Remnants: A dark urban fantasy (Shifter Chronicles Book 2)

by Melle Amade

  “I don’t trust her,” I mutter. “Her dad was just revolting against us and then got thrown in prison.”

  “My uncle got himself locked up when he went against Lord Van Arend,” Callum says. “I’m not going to waste my time feeling sorry for him or worrying about her. I have bigger issues. Like getting us through the debut.”

  “And managing the Ravensgaard,” I murmur.

  “Precisely,” Callum says. And I suddenly want to give him a hug. Here I am worrying about Iona trying to hit on him and he’s trying to figure out how to get us safely past the interrogation from the Order.

  “Sorry,” I shrug.

  He looks surprised. “What for?”

  “Nothing,” I murmur.

  We fade into silence as more and more Ravensgaard fill the fairgrounds. The quiet space isn’t uncomfortable. It’s warm and relaxing. He lets out a deep breath and it seems he’s as grateful for the company as I am.

  “What time are they supposed to be here?” I finally ask.

  “Any minute.” He glances at his watch, his other hand tucked into one of the loops on his gear.

  “You okay?” My voice is low so none of the Ravensgaard will hear me.

  He looks down at me and smiles. “Yeah.” His voice is rough.

  I can’t pull my gaze from his. The cool canyon air gently envelopes us, and we exhale together like two decompressing balloons. Self-conscious laughter escapes our throats. It’s uncanny, like we’re completely connected. The pale angles of his face are uplifted and glowing. Warmth radiates from his eyes.

  “I’ve never met the Berzerkens before, but some of the Ravensgaard have seen them around at various events. They’re supposed to be terrifying,” he says. “And that’s the Ravensgaard talking.”

  “You’re going to be amazing.” I want to press my hand against the lapel of his leather jacket. I’m not sure if it’s to push him back, pull him close, or just to feel the smooth material under my fingers.

  “Here comes Roman,” Callum nods as Roman steps into view.

  “How are you?” Roman peers over his sunglasses.

  “Okay.” I shrug, tilting my head knowing there’s nothing to be done about it.

  “C’mon.” He drops his glasses back down over his eyes and holds his elbow out, looping my hand through it. “Let’s go.”

  I throw a questioning glance at Callum, but he’s already moving away. My breath catches in my throat as he joins Iona and Shanahan. They walk with the rest of the shifters towards the low bleachers overlooking the arena. Iona looks smug and amazing. She’s in gear like the rest of us, but her long black hair hangs almost like a cape over her shoulders and frames her high cheekbones and jet black eyes perfectly. Jealousy gnaws at my stomach.

  “Seems a little odd I’m not walking with the Ravensgaard,” I mutter.

  “You got upgraded,” Roman grins. “You get to hang with me.”

  My smile is stiff, but I’m glad he’s here.

  “Where’s Zan?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” Roman frowns. “She hasn’t quite been herself lately.”

  My head has been so full of my own problems, I haven’t paid much attention. “Do you think it’s something with her and Aiden?” I ask.

  Roman’s mouth stretches and his teeth are clenched in the corner. I cock my head to the side to get a better view. For the first time ever, he actually looks a bit like a frog. A stressed frog.

  “You don’t like their relationship,” I say.

  “He’s the frikkin’ Heir,” Roman hisses the words out almost under his breath. “It was always a bad idea.”

  “Funny,” I snort. “That’s what she told me when I had a crush on him.”

  “She was right then and I’m right now,” he says.

  “You like her,” I exclaim, pulling him to a standstill.

  “I do not.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s not that.” Roman takes a deep breath, staring up at the branches of the oak tree. “I mean, fine. I kinda like her, but the point is, it’s going to end badly.”

  “What the hell is it with shifters?” I grip my hands, twisting them together. “Why does everything have to end badly?” I push away the thought that where I’m sitting might have the worst ending of all.

  “Sometimes it does,” Roman says. “But Zan isn’t even happy now. Part of that is your, you know, thing, but it’s also Aiden. I don’t think things are going well.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  “She doesn’t have to.”

  “Right, because you can read her mind. That’s a froggy super power, too.”

