Chapter 21
Twenty-One
IZZY
My mind spins, struggling to understand everything I just learned.
The witches are preparing for war.
With the Hunters.
With the shifters.
With the vampires.
Fear grips my throat in an impenetrable chokehold, and I’m suddenly desperate to speak with my mates. I know what Hale told me, but I need to know for certain that they’re okay. That they’re alive. That they haven’t been killed or hurt or kidnapped.
And what did Dyson mean, when he alluded to a battle between the witches and the shifters? When did that happen?
Questions spin around and around in my mind, never slowing long enough for me to grab a hold of one. I wouldn’t even know what to ask if I had the chance.
After reluctantly separating from Ansel after dinner, I return to my room, dig Soraya’s book out of my backpack, and flip to the page I left off on.
Golems.
My heart hammers in my chest as I stare at the crude illustration of a clay man with vacant eyes and missing teeth. That isn’t what Jake looks like at all. My foster brother is warm and vibrant and so incredibly real.
I shift my pillows against the headboard and settle against them to read.
Golems are strange creatures. Some historians believe they are merely extensions of a witch’s magic, while others claim they are a sentient species who deserve to be treated as such.
Golems are clay sculptures who have been imbued with magic, granting the creature false memories and emotions. The magic in a golem has often been compared to a battery that needs to be replaced over time. If the battery fails, the golem will turn to dust.
Due to the magic that powers these creatures, the majority of golems can age and bleed like any human. It is only when the golem becomes self-aware of its existence that a golem will be gifted true immortality. The golem will stop aging and will be indestructible.
I read that section multiple times, my eyes widening in shock.
I remember when I first met Jake and accidentally nicked him with my blade. He bled. Yet, after Hale and Gerry confessed the truth to him, he tried to cut himself and wasn’t able to bleed.
Is it because he was aware of his identity?
Does this mean he won’t age anymore? That he’ll be trapped in the body of an eighteen-year-old until the end of time?
I doubt Hale and Gerry would’ve told Jake the truth if they were aware of that fact.
I may be angry at the two of them for keeping so many secrets from us, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they love their foster children.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I continue reading.
Golems, for the most part, are impervious to harm. There are only two ways that a golem can permanently be dispatched.
One is if the magic that powers the golem fails.
This can happen in one of two ways—either time takes its course and the magic fades, or the witch or warlock who created the golem passes on.
Often, this can be remedied by the witch’s or warlock’s descendants taking over the spell and imbuing the clay creature with magic.
Some golems have been known to serve their masters faithfully for hundreds of years, with generation after generation powering the creature.
Masters? What the fuck type of backwater shit is this?
The only other known way to kill a golem is fire. A golem can heal from just about anything, though there have been no cases of them surviving a fire attack.
Okay, so I just need to warn Jake to never play with matches. Easy.
But what about the witch or warlock who created him in the first place? Who was it? If that magic fails…
I can’t think like that. I won’t allow it to happen.
I slam the book shut before I can read further. Every chapter I read only solidifies my terror. I’ve somehow found myself in an immensely dangerous world, full of monsters and beasts that I thought only existed in legend. And to know that the people I love are smack dab in the middle of it all?
It’s a lot to take in.
Placing the book on the bedside table, I settle beneath the covers.
For a moment, I just lie there, my eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling. Everything that happened today plays on a continuous loop in my head.
My magic.
Soraya’s help.
The Trinity’s announcement during dinner.
I’m unsure if my brain will ever shut off.
Yet I feel my thoughts begin to slow, and the quiet of the room wraps around me like a familiar embrace.
I close my eyes, allowing my body to sink deeper into the mattress, surrendering to the pull of sleep.
The world outside fades away, and all that remains is the softness of the night, the warmth of the blankets, and the steady rhythm of my breath as I slip into sleep.
But when I open my eyes, I’m somewhere else.
It’s dark—darker than anything I’ve ever known, like the shadows themselves have weight. I can’t see much, but my eyes adjust, and in the distance, barely visible through the blackness, I spot something.
