Moonlight Lovers: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 7)

by K. R. Alexander

  “What’s the best place?” I asked.

  “She can come home with us,” Zar volunteered at once. “Mum will—”

  “She’d be better off with people who know something about … people,” Andrew said. “She can take my room and stay with the parents.”

  “We’ll go to Atarah,” Isaac said. “Cassia, this is unprecedented. We have to discuss the situation with Diana, Zacharias, and Atarah anyway. Atarah will help and has the room to offer, which I’m sure she will. Atarah, Merab, Tabitha, and Thomas will look after her while we’re away.”

  “Away?” Melanie started. “What—?”

  “We’re working to stop this,” I said. “It means I’m not going to be able to stay with you right now. You’ll be safe with these people while we go north to find where it’s all coming from, who’s doing this.”

  “North? I don’t—Cass, why are you even here? When you called and said you were here…”

  “I told you. I’m trying to help someone. People I love. And we’re going to help you too.”

  “What is that behind us? That’s not a dog.”

  I’d hoped she’d let that one go.

  “I’ll tell you about it. Right now, we just need a plan for when we get home.”

  “Home?”

  “Their home. My friends’ home.”

  “That’s where you’ve been staying? When you were away for most of your trip? And now back? This is where you’ve been?”

  We were leaving Brighton behind with Kage’s led foot and hardly any cars on the road.

  “Yes, it’s where I’ve been. I was just in Portland, but we came back yesterday.” A feeble bit of truth to cling to. Still, it seemed I needed something. No, I hadn’t lied the whole time we’d been parted. There had been time in the States after all.

  We talked fast, me holding onto Melanie, everyone going over what we needed to do, say, and who we must talk to once we got in. Unless it was a quick visit, such as a delivery person, or an invited guest of one of the wolves, who was also only welcome for a short visit, mundanes were not permitted on the pack’s territory. One living with them? Maybe for weeks?

  Unprecedented indeed. It meant drastic action—uncharted territory. It meant that Melanie was going to know about me, the whole story, what I was. And she was going to have to know about them. She was going to have to fall down the rabbit hole, and look through that window with me to see burning skylines and the field of blood.

  Chapter 33

  The best laid plans. The trials of our lives, walls and bridges, paths and full stops. It’s funny how you can think you know all about these things—know who you are, what you stand for, where you’re going—until the best laid plans break, the trials grow into dragons, and the bottom falls out of the bridge.

  I’d thought that night below the castle was the toughest of my life, that I’d been going through trials, and facing one heartbreaking or difficult feat and emotional awakening after another this summer. But I’d never faced a morning tougher than that one.

  I met Diana and her two other silvers with most of my pack while Jason and Andrew stayed with Melanie at Atarah’s place.

  I told them what had happened, that we still would head north to find the pack, even though we knew some of these killers were here tonight. I told them what we now believed about the killers—magical, shifters, already known—and what I’d seen happen to Peter and his fellows. And about Melanie: what I was asking from them, that they would keep her alive while I tried to keep all of them alive.

  Then I had to explain to Melanie, through the hours of dawn and beyond. While she was in shock about Henry and had just had enough time to come to her senses and decide this was a bad idea and she needed to go home—right away, please—I had to tell her our grandmother and mother had been witches, that I was a witch, that we were potentially being attacked by casters, and that I’d just brought her to a compound of werewolves.

  It’s funny how things change, how one event turns another into something else. At first it’s hard to run a quarter mile. Then hard to run half a mile, then a mile, then it’s really hard to run three miles, then ten. Yet, if everything built and snowballed and grew harder and harder, what came after telling my sister the truth on the heels of her husband being murdered and me dragging her from her home in the middle of the night?

  Finding these murderers would come after. Finding, and stopping them, maybe even if that meant blood on our hands.

  Of all the disbelief, the trying to get away, to leave the house, the fear, tears, shock, even anger at me, what threw me the most was Melanie’s finally asking me in bewilderment, “And they’re okay with me being here? These isolated, secretive, nobody-knows-about … animal-people?”

