31. Dagan
Dagan
Clara slept in this morning. She doesn’t have work today. Bram smiles when she comes in. Victor’s too engrossed in his computer to notice, but the rest of us look up.
They told us last night what they found at the library. Tragic.
“I wanted to discuss something with you all," Clara says and we all focus.
Even Victor stops typing though he doesn't look at Clara.
"I just… I keep getting these feelings, like I’m being watched.
Then there's the alpha scent when I first got here. And I keep seeing this black shadow—like an alpha, but not.” She hesitates.
“And I keep coming across the name Finian.”
She glances around. “I think—” She takes a deep breath. “I think he may be haunting this house.”
Victor’s face twists in disbelief. Despite what we’ve all experienced he’ll never admit to believing this. He’s a skeptic through and through. Jack looks stunned. But I remember the ghost in the mirror. Just as I’m about to sign something Bram speaks.
“Along with everything last night, I had an experience in the basement,” he says.
Before I can ask what kind of experience, Victor cuts in.
“Jesus Christ, are you insane? There’s no such thing as ghosts,” he snaps, shoving back from the table and grabbing his jacket. “There’s no such thing as boo geymen. Or Santa Claus.” He stops next to Clara, eyes sharp. “Or scent sensitivity.”
A growl rips from Bram and Jack, while I stand and flip him off.
Clara keeps her face composed, but I can tell it’s all a mask to hide what she’s really feeling from Victor. He stomps out, slamming the back door behind him.
“I’m going to have to do something about him,” Bram seethes.
“We should have done something long ago,” I sign in agreement.
“Please don’t.”
All our gazes swing to Clara, who just looks tired.
“He needs to be put in his place, Clara. He can’t talk to our omega that way,” Bram insists, stepping closer and curling a big hand around her waist.
“I know. I agree. But let me handle it—for now. Forcing him out, or excommunicating him, isn’t going to get us the ending we want. My omega hasn’t steered me wrong yet. She’s handling it.”
Bram hesitates, then nods. He may be the dominant alpha, but when it comes to pack dynamics, we’ll defer to her.
I love my brother, but I agree with Bram. This can’t go on.
"There's one more thing. The scent of the ghost. I think It might be scent sensitivity." We all sit in stunned silence for this.
“You think, or you know?” Bram asks. She’s spinning the edges of the cardigan draped over her shoulders above her dress.
“I know,” she nearly whispers. Her scent has gone sour with nerves and worry.
I cross the distance between us and scoop her up. The moment she’s in my arms, some of the tension in my chest eases too. Bram’s and Jack’s purrs rumble, filling the space around us like a shield. I kiss her slow and steady until her scent shifts back to sweet.
“It’s okay, Mine. We’ll figure it out,” I sign, and she nods.