by Tara West
EILEA WAS LIVING A nightmare. Soon after Tor left them, both Loki and Rene fell ill. Loki projectile vomited green goo on the floor and wall. It was like something out of The Exorcist. Rene rushed to help his brother, slipped in the vomit, and banged his head on the floor.
Without any nurses to help her, Eilea was stuck with the gruesome task of cleaning up them and the clinic. Fortunately, Nakomi helped, taking on most of the work. In her eight years as a doctor, Eilea had been subjected to all kinds of body fluids, but none as putrid as sick shifter vomit. Eilea tried to help him to bed but ended up getting puked on. After a quick wash and change of scrubs, she found all three shifter brothers tucked in bed, with Nakomi and Raz fussing over them. She was grateful to the shifters for their help but wondered if they’d soon fall ill, too.
“Raz,” Eilea said, wanting to lay a hand on her shoulder but thinking better of it. “I thank you for your help, but I’m worried about you being exposed to this.” The elderly usually suffered the most during epidemics. She would feel terrible if the old woman died.
“I’m not worried.” Raz shrugged a bony shoulder. “If the Ancients call me, it’s my time.”
Eilea felt totally overwhelmed and out of her element. “But your mates.”
“They will follow soon after.” Raz cupped Eilea’s cheek with a wrinkled, dry hand, her weathered face crinkling like an old map. “I’ve sent my mates home, and I’ve been exposed to demon burn before.”
“You have?”
She nodded. “When I was a child, visiting relatives in Romania.”
“Does this mean you’ve built up an immunity?”
“Possibly.” Raz winked. “We will find out in due time.”
Eilea looked at Nakomi, who was smoothing a cool cloth across her alpha’s head. “And what about you?”
“You need not concern yourself over me.” She didn’t meet Eilea’s eyes. Could this be a sign she was finally softening?
Eilea strengthened her resolve. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job to be concerned.”
Nakomi stiffened and let out a low growl.
Raz clucked her tongue, giving Eilea a sympathetic look.
She heaved an exasperated breath, storming out of the room. Fuck! Why had she promised Tatiana she’d stay? She’d never hated a goddamn fucking job so much in her life. She had to find a way out of this shithole before she went insane.
Chapter Four
FUNNY HOW AMARA KNEW her in-laws were on their way before Luc did. She hadn’t even scented them, but she just knew, as if she could sense things before they happened. She was only about two weeks pregnant, and already her child’s powers were starting to work through her. They’d just sat down to dinner when she felt the pull of their presence and knew they came bearing terrible news. Her appetite soured, and she walked onto the porch without a word, too choked up to speak. Legs weak from fright, she clutched the banister and gazed at the silhouettes of trees just beyond their house. Why did it feel like she was being watched? A chill swept down her arms, and she had a feeling it wasn’t due to the cold.
Luc was the first to reach her. He’d been unusually possessive since they’d conceived a child. “Amara,” he said, “What are you doing? Come back inside.” He gently tugged her elbow. “It’s too cold out here, and you need to eat.”
She shook off his hand and hugged herself as a frigid breeze blew through her hair, making her shiver. A sudden whirlwind tossed leaves around her feet.
Aaaaamara, the wind whispered in her ear.
Overcome by a wave of dizziness, she leaned against Luc. Had the wind called her name? A clearer vision of her mates’ family flashed across her mind: Tor gripping the steering wheel with whitened knuckles, Tatiana in the backseat, crying on her mother’s shoulder, the rest of her mates’ fathers sitting stoically, looking out the windows as if they expected the forest’s shadows to lash out at them.
She turned to Luc, searching his dark eyes. “Your fathers are coming.” Her alpha, Hakon, stood in the doorway. “They bring bad news.”
“Are you sure?” Hakon asked.
She nodded.
He scanned the horizon. He believed her. She’d predicted the Strongpaw’s phone call this morning.
Luc’s nostrils flared. “I smell them approaching.”
The wind whipped Amara’s hair again. Aaamaraaa. A shiver wracked her. “Did you hear that?”
