Soft Fate (Wolven Moon Book 2)

by Dany Rae Miller

  “Nooooooo!” I bring my head up and connect solidly with a nose.

  “Fuck me!” A male voice groans and one of my hands is let go of.

  I can see blurry figures now, but that’s it. I ratchet my elbow out to the side and follow up with a punch, getting a rib.

  “Shavone!” It’s Nash.

  “You’re safe, little witch.” It’s Enrique.

  What?

  Panting, I blink at the familiar faces coming into focus and stop fighting. “Oh my god.” I sniffle back tears of relief.

  “I’ve got you.” Enrique hauls me onto his lap, cupping my head and holding me close. “I’ve got you, mi dulce.”

  At the makeup counter, Tanya, the Dollhouse manager, holds a towel to Antonio’s face. He’s perched on a stool with his head back.

  “I think you broke his nose, Shav.” My gaze flicks up to Nash. “Good girl.” He gives me a strange proud frown.

  “I’m sorry, Antonio.”

  Holding the towel to his still bleeding nose, he waves me off with a groan.

  The black knitted thing lays on the floor near my feet. I kick it. “It’s a ski mask. Fairly certain it’s the one the female attacker wore.”

  “And obviously it’s hexed,” Jack says from the threshold of the room.

  I nod. “When I touched it, I relived every second of the attack.”

  “Is that so?” Nash scoops it up, and waits. He shakes his head with a sigh. “Apparently, it’s personalized just for you.”

  Why?

  “The mask was stuffed in that robe.” I point at it, then at the babydoll. “I was wearing that when I was abducted.”

  Nash’s eyes flick to Enrique. “I told you this was an inside job.” He brings the ski mask to his nose. “Charcoal.”

  The zephyr is back, bouncing around the room. I try to push out of Enrique’s arms. Gripping me tighter, he shakes his head.

  “I need to close the spell, so the spirits can return to their world.”

  “Okay.” He kisses my forehead and stands, pulling me up with him and keeping hold of my hands.

  “Test your legs.”

  I take a few steps. “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Brow creased with concern, his hands float on either side ready to catch me.

  I jump up and down for him, clap my hands over my head. “See?”

  “Show off.” He smirks.

  I smile at him. “I’m okay.”

  “Close your damn spell,” Nash barks. He points at the suit wearing investigator and another uniformed officer. “As soon as she’s done, we’re going to search every square inch of this place, again. I don’t give a shit how long it takes.”

  Lifting the still lit candle, I walk over to Antonio.

  “Spirits, ancestors, powers of the north, east, south and west, hear me now and do your best.” I put my hand on his arm. “Wrap this wolf with your love, snug and tight like a glove. Because of me, this injury he bore, take my remorse to his core.”

  Antonio’s eyes widen. “My god. I feel your soul.” It’s his wolf in his voice and in his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “Thank you. Would you move the towel from your nose?”

  He does.

  “Bright light, shining light” — I pour a few drops of wax on the pads of my fingers — “heal his pain, use your might.” I smear the wax gently on his nose.

  I decide another request for my pendant couldn’t hurt.

  “Once more, as before” — I set the candle back on the counter and touch the burn on my chest — “Here the trinket should be, what was taken, return to me. Please, what is mine I’m desperate to find.”

  The flame shoots up. Oh, good. They’re going to help me.

  “Ancestors, spirits, elements from earth and sky, thank you for coming nigh.”

  The zephyr flits around Antonio, making him inhale sharply. His jaw opens, his expression one of bliss.

  “It harm done, these spells are done,” I murmur, watching him.

  Instead of snuffing out the flame and going with it to the other side, the warm breeze leaves Antonio and moves to Enrique. He, too, gasps as though in beatitude to the divine, closing his eyes and raising his face to it. It leaves him and comes to me. Starting at my feet, it twirls up to lift my hair. I smile at the soft caress.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. Finally, the zephyr wraps around the flame and snuffs it out.

  chapter 16

  Everyone in the room is stunned into silence. My brother comes out of the reverie before me. “That was Mom,” Antonio murmurs.

