by Wendy Owens
I think about the question and then smirk. “Power. She’s afraid they want to be in charge.”
Piper nods in the affirmative. “Eternity has a way of making you crave it. Immortals are given a high amount of respect in the court, but they’re also expected to fall in line or pay the price.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Queen Boru and I had only met once in person, but she left a lasting impression on me. “It sounds like a motive to me.”
“No,” she insists. “They wouldn’t dare risk breaking the rules. The Alphas are the ones who helped write the rules for the Lycan line; it wouldn’t make any sense for them to go against their own law for an unsanctioned hunt.”
I rake my fingers through my knotted hair, then suggest sarcastically, “Yeah, because rule makers are never the ones to break them.”
“I hope that’s not the case,” Piper says in a shaky voice.
I stare at her, remembering the words I had been warned of in a vision. Beware of Boru’s circle. I’ve been watching Queen Boru since Joe’s murder. Listening closer each time her name is mentioned. The warning had to mean something. Someone close to her is linked to his death, I'm certain of it. Was my vision a warning indicating a plot to dethrone her? Was it a warning about her own desperation to hold onto that power? I find myself no closer to answering those questions, and it infuriates me. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person left who wants to see my grandfather Joe’s killer brought to justice and I can’t help feeling like I’m failing miserably.
“What if—?” I choke on my words.
“What if what?” She asks.
I force a halfhearted smile. “Nothing. Never mind.” Telling Piper, my suspicions of the queen and those around her would only give her information that would put all of us in even more danger. Secrets are as dangerous as the most lethal of poisons if they’re known by too many people. I would need to keep these dark suspicions in my mind, hidden safely away before I found myself losing another person in my life. This secret wasn't a burden she needed to carry as well.
“Tynder, if you—” She’s going to press me about what I think so I cut her off. It’s who she is; she can’t help it. I need to give her something else to focus on.
“We should be on our way,” I interrupt, swallowing and hoping Piper doesn’t realize I am trying to deflect her questions that I don’t feel like answering.
She shakes her head and says, “Oh, right,” as she finishes the spell using what was in the vial, and the portal opens.
Piper grabs my arm before I can step through the portal shimmering before us. I look at her questioningly. “You’ll need to do the talking when we get there,” she adds. I furrow my brow, underlining my confusion. “Lord Ardack is a very important man. Someone of my stature should never speak directly to him.”
“Are you kidding me? Does he not understand what year we live in?”
“Tynder, please. That’s the way things are. You can’t just go around changing traditions that have been in place for thousands of years.”
At this moment she reminds me of Joe, and I can’t help but smile.
I don’t hesitate as I walk to the portal, but turn around to Piper and say, “We need to get one of those wall portals you walk through,” I suggest, but considering I say this every time we use the floor portal, I’m sure Piper is well aware of my thoughts on the matter. Witches use magic potions and spells. To have a wall portal, you need a gateway item. They’re apparently rare and based on the fact there wasn’t one to be found in the office, Joe never saw the need to request for or have one. Piper lifts her eyebrows and points toward the disc-shaped pool.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and step inside, bracing myself for the fall and—ouch—as expected, a sudden and hard landing. I roll forward a few feet and come to an abrupt stop in the lush green grass. It’s not always the most graceful re-entry with a floor portal, but I can’t help wishing the human world had the same transportation abilities as the Fae world. A thin veil exists between the two worlds, and with the aid of a few drops of specific liquid and clear thoughts, you can move anywhere you want between the two in a matter of seconds. After countless hours on the train or sitting in taxis, I have to admit this is the way to travel, even if it’s not always the softest of landings.
A moment later Piper slips through the portal and reappears floating above my head. I snarl as I watch her as she glides gracefully to the ground. Magic—it’s like she’s just showing off now.
I stand and brush myself off, turning to look at the expansive manor in front of me. “Thanks for the help,” I grumble under my breath.