Luc scrunched his brow. “Hear what?”
She shook her head, trying to clear the sudden fog. “I’m not sure. Someone is calling my name.”
Hakon held out a hand. “Come, Amara. We can wait for them inside.”
She followed him on legs that felt like two wet noodles. He pulled her into the house, eyes turning from mahogany to gold.
“I scent something dark,” Luc said, trailing them and shutting the door behind him. “Something wicked.”
Hakon turned up his nose. “I smell it, too. Reminds me of... never mind. It can’t be.”
Amara had smelled something, too. Foul, like rotten eggs. She followed her mates to the table, sat, and twirled pasta on her fork, though she wasn’t hungry. That rotten egg stench was embedded in her senses, sticking to her tongue like a fine coating of dust.
Luc nudged her. “The baby needs you to eat.”
She complied, absently chewing and forcing herself to swallow. Not only did the baby in her womb need nourishment, but she was still breastfeeding another baby and a toddler.
Her youngest son, Alexi, wore most of his food in his hair, his chubby, tanned cheeks stained red while he played with pieces of chopped up pasta. Hrod was trying to twirl his spaghetti on a plastic fork, getting angry with himself and banging the tray when the noodles unraveled. He was still cute, even when upset, with impossibly chubby cheeks and large, playful eyes. He was determined to conquer his dinner, no matter how many twirls it took.
Her mates leapt from their chairs at the sound of their fathers’ truck tires peeling into the drive.
Her alphas, Hakon and Drasko, rushed to the front door. Luc held a hand down to her. She glanced at her Gamma, Rone, who stayed behind with the babies, wiping sauce off Alexi’s chin and showing Hrod how to capture his noodles. How she loved him for his steadfast kindness and patience with their children. She thought of the sick Strongpaw gamma, and her heart clenched. If anything happened to Rone—if anything happened to any of her family—she’d die from heartbreak.
Amara’s legs grew as heavy as concrete as she went with Luc. A sulfuric smell hit her as soon as Hakon opened the front door. She remembered that evil odor from Romania’s haunted forest.
”Fathers, what’s wrong?” Hakon asked as he went down the porch steps.
Tor helped Mihaela out of the car. “We need you to keep your mother and sister safe.” He nodded at Tatiana, who jumped out of the truck, sticking closely to Tor’s side.
“Where are you going?” Hakon asked.
Shadows fell across Tor’s features. “The Eaglespeakers are missing. We need to find them.”
Luc released Amara and stepped forward. “I’ll come with you.”
She reached for him with a trembling hand. “No, Luc,” she breathed.
When Tor held out a staying hand, Amara heaved a shuddering breath of relief.
“Why not, Father?” Luc asked.
Tor threw a glance at the forest behind him. “Because it’s too dangerous.”
“What do you mean?” Luc asked, then fell silent.
Amara watched with a slackened jaw when Skoll, her second alpha father-in-law, ripped a hole in a bag of salt. He and Van, her tracker father-in-law, each held an end of the bag and poured a line around the porch. Her gamma father-in-law, Arvid, followed behind them with a smoking bushel of sage.
What the hell were they doing?
She thought she heard a whisper on the wind, but it was cut off when the air abruptly stilled.
Tor crossed his arms. “The salt circle and sage are for Katarina.”
“Katarina?”
The wicked stepmother who had died over a year ago?
Tor wrapped a protective arm around Tatiana. “Her spirit’s been haunting your sister.”
Tatiana nodded. “I kept it secret out of fear of reprisal.”
Tor hugged her tighter, kissing the top of her head.
Amara’s knees gave out, and she fell back on the porch step with a thud, ignoring the pain shooting up her sore behind.
Luc was at her side in an instant. “Are you okay?”
She nodded as thoughts whirled in her head. That hadn’t been the wind calling her name. That had been Katarina. Fuck. She suspected step mommy dearest hadn’t returned from the dead to bring her fresh-baked cookies.