  I had to take a moment to answer. Because I wasn’t lying anymore, right?

  I’d lied and lied to her. I’d wanted to stop being a witch at all in order to escape a life of lies and deceit and my own isolation.

  But the honest answer was, “No, they’re not okay with you being here.”

  I’d known Zacharias, who hated me being around, would be upset about a mundane being brought here. But Atarah’s failure to offer an immediate response had surprised me. She had agreed with Diana that yes, Melanie could stay, despite it meaning she would have to be told what was really happening. She was, after all, my sister and I would be taking responsibility for explaining my own magical abilities to her and helping her understand. So Melanie was here. Diana had said yes, they would help those who needed help, even mundanes, while her seconds had both wanted to keep her out. Only Atarah’s unwilling consent had swung the tide. If both Atarah and Zacharias had said no, Diana would have been obliged to send Melanie away.

  Instead, Melanie could stay while we hunted. No, while we finished our hunt.

  But did the wolves want her here? Was it even okay with them? No. It was an emergency situation and a fragile one.

  Lies? Truth?

  At last, I answered Melanie’s question with, “Some of them are better with people than others. They don’t mind you being here. For some it is a bit more of a challenge. But it won’t be for long. Just to keep you safe while we find these people, Mel. That’s it.”

  “Find them? You said you’re going north? You don’t even know where the people are you’re looking for? How can they be north when they’re here—” her voice broke again. “Here murdering innocent people who had nothing to do with this?”

  Yes, innocent human beings being butchered like wild game because of me. Only because of me. Mundane humans who would never have any reason to come into contact with this world in their lives if not for me painting targets on their backs.

  I told her about our theory. It was much too long a story to get into the whole investigation. Anyway, it was way too much to process and deal with. I gave the radio spot version, who we were going after, and left it at that. Melanie wasn’t really listening anyway—crying and saying she wanted to see Henry.

  With all the craziness I’d started spewing, she probably didn’t believe me. Wondering what had really happened? Where was Henry? Maybe she didn’t believe anything I’d said. The bitter irony made me feel even more sick. But I didn’t throw up. I didn’t cry. That would have been too much of a luxury on a day like this.

  We stayed on the property all morning. Melanie finally slept. I napped as well, there on the bed in Atarah’s peaceful, astrology-themed guest room. Then I left her to cast my warding spells, get myself ready to go, thank Diana, and speak to the others, all standing by.

  When Melanie was up and showered, dazed but calmed, I had lunch with her and Atarah in Atarah’s sunny eat-in kitchen. Atarah let me ward her and her place—even thanked me for it.

  Melanie couldn’t eat much. She managed a little chicken soup and saltines. The sickbed style food was not lost on me as I found my own stomach able to take both of these in very small doses.

  Atarah was pleasant as always. No hint that she resented Melanie’s presence in her h
ome. Indeed, I don’t believe she did. More likely, she was simply scared. As all wolves feared humans, now Atarah was also facing the fact that things had been going from bad to worse, and looking after a wayward mundane in the midst of their own crisis, deaths, and crumbling cooperative. Atarah, at least, did not blame us for being here—even if she wished, quite understandably, that we were not.

  After lunch, I accompanied the two of them to meet Merab in the kitchens and Tabitha with Andrew at their place. I felt grateful to offer Melanie these few introductions and ties to normality by showing her regular people going about their lives, willing to help her and watch out for her in the confines of staying in the park while we were away.

  I was able to thank Atarah alone while she only offered me a sad smile and said, “Moon bless, Cassia. Our prayers go with you.”

  Then a few final minutes with Melanie: she understood, right? She had to stay here to stay safe, but it would be okay. There were good people here and I’d be back before she knew it anyway.

  She nodded dumbly, still in shock, still scared.

  “Mel?”

