Chapter 2 Whatever This Is #2
He paused in the doorway, but didn’t turn around.
“Sure.”
I watched him go, wondering not for the first time where his true loyalties lay.
Not with me, certainly; I wasn’t fool enough to believe that.
But I doubted his allegiance to the Cimmerians ran as deep as they might hope, either.
Foster Collins was a survivor, above all else. A lone wolf in more ways than one.
It didn’t matter. By the time my plans came to fruition, allegiances would be irrelevant. Power would be the only currency that mattered, and I intended to be the wealthiest woman in all the supernatural realms.
I turned back to my preparations. Europe awaited, and with it, the final components I needed to bring a certain king to his knees.
#
Foster Collins
I kept my speed exactly at the limit as I pulled away from the Bell homestead. No sense in drawing attention with a lead foot.
The bubble mailer on the passenger seat was another remnant of Serafina’s past, twisted to crack whatever peace she’d found with my Cimmerian boys.
I should burn it like I did the cursed goat horn.
But Arabesque was already suspicious, and I couldn’t afford to lose my position.
Not when I had King Julian’s ear and innocent wolves counting on me to save them before everything went to hell.
The four-hour drive to Evermere stretched ahead, Michigan farmland rolling past my window. Perfect time to make some calls. I waited until I was twenty miles out, far enough that even Arabesque’s detection spells wouldn’t reach, before taking out my secure phone. The one no one knew about.
King Julian picked up on the third ring.
“I’m listening.”
“She’s heading to Europe,” I said without preamble. “Shopping trip, supposedly. Witches’ markets, apothecaries, black magic dealers.”
“When?”
“Today. For a week. Got the bounty from Austin Cho yesterday.”
A pause on the line.
“You think this trip is surveillance, not shopping?”
“Could be.” I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. “She’s been fixated on Prague lately. Maps, intel reports. The Woodland Realm might be her actual target.”
“Or it could be a decoy,” he said, voicing my own suspicion. “Make us think she’s looking at Prague to throw us off the scent. Force us to divert resources there while she strikes elsewhere.”
“Possible. She’s enjoying the confusion she’s creating.” I stared out at the empty highway. “All these kingdoms thinking they know who she’s targeting, all of them wrong.”
“What’s your assessment?”
I took my time to organize my thoughts. King Julian wasn’t just my employer; he was the most dangerous werewolf in North America. Giving him half-baked theories wasn’t an option.
“She’s planning something big. She ordered the apple orchard at the Bell homestead razed. Says she needs the space for something called a Hollowing Rite.”
“Never heard of it.” The king went silent, then exhaled heavily, a rare show of concern. “Continue monitoring. Report any specifics about this rite you discover.”
“Will do.” I hesitated, then pushed forward with my first request. “Call Baby Bell’s new papa and advise him to prepare for hostilities.”
“What?” A note of surprise entered the king’s voice. “Why?”
“Arabesque was talking about reaping the kid’s magic as soon as it manifests.” I shifted uncomfortably, remembering the cold gleam in her eyes. Definitely no maternal love there. “She knows the baby was adopted by parents you chose, but doesn’t appear to know who.”
“She will never touch that child!” King Julian snarled.
“I’m just the messenger,” I reminded him. “There’s more. She’s been hinting lately at looking for another husband. Preferably one with a lunar witch daughter or relative.”
“Like Jonathan Bell.”
“Exactly.” I ran a hand over my face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t think she chose him for his isolation or naivety alone. The second she heard he had a lunar witch daughter, his fate was sealed.”
“So lunar magic is the key to whatever she’s planning.”
“Has to be. You should see her root cellar. Jars upon jars of stored lunar magic siphoned from Serafina. Others, too, but she’s favoring lunar. Whatever war she’s planning to declare, moon witches are playing a starring role.”
“I’ll have my people look into what Dark spells require lunar magic as well as information on the Hollowing Rite.”
