I should have reacted so much sooner.
I bite down hard on his palm. At least I have enough strength for this much. He jerks his hand back with a curse, and I scream again, louder. My hands scrabble at the rail of the bed, trying to yank my heavy body up.
Move, move, move, you worthless sack of flesh and bone!
He recovers quickly, producing something from his pocket-a syringe, the needle gleaming under the harsh lights.
“I didn’t want to do this yet, but you’re not giving me much choice.”
I thrash wildly, kicking at the blankets, but my movements are uncoordinated, my body still weak. He grabs my arm with unsurprising strength, pinning it against the mattress as I flail.
The cold sting of the needle pricks my skin, and almost immediately, the edges of my vision begin to blur.
“Wha…”
My tongue feels thick, uncooperative.
“What did you…”
“Shh.”
He’s back to not looking at me, attention fixed on pushing the bed through the doorway.
“Just relax. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
Damn it. Who the hell would be after someone like me? Lyre’s quip about Caine being kidnapped by the local pack runs through my head, sending a chill down my spine. She should be back soon, right? She’ll find me… or Caine will.
CAINE
To the unobservant eye, the house is exactly as Elizabeth says. Her home.
But it doesn’t take much effort to scratch at the lie.
Devoid of personal effects, lacking the clutter everyone’s living space acquired. Every piece of silverware is accounted for. There are no scratches on any of the cookware. Even the closets are eerily empty.
The cleaning supplies located under the kitchen sink are all brand new. There’s no bag in the trash can, and the box of replacements is unopened.
No vacuum. No broom.
Everything you’d consider a daily necessity of life is missing. There are extra sheets in the linen closet and a small stack of towels, as if this is a guest house, not a home.
The fading light casts long shadows across the room. Fenris’s hackles raise from his position by the door. He’s been tense since we arrived.
Me, too.
My phone vibrates against my thigh. Another message.
The screen illuminates with a photo-Grace, pale and vulnerable against hospital sheets. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, eyes closed, chest rising in shallow breaths. The rainbow-haired nuisance sits nearby, book in hand, watching over what’s mine.
I zoom in on Grace’s face with my thumb, tracing the curve of her cheek through the screen. A poor substitute for the real thing. The longing to touch her, to breathe in her unique blueberry scent claws at my chest.
Being apart is agony, growing worse with every hour.
“She’d be safer with me.”
Fenris growls his agreement. If it wasn’t for the strangeness of this place, he would have run to the hospital, doing his damnedest to sneak in regardless of their position on animals.
I scroll through previous messages, it’s been hours since Lyre contacted me directly, leaving me reliant on the Fiddleback contact, a nurse at the hospital who sends photos like clockwork but offers no real information.
Of course, Grace is sleeping. There isn’t much to report. But it still rankles.
My jaw tightens. This arrangement is intolerable. Once I get Grace to Lycan territory, under my protection, surrounded by people I trust…
A hiccup breaks my concentration.
The wizard kneels before me, a pathetic sight with his trembling hands clenched atop bony knees. Thom keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow.
“Look at me when I speak to you.”
His groveling only makes my distaste for him grow.
Thom’s head jerks up, his glasses sliding down his nose. Behind the tinted lenses, his eyes hold a strange, foggy quality. The familiar, harsh scent of fear radiates off him like waves.
“Explain it again.”
I set my phone face-down beside me.
“And this time, make sense.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. Er, High Alpha.”
A full-body shudder runs through him.
“There’s something interfering with the magical currents in this region.”
“What kind of something?”
“I… cannot say, High Alpha. It’s old. And s-strange. Not natural.”
His voice cracks.
“Define strange.”
“As I’ve explained before, magic has signatures. Textures. Like scent, for you.”
His hands shake, the knuckles turning pale, despite my reasonable attitude as I listen to his explanation for a second time.
“Normal magic is clean. This is messy. Like a blurry photo. Or static.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“You said it was interfering with Grace’s location earlier.”
Thom nods.
“But it’s stronger here?”
He nods again, his head jerking like a puppet.
“It’s concentrated here. I thought it was s-strong near the c-campground, but…”
“Stop stuttering.”
“Y-yes, High Alpha.”
Rubbing at my eyebrow, I sigh.
“And you don’t know what it could be? How do you know it’s old?”
“It just feels… old.”
The copper wires of his glasses catch the light as he swallows.
“Could it be some sort of trap?”
“No.”
For the first time, his voice carries conviction.
“Not a spell. It’s older. A presence. Something which affects everything inside of its boundaries.”
My nostrils flare, testing the air. All I smell is the stale emptiness of this staged house, the wizard’s fear-sweat, and a faint chemical tang clinging to the new furnishings, almost plastic.
“And this affects your tracking abilities how?”
“It’s like… trying to see through m-murky water.”
His fingers twitch, his confidence already gone.
“Signals get lost. Distorted. When I tried to focus on your… on the girl, there was… interference.”
“Her name is Grace.”
“Uh. Yes. G-Grace.”
He pushes his glasses higher.
“When I try to track her, something pushes back. It’s why I couldn’t get a clear location until we were practically on top of her.”
My phone buzzes again. Another update. Same format. Different angle of the same scene-Grace sleeping, Lyre reading.
Even with these updates, I feel uneasy. Why is the rainbow-haired brat no longer messaging me?
She’s been silent since I left the area.
Does she really think she can get by with ignoring me?
My jaw tightens as I pick up my phone again. Enough of this silence. I swipe to Lyre’s contact and type out a message with more force than necessary.
[CAINE: Any medical updates on Grace? Real ones, not just photos.]
The message sits there, undelivered.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.