Chapter 15 #2
“In a perfect world, one of us would’ve taken alpha and the other beta. Suffice to say, Malcom’s influence screwed that up and put us at loggerheads. Neither one of us was backing down. That usually calls for—well, never mind what it calls for, it wasn’t happening.”
“Killing your twin curses your line,” Felix murmured.
Phil’s gaze flicked to him. “Yeah. So we split the pack. His vision in the west, mine in the east, and the town itself to remain neutral…except thanks to Malcom and that rabid bitch Wally ended up marrying, it didn’t, which is why we instituted the silence and closed borders. The wards you passed are part of that.”
“Wait.” Jena pinched the bridge of her nose, agreeing with the bitch part of that statement, but… “Rabid? Are we talking about the same Mary Montgomery? The one in 24/7 pastel pants suits and kitten heels?”
Phil snorted. “Yeah, and pray that you never see the side of her your mother did. That outer ward slices across this entire part of the peninsula for a reason, and she’s it.”
Mary Montgomery? Really? Goddamn, all this was wild. “Why did she hate my mom so much?” Jena asked. “Ms. Matilda said Mrs. Montgomery was jealous.”
“That’s as likely reason as any.” The big were shrugged.
“When Mary transferred into our pack, Wally and I were at college. I got the impression she’d suffered a personal tragedy and needed a fresh start.
Whatever the circumstances, she definitely did not come from any kind of means.
I remember my mother saying Mary showed up with everything she owned in a garbage bag and a wicked case of fleas. ”
“Now there’s a visual,” Felix murmured.
Phil grunted. “Rebecca took Mary under her wing, and she practically lived up there on the tor for the first handful of years she was here. Then everything went to hell. The old alpha passed, and I had so much of my own shit to deal with, I’m not sure what happened between the two of them.
Rebecca wouldn’t talk about it, and the slander that flew out of Mary’s mouth I never believed and won’t repeat. ”
Well, that sounded on brand. “So, you were friends with my mom?” Jena asked, rubbing her still pinging thighs.
Phil nodded. “She was like a sister to me. Whatever she needed, I was happy to oblige, and vice versa. She warded our territory, and the pack and I helped take care of the manor and surrounding property. After your grandparents’ accident, we were both orphans of a sort and looked after each other…
” his voice petered off, and his eyes grew hard.
“And then your father rolled into town. I hated that sack of shit, and after I’d made that plain, he made sure I wasn’t welcome. I’ll spare you the details, but what he put her through—if he wasn’t already dead, I’d hunt him down and kill him just for the pleasure of doing it.”
He shook his head and pulled a beat-up leather satchel from under the table and slid it toward her. “Thank God she finally wised up to his bullshit. Everything in there she left for you.”
Jena’s brow furrowed as she flipped it open. What the hell? A half-dozen legal briefs, deeds, something had been incorporated—“I don’t understand.”
Phil ran a hand over his beard again. “After your grandparents passed, your mom created a series of trusts to protect their land and holdings. Right bit of luck there, considering William burned through everything that wasn’t nailed to the floor.”
“You’re talking about the trust the ruins and the surrounding property are included in,” Jena said, slowly flipping through the pages of legalese.
“Yes,” he nodded, “but there was another trust that she made me the beneficiary of with the understanding that it would transfer to you when the time was right. That’s what I used to buy the land you sold, then leased it to my pack.
” He tapped the articles of incorporation.
“You’ve been making a pretty penny on the harvested timber and the mineral deposits we’ve found. ”
“Isn’t it illegal to sell yourself your own property?” Felix asked.
“Technically she didn’t, she sold it to me,” Phil said. “Don’t you work in government?”
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” Felix agreed, taking another sip of water.
Jena glanced between them, slack-jawed. “I don’t believe it.”
“I figured you would say that, which is why I brought this, too.” Phil pulled out a slim volume wrapped in dark silk from the bag that she hadn’t seen against its lining. He handed it to her, and her fingers tingled as she took it, the magic within resonating and making her bones hum.
“Holy shit,” Felix swore, flipping a leg over the picnic table’s bench to face her. “Is that—”
Jena nodded, her heart in her throat as she nudged the silk aside. It was her mother’s grimoire, or part of it. It seemed too slim to hold everything she would’ve chronicled before she’d died.
