Above This Grave (The Cloven Pack Series: Book Three)

by D. Fischer

  I love him.

  I frown, dread damping my revelation. But I shouldn’t love him. I made a deal with Jazz. I must choose, my brother . . . or my mate. Do I betray this Pack and the one I love? Or do I save my own flesh and blood, heeding to the demands of my enemy?

  My wolf howls inside me, disgusted with the deal I’ve made with the devil. Disgusted that there’s even an option in the first place.

  My eyebrows soften.

  I love him.

  Flint Rockland

  Ira and I sit on top of a light blanket that covers the ground. The Pack surrounds the fire, telling stories and laughing at memories. Ira, snug between my legs, listens with interest, nestling deeper into my chest. She’s been oddly quiet, listening to her friend, Kat, the witch who owns the shop in town, chat about a thieving customer.

  Romaine, who sits next to Kat, watches her with intense curiosity and admiration. I’m not sure if he’s ever seen a witch, but it’s obvious he’s interested in more ways than one.

  His eyes travel the length of her tattooed body, then back to her pixie-like face, studying every feature. He feels my gaze and lifts his eyes to meet mine. A slow smile spreads across my face before he matches it. He shrugs and shifts his body back toward the pit.

  Kat seems like she talks excessively just to fill the space. A nervous habit? Possibly. She had been discussing how she rid the thief from her shop using a well-placed electro-current spell.

  I cut her off mid-sentence. “So how does your magic work, exactly?”

  Irene straightens up a little, interested in the information Kat may provide.

  Kat shrugs. “We’re descendants of Erline . . . or Mother Nature, as you call her. We’re tied to her, our magic coming from her alone.”

  Kenna huffs. “Mother Nature,” she mumbles under her breath, her eyes narrowing.

  “Oh, she’s real.” Kat nods, her nose piercing glittering in the fire’s light. “I’ve met her.”

  Irene’s head raises a tad, her voice skeptical. “You’ve met her? Mother Nature?”

  “Erline,” she corrects before scratching the back of her neck. “Not on the best of terms, she and I.”

  I raise an eyebrow, stroking Irene’s thigh absentmindedly. “Oh? Did you cut down one of her trees and craft a wand?”

  Ben and Romaine chuckle.

  Kat shrugs, averting her gaze. Her deflection has my curiosity piqued, but I can tell I offended her.

  Irene comes to her friend’s rescue. “Tell me about your legends.” Irene snuggles back in, awaiting the story.

  Kat looks around the fire, everyone settling in and patiently waiting for tales of a witch’s life. She sighs and rolls her neck before she begins, “In the medieval ages of France,” she looks at Irene pointedly, “that’s our ancestry—French folks adapted many myths and legends: Greek, Norse, even Germanic. But the legends and myths were just that. They were conjured for the purpose of explaining away how and why things happened and came to be.” She shrugs. “They’re humans, ya know? They didn’t really know any different.”

  She pauses, the fire crackling. “Erline is the Fee in charge of this Realm.”

  “Fee?” Victoria asks, sitting up a little straighter and cocking an eyebrow.

  Kat squints her eyes as she looks over top the fire. “Fae, or faeries, as fiction literature calls it.” Victoria nods and settles back into her lawn chair. Kat continues, “The Fee controls the realms, and often visits each one.” Her nose twitches and she rubs it. “Sometimes they make themselves known to humans, which is why they believed them to be Gods. They can be quite intimidating and self-righteous.”

  “How do you know all this?” Evo asks, resting his arms on the armrest and holding his chin with his hand.

  Kenna slaps his chest with the back of her hand. “Let her finish.”

  Kenna nods at Kat to keep going. “There are many Realms. One Fee,” she holds up a finger, “is in charge of each Realm. Our stories say that Erline craved more. Though all before her is of her design, she wanted a child. She saw all that she created and watched them procreate new life. With the help of Kheelan, the Fee watching over the Realm of the dead, they gave birth to a child,” she pauses the story, taking a deep breath while staring at the fire, remembering the details that had once been told to her. “Her name was Myla.” Her voice is lower, softer. “We call her The First Born.” She waits as the fire crackles, sending sparks into the sky. “Erline hid Myla from Kheelan. She didn’t want her only daughter in the hands of death for fear that Myla’s magic would be used for destructive purposes.”

