by S. M. Reine
“Then maybe you can point me in the direction of more helpful books,” Elise said through her teeth, trying to speak as nicely as possible. “There must be something.”
He knuckled his spectacles, pushing them in front of his beady eyes again. “I will think about it.”
Elise dug her fingernails into her kneecaps.
“Thank you,” she bit out.
She moved to stand, but Paimon spoke. “Onoskelis was working in the lower stacks before her departure. She left quite a few of the books in the study room.” A knobby finger pointed toward one of the higher floors. “It will be a nuisance to sort them myself. I’m not sure I’ll get around to it today.” His lipless mouth curved at the corners. “Tomorrow, perhaps.” And then he returned his attention to his papers.
The door to the study room was locked. Fortunately, Elise’s back was inked with the marks required to unlock every single door in the Palace. She only had to jiggle the handle to open it.
There was a cheap torchiere just inside the study room. Elise didn’t need to check to know it wouldn’t be plugged in to anything. It still turned on when she twisted the knob on its side.
Gold light illuminated a cramped room with almost every inch of floor space occupied by tables. The last time that Elise had been in there, she had found Onoskelis restoring old scrolls. The room had been tidy aside from the tools required for the task.
Now the room was filled with towers of books.
Elise edged in sideways. Her hip bumped a stack and sent the top half sliding to the ground. She took care not to step on anything as she squeezed between the tables.
This kind of disorder was sacrilege to the Palace librarians. Onoskelis never would have pulled out so many books at once, never would have stacked them so precariously, never would have allowed important books to sit unattended. Paimon must have been lying. This had to be the work of someone else.
She flipped open the cover of a nearby book. Her heart sped.
Its title page had a warlock rune on it.
Elise fanned through the pages, her excitement quickly turning to dread. The entire book was written in that language she didn’t recognize, just like the last one, and its wealth of runes was useless to her.
She tossed the book aside and picked up another. It was the same.
Onoskelis had supported Elise. The librarian had left everything she needed to learn warlock magic within her grasp.
But she couldn’t read a single page of it.
Elise dropped onto the stool, cradling her head in her hands. She shut her eyes against the hunger migraine clamped on her skull. She didn’t have time to study all of these books—not with the army to organize and Houses to bring to heel.
She’d have to ask Gerard to find a demon that could read that strange, archaic language. She didn’t doubt he’d be happy to add that to his lengthy to-do list. He could place it solidly at the bottom, below all the more life-threatening items at the top.
No big deal.
Elise opened her eyes and realized that there was a yellow sticky note attached to the book right in front of her nose.
Surprise washed over Elise. It was an actual sticky note, the kind she could have bought at Office Depot, with writing on it that looked like it might have come from an ordinary ballpoint pen.
She peeled it off the cover, tilting it toward the light so she could read it.
“Hi Elise. Check your email. -B”
Three
THE WEREWOLF KNEELING in front of Rylie didn’t deserve even a second of her attention. Abel was ready to rip his fucking head off and drop kick it down the waterfall. The pack could play volleyball with it in the lake below.
But Rylie was more than patient. She actually looked sympathetic.
“Tell me how it happened,” she said.
Abel couldn’t help himself. “He was an irresponsible fuckwad, that’s how it happened.”
Rylie shot him an admonishing look, although the hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. He would never stop loving the fact that she smiled at him like that. “Thanks, Abel.”
“I wasn’t irresponsible,” Felton said. He didn’t look as nervous as he should have. He was on his knees with his head appropriately bowed, so his posture was as submissive as possible. But there wasn’t fear in him.
None of the werewolves feared Rylie, and they should have.
Abel was fixing to do something about that.
“Let me guess,” Abel growled. “You were with this—this Scion, this former slave—and you were getting all hot and heavy, and your teeth just accidentally ripped into her shoulder.”
