“She’s gone. He killed her and I couldn’t stop it.” Duncan crawled forward, reaching for his wife’s hand.
“Who? Who killed her?” There was blood everywhere and his Alpha female lay with her head removed from her body. “Don’t touch her. I’m coming.” Alistair glanced up and found Laurel waiting outside. He moved around Duncan and went to unlock the door, ushering her inside. Rain had started falling in earnest and he shut the doors quickly.
Laurel wrinkled her nose, drawing her brows together as she took in the scene. “Alpha…” Her gaze shot from Julia to Duncan and she shook her head. Opening her mouth to speak, she shut it almost immediately.
Alistair shook his head and pointed two fingers around the room, indicating she should watch and observe. Laurel nodded and began to move.
“Duncan,” Alistair went down on one knee and shook him. “Alpha, did you do this?”
“I can’t. I can’t…” The Alpha got to his feet, blood smeared and eyes wild. Tears slid down his cheeks; soft cries turned to wracking sobs. Duncan howled, his human cries morphing into those of a wolf. He shifted in front of them and burst through the glass into the rainy night.
“Shit!” Shards of glass and rain exploded into the room. Laurel cried out, backing away. Rubbing at her arms, she joined Alistair as he ran to the door, the crunch of broken glass loud under his boots. “He’s gone. Did he do this?”
“I don’t know.” Alistair turned and, looking back into the room, surveyed the damage. He returned to Julia, staring down at her body, disbelief churning through him.
“Look at the marks on her forehead.” He turned his head and spotted a single pearlescent feather. He reached down to pick it up. “What do you see?”
Laurel narrowed her eyes. “What is that symbol?”
“I don’t know. Go get your phone, you need to take a picture of it. I don’t want to touch her.”
The female werewolf shook her head. “You don’t have to, but we’re going to need this later. We have to call the police.”
“Police or the protectorate? I don’t want the human police involved. They have no bearing here.”
“I agree, but what are we supposed to tell the people who ask about Julia? The pack… they’re going to want to know.” Laurel moved away, rubbing at her arms.
“Fine. I’ll get the protectorate. Roark and Fenris will help. I think.” Alistair sighed. “We need a witch.”
“A witch? Why? Duncan will be pissed. Is that what you want? Now?”
Alistair sighed. “I don’t see what other choice we have.”
Hyacinth, one of the young wolves, came running into the hall. “Alistair… Laurel. There’s something wrong in Julia’s chamber. There’s blood and… oh, no…” Her eyes centered on Julia’s body and the girl collapsed into Laurel’s arms in a bout of noisy tears.
“What else did you see?” Alistair pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the body and the room, his thoughts in turmoil. What had happened here, and why had Duncan run away like a madman?
“There was a spell book.”
Laurel’s gaze met his over the top of the girl’s head. “Call the Protectorate.”
“No one can know. We have to keep this room cordoned off. At least until they get here.” The series of murders and wolf attacks recently plaguing Salem were up front and foremost in his thoughts. That was why he and Laurel were on patrol. The other wolves had taken farther reaching points, but they had kept in touch via radio. He’d also double checked via cameras they had installed around the closer portions of woods on the estate.
Someone else was behind the attacks. He felt it in his bones. This was another complication he and the pack didn’t need. Not with the potential for the public to find out just what kind of creatures lived among them.
Alistair sighed. He would handle this. Laurel was a strong Alpha female in training. She would keep the others in line while he did some digging around. Jessup had called to remind Alistair that he’d offered to come with him for some of the touristy events in town and he’d already told Jess he’d be there as the pack representative. To back out now would draw unwanted attention and put a spotlight on the fact that Duncan had lost his shit. He was the Alpha’s right hand, and it was right that he step in, but after months of watching his Alpha deteriorate, he wasn’t sure it was going to be enough anymore.
Alistair ground his teeth.
“What about Duncan?”
“The gates are shut and the perimeter secure. It’s all we can do for now.”
“And if he did this?”
“Then I hope the gates will hold him. For all of our sakes.”
Chapter Two
Salem-Present day
Jennifer trudged through the woods, branches clawing at her clothes. Oak and maple leaves crunched beneath her booted feet, the wind whipping up the short skirt of her sexy witch costume. She gripped the handle of the flashlight, shining its light up ahead. “How much further is it?”
Her friend Lonnie rolled her eyes, rambling ahead of her. The purple and black stockings covering her legs matched the band around the enormous witch hat pinned to her head. “Not much farther.”
The scent of burning wood hung thick in the chill October night air, mixing with the smell of green growing things and the sweet, sickly smell of an animal recently deceased. The leaves still clung to their amber and orange hue, not that she was able to see much of it at this hour of the night. All the trees did was hide the light of the moon and make it harder for her to see.
A dangling spider web clung to Jennifer’s face and she swiped at it, trying not to trip on the uneven ground beneath her feet. Roots and rocks emerged through the soil and, combined with the covering of leaves, made for a slick surface. She didn’t plan on falling on her face so she tried to mind her steps
Lonnie told her they were dressing for a party, not for traipsing around the woods in the late hours of the night. Jennifer thought they were going to one of the haunted attractions or even the Psychic Fair. But, no, they were wandering the woods like a couple of idiot tourists who didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.
