by Kat Zaccard
Other than dark hair, Nadia and Sequoya looked nothing alike as humans. Nadia had shiny black hair and a porcelain complexion, whereas Sequoya was an Irish and Native American brunette with a smattering of freckles. As wolves, they both had snowy-white fur that would be described as Siberian by human classification standards. Contrarily, Sequoya and I looked nothing alike as wolves, even though both of our fathers were native to the region. Of course, born-and-raised werewolves could care less about human classifications. Werewolves were werewolves; despite superficial differences, we were all one pack.
I yipped happily at Sequoya and chased her out of the arena. We tore through the fields to catch up with the rest of the gang. It was easy enough to do since our training grounds perimeter had shrunk considerably compared to last year. Still, we had enough space to run around and play. I conducted few planned drills but gave up after a bit deciding to just let the group blow off steam. Sequoya was elated to be hanging with juniors, and I was pleased that no one minded her presence.
Other than a few sneak attacks by Hayley and Shea, the night was pretty uneventful. We were on our way back to the arena after hearing the horn blast to alert the end of training when Fanya surprised me from behind. She tackled me and we rolled through the mud, slush, and snow. We ended up in a heap with Fanya pinning me to the ground. She pretended to bite my neck. She jumped off of me and shifted into her human skin doing a happy dance.
“Ha! I did it! I got you,” she crowed.
I shifted back and laughed at her success. She’d been so appalled at the beginning of the year when we all practiced our sneak attacks. Now she was tackling her future queen. I loved it!
“Well done!” congratulated Hayley with a clap on Fanya’s back. We were all smiles back in the locker room.
I glanced over at Lola and Damka in the far corner. Lola looked away and hurriedly left the room. Damka watched her go then looked back at me thoughtfully. I gave her a small smile and a wav, wishing she’d forgive me. I looked back at my other friends. They were all chatting excitedly about our full moon run. I was surprised when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I turned around hoping to see Damka, but was surprised to see Ms. Grizzle instead.
“Your Royal Highness,” she said kindly without her usual gruffness, “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
◆◆◆
My plane landed at the Chicago O’Hare airport the next day. In a daze, I wheeled my carry-on suitcase through the gate. I hadn’t slept since last night when Ms. Grizzle told me my mom had been in an accident. But it wasn’t an accident. She’d been attacked. I had called my father after Ms. Grizzle had escorted me to my dorm room to pack. Dad said Mom was bitten by a dog. She’d suffered a few wounds and required a series of rabies shots just in case. Dad was shaken but assured me Mom was in stable condition and would make a full recovery. He told me I didn’t have to come home, but I told him he was being ridiculous.
I wanted to call Gwendolyn, but it was only six in the morning. Instead, I boarded a bus home and tried to catch a few hours of sleep on the way. I made it to the bus terminal and took a cab to the hospital. When I got to my mom’s room, I started to cry. She was lying in bed asleep, so I muffled my tears as I sat in the corner waiting for her to wake up. Dad walked in a few minutes later and wrapped me in a hug. He asked about school, but I waved him off, inquiring about Mom.
“I’m fine,” a voice came from the bed. I whirled around to see her sitting up with a smile, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. “It’s so good to see you, Alcee! But you didn’t have to leave school for this!”
“Mom! You’ve been attacked!” Why were they so calm?
“It was really strange.” My mom’s eyes clouded. “Honestly, I barely remember anything. I was walking out of the parking ramp with my violin case, and a stranger stopped me. He complimented my performance. He was dressed in a suit and seemed to be a genuine fan. I remember looking into his eyes; they were very black. The next thing I recall, I’m waking up in the hospital.
“The staff says I suffered a dog bite and a young man brought me in. The best we can surmise is that the dog must have run up while we were talking and attacked. That kind gentleman must have fought off the dog and taken me to the hospital. He didn’t stick around, though, to talk to the police.” My mom shrugged. How could she be so blasé about this?
“That’s really weird, Mom. You don’t have any idea who this guy was?”
“None at all. He was really handsome, though.” She smiled as if remembering a happy dream.
“Yeah, that’s about all she remembers about him,” my dad grumbled, though with a teasing glint to his eyes. He looked lovingly at his wife. “As long as you’re okay, Donna, that’s all I care about.”
“Aww, me too,” she replied, reaching for his hand. He went to her bedside and kissed her deeply.
“Gross, you guys. Come on.” I mean, sure she narrowly escaped dismemberment, but did they have to get all mushy about it? My thoughts grew stormy as I considered the implications of my mom’s story. The whole plane ride here I’d been in a panic about the attack, certain it had been an upyr sent by Christina. It had to be, right? Now I was less sure. Maybe it was a random dog attack. That happened, didn’t it?
Mom was released that afternoon, and we stopped to pick up Chinese from our favorite local restaurant, the Cozy Inn. Their egg drop soup could not be beat, and we loaded up on all our favorites, including Mongolian beef, sweet and sour chicken, and shrimp fried rice. Dad ordered extra eggrolls, moon cakes for them, and a gluten-free, dairy-free chocolate torte for me. Dad never let me order dessert, so I knew he was more grateful than he let on that we were all together. We took everything home and laid out our smorgasbord on the kitchen table. Digging in, we ate to our hearts’ content. We were just finishing dessert when Mom let out a yawn and Dad suggested we all go to bed.
