Chapter 2 - Layla #2
Layla swallowed hard at the mention of her brother. Had he pointed Julian Rook in her direction? “Curiosity isn’t illegal.”
“No,” he agreed, giving her a sidelong glance, “but it can be inconvenient.”
She busied herself pulling down a heavy, dust-edged tome, Bestiary of the Northern Wilds, and laid it open on a nearby desk. “Here’s your best bet. Mentions a skirmish with hybrids on the northern side of the Chilkat mountains roughly two centuries ago.”
Julian leaned in to look, his shadow falling across the page. She could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of pine and earth. The smell reminded her of another alpha, another time. She swallowed down the memories, covertly leaning away from him.
“Interesting,” he murmured, tracing the text with one gloved finger. “That land is Leonid’s territory now.”
Layla kept her face carefully still. Leonid Volkhov. They weren’t supposed to talk about Dominic’s wayward cousin. She’d never forget that day. The blood. The rage on their faces as they circled one another.
They’d been as good as brothers. And now…
Julian straightened, eyes on her again. “You handle these archives yourself?”
“Yes.”
“No assistant?”
“Just Maddie, when she’s not making coffee.”
A ghost of something like amusement flickered in his expression. “I see.”
Layla clasped her hands together to keep them from fidgeting. “Is there…anything else you’re looking for?”
He watched her in silence for a moment. The stillness of it felt predatory, “Do you keep a private collection? Books you wouldn’t want falling into…human hands?”
Her heart dropped. “No.”
He tilted his head slightly, and for a terrible second, she thought he might call her bluff. Then he said, “Pity. You strike me as someone who appreciates a rare text.”
“I appreciate preservation,” she said, a bit too quickly. She coughed to clear her throat. “That is, I believe information should be free to all. Within reason, of course.”
Julian’s eyes were unreadable. “Within reason. Hm.” He closed the book gently and slid it back across the table. “This will do. For now.”
Layla tried to steady her breathing, “If you’d like, I can prepare a list of other references—”
“That won’t be necessary.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a small leather notebook, flipping it open. “You haven’t seen anything unusual, I take it? New patrons, perhaps? Strangers asking strange questions? Witchcraft?”
There it was. The word.
Layla’s throat felt too small for her voice. “No,” she said, “nothing like that.”
He studied her for a beat too long. Then he nodded. “Good.”
Her hands were trembling by the time he tucked the notebook away. She wanted him gone, wanted to return to her day. Pack business was no longer hers.
“Miss Hawthorne,” he said finally, inclining his head. “Thank you for your help.”
“Of course.”
He turned toward the door, the motion clean and deliberate. Just before he reached it, she found herself blurting, “Did Dominic send you?”
Julian paused. The silence between them stretched. Then, without looking back, he said, “Curiosity is a good thing, Miss Hawthorne. But be careful. Too much of it…well, we all know what happens to the cat.”
The door chimed as he left.
For a long time, Layla didn’t move.
The light from the windows seemed colder now, the air heavier. Every sound, the tick of the clock, the creak of the old building, felt altogether too sharp.
Then, finally, she exhaled, pressing a hand against her chest.
Maddie poked her head out from the kitchen. “He gone?”
Layla nodded. “Yeah.”
Maddie frowned, “He looked like a secret agent and a tax collector had a baby.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. “That’s…not inaccurate.”
“What did he want?”
“Just a book,” Layla said softly.
Maddie nodded, seemingly content with the answer, and Layla heaved a breath before throwing herself into the rest of the day.
But as much as she tried to exhaust herself moving piles of books, recataloguing the science section, labeling three boxes of new kids’ books, it was no use. Her thoughts kept drifting back and back again to Julian. And the male that commanded him.
If Dominic had even the slightest suspicion, the merest thought that she was hiding something from him…
The dread curled up in her stomach, making itself a tidy little home.
By the time the hand on the old clock inched to five, Layla was a nervous wreck. Her hands still trembled when she locked the door.
Maddie was wiping down the tables, humming tunelessly. “You okay? You’ve been weird all afternoon.”
Layla forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Fine,” Maddie echoed, unconvinced. “You sure that overgrown bat didn’t hex you or something?”
Layla laughed, too quickly, “He’s not a witch, Maddie. He’s part of the Volkhov Pack. Quite high ranking, actually.”
Maddie’s eyebrows lifted in understanding, concern flashing across her gaze. “And you said he wanted a book?”
“Pack business,” Layla said, “nasty business. That’s all.”
Her friend nodded slowly, “Nothing to do with you?”
Layla gave her what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Nothing to do with me. Now go on, go home, I’ll finish up here.”
Maddie hesitated, then shrugged, pulling on her coat. “Alright. But if he comes back, call me before you let him in. Or, you know, before you die of whatever ominous curse he puts on you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Layla said with a small smile. The idea of her very human friend facing down an alpha like Julian was amusing, no matter her mood. Maddie would face him without fear. Probably try to smack him across the snout with a spatula.
When Maddie was gone and the door locked behind her, the shop was utterly still. The last rays of daylight bled gold through the windows, fading into blue. Shadows stretched between the shelves, deepening, softening.
Layla lingered behind the counter a moment longer, watching the light die. Then she turned toward the far corner.
The rug looked ordinary. Threadbare, patterned with curling leaves and faint wolf motifs, just another piece of salvaged decor. She crossed to it, kneeling on the floor, fingers slipping beneath the edge to find the small notch in the wood.
The panel lifted with a muted creak. Cold air rose from the narrow staircase below.
Layla hesitated only a moment before descending.
The basement was small and low-ceilinged, its stone walls older than the town above.
Once, it had stored old archives and damp boxes of records.
Now, it was something else entirely. Candles burned in shallow dishes, throwing pale light across the cramped space.
Books and notes lay stacked on a central table, parchment and leather, some cracked, some newer, all smelling faintly of dust and iron.
Layla exhaled, brushing her hands free of dust.
Most of the texts had been found slowly over the years. A traveler hiking the mountains, a parcel slipped through sympathetic hands, one or two covertly bought in the old market in Juneau when she’d been desperate enough to risk it.
Each had cost her more than she liked to admit.
Her gaze moved to the wall, where pages of notes were pinned with rough string; diagrams, runes, fragments of translation.
A lifetime of trying to solve a puzzle that refused to yield.
Sure, she had matured. Her magic had grown stronger within her.
She could command ten-foot fires now, turn a barren garden to full bloom, lift hundred-pound weights with her mind.
Not that she ever did any of those things. That would be far too conspicuous.
The one big spell she did allow herself to practise, the one bit of magic she did risk her life indulging, was this one.
Her wolf.
She had never shifted.
Both her parents were shifters. Her grandparents, too. Whatever witchcraft existed in her blood was generations away.
She was a shifter. She was a shifter.
The answer had to be here, somewhere in the mess of grimoires and notes and research. She was twenty-four, and no closer to shifting than when she’d been sixteen, casting spells in the darkness of her childhood bedroom, her brother the literal wolf at the door.
She pushed away all thoughts of Julian Rook as she settled herself before her altar. If he had known what she was, what she was doing…
Well. She would most likely be dead by now.
And as long as she had breath in her lungs, she would never stop trying. Never give up.
Her wolf was inside her. She just had to find it.