The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2)

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The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Page 8

by Brittany Elise


  I snorted. “Three days might as well be three seconds.”

  “Hey, where’s my fearless force of White Light?”

  “She’s shaking in her bones,” I admitted none too proudly. I squeezed my eyes shut and saw the facts of my muddy future laid out before me: Bryna was on her way with an amulet that could mean the Trinity’s destruction if we couldn’t find a way to destroy it. Penny was still missing and for all I knew, trying to get her hands on the amulet to awaken the Dark Witch. There was a hidden room in my house that my mother left for me that I couldn’t bring myself to open. A pack of werewolves were threatening to make Silver Mountain their stomping grounds and forcing Wren to join them. Niall had been in the ground for one day and his murderer was still out there on the loose. My head began to spin in dizzying swells.

  Wren squeezed my hand. “There’s nothing we can’t conquer together.”

  I nodded and forced myself to smile.

  But the thought of running away was growing in appeal, pulsing in the back of my mind with a sense of urgency. It wasn’t the answer, but I was beginning to wonder if we’d have any other option.

  Chapter Seven

  When Calls the Light

  Bryna was sitting at the kitchen table when we walked in. A lion’s mane of thick red curls framed her face and spiraled around her shoulders. Her face was pale and lovely, dotted by freckles and accentuated by arctic eyes. I blinked against the diversity between the two sisters, wondering how they were blood related.

  “This is Bryna,” Blaire announced, squeezing her sister’s shoulder. “These are Quinn Callaghan, and Wren Whelan.”

  Wren reached across the table and offered his hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said when it was my turn. “We really appreciate you making the trip. You must be exhausted.”

  Bryna’s eyes narrowed. She seemed to be scrutinizing my appearance with unspoken judgement burning behind her eyes. A moment passed before she spoke, choosing her words with care. “As a proud member of the Aurora Coven, making sure the amulet is safe at all times is part of my duty and highest honor. In any case, three witches are better than two in a situation such as this.” She forced a smile. “Especially when one of us is the White Witch incarnate,” she said as though she could taste the bitterness of resentment on her tongue.

  I didn’t know how to respond and was grateful when Blaire broke the newfound awkward silence. “So, how did the meeting go with Thornwood?

  I glanced at Wren, sucking in a breath that ballooned in my chest while I sank into a kitchen chair. Wren joined me, and together we explained what happened in Thornwood. When we finished, a deep crease had formed between Blaire’s dark eyes, but it was Bryna who spoke first.

  “I’m never surprised by the foolish behavior of werewolves,” Bryna said. “Too much arrogance in their blood if you ask me. No offense,” she added as an afterthought, gaze sweeping up to Wren.

  His eyebrow would have disappeared in his hairline if it were possible. “None taken.”

  “Thornwood has at least fifty Weres in their pack, and goddess knows how many other Supernaturals in their back pocket. Our odds of going up against them are obviously not good, but we need to think of something fast. Wren joining is out of the question,” I said.

  Blaire reached across the table and covered my wrist with her palm. “We’re not going to let that happen. Perhaps we can regroup in the morning after we’ve all had a good night’s rest. It’s been a long day and I’m racked.”

  “But what about the amulet,” Bryna said. “Don’t you want to see it?” She was looking at me, eyes wide and expectant.

  I’d been waiting for her to ask–sensed the amulet’s presence calling to me the closer we’d gotten to the cabin. The old things always possessed energy, but this was different somehow. Instead of a gentle hum, it was almost as if the amulet was… thinking. “Tomorrow,” I said, agreeing with Blaire. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Very well,” Bryna said. “We’ve a great deal to discuss about the amulet and the Aurora Coven. It’s probably best if we all have fresh minds.” She glanced at her sister and smiled in agreement. Her sky-blue eyes met Wren’s once again. “Thank you for opening your home to me in a time of need. The Aurora Coven is very grateful for your hospitality.”

  “Make yourself at home,” he replied.

  I was finishing up at the bathroom sink, putting the toothpaste back in the drawer when Wren slipped in without a sound. His left hand skated across my hip as he kissed my brow and then reached for his toothbrush. It was such an ordinary moment–a boy and a girl standing next to one another, going through their nighttime routine as if the nightmarish world outside wasn’t clobbering away at their door. These were all the moments that I wanted–that now seemed sweeter because of how few and far between they’d come. Every moment of normalcy was precious if only because I’d never know when the next would arrive.

  After he finished, he plopped his toothbrush back in the holder (that now contained four toothbrushes) and met my gaze in the mirror. He tried to rest his hands on the counter, but found that any unoccupied space was now covered with makeup and various hair styling tools. A low sound rumbled from the back of his throat as he knocked a tube of mascara off the sink and caught it before it hit the floor.

  “I’m sorry.” I reached out, palm rolling over his warm bare shoulder.

  “Why? You’re not the reason I’m drowning in a sea of estrogen in my own bathroom. What even is this stuff?” He sat the tube on top of a half-opened makeup bag and looked at it as though it might unsheathe a set of fangs and bite him.