  “Look, Shae, I’m not so caught up in my own issues that I can’t see when my friends are suffering.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You kinda did.” I mutter.

  “Shae, I didn’t,” he says. “What I meant is that you, Callum, and Aiden, you guys are dealing with big issues. I think whatever Zan is going through is getting a little lost in the wash. I mean, who wants to talk about your first relationship when you’re dealing with your dad dying.”

  “Is Lord Van Arend dying?” I gasp.

  “See, my point?” Roman says. “And, I don’t know. Maybe. But it’s a real issue for the Muiderkring in general and Aiden on a personal level.”

  “I’m sorry.” I lean against him for a moment and it aches a bit in my heart. Zan loves Aiden, who’s too busy for her and Roman likes Zan, but that’s going to be as pointless as when I liked Aiden. When did things get so complicated? Whatever happened to just hanging out in the Sanctuary with my friends on a lazy afternoon watching the clouds drift by?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Roman says. “C’mon, we can’t be late. We have to fall into line for when the Berzerkens show up.”

  We follow the Ravensgaard to the bleachers at the far side of the fairgrounds. Aiden and Lord Van Arend look like they’re holding court. Aiden’s dad is wearing a thick, red wool coat with the collar turned up. A cashmere scarf is wrapped carefully around his lower face, and large sunglasses hide his eyes. Even from here, he sags onto his seat. Despite his dashing wardrobe he looks weary.

  Could Aiden’s dad really be dying? I thought shifters were supposed to live long lives.

  Roman’s and Zan’s parents sit closest to Aiden and his dad as their most loyal aids.

  “My parents would fit right in there. Not,” I joke.

  “Stop it, Shae.” Roman presses a hand onto my wrist, hard. All humor is gone. “Today is about the Order. Focus. Act like a raven.”

  A raven. I barely remember what it’s like to shift in to a raven.

  My guts squirm together. I’ve been in battle. I’ve been on trial. But I’ve never come face to face with the Order. Neither have my friends. My steps slow, but Roman keeps trudging on. I have to keep up.

  Act like a raven.

  I don’t even know what that means. How will I know when I am being like a raven or not? What if they all know, and I don’t?

  The Ravensgaard fill the bleachers. Some with lighter brown hair, a couple with blond hair, but most of them with black hair. They have the common look of extended family.

  I breathe in slowly. I’m part of this family, too. By blood and by oath.

  We angle for a far corner of the lower bleachers. Eagles are interspersed with ravens also. Since Marshall Law and the rebellion, it seems the Van Arends are not simply going to be surrounded by Ravensgaard. Topanga has become a shifter town. You’d think that would make me more comfortable, but I can’t say that it does.

  We just settle in when all eyes turn towards the fairgrounds entrance, where the largest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life enters. He probably twice the size of Shanahan. His shoulders are like a mountain, and his legs seem to cause a small earthquake as he walks towards the bleachers. He wears a royal blue velvet cape with silver lining that swirls around him as he thunders into the grounds.

  “El Oso Plateado, the S
ilver Bear. Grand Master of the Order,” says Roman.

  “I’ve never heard of a silver bear,” I say.

  “He’s the last of his kind,” Roman says.

  He’s flanked by two men almost equally as large. One wears a patch over his eye, and the other has shocking white, shoulder length hair. Their dark eyes take in all of us on the bleachers as if any one of us might make a nice appetizer. My fingers tap on the metal bleachers, but Roman quickly reaches down and folds my hand in his to stop the pinging sound.

  “What about the hulks around him?” I ask. They have to be bears, too. Or maybe they’re elephants. “They’re the biggest people I’ve seen.”

  “Berzerkens.” Roman nods at the one with white hair. “Balthazar tutored us on them yesterday. That’s Polaris, and the other one is Patch. El Oso has made a clan of the bits and pieces left over from other bear clans.”

  Ravens and eagles alight in the trees all around the bleachers. Whether in bird or human form, they are all bowing their head towards El Oso.

  “How come—”

  But Roman raises a finger to his lips, signaling the end of our conversation.

  Behind El Oso and his bodyguards, a mass of Berzerkens follow, filling up the small clearing of our community fairgrounds. No wonder these guys rule the shifters. They are all massive, all showing their teeth. All looking like they’re ready for the kill and anxious to have the taste of blood in their mouth.