  “Cassia, you’re not a detective. You’re not a cop. If all this is true, why are you doing this?”

  Standing in the bedroom with her, I looked back into her blue eyes and thought of a million more stories, of the past weeks, of so much I hadn’t told her in the tiny snatches that I had shared early that morning.

  I said, “You can’t call the mundane cops to solve a magical crime. And I’m doing this because I have to; because I’d die before I’d stop. I love these people. Their lives are everything to me. Yours too, Mel. Just hold on. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  I hugged her, tried to go, but she caught my arm.

  “Wait … they’re not … Cass…” She trailed off, searching my eyes. “It’s not true, right? They’re not … they can’t … change shapes?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just stay here. Stay safe. Catch up on your reading. I’ll keep in touch.”

  She still looked just as pale and bewildered by the time I left as she had last night.

  I met the others at the Jeep, so exhausted from the night and discussions and casting I’d done that morning, my knees shook.

  Kage and Jason had the caravan hooked up. We had debated bringing a couple of bikes. It seemed only sensible to have extra mobility since there wasn’t room for everyone in the Jeep anyway.

  After last night, I knew it wasn’t okay for us to be split up anymore. As long as the bikes would be useless aside from staying right with the Jeep, the appeal left them.

  Besides, there was something else I’d been thinking unconsciously ever since I’d seen what happened to Peter in my scry: something that just might have saved Peter, or at least one or two of his party. At all possible times on this venture, someone would remain in fur. Someone with ears and nose to alert us to approaching wolves, even disguised by swamps or other tricks. Fur and bikes also didn’t mix.

  So Jed, with the windows open, curled up in the caravan while the rest of us rode in the Jeep. Kage drove, Isaac insisted I ride up front despite being the smallest of the company. I accepted only because I was afraid of becoming carsick otherwise. Andrew rode in the far back, watching funny clips of game show contestants’ answers on his phone.

  After a couple brief stops for petrol, to stretch, and to check on Jed—they’d all been prudent enough to eat large lunches at home and I wasn’t hungry—we made it to Snowdonia National Park with a couple hours of daylight left. Despite Kage having been driving, by his standards, with extra care.

  We didn’t know exactly where the Traeth Pack was by address, but nearly. With the report Peter had sent Diana after they’d found the pack in Snowdonia, himself going on a basic idea of their whereabouts, we weren’t worried about being able to find them—especially with a powerful nose. We were only worried about what we would find.

  Facing the rolling hills lifting to true mountain peaks of Snowdonia, imagining the Lake District possibly ahead, it was easy to feel as if we were starting over with this wilderness search. Another week of tracking through the mountains?

  Not this time. The stage had shrunk to an ant track by comparison. We already knew the post codes we wanted—the village of Rywnish here, the Duddon Valley and, according to Isaac, Coniston in the Lake District. But, even more different than that, we weren’t seeking help this time. Now, we sought trouble—hunting death at the end of the trail. Fanged death using a mirror image of ourselves, shifters and casters, to face us if we banged on their door.

  We stopped in a town called Betws-y-Coed for ice cream and to figure out where we were going from here, checking maps for Rywnish.

  They figured—Isaac and Kage and Andrew—while I still could not think. Instead, I sat on the floor in the little camper trailer, my feet on the step through the open doorway, holding a large waffle cone for Jed. He sat inside and mostly out of sight, licking meditatively.

  Jason rubbed his stiff neck and asked if I was all right, could they do anything for me.

  “We can stop this from happening any more,” I said.

  Jason nodded and looked away to Andrew and Isaac with their phones, talking with Kage.

  Zar, with a strawberry waffle cone, sat carefully on the step against my feet. He and Jed were the only two who hadn’t yet finished their ice cream—licking only. I knew why. Jed because he was enjoying having my attention with the cone, happy to take his time in such a situation, and Zar because he wanted to give his away.

  “Cass? You need to eat something…” He sounded worried, eyes anxious as he looked up at me. He always looked like that when trying to get me to do something that he knew I wouldn’t want to do.