“One more thing,” I said, glancing at the time. The encampment got more dangerous by the day, so I couldn’t be away longer than absolutely necessary. “I need an out for four wolves who aren’t rogues. I want them gone before Arabesque returns if possible. If not, before this all blows up.”
“Names?”
“Three just turned eighteen: Cosmo Page, Devi Mintz, and Elio Bozzelli. Then there’s Dominic Loving, twenty-two.”
“Pack affiliations?”
“None current. Dominic’s a lone wolf who Claudio Kane shanghaied. Cosmo’s father was Claudio’s beta. Doesn’t have anywhere to go. Hunters decimated Elio’s pack, Nightwind. I never even heard of it. He seems to be the only survivor.”
“Nightwind?” the king sounded surprised. “Not registered as a kingdom pack. I’ll look into it. And the fourth wolf?”
“Devi was kidnapped from the Algonquin pack outside Toronto. Her alpha wouldn’t pay to get her back.”
“Her? A barely legal she wolf?”
“I can’t keep her safe much longer,” I warned him. “Look, they’re not here by choice. They’re not loyal to Arabesque, and they don’t deserve what’s coming.”
“And you care because?”
“Because I can’t handle another Austin Cho!” The words escaped before I could stop them, harsher than intended.
Another silence, longer this time.
“Send me their information,” the king finally said. “I’ll arrange something.”
“Thank you.”
“Keep in touch, Foster.”
I pocketed the phone and pulled back onto the highway, the sun beating down through the windshield.
I thought about those four wolves back at the camp. They’d been easy to spot among the rabble Arabesque had gathered. Too young, too clean, too uncertain. Not hardened rogues or bloodthirsty mercenaries, just kids who had no options.
I’d kept them together as much as possible, assigning them to the same tasks, usually jobs that kept them away from the main encampment. Dominic had figured out what I was doing pretty quick, especially after an incident with Devi.
The girl had been cornered by one of the worst rogues, a scarred brute with a reputation for violence. I’d arrived in time to catch him pawing at her shirt as she tried to fight him off. He didn’t live three more seconds, and the rest of the camp got the message that she was off-limits.
Devi drew too much attention just by existing as the only female among them. It wasn’t her fault; she was a kid trapped in a camp full of males who saw her as prey, with only me and her three friends standing between her and a fate I didn’t want to contemplate.
The incident had earned me Dominic’s trust, at least. He’d approached me afterward to ask for help.
“Those kids didn’t sign up for whatever this is,” he’d said, gesturing to the growing army. “And I never wanted a part of it.”
I didn’t have an answer then. I might have one now, if King Julian came through.
My thoughts drifted to Austin again. The guilt was enough to break a man. I should have acted sooner. Should have seen his innocence and got him out…
“Well, I ain’t making the same mistake with these wolves,” I promised myself. “They deserve better than to be cannon fodder in a Dark witch’s power play.”
The highway stretched ahead, leading me toward Evermere and the Cimmerian brothers.
I’d deliver Arabesque’s package as ordered because something had to occasionally reach Seri to maintain my cover, but I’d also deliver my report.
Every detail about Arabesque’s plans, every scrap of intelligence that might help them prepare for whatever was coming.
My alliance with King Julian or the Cimmerians wasn’t about loyalty or some noble cause. I was a survivor first and foremost. Even survivors had lines they wouldn’t cross, though. Letting innocents suffer when I could prevent it? That was one of mine.
The bubble mailer on the passenger seat seemed to mock me.
Part of me wanted to pull over, burn the damn thing on the roadside, and be done with it, but that would be short-sighted.
My position as Arabesque’s enforcer was too valuable to jeopardize, especially now with kids counting on me to get them out.
It wasn’t redemption. I’d given up on that a long time ago, but it was something.
Something to counter all the things I couldn’t change, all the horrors I’d witnessed and sometimes facilitated in the name of survival.
So I’d continue my dangerous dance until the music finally stopped. Or until everything went up in flames.
Either way, I’d make damn sure those four wolves weren’t around when it happened.