CHAPTER 32
Adrenaline, borne of fear, infused his muscles with much-needed energy, and Mark shot to his feet, startling the women. “How do you know that?”
His tone was accusatory. He didn’t know Amara. Perhaps she was lying. Perhaps she was another one of Ethel’s tricks, and this was not happening at all. He held his eyes shut, took his time reopening them just to make sure this was actually happening.
She is not. The Queen’s voice infiltrated his mind, and Mark shook his head. She has reason to want Ethel dead as well. I assure you she is a friend. An ally.
The fortifications of the mental barrier he’d promised Caster he would keep closed were now ashes and dust.
He took a breath; it was best to deal with one problem at a time, lest he drown in all of it.
The thought of losing himself, losing Caster, would not occupy space in his mind. He would not let it.
He opened his eyes, acknowledged the Queen’s advice with a nod, and looked at the witch he didn’t know, hoping the Queen was right.
She rose from her knees, smoothing her dress into compliance with little urgency. “When you travel to the Underworld, you bring back a little of that energy with you. It is on you, on your wolf.”
Mark glanced at Edie. “You said I couldn’t go to the Underworld against my will.”
“You can’t.” It was Amara who answered, her reply further confusing his already clouded mind.
“It seems it was an accident. You intended to go there, even if you had no conscious awareness of it.”
She looked at Amelia, nodded once at her, and then turned her full attention on Mark.
“You need to learn how to control that, or it will happen again, and every time it does, Ethel will find a way to follow you.”
“You think she did this time?” Dean asked. He was on full alert, his body primed for a fight. His stance should have been comforting, but all it did was increase Mark’s anxiety. The strategy he’d started to develop before he walked into this room shattered into a fear he couldn’t contain.
“Yes.” Amara’s reply further intensified the fear.
“How do we fix it?” Dean’s question followed the presence of his Alpha into Mark’s mind. His wolf acknowledged the Prime Alpha but was still reluctant to move away from its hiding place.
Amara took a step closer to him, stopped as if asking for permission to close the distance. Mark looked at the Queen, begging her support as his wolf searched the house for the one person who would make everything better, but Caster’s scent seemed far away, its effect out of reach.
He had to leave with Damien. I am here. The Queen reinforced her words by moving closer to him, taking his hand. Dean’s Alpha flooded his body with a dose of healing, something his brother hadn’t done in a long time. With their unshakable support, he nodded for Amara to draw closer.
The witch’s hand hovered over his forearm, and the same tingling sensation he experienced in Riley’s presence tickled his skin. “You were not there for too long, but the residue is there.” Her brown eyes met his. “What is the last thing you remember?”
He squeezed the Queen’s hand and glanced at Dean. “The battle against the witch, Zeke’s reappearance, and then nothing. I woke up and Mikey said it had been three days.” He took a breath. “I saw Zeke, in wolf form, in my mind just before I woke up.”
Amara nodded, her expression calm but her demeanor heightened as if she expected a threat. “Would you be willing to revisit your time there?”
“No!” Dean’s emphatic denial, the growl of his wolf that he didn’t seem to want to control, was impossible to counter. “That’s not happening.”
“He would not be going back there, just to the memory of that event,” Amelia said, standing to join the circle of support forming around Mark.
“Yes,” Mark said, staring his brother down.
Trying to resist Dean’s influence was a chore, but this was necessary.
“I need to know. We need to know.” He squeezed the Queen’s hand once and released his hold, moving closer to Dean.
“You said you’d be here for whatever I need. This is what I need.”
His brother started to shake his head, his overwhelming Alpha presence crowding out Mark’s thoughts, but he was determined.
“We can’t win if we don’t know how powerful she is.”
He waited for Dean’s acquiescence, the small nod sufficient. Certain of his brother’s support, he turned to the one witch in the room with enough power to show him what he needed to see. It was time to find out what Zeke and Ethel were up to.
Amara nodded her understanding, and Mark reached for Caster, allowing his wolf’s heightened senses to find and hold on to their connection.
His name formed in his mind, but that inner voice, the peace of the moment, was broken by a shattering, bone-chilling vibration that seemed to rise from the ground, through his body to settle in his belly.
The house shook in its confines, the sound deafening.
He only just held on to his balance, his hands reaching for both the Queen and Amelia as they crashed into him.
They fell over the coffee table, his body taking the brunt of the fall as it broke against his back.
The pain lingered, the scent of his own blood filling his lungs.
But he sighed when his wolf reached for him, providing him with the relief he would need to keep fighting.
Dean had somehow stayed on his feet, but Edie and Adella were also on the floor. Confusion was momentary. They all took stock of any damage they may have suffered as everyone found their feet and balance. Whatever it was, had lasted only a few seconds.
The door blew open, and relaxing relief drew a sigh from the depths of his soul at the sight of Caster.
The calm he often brought with him soothed the fear in Mark only for a moment.
He was in front of Caster without any conscious thought of his movement.
He was bleeding. The scent of his blood was unmistakable, as was the almost imperceptible wince as soon as Mark touched his arm.
“What happened to you?” Every other fear, the witch, Zeke, and everything in between disappeared into the uncontainable panic that he would lose Caster.
Caster took a breath, his inhale a little labored. “Are you OK?”
Mark nodded, but when he opened his mouth to question Caster’s obvious injury, Caster shook his head. I’m fine, baby. I promise.
“What the fuck was that?” Dean interrupted Mark’s latest attempt to take stock of Caster’s injuries.
“A powerful teleportation spell,” Amara said.
Caster nodded. “Yes.”