“If you would practice the spells I gave you, maybe you wouldn’t have to fall through the portal every time,” she chimes her her motherly tone.
“I told you, I’m not a witch.”
“You can still do some basic spells, Tynder.”
“And risk turning myself into a frog, no thank you.”
Piper smirks. “You know I’d always turn you back into a human. Eventually.”
I press my lips together and lift my brows. “Cute.”
I look back at the building behind us. It’s old, but one can tell it’s meticulously cared for. The timber beams that jut back and forth across the face of the structure are massive, yet it somehow still looks cozy. Ivy stretches across the face of the structure as if showing us the way to the entrance.
“Ready?” I ask.
Piper peers down at her ankle-length bohemian skirt she’s wearing and sighs. “I should have changed.”
I scowl and ask, “Why on earth would you have done that?”
“I look like a commoner.”
“A commoner? Are you serious? What are we, back in the Dark Ages, m’lady?” I tease, though suddenly I am much more aware of what I’m wearing. Damn it! I’ve never cared before, and I’m not about to start now. “Come on.”
I don’t wait for a response from her. I’ve learned a lot over the past month about how this world works; possibly one of the most important unwritten rules is that these people only give you the respect you demand. You’re a Royal Magistrate. It doesn’t matter how you dress, because what you say matters, I remind myself and grit my teeth.
“Tynder, wait up,” Piper pleads, stumbling after me. I can’t slow down. If I slow down, I may start to doubt myself, and I’m sure a wolf, an Alpha, whatever, can smell doubt—or maybe it’s fear. Reaching out my hands, I push open the oversized wooden door. The inside is elegant. Flowers everywhere I look rich hues of wood all around me, and a huge staircase at the end of the hall.
“Welcome to the Grimlore House, can I help you?” a thin woman, with dark hair and high cheekbones that don’t seem natural, asks me from behind a desk to my left. Suddenly Piper is next to me. She’s panting.
“Piper Williams and Tynder Crown here to see Lord Ardack,” Piper interjects, trying to smile through her heavy breaths.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks.
“Oh … uh, no,” Piper stammers. “I guess we should have. Yeah, I mean, that makes sense. Can we make an appointment?”
I reach up and put my hand between Piper and the woman. Speaking in a commanding tone, I say, “This is official Magistrate business. I need to see Ardack immediately.” I can see the shock, or perhaps horror better describes the look on Piper’s face.
“I’m sorry,” the woman replies in a voice that says she’s not sorry at all. She stands and leans toward me. Her tone shifts to match my own, and I notice her eyes are nearly glowing with flickers of amber. “I was unaware you were here on official business.”
“Well, we are,” I snap with widened eyes.
“Calliope, can you hold the rest of my calls for the afternoon?” A smooth voice fills the air around me. It’s thick and leathery as it cocoons itself around my head, oozing and filling every inch inside me. I turn and face the source. His jawline is strong, and I immediately recognize him from the Council. Lord Ardack.
“Sir
.” The woman stiffens. “Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, but it’s just these women were—”
“Tynder Crown,” he says, his jaw tight. I notice he’s still as unpleased to see me as he was during our previous encounter. I stare for a moment at the thick but well-groomed beard on his face. “I suppose we haven’t technically met, have we? At least not formally.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t call being dragged before a review committee on a witch hunt while I’m just trying to do my job much of a formal meeting. So no, not formally,” I answer in an unyielding voice. I can feel Piper begin to sway next to me and I steady her with the side of my arm.
My eyes lock with Lord Ardack, and we’re fused in a game, a battle of wills, who will look away first, who will reveal their real intent? I don’t know why we’re playing this game, or what the rules are, or even what the prize may be, but I can feel it, and by his expression, it’s clear he can too.
“Please, come in,” he offers, stepping to one side and motioning to the open door behind him, never taking his eyes off me.
