Chapter 9 Grayson
PRESENT DAY, JULY
Sweet, smoky tendrils wisp around the room, dancing toward the bookshelves and aged photographs on the walls, swirling up slowly before the ceiling fan obliterates it. I take another puff of the cigar—a rare indulgence—and it swirls toward Orion.
He doesn't react. He rarely does. I'm the hothead; he's the reticent one. Orion leans back in his chair, smug. "Check."
I adjust my long legs and set the cigar in the ashtray, glancing at the chessboard. Sometimes, playing with Orion is fun, a challenge. The trouble is we know each other too well. A game between us lasts for days. We take turns in victory, but today I'm distracted.
I keep thinking back to that phone call this afternoon with Kendrick, the leader of all shifters in North America. Máni, we call him. I rarely hear from him. Years can pass without speaking, but he's called me twice this year, and I've traveled to Washington State once to meet with him.
Orion glances up, expression neutral. "Rate still increasing?"
I nod, swallowing down the knot forming in my throat. It's been almost six months to the day since Lily went missing—gone without a trace.
We didn't see the pattern for years. Wolves are shit at communication. That benefits clans across the country in avoiding conflict and boundary disputes, but it's a detriment to us right now.
All the missing shifters were fairly young and female, apart from a few.
All disappeared; no blood, no broken twigs, or dug-up dirt.
In all cases, only a subtle trace of their scent led into the woods where their packs hunt.
No sign of foul play. No witnesses. As though they had taken a walk into the woods and never looked back.
"I visited Lily's folks this morning. Her mom swears she's still alive."
"Deltas, right?"
"The whole family," I confirm. "It's not a wolf's instincts.
It's a mother's. She says she can still feel her…
" I swear under my breath. I didn't want to steal the woman's hope.
Her grief is still raw, and she's desperate for me to tell her I can get her daughter back, that I'll figure out who took her, that I can save her.
I'm her Lune—the Alpha leader of Silent Peak—but there's nothing I can do. This isn't just another petty squabble, there's no plan of action, we have no leads. It's been months. I couldn't bring myself to admit to her the shitty fucking truth: when shifters go missing, they're never seen again.
"Kendrick have a plan?" Orion asks, his tone soft and measured.
He's the calm eye in my storm—patient when I'm raging.
Thoughtful when I'm reactive. People often underestimate my second.
Of the two of us, he's the even-tempered one.
Friendly and patient, standoffish but kind.
If anything, that makes him more dangerous.
I shake my head, trying to clear away all the shit that weighs on me. My brother Silas. Kendrick. Lily. All the missing wolves. All the other wolves on our mountain, the ones I still need to protect.
"He thinks the witches are involved, but nothing concrete. If there were more of them…"
Unlike wolves, witches don't struggle with fertility issues. And yet, there are far fewer of them. They hoard their power, and having offspring means sharing—in their minds, diluting—their magic. While we build packs and communities, they scatter, forming small, isolated covens.
We've maintained an uneasy alliance with them for centuries, ever since we exposed our existence to the humans. Occasional conflicts arise, usually between witches and rogue wolves—easy targets—but generally, we respect territorial boundaries.
Kendrick believes the alliance is shifting. He's been saying it for years, that the witches are planning something. But they aren't organized like we are, and he had no proof, so I mostly dismissed it. I should know better than to ignore one of Kendrick's hunches.
The witches operate in tight-knit covens, making them harder to infiltrate or monitor. They don't gather in large numbers like we do. But something's gotta change. My wolf senses it, too—he's restless, hackles raised.
"Kendrick's scouts are tracking Deidre's coven," I finally say. "She's hanging around Ontario, these days. North of the lakes."
Orion whistles. "Haven't heard that name in a minute."
"Haven't seen her since the Depression. She was selling prosperity spells to humans at twenty bucks a pop, when most people couldn't afford bread.
" Twenty bucks was a lifeline back then.
She hasn't changed much, or so I've heard.
Still amassing power through subterfuge and hustle.
It isn't so much that Deidre is the most powerful witch in existence—though she's close—it's that she's willing to do anything if it means staying on top. "Her coven vanished after that."
"He thinks she's involved, then?"
"If anyone's powerful enough to organize an attack against the wolves, it's her."