  Kenna clears her throat. “And what can the Fee do?”

  Kat laughs and sweeps out her arm. “All that you see before you. A witch’s magic holds nothing compared to theirs.”

  I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “How come we’ve never heard of this.”

  She shrugs, her small shoulders bobbing. “Information gets lost if it isn’t passed down through the generations. Witches are more sentimental.”

  “So, if you’re a descendant, what does that make us—the shifters?” Bre asks.

  “Her creation,” she answers in a quiet voice.

  It was silent for a moment before someone asked another question. “And the vampires?”

  Kat fiddles with the hem of her jeans. “The vampires are not living beings. Erline only holds power over the living.”

  “What about ghosts?” I ask, a cocky smirk on my face.

  “Same rules apply. This isn’t their Realm, but some do stay trapped here.” She tilts her head to me, narrowing her eyes. “And they prefer to be called Shades.”

  “So . . . they would be Kheelan’s creation?” I ask, connecting the dots to her legends.

  Kat sighs, annoyed with my disbelief. “Yes. When he couldn’t find his daughter, he was furious. He created the vampires and sent them to this realm to search for her. Obviously,” she waves her hand in the air, “they never found her, but they remained in this Realm anyway.”

  “How many Realms are there?” Evalyn asks in a whisper. Those are the first words I’ve ever heard her say.

  Kat returns her eyes to the fire. “Many,” she whispers.

  The silence stretches on as everyone soaks in what they’ve been told. My eyes watch the fire, picturing the tale Kat painted. The flames crackle to life, bringing about images and faces of the people in her story. I glance at Kat, who watches as well. Maybe I’m imagining the images—the blaze and the legend playing tricks on my mind.

  Is this a real story? A real legend? I don’t like that there’s an indication to more powerful beings. My wolf doesn’t either, even if Erline is the creator of my kind. People with immense power can be dangerous and should be watched over so their power isn’t abused. How do you watch someone who you never knew existed? Not to this extent, anyway.

  Irene lightly nudges me in the stomach with her elbow. “Where’s Dyson?”

  I glance around, realizing he isn’t here. “I thought he’d be back by now.”

  Bre perks up from within her chair, her gaze to mine from across the fire. “Where’d he go, anyway?”

  My shoulders lift as I shrug, jostling Irene. “An errand, I guess.”

  Bre frowns and looks at Ben. He shrugs his own shoulders, the lawn chair creaking as he does so. We remain quiet, concern on all our faces. Packs are close-knit. None of us enjoy the idea of not knowing where a Pack mate is. I should have asked more questions before he left.

  Bre stands up and stretches. She holds out her hand to Kenna. “Come on. Time for you to head inside.”

  Kenna frowns at her outstretched hand. “I’m not a fragile China doll. I can lift myself out of the chair.”

  Jessup and Evalyn, the mated couple, laugh at Kenna, not used to her prickly attitude. They snuggle deeper into each other and watch with the rest of us as Kenna shimmies her way to the end of the seat. Evo places his chin back in his hand and hides a smile behind his fingers. Kenna curses as the chair almost tips over. Irene ch
uckles in my lap with Victoria who sits next to us.

  Irene snuggles in closer, breathing in my scent, before getting off the ground. “I’m going to go in with them—check on the baby before she goes to sleep.”

  I nod as she heads off with Bre, Kenna, and Kat. I assume Kat will leave shortly. She and Irene seem to be good friends. I’ll have to ask Irene how that friendship came about.

  With the four women gone, the rest of us listen contently to the roar of the fire and the crickets chirping their song. A slight breeze ruffles my short hair and I scratch my head at the unwelcome tickle.

  Evo snaps his head up, his eyes narrow. Ben shifts his gaze toward him. “What is it?”

  He remains quiet, scanning the trees, before speaking in a hushed tone, “The crickets.”

  I look at the trees. The bugs have ceased their song. I rise to my feet, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Everyone else follows suit.

