16. Through the Veil
Through the Veil
Eliza
T he silence changed from awkward to slightly lighter and less uncomfortable when they arrived at the compound. Being an only child, Eliza had never had a problem with lengthy silences, but when it came between her and Malcolm, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be the first to talk.
After the twenty-minute drive, she was nearly ready to ask something stupid about his appearance to get him to say anything, but she held back.
Now, as she hopped down from the truck and waited for him. She wondered if he was offended. Then she backtracked and called herself an idiot, of course, he was feeling some type of way. She’d basically thrown herself at him and then said, wait, I’m not ready.
If she weren’t currently in front of people, she’d give herself one good facepalm.
She was all over the place mentally; she needed to get herself together. How many times would she run in a circle with her thoughts? Malcolm was off limits. Period.
The way his thighs looked in the jeans he was wearing didn’t matter. Nor did the way he pushed his hair back, which made her want to slap his hands away and do the same thing.
She breathed deeply through her nose as she walked up the steps. The last time she’d been this hot for a guy had been in her first year of college. The guys looked particularly good then, all bright-eyed and smart.
“Eliza.” She blinked, realizing she was being stared at. “Did you hear what I said?”
She glanced from Malcolm to Agun before she gave a short shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I kind of started day dreaming,” she chided herself; she hadn’t even realized she was now inside the main building.
The corners of his mouth kicked up. Dammit, she’d just told herself not to notice how good he looked. There were rules, and her rule was that she was going to gather her shitty hormones and lock them away. “I was asking if the blue flame you had still burned.”
She opened her right hand, and the bright blue light flared there as ropes of words circled it. “Do you have the map?”
“Right over here,” Agun said, directing them to the map on the table. It showed the McLaren land and the border with the other packs. He smoothed his hands over the map and pointed to the other side. “And here are the human cities who are also within and outside our borders.”
Hearing this, Malcolm glanced at Eliza. “Can you do it?’
She nodded, walking over to Agun's side. “This will show the past of the spell link, but that’s it. Not where the person is currently,” she said before lifting the blue fire in her hands to her lips. She whispered her orders, too, before pursing her lips and blowing.
The fire sputtered in her hand before it turned into a dark purple and flared, shooting from her hands. It hovered over the map before it cracked into two and then three, and with a bright flash that caused all standing around to jerk their hands up, it fell to the map.
Eliza slowly lowered her fingers taking in where the flames fell. As the bright light faded back to the soft blue, she leaned down. Her brow creased and pointed to where the flame remained magenta. “This is the place of the crime scene, the source.” She drew her finger to a spot on the map. “It looks like they came from here.” She read the name, “Clarksville.” She drew her finger from the city to the Veil wall. “And this must be where they last transported to.”
Malcolm looked from the Map to Agun. “It was a smooth transport. They opened it over the kids, moved them to the human world, and seamlessly moved them again. They were prepared,” Malcolm said, brushing his chin as his expression turned thoughtful. “No one would have looked too hard in Clarksville, so even if we tracked them by scent, it would stop there.”
“But to know exactly where they were and what time they’d be there…” Agun trailed off.
“Someone would have had to tell them when and where to open the transport spell,” Eliza finished, “Otherwise, the castor couldn’t have known that exact spot had a hole in the barrier.”
“We’re going to need to speak with the people who did the barrier,” Malcolm said aloud. He looked to Agun. “ Do you know who it was?”
Agun nodded. “They’re a crew of warlocks in the city; they do much of the barrier work for Packs here.” Then he clicked his tongue. “But they’re not easy to deal with. And…” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve missed the open hours.”
“Then we’ll go see them tomorrow,” Malcolm said, settling his hands on his hips before he grinned. “And they don’t need to be easy to deal with; they just need to answer my questions.”
They spent the rest of the time discussing their plan of action. Eliza left them to it; she needed to put some space between herself and Malcolm before she did something she would regret.
