So was the fact that even though she wrought the Curse, she still suffered with them.
Victoria wanted to find compassion for the witch, she knew it was the right thing to do, but she had none. Whatever had happened to her, no matter how traumatic, made what she’d done okay. Even if she still suffered too.
But what had happened to her?
The witch’s eyes flashed open. “Bring me your Alpha.” Her voice resonated with the power of centuries and shook the walls.
“No.”
“Obey me.”
“Fuck yourself,” she snarled. But she stayed. Victoria didn’t know why she stayed, it wasn’t any compulsion from the witch.
“Would you really deny your pack the chance for freedom? Bring me your Alpha.”
“You did this to us. You don’t get to toy with us further. Soon, either the whole pack will be exterminated, or the walls will be too weak to hold us and we’ll infect the world. That’s your doing.”
The ground began to shake.
“Bring him and I’ll tell him how to free us all.”
Suddenly, the witch was gone and so was the cave. Victoria was standing alone in a dark part of the forest that was unknown to her.
She knew she’d have to tell Armand about what had happened, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to give that witch anything she desired.
But what if it could save them?
As of now, they were playing blind. She had to find out more about the witch. The Calavari witches might be able to help, for a price. Armand said he had the funds to pay, so she’d see just how deep that sentiment and his pockets ran. Witches didn’t like parting with their knowledge, even for obscene amounts of money.
The boundaries called her, tugged at her awareness and drew her back toward Malfleur. She found a soft, cotton dress wrapped in a tree stump. Something that must’ve been protected by magic and a throwback to the days before the Curse when people kept clothes stashed for after their runs beneath the moon.
A time that she didn’t believe would come again.
When she wandered back to the main hall, she found Armand holding court almost like royalty of old. He’d been immediately accepted by the pack and she could see why. He handed out loaves of fresh bread, sides of beef and yet more of the tonic. Where had he gotten it? And how had he gotten it so quickly?
She supposed there were benefits to being a witch. They hadn’t had a pack witch in so long, Victoria didn’t know what that was like.
“I need to speak with you,” she said as she approached him.
“You Changed, didn’t you?” he said quietly.
“I did, but that’s not… come with me.” What was she doing? Why was she going to give the witch exactly what she wanted? She shook her head and exhaled heavily. Armand would demand to go see for himself anyway. Her only option was to not speak of it, but even a lie of omission was still a lie. She wouldn’t reward what he’d done there with betrayal, no matter how small.
Except, if she delivered him into the hands of their enemy wasn’t that also a betrayal?
“Where are we going?”
“The deep, dark woods.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She leaned close to his ear. “We can’t talk here.”
“They’re not children, you know.”
“What?”
“Your pack. They don’t need to be protected.”
“What have you done?” Horror tinged her voice.
“I’ve done nothing like what you’re thinking, but we don’t need to shield them from everything. We can’t function as a pack without everyone working together. At some point, not using an injured limb isn’t helping it heal. It turns necrotic.”
“Who are you to decide what’s right for people I’ve known my whole life? How do you know what’s better for them than me?”
“I am the Alpha.” He didn’t shout at her, but she felt the resonance of his power all the same. “If it was your place, you would be Alpha. You are a good Beta. You could be an Alpha, but not of the Ardennes pack.” His fingertips crackled with electric light.
His magic.
She squared her shoulders. “No Alpha is complete without his Beta. There’s a reason I think the things I do. There’s a reason I advise you as I do. And it is all for the pack.” Victoria studied him. “Why don’t you get angry and snarl at me? Why do you tolerate outright defiance in front of others?”
“Because your counsel, even contrary to mine isn’t defiance. It has value to the pack. Any Alpha who won’t tolerate someone disagreeing with him, speaking to him looking to have their fears allayed is no true Alpha. If he needs to bark that he is an Alpha, he is not. Alphas lead by example.”
“Goddess, it’s like you went to Alpha Academy or something.” She shook her head.
“I did. I grew up at the right hand of Antony Rommulus. He is the best of them.” His chest puffed out with pride.
“I wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d had you even a hundred years ago.”
His chest deflated. “Now you see I’m not perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been ready to take my place as Alpha for two hundred years. But I didn’t want to challenge my father or leave my home. That was weakness.”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “That was loyalty. That was valuing family and pack over personal needs. Maybe things could’ve been different if you’d come sooner, but maybe not. Maybe you wouldn’t be who you are, or the Alpha we need.”
The activity around them had stopped and each person present followed their exchange avidly, waiting to see what would happen.
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Goddess willing.”
“Come. Let me take you to the forest.”
She led him back to the place where she’d found the cave. “I saw the witch.”
“Where is she?”
“She said to bring you here. She said you could save us.”
“I can.”
He sounded so sure of himself, she almost believed him.
“I brought you. I don’t know what else she wants.”
“Victoria, are you sure she was here?”