"They rarely organize, though."
"Doesn't mean they won't." I let the threat hang between us, because that's exactly what it is. We can't wait for all the other Lunes in this country to get their shit together. Something must be done, soon. Now.
Alone, witches are no match for a shifter, especially wolves. We are stronger, faster, bloodier—far more vicious. But if they're working together? Especially after years of hoarding power? One spell, one incantation with the strength of a coven, and they could do some serious damage.
There's a bang on the front door. Staring down at the game, contemplating my next move, I say, "Come in," though I don't yell it. I can smell them from here; three of my enforcers, and with their shifter hearing, they'll have heard the invitation.
The door opens, and as their scents precede them, Eli, Andrea, and Stance amble in. Stance follows Andrea's lead. As much as he'd love to dominate her, it'll never happen. Eli's eyes casually dart around the room before landing on me.
I sip my whiskey, tasting the sweet burn on my lips.
Takes a lot more to get shifters drunk, but I enjoy the flavor.
When I was young, my father would test me and my brother when we drank or ate food.
He'd drop dinner on our plates, and we weren't allowed to touch it until we could identify it.
Silas hated the game. Thought it was boring, a waste of time.
I loved it. Elk, aged two, resided primarily in the north woods.
Recent meal, mushrooms. Glass of goat's milk, three days old, collected by Hilde, the pack's head cook.
And so on. It was a fun game and helped me hone my hunting skills.
Though I do it less with my meals these days, I still enjoy the challenge.
I swirl the glass in my hand. Whiskey. Kentucky spring water, likely near the Outer Bluegrass. Human distillery, heavy on the rye. Aged twelve years. Hints of red wine.
My three enforcers express patience, though Andrea is slightly agitated.
I glance up at her. Orion rolls his eyes, offering a slight, admonishing shake of his head.
He knows better than to tell me what to do, but in this instance, he's right.
I managed to extricate myself from Andrea nearly six months ago, and if I fuck her one more time, she'll be even harder to shake off.
Still, she's an attractive female, and she knows it.
"Speak."
Andrea opens her mouth to explain, but Eli cuts her off. They're both alphas, but Eli ranks higher, so she quiets.
"A new scent on the perimeter. Hilde mentioned it in the dining hall, she caught it when she was out foraging this morning. Shifter, female, unknown."
Every wolf in Silent Peak carries our clan's scent—all few thousand of us.
And our territory spans nearly two hundred square miles in Northern Maine, west of Baxter, near the Canadian border, with our community nestled halfway up the mountain.
No one accidentally wanders this deep into shifter territory.
And you don't sneak up on shifters. You arrive at our door and ask permission to hunt, for passage, for clan membership.
Eli continues, "Hilde didn't sense anything nefarious, but after she mentioned it, I went out and picked up the scent closer to our lands, about five miles south of here."
Andrea snarls, flexing her fists at her sides.
Now I see why she's agitated. The suggestion of an unknown female shifter in our territory has triggered her territorial instincts.
Her position as highest-ranking female comes with its own politics, and a new female wolf would set her off—potential rival or not.
Andrea's always been a bit of a hothead.
We're too much alike in that regard. React first, ask questions later.
"Unmated?" I ask.
"Couldn't tell. It was…" Eli's militant posture falters. It's slight, but to me and Orion, it might as well be a flashing neon sign. He takes too long to continue, making me even more suspicious. "It was odd. There's something different about her scent. Almost… sweet? But until I find her…"
Damn near proof enough that something's off.
Orion and I make eye contact, and he lifts one eyebrow subtly. We're wondering the same thing.
"You scent any witches?"
Eli masks his surprise. Kendrick voiced his concerns with me, but I haven't discussed them with anyone but Orion. We've tightened security this past year—not entirely due to Kendrick's warnings, but we all sensed something shifting, especially after Lily's disappearance.
"Witches?" he clarifies.
"Just keep an eye out. If you scent anything else unusual."
"You think there are witches on our lands?" Andrea asks, her eyes wide and excited.
I shake my head. "No. Just a theory we're tossing around. With all the missing shifters… Just find the wolf. Lock her up for trespassing, then come find me or Orion. I don't like the idea of a lone wolf wandering our lands."