  Still in shock, I can only nod.

  My manager, Tanya, stands stock still with a hand over her mouth. “Goodness gracious, girl. You summoned Josephina?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  The woman’s eyes remain big as saucers. “You are so damn powerful, Shavone.”

  “And yet she rarely uses it for herself.” My wolf is out of his daze and livid.

  The little witch is strong enough to summon my mother. Yet just moments ago, she lay on the floor screaming. The image of her tormented like that twists my stomach.

  I point at the black ski mask. “Whoever put the hex on that thing and you isn’t a match for you? Do you understand?”

  “Brother.” Antonio tests his nose. It no longer bleeds, so he stands.

  I ignore him.

  “All this kicking and punching is for the weak!” My wolf rages at Shavone. “You are not weak! The next time someone tries to hurt you” — the beast gets more irate and louder with each syllable — “hurl a wrath at them, bring them to their knees and kill them!”

  She steps back, away from the blast of my fury.

  “Cruz.” There’s pity in the detective’s eyes.

  Fuck him. He’s part of the problem. Had he done his wolven duty properly, she’d be better prepared.

  I focus on my witch. She lifts her chin, meeting my fuming wolf head-on.

  “If I would have done that just now, I could have killed them.” She includes everyone in the room with a wave of a hand. “And you.” She shakes her head. “I’m not that kind of a witch, Enrique.”

  Chest heaving with outrage, my beast gapes at her.

  What happened to your sense of self-preservation?

  “Come on.” Antonio grips my shoulder. “You need to cool off.”

  I shrug off his hand, my eyes riveted on Shavone.

  “Now,” my brother points to the door.

  Reluctantly, I move. Jack, standing in the threshold and white as a sheet, steps out of my way. Once in the hall, I move faster, barging out of the employee exit.

  Antonio is right at my heels.

  I pace the side of the building. He motions to the alley. “Walk.”

  Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I take fast, long strides, doing my best to calm the beast. He’s not easily placated. A lifetime of worrying about the little witch has finally boiled over.

  “My god, Shavone is a phenomenal witch,” Antonio murmurs.

  “Yes, phenomenal,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “I’m serious. What I felt when she touched me, fucking amazing.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “No one has been able to reach Mom. Not even Kennedy.”

  I knew the instant the energy touched me that it belonged to our mother. Unfortunately, the joy of experiencing her love was quickly replaced by overwhelming anger. Stoked by my greatest fear — that the hunters will find Shavone and kill her.

  “Why won’t she use her power to help herself, Antonio? Why?”

  He laughs. “She’s a fucking Soft.”

  I’m not that kind of witch.

  Yes, I know. Brutality isn’t in the Soft nature, hence the slaughter of the family that fateful night. But she used her craft then, thankfully.

  “She saved herself as a child,” I counter.

  “No.” Antonio shakes his head. “By Uncle Agustin’s account, she used magick when you were in danger, not before.”
>
  I falter a step on the truth of it. My stride shortens. Her very life may depend on using witchcraft to save herself. The thought that she wouldn’t sends my blood pressure into the stratosphere.

  “You saved her and she saved you. Your wolf gave her the strength to do what was necessary. Mate or not, isn’t that your Lycan function?”

  I stop walking to stare at my wiser than me younger brother.

  I failed her just now.

  I didn’t give her strength. I attacked her. Damn it. The size of her eyes, the shock and hurt in her expression. She backed away, wary of my beast for the first time.

  “What have I done?” My wolf whines his remorse.

  “You lost your cool for a second.” Antonio begins to walk again. “You aren’t the first wolf, and won’t be the last.”

  I fall into step with him. “It’s a bit different for the world when I lose my cool, or have you forgotten?”

  He grimaces recalling another time I lost my cool. “I never blamed you for your reaction.”