  “I had chicken soup.”

  “Eight hours ago.” Zar knew now that it wasn’t usual for humans to eat only one meal a day. He held up the strawberry cone. “Just a little? What about a jacket potato from the pub?”

  I turned the vanilla one for Jed to work on the other side. “No, thank you, Zar.” I gazed across the greenbelt we’d parked by, my voice soft, drifting away on the breeze.

  I didn’t want anything to eat. I didn’t want anything to eat ever again. I just wanted to stop this. I wanted Sarah not to have died and Rebecca not to have died and Henry not to have died. I wanted lives back and families restored. I wanted to not be responsible for deaths, not cause any more suffering, not feel this pain. I wanted to stop being scared, stop hurting others, and stop worrying about the next day, or next minute, and how much worse things could get.

  But I couldn’t have what I wanted. I just sat there, looking across the vivid green in sweeping evening sunlight mixing with long tree shadows, while my eyes blurred until the scene looked like dropped cans of paint.

  “Cass?” Zar’s voice was distant, maybe scared.

  Jed stopped licking the cone, watching me instead.

  The swimming tears finally dripped from my lower lashes as I looked across the field, which suddenly cleared—like turning on the windshield wipers.

  If only life were so easy. If only we could turn that knob and wipe away the grainy parts and start again with a clear screen.

  Zar handed his cone to Jason. Jason, also watching me, went to give it to Kage and returned to us.

  Jed rested his chin on my shoulder, nose in my hair.

  Zar, tears in his eyes, moved up to sit against me in the doorway and gently wrap his arms around me, as if I were made of glass.

  “This is not your fault,” he whispered. “We’re all trying to stop this and we’re all in danger until we do. That doesn’t make you personally responsible if someone dies. We had no reason to think they would ever go after a mundane, no reason to think they had any idea about your sister, or they’d try to hurt you like this. It’s a horrible thing and I wish we could have done something—stopped it—but we couldn’t. That doesn’t make it your fault. We dragged you into this and a lot of bad things have happened that will never be your doing. I’m sorry, Ca
ss.” He rested his head against the side of mine, breathing softly through his mouth, a hand at my back and my opposite upper arm, below Jed’s muzzle.

  I shut my eyes, feeling the burn of tear tracks down my face. Someone lifted the cone from my fingers.

  I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me. Or to listen to lies any more than I wanted dinner. I didn’t want him to believe what he said either—him thinking these things somehow happen without anyone being responsible, so that the other five must be thinking that as well. Which also meant none of them had been paying attention to the past eighteen hours—that they didn’t understand; and they didn’t know me or the situation either. If they understood, Zar wouldn’t be able to rattle off those lies like prayers.

  I pulled away, sitting forward, half meaning to stand, even to run. Zar let go—I thought. His instant reaction where I was concerned had always been to back down and back off. He understood now that I wasn’t fragile as a cobweb, yet his Aunt Milka’s misguided lessons to him about women and his own natural gentleness had combined to make him a cream puff to me, with only rare instances that he pushed me—and never if I was upset.

  So he let go. I was going to move, circle the field, pull myself together and participate in the decisions and force myself to be a useful member of the pack again. Then, instead, Zar didn’t let go.

  Jason was right there in front of us, reaching to press my shoulder, keeping me back with Zar before I could actually stand up. At the same time, Zar was changing his mind, wrapping his arms tighter around me.

  “It’s all right, Cass. Just stay. It’s all right.”

  Exactly like Andrew in bed, holding on instead of letting him hide in the bathroom—only those had been my lines and we had been alone. That was personal. No one else ever had to know about it. This was at the side of the road with all six right there, needing to get things done and sort out our evening. All I needed was to move and clear my head and focus. If they acted like this, if Zar and Jed and Jason were going to bunch around me as if they could even tolerate each other, in order to provide me with that safe place, I wasn’t doing my job around here.