  “Nobody move,” Evo whispers.

  My breaths, my rapid heart rate, the breeze—it’s the only thing I can hear . . . until a twig snaps to the left in the trees and the breeze shifts, reaching my nose first.

  “Shit,” I growl.

  ChapterTen

  Irene Scott

  After checking Kenna, I blow out a breath as I leave the Alphas’ quarters, shutting the door quietly behind me. Brenna stayed behind to tend to Kenna’s needs. Kat, leaning against the white wall in the hallway, pushes off and descends the stairs with me.

  “You have a bathroom around here?” she asks, peeking around the corner of the kitchen.

  I nod with my back still turned to her. I continue putting one foot in front of the other, my destination being the fridge. “In the living room.”

  I hear her footsteps retreat back the way we came as she heads there. The bathroom door clicks shut and I open the fridge. I grab a plastic bottle of water and leave the door open as I twist off the lid, a big sigh escaping my lips.

  Kenna is dilated. I’m going to have to call Reese. It shouldn’t be long before that baby makes his arrival.

  What the hell am I going to do? How am I to snatch a baby with an entire Pack around? Even if I manage to, I’ll be condemning an innocent, hours old, child to the fate of Rogues. I’m not capable of such malevolent acts.

  I lift the bottle to my lips, but it flies from my hands as my body sails through the air and smashes into the nearby wall. The condiments in the fridge door crash to the floor as my hip hits it mid-air. The splatter from the contents of my water bottle splashes on every surface on its way to the floor.

  Before I have a moment to adjust—to discover what had hurled me like discarded garbage—fingers wrap around my throat, slamming my head against the wall. The drywall cracks and the wall moans on impact. I claw at the fingers with desperation before looking my attacker in the eye.

  Red eyes glow back at me, the smell of death and rotting flesh fans my face, and two very sharp and pointed fangs drip spittle as the vampire hisses. Black veins zig-zag under his pale skin.

  I remove my hands from prying away the vampire’s grip and flatten my fingers. In a quick motion—one that matches his own speed—I slap them over his ears. Vampires have sensitive hearing, just like shifters do. The audible slap rings true, echoing through the room, and his hands loosen from their grasp. I grab the boney fingers, twist his arm, and flip him to the ground.

  I hear a howl from outside and my heart thuds a little faster. This isn’t a singled-out attack, a slip past defenses. We—this entire Pack—are under attack.

  A bone in his arm crunches as he hits the floor with a thud. I’m emotionally thrown by his lack of pain when he chuckles from his sprawled-out position. I suppose when you’re dead, so are your nerves.

  Distracted by his laugh, my grip loosens and he yanks his broken arm free. He uses his other arm, wraps his cold, boney fingers around my leg and pulls, sending me crashing to the ground with him. I smack my head against the wood planks, seeing stars creep into my vision. I double blink, trying to dispel them. I silently degrade myself, and in a blur of speed, the vampire is on top of me. His brown, straw-like hair is tousled from his time spent on the floor and his arm dangles at an odd angle at his side.

  He hisses in my face, spittle hitting my cheek before he leans down. I get a better view of his eyes, pools of red liquid . . . like several shades of the blood he drinks.

  “I have a message,” he says, the words distorted as his lips slide over his fangs. His voice is void of emotion. I try to wiggle lose, but his thighs keep my arms locked in place. “Bring the baby or the Pack dies.”

  I grit my teeth and lean away from his decaying scent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His veiny eyelids narrow over the pools of red liquid. “You have a choice to make. Choose wisely, little wolf.”

  The ground rumbles and vibrates beneath my back and the vampire searches the floor for the cause. He stands, unsure of the movement. Once he’s to his feet, I can see between his legs.

  Kat, her right arm raised, palm up, moves her lips in quick motions, but the groaning of the floor silences her speech. Her eyes, her face . . . it’s transformed. Her cheek bones stick out farther than normal—boney, with her skin looking bruised—her lids are black as night, and each of her once perfect teeth spike from their gums in pointed arrows.