“There’s more.” Tor grimaced. “She’s opened a portal to the underworld. That’s how the Strongpaws ended up with demon sickness.”
Amara swallowed bile. “All of them are sick?”
“All but their mate.”
“Great Ancients,” Amara breathed. Was this infection contagious? If so, how was she going to cure it?
“The portal entrance causes shifters who go near it to become disoriented,” Tor continued. “The Strongpaws wandered the forest for three days before they found their way out. They thought they heard the elder Eaglespeakers in the forest. We just came from their home. It’s empty. There’s no sign of them.”
Fuckity fuck. This was bad.
“And you can’t make their sons go after them?” Drasko asked.
“No. They are visiting their mate’s family in Romania.” Tor gestured to his brothers, who were pouring salt on the other side of the house. “We are the chieftain pack. It’s our job to go.”
“Father,” Luc pleaded, “if anyone can find them, I can.”
Sirens went off in Amara’s head. He couldn’t go.
“No, Luc.” Tor vehemently shook his head. “You are not to go into the forest. I won’t risk your soul to this beast.”
“What if you don’t come back?” Hakon asked, standing as still as a statue and staring at Tor as if he was looking at a dead man.
“Then leave us.” Nervous-sounding laughter bubbled up in Tor’s throat. “And find a way to close the portal from outside the forest.”
Hakon urgently threw out his hands. “But you’d all be trapped.”
Tor’s brothers returned with an empty bag of salt and stump of smoking sage.
“We know,” Tor said.
Mihaela cried out, then bit down on her knuckles.
Amara pitied her mother-in-law. She’d probably lose her cool, too, if her mates had to go into a dangerous, cursed forest. She looked at the set, determined jaws of her mates and knew without a doubt that if their fathers didn’t come back, they would disobey Tor’s orders and go after them.
AMARA HAD A HARD TIME falling asleep, knowing her mates’ fathers were out searching for the Eaglespeaker pack. Before he left, Tor had said they would find the missing pack and then close the portal. He’d kissed Mihaela and Tatiana goodbye, leaving them with Amara and her mates. Her mother and sister-in-law were in the spare bedroom. They were probably wide awake, like her.
After checking on her sleeping boys in the crib next to her bed, she laid down between her mates, tossing and turning while trying to get comfortable.
Hakon rubbed her back. “Sleep,” he soothed. “Ask the goddess to visit you in your dreams and explain what’s happening.”
“I will,” she breathed. She sent a prayer to the goddess, begging her to come to her. Her tribe needed answers.
AMARA FLOATED TOWARD a familiar silhouette, mist swirling at her feet. Her namesake, the Goddess Amara, waited for her by a raised pool of water.
“Goddess!” She propelled herself faster, her legs unmoving as she leaned forward, letting the wind carry her. “Thank you for seeing me.”
The beautiful goddess with the long black hair and porcelain skin stood, holding her hands out to her. “It was the least I could do.” Clasping Amara’s hands in hers, she pulled her to the stone ledge that circled the mists.
She sat beside the goddess, desperately searching her eyes. “Please tell me what’s happening. Tor says Katarina has opened a portal to the underworld.”
The goddess solemnly nodded. “Portals to the afterlife open for spirits when they die. They close when those spirits pass through. Katarina fought the pull of the afterlife. She knows she will not be welcomed into heaven.”
If Katarina couldn’t get into heaven, would she haunt Earth forever? Would the portal never close? “Where will she go?”
The goddess’s brows knitted together. “A dark and lonely place.”
She bit her lip, twisting her fingers in her lap. “I suppose I don’t need to ask why you won’t take her.” She wanted to beg the goddess to take Katarina into heaven, but she knew her stepmonster wasn’t deserving of a rewarding afterlife.
The goddess flashed a smile that appeared forced. “We could not bear her complaints and tantrums for an eternity, especially when her mates bond with another.”
“But look at what she’s doing to us. Amaroki are getting sick.”
“You will have to find a way to force her through the portal. Only then will it close.”
“How do I do that?” Amara pleaded.
Her eyes lit up. “Use the witch.”