  “Others in the Nation did, still do.”

  He shrugs. “If she can summon Mom, again, maybe we can get the truth and shut them up once and for all.”

  I snort. “You’re assuming Shavone will even let me near her, again.”

  “C’mon. She’ll understand. Your wolf exploded, because you’re worried about her. And for good reason. Someone is targeting her.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  I realize just how little I know about my witch. I know of her friends, the major milestones in her life. All the things one can know from afar. But I don’t know her. Her thought processes, how she copes with disappointments, her capacity for empathy and forgiveness.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” His face breaks into a broad smile. “I thought mating was supposed to mellow a wolf.”

  “Apparently not.” I grimace. “Everything is heightened — anger, worry.”

  “Everything?” Antonio waggles his eyebrows.

  I chuckle. “Everything.” I cup the back of his head playfully. “Don’t ask for details, hmmm, brother.”

  Our pace has slowed to a stroll.

  “Did you see Jack’s face?” He barks a laugh. “I don’t know what scared her more — Shavone’s power or your wrath.”

  I smirk. “Careful. If she hears you, the barren high priestess will reassign you to a crone.”

  “Jack can’t pull that shit anymore. She’s been demoted.”

  I stop walking.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Kennedy heads the Alliance now.”

  “Since when?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. The kidnapping? Her first move was taking over the Soft case.”

  Holy shit. What a stunning development. If only it had happened years ago. As an ordinary council member, Kennedy’s vote was useless. With her as chair, Shavone and I could have had very different lives.

  Something isn’t right.

  The beast vibrates.

  I tilt my head at Antonio. “What the hell is Jack doing at the Dollhouse, then?”

  Giving my wolf permission to move like the wind, I pivot. Antonio, a few steps behind me, follows.

  The common Native stationed at the front of the Dollhouse broadens his stance as I slow to a walk and approach.

  “Do you wish to die today?” My beast snarls.

  The officer averts his eyes, and leans out of the way as I open the door. Wise. He’s obviously a Native first, a cop second.

  Denver PD has a number of wolves — Native, Norse and French, on staff. The chief of police is always a wolf, rotating through the nations. The witches make sure of it. Right now, the office is held by a Norse.

  Inside, I scan the lounge. A few dancers have arrived, summoned by LaFontaine for questioning. The girls and Tanya, have pushed two tables together and are gossiping quietly. Shavone is nowhere in sight.

  Strength rather than speed being Antonio’s gift, he catches up with me and makes his way to the bar. I duck into the stockroom. A quick scan of it turns up empty.

  Tanya walks toward me. “Mr. Cruz.”

  “Where’s Shavone?” I ask her.

  “In your office, I think,” she says. “Listen. The girls are wondering when we’ll reopen.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They have bills to pay,” she calls after me as I rush across the lounge to the hall.

  “We’ll discuss it later.” I flick the curtain aside.

  Why Shavone would want to see me, I don’t know. Criticizing her will to fight by whatever means she can was wrong. Insulting, even.

  I knock lightly on the office door. Her scent isn’t strong enough. I know before I push the door fully open that she isn’t in the room.

  I check the dressing room closest to the office. My dread grows to a boil when in the third dressing room are only the detective and his minions tearing it apart.

  She’s gone.

  This is my fault. While I wallowed in the alley, I left her at risk.

  “Shavone!” I bellow down the hall, breaking into a run. I check both women’s bathrooms, take another scan of the lounge and bar, finishing with a second dash through the storeroom.

  “Shavone!” The acute panic brings the beast to the surface.

  “What the fuck, Cruz?” LaFontaine enters the lounge, hands on his hips.

  My wolf is out and grabs the detective’s collar.

  “Where is she?” I slam him to the wall. “Where is she?”

  LaFontaine’s beast explodes, lifting me and throwing me into the lounge. Rolling, I shift completely. With a growl, I’m on my feet, lunging at him. My left claw rakes cloth and skin from his right arm, across his chest.

