by E Hall
“Well, well, well, it seems like you’ve come crawling back.”
Wind whips from above, dispersing the low-lying clouds. The helicopter pits the ocean’s surface as it hovers over the water before lifting off.
I pull myself onto the deck of the boat, my chest heaving, and my body wrecked. Through the lingering stench of the goblins and the ghostly chill of the pirates, I smell the sweet, yet tart scent of cherries. Maybe I’m dead and have become one of the ghosts—forever taunted by the things I hold dear but can never have again.
Curled on my side, I turn my hand over, examining my skin. It’s paler than usual and every muscle and bone aches. Do ghost pirates feel pain? I slide across the deck and flop onto my back, clutching my chest. I blink the rest of the water from my eyes.
The pirate eyes a lump lying on the deck. “Looks like you both held up your end of the bargain.”
I scramble for Kenna, but the boat lurches and another section falls away.
Chapter 7
Kenna
My mother stands above me in bright contrast to the remains of the ship. My father, a flickering form, is next to her. They smile at me. When Melchior summoned that great wave, I thought I was done for. No amount of magic could keep me from drowning.
Yet here I am. Water drips from my hair. I can wiggle my toes. A seagull laments in the distance. Everything about the world is still startlingly alive. And so am I.
I push to my feet and rush into their arms, realizing this isn’t the end, not yet. “Where were you? What happened? Why isn’t Dad dissolving like the other ghosts when he gets wet?” I ask.
“The bits of me from before the curse hung in there.” My dad winks.
“Does that mean the curse was broken?”
My mother nods. “Pepper was very brave. However, in the wave, I lost the scepter—the fake. It was our only leverage.”
Tightness grips my chest. “We were so close,” I whisper.
The pirate captain chuckles. “So endearing and convenient to have the three of you here. I can’t say I’ve ever had the privilege of a vampire aboard. I’ll take the full name of the woman, now that I’ve got the boy, Corbin, was it? As you can see, the vessel and my men require a little reinforcement as we’ve sustained a few losses.”
“They weren’t part of the bargain, Crowbeard,” a male voice says from behind. Corbin gets to his feet. Water drips from his hulking frame as he steps carefully forward on what’s left of the slippery deck.
I’m about to rush into his arms, but the ghost pirate captain thrusts his sword between us. I’m met with a bone penetrating chill.
The captain glowers. “The fine print. You desperate fools never read the fine print.”
“No, but I have,” my mother says. “You were promised a fae.”
I fear she means my father. I start to shift, and growl, “No!”
Captain Crowbeard spins around and angles the sword point at my throat. “I thought there was something peculiar about the girl. I saw her sing the cry of the fae. And it turns out that she’s also a wolf. I knew I’d struck a good bargain.” A smile peels back on his lips.
“Never mind, Crowbeard.” My father shakes his head. “I’ll take her place.”
“No,” I whisper as the icicle-like blade freezes me.
The remains of the ghost ship are little more than a giant raft, lifted a few feet out of the water.
Another great wave splashes against it, dousing the deck. I trip and slide, catching hold of the rigging. I wrap my arm around a rope.
Crowbeard deftly dodges the water. “It’s a shame we weren’t able to embark upon our adventures, but a deal is a deal.”
The sky at his back clusters with amethyst and pewter clouds. The ocean, already pulsing with ferocity buzzes and crackles.
From overhead, a shadow crosses the deck. A massive, glimmering, pearly, scaly belly lowers with a swoop. Dragon-Pepper roars and whoops then dips low enough for us to scramble onto her back.
As we fly away, I want to laugh and cry and cackle. Instead, I holler, “So long, suckers!”
Pepper takes flight as the sun rises over the horizon.
The dragon delivers us to the beach where we drop onto the sand as she makes a very rough landing. Shifting back into physical form, Pepper brushes off. “I have to work on that.”
We all clap and cheer.
“Thank you for the daring rescue,” I say.