“I can’t help but think that somehow, she knew what was coming and did what she could to preserve your family’s legacy.
I’ll give you some time,” Phil said, standing.
“We can talk more over dinner. There’s a couple of guest trailers you’re welcome to use if you want to clean up and get some rest. Kelsey can take you back up, but we’re gonna need to move onto current events sooner than not, especially if that young man of yours is missing. ”
“What do you know about that?” Jena asked, tearing her gaze from the leather cover.
“What I know and what I suspect are two totally different things.”
“They’re saying he went feral again,” Kelsey said, handing Jena her phone.
She scanned the screen, her stomach in knots. A public safety bulletin had been sent out asking everyone to keep indoors while the Western pack looked for him. What? They said he was dangerous…her brow furrowed as she read…use extreme caution…no. She didn’t believe it.
Jena handed the phone back. “This is all a lie.”
“Shit,” Felix said at her side, scanning his. “So much for Mayor Chamber’s fundraising meeting. I’m gonna catch hell for not being there to send that alert out.”
“Regardless of whether it’s true or not, the real shit won’t hit the fan until tomorrow’s full moon. Wherever they have him, he should be safe until then.” Phil nodded at the grimoire. “And it’s probably best to hear what I have to say after you thumb through that.”
“Then I vote for clean clothes,” Felix said, getting up. “And you need to take care of that that gash. I wasn’t kidding about tetanus.”
Yeah, that was probably a good plan, except the part where they had to hike back to those trailers. Jena frowned as she clambered to her feet, and Felix steadied her as she swayed.
“Need another ride?” Liam asked, ambling over.
Oh good Lord, he’d taken his shirt off and glistened with sweat from chopping wood. Felix made a pained noise.
“No,” Jena said, glaring at Liam. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t and the walk back to the guest trailers was miserable.
The shower was painful as hell made marginally better once she gave up, sat down in the little stall, and cried.
She didn’t quite collapse onto the bed after, but it was close.
Her legs were killing her, and the gash at her hip had become agony.
Jena winced, calculating her karma. She’d tried taking the rings off, and—surprise, but it wasn’t really a surprise—they hadn’t budged, which meant were spit was out.
That left magic, but unfortunately, she was gonna need to rescue a busload of kindergarteners from a typhoon to even her scales if she healed herself.
Unless she ate sin to do it.
Damn it. If she wanted to be able to function, she didn’t have a choice. She could hardly move, and the gash on her side was deep enough to need stitches. She reluctantly opened herself up to that awful part of her power—
And beside her, the grimoire shone like a beacon.
What the hell? Her brows furrowed. Granted, ritualistic implements like an athame, caldrons, or alters absorbed karma from the practitioner using them if their intent was consistent enough, but grimoires were more like a mash up of a recipe book and a diary.
What could’ve possibly left that much residue?
Jena chewed her lip, not sure she wanted to find out, and pretty positive she didn’t have a choice. She reached out with a trembling hand, her palm sliding over the grimoire’s embossed cover, and an all too familiar roil of nausea churned through her stomach. Then her gut dropped.
Magic prickled around her as a spell took hold.
Jena was in a memory, trapped in someone else’s body—a woman’s—as they stole down a hillside toward a dark wood.
A waning crescent moon shone bright above.
The woman glanced over her shoulder, the scent of bergamot in her hair.
Behind her, a stately manor stood upon a hilltop, its windows black, and the sound of night creatures all around.
A silver trail marked her path through the damp grass, leading from a garden with seven standing stones at its center.
Jena started, positive she was in her mother’s memory. She took in the house where she’d been born as it had been, her heart in her throat. The few photos of it hadn’t done it justice—
The node stirred beneath her mother’s feet, uneasy. A whisper of warning went through her, with a sense of intrusion. Something at the border of this realm and the next was amiss.
Her mother turned away and continued on, into the forest, silent as she moved through the bracken, and Jena a passenger as the scene played out. A murmur of voices came from farther on. Her mother’s steps slowed, and she wiped her damp palms against her sundress, creeping closer.
There, through a break in the trees was a pond.
Across its mirror surface upon a rise, a circle of birch graced the shore.
Her mother frowned at the tingle of magic spicing the air.