  The employees wisely scurry out the front door as the giant French alpha roars himself to wolf, shredding his clothes while simultaneously coming at me with a right hook. He’s bigger, but I’m faster. I dodge low, taking his knees. The detective lands on his back with a mighty boom.

  “Enrique!” Antonio’s shout barely registers through the blind rage of my beast.

  LaFontaine and I grapple on the floor, knocking over chairs and tables. Snarling, the detective attempts to pin me against the stage. I kick my feet, scratching his stomach. He yelps as I flip him with a thud onto the platform. Nostrils flared, he scrambles left, taking a swipe across my cheek.

  “Hooooowl.” I bay in pain.

  When I step back to circle around the giant wolf, a half dozen police officers surround me. Four of them block Antonio as well. I’ll tear through all of them if necessary.

  The French alpha lumbers toward me. Blood drips from my face. I brace for his attack. Instead of coming for me, he shifts human.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  One of LaFontaine’s minions tosses him a pair of slacks.

  I shift as well, but remain alert.

  “Where is my mate?”

  “She deserves better than a fucking hot head like you, and you know it.” He zips his fly.

  I growl, taking a step toward him. The plains clothes investigator draws his gun.

  “Where is she?” I murmur low.

  “Relax, alright. She’s in the office.” He points to the hall.

  He’s denser than I thought.

  “We just loudly tore through the lounge and she didn’t try to stop us.”

  LaFontaine stops examining his injuries to scan the room.

  “She left in the Saturn about five minutes ago,” the suited investigator says.

  “By herself?” I growl.

  “Yeah.”

  “You let her leave alone?” The detective roars. “Fuck!” He leaps from the stage to his tattered pants by the bar, producing a phone from a pocket. “Anything happens to her” —

  “You’re dead,” I hiss.

  The man blanches.

  Antonio shoves through the circle with a pair of jeans for me.

  LaFontaine thumbs the phone screen. On speaker, we hear the call go straight to her voic
email.

  “Shavone!” He barks. “Where the fuck are you?”

  He hangs up to thumb the screen, again. It rings through to a police operator.

  “Put out a BOLO for a blonde white female driving a 2001 white Saturn coupe.” The detective gives the car’s plate number and listens for a moment. “No. No, arrest. If seen, keep eyes on her until I get there. Do it now!” He hangs up.

  Meanwhile, I find my own phone.

  He motions to one of the uniformed cops. “Put your radio on speaker.” After a moment of static, the same female voice calmly repeats the information.

  I tap Uncle Agustin’s number.

  “Hello, Enrique,” Uncle answers.

  “Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  “Good. Call me immediately if Shavone shows up there.”

  “I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?”

  “We don’t know. She left the Dollhouse alone. Call me immediately if you see her.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I hang up and find Cherie Valentine on my contact list. She picks up on the first ring.

  “What do you mean Shav’s gone?” The girl sounds disgusted.

  “Her car is gone as is her purse.” A putrid bile of guilt rises from my stomach. At least she wasn’t abducted this time. She left on her own volition.

  To get away from me.

  “She didn’t say goodbye and we simply want to be sure she’s safe,” I say.

  “Did you call her?” Cherie asks.

  “Straight to voicemail,” the detective answers.

  “Well, she’s not with Lauralynn and me. I’ll call the rest of the coven. And, Gabs. Maybe Shavone decided to move into the Santana mansion after all.”

  Maybe she did.

  LaFontaine grins and nods. “One can only hope.”

  My heart cracks, the fissure deeper and more painful than the one striped across my face.

  “We’ll call Gabby.” The Taylor girl speaks into the phone. “Did you check Shavone’s old place?”

  “Not yet. That’s a good suggestion, Miss Taylor,” I murmur, my heart heavy with doubt and pain.

  “Thought we agreed on first names?” There is a tone of compassion in her voice. “Listen, I can sense when S is in trouble. I’m fairly certain that she’s fine.”