Dire Wants

by Stephanie Tyler

  But that thought was soon gone. Once Stray opened the still-unlocked door, the mess inside wasn’t what she expected.

  There was nothing left. There were scratches, deep grooves, along the floor and the walls, and there was blood, but there was nothing else left of hers. She hadn’t had much of value, but it had been hers. “Where did my stuff go?”

  “Shimmin’s people probably came back and got rid of it.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re … erased, Kate. From the police databases. From social security. For all intents and purposes, you’ve fallen off the map.”

  “You had nothing to do with that?”

  “No, but I would’ve done it if they hadn’t.”

  “For my own safety, of course.” The anger built inside of her, this time at the right people, the ones who’d tried to hurt her.

  “The witch who passed her powers to me—she died so men like Shimmin couldn’t use her. If she hadn’t died, she might’ve been forced to work with them. Or she might’ve agreed to, like Seb did. What makes you think the same thing won’t happen to me?”

  “When she passed the powers, she strengthened them,” he told her. “You won’t be as susceptible.”

  But there were still no promises. “I want to know more about her. Why she picked me. I want to know everything.” The lights flickered wildly and the floor began to shake under them. And for once, she didn’t care that it was happening, didn’t care that Stray was witnessing it this time. For the first time, she liked this power, because at least her feelings were known.

  She waited for Stray to argue with her, but strangely, he didn’t, just led her out of the apartment into the cold air. Before they got into his truck, he cleared his throat and said, “I need to touch the brand.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She glanced at Vice and Cyd. Stray must’ve motioned to them to get into their truck and they did so. When she turned her back to him, she lifted her shirt a little and asked, “Why?”

  “Because I have to find your grimoire—your book of magic. It belonged to your witch, and now it’s yours.”

  “And it’s going to help me?”

  “It’s a book of spells. Each witch has their own personal one, and sometimes it’s passed down by generation, through families. You practice them, add to it. You make it yours,” Stray explained. “It’s one of the final puzzle pieces for you.”

  “How do we find it?”

  “I can track it. I’ve been sensing it for half the day, but I can’t quite scent it.”

  “You can track it?”

  “That’s something I’m really good at. I tracked you and look where we are now.”

  Where indeed. Somewhere between magic and reality, hanging on to both by a tenuous thread.

  *

  Stray was really trying not to invade her privacy, but Kate didn’t realize how loud her thoughts were, how they were basically directed at him like darts to a board.

  Why she wasn’t able to do the same to him when he left his mind open, well, he didn’t know if she was being polite or if she was simply distracted. But the fact that Seb could get to her … well, Stray needed to protect himself better.

  Kate stood there, looking over her shoulder at him. Waiting for his touch. He rubbed his hands together, but it wasn’t necessary. His body ran warm, like the wolf he was, and when he touched the mark, his fingers lined with the witch’s, a current ran through him, far stronger than he’d felt earlier, a sensation of belonging, both him to her and her to him.

  And that was different, a confirmation of what he’d been feeling the entire time. Everything clicked. The need for more threatened to overwhelm him, and he didn’t want to be denied. Wouldn’t, not for much longer.

  “Ah, Stray?” she asked, because his hands slid around to her belly and his face lowered against her neck. He bent his head, suckled, marking her lightly on the side of her neck, enough to make her shiver against him in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Is this because of your wolf?”

  “He likes it, but this is my show now.” He turned her in his arms and kissed her then, his tongue stroking the roof of her mouth, teasing her until she moaned against his mouth. Her hands gripped his biceps and he pressed his arousal to her belly, wanting her to feel him. To know that she wasn’t scaring him off any longer.

  He’d had hours to think about the familiar aspect to all of this—and strangely enough, he wasn’t running screaming for the hills.

  Yeah, she wasn’t scared of him any longer. No, sir, because he could smell her arousal, sweet and hot and all for him, and there was no fear. “Let’s find your book.”

  “And then?”

  “And then … I’m going to do this again. And much, much more.”

  She didn’t protest. And then Brother Wolf nudged him. He caught wind of another trail, and this time, it was exactly what he needed. “Come on. I’ve got a lead on the book—a good one.”

  She scrambled into the truck and he climbed in and took off down the alley with Vice and Cyd following. He noted that she kept touching her lips with her fingers lightly.

  And then suddenly the mood changed and everything shifted. “What’s wrong?”

  She drew in a tight breath. “That part of the dream—where I die—that’s new,” she said softly.

  He gave a quick glance in her direction. “You never remembered that?”

  “No. Is that important?”

  “Very.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel as the truck barreled down the highway in the dark, Brother Wolf guiding him on this hunt. “You’re other, Kate, because you’re a witch but also because you’ve seen the afterworld. That’s going to give you a connection to the spirit world that most don’t have.”

  He thought about Rogue. He could help her with all of this so much better than Stray could. Jinx, too.

  But she chose you. She wants you.

  And he wished he could believe it was of her own free will, because her scent was killing him. He wanted to stop the truck, drag her across his lap and take her until she clung to him, calling his name.

