Chapter 9 – Regina #2
“What a charming welcome committee.” His voice is silk and honey. “I feel so important.”
His gaze finally lands on me.
“And you must be the famous siphon.” He crosses the distance between us in three fluid steps, taking my hand before I can react and pressing his lips to my knuckles. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
His voice is smooth as sin, but it’s not just the low, sultry intonations. I recognize the signature of magic within it. The slight vibration that lingers long after the soundwaves themselves have gone still.
I guess it makes sense. He is a siren, after all.
A chorus of snarls echoes around the room when he touches my hand. If I didn’t know better, I’d think one of them came from Villeneuve, but his face is utterly impassive.
“Have you?” My voice comes out flat as I withdraw my hand before the alphas can tear into him like a pack of wild dogs.
“All good things.” Vyse’s smile shows too many teeth. They’re… sharp. Holy shit. I knew sirens were carnivores, but I’ve never actually seen one in person.
Sean is still growling.
Vyse’s attention shifts to him with renewed interest. “Oh, hello again, farm boy. I see you’ve gotten a new accessory since our last meeting. Very butch.”
“Huh?” Sean asks obliviously.
Vyse ignores him, turning to Micah and Rowan. “My goodness, all of you are so… giant,” he muses, walking around them. He raises a hand to his head, then holds it out as if to compare. “I’m six-three. That makes you what, six… five?”
“Six,” Rowan says warily.
“Micah’s the little guy out of the bunch,” Sean says, putting an arm on his shoulder.
“I’m six four, that’s fucking huge!” Micah snaps. “Why the fuck are we even talking about this, anyway?”
“Guess it’s true what they say about wolves,” Vyse muses.
“Wait, what do they say about us?” Micah asks innocently.
Vyse ignores him and his gaze returns to me. Those unnaturally blue eyes sharpen. “How interesting. You’re wearing a glamour.”
I go cold.
“Most witches can’t even see glamours,” I manage.
“I’m not a witch.” He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. “What are you hiding under there, I wonder? Something fascinating, I suspect. Glamours that good always are.”
Okay, so apparently, sirens can see magic. Or at least this one can. Good to know.
Villeneuve steps between us before the others can. The movement is smooth, but unmistakably deliberate. “What did you come for, Vyse?”
The siren’s attention shifts to him. Something unspoken passes between them before Vyse sighs dramatically.
“Straight to business. You never were any fun, Elias.”
“Elias,” Sean echoes with a strangled snort. “I forget that’s your name.”
Villeneuve pins him with a look that could freeze the sun. “I trust since you’re here, you’ve found something worth sharing.”
“My research has hit a dead end,” the siren says with a dismissive wave. “I need to see the bite victim in person.”
The wolves growl in unison. Even Rowan, who’s usually the calm one.
I look at Villeneuve. He meets my gaze, and I read the deference there. Your call.
The words tickle inside my mind. With the wolves, psychic communication feels comfortable already, familiar. Villeneuve’s voice is a register my thoughts haven’t quite learned to accommodate, but it’s not unpleasant exactly, just… new.
I don’t trust Vyse. Not even a little. But I need to know if he can actually help or if he’s just playing games.
“Fine,” I say with a nod. “Show him.”
Vyse’s smile widens. “Wonderful. Lead the way.”
The room where Killian lies is exactly as I left it this morning. Stone table, sigils carved into every surface, the faint blue glow of the stasis field making his black fur shimmer like he’s underwater.
He’s still in wolf form. Still fighting something I can’t see or touch.
Vyse circles the table slowly, his head tilted at an angle that shouldn’t be comfortable. His eyes have gone distant and unfocused, like he’s seeing something the rest of us can’t. They glow slightly, but only in certain light.
“Impressive work,” he murmurs. “Multiple stasis fields, layered wards, energy dampeners... someone’s been thorough.”
More confirmation that Villeneuve is as much of a threat magically as he is in his dragon form. Thankfully we have him on our side.
For now.
“Can you help him or not?” Micah’s voice is tight with impatience.
Vyse ignores him. He extends one hand toward Killian, fingers spread, and makes a strange plucking motion in the air. Like he’s tugging at invisible strings.
“The pack bonds are strong,” he observes. “Four distinct connections, all feeding energy into the same central point.” His fingers move again, and his expression sharpens as his gaze lands on me, like he’s tracing the path of those invisible strings. “Siphons really are something special.”