Corbin wraps me in a hug and breathes deep. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I squeeze him back, sinking into his embrace. “You too.”
When we part, I walk over to my parents.
The quiet in my father’s gray eyes tells me how sorry he is for all that’s happened. “Our wonderful, brave daughter, thank you for trusting me,” he says.
My mother nods and then pulls me into a hug. My stomach betrays the sentimental moment with a growl. “I’m in the mood for doughnuts, how about you?” she says.
Greyson flickers. “It’s time for me to return to Lonsdale,” he says. “When you come home, I’ll tell you all about Alister’s visit.”
My mom squeezes his hand. “Be there soon.”
“Wait. What happened to Melchior?”
“He took the fake scepter and disappeared into the ocean,” Clove says from among the crowd of the male fae.
“What?” I ask even though I heard him clearly enough. “This isn’t the happy ending I hoped for. I imagined we’d sail off into the sunset, or hike up the Montmartres and do whatever we needed to do to restore peace.” Despair seeps through my veins. “Can’t we do something?”
Greyson grips Clove’s shoulder and mine. “You both finished what I started. You removed Melchior from power by lifting the spell. Clove, it’s time you take your place as the next fae king.”
Clove’s lips twitch.
I watch carefully for a smile. It doesn’t come.
“The role must be filled, but not by me. I ask one of the male fae who were banished to take the throne and find a worthy queen—one who wants to be consort. I forgo my place because there is a certain dragon shifter I’d like to spend the rest of my life with.” At that, the clouds seem to part. At last, Clove smiles.
Pepper rushes into his arms and they fall into the sand.
“She doesn’t know her strength since she synthesized,” he says with a groan as if his ribs are being crushed.
“Oh, sorry about that,” says Pepper, my petite but mighty friend.
I let out a shaky breath. “But Melchior is still out there. We don’t have the scepter.”
Corbin squeezes my hand, assuring me. “We’ll get the scepter back.”
“And we have the stones,” Pepper adds.
I bite my lip as uncertainty lingers in my mind, my bones, and the tip of my tongue. Since singing the cry of the fae, since seeking out Melchior the song hasn’t left me. It’s like something binds me to him. I figured it would disappear when the curse broke, but it echoes in my head like the shush of the now-calm waves against the rocky shore in the background.
I squeeze Corbin’s hand back because I’m afraid the uncertainty will consume me.
“We’ll find it someday soon and restore peace,” Corbin repeats as if sensing my trepidation.
I just hope that someday isn’t leagues and leagues away.
The whirring blades of a helicopter blaze across the sky. Looking up, I shield my eyes. It lowers to the beach as everyone gathers—the forest fae, the male fae, Clove, and Pepper. Along with my mom, the betas, and the rest of the pack.
Even surrounded by friends and family, what I’ve always wanted, I stand on the beach, feeling somehow alone. The pulse of magic and voices rises and falls around me, rejoicing, celebrating. Melchior may no longer in power, but that doesn’t mean he can’t continue to torment us.
I watch the waves, wishing one would wash last night away. One wave to make me forget the song. One wave to bring me back to myself.
The last days, weeks, and months h
ave thrown me. Even though I said yes to this magical life, I still feel off, restless. The fae and wolf inside vie for equal footing.
Laughter choruses all around. I need to do something, to find the scepter, replace the stones, and restore peace, but for now, I let the merriment carry me back to the moment.
But before it does, I scan the horizon, making a promise as much to myself as to Melchior.
I won’t give up. I will finish this.
Later, we gather at Lonsdale. My mother tears off the sheets covering the old furniture and throws open the windows.
We’re celebrating with a barbeque. The wolves handle the grill outside. The forest fae bring desserts I’ve never seen—sugared berries, cream-filled pastries, and ornate cakes dotted with pearls. A sight I never expected unfolds at my house.
My parents are together—a vamp and a ghost. Their love was forbidden from the beginning but now they’re free.