“You said there was going to be a bonfire. Now we’re lost in the middle of the woods. This is stupid.” The comment sounded a little whiney, even to herself, but she really didn’t care. Being out here was creeping her out. She’d watched the local news on her phone right before she left. That had been a huge mistake. “That girl… the one they found murdered by the bar. I don’t think we should be out here.”
A gust of wind whistled through the trees and Jennifer jumped.
“You wanted to come to Salem for the… what did you call it again? Witchy action? Don’t be a stick in the mud.” Lonnie paused and, holding the flashlight beneath her chin, turned back to make a face at Jen.
Jennifer yelped and Lonnie’s contemptuous tone sparked her anger.
“You really are a jerk; you know that? I could be back at the parade or whatever. It’s safer with more people. Why did we have to come out here?”
Lonnie sighed. She lowered the flashlight and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you want to see some real witches and not the painted up Goth chicks from the flyer?”
“Isn’t that what we came out here for? To see all the fun stuff?”
“I want to see something real, so shut up and come on.” Lonnie trudged forward through the woods, winding between trees with effortless ease. “The clearing is supposed to be just a few yards ahead. Hold up your phone.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t we’re going to get lost, idiot.”
“I think we’re already lost.”
“We are not. It’s not that far from the street anyway. Just use the map and look for the coordinates I gave you earlier.”
“It doesn’t have an address. How am I supposed to look it up?”
Lonnie stopped and gave her a malevolent glare. “Give me that.” She yanked the phone out of Jennifer’s hand and stared at the scree
n.
“You can’t see it either, can you?” Jennifer’s lips twisted up in a smug grin. “Told you. So now what, oh fearless one?”
“We keep going.”
“In the middle of the woods? With a serial killer running around? You’re nuts. I’m going back.” Jennifer spun on her heel, intending to march back the way she had come.
“To what?”
Jennifer turned around. “Pizza. A warm bed. Parties that don’t involve creepy trees feeling me up in the dark.”
“You have no sense of adventure.”
“Why can’t we go back to the hotel and wait for the festival in the daylight? What’s wrong with that? There’s one in the commons. It was listed in the Haunted Happenings brochure.” Jennifer glared at Lonnie but she had already walked off, dismissing her.
“What’s with you? God, you’re such a chicken shit. It can’t be much further.” Lonnie continued into the thick of the woods, leaving Jennifer to gape after her.
“You know, I really wish we’d stayed at the hotel. I could have watched Supernatural or Walking Dead all night on Netflix. But no, we had to come out here. God, I hate you. I wish I’d never agreed to come.” Jennifer stomped through the leaves toward her friend.
Lonnie doubled back, her eyes narrowed as she moved into Jennifer’s personal space. “You hate me? Ha! You’re just jealous of my sense of direction.”
“Fine. Yes. I’m jealous of your finger punching GPS abilities. Some witch you are when you can’t even tell north from south without your cell phone. Can we just give it up, already? I’m starving.”
Lonnie sighed, the flashlight wobbling in her grip. “Okay. Fine. Your loss. I’m not going to fight you anymore. Just remember, when we get back and the rest of this trip sucks with all the plastic witch noses and tourist crap, that this was your fault.”
“My fault?” Jennifer sputtered, but her anger died as quickly as it flared when a noise sounded in the brush close by. “Yeah, whatever. Just let’s go, okay?”
“Stop being bitchy. I’m coming.”
Jennifer peered into the inky black, the chill of the night seeping deeper through her clothes. “Something’s out there,” she whispered. She aimed the flashlight, but there was nothing save the seemingly endless expanse of trees.
“It’s just your imagination. Come on. You ruined it. Let’s go.” Lonnie clomped by her, the short witch costume flipping up and flashing her bright orange underwear.
“I did not need to see that.”
“Shut up and come on.”
Another twig snapped and the sound of a growl filled the night.
“Lonnie…” Jennifer darted forward and grabbed her arm.
“I heard it.” She lifted her flashlight and surveyed the area around them, her brows drawn together, her mouth set in a hard line.
“Hurry up. Let’s go. The closer we get to town, the less likely whatever it is will follow.”
“Tell that to the dead girl by the bar.”
“What?”
“I tried to tell you. They found some girl murdered by that place. The Copper Kettle I think it was called. They said her throat was torn out.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. We were leaving so I didn’t get to watch the whole thing.”
A low growl filled the silence and Jennifer yelped, yanking Lonnie forward. “Come on!”
“I said I was coming…” Lonnie jerked out of her grip and began to follow. “Why do you always have to make things… what is that? Jennif…” The rest was swallowed by a scream.
Jennifer stopped, pivoting back around. She lifted the flash light. “Are you okay?” Then she saw the creature, hulking in the darkness. Fangs and fur and dripping blood. Lonnie’s blood.