“Of course,” he continues, “one might say it’s a waste. A siphon being bonded to four creatures with no inherent magic of their own.”
“You’re a waste,” Micah mutters, not quite under his breath.
Rowan elbows him, but I can tell he agrees.
Vyse ignores them, his long, elegant fingers plucking at something else in the air.
And then he stops.
His hand hovers in the air, fingers wrapped around something I can’t see. His eyes track the invisible thread from where it connects from me to—
Villeneuve.
Vyse’s smile goes sharp. He fucking knows.
“Oh,” he says softly. “What’s this?”
The tension in the room ratchets up a notch. I feel the wolves’ confusion through the bond, their attention shifting between Vyse and Villeneuve, as if trying to understand what just happened.
Vyse’s eyes meet mine. The question is clear. Do they know?
I give the tiniest shake of my head, silently begging him not to be the one who outs that secret. Not here, not right now.
His smile widens. “Interesting,” he says, and lets the invisible thread drop. “Very interesting.”
“The bite,” Villeneuve says. His voice is steady, but I can hear the warning underneath it. “Can you help with it or not?”
Vyse moves on as if nothing happened. He circles back to Killian’s shoulder, where the wound is still visible beneath the stasis field. Dark and angry, even frozen in time.
“This is not a normal werewolf bite,” he says finally. “If there can be such a thing. You’re right, it has necromantic energy attached to it.”
“Meaning what?” Rowan asks.
“Meaning the bite carries more than just the werewolf virus. It carries dark magic. Forbidden magic.” Vyse straightens, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves. “Fortunately, all forms of magic leave a fingerprint. Each practitioner has their own. It’s how the Council traces crimes to culprits.”
“So you can trace it?” I ask hopefully.
“Not from this alone.” He sounds almost disappointed.
“This necromancer was clever. Knew how to cover his or her tracks. There are no obvious prints, and the body of the werewolf is—” He glances at Villeneuve.
“—thoroughly incinerated. But if I encounter a similar energy signature in the field, I’ll be able to match it then. ”
Rowan frowns. “What will that do? If you find the necromancer who raised the wolf, can you help Killian?”
Vyse turns to face him, and his expression grows serious. “Do you know why forbidden magic is forbidden?”
“Cuz… it’s bad?” Sean offers.
Vyse laughs. “Not quite, farm boy.”
“Because it can’t be undone,” I say quietly. “Not by anyone other than the caster.”
Vyse’s attention snaps to me. Surprise flickers across his features before he smooths it away. “Clever girl. A-plus on the pop quiz.”
He turns back to the group, his voice taking on a lecturing tone.
“It’s not merely the distasteful act of raising the dead and all the ethical and practical conundrums that spawn from it that makes necromancy illegal.
It’s the fact that only a necromancer can reverse his magic and free the affected soul from its bonds.
Either willingly, or in death. Agents of the Council are powerless to break such curses, including yours truly. ”
“And reanimated beings are notoriously difficult to kill,” Villeneuve adds somberly.
“Unless you happen to be a dragon, of course.” Vyse’s smile is sharp. “Lucky for us.”
Villeneuve might have saved this guy’s ass, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Vyse hates him.
The question is…why?
Micah’s brow furrows. “But who killed the werewolf in the first place? Before it was reanimated, I mean.”
“Dude, my brain hurts,” Sean groans, gripping his head.
“Now that is an interesting question.” Vyse moves toward the door.
“One I’d very much like to know the answer to myself.
But if we find the necromancer, we’ll probably find that out too.
And since the witch who hired him is presently on the Council’s most wanted list, we’re going to have to go the old-fashioned route. ”
“Wait,” I call to him before he can reach the door. “Is there anything we can do for Killian in the meantime?”
Vyse pauses at the threshold. “No. Keep him stable. I’ll be in touch.”
And then he’s gone, sweeping down the hallway with Villeneuve following to show him out. Or in the dragon’s words, “to make sure he fucking leaves.”
The room goes quiet.
“Dick,” Micah finally mutters.
“Massive dick,” Sean agrees.
Rowan is staring at the doorway with an expression I can’t read. “Do you think we can trust him?” he asks quietly.
“Vyse?” I shake my head. “Not even a little. But he’s our best option right now.”
“I meant Villeneuve.”
I purse my lips, thinking about the bond I still haven’t told them about. The thing that could shatter the tentative truce between wolves and dragon, and then we’ll never find a cure for Killian’s transformation.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But right now, we don’t have much of a choice.”