In the parlor, the fae and wolves intermingle, chatting and getting to know each other. Many memories have returned since the curse lifted, old friends have been reunited, and other magicals have emerged from hiding now that Melchior is supposedly out of the picture.
The thing is, I don’t feel like he is. I glance over my shoulder as though expecting his bearded figure to fill the doorway. I fear that when I run in the woods with the wolves, I’ll be expecting him to appear from behind a tree—the leaves have finally fallen even though it’s nearly Christmas.
On the way over here, I took a nap. My meadow dream has been replaced by me wandering alone, drifting toward a fae song that whispers eerily through a murky forest.
A hand lands heavily on my shoulder. I smell tweed.
“When is Pepper going to get you to wear a hoodie or something?” I ask my brother.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “As soon as she supplies me with daily doughnuts.”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. The doughnuts are mine.”
We laugh and joke, drawing back to the moment.
Corbin interrupts, bringing me a steak. The fae and wolf have equally hungry appetites. Corbin made a rule, protein before sweets, and I obey his Alpha.
We sit at one of many lounge areas—this house is a far cry from the teeny apartments with second hand furniture that my mom and I always lived in she’s definitely in her element. My ears attune to my mother’s voice, rising and falling, as she and my father reminisce about the days when they’d entertain.
But my attention lands on my mate. Despite my misgivings about the former fae king, this wolf shifter owns my heart.
The late afternoon light glints through the stained glass. I think of our time in the secret room, searching for answers, the Klave, and the scepter.
Corbin nudges me with his shoulder. “Are the Triad Jewels burning a hole in your pocket?”
“You caught me red-handed.”
“Even with all these pastries?” He points to a buffet table.
“You’ve been obsessing over the scepter. We’ll find it. No matter what Melchior does, we’re now more powerful. Stronger together, right? We have the fae, the wolves, the vamps—your mom said she invited them but they couldn’t make it on such short notice.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think blood was on the menu, otherwise they would’ve been here in a heartbeat.” He winks.
A little laugh escapes.
“Oh, and don’t forget about the dragon. No matter what Melchior does, he cannot boast being backed by arguably the most powerful magical in existence.”
“Are dragons really the most powerful?”
Corbin nods. “My entire magical education came flooding back when the curse of forgetting lifted.”
“You went to magical school?”
“Riptivik Academy,” Corbin says proudly.
I falter, wondering if he had a high school sweetheart. As always, his wolf senses my emotions and his lips land on my temple. “Only you, babe. Forever and always.”
I lace my arms around his neck. “There are a lot of things I’m not sure of, but I’m definitely sure about us.”
We exchange a quick kiss. I don’t exactly want my parents to see me making out with my mate.
“So, speaking of forever and always, what do you say we make good on that engagement ring?”
“You mean this one?” I ask, flashing it in his direction. “As it just so happens to be a jewel of immense power, I might have to ask for a replacement. Then I’ll agree to tie the knot.” I flutter my lashes flirtatiously.
Corbin tosses his head back and laughs. “Anything you want, babe.”
I suck in my cheeks. “Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not one of those girls who needs a giant rock.”
“Even if you were, I’d love you anyway, but I promise to re-propose to you by Christmas.” He winks.
I nod, doing everything I can to not clobber him with kisses. “In that case, I think New Year’s Eve would be the perfect day to say I do.”
Chapter 8
Corbin
When the celebration feast quiets down, we’ve had our fill, and the fae return to the forest, the betas in my pack gather around the fire along with Pepper, and Clove.
A few of the male fae sit in the corner of the room, apparently not quite ready to integrate. I don’t blame them. If I had a king who killed all male wolves and then had someone in the room hunt down the survivors, forcing me to live in hiding for years, I’d probably feel the same way.
“There he is,” I call when Baker enters the room. “Thought we’d lost you to the briny deep.”
He hides a smirk. “Thanks to my pack, and the excellent flying abilities of Camilla here, I managed to survive.”