“Is there another eggroll?” I asked, licking the last bit of chocolate ganache off my fork.
“Another one?” teased Dad. “I can’t believe you’re still hungry.”
“Nathanial!” scolded Mom. “Alice is a growing woman and an athlete to boot; of course she needs to eat a lot!”
“I’m not really an athlete,” I tried to deflect a potential oncoming argument.
“Of course you are, honey! You’re team captain! I can’t remember if you ever told me the name?”
I choked back a laugh as I thought about the Fur Patrol. I racked my brain to remember exactly what I had told my parents about them. I had to keep my werewolf side a secret and that unfortunately meant stretching the truth a little when it came to discussing my day-to-day life at boarding school.
“Oh right, I guess since it’s mostly running, I forget I’m an athlete. You know, because it’s not like a real sport.” I was fishing for some clue about what they knew. I mean, I must have mentioned running.
“Track and field is definitely a sport, young lady! I expect you to have more respect for it and for yourself.” My dad was using his know-it-all-voice, which often followed his I’ve-been-caught-in-the-wrong face. “Of course you should eat as much as you want.” He slid the last eggroll my way.
They bade me goodnight and left the room while I nibbled on the last eggroll. I looked around at the remnants of our meal, mostly empty cartons, and knew my dad had reason to be surprised. Werewolves burned a lot of calories and needed to replenish often. We’re always eating. I’d missed lunch at the hospital and had to make up for lost caloric intake. I’d eaten enough to feed a family of four.
I was just putting the rest of the leftovers in the fridge when I heard a light knock at the back door. I gave a little jump of surprise. I wondered if it was my security detail. They had to stay out of sight since my parents would be suspicious if they saw them. If they were making contact, then we might be in danger. I peeked out the window and was relieved to see Gwendolyn on the other side of the door. I unlocked the door and invited her inside. She entered with a swirl of skirt
s sweeping in a scented cloud that smelled like the incense from her shop.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. We sat in the kitchen, and I put on a kettle for tea.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I replied.
“Well, that’s easy,” she scoffed. “I’m checking on your mother.”
“Yeah, weren’t you supposed to be protecting them?” I hadn’t meant to accuse her, but my voice got ahead of my brain.
“We did protect them, Your Majesty,” she responded earnestly. “I was watching your mother when the upyr attacked, and intervened in the nick of time.”
I took in a sharp breath. I regretted my earlier tone. It wasn’t Gwendolyn’s fault my mother had been targeted; that fault was mine. “What happened?”
“We were in a parking garage, and I was trying to stay out of sight. I saw the man approach and felt the hairs on my arm rise. I’d never seen an upyr before, but somehow, I knew. He looked like a regular mortal, but his aura was black with death.
“I raced up to them. He was talking to her and looking deeply into her eyes. I think he was trying to hypnotize her or something. I shouted, but he didn’t break his gaze from hers. I reached for a vial but hesitated to toss it while he was so close to your mother. I still wasn’t sure what they’d do.”
She pulled three vials out of her bag. One was blue, one black, and one clear. “I reached your mother and wedged myself between her and the upyr, breaking them apart. He must have scratched your mom in the process. It was only then that the upyr noticed me at all. He turned on me, grabbed my arm, and bared his long teeth with a hiss, his eyes drawing into slits. I threw the clear vial, but nothing happened. His face pulled together like he might sneeze, but that was all. I thought I was dead. I wrenched my arm out of my coat sleeve, and I smashed the black vial at his feet. There was a loud bang and a blinding light; the explosion threw me back. I sat up in time to watch his form turn to ash and disintegrate. I almost wet myself thinking of our narrow escape.”
I gasped in response.
“Your mother was knocked unconscious in the commotion, and frankly, I’m not sure what she saw. Luckily, Marcus was there to carry her into the hospital. I would’ve been recognized as a social worker, and still showed signs of the battle. I’m afraid I must find out what your mother saw and potentially alter her memories so magic won’t be exposed.”
“You’re not touching my mom,” I said resolutely. I’d meant to say “thank you” first, but she was talking about brainwashing my mom. I ignored that little voice inside my head that questioned why I was so defensive on that particular subject. I sighed. “I’m sorry, Gwendolyn. I meant to say thank you for all you did to save my mom. And you don’t have to worry. She barely remembers a thing except looking into the upyr eyes. Who was apparently quite handsome.” I relayed my mom’s version of events.
Gwendolyn ignored my sarcasm and pondered the new information. “The upyr must have another type of magic, other than just outsmarting death, that is. He must have used some sort of mind control or hypnosis on her. She ought to have remembered seeing me intervene otherwise.”
“Great, another super power to worry about,” I groused.
“All is not lost, Your Majesty. We did learn a valuable piece of information. We now know what the black potion does.” She tapped on of the three vials on my counter. “The translations from Fanya helped tremendously. Crushing versus slicing an ingredient can have radically different results.”
