Fanged Fury (The Adventures of Sydney Sedrick Book 3)

by Mandi Casey

Arms went up in the air. The men and women pumped their fists as they cheered the man in the middle on with whoops, hollers, and howls. The man who had all of their attention was significantly bigger than the rest. He sported long blond hair that somehow shone like golden rays of the sun despite the moon being the only source of light coming through the tall trees.

  His chest was bare with well-defined muscles. As he raised his bulging arms, the group grew quiet once again.

  “This is not over. We may have extinguished another coven, but there are many more out there. The bloodsuckers breed like the disgusting corpses in a B-rated zombie movie.”

  Another round of cheers filled the night, but this time a few of the braver wolves stepped up, calling their leader to action. They craved more spilled blood that very night.

  The blond leader took an aggressive step toward the challengers. It was clear he didn’t like being spoken to by his subordinates in such a fashion.

  “Listen with care. Mind your willful tongues lest I bite them off with my teeth.” The wolves who had spoken shuffled back into the crowd, disintegrating from the man’s sight.

  “There is another, more pressing, matter we must attend to.”

  Others called out, asking what their leader commanded.

  The blond nodded, feigning a compassionate understanding for the other wolves, relishing in their desire for blood. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing I can’t handle. The matter of the Selected is calling us to attention. The Midwestern Werewolf Pack has slacked in their duties of the Selected’s care. We intend on rectifying the problem soon.”

  With that, the pack broke out into a wolf pack’s version of celebrating. Some went on all fours, others danced in the night and roughhoused with one another.

  A can of gasoline came from somewhere behind the trees and a lanky wolf who didn’t appear to bathe on a regular basis dug into the front pocket of his jeans to produce a book of matches. Once the pile of dried wood was formed into a pyramid-shaped structure, a generous amount of gas was poured onto it. The wolf then struck a match and lit the pile.

  I felt the hot whoomf sensation as flames exploded into the night, illuminating the wolves encased by a ring of mature trees casting tall human-like shadows.

  My body began to waver as I held my arms in front of me. The vision was ending. My essence was being pulled from the vision plane, back to my reality at the store.

  The sting from the cold metal of the safe against my back brought me out of the haze clouding my brain. Opening my eyes, I shook my head from side-to-side. A throbbing pain echoed in my skull like an underserved hangover. Unfortunately, the benefits of being the Selected also came with painful aftereffects.

  Turning, I grabbed the edge of the safe to hoist myself off the floor of the storeroom. I didn’t know the timeline of the vision—one of the downfalls of having them—but my guess was that the wolf gathering had to have occurred within the last month. The blond man, who was gorgeous in a rough, bad-boy way, had mentioned Blake’s pack and me, the Selected. The man had something to do with the pack that’d contacted Morris about the rogue count in the city of Kenosha.

  Blake knew his pack was going to be monitored by a member of the Mobile, Alabama, werewolf pack. Nothing I could tell him about the vision would be new information. I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do, to not tell Blake about the vision, but I was still reveling in the fact he had left me alone the entire day. It was a first that he had not made an appearance at the store. I was getting tired having to hear his opinions on every aspect of my life.

  Unfortunately, I missed him.

  A lot.

  The smell of cheesy garlic bread baking in the oven met me at the front door of Aunt Judith’s house. I would live there, too, for as long as I lived, per tradition of the Selected, but it would always be Aunt Judith’s house, even after she passed away.

  I bit back my fear and forced a smile to my face as I hung my black wool coat on the antique rack standing at attention next to the front door. I carried my purse into the kitchen.

  Aunt Judith’s face lifted into a smile when she saw me walk through the door. The table was set for two. She carried a large bowl of old-style spaghetti to the table, setting it in the center so we could each dish up.

  My aunt had the amazing ability to make all the stressors of the day vanish through her cooking. I was seriously spoiled because she had dinner waiting for me almost every night when I got home from closing Morning Sun. I thought it might be that she was grateful I had took such a liking to the store, making it so she no longer had to run it all by herself.

  The truth was, I would have gladly eaten take-out every night if it still gave me the chance to run the store and prove myself to the family. It meant a lot to me. I was proud at the little changes—what I hoped were improvements—I’d made to help streamline the store. I worked hard to get more cash-spending customers to come into Morning Sun on a more regular basis.

  “Mmm, Aunt Judith, your spaghetti smells divine.” The timer on the oven went off. I jumped out of my seat, putting my hand out to her before she could get out of her chair. “No, please, let me do it.”

  Aunt Judith gave me a warm, appreciative smile as she sat back in her chair while she put a small portion of the spaghetti onto her plate, waiting for me to cut the cheese bread.

  I eyed the tiny portion sizes on her plate but didn’t have the heart to quiz her on her eating habits. Studying her closely, I noticed her collarbones sticking out the top of her nightgown, more prominent than I’ve ever noticed before. She was losing weight.