The flush of embarrassment that poured off of Felton said that Abel was close to the truth. “That’s not how it—”
“Then what? Did you get mad at her? Did you attack her, show her who’s boss?”
“No!” Felton’s eyes flashed. He made the mistake of meeting Abel’s gaze, and he looked pissed. Not submissive.
The Alpha rage took him. In two steps, Abel reached the end of the stage and leaped off, slamming into the werewolf. He shoved Felton’s head to the ground.
Abel half-expected Rylie to yell at him for it, but she didn’t.
“You ruined that Scion’s life,” Abel said, pressing his fingertips into Felton’s scalp. A human head wasn’t that much differently sized from a melon. Abel had crushed melons in his fist before. Just a quick squeeze, and crack—juice everywhere. “You couldn’t have hurt her much worse if you’d tossed her back down into Hell.”
Felton’s face was ruddy. The answer came squeezing out of him. “Deepali asked me to do it.”
“Wait.”
Rylie’s voice cut straight through Abel’s fury. He looked up at her. She had moved to stand on the edge of the stage. She was draped in a white dress that fell to her ankles straight down from her bust, and her blond hair was brushed straight. With blossoms woven into her hair, Rylie looked more like a benevolent goddess of the forest than a werewolf Alpha capable of ripping apart her enemies with her teeth.
“She asked me,” Felton said again. He sounded more urgent now that he had Rylie’s attention. “We talked about it for weeks and I agreed. It wasn’t my idea, it wasn’t an accident—”
Abel pushed harder. “You did it on purpose?”
“Let him up,” Rylie said.
“You heard what he said. He admitted to changing someone deliberately!”
“I know,” she said softly.
Reluctantly, Abel released Felton. The side of his face was caked in mud now.
“I love her,” Felton said, kneeling in front of Rylie again, giving her an imploring look. Abel stood behind him, fuming quietly. “I thought you’d understand, of all people.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Abel asked.
Rylie didn’t tell him to be quiet. Her glance spoke volumes. “Why would Deepali ask you to change her into a werewolf, Felton?”
“So we could be together. Here, at the sanctuary. Always. And because—well, when things crawl out of Hell, the werewolves are the only ones strong enough to stand against them. I mentioned that we were stretched too thin to watch the fissure all the time. She asked me to change her so that there’d be one more wolf to stand guard.” Felton hung his head in embarrassment. “Mostly the love thing.”
This time, the anger clenching in Abel’s gut was mixed with shame. The pack had noticed that they were too weak to properly guard Earth from Hell. Felton had taken the matter into his own hands to change that. It was the ultimate gesture of disrespect.
“Stand up,” Rylie said.
Felton did. She clasped one of his hands in both of hers. “I love her,” he repeated. Now more confident. Certain he was going to get away with it.
“If you love her, you wouldn’t subject her to the change. Abel is right. It’s an awful experience. You’ve changed her life permanently, and not for the better.”
“It’s not awful with you in charge,” Felton said. “It doesn’t hurt. Not
like it used to.”
“I’m in charge?” Rylie squeezed his hand. “Funny for you to mention that, Felton. Because I don’t make a lot of rules, but the one I’ve always been firm about is that werewolves need to die out. We aren’t reproducing.”
“You made Summer.”
Abel took a step toward him before getting control of himself. His hands ached to be wrapped around that werewolf’s throat.
“If you don’t obey me, I’m not going to be Alpha anymore,” Rylie said, her voice still soft, so very gentle. “It’s that easy. One guy disobeys my only laws, and others start doing the same thing. Soon nobody obeys, and I’m not Alpha. You know what happens when I’m not Alpha?” He didn’t answer. “I can’t make the change easier on you. It will be painful for you and for Deepali. For the entire pack.”
Felton pulled his hand free. Rylie allowed it.
“Maybe the problem is that you need to change your rules,” he said. “Deepali’s not the only one who wants to be changed.”
“The rules can’t change,” Rylie said. “But even if they did, you still disobeyed. I can’t allow that.”