Confidently, I stride past him and lifting a finger to point over my shoulder, I casually add, “And I’m sure you know my Crim, Piper.”
He nods in her direction; she gives him a mousy smile, then ducks her head and scurries past him silently, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of a large wooden desk. I don’t grab my seat as quickly. Instead, I watch Lord Ardack as he closes the door and crosses the room. Hmm, Alpha… I can see that. You can tell by the way he walks; he looks like he’s prowling.
“Please, Miss Crown, have a seat.” I notice a hint of an accent that I hadn’t before as he motions to the chair beside Piper. I wonder where he’s from, and also how old he might be. Clenching my fists, I’m determined I won’t be the first to sit. My fingers begin to tingle with the anticipation.
My gaze darts around the room; a massive fireplace fills the wall to my right. It’s taller than me and quite impressive. “Nice digs,” I comment. Piper gasps, and I can’t help but smile. She must be dying to hush me. I could get used to her snarky quips being silenced, except that it pisses me off her silence is a result of some ridiculous, oppressive tradition.
“Thank you,” he replies, taking his seat at last. I grin and sit. I win. “Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what brings you here today?”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I am frozen. A haunting and familiar dread fills me from the top of my head all the way to my toes. It’s like I can feel the eyes of the dark one from my dreams on me. He’s watching me, just as he does when I am standing in front of the mirror in my dreams. My head jerks around terrified I may finally put a face with those eyes, but nobody else is in the room except for Lord Ardack and Piper.
“Are you okay?” Piper whispers in my direction.
I nod in the affirmative, even though I am far from okay. When my dreams start creeping in on my reality, I am certain I am far from okay.
Lord Ardack sighs impatiently adding, “I’m very busy Miss Crown. If we could get this moving along.”
He seems in a hurry, and I wonder if it’s something sinister I am keeping him from. I don’t know if he’s guilty of anything, but if my intuition means anything he has an entire house the size of this one full of secrets he wouldn’t want a Magistrate finding out about.
I look in Piper’s direction as she hands me the envelope she’s holding and stares at me. She’s waiting, practically biting her lip to stay silent. I swipe the pictures from her hand and try to shake the lingering fear from my wakeful memory of that strange dream. I roll my eyes and toss the envelope across Lord Ardack’s desk. “I was hoping you could tell me about these.” Piper cringes. I guess you should have spoken up if you don’t like the way I handle things, I silently tell her with a glare.
Ardack’s eyes shift from me to Piper, and then to the envelope. Silence hangs in the air for a moment, before he leans forward and reaches for the package. I watch his expression as he slides the images from their hiding place, searching for truth. He doesn’t react. How can he not react? That’s the most gruesome scene I’ve ever seen.
“And why would I know anything about these?” he asks, his voice calm and steady as he continues to flip through the images.
“Because that used to be a human in those pictures but something devoured its insides and shredded what was left. And well, you know Lycans,” I answer firmly. You’re not getting out of this so easily; I think to myself. The man is guilty of something, but it may just be being a prick.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but this was no Lycan attack,” he replies, shoving the pictures across the table in my direction.
“It wasn’t a wolf?” Piper breaks her silence at last. The attention in the room focuses on her. Her eyes grow large, and her bottom lip begins to tremble. She’s mortified. Her head drops, and she looks at the ground. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispers.
It feels as if my blood is starting to boil. I tilt my head from side to side, the bones in my neck releasing their tension with a popping noise.
“Our experts don’t agree,” I declare in a firm voice. “Are you telling us that by your account, the person in those photos wasn’t attacked by a werewolf?” I attempt to clarify, remembering Piper's warning about the use of the offensive word entirely. I want a reaction out of him. I want to throw him off his game.
“No, I’m telling you it wasn’t a Lycan,” he corrects me, his gaze shifting in my direction. He seems unfazed. If anything, he’s amused.
“People are being shredded, innocent humans devoured by whatever this thing is, and I fail to see the difference between a Lycan and a rogue werewolf,” I snap.