I realized this was very valuable information indeed and asked how much more of the potion she could make.
“Unfortunately, some of the ingredients are rather rare”—of course they were—“but fear not, I have already made inquiries and placed orders for what I could find. I have also alerted other covens of my findings. We must all be prepared to fight the upyr threat. They’re growing bolder to attack a human in the open like that.”
“I fear I’m the reason he attacked Mom.” I filled Gwendolyn in on my latest findings about my birth parents’ murders and our hope for more information from Cordelia Cope’s missing journals. “Queen Christina is likely targeting my parents since they’re less protected than I am at school.”
Gwendolyn sat straighter in her chair. “We are certainly adequate protection for your mom and all the humans here. I was caught off guard, but I have other weapons than the mystery potions. I just didn’t want to lose an opportunity to test them. Had I failed, Marcus would have protected your mom.”
“I’m sorry, Gwendolyn. I know you’ll protect them, but I feel so helpless.”
“You cannot stay to protect them yourself. You have your own path, young Princess.” Gwendolyn’s eyes were kind. “I promised to keep watch. And I’ll be more vigilant than ever, now. We have set wards around your parents’ house to alert us of the slightest disturbance. I believe this attack on a human innocent will propel the other covens into action as well.”
“Will the witches join us and fight the upyr?”
“Of course the witches will fight the upyr. Whether we consider a treaty with the werewolves is another story. I do think you have a chance to convince them. I dare say I can convince them to hear your request at the next Samhain.”
“Samhain isn’t until October!” But I supposed that was more advantageous anyway. It was after my birthday and I’d likely be crowned by then. I gulped as I realized my coronation was fast approaching.
“You will have your throne by then, Your Majesty,” Gwendolyn echoed my thoughts.
Gwendolyn and I discussed the increasing upyr threat a bit more. We strategized as best we could, but so much of it was guesswork. I lamented the need for allies, but the lack of options.
“I’m doing my best with the witches,” Gwendolyn stated primly.
“I know you are, and I appreciate it greatly. I just don’t know whom else to ask. I’ve considered making overtures to the Kitsune,” I admitted.
“The Kitsune!” Gwendolyn guffawed. “Those wily foxes aren’t known to help anyone but their own. You’d do better making inquiries with the werecats.”
“The werecats?”
“Don’t they teach you anything at that school other than to whine and howl?” Gwendolyn had little respect for the werewolf educational system.
“Um… We haven’t gotten that far in history class yet.”
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Your Young Highness, the werecats. The Werejaguars of Central and South America. And the Werelions of India and Africa.” Gwendolyn’s look went from incredulity to pity when she realized I was somewhat oblivious about these other shifters’ cultures.
“I know there are other shifters, but I didn’t realize they’re so prolific or well-organized.” Other shifters were rarely covered in class, so I’d always gotten the impression there were just a few small packs here and there.
“Typical werewolf arrogance,” scoffed Gwendolyn. “You think you’re the only shifters in the world that matter.”
“I don’t think that!” But I made a mental note to do more research as I had with the Kitsune.
Gwendolyn took pity on me. “I know that, dear, you were taught better than that. Well, I can’t say that I know anyone to liaise with in either group, but I expect you have trained diplomats for that sort of thing.” I nodded, thinking of Nadia, and wondered just how brave she might be. Would she trek into unknown territories to seek peace treaties with our shifter cousins?
I spent the rest of the week with my parents. My dad had to go back to work on Monday, but my mom took the week off to recover. I enjoyed taking care of her, though she was antsy to get back to practice and spent several hours with her violin each day. I often took the opportunity to visit Gwendolyn’s shop to discuss our on-going planning and strategy.
I’d been sending her copies of Fanya’s translations from the volume Gwendolyn had given Shea and me last summer. Gwendolyn was making use of them and revealed her findings to me. Some of the spells and potions were
well-known among the covens and it was simply the language barrier that kept her from recognizing them herself. Others were quite unusual and some of the herbs didn’t translate well or at all. Luckily, many recipes had botanical drawings and descriptions of the herbs, including what time of the year or moon to pick them and how each should be prepared. Gwendolyn was confident that between the translated text and her vast magical knowledge, she would find more useful information to help us fight the upyr.
By the time I left Greenville to head back to Mt. Henley, I was feeling more confident about our chances to defeat Christina and the upyr. I was ready to rally allies and make my claim for the throne. I had to stand up and defeat the upyr to protect my family and my pack once and for all.
Chapter 27
Returning to Mt. Henley was not as triumphant or exciting as I’d envisioned. Exams would soon be upon us, and everyone was scrambling to catch up on long-term projects as well as study. Art was the only class that wasn’t stressful at the moment. My pottery skills were improving, even if Adam still put me to shame.
We were leaving art class when I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. I heard someone call my name and turned to see Jillian approaching. She was alone, her long blonde hair swaying as she jogged to catch up with me. Adam raised an eyebrow. I waved his worry away and said I’d see him at lunch.
“Hey, Jillian,” I called as she reached me. The halls were thinning out, and we walked toward the windows for more privacy.
“Alice, hi.” Now that she’d caught up with me, she didn’t seem to quite know what to say.