Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My!

by Nicky Charles

  “I’ve not done an intense search, but the world is a large place. A random death here or there could be attributed to anything. She’s clever enough to hide her activities.”

  She nodded. Who knew where Camille might be practising her spells? If it actually was her. Once again, she recalled that years ago they’d been friends until a difference of opinion had escalated out of control and had led them on divergent paths. But if it wasn’t Camille, then who? Mentally scanning the faces that sat around the council room, none seemed likely candidates. An exceptionally talented young witch? They did exist but the Universal Coven had all witchlings complete aptitude tests. Such an individual surely would have been spotted in the results.

  Cyrus wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. “Might I suggest you start to familiarize yourself with the dark pages of your grimoire and how to counteract the spells within? It never hurts to be prepared. I’ll start to do the same myself.”

  “Make sure you wear charmed gloves. You don’t want the stain to show.” Years ago, all families were ordered to seal the black pages of their grimoires. Opening the seal and touching the pages would leave a stain on the hands that lasted for several days. It was visible only to other witches, a warning to the rest of the community. Members of the Coven, of course, had access to specially charmed gloves that kept them safe on the rare occasions they needed to research the dark side.

  “Gloves? Oh yes. Good thing you reminded me. This old brain of mine isn’t what it used to be.” He gave a little laugh and stood up. “I need to be on my way. I have a birthday party to perform at.”

  She shook her head as she watched him leave. From black magic to doing party tricks at a children’s event.

  Chapter 15

  Gwyn lay in bed, spent from a fine bout of sex. Beside her, Matt was still breathing heavily, the sheen of sweat on his chest gleaming in the moonlight.

  “You okay?”

  His concern made her smile. He was always a considerate lover.

  “Yes.” She rolled her head to the side so she could see him. “More than okay. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  He grinned and pulled her closer, snaking an arm around her shoulders and resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m okay, too. In case you were wondering.”

  She laughed softly, and laced their fingers together. She watched as his thumb stroked the back of her hand. They were comfortable together, familiar. Too familiar? The idea made her frown.

  All night she’d been thinking about what Cyrus had said. His idea that Camille was out to get her and would possibly hurt Matt seemed far-fetched and yet, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Was it fair that she kept Matt around knowing possible danger existed? It wasn’t like she couldn’t get by without sex or find another fuck-buddy. And she’d overheard Rudy hinting to Matt that a werebear of his age needed to settle down. While she was sure Matt would do that when it suited him, was she holding him back? She’d done that to Sven, keeping him from possibly finding another to love. Matt didn’t love her in a romantic sense, she was sure of it, but the longer they were together the greater the possibility that could change.

  All good things came to end. They’d been together longer than she had with anyone else since Sven. Maybe now was the time to break things off before Matt became too attached, before anything exploded within the witching realm.

  “Matt, we’re friends.”

  “We are.”

  “But…” For some reason, a sinking feeling filled her.

  “But what?” He lifted his head to look at her.

  “I was thinking that maybe we need to leave off the ‘benefits’ part.”

  “Oh.” He looked at her for a minute and then lowered his head down so he was staring at the ceiling again.

  “It’s nothing you did.”

  “This is where you say ‘it’s me, not you’, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  He unlaced their fingers and slid his arm out from under her. “Have you found someone else? The Lycan perhaps?”

  “No!”

  He gave a soft laugh. “That was adamant.”

  “I’m not looking to replace you. I don’t want a relationship with anyone. I need some…space.”

  “Okay.” He waited a beat and then gave her a sidelong look. “You know, if you ever want to talk about who hurt you, I’ll listen.”

  “What?”

  “Someone hurt you. That’s why you keep pushing me and everyone else around you away. You act like you’re heartless and cold—”

  “I am heartless and cold.” She sat up and he followed suit.

  “Your hands are, yes.” He caught one and enfolded it in his own. “But that’s your circulation. You aren’t cold on the inside.”

  She tried to pull her hand free but he didn’t let go. Like all werebears, he was incredibly strong. “I’m sure I’m the requisite ninety-eight point six degrees internally.”

  “Gwyneth, you know what I mean.”

  “Matt, if I wanted to be psychoanalyzed I’d see a professional. I’m fine.” Even after all this time, he still didn’t understand her choice to never love again, to embrace the consequences of the spell she’d used. If he knew how many centuries she’d lived this way, maybe then he’d realize she knew what she was talking about. But he didn’t know and she wasn’t about to tell him. It was a secret that those like her worked hard to keep under wraps.

  “I don’t agree. If you were fine you wouldn’t be happy settling for this.” He pointed between the two of them.

  “I’m not settling. I’m perfectly content.”

  “Right.” He compressed his lips.

  She could tell he wanted to say more and prayed he didn’t. Ending things with an argument wasn’t what she wanted.

  Eventually, he sighed. “I’ll let it go. Just know that I’m there for you if you ever want to talk about it. I worry about you being alone.”