“That’s why bringing an untrained Phoenix into active Fae cases is a mistake.” I feel my face go hot in reaction to his insult instantly. He continues, a smirk tickling the corners of his lips. “A Lycan is a hunter, controlled and always in charge of its prey. Whatever did this is no Lycan.”
He lowers his brows, glaring at me. For a moment, I see a flicker of the beast in his eyes, and I understand exactly what he’s telling me. He’s in control, and if I’m not careful, I would be his prey.
He sighs and shifts upright, casually adding, “What you’re looking for is a mongrel.”
If steam could come out of my nose, it would be right now. I can confirm— he is definitely guilty of being a prick. “A mongrel?” I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s pissed me off.
He glances in Piper’s direction and not hiding his annoyance grumbles, “You really should be teaching her these things.” His head jerks back toward me as he adds, “A mongrel us an unapproved wolf shifter.”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I warn, scooting to the front of my seat.
In an instant, Lord Ardack slams his open hands onto the wooden desktop raising up from his chair and perches himself over me. I feel Piper’s hand on my chest, restraining me. She leans in, placing herself directly in the path of Lord Ardack and myself.
“Know your place,” he growls.
My muscles freeze. I can see other Lycan in their form at all times, but Lord Ardack is different. Until this moment, I hadn’t seen the monster lurking beneath the veil he has cast over himself. The small glimpse I get terrifies me as he flashes me his long and glistening teeth.
Piper’s head is still down, staring at the floor. “She doesn’t understand our ways yet. We are so sorry. We beg you for mercy.”
My mouth opens ready to unleash an unholy hell on him, but when he shrinks back into his seat, straightening out his suit, I decide perhaps this isn’t a hornet's nest I should be poking.
“Very well, but there won’t be another warning,” he growls.
“Yes, thank you, Sir,” she says sitting back in her seat, folding her hands in her lap.
What in the hell just happened?
“I’m very busy, is there anything else?” he asks, glancing at the clock on the wall impatiently.
Anger blaze
s from my eyes as I fixate my stare on him.
“Yes, Miss Crown?” he asks grimacing. “It looks as though you have something else to say.”
My head is pulsing with fury, there’s a black cloud encroaching on my vision, and I have to fight the urge to leap from my chair and plant my fist upside his smug, chiseled jawline.
I suck in a sharp breath through my nostrils and exhale it slowly, trying to extinguish the fire inside my belly. “Are there a lot of those?”
He looks confused by my question.
“Mongrels,” I clarify. “Are there a lot of them?”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I wonder if I’ve managed to rattle him finally or if he’s playing me.
“There shouldn’t be any,” he begins with carefully measured words. “Anyone who is even considered for the transformation undergoes a thorough background check. It’s a rare honor for us to turn someone these days. Some go their entire lives trying to prove themselves.”
“If you turn others so rarely, how does your species survive?” I ask.
Piper leans in and whispers, “Two Lycans can reproduce.”
My brow stitches together in surprise as I peer back at her. She nods, confirming her statement.
“So, how do mongrels exist then?”
He sighs, clearly growing impatient from my line of questioning. “I suppose a kill gone wrong, but that doesn’t make sense either.”
“Let me guess: Lycans are far too skilled and perfect to mess up a kill,” I taunt.
“Miss Crown, you continually prove why we Lycans are so careful with our reproductive practices. Though, I never expected much from a half-breed orphan.” He hurls the words at me like a weapon, and just as he intended, they connect dead on with his target.
“I’m not an orphan. Joe was my parent,” I correct him coolly.
“Joe understood our traditions. I’m surprised he didn’t teach you better.”
I feel Piper’s hand on my leg, trying to calm me, but there’s no need. I might want to kill this man in this exact moment, but I’m not about to let him know how much he has upset me. “If we can stay focused on the case, Lord Ardack, that would be helpful.”