No wonder the node had been alarmed. A gateway had been opened between their dappled trunks leading from this realm to that of the sidhe.
Two of the creatures stood beneath the crowning limbs in shadow, their furious whispers carrying clearly over the still waters.
“…don’t care,” the shorter of them hissed. “I told you, the witch knows and has taken precautions. The node is beyond my reach, which is why I called you.” He jabbed a finger into the taller man’s chest. “And you owe me.”
“Would that I didn’t, but I’ll allow that I do, and you’re just as much of a fool for getting caught.
Gods, they can’t even do colors right here,” the taller man muttered, plucking a leaf to inspect, then let it flitter to the ground.
“It serves you right getting banished to this shit realm and shackled in that pathetic form. Are you enjoying being a beast?”
“Hardly. It chafes, and you’re going to release me of it.”
The taller man pulled a dagger. “That’s an easy enough request.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged, flipping the blade into the air and catching it. “It doesn’t matter to me either way, but it might be easier. This ‘favor’ will put you perilously close to being back in my debt. I’ll allow she’s toothsome, but from what I’ve seen, Rebecca is cagier than a witch has any right to be.”
Jena’s mother tensed, sinking lower into the bracken.
“You do this for me, and I’ll gladly owe you in turn.”
The taller man snorted. “By all that’s dark, you must be desperate to offer that up. Are you truly that keen to return to court? Moghaied’s still livid you got a bastard on that were-bitch,” he said, his scorn ringing through the night.
“What bargains I make should be none of Her Dark Majesty’s concern—” The shorter man growled, then waved a hand. “No matter. When I deliver the node, she’ll take me back.”
The taller man snorted. “Good luck with that.”
“I don’t need luck, I have you, and I swear on all the old Gods, Brizathilis, if you fuck this up…”
He laughed. “If I fuck this up? You seem to be doing a proper job of that yourself. That ‘accident’ was a botched job, and I still can’t believe you wasted your firstborn on one of those beasts.”
“That’s not a waste, that’s to plan,” the shorter of the two scoffed. “Mongrel or no, once he comes into his power, the boy’s blood is blue enough to sever the witch’s bond along with the wards around the node and transfer its allegiance to me and mine.”
“Mmm. Yes. I saw just how blue it is…sidhe-blue, in fact. But you’ll need more than the bastard’s blood to pull that off—”
“I’m well aware of what will be required, and I’ve plenty of time to accomplish it.”
“More like you’ll be cutting it rather close. Three decades, four, until the proper alignment of the seasons and the moon? You won’t last here long enough to try twice—” The taller man paused. “How do you plan on nesting the cuckoo until then?”
“The boy’s coloring was easy enough to explain away with the were bitch’s mongrel pedigree, and besides, the last time anyone made that connection, these hills were still beneath the sea. There hasn’t been a mound in this part of the country in centuries—unseelie or otherwise.”
The taller man tapped his lip. “Creating one would win you points…”
“No, it will win me Moghaied’s hand and a consort’s crown, but I can’t do that with a damned sin-eater squatting on what should rightfully be mine.”
“Pity you didn’t kill her with the rest of them.”
Jena’s mother’s breath caught.
“I’ll agree it was an unfortunate oversight on my part, but how was I to know the witch wouldn’t be in the car?”
“Maybe because they only seat five?” The taller man sniffed. “I’ll do what I can to bind her to me,” he tapped his lip, “but it won’t be easy…”
“Perhaps she’d be more inclined to trust you if you acted worthy of it.”
The tall man laughed. “You do recall my nature, don’t you? Chaos is my bread and butter, and this town’s far too tempting for mischief.” He clasped the other man’s shoulder. “Not to worry, I’ll shatter her wards along with her heart, and take all she holds dear as my prize.”
“As long as the node is mine.” The shorter of the two stepped a pace from him and turned, his hands on his hips. He looked up, and the moonlight played over Malcom’s sharp features.
Jena’s stomach clenched, and her mother put her hand to her abdomen.
“As you say, and a favor—along with all the witch owns—belongs to me.”
“It’s agreed. Take what you like. You rid me of her, and I owe you in turn.”
The slice of the taller man’s smile flashed in the shadows, and he held out his hand, then drew his dagger across his palm. Malcom did the same, and they clasped hands, intoning as one.
“So mote it be.”