some explaining to do,” I say, shaking the phone in my hand.
He swipes for it, and I hold it out of reach.
“First of all, you’re not officially supposed to have a cell phone. It messes with magicals or something,” I add weakly because I know exactly what he’ll say in response when he opens his mouth.
“Funny, you didn’t think so when you wanted to use it.”
“Research purposes.”
“Like prying into my personal life?” Trigg’s nostrils flare.
“If by personal life you mean Taylor, then yeah.”
“Your personal life?” Avril asks, entering the conversation.
I flash the phone in her direction as it lights up with the tenth text, at least.
Trigg’s ears heat.
“I’m already not your favorite person, Avril, so what do I have to lose? Sister wolf to sister wolf, Trigg has something to tell you.”
“Your hair looks good today,” he says to her.
Her arms cross in front of her chest.
“I like it when you play video games with me.”
She cocks her head.
“Tell her the truth,” I growl.
“I am,�
�� he says.
“The other one. Or I will. That’s an Alpha order,” I add as the wolf in me surges with authority.
He hangs his head. “I haven’t been loyal.”
I pass Avril the phone. “I’m sorry.” I turn and leave them to it. My work here is done. Well, not really. “Oh, and you’re on probation, Trigg.”
“You can’t—”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, but I can. Avril, you’re back to being beta.” Satisfied, I turn on my heel in search of a doughnut and my fated mate.
The latter isn’t at HQ or in Polaris. I find the former at the Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice bakery.
Where’d Corbin go? Why didn’t he tell me he was leaving?
If Trigg and Avril’s relationship is any indication, honesty and loyalty are necessary. As far as I know, Corbin doesn’t have a cell phone, but I suddenly worry that he does have a Taylor.
Now, I have multiple problems on my hands. Despite the doughnut puffed to crispy perfection and glazed with sweet syrup, the uneasiness in my stomach just won’t quit.
Chapter 6
Corbin
I remained beside Kenna through the night, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest. She never wavered from peaceful rest. I inhaled her cherry scent, letting it fill me.
Pulling my arms out from around her was physically painful. Leaving her still aches. But I have to do what’s right. It’s my duty to protect her, the pack, and stop the Klave...and exact my revenge against Melchior.
After shifting, I ran as the dawn lifted over the edge of the horizon. I kept on, running under a cinder-colored sky until I reached the edge of the fae borderlands.
I don’t trust Melchior. I don’t like him. But he is an Alpha Warrior and Guardian so I will announce my arrival and intention. I will show my face. I won’t stab him in the back. He’ll see the storm coming for him.
Still a wolf, I step into the forest. It’s close around me and damp, almost humid, salty. We’re not near the ocean. The forest by the pack lands are dry as the leaves turn and fall, but not here. Strange.
Coming here by myself is probably selfish and stupid, but the fae king almost ended my mate’s life. It’s time for me to end his.
I’ve lost so much, there’s no chance I’ll lose Kenna too. She is my beacon, my life raft, my every single rescue analogy I can think of because she’s my mate, the person who keeps me afloat.
Leaves that should be long past their prime hang above, creating obscure patterns of dappled light like stained glass creations.
My wolf rumbles at the snapping of a twig. I focus my eyes.
A light breeze carries with it the sharp scent of laundry detergent, oatmeal, and cinnamon. A human trudges close. I go still, listening, sensing.
The fae song that filled my ears the night before comes from the depths of the forest. I sense danger. The words and melody threaten to seize me, even in wolf form, which is unusual. This confirms that the spell is lifting.
The song, the cry of the fae, tries to pull me under.
I focus on who I am, trying not to succumb to the lament of loss and ruin. It pierces the part of me that knows the Alpha Call-Out is coming and that I could lose Kenna just as Logan lost his true mate.
The song continues, pulling, tugging, cracking at my outer shell to pull out my physical form. My fight fades. But before it goes away completely, I send a message to Baker using the wolf-way of communicating. I’m not sure it will get through considering the wards on these woods, but I order him to call a summit with Ivan, the vamp councilman.
As Baker starts to ask me if he should summon Melchior too, all at once, I shift away from my wolf. In a nearby reflecting pool, I look like nothing more than a human, a victim.
The song fills my ears, my mind, my being. I try to draw back to my wolf, but the fae magic consumes me. The fight with Logan fills my mind in a play-by-play recount of every painful detail.
Focus. I roll up my sleeves.
I’m Corbin Stone, a guy who kicks butt and takes names.
I don’t look back, not even for a second.
I will not be defeated.
My inner wolf snarls.
That’s more like it.
I stomp through the woods, daring the fae to expose themselves. I scan, search, and seek the fae and the human, eager to protect him. I try to follow the song so I can stop it, but it echoes all around me, tossed through the forest like a teasing, winking eye.