The amount of times she’d found herself just looking at him, like he was the most fascinating thing on the planet, was concerning. She felt like a teenager with a crush.
Dream
Hands were touching her. They were rough and greedy as they pressed into her skin. She couldn’t describe the sensation of being coveted so obviously; her body naturally became pliant under the aggressive touches. Mentally, she pleaded for the person to touch her lower.
The sound of the others breathing was heavy only interrupted only by animalistic growls.
With little remorse, she was kneaded and teased until her lips parted in a loud moan. Need burned her from the inside out as she reached for the other, her back being marred by what felt like grass beneath her.
How long had it been since she’d been touched without it leading to pain?
Her dream lover left her nowhere to hide, his onslaught ceaseless until she felt herself completely filled with an intense yearning, her body fully awakened to the possibility of fulfilling an ancient dance. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to be completely enveloped by another.
The prick of what felt like needles against her sides barely registered, it was only when they started to rake down that she could leave some of the foggy lust to take in curved claws viciously cutting into her skin.
Another pleasure-filled gasp escaped her lips; her eyes opened, and she stared into the round moon above as masculine moans filled her mind.
Her thighs were roughly opened, the merciless shadow positioned himself boldly between them. The large, broad-shouldered figure now hovered over her blocking out the moon above. Dizzy from the barrage of sensation she felt her senses once again being swept away.
In an effort to center herself in the storm of desire, she lifted her arms to touch him, but her brutish lover grabbed her wrist and pinned them down with fearsome dominance. Shaken, she tried to lift her hips to free herself. The ache between her legs grew as she fought against her bounds to touch him. The shadow and light played at his figure, hiding his face but revealing his muscular physique.
She felt like a cat in heat; she wanted him to mount and fuck her until she couldn’t breathe.
The pounding of heart filled her ears the minute she felt the tip of his dick press against her entrance. Eyes rolled back as she bit her lip. Mentally begging over and over, for him to thrust into her with heartless command.
“Please?” Tears spilled from her eyes as she pleaded.
“Please,” he repeated as he bent down, and pressed his lips to the spot right above her shoulder. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you beg?”
She would beg and beg till he put her out of her misery.
“Please,” she whispered again as he softly kissed her collarbone. “I need you.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, placing a large hand on her stomach. “Once I take you, it will never end. I will take you, hard,” he thrust playfully against her ache, “long,” she released a cry of need, “and forever. I’ll even knot you, so that I can keep all my cum inside you. I’ll breed you over and over until your stomach swells. Tell me you want me to fuck you until you’re round with my child. Answer me?”
His voice turned cruel, “Tell me you’d let me rip you apart, and put you back to together again, Eliza.”
Eliza eyes popped open and the face that stared down at her was no longer her shadow lover but Phen.
With a scream Eliza nearly came off the bed, her body pulsing with both need and terror. She looked to the side of the bed where Malcolm usually slept, and he wasn’t there.
She placed a hand against her chest as she breathed heavily. Her skin was flushed and sweat-coated; she swallowed, trying to catch her bearings. She’d never experienced such a vivid dream. Her nipples were sensitive, and her collarbone still tingled from where her dream male had placed his kisses. While she still felt the bone deep chill of seeing Phen again.
“What was that?” she asked no one.
Gripping her covers, she jerked them aside, quickly got out of bed, and walked into the bathroom.
She needed to take a shower to cool herself down.
Malcolm
Malcolm's fist slammed into the face of the cheeky warlock; he shook his hand as he straightened.
“I only asked you one question,” he looked around the junkyard they’d brought him to. The Warlock’s business front was a junkyard. He’d thought he’d have little trouble, especially when the person at the gate was friendly enough to allow him to drive through.
Agun had come with him along with his friend Derrick. Regarding first impressions, he’d thought Agun had been over-exaggerating when he said they could be difficult. But the minute he’d hopped out of the truck, everything had gone left.