  Was it the stress? Watching while she tore off a hunk of cheesy bread from the large slice I had put on her plate, I noticed it took a lot of effort for her to do such a lightweight task. My heart panged with guilt. Something was going on with my aunt, but I wanted to give her privacy for now. She didn’t seem to want to talk about her health, and out of respect for her I didn’t want to push. If she didn’t confide in me soon, though, I felt like my heart would burst from worry. Keeping my nose out of someone’s business, someone that I loved, wasn’t my specialty. I’d have to confront her if she took too long in telling me.

  Aunt Judith swallowed a bite of spaghetti and said, “So, dear, how was work today?”

  I gave her a smile despite feeling the urge to cry. “It was fine. Brianna called. She said she and Michael plan on coming up for the weekend, but Kieran sent a summons for Saturday.”

  Her eyebrows shot up in question. From the faint giggle that escaped her lips before she covered her mouth with her frail hand, I could have sworn she found my scheduling conflict more amusing than I did. “Sydney, whatever will you do?”

  I tilted my head, giving her a stern look, chastising her like a mother would her child. “Aunt Judith, you find this funny, don’t you?”

  I held my breath, trying not to laugh.

  Her eyes lit up, the skin around them crinkling while she gave in. The sound of her laughing filled my soul with warmth. I gave in, laughing along with her.

  “I suppose we have to find the good in all this, don’t we?” She still wore a smile as she twirled another bite-sized bit of noodles covered in sauce around her fork.

  I glanced down at my plate, realizing I had already eaten twice as much as Aunt Judith, plus two hearty pieces of cheese bread. Full from dinner and content at seeing Aunt Judith happy for the first time in quite a while, I stood up to clear the dishes from the table. I finished putting them in the dishwasher—which was one of the best inventions of all time, besides the microwave—while Aunt Judith sipped her tea.

  “Aunt Judith, I’m not sure how I should take you using my troubles as fodder for your amusement,” I teased.

  I jumped when she placed a warm hand on my shoulder, startling her in the process. I turned toward her to make sure she was all right. That’s when I saw he
r place her hand over her heart. Dread bloomed darkness inside my own chest as she leaned against the counter for support, struggling to catch her breath.

  Placing my hand on her elbow, I helped her back to the kitchen chair. “Aunt Judith, what is going on?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been getting an occasional twinge in my chest, but I don’t think it’s serious.”

  I put a finger on her wrist, checking her pulse. It took me a minute to feel the beating against my touch. Her pulse was strong and regular, so what was going on?

  Aunt Judith patted my cheek. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m as strong as an ox. Now, help this old lady to bed, I’m tired.”

  “Aunt Judith, if something was going on with you and your health, you would tell me right away?”

  She smiled lovingly and patted my cheek with her warm hand. “Yes, darling, I will. But for now, I don’t want you worrying about me. You’ve got bigger worries to chew on.”

  The light, playful mood from dinner had long retreated, replaced by a fresh smack of reality that Aunt Judith’s life wasn’t to be taken for granted. At that moment I made a decision. No longer was I going to let the vampires and werewolves push us around and interfere with our lives. The idea was fine, but I would have to figure out how to make that happen.

  Tucking her into bed under the floral-patterned comforter Grandma Sky had adored, Aunt Judith fell sound asleep before I turned her nightstand light off. I kissed her cheek before easing the door closed behind me.

  Upstairs in my room, I checked my phone. I smiled, despite my worrying about Aunt Judith’s health. Blake texted me. SORRY FOR GETTING UPSET. I JUST GET PROTECTIVE SOMETIMES. LIFE-MATE, YOU DRIVE ME NUTS.

  Grabbing Grandma’s journal from under my mattress, I tossed the book, along with my phone, onto the bed. After washing my face and brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I snuggled in beneath my own comforter. Picking my phone back up, I stared at Blake’s message for a while before responding. Being torn and love struck weren’t nearly strong enough words to describe what I was feeling.

  My chest felt heavy with love for Blake, a love beyond forbidden. Never before moving to Kenosha had I thought I’d meet the man of my dreams. Blake was pushy and overbearing, but that could be worked on. He cared for his family with a fierceness I respected. He was fun to be around, when he wasn’t trying to initiate the life-mate bond, and our friendship held great importance to me. Truly being with Blake would mean turning my back on the vampires, the people that had been so important to my grandmother, people who had become important to me. More than that, the vampires and werewolves would use my being with Blake as a reason to wage another all-out war between them. My conscience weighed heavy on my thoughts. I couldn’t think about being with Blake without contemplating the aftermath sure to follow between the Others.

  I wouldn’t allow them to use me to kill one another.

  Closing my phone, I stared until the neon light on the front of the screen went blank. Someday I would figure out what to do. Until then, I wouldn’t make any final decisions.

  Grabbing Grandma’s journal, I began to read.

  Dear Granddaughter, You may find yourself overwhelmed at times. I know I certainly did. Being the Selected is full of responsibilities, many of which you will abhor at times, and other times? You’ll love the gifts you have been given by divine choice.

  You see, the vampires and werewolves may have their prophecies, but the Selected comes with knowledge passed on only from one Selected down to the next.

  The Selected is not one female at a time, but four.

  What? There were four Selecteds in the world? Questions bombarded my brain. Why hadn’t I been told this before? I kept reading, hoping to find out more about my Selected sisters.