The song throbs in my ears. It’s the wind of an inner battle. I fight against raising my hands and covering my ears.
I can no longer help it, I shout, “Ahh.” The sound comes off my tongue and echoes.
This is the fae torment. This is their dirty work. This is the spell lifted.
My hands form fists at my sides and my chest heaves. I must stop them.
The song somehow prevents me from shifting again. I detect wards against my kind. A vague memory comes back. The image of a rune to keep wolves off fae lands.
“Hello, handsome.” The voice sounds like whistling wind.
Another echoes and another, surrounding me.
The wind picks up and blows a fae with corn silk hair onto the path in front of me. She wears a red cloak much like the one Kenna has.
She drapes her arm over my shoulder, cupping the back of my head. I jolt like I walked across a wool carpet.
“Ah, so you’re not a woodsman,” she says.
My wolf growls.
She waggles her finger in front of me and tsks. “You’re so bold coming into our midst alone, shifter.”
“I came to speak to the king.”
“To speak to him?” She arches an eyebrow and laughs like she knows my true aims.
If I were a wolf right now and able to ward them off, I’d be laughing too. As it is, my physical form stands no chance against a forest full of fae.
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
I narrow my eyes and angle my head to the degree of you don’t intimidate me.
The singing is a low hum in the background.
“Come with us. We’ll show you what you’ve been missing.” She leans so close she’s almost blurry.
“I came to see Melchior.”
“What do you want?”
“His life.” The words are bold, brave.
She shrinks back and then hisses. “Those sound like fighting words. How dare you threaten our king?”
“How dare you take innocent lives,” I say, referring to the recent death of the hunter.
Her smile flashes. “I don’t think he’ll be missed.”
“Then you admit it?”
“We cannot help that we seek revenge.”
“I know the feeling,” I grind out. “Then that must mean the Accords spell was lifted.”
She trails her finger down my chest. “If it was ever there to begin with.”
At that, a surge of magic that’s icy hot punctures my chest, the world goes still, blurs, and I collapse.
A rough boot kicks me. I blink a few times as my surroundings come into focus. I’m in a room with a vaulted ceiling that looks like the night sky. The Dog Star is absent. Vines and carvings cover the walls, winding around long, narrow windows.
Someone paces nearby and their cloak billows, gusting the distinct stink of fae in my direction. My wolf grumbles.
“Dog got your tongue?”
“It’s cat; cat got your tongue,” I hiss as I press onto my elbows, bound before the king.
Mock pity drips from Melchior’s expression. “You have something I want.”
“If you mean the scepter, no, I don’t have it.”
He clicks his tongue. “Let me rephrase. You have someone I want.”
My heart hiccups. He means Kenna. “The key to your power is my mate? You almost killed her.”
He tips his head from side to side. “I meant to kill the wolf within, which she favors. Got the vamp instead. One down. One to go before she’s fully fae and all mine.”
No
way. I struggle against the bonds.
“What if I told you I can provide peace?” Melchior asks, steepling his fingers.
“I wouldn’t believe you. If you could do that, then you would.”
“Some say I have done so for eighteen years. Imagine the world without the protection the Accords afford? It would be chaos, death. You couldn’t live with that kind of blood on your hands, Corbin. My fae are already getting unruly.” He shrugs like there’s nothing to do about it.
“Then why don’t you go after the Klave?”
“I want your mate. Consider it a favor to take her off your hands. The truth is, her fae power will increase, the Accords spell will lift, and she’ll be the ruin of wolves.”
The words drift slowly to me and then slam hard into my awareness.
The notion chills me and pushes me to a boiling point at the same time. “No one threatens Kenna.”
By the power of the seal we share, my wolf breaks through the fae wards. Nothing can keep me from trying to be with her, protecting her, or avenging her.
In a burst of gnashing teeth and extended claws, I shift and lunge at the fae king.
Instantly, he meets me with a blast of magic, casting me to the ground. “You’re strong, Alpha. Fortunately, this is my domain. You’re in no position to attack.”
I get to all fours and shake my head.
“Kenna is my future consort. The queen of the fae. She will be mine.”
Never. I bark loudly.
“You cannot have the peace you seek and her.” Melchior’s lips twist into a sick grin.
I dive for his neck.
For a moment his gaze is placid, almost condescending. In a flash of fur and a glimmer of teeth, I close my jaw around his neck.
His magic pulses between us then rips from him. Like a gust of wind, I fly out of the room and through the trees, roughly bumping the trunks and branches before landing on my rump with a whimper. I’m outside the forest.
Standing over me and in a voice as sharp as a knife’s edge, Melchior says, “I’ll let you live this once. Bring me the girl or your pack dies.” In a whirl, he disappears.