“You damn wolves think you run everything,” One of the Warlocks said, his staff made of dirt hitting his palm solidly. “Who do you think you are to come here and interrogate us?” He yelled before sending a boulder their way.
“Malcolm,” He heard Agun call in alarm.
He could only sigh; he’d wanted to this the easy way. His primary role in the Jackals wasn’t to be showy and catch everyone’s attention like the others. His primary purpose was to be the one everyone paid the littlest attention to. He curled his fingers till they cracked, and drawing his arm back, he made a fist. With one solid step forward, he slammed it into the boulder. The dirt ball broke apart as if it were made of mud.
With that done, he brushed the dirt from his shoulder, “I don’t know about you all, but I’m tired of playing around.” He turned to the trembling warlock, “You’re hiding something. Otherwise, you’d have thought twice about attacking me.” He growled, his canines lengthening and his eyes turning a feral yellow. He stepped forward.
“Wait—stay away,” the warlock screamed, throwing everything he could at Malcolm, who swatted away his attempts at attack. “No,” with a shriek, he turned to run, only for the back of his greaser jumpsuit to be grabbed. The man was over six feet tall and weighed a little over 200 pounds, but Malcolm picked him up like he was nothing.
Malcolm left the others to Agun and Derrick, “Now,” he said, licking his bottom lip as he glared up at the warlock, “tell me what you know about the holes in the Ani-barrier Magic on the McLaren land.” He abruptly let the male go. The warlock hit the ground hard; Malcolm crouched down and grabbed him by the throat, “And make sure you don’t lie,” he sneered, narrowing his eyes, “I can’t be blamed if I tear your throat out after it.”
The warlock shivered before he quickly nodded. “I tell you everything, anything you want to know.”
Rising, Malcolm's expression softened as his eyes turned green once more. “Good to hear.”
Eliza
She still couldn’t shake that dream a few hours later. She’d done her best to avoid the man who’d been the subject; she had offered her help to everyone who worked on the land. Now she was sitting in the kitchen peeling potatoes military style
Her hands worked mindlessly as she peeled the skin from the lumpy things, her eyes down. She tried not to think about her dream and what it meant. Funny enough, the goddess inside her head had remained suspiciously quiet since she’d asked her about it. The woman picked and chose when she opened her mouth.
Though she had to be fair, it took a lot of energy for the goddess to speak and move outside her. The woman had been pushing herself a lot lately, which was why the book of spells was so important to her. She could strengthen the connection between Eliza and herself or break it in a way that would be safe for them.
As the goddess described, it was like they’d been slapped together, and luckily, the two of them were compatible. Otherwise, it could have been a disaster.
And Eliza had seen the witches who’d been failures, there had been three types of people in that hell. Shifters were being used as test subjects for some form of mind control. Most shifters followed a tight set of rules, and it took a lot to get them to act outside of their laws; she’d seen shifters tear a defenseless woman apart only to realize what they’d done and attempt to tear their own throat out.
As for the witches, they fell into one or two categories. A talented witch was often going to become a mindless slave to be used. If you were like her, a dub witch, you would either have your magic veins stretched until you became mad or your body deformed until you were unrecognizable.
Smelling blood she stopped cutting; only then did she notice the cut on her hand.
“Eliza,” She looked up only to stare into the cook's shocked gaze. “Dearie, your hand.”
She looked back down and pulled her hand back quickly, standing just as the cook approached her. “I'm sorry. Let me wash my hand.”
“Are you okay, love,” the cook's voice held soft worry. “Here, let me get a bandage.”
Eliza thanked her as she dropped the knife into the sink and turned on the water. She mentally prayed she hadn’t bled into the bucket of potatoes; that would mean she’d basically ruined dinner for these people.
She watched her blood wash away. She shouldn’t let herself get swallowed by the past; if she did, she wouldn’t be able to move forward. She’d be too busy holding on to the last strings of her sanity. She hadn’t been lying when she told Malcolm she enjoyed the work she was doing. Keeping herself busy prevented her from losing an important part of herself.