A cage.
What the fuck?
It stands alone, like a thing abandoned, its cold iron bars standing stiff and unyielding.
My heart stirs with a mix of curiosity and something else—something heavier, like fear, but I can’t explain why.
I take a step forward, my feet soundless against the ground, but the cage doesn’t get any closer.
The air is thick, oppressive, as if the very atmosphere is holding me back.
What is this place? Why am I here?
Another step, and I feel the pressure grow stronger, pushing against me, but I keep moving. The cage calls to me, but I’m not sure if I want to answer it.
Then I notice movement in the far corner of the cage, and I realize there’s someone there.
“Hello?” I ask, hating how loud my voice sounds.
I wince, waiting for a monster to materialize out of the darkness and attack, but there’s nothing.
The figure in the cage stirs, and then I hear a soft, tentative, “Izzy?”
“Christian?” I quicken my pace until I’m directly before the cage, and I wrap my hands around the metal bars.
And there, huddled in a ball, is Christian Montgomery.
His dark hair is longer, brushing his ears, and he appears paler and thinner than before.
Dark smudges underline his eyes, and his cheeks are hollow.
He wears the exact same outfit he wore when I last saw him—a dark-blue flannel shirt over a gray tank top and jeans—but the material is worn and stained, riddled here and there with holes.
Scruff covers his jawline, giving him a wild, disheveled look.
“Holy shit.” Christian blinks at me. “I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”
What a strange dream.
I ache to reach through the bars and touch him, caress his face, but he remains just out of reach.
“The last time I saw you, your wolf had taken over,” I murmur, gawking at this dream version of Christian. “Are you…?”
“The bastard trapped me in here.” Christian gives an undignified snort and throws his head back against the bars. “But at least I’m crazy enough to finally hallucinate you. I missed you so damn much, Izzy.”
My heart skips a beat at his confession, but I force myself to breathe. Of course my subconscious would have him saying that to me. It’s what I’ve been wanting for weeks now.
The last time I saw him, he was completely consumed by his wolf—feral, out of control, a beast trapped in a human body.
But this man in front of me, this man with the gaunt face and wild eyes, is Christian.
He shuffles forward on his knees until he grips the bars in front of me. “Izzy.” His voice is ragged, and a tremor reverberates through him. “I-I don’t know how to escape. My wolf trapped me here. I can’t get out.”
His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and my breath catches.
I shake my head and grip the bars of the cage, my hands directly above his own. “This isn't real, is it? You’re not real. You’re just a dream.”
His pinkie, caked in mud, brushes against my own, and lightning strikes through my body.
“Maybe my mind conjured you because it knows this is the end. I don’t know how much longer I can fight.” He licks his unbearably chapped lips. “I’m so scared, Izzy. There’s only darkness here. Darkness and this cage.”
I know this is a dream, but I can’t stand to see the desperation in Christian’s gaze. His raw, broken voice stabs at my soul like a flaming blade, and all I want to do is reassure him.
“Fight,” I whisper, hooking my pinkie around his. “You need to fight, Christian. You’ve always been strong enough. You can do this.”
He lets out a sound—half laugh, half sob—and he grips my hands so abruptly that I jump.
“I am fighting, Izzy. I’ve been fighting for what feels like years. I can’t stop it. I can’t stop him.” His breath comes in ragged gasps, and desperation pours off of him in almost palpable waves.
I don’t know what to say, what to do. My mind is still reeling from the impossible reality before me, but I don't want to lose him—not like this. Never like this.
Even if it is only a dream.
“Then fight harder. Please.” The words slip from me before I even realize it, raw and pleading. “You can do this. You have to do this.”
He stares at me, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to find something—anything—that will make this nightmare stop.
I feel the weight of his gaze like a clump of concrete on my chest, cutting off my air supply, but I force myself to suck in a deep breath.
I can be his strength for him. I will be his strength for him.
“I know you,” I continue, my voice steadier than I feel. “You can beat this.”
