by Everly Frost
Iyana smiles in a way that makes me think this is some kind of game they play—or maybe therapy. “That’s great, Lydia.”
The other woman—Luna—interrupts the conversation by flicking a card off the top of the pack. The square of paper flies up into the air until it stops and floats above our heads. I make out the image of a human heart speared with a dagger as the card spins slowly around and around.
A trail of white light curls across the air between the card and Luna’s upheld hand. She doesn’t speak, turning to Lydia instead.
Lydia focuses on me, her sage eyes gleaming for a moment, revealing a small flash of power. “My sister says that your true enemy is the one whose face you can’t see.”
“O-kay.” Iyana jumps in between me and the twins with unexpected speed. “Enough future gazing for now, my dears. Tessa and I need to get cleaned up and have some lunch.”
The twins shrug and step around us as they head for the wrestling area we just vacated. I sense Luna’s gaze burning my back as she turns in my direction while I stride away down the corridor.
Iyana urges me toward the stairs. “So the official spiel about the twins is this: Luna and Lydia. Card mages. Twins, obviously. Twenty-one years old. But you also need to know that they struggle with space and time. They won’t understand that they’re in your way, and they sometimes wander down the hallway eating breakfast in the middle of the night. Luna can access her sister’s power as well as her own, so she’s twice as powerful as an ordinary card mage, but she can’t communicate on her own. Lydia needs to speak for both of them.”
I study the walls as we walk. The surface ripples through a rainbow of colors before settling on pale blue, a calming color. It seems to know what I need right now.
We climb the stairs to the library at the beginning of the sleeping quarters.
“Meet me back here after a shower,” Iyana says. “We’ll head down to the garden for lunch.”
“I thought we were supposed to eat in our rooms,” I say.
Iyana’s eyebrows rise. “You can eat wherever you want, but the garden is where we mostly gather for meals.”
“Okay, sure. See you soon.”
Returning to my room, I find Ella fast asleep, curled up on the end of her bed, her feet toward her pillow. Her blonde hair falls over the edge. Her locks are so long that the white-gold strands touch the floor.
I tiptoe past her to the bathroom, where I wash off my sweat and check my bruises before donning a fresh pair of jeans and a flannel shirt and then braiding my hair.
I find Iyana sitting at one of the plush couches in the entrance room, flipping through a book. She’s dressed in black pants and a lilac T-shirt. Several books are scattered on the coffee table in front of her.
My stomach growls loudly when I arrive and she jumps up right away.
“I’m starving!” she says. “Let’s go.”
Walking beside a hungry vampire might not be my best move. I risk a laugh. “Should I be worried?”
“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’ like she sometimes does. “You’re safe with me.”
This time, the downward stairs let out into a shaded garden. Directly on the left as we enter, a waterfall flows down one entire wall. Trees and flower bushes circle the space, which gives off a tranquil vibe. Wooden tables and chairs are scattered around a courtyard in the middle of the garden. Women sit around the tables, some in groups, some alone. I’m not surprised to see them since Helen said that many women shelter here. Given her rule about respecting privacy, I’m also not surprised when they don’t jump to their feet to introduce themselves. A few raise their heads to give me small smiles, but nobody stares at me. The house prevents me from sensing what they are and it’s not obvious from their appearances. We could all be human women out for lunch at a garden restaurant.
Seconds before Iyana steps onto the courtyard, the lighting changes. The blue sky disappears to be replaced with a night sky. The trees light up along their branches with silver fairy lights, glittering and pretty, giving the entire space a silver glow.
Iyana pauses on the bottom step, flushing slightly. “I hope you don’t mind eternal night when you’re around me. I don’t do well in sunlight.”
None of the women complain, let alone flinch. One of the women—a petite brunette—gives a happy sigh as she gazes up at the glittering tree branch above her. I think I spy a pointed ear beneath her thick hair, but I’m not sure.
Entering the courtyard, I follow Iyana to an empty table at the back. “We could be out in the open right now, not inside a building.”
Iyana smiles as she sits down. “We are outside. This house is constantly transforming itself. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not sure I want to,” I say. “I don’t want to take it for granted.”
A new presence appears beside me and I look up into the kindly face of an older woman with deep brown hair and pale blue eyes, dressed in a black dress.
“What would you like to eat, dear?” she asks.
“You must be Aida?” I ask.
She folds her hands in front of herself with a quiet nod.
“Uh, I would kill for a steak,” I say.
“Coming right up.” She smiles as she turns to Iyana. “The usual for you, Iyana?”
“Yes, please, Aida,” Iyana responds.
Aida gives Iyana a nod and then disappears. I stare at the empty space she leaves behind.
I’m assuming Iyana means blood, and I’m not sure to what extent my human soul will be comfortable watching her drink it, but I push away my reservations.
It won’t be real blood. Most likely. Probably.
Iyana watches me squirm with a growing smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t drink blood.”
“Oh. Okay. You mean you abstain?”
“No. I mean I don’t need to drink blood.” She stares at the bright branches above us. “I have a slightly unusual craving that doesn’t involve human blood, but it makes other vampires uncomfortable around me.”