During the days she’d sat in the cell, she’d slowly lost that part of herself that cared when someone was hurt in front of her. She’d barely noticed the loss of empathy and sympathy from her own emotions, it had been chiseled away bit-by-bit by the screams that filled the hallowed halls of her hell.
Numbly, she’d watch people beg for their lives, but demons didn’t have mercy for others.
Kindness was nothing more than an illusion; she herself had murdered innocent’ people who’d thought that not fighting would keep them alive.
She reached up, turning the water off.
“Here you go, darling.” Turning around, she took the hand towel from the cook. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay, it happens.” The cook chuckled, “My husband calls me a ditz with the number of times I’ve come home with a burn here and cut there. It’s the hazard of working in the kitchen.”
Eliza offered her a tight smile. Once her hands were dry, she took the bandage that the woman held out with her other hand.
“It was lucky we still had a box; we werewolves heal pretty fast, but some of the children get scrapes and scratches that take a bit longer than normal.”
“Eliza?” She caught sight of Agun in the doorway, “Malcolm sent me for you.”
She nodded, “One second.” She turned to the cook, “Thank you, again.”
“No problem, dearie, you’ve been a big help. Now hurry along; your man is calling for you.”
She quickly ran out of the kitchen and followed Agun. “When did you guys get back?”
“Not too long ago,” he glanced down at her hand. “Do all witches have such markings?’
Eliza eyes flickered with worry, as her brow creased at his question. She looked down at her hand and saw that despite her disguise spell, some of the lettering had appeared on her brown skin. Immediately, she covered it up. Agun’s question made her feel self-conscious. When she was with Malcolm, she never thought of it, as he tended to look at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world.
She cleared her throat, lifting her chin. She didn’t have time for such negative thoughts; if she had time to feel bad for herself, she could find them damn books and get out of Malcolm’s hair. “No, they don’t all have this.”
“Ah,” he said, glancing at her once more, “then do they all at least look as pretty as you?’
She looked at him in shock, “pretty?”
“Aye—I’ve not found my mate among our people. A Ceilidh gives us wolves such chances, but that is only through the full moon. The time of the mating fever, but I wonder if my mate could even be a pretty witch.” He gave her a bashful look.
Eliza couldn’t help smiling at him, “Well, it never hurts to visit other parts of the veil to find out.”
Together they continued on their way in silence.
As they drew closer, she could hear loud masculine voices. Curiosity, she picked up her speed, only to enter the main hall filled with men of all ages, most of whom wore expressions of determination.
Since this was her first time seeing so many McLaren man in one place, Eliza couldn’t help but ask, “What’s happening?”
“You don’t know?” Agun asked, seeming surprised she was out of the loop.
She rolled her eyes, “If I knew anything, would I have asked?”
Embarrassed, Agun cleared his throat and continued, “Well, the elders finally approved of Malcolm to fight for the right to be Alpha. So, they are starting sign-ups.”
“Excuse me?” Eliza said, her eyes wide with shock. She noticed a certain male who topped the others in height. His figure was impressive, as he swung up an axe and set it on the table. He spoke to a man who wore glasses and was taking down names. As they cut through the crowd, she couldn’t help but ask, “Is he going to fight all of them?”
“No, he’s going to fight the one who beats the others,” Agun said, his voice holding a bit of pride. That took Eliza by surprise.
“You think he can win,” she asked, thoughtfully.
“Yeah, especially after seeing him in action when we went to see the warlocks,” Agun said, his expression holding an almost heart-stopping optimism. “When he defeated Damon a few years back. Not many in the pack were surprised; it sucked that he wasn’t able to participate in the fight then. Damon was a fucking bastard.”
“That’s what I have heard,” Eliza said as they left the loud mess hall and entered a long hallway. Eliza had been taken aback when she started working in the kitchen, that there were multiple hallways that led to the castle that she’d thought was pretty far away. She was pretty sure there was some magical work at play to make the distance shorter.