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing, jagged and uneven. His wild eyes continually scan my face, like he’s searching for a lifeline to grab a hold of. I want to be that for him, at least for now, until he’s capable of floating on his own.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispers, resting his forehead against the bars.
I shuffle even closer until his breath breezes over my face with each trembling exhale.
“I won’t leave you, Christian. I won’t.” I tighten my hand around his.
His gaze flicks to my lips, and the raw yearning in his eyes takes my breath away. He leans in even closer—
A howl cuts through the silence.
Christian backs away from me as if he’s been burned. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“My wolf.” Christian stares up at me with unbridled fear shining in his eyes. “You need to run, Izzy. You need to hide.”
“Your wolf won’t hurt me, Christian,” I whisper, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince—me or him.
“We don’t know that.” Christian begins to tremble as he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “You need to go, Izzy.”
“Christian…”
I won’t leave him here. This may be nothing but a dream—a nightmare—but I know there’s no way in hell I can leave him behind.
Immediately, I begin to study the perimeter of the cage, searching for any locks. There must be a door somewhere, right?
“Izzy.” Christian’s voice is a broken murmur that slices off pieces of skin.
And then I feel it.
A pair of eyes.
Watching me.
Studying me.
Hunting me.
Slowly, my heart hammering in my chest, I turn to stare into the darkness, squinting.
The only light is from whatever magic illuminates the cage, so it takes me a moment to see properly. To see him properly.
The wolf watches me—silent, still, his amber eyes locked onto mine with an unsettling intelligence. His ears prick forward, and his nostrils flare, as if inhaling my scent, weighing my presence in this dark landscape.
Even from this distance, I can feel the wildness of the creature, the ferality, the quiet power in his lean, muscled frame. It’s not fear I feel, though. Not exactly.
More like an awareness, a sharp, electric tension that runs along my spine.
The wolf doesn’t move closer, nor does he retreat. He simply watches, studying me with unreadable patience, as if trying to decide what I am to him. A threat? Prey? Something else entirely?
I exhale slowly, and for a moment, it feels as if time itself has paused, the space between us charged with something ancient and wordless.
The creature cants his head to the side.
“Mate.”
I jump at the rich baritone in my head.
What the fuck?
Did the wolf just…speak to me?
Telepathically?
“Izzy?” Christian whispers.
Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the wolf turns. With effortless grace, it slips back into the darkness, leaving only the ghost of its gaze lingering in my mind.
“Izzy?” Christian repeats.
“Is that the wolf that trapped you here?” I ask, balling my hands into fists.
“Izzy, don’t—”
But I pay his warning no heed as I take off in the direction of the wolf, the darkness enveloping me instantly. I’ll find the damn wolf and demand he free Christian. I won’t take no for an answer.
Each step is purposeful as I wade farther and farther into the darkness.
Where the fuck did the little shit go?
It’s so dark. Too dark. I can’t even see my hands in front of my face, let alone a wolf with fur as black as pitch.
Just one step at a time, Izzy. One step at a time.
One step—
The wolf bounds in front of me, comes to a stop, and rests on his hind legs. Once again, he tilts his head to the side, regarding me curiously. I open my mouth, but before I can get a word out, the world around me shimmers and then crumbles.
A mournful howl is the last thing I hear as I jerk upright in bed, back in my dorm at the covenstead. Sweat plasters my golden curls to my head, and the blankets are tangled around my legs.
What the fuck just happened?
What type of dream was that?
My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I force myself to lie back down, to stare up at the ceiling.
Something about that dream…
Well…
Is it strange to say it didn’t feel like a dream? The desperation in Christian’s eyes, the resignation, tugs at something deep within me.
Is it possible that I somehow…visited Christian’s mind? No. That’s insane, isn’t it?
Though can anything be any more insane than what I’ve already had to deal with?
I settle back into bed, but sleep doesn’t claim me. Not this time. Instead, I toss and turn and think of a haunted man with piercing blue eyes and the wolf who locked him away.