  “It won’t be the first time.” And it won’t be the last, she added silently. Even if she did have a long-term relationship with someone, they’d still die before her. She had no idea how long she’d live. Sometimes the years that stretched ahead seemed daunting. People would come and go but they would never touch her deeply. How many had she already known and forgotten over the years? At times, it seemed she watched life from a distance, never experiencing the highs and lows, indifferent to what happened around her, just existing. It was what she’d wanted when Tomas betrayed her, but there were times now that she questioned that choice.

  She stared at her hand still joined with Matt’s. Her fate was sealed but his wasn’t. “You’re a good man, Matt. You’re the one who should be looking for someone to settle down with.”

  He snorted. “You sound like Rudy. And, like you, I’m happy with my life as it is.”

  Except she’d just changed his life. For his own good, but he didn’t know that.

  “Can I ask you why now? Didn’t you like the donuts? Or are you really throwing me over for that old guy?”

  He was trying to lighten the mood so she chuckled as he expected her to. “It’s a witch thing.” That was the truth, at least. He’d sense no deception. Shifters were annoyingly good at that.

  “I see.”

  “I mean it. There are things I need to concentrate on and I can’t be distracted.”

  “I’m a distraction?” He gave her a crooked smile.

  She bumped her shoulder against him. “Always.”

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  She took a deep breath and slowly pulled her hand free.

  Matt cleared his throat. “I should probably go home now.”

  Her throat felt tight so she nodded. Standing, she snagged her robe and put it on, then walked to the window. Arms wrapped around her waist, she watched his reflection in the glass as he dressed. The relationship with Matt had been perfect. Damn Camille.

  Once dressed, Matt came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll head home now
but I’ll be back tomorrow night for work. Unless you meant you were firing me as well.”

  She shook her head but didn’t turn to look at him or meet his eye in the reflection. “You’re a good bouncer.”

  “And a good friend. That won’t change until you tell me it has.” He squeezed her shoulders gently and exited the room.

  As the door closed behind him, she leaned her cheek against the cool window pane. She stared out at the night, waiting, watching. Soon, Matt appeared on the street below. After pushing the door shut, he gave it an extra tug to ensure it was locked and then looked up. He made no move to acknowledge her, though she was sure he could see her standing there. For a long moment, they stared at each other. She wondered what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Was he hurt? Indifferent? Hoping she’d gesture for him to return? She kept her arms wrapped around herself and eventually he turned and walked away.

  She watched him disappear into the night and let out a long, slow breath. There was no tear in her eye, no ache in her heart. It wasn’t possible. Her heart was dead and had been for years.

  From the shadows, Dante watched the bouncer leave the club. A glance at his watch confirmed the time. Matthias Bendov was leaving early.

  The man walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pocket. Pausing by his truck, he pulled keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, only to stop. He looked back towards Gwyneth’s apartment, lightly tossing the keys in his hand. Eventually he sighed, pressed the button to relock the vehicle before putting the keys back in his pocket and continuing on his way. Apparently, he’d changed his mind about driving home. Odd. His walk was different than normal. Not dejected but not his usual confident stride either.

  Dante swung his gaze upward to Gwyneth’s apartment. He could see her silhouette. She was watching the bouncer leave. Her back was straight, her chin up but the arms wrapped around herself were telling a different story; she wasn’t happy.

  The sound of Bendov’s footsteps gradually grew fainter. Gwyneth stayed in the window until he turned the corner and vanished from sight. Only then did she leave her spot. Less than a minute later, the lights in the apartment went out. It would appear she’d gone to bed.

  “I believe the two have had a falling out.” He murmured the words to his wolf.

  An angry bear would be walking quickly, perhaps even stomping, the animal pointed out.

  “True. Given the pace of the bouncer’s walk, it doesn’t seem likely.”

  And the witch, if she was angry, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she was watching him leave.

  “Well, something has happened or there would have been no reason for Bendov to leave at this time of night.”

  A division between the two, for whatever reason, will play right into our hands. We’ll not have to find a way to remove the bear.

  “And with the other shifter out of the way, it should be easier to make our move.”

  He continued to speculate and plan while he watched Gwyneth’s apartment. He’d stay for a while longer to ensure she was settled for the night before heading back to his room. His sleep requirements were minimal; a few hours and he was good to face the day.

  Tomorrow, he’d meet with her under the guise of an envoy of the Affiliation Office. Questions about the workings of the Coven could be blamed on trying to gain a greater understanding and trust between members. The email he’d sent to Camille had been acknowledged so he’d have a few days before the ruse was discovered and—

  There is a light in the club.

  His wolf’s comment interrupted his thoughts. It would seem Gwyneth was still awake. “What do you think? Is she getting a drink? Doing bookwork as a cure for insomnia?”

  Perhaps heading out for a walk?

  He waited but she didn’t appear.

  She could be heading to the basement.

  He nodded. “Getting a drink from her private stock.” It was possible, but his gut was telling him no.

  There was no one about, but one never knew who could be watching. He stepped back into the deepest shadows and shifted into his wolf form before padding across the street. If anyone saw him prowling about they’d think he was a stray searching for scraps.

