I hated to admit it, but Irvine was right about one thing – there was nothing casual about what we shared. The sex was amazing – oh god was it amazing – but it wasn’t why I came back to see him over and over.
I love you, Willow Summers.
I’d thought … if he really felt that way about me, he would try and find some way to be with me. I expected flowers, heartfelt apologies, grand gestures like the ones in romance films that would somehow make everything right between us.
No. He’s a werewolf. You don’t want him back. It was better this way. I’d become too attached to him and the pack and my life here. I should have known it could never last. I shoved the phone back in my jacket, and tried to focus on the display of personalised party favours in front of me. Irvine wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t my fated mate. He was the guy I was sleeping with. People did that all the time, and they didn’t go into a maudlin depression when they stopped.
“Here you go.” The bouncy salesgirl returned, carrying an enormous cardboard box stuffed with sample decorations. “We’re all out of the green fairy lights at the moment, but I’ve added two strings of pale pink just so you can see how they look—”
“Take them back,” I snapped, shoving the box back into her arms.
“Excuse me?”
“The pink fairy lights. Take them back. This is not a pink bride I’m dealing with. If you don’t have the green then I’ll just get them somewhere else.”
“But—”
“Look, I’ll do it myself.” I grabbed a string of lights from the top of the box, dropped it on the counter, and stormed out of the shop. My gut twisted at the thought of how rude I’d been, but who cares? She was a salesgirl. Her job was to deal with rude people.
I leaned the box against the side of the car, bending back at an awkward angle to insert my key in the door.
“I want to talk to you,” a voice growled right by my ear.
I jumped back, and the box clattered onto the footpath. Glass fairy lights smashed against the concrete. I whirled my arms in the air as I scrambled to remain on my feet. I glanced up from the mess, and my eyes met the face of my stalker.
I froze. My throat closed in terror.
“What … what do you want?” I managed to choke out.
“Please, don’t run away. I’ll help you clean all that up, I promise. Just listen to me for a second. It’s really important that I tell you about your boyfriend.”
“Well, then you have nothing to say to me, because I don’t have a boyfriend.” He shifted forward, but I backed up, so I was leaning against the car. “This is a busy street. If you don’t back away right now, I’m going to scream.”
He took a step back, and raised his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I’m sorry. I really don’t want to scare you.”
“You’ve been watching me. That’s pretty scary.”
“Only because I was trying to get you alone, so I could tell you that you have to stay away from the Scottish werewolf. He’s dangerous.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stayed silent.
The man sucked in a deep breath. “My name is Lachlan Ross, of the Stoneleigh Castle Hunting Lodge. Five years ago, your werewolf murdered my father.”
I stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. Murder? That didn’t sound like Irvine, even Irvine the wolf.
Lachlan nodded vigorously. “He did. I saw it with my own eyes. We were out checking fox traps, when we turned toward the ridge and there was this wolf standing there, plain as day. A wolf! In Scotland! It bared its teeth and growled. I think Pa wasn’t sure what to make of it. I think he thought it was a big, rabid dog, and he was worried it might attack. I dinnae ken, because I’ll never get the chance to ask him.”
“What happened?” I whispered.
“Pa shot it. We raced up the ridge to inspect it, to see if our eyes really didn’t deceive us. Then, from out of nowhere, there was a second wolf. It leapt at my Pa and tore his throat out. Blood stained the snow pink. The wolf shook Pa’s body and dropped it into the snow, then turned to me. I thought I was done for, but instead, the beast transformed into a man. Right in front of me! A naked man with evil grey eyes and my father’s blood streaming down his face. He told me to run. I ran. I ran back to the lodge and reported what I’d seen. I gave his description to the police. They found Pa and did an autopsy, but they said a wild dog attacked Pa. They said I must’ve been mistaken about the man I saw. Pa’s death was ruled an accident and that was it, we were just supposed to go on with our lives. There’s no justice for me. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I do.”
Lachlan didn’t seem to have heard me. “But I ken what I saw. I never forgot his face. I’ve been looking for him for years, and I finally saw him in a photograph on the Werewolf Watch website. He was in the background of a wedding photo where another werewolf had transformed. The press said it was a stunt, but I ken better. So I came here to Crookshollow, and I saw him with you, and I ken I had to warn you, before you lost something you love, too.”
For the second time since I fled London and promised myself I’d pretend I was normal, I lifted up my pant leg and showed him my prosthetic.
“A werewolf did that to me,” I said, surprised that my voice didn’t shake at all. Lachlan’s eyes widened as he took in the prosthesis, then lifted again to my face.
“I ken it … I ken you looked familiar. You’re the daughter of Helen Winters, aren’t you? You were the one whose own father ripped off your leg. I saw you in her YouTube videos—”
“We’re on the street,” I said sharply, dropping my leg. “I don’t go by that name anymore. Thanks for your concern about my safety, but Irvine has gone from my life now. I don’t think he’ll be back.”
His shoulders slumped with relief. “I’m glad to hear it. I just wish there was something I could do to stop them, you ken? I dinnae want anyone else to get hurt.”