“It was a team effort,” Camilla says, beaming a smile at her boyfriend.
“Though the ghost pirates were chilling. Literally. Never came across them before,” Baker says, warming up by the fire.
I don’t want to say that I’m a softy because I’m totally Alpha, but having my wolves by my side right now brings me immense comfort along with Kenna. I string my arm over her shoulder and squeeze. For a while there, I thought I’d lost her to Melchior.
The great hearth blazes. I thank everyone for their help again—Kenna and I had already offered our gratitude to everyone earlier, before we chowed down. I sent the subordinate wolves back to Headquarters to take care of things at home.
Jackie and Grayson enter with trays of tea and coffee to cap off the night.
“So, how did the helicopter become part of this rescue mission?” Clove leans leisurely against the wall by the door—likely, he’s not completely comfortable in a room full of wolves. “Nice flying by the way.” He raises his teacup to Camilla.
“Thank you. Turns out I have a talent for it,” she replies.
Most beta wolves have special abilities, for Camilla, it turns out she has quick reflexes, amazing math skills, and the ability to navigate without her feet on the ground. Maybe it somehow translates from her calming presence.
“Back up. Let’s start when Kenna jumped overboard off the ghost pirate ship,” Inga says. “I want to hear this story from the beginning.”
My mate flashes me an apologetic look then catches everyone up on what brought us there, including our outstanding debt to the ghost pirates.
“You were searching for the six former fae queens?” Jackie asks with an air of surprise. She turns to Greyson with a lifted eyebrow.
“I came up with multiple contingencies for how one might break the curse. Unfortunately, I was too late in executing them, passing them along to Kenna and her capable friends.” Greyson nods at us all.
“Dad, next time leave clearer instructions, please. Not that I want a next time.”
“Back to the fae queens, I’ve never heard of them,” Inga says.
“The real question is how did Melchior remain king for so long? Isn’t there supposed to be a new one every hundred years?” Jackie follows up.
“Unless you’re greedy, tricky, and evil, yes,” I say
.
“In other words Melchior,” Avril says from the doorway.
Kenna jumps up from her chair and practically knocks our beta wolf over with a hug. “Where have you been? I was worried.”
Avril’s expression flickers like she’s going to laugh at the absurdity of someone being worried about her. She was a lone wolf and had a tough life before she joined Pack Hjalmor.
“Sorry, I’m late. I didn’t get the message that there’s a den meeting that’s not at the den with people who aren’t part of the pack,” Avril says dryly.
Kenna introduces everyone to our surliest wolf, but the smile she cracks in my direction tells me she’s glad we’re not dead.
“So who’s the new fae king?” she asks.
Everyone gazes at Clove for the answer. “His name is Cassian. One of the male fae.”
“What will he do if Melchior returns?” Avril asks sharply.
“Ask him yourself,” Clove says, gesturing to one of the fae in the corner of the room.
A tall, regal fae with alert eyes and cheekbones cut from marble stands up. If he registered that Avril was challenging him slightly, he doesn’t acknowledge it.
However, her cheeks take on a flirtatious shade of pink. I may have just witnessed love at first sight—or in this magical world, a fated mate match.
“If Melchior shows himself, if he attempts to touch a hair on a fae’s head, we will meet him with the fiery heat of a thousand suns kept in the dark for nearly twenty years.”
“Suns or sons?” Kenna asks.
Fiery magic licks Cassian’s fingertips and dances between his hands. Apparently, he has some pent up energy. Fae magic typically looks like blasts of electricity or lightning, but his is a straight-up inferno.
“Right. Suns,” Kenna mumbles.
Cassian sits back down. It was kind of a mic drop moment for the newbie. I have a feeling he’ll make a better king than Melchior.
The only sound in the room is the cracking of the logs in the fire. It casts shadows on the wall that mimic the change in mood. The candles in the sconces on the wall gutter.