  This information is not well known to the vampires and werewolves. I never told my beloved Kieran. I feared he would alert the Elders to their existence.

  Unfortunately, the Selecteds are not able to tolerate being in the same city as one another.

  The reason is twofold why I have not revealed their existence to the vampires. The Selecteds are in faraway lands. They possess their own sets of problems without having to deal with the ones we have here in Kenosha. The other reason is because, regardless of the truth, the vampires and wolves would seek the women out to fulfill their prophecies. What they would not be able to accept or understand is that once a Selected leaves their birth-land that they are bound to oversee, their Selected gene becomes inactive. Should a Selected ever find themselves in your area, their blood would be rendered inactive, meaning they would not be able to fulfill the prophecies of either the wolves or the vampires.

  Speaking of prophecies, both the wolves and vampires will do anything they can to keep the absolute truth about them and your part in their fulfillment from you. Dear daughter of my daughter, the prophecies are written in layers. I’ve only begun to scratch their surfaces.

  Trust me, prying information from a vampire or werewolf when they don’t want to give it is near impossible.

  Closing the journal, I set it next to me on the bed while staring across the room out into the night. There were four Selecteds. Scattered so far because we couldn’t be anywhere near each other. Talk about design flaws. Then another thought crossed my mind. Maybe it was survival instinct that we had to stay away, ensuring we remain in our areas taking care of whatever it was we were supposed to?

  Already having figured out that part of my purpose as the Selected in Kenosha was to design a way to make the vampires and werewolves live peaceably in the same town, I realized the benefit of making the Selecteds stand clear of each other. If there were only four, it would not serve well to have them all in one place. Whoever the creator of our Selected abilities was, they had sights on a bigger plan. I just wished I knew what that plan was.

  Pushing the blankets away, I dragged the chair to the window. Staring out into the night, I admired the twinkling stars. The thin slice of moon high in the sky lit the night with a soft, eerie glow.

  The information from Grandma’s journal put me in a state of awe, but it also posed more questions than answers. What did she mean about the prophecies being layered? Kieran and Blake both disclosed what their prophecies entailed, but what her journal said made me think they were both withholding key details.

  Pulling my knees up to my chest, I placed my arms around them to ward off the chill in the room. Grandma was right, at least in part. There wasn’t anyone is my new, bizarre life that I could fully trust. She must not have had as much faith in Aunt Judith as I did. She was indeed someone who deserved to be trusted, more so than anyone else, including my own mother.

  Thinking of my mother, I cringed. It was better that she lived far enough away to keep her from meddling in my life, now that I knew I was the Selected. I wasn’t so sure she would be a big part of my life even if she lived in town. She wasn’t when I lived back home in Chicago.

  The truth of what the journal revealed made my decision about Blake more complicated than it already was. It was obvious they were both hiding information from me, but was one of the vampires or werewolves more justified in doing so than the other? I couldn’t say for sure either way. I was determined to do more than just scratch the surface of their layered prophecies as Grandma said she had done.

  If Blake truly believed we were life-mates, then he would have to participate in full disclosure.

  I was tired of being left in the dark.

  It was time for this girl to play a little hardball.

  Chapter 4

  The door chimes jingled while I teetered on an old rickety ladder, dusting the top shelves holding the more ancient tomes in the store. Even though they were heavy and cumbersome, not many customers asked to see them. Besides their size, the hefty price tags made them less likely to be purchased. So I decided to keep them
away from those who were just curious about the Celtic arts. The contents of the tomes revealed powerful spells. People who didn’t know what they were doing shouldn’t be aware that they even existed.

  Whoever came through the door wasn’t a werewolf, because the store temperature didn’t grow warmer. It wasn’t a vamp because it was way too sunny out. I couldn’t see the front of the store, but I could tell the person was an Other because whoever it was gave off a buzzing sensation.

  “Where oh where is my little Selected hiding?” Kasdeya’s sarcastic voice filled the otherwise empty store. She was a Judge, one of the vampire king’s demon assassins.

  Great, now what trouble was she interested in causing? “I’m over here. I’ll be down in a second.” I climbed down the ladder, one rung at a time, hoping the wooden legs stayed in place until I reached the floor.

  Making it all the way down with both feet on solid ground, I blew out a sigh, not realizing I was holding my breath the entire way down. I turned to find the demon standing so close to me a scream stuck in my throat. “Demon, don’t do that again.”

  Kasdeya stood, pinning me between her and the ladder. I sidestepped around her to put distance between us. King Alexander wouldn’t let his servant hurt me, at least not in the current stage of the grand scheme, not that I knew what the game was about.

  But I would.

  Her sneer didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy toward her. She smiled, exposing the silver, razor-sharp teeth lining her jaw. “Selected, do I scare you?”

  Ignoring her question, I went over to the register. Taking a seat behind the counter, I said, “So, Kasdeya, what evil intentions bring you to my humble store? You don’t seem like the type that needs spells or totems to help focus your energies. So what gives?”

  The demon stepped to the center of the store where the sun shone through the windows of the front door. The sunlight caressed her skin, making the silver patterns along her black-as-coal skin appear iridescent. The patterns thrived and shifted, soaking up every ray.