The kind understand in his eyes was almost too much. “Yes! I spoke to her.”
“If you were Changed how did you get beyond the border?”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I think it’s because of you. The borders haven’t failed, I can still feel them tugging at my other skin.” She exhaled heavily. “But they will. They get thinner with each moon that passes.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“How can you promise me that?”
“You said there are some things you just know. This is one of those things I just know.”
The cavern appeared, and the suspended witch in all her dark majesty loomed. But Armand couldn’t see it.
He looked through the apparition as if it weren’t even there.
“He cannot see me, can he?” The witch’s voice was strangely gentle.
Victoria shook her head.
“That’s because he has hope. He won’t see me until all hope is lost, until he has nothing left, but me.”
His head cocked to the side and Victoria could tell he was aware of another presence, but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “There is something here.”
“The witch is here. But she says you won’t see her until you’ve lost all hope.”
“Then you shouldn’t be seeing her either. I don’t care if you disagree with me. I don’t care if you contradict me openly. I’ll talk it out with you. But if you have to lose all hope to see this witch, then I’ve failed you. You don’t believe in me or yourself.”
She snarled. “You can talk me to about hope after you’ve lived with this Curse your whole life. After you’ve seen it devour everyone and everything you ever cared about.”
“It always comes back to that. Have you ever thought that your life
is more than this Curse? It is something that’s happened to you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”
“But it does define me. It defines the person I have to be, the person I want to be, the choices I make. Everything in my life comes back to the Curse.”
“That’s your choice.”
The witch watched the exchange, but Victoria could detect no joy, no malicious glee in her expression.
He suddenly turned in the general direction of where the witch hung and magic crackled. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.” It wasn’t necessarily a demand or a plea, but a mix of both. He didn’t try to hide his emotion, but neither did he beg.
“Tell him he has to lose hope first.” More tears of blood dripped slowly down her face.
“You already said that,” Victoria whispered.
“I will never lose hope!” He stood taller, prouder, and straighter. “Not until the last breath is gone from my flesh.”
“Then you will fail,” the witch answered. “You must surrender that which is most dear to you. And that is your hope.”
Chapter 5
Later that evening, he was still reeling from the experience in the forest.
“I think we need to talk to the Calavari Three,” she said at last.
“They’re in Prague, aren’t they?”
“Yes. I want to go, since I’ve seen her. The witch. But I don’t trust that I won’t Change.”
“I think we’re past that now, Victoria.” It pained him to say it, ripped a hole inside of him that would be empty forever if he couldn’t break the Curse. “You crossed the borders of Malfleur.”
“You won’t let me hurt anyone, right?”
This was where he would fail. He knew it. He would choose her over the pack. He would choose her over himself. He would choose her over the world.
And so he lied. “I won’t let you hurt anyone. I swear it.”
The bright burning hope inside of him flickered and dimmed just a little bit, but it would be the beginning of the end.
“Then I suppose I should get a bag.”
If not for the Curse, he’d want to take her on an adventure. He’d suggest they run to Prague as wolves, under the clear night sky with only the Goddess’s kiss on their flesh.
But if not for the Curse, they’d have no reason to go to Prague.
The witches would want tribute. They loved gold, but if he offered that first, they’d be offended.
So what did one gift to a three-headed oracle?
An iPod with three earphone ports?
Pack it to the gills with Stevie Nicks and Enya?
A Magic 8 ball?
A Ouija board?
No, he knew just the thing. He got a small container and approached the carnivorous flower for which the town had been named. He thrust his fingers deep into the earth, communing with the roots and magic.
The dark petals unfurled and the bloom seemed to be looking at him, waiting. So he made a gash along his palm that began to heal even before he was done cutting. Blood welled slowly, almost as if it were reluctant to leave his body. He flung it toward the plant, and the bloom snapped shut.
A great root thrust up from the dirt, seeming to offer the same. Something thick, purple and viscous bubbled up from where the plant split itself. He held up the small vial and the substance obediently crawled inside.
What witch could say they had the blood of the Malfleur?
The Calavari Three, after tomorrow.
He hoped he was doing the right thing.
Armand couldn’t deny he was looking forward to the trip. He hated being a car that long, but being trapped with her in the back of an Escalade with reinforced doors and a privacy wall meant to protect the driver from whatever they could throw at him?
For a moment, he let himself wonder what it would be like if he did break the Curse. He would have everything he dreamed of. How was he supposed to let go of hope?
He didn’t want to learn that, he didn’t want his people to learn that.
His cell rang. It was Marchessa, his father’s mate.
The one who’d given him his life when she’d bitten him and infected him with the silver aberration. He’d been slowly dying of silver poisoning.
“Marchessa, how are you?” he said.
“I’ll be fine once I know that you’re okay.”
“Why? What did you hear?” His tone was cavalier.
“I don’t know if I heard anything per se, but I had a dream and you died.”