  He shifted as his cock grew impossibly hard. Brother Wolf growled at him to keep it together, which he would normally find funny as shit.

  But not tonight.

  “Are your brothers still following us?”

  He glanced in the rearview. “They’re there. We’ll be okay. Truck’s bulletproof. Fireproof. Wereproof.”

  “What about witchproof?”

  He sure as hell wasn’t. “That remains to be seen.”

  “You’ve known a lot of witches?”

  Knew them, stayed away from them. “Mainly Seb. We know a lot of lore—witches, vamps, wolves. We keep track of it.”

  She twisted her hands together. “Is there like a special witch’s chat board or something?”

  “Actually, yes. But you’ll also need different resources. Internet’s far from reliable—anyone can say anything they goddamned want, you know?”

  He grew quiet then, because they were close. He slowed down. The urge to hunt was overwhelming, but he wasn’t looking for someone. This time it was something, her magic guiding him without her realizing it. It wasn’t spelling him. No, it was more like a gentle finger under his chin keeping him on track.

  Chapter 22

  “We’re close,” Stray told her. They’d been driving around for the better part of half an hour, Stray stopping every once in a while to stand outside the car, breathing in the night air. Kate longed to join him, but her legs still trembled when she realized how much was on all their shoulders.

  She was secretly hoping this turned out to be some kind of crazy prank.

  Why would he joke about something like this?

  He wouldn’t. He’d been dead serious. And her hands were shaking again.

  Wordlessly, Stray reached into the backseat and pulled out an open bottle of Jack Daniel’s, handed it to her. She took a sip, winced and asked, “Why does Leo Shimmin hate wolves?”

  “It’s a long
story, stretching back to Viking times.” He paused. “They started out wanting to avenge the deaths of their ancestors, but over the centuries, it’s twisted into something horrible. They’re called weretrappers and they want to enslave wolves and take over the world. And I realize it sounds like the plot of some horror novel, which makes it worse, because it can happen. It will, if you don’t help. And humans are clueless.”

  “I can’t believe …” She stopped because she tried to imagine and couldn’t. “I know there have been instances where humans have tried to eradicate others, but …”

  “It’s going to be worse, because the wolves are strong. Coupled with the black arts, the demons, well, not only are they going to gain control, but they’ll lose it just as fast to the very powers they’re trying to control. They’re playing with fire, and everyone is going down because of it. Except us.”

  “How does helping your brother work into all of this?”

  “Rogue can communicate with the spirit world that Seb is conjuring. And in order to help him, we have to kill the witch who’s calling to you. Many of his spells will live on without him, but not the one he placed on my brother. Seb’s got other witches working spells, but he’s the most important one.”

  “I have to kill an immortal witch. How exactly is that supposed to work?”

  “You could try to force Seb to become mortal, to give up his powers.”

  “And hurt another girl like me.”

  “And save billions of people.”

  Another half an hour and several more swigs from the bottle, she realized two things—her head couldn’t spin enough to rid her of what Stray filled it with, and she couldn’t get drunk.

  Stray looked sympathetic, but he hadn’t held anything back. “That book of magic’s looking pretty good now, isn’t it?”

  “Suppose I can’t—”

  “You can. The witch who touched you was as powerful as Seb, maybe more so. And you’re almost to your twenty-third birthday …”

  “It’s tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Exactly ten years from the time the witch touched me. Happy birthday to me.”

  “You’ll need a lot more than that bottle to get drunk,” he confirmed. “It’s your power—it absorbs … everything.”

  “That sucks,” she muttered, took another vicious swig in defiance. She should be saying, “I want to go home,” but that basement apartment wasn’t home. Nothing had been since the accident, maybe wouldn’t be again. “Stray, I can’t do anything you’re asking of me.”

  “You will. I’ll help you.”

  “If I can’t—”

  “A whole lot of people die. Innocent ones.”

  “So I take one life to save many?”

  “That’s the basic idea.”

  They rode in silence for several more minutes until Stray suddenly turned along a dirt road that seemed to lead to nowhere. Finally, it opened to a small parcel of land and a decent-sized cabin.

  “That’s Lila’s—your witch. It’s spelled still so no one can simply stumble upon it,” Stray said. “The grimoire recognizes us, so that’s a good sign.”

  “Lila,” she repeated. “That’s a pretty name.” It was the first time she’d felt anything but anger or fear toward the witch.

  Lila’s cabin was well off the beaten path. As far as she could tell, they were an hour from the Dire house. As she approached the porch, lightning split the sky, a brilliant display of angry light and crackling noise as it struck the ground close by.

  She swallowed hard. “That’s for us, isn’t it?”

  Stray didn’t answer, pulled her inside the cabin. When he looked back at her, his eyes were what he called Brother Wolf’s—and he was hunting something.

  She held tight to his hand as he navigated the pitch black of the cabin easily. She heard the scurrying of small animals, tried not to think about spiders and God knew what else until he stopped and began to dig at the floorboards.