After a few minutes, they arrived at a closed door, and Agun stepped aside.
“Well, here’s your stop,” he said, exiting.
Eliza watched him go before she knocked on the door.
“Enter.” Opening the door, she entered only to stop the sight of Malcolm.
He stood near the back window, and in his hands was a scroll. He wore jeans and a shirt, but over his shoulder was his plaid. It looked like a large scarf on him. His eyes were focused on the scroll. As she observed him, she couldn’t help the pang at the sight of him.
This is where he belonged. Now, the pictures of him she had in her mind in the city seemed almost fake. Like another life, in this stone-walled study with its hundred-year furniture and thick tombs that probably were the same age as her grandmother, Malcolm looked not only at home but like he was meant to be there.
And she didn’t.
This wasn’t her world.
Frankly, she didn’t know where her world was. This feeling of not belonging had always chased her; even when she slept, she’d feel it creeping up on her.
He finally looked up, closed his scroll, and immediately tossed it on the desk. “Come in.”
She closed the door behind her and walked deeper into the room. It was weird; for some reason, she felt like she should be wearing a gown as she approached him. Well, at least her hair was playing its role; she’d let it hang down her back as she pulled the top half back. She motioned toward the scroll, “What’s that?”
He glanced at it before groaning. “Something I was glad to live without all these years.”
For some reason, she couldn’t look at him. She felt fragile, like a glass shard waiting to fall.
“Is it true?” She asked, not looking at him. She had no right to demand anything from him. She was a burden, a charity case as far as he was concerned. “Are you really going to become the Alpha here?”
His smile slipped away as he looked away from her to the window. “My uncle asked me, and like I said earlier, it would be until he found a better person.”
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with him?” She closed her eyes and called herself stupid a thousand times. “I’m sorry, I should be the last person to question you or your actions?—”
“No,” he cut her off, meeting her gaze. “I am doing this for my people and only for the time I’m here. I told him that once the issue of the missing wolves is solved and we find whoever is working with them, I’d leave.”
She observed him, and before she could stop herself, she spoke. “You should be their Alpha, permanently.”
He moved towards her. “Is that what you think?”
She nodded, taking a step back. “I-when I saw you, I thought it fit,” she said, swallowing. She quickly sidestepped so a chair was between them. “I don’t think you belong in the city. I’ve only known you for a short while, but something about this place is right for you,” she said, laying her hands on the back of the chair to ground herself. “I know how it feels to be out of place, not to have a home. So, it’s not something you should give up easily.”
He didn’t laugh at her words or brush them off. Those green eyes she was starting to form a weakness for faced her directly. “You see me clearly, then. I can’t lie to you and say that I don’t wish it was different. That I could truly be these people’s leader. I can’t lie and say my blood doesn’t sing at the idea of playing the role of a true alpha.” He shook his head, “But I can’t take it.”
“Why can’t you?” she softly demanded. “You were the only one who heard my cry, the only one willing to be punished for hiding me. I can’t think of a better man to be a leader here.”
“I’ve been a Jackal for nearly six years,” he said, his tone dark. The lighting in the room seemed to dim, “I killed, no, murdered anyone I was ordered to. No man, no woman was spared in my duties to my master. I have done worse than kill a single Alpha outside of a challenge in my life. By our laws, I’m no better than trash. I wash, and scrub my hands and yet more blood appears.” He lifted his right hand and clenched it before him, “And if you think my heart feels guilt for them and their death. I don’t, I only feel guilt for the stain it put on my name and my honor. Nothing more.”
“I’m the one who killed the other witches. Those dead bodies I’m sure they found stack in the basement, were done by me.” The words slipped from between her lips before she could stop them. She sighed, “You’re not the only one with blood-stained hands here.”
He lifted his hand, “You don’t need to tell me.”
“I want to,” she said, stepping around the chair and sitting down. Her eyes held both pain and humor, “I should tell someone, right?”