“Me neither.” Abel cracked his knuckles.
Felton paled. Stuttered. “If you kick us out, we—we’ll just join another pack.”
“There is no other pack,” Abel said.
Felton turned on him. “Levi said—”
“Levi? Levi?”
That explained everything. Levi was an asshole, and he’d hated Rylie ever since they were in high school. Surviving the end of the world hadn’t changed him. Joining the murderous cult known as the Apple hadn’t changed him, either. He was still an asshole that wanted to be Alpha and thought he could pull it off by being a giant dick.
“Nobody’s leaving the pack,” Rylie said.
Felton sucked in a breath. “I’m not?”
“Can’t leave the pack if you’re dead,” Abel muttered.
“I’m not going to punish a mistake you made out of love.” Her smile was melty-warm, like cookies spreading on a baking sheet in the oven. Pure comfort. “I’ll talk to Deepali. If she really consented, we’ll figure out a way to make her fit with the pack. But I can’t have you changing anyone else. I also can’t have you telling other people that it’s okay.”
“I won’t,” he said, still watching Abel. It was a promise made out of fear, not in response to Rylie’s mercy.
Abel was serious about killing him. Felton knew it, even if Rylie didn’t.
“This isn’t going to be the last time we talk, Felton,” she said. “I can tell that you and I are going to be talking a lot in the next few months as Deepali changes. If I can’t make you see reason, maybe the pain she suffers will put some sense into you.”
“It won’t hurt,” Felton repeated. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” Abel asked. “Have you heard anything Rylie just said? You changed Deepali against Alpha law. You know what that means?”
Felton clearly didn’t. His eyes flicked between Abel and Rylie, looking for salvation that wasn’t coming.
“Deepali’s change is still going to hurt,” Rylie said. “That’s what it means. I won’t be able to control her until three months have passed and the transitory stage is over. She’ll have to go through it all like we did.”
“How do you know?” Felton asked.
Because you’re not the first idiot to go and bite a Scion.
“Please tell Deepali I want to talk to her,” Rylie said. “The moon is coming soon. I should prepare her for it as much as I can.”
Felton couldn’t seem to leave fast enough. He tripped over his own feet heading down the hill again.
As soon as he was gone, Rylie sighed, hugging her arms tightly around her ribcage, as if something hurt her. Abel clambered onto the stage. Pulled her against his chest.
It was a nice day—late spring with the first warmth of summer. The trees were filled with blossoms and ripening fruit. Snowmelt made the waterfall churn and the river flow. He could hear the roar from where they stood. But even though it was warm, Rylie was trembling in his arms.
“It’s only going to keep getting worse,” Abel said.
She buried her face against him. “I know.”
The last werewolf to bite a Scion hadn’t been as lucky as Felton. Rylie and Abel hadn’t found out about it until they were too late to help—the new werewolf had already killed his maker, Toshiko. Worse, Rylie hadn’t been able to control Toshiko’s offspring, who had been only two months into the change and incredibly vicious. Abel had been forced to kill him, too.
That had been in February, just a couple of months earlier. So recently that the pain of losing Toshiko was still raw.
Two dead bodies. One difficult lesson to learn.
Deepali was at risk of doing the same, and Abel could feel in his bones that this was still just the beginning of trouble.
“You shoulda let me kill him,” Abel said.
She traced her fingers along the line of his belt, tickling the skin just underneath his shirt. “I don’t want to be that kind of Alpha. I don’t want everyone to be afraid of us.” She sighed again. “Besides, we can’t just kill people. It’s scary that the idea even occurred to me.”
“Your instincts are telling you how we should do this. You’re Alpha. You’re smarter than you think. Listen to the wolf.”
“My wolf also thinks that eating innocent people is a good idea.”
“Yeah, well, maybe your wolf knows something we don’t.”