  She held the flashlight where he was working, for her benefit, not his. But then he got up in frustration and began to tap the walls, looking for hollow spots. She moved the flashlight off him and on to the rest of the room.

  Before her eyes, it turned from grimy and old to new and sparkling, how it must’ve been when her witch—Lila—lived. She turned fast as though someone had her by the shoulders, guiding her, until she stopped in one of the corners opposite from where Stray worked.

  “This is all magic,” she said, her hushed tones holding a trace of awe. She touched the walls and then she went inexplicably to a place in the corner. With a touch of a finger, it opened. She reached into the dark cabinet tentatively, drew out a large, heavy box.

  Her entire body flushed with heat, and she couldn’t resist sitting on the dirty, dusty floor and opening it.

  When she opened it, she knew she’d come home.

  A book. Leather-bound with gold writing—a language she shouldn’t understand but did.

  Her mother’s family name was written on the inside pages and her breath caught. “My mother … she was a witch,” she murmured to herself. “Lila … she was related to me. It really is my bloodline. It was there the entire time.”

  It was too late for her to wonder if things could’ve been different, to wish her mother had embraced this, helped her. She could only move forward, and with the book’s help, she would.

  “Kate, did you find it?” Stray asked, but he knew she had. His wolf felt it, her surge of energy and power as she cradled the book of magic in her hands.

  She looked up at him with a smile. “I’m not helpless anymore.”

  “You never were, Kate.”

  She let those words sink in for a long moment and then put the flashlight back on the book. She flipped through while Stray waited patiently in the dark.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, drinking all of it in—her history. The writing was perfect, black ink on thick parchment paper. She traced a finger along the words that told of her destiny. “I was meant for this. She—Lila—always knew she’d pick me, out of all of the witches in her line. Do you believe in fate?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  His voice sounded a little odd, but she was too involved in the book to give him her attention. “It’s all true, Stray. The wolves—you’re mentioned here. Weres. And Dires. Your name is in this book.” She stared up at him. “Did you know that?”

  “No. But I’m not surprised. Good witches tend to like us.”

  “Because you’re good wolves.”

  “We try, Kate.” Another burst of lightning outlined his frame, and a surge of want coursed through her.

  “There’s more.” Her finger ran down the calligraphy. “Vampires. Shifters. Weretrappers …”

  She trailed off and read a little more about them. “That’s what Leo Shimmin is.”

  “Yes. Look, Kate, we can’t stay here. Hold tight to the grimoire. It’s yours.”

  Indeed, the gold seemed to … glow, somehow, like it had honed in on her presence. “No one can take it from me?”

  “No. It’s part of you. Come on, now.” He held out a hand, and she put the book back in the box and then under her jacket., holding it there with her arm. With her free hand, she took his help. Didn’t let go of his hand until it was time to get into the truck.

  Chapter 23

  The lights in the truck flickered seconds later, followed by a burst of lightning.

  “I didn’t do that,” Kate told him.

  Stray looked out the front windshield at the sky. He could see perfectly in the dark. He took her in hand as he sniffed the air, and the lingering scent of burning sky filled his nostrils.

  Unnatural, all of it. “We have to go now.”

  But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure they’d make it back.

  No choice, Brother Wolf said. He locked the doors and prayed the electrical system in the car would hold out.

  As they backtracked through the woods, the lightning continued to flare, but somehow, the barrage of rain he expected
didn’t happen. When he looked over at Kate, she had her bare hands on the cover of the book and she seemed to be concentrating. Maybe getting them out of there safely had everything to do with her, or maybe not, but he wasn’t questioning it.

  And yet she looked so damned pale. Her breathing was shallow and when she turned to look at him, the circles under her eyes made her look wan and drawn.

  He jammed the car into reverse and headed back toward the cabin and its magical properties. That’s where the current battle was being waged. He couldn’t read her mind, and that scared him more than anything.

  She doesn’t need you if she’s not calling for you.

  Or maybe the opposite was true—maybe this was when she needed him the most.

  As dangerous as it was, the witch in her needed to be outside. He understood that pull all too well, and he granted her wish. He got out and ran to her door.

  “Stray, I—”

  Her strength was crumbling. Saying Trust me would mean nothing. He picked her up and carried her out of the truck, because showing was always better than telling.

  Her connection to the moon would be as strong as his—he had little doubt. She’d feel better outside, but she probably didn’t know that.

  Once out in the open air with him, he attempted to shield her with his body from the raindrops that fell, fat and uneven, like they were being held back by her power. She still held tight to the grimoire.

  He noted Vice and Cyd were half out of their truck too, covering both him and Kate with guns and their wolves, if necessary.

  But guns and wolves had little to no effect on magic. It was up to Kate this time, and he prayed she could see it through. Even a small victory at this point would be enough.

  Kate breathed easier as soon as the open air hit her.

  He placed her down under the shimmery orb and immediately her center of balance returned. She put her free hand on her belly as everything shifted right-side up again. Better than before … better than it had been since the accident, when every night she’d run inside at dark and wait under the covers for the dawn.

  “How did you know?” she asked.