An idea started to form in my mind. “Maybe there is something you can do. The werewolves are planning something big. I can’t do anything to stop it, but I know more about it than probably any other human. I can’t go back to London, but if you really want to help stop this evil, then you could go to my mother. I’ll tell you everything I know about what the shifters are planning, and maybe you can help her stop them.”
Lachlan’s face brightened. For the first time, I noticed that he was quite handsome. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”
I gestured to the box of smashed lights sitting on the footpath in front of me. “I have some work to do now. Come to my place at 7 p.m. tonight. I assume you still know where I live. I’ll give you all the information you need.”
We shook hands, and he helped me pick up all the broken glass and throw it into a nearby rubbish bin. I slid the box of unbroken strings into the backseat. “Thank you for listening to me,” he said as I pulled away. I nodded, numb to his bright smile.
My mind whirred as I headed out toward Raynard Hall to deliver the lights. My skin crawled.
Irvine murdered someone. All this time, I’d been sleeping with a murderer. Did the pack know? They must’ve known, because they’d sent Irvine away and said the stalker wouldn’t bother me. They knew Lachlan was after him.
They were supposed to be my friends, but they betrayed me, too.
That’s it. I’m done being the quiet amputee who let everyone walk all over me and make my decisions for me. I am going to take matters into my own hands.
Willow Summers wasn’t just going to lie back and let her life be taken away. Shapeshifters would become public knowledge over my dead body.
35
Irvine
I hate London.
The thought ground at my head with every waking moment. It drummed in my ears while I met with pack leaders in secret and took tea with politicians at the Savoy and shoved my way through hordes of tourists crowding the street outside Buckingham Palace.
I hated the crow
ds and the smog and the grey, drab buildings. I hated the tiny closet in a filthy squat that passed as my headquarters. Most of all, I hated the fact that I hadn’t seen or touched Willow in a month.
I hadn’t realised how much I’d come to rely on her presence, until I found myself sleeping under the stars in my wolf form, without her warm body beside me.
Caleb sent me to London under the protection of the Lowell pack, hoping to hide me from the boy’s wrath and protect Caleb’s secrets at the same time. It didn’t seem to be doing much good – stories about his plans were leaking into the Werewolf Watch, and discontent among the London shifter community was growing. Some agreed with Caleb, some disagreed, but all wondered if he’d be able to pull off what he was trying to do.
Today, I sat on a graffiti-covered bench in Highgate Wood. I’d been given an ancient laptop by the Lowell pack to help me with my work. It rested on my knees, with my phone providing a wifi hotspot, while I searched for yet more articles on Carol Winters – the woman I had known as Willow, my mate. No matter how many times I saw them, I couldn’t seem to turn away.
There she was, a blonde wedding planner lauded as the genius behind the most anticipated royal wedding of the decade. There she was again, speaking in an interview with the Daily Post about the harrowing attack that left her an amputee. My chest tightened every time her picture flashed up on the screen – that beautiful golden hair that perfectly framed her heart-shaped face.
Every word she wrote stung me, twisting the knife of her betrayal deeper. Werewolves are evil. They cannot control the monster within. They must be stopped. The only thing that protects humans is the fact that they must live in the shadows.
The words burrowed their way inside me, a constant mantra that haunted my dreams and followed me to every meeting.
They cannot control the monster within.
I’d dared to hope that with her as my mate, I had a chance at a normal life. That I would have been able to step out of the shadows and atone for my sins. My love for her burned bright and hot in my veins, but because of who she was, we could never have a future.
There could be no redemption for me.
A burst of anger seized me. It wasn’t fair. If Willow couldn’t accept me for what I was, then no one ever would.
I grabbed my mobile phone, and tossed it as hard as I could. It landed in a deep puddle on the other side of the path with a sickening splash.
36
Irvine
I’m a fool.
Three nights later, I was back in Highgate Wood, hiding in the edge of the trees, staring out at the same pond where I’d drowned my mobile phone and with it, my link to Crookshollow. Previously, Caleb had been calling me every few days with updates. He was tired of waiting and plotting. He wanted to move. Caleb’s agitation practically vibrated down the phone, mirroring my own.
Now, after three days of no word, no instructions, no updates on what was going on, my agitation was starting to slide over into a full-blown breakdown. That was why I was here, to get answers.
The moon shone cold light through the trees, reflecting off the smooth surface of the pond. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm went off, reminding me that I wasn’t in some remote forest, but in the middle of an enormous city that was hostile to my kind.
Willow. I have to find Willow. I have to know she’s safe.
I hadn’t contacted her since I arrived in London. I didn’t want to speak to her, but my love for her still burned in my veins. At least when I’d been talking to Caleb, he’d been able to give me updates, because he was watching her and waiting to see her pass information to her mother’s people. At least when I had my phone, I still had the possibility of contacting her at a moment’s notice, but now, I had nothing, and it was driving me crazy.
I had no idea how I’d managed to survive for a month without breaking down and calling her. Every time I passed by a red phone booth, the urge to pick up the receiver and dial her number stopped me in my tracks. But I resisted.
I’m doing this for you, Willow, so that you can get your justice. Why cannae you see that?