“Oh my God.” Jennifer backed away, her shoes slipping on the wet leaves, and began to run. She heard the beast follow and strained harder to move. Her legs pumped as fast as they could but, when she felt the fetid breath of the creature’s mouth at the back of her neck, she didn’t even scream as the creature took her down and tore out her throat.
Chapter Three
Alistair stalked the halls of Briarwood Manor, a snarl on his lips. His Alpha was missing. Again. His pack was in trouble and it was up to him to keep it from breaking under the weight of his Alpha’s downward spiral. Every day the man slipped closer and closer to the brink of madness, and Alistair feared he would be the one to have to either reign him in or put him out of his misery.
Gods, but he couldn’t bear to think about what that might mean.
Located in a wooded area just outside of Salem, there was at least some barrier between the estate and the public at large. With sixteen foot, silver tipped, and warded wrought iron fencing to keep interlopers out, it also served to keep his Alpha and anyone else in. For now.
The man was mad with grief from the loss of his wife, and when he was in human form his ramblings about witches and curses brought a chill to Alistair’s soul. He’d tried talking with him, but suspected this had gone far beyond his limited experience in the matter.
He rounded the corner of the gallery and nearly bumped into Laurel, one of the dominant females from the pack. She was dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater, her boots shiny with damp. “Any sign of him?”
“No.” Laurel frowned. “He may have shifted and gone into the more wooded area of the property. I could radio Oliver and have him check farther out.”
“Do that.” Alistair paused, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Duncan has a meeting with some of the members of the Protectorate tonight. I can’t send an excuse like I did the last time.”
Laurel blanched. “What will you do? He won’t want pack affairs brought out in the open. You know that.”
“He hasn’t left me with very many options, has he?” Alistair snapped. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded woodenly and her jaw tightened. “There’s been another attack in town. A pixie, I think.”
“Shit.”
“Ask them about it. Fenris will know. Duncan should be a part of this and, from what I hear, Roark is in a lather about changing the girl.”
“He turned someone?” Alistair blinked. Everyone knew the old vampire master had an aversion to any kind of power exchange, blood or otherwise. He took. That was what vampires did. To hear that he’d done anything else…
“I’ll talk to them.”
“Good.”
“Where is the meeting?”
“Now. In the den. Would you send them up when they arrive, and make sure the kitchen follows up with some refreshments?”
“Certainly.”
“Thank you.” Alistair turned and stalked down the ornately carpeted hallway, trying to remember a time when he wasn’t playing catch up in a game that didn’t include him as a rightful player. He was a Beta but, more and more every day, he wondered how long that would last.
He passed by the Great Hall, hardly able to think about the last time he’d had a late night meeting at the estate. The night his Alpha female was found with her throat torn out. It twisted his guts to think about it. This had to end. Duncan’s insane wanderings had to cease, but he was going to need help to contain him.
He opened the door to the Alpha’s study and went to the window, looking out at the dark woods beyond. Lightning flashed in the distance, drops of rain falling in light taps on the glass.
“Where are you, Duncan?”
“Talking to yourself, friend?”
Alistair’s eyes flickered and he caught the fae lord’s reflection in the glass. It was no surprise to turn around and also find Roark, the Master vampire, standing alongside him.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I take it we don’t have the pleasure of your Alpha’s company yet again,” Roark replied drily. The vampire made his way into the room, looking very much the long haired Victorian nobleman about the town.
“No. Would you gentlemen please take a seat? There’s something we need to discuss.”
“
Thank you. Alistair, is it?” Fenris inquired.
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
The door opened up to reveal one of the kitchen staff laden with a try.
Alistair stood to greet her. “Thank you, Roberta. That’ll be all.” He took the tray from her and set it down on the desk.
“Do you want me to serve, sir?” The pretty young wolf waited expectantly.
“Thank you, no. I’ll be happy to do that. Go ahead about your night.”
“As you wish, sir. Gentlemen.” Roberta curtsied, closing the door behind her as she went.
Fenris watched their interaction with closed features. “What is this about?” He approached the desk and selected a glass of iced tea.
“Roark?” Alistair handed him a wine glass filled with blood. The Master vampire took it from him with a nod and went over to stand next to the window, staring out into the night sky.
“Thank you. Now, where is Duncan?”
“Something’s happened.” Alistair perched on the edge of the desk. “His moods have been increasingly erratic and, when Julia was found dead, we knew this was out of our hands.”
“When?”
“A few months ago. He’s been here and left before any of us can find him.”
“Months?” Roark raised an eyebrow and took a sip, setting the wine glass down on the window ledge. “You waited months to tell us the random wolf attacks could be related to Duncan?”
“We already knew that, Roark.” Fenris responded quietly, his gaze pensive. “When we encountered them on the street the night Mari was attacked, we knew something was wrong.”
Laurel entered the den, her face pale and drawn.
Alistair stood. “Laurel, I can handle this.”
“I know you can, but I also know what I found in her room.”
“In her room? Julia’s room?” Fenris placed his tea glass on the desk. “Can you show us?”
Laurel nodded. “I left it, but I wish I hadn’t. There was just no reason to go in the master suites with the Alpha gone.”
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