I’m amazed when Aida reappears seconds later with a plate laden with a thick steak and roasted vegetables, including hot chips for me.
She places a small shot glass of silver liquid in front of Iyana.
Moaning with delight when I take my first mouthful of food, I pause long enough to watch Iyana drink her silver liquid all in one go before licking her lips. The liquid slides right out of the glass and not a drop remains clinging to the sides.
“What was that?” I ask, with a quizzical glance at the pristinely empty glass.
“My unusual craving,” she says, tipping the glass. “Mercury.”
My eyes widen. “But that’s toxic.”
“To you, yes.” She gives me a contented smile. “If I can’t get a hold of mercury, I can get away with zinc or cadmium. Lots of human vitamins contain zinc. But I need a sip of mercury at least once a month.”
“Why would that make other vampires uncomfortable?”
She raises her eyebrows. “It’s poisonous to them too. It doesn’t kill them, but it makes them very sick. Some hunters used to include it in potions when they went vampire hunting.”
She sighs happily as she leans back in her chair and gazes up at the stars, leaving me to inhale my food at speed. Finally, only a small sliver of steak remains on my plate and I’m not sure if I can fit in another mouthful. “How does Helen do all of this?”
“You mean how is any witch powerful enough to create and sustain a place like Hidden House?” Iyana asks.
I murmur a ‘yes’ around the last mouthful, which I decide is worth consuming even if I have a stomachache later.
Iyana gives me a satisfied smile. She looks like she’s ready to fall asleep and I remember that if she’s been up since midnight, it’s probably her bedtime now. “Helen’s responsible for setting all of the spells that make the house function the way it does, but she has a secret source of power that keeps the spells operating so she isn’t drained.”
“Wha
t source?”
Iyana rolls her eyes at me, a lazy motion before she gives a soft laugh. “What part of secret source isn’t clear?”
I snort. “You seem to know every other secret.”
She leans forward, suddenly more alert. “I’m not actually sure,” she says. “I can only guess from what I’ve pieced together over the last seven months.”
“Which is…?”
She exhales. A crease forms in her forehead. “I believe there’s a woman who sought shelter here long before anyone else. She’s so powerful that she remains in a deep sleep—hidden somewhere inside the house.” Iyana lowers her voice. “Which could be why Helen nearly freaked out the other day when she thought you might be able to break through the house’s old magic and sense the women living here and what their powers might be.”
I frown. “So Helen keeps a woman here and siphons off her power while she sleeps? But that’s not right—”
Iyana interrupts me. “No, I don’t think it’s like that. I think this woman willingly offered up her power in exchange for a safe place to retreat from the world.”
Iyana falls silent while I chew my lip. I’ve known pain, but it’s hard to imagine agony so great that I would welcome the darkness of sleep.
Wait…
“The woman in the dark,” I whisper. “Last night, Helen talked about someone she calls the woman in the dark. She was worried about what would happen if the woman woke up and Tristan wasn’t here.”
Iyana nods. “I’m not sure I’d want to be here when a woman that powerful wakes up.” She suddenly narrows her eyes at me. “Why wouldn’t Tristan be here?”
Footfalls on the stairs interrupt us. Looking up, I discover that all of the other women have left already, their tables cleared and clean.
Helen appears on the stairs and makes her way to my side. Her hair is loose and she sweeps it to the side, the glossy, dark waves falling across one shoulder.
Iyana immediately yawns and stretches. “Looks like it’s bedtime for me, then.”
Helen gives her a smile before she says, “Tessa, it’s time for your first lesson.”
Chapter Eleven
The space transforms around me as soon as Iyana disappears up the stairs.
I gasp as the tables and chairs whoosh backward and disappear into the trees, which suddenly shoot new branches at an astounding rate, sprouting new leaves until the broad, lush branches form a thick canopy directly overhead.
The ground brims with flowers and vines of all kinds. It’s still the middle of the day, but the moonlight above us softens, somehow whiter, appearing more like starlight.
Helen gestures to the two oversized plush cushions that appear in the middle of the grassy, moonlit clearing. “Take a seat, Tessa.”
I hesitate while she sits and crosses her legs, her hair cascading down her back. A trailing silver vine meanders across her right foot, sprouting silver flowers that bloom before my eyes. They blossom and turn toward Helen’s body, snuggling against the cushion on which she sits.
She lifts her hand off her knee to gesture at the empty cushion opposite her.
I pick a path through the flowers spreading across the courtyard, miraculously succeeding in leaving them all intact, before I lower myself carefully onto the cushion and fold my legs under me.
A light breeze touches my face, carrying a scent that is both wild and free, as if it has swept off ice-capped mountains, through flower fields, and among blossoms before it reached me.
A sense of space fills me despite the closeness of the trees and the blossoms flowering around me. Magic thrums through every leaf and flower—even the ground I’m sitting on.
This is not a place to eat meals anymore. It’s filled with magic that both exhilarates and frightens me with its intensity.