  “That is magic for the modern-day witch,” I said with a chuckle. Confusion furrowed his brow rather adorably as I looped my arms around his neck. “It’s called mascara and goes on your eyelashes to make them longer, darker, and fuller. Some of us weren’t gifted with perfect lashes like you, Wolf Boy.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “You think my eyelashes are perfect?”

  I nodded, tracing the tips of them as they fanned against my thumb. His hands circled my waist, pulling me close enough so we were breathing the same air. “Well in that case, I suppose I’ll try to tolerate our new house guests,” he said.

  “It won’t be forever,” I paused, drawing away from his gaze. “Bryna seems about as cozy as a rose bush.”

  Wren cracked a smile that revealed his teeth. “Witches of the Aurora Coven spend their whole life protecting the amulet and hoping for the off chance they might be the revered heir of Aine Alderdice. I’m guessing she’s probably a little sour that she didn’t get chosen and her sister did.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed.

  “Come on.” Wren took me by the hand and led me across the hall to his bedroom. The lights were off, so I let him guide me through the darkness with his adept night vision. Then he was pulling me onto the mattress. I adjusted myself to the curve of his body and began tracing the contours of his sternum with my fingertips. This was the first night he’d stayed in the house since Niall’s passing. The air was clinging to fibers of sweet grass and sage, making it near impossible not to feel Niall’s presence surrounding us.

  I lay there for a moment, trying to lose myself to the relaxing sensation of Wren’s fingers sliding through the strands of my hair. But every time I closed my eyes I saw Thornwood in my mind; the conditions Ryker set for Wren ringing in my ear like battle drums. I shifted on my side, propping up on my elbow as my eyes began adjusting to the lighting. I didn’t have super-vision like Wren, but I could at least make out the lines of his body, the contours of his bare chest and the subtle glow from his eyes.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  “Just thinking about Thornwood,” I
admitted. “What’s the hierarchy like in a pack that size? Who’s the Beta?”

  Wren drew a breath. “Traditional wolf packs have around seven to fifteen members and the average werewolf packs have adopted a similar lifestyle. It’s unusual for Were packs to be as big as Thornwood because of how difficult it is to keep the Subordinates in line. To be successful, a pack the size of Thornwood typically requires an established council made from their previous Alpha Masters. When a new Alpha is chosen, the old one will step down and become an Elder on the council. The Alpha Master still rules over the pack, but the council helps enforce the laws.”

  “What’s a Subordinate?”

  “They represent the rest of the pack population,” Wren explained. “The Beta is the Alpha Master’s second–a chosen member that would take over for the Alpha should something happen to him. The Subordinates have to answer to the Beta and the Alpha, but the Beta only has to answer to the Alpha.”

  “So Thornwood is pretty powerful,” I deduced.

  “The larger the pack, the more territory they can claim. The chance of another pack threatening them is rare and unwise.”

  I nodded, having a better understanding of where we stood in all this. “You didn’t tell me you had friends there…”

  I felt him shrug. “Niall and Thomas were close. Sometimes he’d take me with him when I visited in the summer. I ran with Roy and some of the younger Weres on a full moon. We just didn’t keep in touch after I left.” Another shrug.

  I tried picturing him in wolf form, his brilliant onyx coat shimmering as he ran through the moonlit forest with the others. “Do you miss it?”

  “Running with a pack?” I felt his chest expand as he drew a breath. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Wolves were meant to thrive in packs.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t want that again?” Though every ounce of my being was objecting the idea, I had to ask.

  “No. Not on Ryker’s terms. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, but I’m not the submissive kind.” His timbre was a low vibration, sending welcome shivers across my skin.

  “Oh I’ve noticed,” I said, giggling.

  “I’m sorry, was that a slight?” He moved with the speed of sound, gathering my wrists in his hands and pinning them above my head. I laughed as his teeth grazed the soft skin on my neck. His knees pressed into either side of my hips, trapping me beneath him. In the pitch-dark, I saw the yellow of his eyes glowing with a touch of the Change.

  Weeks ago, he’d been scared to show me what he really was, and now it was like he couldn’t hide it. I didn’t want him to. “I happen to like who you are,” I told him. He’d released my wrists, and I ran my palms up his arms, fingers dipping over the hard impressions of his muscles.

  He moved behind me, drawing my back against his chest. I tried to focus on the rhythm of his breathing–the slight push against my spine as he exhaled. The heat radiating from his body was warm enough that I didn’t need blankets, but it was also waking the embers in my core. I wanted him. But the last time we were together like that, I set every candle in my room on fire. I didn’t know how to control it, and since we weren’t alone I decided to concentrate on keeping my heart beating at a regular rhythm. The walls were thin, and the last thing I wanted was to put on a show for his new house guests.

  “Who were those girls Ryker was with? They looked a little young for him…”

  Wren’s body tensed. “They’re nobody,” he said.

  “You expect me to believe that?” I wasn’t that naïve. “Summer Boy.”

  Wren sighed. “Hailey and I have history and Ryker knows it,” he admitted drily–like it bored him to speak of it. “Hailey’s older brother, Maddox, is in Ryker’s inner circle. For all I know he might be the Beta, and Maddox and Hailey are kind of a package deal. If I had to guess, I’d say Ryker was probably trying to use her in hopes that she would appeal to my senses and help persuade me to join the pack.”