Rylie squeezed him once and let go. The spring was making her blossom like the trees; she was bronzed from working in the sunshine. Even worried, she seemed to glow.
“I can’t let the pack reproduce,” she said, “but I don’t know how to stop them, if so many Scions want to join us.”
“Kill them,” Abel said. “Or just kill Levi. He’s the one that’s putting the ideas in their heads.”
“You’re right about that—not the killing, but the fact that it’s Levi.” Her mouth twisted. “If only we could get him out of Northgate…”
Levi Riese had been in residence at St. Philomene’s Cathedral since Christmas, and it was obvious that he didn’t have plans to leave. At least, not until Rylie agreed to talk to him about the Apple’s so-called “demands.”
There was no chance that Rylie and Abel were going to concede anything to the Apple. And Levi wasn’t going anywhere until they listened.
That standoff had lasted four months now.
“You’re thinking about talking with him, aren’t you?” Abel asked.
Rylie threw her hands into the air. “What else am I supposed to do? And if you say ‘kill them,’ I will bite you.”
He snagged her by the wrist, pulling her back to him. “Promise?” She giggled.
A voice echoed through the trees. “I like the stage.”
The sound of a newcomer’s voice made Abel instinctively step away from Rylie, positioning himself between her and the approaching threat.
A woman shuffled up the road. She wore combat boots and ripped jeans, a leather jacket, and a gun at her hip. She skirted the inner edge of the shadow, careful not to touch sunlight, and kept her hands tucked under her arms so that little skin was exposed.
Elise Kavanagh.
The sight of her didn’t make Abel’s caution abate. His hackles lifted.
But he couldn’t hold Rylie back. She pushed him aside and beamed down at Elise. “I got the idea from you. From the throne room in Dis.”
“You’ve been to the throne room?” Elise asked, jerking the lapels of her jacket around her face.
“Neuma took me there.”
“I like it,” she said again. “Smart move. Makes you look more authoritative.”
Rylie glowed at the praise, even as Abel felt a growl brewing in his chest. He didn’t want or need the demon’s approval. “Thanks, Elise. So what’s up? Should we start prepping for another homecoming?”
Elise looked surprised. “
No. No homecoming this week. I’ve been…busy.”
No homecoming “this week?” Could she really be so self-absorbed that she didn’t realize how long it had been since they sent more humans home through the fissure? “It’s been months,” Abel said. “I’m thinking maybe you’re enjoying being queen of Hell so much, you don’t care about letting the mortals out anymore.”
Rylie touched his bicep. “Could we have a few minutes?”
“With her? Alone?” He didn’t like the sound of it. When Elise showed up, Rylie had a habit of getting into dumb shit.
“Please.” Rylie stretched up onto her toes. Planted a kiss on his chin. “I’ll be here when you come back. Promise.”
There wasn’t anything else he could ask for. Lots he wanted to ask for, definitely, but nothing reasonable.
“I should be down with the pack anyway,” Abel muttered.
“Thank you,” Rylie said, and she kissed him again.
The girl didn’t need authority. Not with Abel. A smile and a kiss was all it took for her to bend him to her will.
That wasn’t going to work on the rest of the pack. Sooner or later, Rylie was going to have to come to terms with the fact she couldn’t be Alpha by being nice all the damn time.
Once that happened, Abel would be ready.
Rylie waited until Abel was gone to hug Elise. She knew that Elise didn’t like it, but she did it anyway—just a brief gesture, another silent reminder that Rylie didn’t blame her for Seth. Elise patted her on the back awkwardly.
“You look good,” Elise said.
Rylie tugged on her dress self-consciously, pulling it loose around her stomach. “Thank you.” She wished that she could return the compliment, but Elise didn’t look good. She looked as sickly as she had while hunting for James and Abel. “I’m just happy that winter’s finally going away. I thought it was never going to end.”
A ghost of a smile touched Elise’s eyes. “You could have vacationed in the Palace. It’s always warm there.”