Chapter 19 #2
As I watched, another, much larger buzzard landed between them.
This one immediately shifted to hybrid. The human part of him appeared to be a male in his fifties and his hybrid form was a graceful mix of feathers, flesh, and strength.
He crouched there as if waiting for us to notice that he wasn’t a bird anymore.
“You and your wolves are in my territory, Alpha Lennox.”
His voice rose from the depths of the deepest well, winged among the highest branches of the tallest trees, breathed in the pockets of warm air hidden in your lungs. It was powerful and throaty, the melodic version of aged dark rum paired with the leather and cedar notes of a fine Cuban cigar.
“Only me,” I whispered back. He’d hear it. All shifters had supernatural hearing.
“I count four,” the buzzard shifter said in a voice like echoing thunder, “including you.”
He had to be their alpha. If he wasn’t, I sure didn’t want to meet the actual one.
Correcting a shifter this strong felt like a dumb move. Instead, I asked, “May I request your indulgence for a couple of minutes, Alpha?”
“Shut up, witch,” Greer said in a raging whisper. “I’m trying to think.”
I kept my gaze locked on the birds. My request triggered a rapid-fire flutter of wings, followed by a collective wave of nods and head shakes.
“You have two minutes,” the alpha said.
We exchanged brief, tight nods. Two minutes was enough.
I’d been bracing for this moment since that night at the pub. Ronan and the wolves had made one thing clear—Greer and the Yarnells had to answer for their behavior.
I reached into my core, the nucleus from which I’d unwittingly drawn the power to give Mason an alpha command. It was the same place where Bronwyn’s fear had eaten a hole in my chest. The place I carried all the people for whom I was responsible, for the simple reason that I cared about them.
The pack bonds, coven bonds, my own heart—whatever it was, I grasped for it and found it had been reaching just as desperately for me. The bond was instant, it climbed me like an ivy vine and wrapped us together with strength, connection, and power.
Hundreds of heartbeats funneled into my chest, and every thump and thrum and pound sent magic pumping through my body.
I felt more alive than I’d ever imagined a human could feel.
My wolves didn’t take away my worry for them, they shared the responsibility for each other, lifting some of the burden off my shoulders and setting it on theirs.
The difference was, there were so many of them, no one wolf had to carry it all—not Ronan, not Mason, and not me.
“It’s time.”
“Time for what, demon-witch?” Greer let out a flat, anxious laugh. “Your magic won’t work on us. We all have charms.”
“I’m not going to use that kind of magic,” I said.
“The hell does that mean?” Helen pressed her hand to her chest, presumably where her charm lay against it.
Something must’ve clued him in that things had gotten dangerous, because Stephen cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the darkened house, “Hurry up and get out here if you want her!”
“Quiet,” Greer snapped.
“Yeah, shut up,” Helen snarled. “Stupid fool.”
“Get out here,” Stephen shrieked again. “Now!”
Power bloomed in me like a prickly pear blossom on the flesh of a saguaro.
The voice that burst from my chest, throat, and mouth came from a place deep within the bonds that wed my magic, the coven, and the pack together.
“Brock Greer, Helen Yarnell, Stephen Yarnell. With my authority as Alpha, I declare you each to be forsworn from the La Paloma pack.”
I wasn’t sure I’d done it right, because, at first, I felt nothing.
Turned out, moon magic took a second to kick in.
And kick was the appropriate word, too. The backlash was like taking a roundhouse to the head. I didn’t only see stars, I saw the entire solar system and six more galaxies I’d never even heard of. I flipped onto my side and retched.
Ronan had explained to me that forswearing a wolf from the pack was painful, but it was a diluted pain because every wolf took a piece of the hit. It was far more devastating to the forsworn wolf, could even kill a weaker one if he wasn’t braced for the impact.
Three wolves being forsworn at the same time was as explosive as Cecil’s favorite spells—to the wolves forsworn and the pack.
All three wolves exploded away from the car in a sudden rush of energy as the pack’s heartbeats accelerated within my chest—it felt as if they’d begun sprinting uphill en masse.
I’d hurt my people, and it sucked, but it had to be done.
Stephen called out to the house from where he lay a few feet away, his voice hoarse with pain and desperation. “Hurry up!”
I climbed out of the trunk. My body moved like a puppet with its strings cut—legs wobbly, arms out of sync. Running was going to be impossible. I’d have to settle for a fast shuffle.
My magic sparked, flooded me with endorphins, but it wasn’t enough.
I’d miscalculated. The injuries I’d sustained were much worse than a simple cut on the head and broken rib or two, and when you stacked the effects of the forswearing and my connection to Bronwyn through the coven bonds on top of them, it was a wonder I was conscious at all.
“Bitch.”
Claws sank into my ankle, and I toppled over onto the dry, hard dirt. My ribs screamed, my head felt like it was connected to my body by a rubber band, and all the breath in my lungs whooshed out in a painful thrust.
Greer’s voice was a claw-scrape of sound, his eyes glazed with pain.
“I should’ve been in that basement that day.
I’d have done what the other wolves couldn’t—I would have ripped you apart, demon.
If I hadn’t been out here distracting a bunch of godsdamned birds, Alpha would still be alive, and you wouldn’t be a pain in my ass. ”
I wished he’d been there, too. Demon Betty had killed eight wolves by boiling their brains inside their skulls. One more wouldn’t have posed any kind of threat at all.
She was still here if I needed her.
On cue, that cold, dark voice filled my/our head. Boiling time?
Gods, it was tempting.
I kicked away from Greer and regarded the wolves I’d just forsworn. While the Yarnells moaned and writhed in the dirt, Greer lunged for my leg, letting out little whines and desperate puffs of air when he missed.
They wouldn’t be down forever, though.
I was about to respond to my demon side with, “Yes, please, boil away,” when one of the fully shifted buzzards swooped down, dug its talons into Greer’s shoulders, and shot up.
“Murderer,” one of the other birds squawked.
He hovered at thirty feet and shook the massive wolf in midair. Blood from the wounds rained down on the Yarnells and me in fat, wet drops.
Enormous skeletal wings wrapped in leather skin burst from the alpha’s back. He stepped off the roof without breaking eye contact with the dangling wolf. His wings flapped slowly, keeping him aloft.
My brain tried to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew about buzzards, shifters, and paranormals in general, but I came up empty.
Holy smokes, what is this guy? No way he’s only a buzzard shifter. There’s magic here.
“She trespassed on your territory.” Greer flung an arm toward me. “The Pallás pack Alpha.”
“La Paloma Pack,” I wheezed. “We changed the name. Also, this wolf is correct. I’m trespassing. I apologize. These wolves brought one of my witches here to hurt her … I didn’t have time to ask permission.”
“One of your witches?” The hybrid buzzard craned his head to look down at me.
“I’m not only Alpha of the La Paloma pack. I’m also the Coven Mother of the Smokethorn Coven.” I purposely left out the temporary part.
“You’ve been busy, Alpha Betty,” he said, with what I thought might be a sliver of humor. I would’ve bet he’d known I’d started a coven. He seemed like a man who made it his business to know things like that.
“Yes, I have, Alpha—uh, what should I call you?”
He gave me a considering look before nodding briefly to himself and replying, “My name is Tommaso Dominici. You may call me Alpha Tomas.” He directed his attention back to Greer.
“The wolf alpha is forgiven for trespassing. She has brought us a gift. The perfect restitution.” He held out one muscled arm. “Liza, come.”