  Just seeing them makes my skin tremble. How could Iona even think anyone could attack the Order?

  Suddenly I realize I’m the only one in the bleachers without my head bowed. El Oso’s giant head swings around, and his pale gray eyes burn into me, ice cold. An almost imperceptible movement of his fingers brings forward a tiny woman with slanted eyes and bleached-white hair. I can’t tell if she’s actually small, or just looks that way because she’s standing next to El Oso. Like him, she wears a robe, but it’s deep purple. The color is so dark it seems to steal light from the overcast sky. A thin metal coker glints around her neck.

  Her sharp brown eyes glance off me before she stands on tiptoes and whispers something up to El Oso. His gaze narrows and his head moves slightly, but when she is done, he gives a dismissive wave of his hand, as if what she says is as bothersome as a fly.

  Roman tenses next to me. I glance up at him. His dark skin is suddenly pale, his mouth a flat red line.

  “Who is she?” I whisper.

  “Lady Heather,” Roman says. His words are barely a whisper and I lean in to hear them, but before he’s done speaking, his finger is back against his lips. I’ll have to save all my questions until later.

  El Oso surveys the bleachers, his lips pulled up in what is probably meant to be a smile, but it looks more like a grimace with bared teeth. This event is supposed to be a greeting between lords, but El Oso, who is Lord Van Arend’s liege lord, looks anything but friendly.

  Van Arend stands.

  In seconds, we are all standing, too. Lord Van Arend moves down the bleachers, and the sun hits his sunglasses just right. I get a glimpse of his eyes. He is tired. Not simply a lack-of-sleep tired, but bone-deep exhausted. His shoulders stoop. Whatever strength he has, he is using it to introduce his son and Heir to El Oso.

  My heart weighs heavy. I hope Zaragoza can find a cure for whatever is ailing Aiden’s dad. It would be so unfair for Aiden and Callum to have to take full responsibility of Muiderkring West so quickly, so young. It’d be terrible for Aiden to lose his dad.

  Van Arend bows his head when he gets to El Oso. If I strain my ears, I can just hear the conversation. Everyone must be doing the same thing, for there isn’t a sound from the crowd of ravens, eagles, and bears that fill the fairgrounds.

  “You don’t look well, Eagle,” El Oso peers down at Lord Van Arend.

  “A small cold,” Van Arend responds.

  “Are you sure?” El Oso’s gaze slides to Lord Van Arend’s hands, which are encased in black gloves. Even from this distance I can see his fingers shaking.

  “It took some effort to rid ourselves of the rebellion,” Van Arend says.

  “I can see that.” El Oso waves Lady Heather forward again. “Maybe Lady Heather can help you.”

  “You are magnanimous, El Oso,” Van Arend says. “But I have a warlock.”

  Zaragoza. My gaze flies to the old badger who sits near Zan’s parents. His forehead is creased, his eyes in shadow. I’m surprised he’s even here at all, but I guess it speaks to the power of the Order that everyone must show up.

  “Ah yes, Zaragoza.” El Oso raises his shoulders. There’s something in the way he says Zaragoza’s name that puts a knot in my stomach. Like El Oso has already made some decision about our warlock. The giant bear lets his shoulders drop. “It never hurts to get a second opinion,” he says.

  Lady Heather looks at Van Arend as if she’s reading him with her eyes, or her nose, or some sense that I can’t quite fathom. Her robe sinks even deeper into darkness, and I can swear there is an amethyst glow coming out of her half-lidded eyes. Callum steps between Van Arend and Heather, interrupting whatever scan she was doing on Aiden’s dad.

  El Oso is as unmoving as a mountain, but Callum has his attention.

  “You are the new Ridder,” he says. “Declan’s grandson.”

  Callum simply nods.

  “Now that we’ve met on common ground,” Aiden says, “it’s probably best if we adjourn to the manor. The last large gathering of shifters here garnered some attention.”

  “Yes. That was handled poorly.” El Oso’s eyes rest on Aiden, and his lips thin with disappointment.