My wolf’s energy rises inside me, but it’s a calm, tentative surge. I’ve kept her energy quiet ever since I arrived here, needing to keep her hidden and safe, not wanting to expose her—not wanting to expose myself.
Vines sprout around my legs, slipping across the space between my feet and the grassy ground. A silver flower blossoms right beside my hand, its center dusted with gleaming specks of light.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
The moment that the flower brushes against my fingers, my wolf’s energy rises, her form flickering into sight at my side.
She’s joined to me like always, this time at my shoulder, her body curving around me. She nudges her head against my chest and brushes the bottom of my chin, her energy buzzing across my jaw and chest.
Opposite me, a smile touches Helen’s lips when my wolf appears.
“The most important thing you need to learn is that your scent isn’t a smell,” she says, startling me with this revelation. “Your scent is your power.”
My wolf’s gaze turns to Helen, as transfixed as I am.
“My power?” I ask.
“That’s why the fiercest alphas can detect it. They recognize your strength. As long as you’re splashing it around, they are drawn to it and—like all dominant creatures—they need to control it. To leave you uncontrolled is to diminish their own power. Do you understand?”
I remember Cody’s declaration after he inhaled my scent. He said he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to fuck me or kill me—dominate or destroy.
“I’m a threat,” I say.
She nods. “A significant one.”
“So to control my scent, I have to control my power,” I say, drawing conclusions from what Helen said.
She smiles. “I believe you’ve spent your whole life pushing your wolf away, denying your power, because that’s how you had to survive. It’s time to really get to know your wolf, Tessa. You have to understand your power before you can control it.”
Fear is cold inside me. I’ve never hated my wolf’s energy, but her unusual nature has caused me constant pain, both physical and emotional.
“I don’t know how,” I whisper. Reaching out to run my hand through my wolf’s insubstantial form beside me, my fingers float right through her shape. “She’s energy inside me. Even like this, I can’t touch her unless I merge with her. And then I’m still me, just in another form. She has no thoughts except for mine, no heart except for mine.”
Helen leans forward with a soft smile. “Then you need to get to know yourself, Tessa. You need to understand your own fears, strengths—your capacity for love, hate, indifference, happiness, grief, and all the emotions in between.”
I stare at Helen, helpless. “How?”
She settles back onto her cushion. “Let’s talk.”
While my wolf lowers her head to the flowers, nudging them and tapping her paws on the new ones that blossom in front of her, Helen asks me questions.
She starts with my first memories of the cabin where I grew up and the things I remember about my father in my early years. She touches on my first meeting with my mother when I was school age and required to walk down the mountain to the main village for the first time.
I fall silent at that point.
My wolf’s hackles rise at memories I want to forget.
My mother was waiting at the school gate. That was the first time I saw her and her new mate—Peter Nash. My mother stood tall, her red hair a different shade to mine, more orange, like a sunset. Her eyes, startlingly blue, were cold in the early morning light.
She strode up to me, stared down at my six-year-old self, and smacked me across the face so hard that I fell onto the pebbled path. I remember the clatter of my pencils as they scattered across the stones, the crack of her boots as she walked past me, driving her heels into the pencils and snapping them in half before she strode away without a backward glance.
“She hated me,” I say. “I ruined her life.”
The first two years of school were bad. Then my half-brother Dawson was old enough to attend and things got even worse.
I wince and veer away from the memories, but Helen forces me to refocus on them. “Tessa, the broke
n bones you sustained tell a story you might not want to remember, but—”
“You’re going to tell me that my pain made me stronger.” I give her a cold glare. All that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger bullshit.
“No, actually, I was going to say that it’s not the physical pain that does the most damage. It’s the psychological harm of being made powerless—despite the strength flowing through your body.”
“Then what do I do about it?” I snap, my defenses in full swing.
“Let her out, Tessa.”
“What?”
“Your wolf. Stop constraining her. I sense the power inside you trying to free itself. Let your wolf out the way you must have wanted to let her out when you first experienced your mother’s hatred. When Dawson broke your arm the first time. Until you know your full strength, you won’t understand how to mask your scent.”
“I can’t…” I edge away from Helen, scooting back across the cushion. “I can’t let myself feel that angry.”
“Nothing bad will happen,” Helen says. “I promise.”
I give a sarcastic laugh. “You say that now.”
“Look around you, Tessa. This garden is full of magic and beauty—”
“I’ll destroy it.”
“You won’t. The magic here is stronger than that. The most peaceful things are often more resilient than you can imagine.”
Demonstrating just how destructive I can be, I slam my fist down onto the nearest silver flower, my wolf’s energy crackling through my hand.
The blossom tears apart beneath my blow. “See?”
Helen only smiles. “Take another look, Tessa.”
I lift my hand. Silver dust from the broken flowers coats the back of my fingertips, but I’m shocked when the flower reforms, quietly knitting itself back together. A second and third flower form on the vine on either side of it.
It’s such a beautiful reaction to my violence that it takes my breath away.
Before I can respond, a shadow passes across me, casting me into cold darkness.