  A quick peek in the windows showed there was indeed a light coming from a stairway near the back of the club. He circled the building finally finding a basement window near the back. It was covered with a metal security grate, almost completely hidden by weeds and a large dumpster. The stench of garbage had him curling his lip but he pushed himself into the small space and tried to see through the filthy glass.

  Even though the images were blurred, he could make out Gwyneth opening a heavy door. The room it led to was a wine cellar yet she didn’t look at the array of bottles. Instead she bent and pulled open the drawer of a small sideboard and removed a book.

  He growled in frustration as she moved from his line of sight. Another small window was a few feet away and he inched his way over to it. This one was boarded up but a small crack in the wooden barrier was enough to give him a glimpse inside. Gwyneth was carefully setting the book on a table in the middle of the room. She then sat in a wooden chair and simply stared straight ahead.

  His breathing quickened as he realized the book must be her family grimoire. He wondered why she wasn’t opening it. Minutes ticked by and a faint glow appeared, waves of light so pure and clear they hurt his eyes. They rose and fell around Gwyn and the book in front of her, filling the room yet not extending beyond the doorway. Was she preparing to cast a spell and if so, what kind?

  A sound behind him drew his attention. A man was stumbling down the alley, the stinging scent of alcohol filling the air. He looked back at the window, wanting to stay and watch; but not everyone reacted kindly to strays and he had no desire to be kicked or have stones lobbed at him. Plus, the commotion might alert Gwyn. Quickly, quietly, he slipped away pondering what Gwyneth had been doing.

  Across town, Damien sat on the edge of his bed and quietly pulled open the drawer of the bedside table, careful not to wake Sam who was sleeping beside him. He took out an old cigar box, set it in his lap and opened the lid. It was a memory box of sorts containing items from his past that held meaning to him. The contents were meager; most of his possessions had been lost in the fire that had destroyed his home several years back but he’d managed to gather a few things from friends and his adoptive parents. Not that it mattered. Truth was, there wasn’t much from his past that he cared to recall.

  He withdrew a photo showing three laughing young men sprawled on the grass. The Black Devils, that’s what he and his friends had called themselves at the Academy. A soft laugh escaped him as he recalled all the trouble he, Ryne and Kane had managed to get into. Life had been a lot simpler back then. Drinking, women, occasionally showing up to class. Like all good things, it had eventually ended, each of them going their separate way. Kane was making a name for himself as a formidable Alpha. Ryne was in northern Canada building his pack. And he was about to become a father. Yeah, times changed.

  He poked through the contents of the box some more and picked up a set of dog tags. The soft light of the bedside table allowed him to read his name and serial number. After graduating from the Academy, he’d been recruited by Reno to work as an Enforcer at Lycan Link. His hand closed around the cool metal, memories of good times and some bad washing over him. Eventually, he set it aside for another photo.

  Beth. His first mate. He brushed his finger over her face. She’d been so young and innocent when they’d met. Quiet and thoughtful, gentle and shy, she’d been his complete opposite yet he’d loved her with all his heart and her death had almost destroyed him. Even after her death, he’d struggled to let her go. It had taken almost losing Sam for him to realize he couldn’t live in the past.

  With a sigh, he set the picture back in the box and pulled out the two items he’d been looking for. His original birth certificate and a scrap of paper. The birth certificate was unremarkable. Mother unknown. Father unknown. Place of
birth unknown. The date of birth was a guess. He’d been left at an orphanage with nothing but the clothes he wore, a blanket and a scrap of paper bearing his name.

  As he’d done so many times before, he studied the scrap looking for a clue to his identity. It was a cash register receipt from a store on the Academy campus and on the back was his name. Damien Carlos written in block letters but no last name. Obviously, his parents hadn’t cared enough to claim him with a family name. The omission had always hurt though he’d never told anyone.

  For years, he’d operated on the principle that if they didn’t want him, then he didn’t want them. He’d never gone looking for his parents, never investigated his background. His adoptive family, the Mastersons, had taken him in but it hadn’t been a good fit and they’d dumped him at the Academy as soon as they could.

  Damien Carlos. He brushed his thumb over the letters. Who had written the words? It seemed like a man’s printing; bold, dark strokes. His father?

  “Damien?” Sam murmured his name sleepily.

  “Shh, go back to sleep.” He whispered the words over his shoulder and put the papers back in the box.

  She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Sorry I woke you.” He placed the box on the bedside table then swung his legs back onto the bed.

  “Something is bothering you, tell me.” She hitched herself up so she was sitting beside him.

  “Just thinking about you and the baby. Hoping you’ll be safe.”

  “There’s no reason to be worried. I’ve told you that before. I’m a tough Alpha and perfectly healthy.”

  “I know.” He stared at her, studying her features. Her gaze was direct and steady even after having been dragged from her sleep.

  “Shadows from the past?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “My head says history doesn’t repeat itself…”

  “But at night the demons take over.”