  “We’ve had many changes recently,” Aiden says. “It’s not unusual after such recent upsets were thrust upon us.”

  “Well, hopefully, you will be able to make a decent show of the Debut,” he says. They turn away and head towards the entrance.

  My gut wrenches. The Debut. It’s in two days. It sinks in like a stone. I have forty-eight hours to figure out how to shift into a raven again.

  The Ravensgaard around us begin to disperse.

  “What happens at the Debut?” I ask. “What are we going to have to do?”

  “It’s a debutante ball.” Zan sidles up next to us. Her curls bob as she quickly shakes her head. “We’re going to get all dressed up and be presented to the Muiderkring; to Lord Van Arend and El Oso.”

  “Where have you been?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be with Aiden?”

  Zan frowns at the mention of Aiden. “No. I brought Zaragoza.”

  “Did he find anything?” I ask hopefully.

  “No.”

  The word sinks down my throat, choking me. “We’ve got two days!”

  “I know.” Zan’s voice hisses out through her teeth. “We’re trying.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “It’s just—”

  “It’s just nothing, Shae,” Zan snaps. “You figure out your part, how to turn into a raven. Zaragoza and I will continue looking for the binding spell and also try to figure out why you’re a nuvervel in the first place.”

  Before I can respond, she’s moving through the crowd of shifters. By the time she gets to the other side, she’s a coyote, racing up the hill and into the scrub bushes.

  “This isn’t going well,” I mutter to Roman, but he’s just staring after her his face a twisted knot of pain. “Roman?” I gently touch his arm.

  “C’mon, let’s go to the Sanctuary,” he says. “Or, what’s left of it. We’ve gotta figure out how to get you into a raven again. That’s gotta be easier than the rest of this mess.”

  I want to hug him, but he’s already moving towards the fairgrounds entrance. Never in my life have I ever heard Roman sound so discouraged.

  9

  Roman leads the way as we hike up the canyon towards the Sanctuary. “After the Debut, you have a formal meeting with El Oso and Lady Heather,” he says.

  “Who is that woman?” I ask.

  “Her real name is super complicated. I don’t even know it,
but she’s the youngest daughter of Lord Kusama, who rules Muiderkring East. They’re a panther clan from the island of Java, Indonesia.”

  “She’s a long way from home.”

  “Yeah,” Roman agrees. “Lord Kusama was forced to give her to El Oso, to prove his allegiance.”

  “Give her to him? Isn’t that like slavery?” How is something like that even possible in this day and age?

  “Not in the shifter world. It’s more like they used to do before. You know, a lord would foster his child with a neighboring lord to ensure loyalty,” Roman explains.

  “Foster?” I ask. “How long has she been with him?”

  Roman shrugs. “I don’t know. A long time. I think since like the late seventies or something. Forever. There was a big blow up. I don’t know what it’s about. El Oso has been searching for something and I think for a while Lord Kusama had it, or was looking for it, too, or something. What Balthazar told us is that while he was searching for it, he discovered Lady Heather has some unique powers.”

  “Like Lord Van Arend with the rain song?” I ask.

  “Maybe. I don’t know what her powers are. I mean, you saw her, she’s pretty creepy.”

  “Totally. It looked like she was scanning Lord Van Arend and even me for a bit,” I say, and suddenly it strikes me. “What if she figured out I’m a nuvervel?”

  “She didn’t. If she had, we wouldn’t be up here now,” Roman reassures me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t know if I should feel sorry for her or stay away from her.”

  “Probably both,” Roman says as he ducks under a branch. “Did you see the band on her neck? It’s like the collars the Ravensgaard used on us in the bear cage.”

  “The ones that stopped us from shifting?” I ask.

  “Yeah, only Lady Heather’s collar is permanent.”

  “She can never shift?” My stomach tightens in a thousand knots.

  “Horrid, right?” We climb the barren embankment and survey the charred remains of the Sanctuary.

  “What did she do to deserve that?”

  “Not sure, but I don’t think it was her. I think it was her dad. Got into a big fight with El Oso. I think Lord Van Arend was involved somehow. So, Balthazar didn’t really go into it. But the upshot was that Muiderkring East and West became completely subjugated to Muiderkring South.”