  Now I stiffened. A peculiar, foreign feeling raked my stomach. The jealousy monster was clawing her way out of my gut.

  “Quinn,” he breathed–the beautiful sound of his voice and the way he said my name caught in the space between us.

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t feel you breathing.”

  “What kind of history?”

  He gave a flat sort of snicker and rested his forehead on my shoulder, shaking it. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m yours and only yours.” He ran his palm down my arm until he caught my hand in his and pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade. The feel of his mouth lingered there, an invisible tattoo on my skin.

  “I’m sorry,” I sighed, “I should probably get used to this, huh?”

  “Get used to what?” he asked. I didn’t have to see it to know he was raising his signature eyebrow. I could hear it in his voice now.

  “You’re an incredible… force,” I decided on the word, “and people notice.” I shrugged beneath his arms.

  He laughed and it was a musical sound. “So you think I’m a force, huh?”

  “Don’t you know it?” I said meekly.

  “Maybe,” he answered a beat later, his thumb finding the curve of my bottom lip. “But I like hearing you say it now and then anyway.”

  “You’re a force, Wren Whelan.”

  “So are you.” He kissed me.

  The room was still dark when my eyelids fluttered open. A string of whispers had pulled me from my dreams and forced me from an otherwise peaceful slumber. I pushed up on my elbows, squinting through the dark as I struggled to make out the shape of Wren’s body resting beside me. His breathing was steady and even, nothing that would indicate he was awake and trying to talk to me. Perhaps I’d only been dreaming… I started to slide down against the mattress, closing my eyes as I settled into the pillow, and then the whispers tangled through my ears again.

  I bolted upright.

  An icy chill crawled down my spine, raising goosebumps on the back of my neck. A quick glance at Wren confirmed that he was still sleeping, and if he couldn’t hear the whispers–that meant it was all in my head… My fingers clutched at the bedsheets as I briefly considered that I’d lost my mind. Yet, there was something familiar about the energy in the house and it reminded me of the same energy that had been nagging me to open the hidden door inside of my own house. The indecipherable words hummed with it, beckoning me to answer the call. Tentatively, I slipped out of bed, toes brushing the cool hardwood as I sidled out of the bedroom.

  Wren never budged.

  The house fell silent as I padded down the hall, pausing outside of Niall’s old bedroom. The door was cracked just a fraction; I pushed it open a little wider and the hinges squealed in protest. “Blaire?” I whispered. I waited for her to respond but silence was all that greeted me.

  An indistinguishable string of words tangled through my head, this time sounding as if they were coming from the living room. I swallowed hard; my feet began to move without consent as the whispering grew louder still. I was being pulled, like an invisible tether had attached itself to my core and was towing me along. My fingertips trailed along the ridges and grooves in the plaster wall in a halfhearted attempt to stop myself from going. It was as if the spell had entranced me, stripping me of my own free will until the need of discovery was the only thing that possessed my consciousness.

  A lamp remained lit in the far corner of the living room next to the bookcase. It cast a soft, orange glow that stretched along the floor and chased the shadows into the corners. But it was the unfamiliar wooden box resting in the center of the coffee table that held my attention. Beautifully intricate knot-work framed the box’s surface, the Trinity symbol engraved on the lid.

  “I
know what you are.” I heard in my mind. The voice was feminine and elegant; a velvet caress. “I know you want answers, White One. This is the only way.”

  A bright, radiating light shone through the seam of the lid as I reached for the box. My breath hitched as I peeled back the lid and peered down at the pendant that once belonged to Rionach the Dark. The amulet was breathtaking. It was exactly how I’d remembered it from my vision. The oval moonstone was colorless but its surface sparkled with an iridescent blue sheen. It was framed by ornamental silver filigree, forming the shape of a teardrop.

  “Touch it and know,” the voice suggested.

  I hesitated, hovering over the box as my subconscious rang with the signal of warning bells. The old power swelled through the center of the stone, twisting like clouds in a hurricane. The light was too bright–too powerful for me to resist any longer. I plunged my fingers into the box and wrapped my hand around the stone.

  Light flooded through me, conjuring an invisible wind that swept my body backwards and lifted my chin high in the air. The tremulous current pulled me under and the floor slipped out from beneath me.

  My vision swam over the rolling hills, soaring as though I were being carried on the wings of a majestic bird. We passed over the mountains, skimming over the tops of the pines as we fled for the eastern shores. It was there, tucked beneath the protection of the maritime forests, perched on a rocky cove that I saw a cabin. The structure rippled, showing me tiny sparks of neon green within a meadow.

  “I know what you are,” the silken voice repeated. “Your world is not safe, White One, not while the Dark spirit remains. Seek me. Seek the sun when day takes up the false cloak of night.”

  I gasped for air, sputtering and coughing as I came back to my body. Wren was holding me, gripping both my wrists firmly in his hands. Blaire and Bryna were gaping at me wide eyed and horror-stricken.

 

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