“The witch?” Amara drew back. “Where do I find one?”
“There is one among the Amaroki.” The goddess stood, holding out her hands. “She will know what must be done.”
Amara took the goddess’s hands, letting her help her up. “And if she doesn’t?”
Shadows fell across the goddess’s luminous eyes. “Then more of your tribe will get sick. Some may even die.”
She clung to the goddess as she felt the pull of gravity, dragging her back to the mortal plane. She still had questions that needed answers. “Why can’t I cure them?”
“You can’t heal them until the portal is closed.” She stared at something over Amara’s shoulder. “You must hurry before more spirits find their way through. Some worse than Katarina. Demons.”
“Demons?” Amara gasped. “What will they do?”
“Once the demons pass through, it may be too late to close the portal.” The goddess’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “They will turn your beloved reservation into a haunted forest like the Hoia Baciu.”
“Wait!” Amara cried. “Who is this witch? Where do I find her?”
“I cannot out her. She will reveal herself when she’s ready.”
Amara panicked. “What if she doesn’t? What if everyone gets sick and none of us can close the portal?”
“You will not get sick. If you’ve already had demon burn, or you have human blood, you are protected from this virus.”
So she was immune to the virus? “What of the witch? Is she immune, too?”
A scream died on Amara’s lips as she tipped over the edge of the clouds, falling back into the black hole from where she’d come. Great Ancients! Her beloved reservation was about to turn into a haunted forest and she had no idea where to find the witch.
Chapter Five
WHAT IS THIS PLACE? Arvid’s thought projected into Tor’s mind as he spun a slow circle, his tail tucked between his legs.
Tor scanned the area, his thick protector legs feeling oddly weak. Despite his superior wolf-touched eyesight, he could barely make out the dark trees surrounding them. His vision tunneled on the humming white orb in front of them, stretching into a long shaft of mist spinning like a sideways cyclone. Strange how he heard not a sound in this part of the forest, as if all life had been sucked into the orb. The air was heavier, too, pressing down on him, crushing his lungs as if he was breathing in soup.
I-I don’t know. Tor scratched his head with a furry paw. What had his brothers been talking about?
Do you remember what we were doing? Skoll asked Tor, his furry protector face draped in a frown.
I think we were looking for someone, Tor answered. But he didn’t remember who. He sh
ook his head to try to clear the fog, but it was no use. That soupy, stifling air had settled in his mind, too.
Van looked at his hind legs. Why is there a rope tied around my waist?
Tor followed the length of rope attached to his wolf brother’s waist. It disappeared into the trees. I think it’s to show us the way out.
Van let out a low whimper. From where?
I’m not sure.
With a low whine, Arvid took a step toward the orb, which pulsed like a living heartbeat.
Don’t touch it, Tor thought to his brother. I think it’s a portal of some sort.
Arvid whimpered, arching his back like a feral cat and backing away from the orb.
A cry for help cut through the fog in Tor’s brain. Do you hear that?
Voices, Van said, angling his gray ears toward the sound.
Arvid’s whimpers grew louder. What are they saying?
Help us! The cry resonated through the small clearing, echoing against the trees.
The echo appeared to be coming from inside the orb. Tor held a hand to one ear. I recognize their voices.
They sound like the Eaglespeakers. Van raised his snout. I can smell them, too.
Skoll puffed out his hairy chest. We should go in and help them.
Tor laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. No.
Skoll arched a bushy brow. Why?
Tor didn’t know why. He just knew, once they went into the portal, they were never coming out.
Over here! Van called.
Tor gave a start. He hadn’t realized his brother had left them.
He plodded over to Van, feeling as if he was marching through quicksand with each step. What is it?
Van pointed at four lifeless wolves, whose haunted eyes stared up at them, gray tongues falling out of their slackened jaws and their bodies covered in raised welts. The Eaglespeakers.
Damn. Though Tor knew he should’ve had more of a reaction to finding his tribe members dead, he hardly felt any remorse. It was as if he’d lost his empathy. How did they die?