“Did you tell my father?”
“Of course not.” Her inflected indicated he was stupid for asking. “But we’ve had news of Breslin. He’s been sighted in France. I think he’s coming for you.”
“Good. Then we can end this.” Peter Breslin was a rogue hunter who’d been Turned against his will. Turned to something like him—with an immunity to silver.
“Do you have any idea how to kill him?” Marchessa asked quietly.
“No. But I can contain him in Malfleur. My magic is strong enough.” He hoped.
“The Council has put a bounty on his head. Even those who sided with Luc voted to put him down.”
“Who do we like for it?”
“Lenore Breslin.”
“Shit.”
“Woolven scientists think that maybe bone fairy magic could do it. She’s got a team. A berserker hunter and the bone fairy boogeyman.”
“I’ll let you know if he shows up.”
“Another thing. Woolven’s government contract. They know. If they catch Breslin first, they’ll try to weaponized him. We can’t let that happen. They think they can control him, but we both know how that would end up.”
“I wonder if he’s leading them here on purpose. Those spook ops would be too busy trying to catch us and split us open to worry about Breslin.”
“Probably. Watch your back, Armand.”
“You too, Marchessa.”
“Do you need anything? Don’t be too proud to ask.”
He laughed. “No. I’m not. Remember when I asked for your bite? I’m not above it.”
“Aren’t you leaving something out?”
“I don’t think so.”
“There was a woman in the dream. Your mate.”
“Oh, yeah. That.”
“You’re mated?” Marchessa, normally a very sensible Alpha kind of female, squealed. Like a pup.
“We’re not truly mated. I can’t bite her.”
“Why not? I Changed you. You can Change her. If she’s your mate, truly, biology will do the rest. Sometimes, we get a shit lot, but the physical is where the Goddess didn’t screw us.”
The hope inside of him flared a little before dimming another notch. “I beg to differ. All of the whispers about the Ardennes Curse? They’re true.”
Marchessa was silent for a long moment before speaking again. “Then I guess you’ll just have to break the curse, won’t you?”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. We’re going to visit the Calavari Three to see what they can tell us about the witch who cast it and what we can do to break it.”
“You sound almost like you’re mocking yourself. That tone, like you don’t believe. If you don’t believe it will help, why are you doing it?”
“I just wonder why I will be the one to break it. I know Luc tried. Victoria tried. My mother tried. It’s what killed her. What makes me so special?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Then she laughed. “Except for the part where you’re wolf and witch. Your heart is pure. You’re descended of the cursed and the caster. You have a mate you’re trying to defend. I don’t know, pick something.”
He laughed again. “I guess there’s that.”
“You don’t sound like yourself, Armand. You sound… resigned.”
“The witch told Victoria I wouldn’t be able to save them until I was hopeless.”
“Well fuck her anyway. Rancid bitch. Don’t let anyone tell you who to be or how to do this. There’s a reason you’re the Alpha.
Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, Stepmama.” He teased her to break the tension, and to turn her all-seeing eyes away from his truth.
She took the hint. “Don’t be gross. I love you.”
“Now who’s being gross?” He sighed. “I love you too. Thank you.”
“I want to meet her soon. So will your father.”
“There’s a war on and you want to plan my wedding. I see where this is going.”
“So? Don’t judge.” She clicked her tongue. “Plus, do you know how proud your father is of you? He’ll pop like a tick to know you’ve mated too.”
Victoria’s presence behind him caused him to turn and her eyebrow was arched so high into her hair, he wasn’t quite sure if would ever crawl out.
“Who do you love?” His mate demanded.
Marchessa laughed.
Nope, he was wrong. The eyebrow snapped toward its twin and she scowled as her keen ears picked up the sound of Marchessa’s laughter.
Her teeth looked a little bit sharper.
Twisted bastard that he was, he contemplated letting this play out with no explanation. If she were a wolf like him, he would’ve. He’d goad her to take him down, to mark him. They’d play hard and rough, all the better when he was between her thighs.
But every spike in her emotions could cause her to Change and it was possible with each Change, it could be the last.
“My father’s mate. Marchessa Rommulus.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip and blushed. “You know how it is for newly mated and unmarked…” Without the mark, there wasn’t that connection, that sense of safety. That belonging. It could drive mated couples mad to be close to one another without sharing the bite.
“Put her on the phone.” Marchessa said.
“That’s not going to happen.” He didn’t feel that would end well.
“One of the benefits of being married to a wolf who has more money than Midas could fathom is that if I choose to come there because I want to speak to your mate, I can.”
Marchessa was more than a match for his father, and he knew her fire was good for him. But it was a little embarrassing to be cowed by one’s younger stepmother.
He handed the phone to Victoria, who slapped at it lightly and shook her head vigorously. “Talk, or she’s coming.”
The Ardennes Curse (The Woolven Secret) Page 4