  Splintering wood flies into the air as thick, deep green vines spring free. The floorboards continue to quake and moan. Kat bends her elbow, then shoves her hand forward, palm facing the vampire. Impossible winds whip around her short pixie hair before they reach me, howling through the hallways as they come. I grip the post on the island, keeping myself from flying around with the winds. Cabinet doors open and shut, stools fly across the floor, the contents of the counters soar past my head. I duck, avoiding the contact.

  The vampire, desperately trying to keep his own feet on the group, whips his head around, facing the vines before the vegetation lashes forward, snaking its ropes and leaves around his torso. They continue wrapping around him like a cocoon, lifting him into the air. The vampire hisses, trying to wriggle free. I stand up, the winds now more centered around the vines and their victim. Carefully, using the edge of the island, I move across the shaking floor, his face now in my vision.

  The vines wrap around his neck and shoot straight down his throat. Leaves, splinters, and feet of vine forcefully bury themselves inside of him. His screeching transforms into guttural sounds, the vampires red eyes wide as he watches Kat. I can only guess at the vine’s destination, but my theory is it’s wrapping itself around his dead heart. The vampire stops wiggling; his expression is one of pain and shock before he dusts in the grasps of the vines.

  I see Kat’s hand drop from my peripheral vision. The vines drop to the floor and the winds disappear. Eyes on the black sand piled on the floor, my mind works frantically to piece together what I’ve just witnessed. I’ve never seen a witch use her abilities, I’ve never seen the monstrous face they have when they do either. Not while fighting.

  My shoulders move up and down, my breaths forcing their way out my flared nostrils. I turn to Kat. Her eyes glow around the rim of her brown irises—a shade of orange. I frown. Witches eyes glow? I thought that was just a shifter trait. Kat meets my eyes, her expression blank, her frightening features holding their place.

  “What are you?” I ask, a notch above a whisper.

  She blinks and the orange rim disappears. “What choice do you have to make, Ira?” she asks, deflecting my question with one of her own. Her speech deformed as she talks around her sharp teeth.

  Taken aback by the sudden switch of subject, my head tilts to the side. My mind is still trying to work out what I just witnessed. The vines, the earth moving, the wind—that’s all part of nature, right? Her face . . . I just didn’t realize how strong witches are. Or maybe it’s just this witch. And the glowing eyes—I know for a fact her eyes didn’t glow when she performed Kenna and Bre’s unity service.

/>   Acknowledging my confused expression to her question, she explains, “The vampire. He said you had a choice. What did he mean?”

  I scratch the back of my neck. “I have no idea,” I lie and avert my gaze from her intimidating features.

  We scream at the sound of glass shattering and crashing to the ground. The shards skitter across the dining room floor before coming to a halt. I move quickly to Kat’s side. Another vampire scrambles to his feet within the shards. Deep red blood, almost black in color, seeps from several small cuts, but like the other, he doesn’t seem to feel it.

  Evo barges in, eyes glowing wolf and partially shifted. He takes his clawed hands and grabs the vampire’s shoulders, slamming him onto the dining table. The wood groans and splinters from the force. The vampire clambers, trying to escape out from under Evo’s iron grasp.

  Evo roars, plunging his clawed hand into the chest of the vampire. The vampire stills as Evo’s fingers wrap around his heart. He dusts as the organ is crushed, Evo’s hand remaining where it was before the vampire’s death.

  His shoulders rise and fall before he turns glowing eyes to us, shaking the dust from his hand. A frown dips his blond eyebrows when he sees the destruction behind us.

  “You okay?” he asks. His shirt is in tatters but his skin remains unscathed.

  I nod my head and then jump when a screech comes from the other room.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Kenna yells. She walks into view dressed in a night gown and her long brown hair into a messy bun. Bre holds onto her elbow as she waddles her way into the dining room. “What the fuck!” Her screeches echo as she takes in the full view of all the destruction.

  “Kenna, go back to our room,” Evo warns, his head twisting behind him to the battle happening out in the lawn. He searches the scene, and for a moment, we listen to the chaos. My heart skips a beat, unsure of the well-being of my mate.

  “I will not,” she growls, her eyes glowing. She grits her teeth. “Tell me what is happening, Evo.”