Caleb’s words echoed in my head. Don’t get distracted. Remember why you’re doing this.
I tried. I tried so hard. I no longer saw my father’s dead eyes when I thought about the plan. Instead, Willow’s face burned in my vision – stuck in the moment of one of her rare smiles. I thought of the tears that sprung in her eyes whenever she felt nervous, the way she called herself “broken” in that deadpan voice, as though she was reciting her shopping list. Because she believed it. Because the humans in her life had made her believe it.
If I could just show her what shifter freedom could mean for her life, then maybe she’d forgive me, maybe she’d understand.
Willow needed to bring her father to justice for what he’d done to her. It was the only way she’d be able to see herself as whole, as the beautiful, amazing creature that I loved with every fibre of my wolfish being. If she got that closure, then she’d be able to fade away into the background of the world. People would stop focusing on her, and she’d be free to live her life the way she wanted.
And that was why I was here in Hyde Park, about to visit someone I hadn’t seen in a long, long time.
In the distance, Big Ben chimed. Midnight. Time to meet my contact. I slipped back, hiding myself in the foliage. Even though it would be unlikely anyone would enter the dark trees this late at night, I kept my body low, ducking and weaving to avoid the paths of the few drunken teenagers who were making out on the edges of the miniature wood.
It took me only a few moments to locate the tree. It looks identical to every other tree, only its smell gave it away. I sniffed around the base, searching for a hiding place, but could find none. Where are you? We had an agreement—
Hey, wolfie. Up here!
The high-pitched voice squeaked inside my head. Relieved, I glanced up. Sitting on a branch high above my head, a small squirrel stood with its tiny hands on its hips.
You’re late.
Don’t blame me, Chip. It took twenty bloody minutes to get across town, and then I had to find somewhere to stash my clothes. Why cannae we meet in a pub like normal people?
The squirrel shook its tiny head. I don’t do humans, and neither should you. They’re a waste of perfectly good oxygen, if you ask me. If they didn’t make such delicious roasted nuts, I wouldn’t bother with them at all. Speaking of which, did you bring payment?
I lifted my paw, shaking off the tiny leather pouch. It hit the ground and the drawstring popped open, spilling a huge handful of honey-roasted cashew nuts across the fallen leaves.
The squirrel leapt down and gathered up the nuts in his arms, dragging as many as he could hold back up the trunk again and stashing them in a hollow.
I accept your payment, he said, collapsing in the crook of a branch and nibbling on a cashew nut. Now, what is it you want to know?
There’s a wolf. I dinnae ken his name, but he used to live in London twenty years ago, and he was married to a lady named Helen Winters. He attacked his own daughter. Do you ken him?
That’s not much to go on.
I ken. So can you help me?
The squirrel nodded. Lucky for you, I remember the story well. You’re talking about Richard Carson. He’s a mutt.
A mutt. That was news to me. Mutts were shifters who had some kind of genetic defect, usually from a human woman without the shifter genes giving birth to a shifter’s baby. A mutt had poor control over their shift or instincts, so they were often unstable and had difficulty functioning in the real world. Ryan and his twin brother Marcus were both mutts, but for some reason Ryan didn’t exhibit many of the common traits. Genetics were freaky like that.
If Willow’s father was a mutt, then that might explain everything.
I bet that’s him. What can you tell me about him?
Not much. His mother abandoned him when he was born, and I don’t know anything about how he survived, but he wasn’t a member of an
y of the known London packs. He married this Helen woman – I think they were even fated mates – but it wasn’t a happy relationship. They were both deep into a bad scene. Richard was a low-level street dealer, and they were high as a kite most of the time, even with that kid in tow. As far as I know from the stories I’ve heard, he was so fucked on the drugs that he didn’t realise it was the full moon, and he was still inside when the change came over him. The daughter was the first thing he saw.
Shite. It really was as Willow had said. This guy was a complete lowlife. His ex-wife owns the Werewolf Watch website.
The squirrel tossed the macadamia shell away, and started on a peanut. I don’t do websites. All I know is that the last time he was heard of, he was living in the London sewers with the other mutts. He’s probably dead in a pile of his own filth by now.
Mutts live in the sewers?
Of course. The squirrel glared at me as he selected another cashew. They’ve got to go somewhere. At least they’re down in the shit, where they should be.
How do I get down there?
There’s a manhole at the edge of the trees, where the park meets Lanchester Road. You can get there without even needing to shift back, if you’re careful.
And what do I—
The squirrel waved a paw in the air, cutting me off. That’s all the answers you’ll get out of me until you bring more nuts.
I glared at him. For a squirrel, you’re a real capitalist.
He stuffed two nuts into his cheeks, and poked his tongue out at me.
I turned and headed in the direction he indicated, keeping as far from the edge of the wood as I dared. On Lanchester Road, I found the manhole he was after. Even better, a crew from the council were there doing some work, and they had the cover open. I waited in the trees for them to stop for a tea break, then bolted from the trees and leapt over the barrier.
This is for you, Willow, I thought, as I aimed my body at the hole and fell down into oblivion.
Wedding the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance Page 21