Chapter 9 #2
"It feeds on discord, violence, suffering." Finn's voice drops. "During the last war, it nearly broke through."
"What happened?" I wrap my arms around myself. The temperature in the room seems to have dropped ten degrees.
"Entire villages disappeared. Ships sank in calm waters." He pauses, and the silence stretches. "People turned on each other, driven mad by its influence."
My pen stills on the phone screen. "How... how did your grandfather stop it?"
"Seven elders, seven bloodlines, seven sacrifices." The sorrow in his voice is palpable. "They bound it with their deaths, locking it in the deep places where even shifters fear to go. The ritual was supposed to hold for at least two centuries, possibly longer."
"But someone's trying to break it early." Declan's voice is grim. "And if they succeed, if this thing gets free..."
"It won't just destroy Stormhaven," Finn finishes. "The island sits at a nexus point. Multiple ley lines converge here. If the Fomori uses this location as its anchor point, it can spread. Mainland Scotland first. Then Europe. Eventually..." He doesn't need to finish.
"The modern world," I whisper, understanding dawning. "Billions of people. Technology. Weapons. All the tools of discord and violence."
"Exactly." Finn nods slowly. "The Fomori would feast on human conflict like never before. Wars would erupt. Societies would collapse. And we'd be powerless to stop it once it reached critical mass."
The scope of it steals my breath. I look down at my notes, at the seven family names, at the three red pins marking three murders. Somewhere on this island, someone is working to unleash an ancient evil. And four more people are going to die unless we stop them.
"There's something else." I study the pattern, turning the phone so they can see my notes. "Each victim—did they have any connection to the original ritual beyond their bloodline? Were they magical? Powerful?"
The shifters exchange glances. "We hadn't considered that angle." Tessa straightens, paying closer attention now.
"You're thinking like warriors, not investigators." I pull out my phone browser. "My aunt—she was a watcher. She had knowledge, power of a sort. What about the others?"
Jax shifts his weight. "Duncan Ross was a fisherman. But his grandmother was known as a healer. Hedge magic, minor abilities."
"Emma MacLeod's family has sight," Finn adds. "Not strong, but present. She reportedly had prophetic dreams."
"So each victim wasn't just from the right bloodline—they were also magical themselves.
Even if the magic was minor or dormant." My pulse quickens as the pattern clarifies.
"That narrows our suspect pool considerably.
We're not looking for random descendants.
We're looking for the magical descendants of the original seven families. "
"That's... actually brilliant." Less hostility colors Tessa's voice now. More assessment. "If we cross-reference family trees with known magical abilities..."
"We can predict who the next targets are." Declan looks at me with something like awe. "How did you see that?"
"Because patterns are what I do." I turn back to the map, studying the four unmarked convergence points. "Where are these located?"
Declan points them out. "North cliffs. East shore near the old lighthouse. West cove by the abandoned fishing village. And here—the standing stones on the northern ridge."
The standing stones. Where Declan and I went. Where he nearly lost control. He tenses beside me as the same realization hits him.
"The summoner chose that location for a reason," I say carefully. "It's the most powerful convergence point, isn't it?"
"The strongest on the island." Finn confirms. "Which means it will likely be saved for last. The final death. The one that frees the entity."
"Then we have time." I start making a list on my phone. "We need to identify the remaining four targets from the Sinclair, Campbell, Morrison, and Ross families. We need to protect them. And we need to figure out who benefits from releasing this Fomori."
"No one benefits." Jax's voice is flat. "It's a chaos entity. It destroys everything."
"Someone thinks they benefit." I've investigated enough conspiracies to know how people think. "Power, revenge, religious fanaticism—there's always a motive. We find the motive, we find the summoner."
"She's right." Finn looks thoughtful. "During the last manifestation, there were cultists. Humans who worshipped the Fomori, believed serving it would grant them power or favor."
"Were any of those cultists captured? Questioned? Are there records?" My mind is already racing ahead, organizing the investigation into manageable pieces.
"My grandfather's journals might have details," Finn says slowly. "But they're in Old Irish. Not many can read them anymore."
"I can learn." I meet his surprised gaze. "Or find someone who can translate. Where are these journals?"
"With the selkie clan, in their archives beneath the sea." Finn's lips quirk. "Not easily accessible for humans."
"But accessible for you. Can you get them?"
"Possibly. But it would take time, and we don't know how much time we have."
"Then we work multiple angles." I'm pacing now, organizing the investigation in my head. "Finn pursues the historical angle—the journals, the original cultists, any records of the last manifestation. Tessa and Jax, you identify and protect the remaining bloodline carriers. Declan and I...”
"Will focus on identifying the summoner." Declan's determination matches my own. "Starting with anyone who's been showing unusual interest in the convergence points or the old families."
"There's one more thing." Finn's voice stops my pacing. "The summoner has to be someone with magical ability themselves. Significant ability. This isn't a ritual any human could perform. They'd need power, knowledge, and access to texts most people don't even know exist."
"So we're looking for a magic user, probably someone connected to the old families or with access to historical records, who has both the knowledge and power to perform blood magic." I add it to my notes. "That should narrow it down considerably."
"Unless it's one of us." Tessa's words are quiet but cut through the room like a blade.
Everyone goes silent.
"You think a shifter is doing this?" Jax's voice turns dangerous. "One of our own?"
"I think we'd be fools to rule it out." Tessa doesn't back down from his glare. "We're not the only supernatural beings on this island. There are selkies, sea witches, minor Fae. Any of them could have the knowledge and power."
"Or a rogue shifter." Finn's voice is grim. "It's been done before. Some wolves believe hiding from humans is cowardice. Some think the old ways—when we were worshipped and feared—were better. A Fomori would certainly bring back that fear."
Declan's reluctance to consider the possibility flows through the bond, but I also sense his acceptance that Tessa's right. "We investigate everyone. No exceptions. No sacred cows."
"Including pack members?" Jax asks, his voice tight.
"Including everyone." Declan's tone carries the weight of command. "Eliza's right. We need to think like investigators, not warriors. That means following the evidence wherever it leads."
I look around the room at these dangerous, powerful beings who are trusting me—however reluctantly—to help solve murders and stop an apocalypse.
The absurdity of my situation hits me suddenly.
A week ago, I was in London, living my life blissfully unaware of any of this.
Now I'm standing in an ancient Scottish abbey, mated to an alpha wolfshifter, planning an investigation into ritual murders and ancient evil.
You okay? Declan's mental voice is warm in my head.
Define 'okay,' I send back, testing this new ability.
His lips quirk slightly, though his expression doesn't change. Fair point.
"I'll need access to all my aunt's papers.
" I close the notes app. "I've found her journals, but there must be more—research notes, interviews, reports.
Everything she documented about the island, the families, the convergence points.
If she was working on this for more than forty years, there has to be additional material. "
"There is." Declan has the grace to look slightly guilty. "We secured boxes of her research after her death—files, recordings, correspondence. We've had them hidden at Clifftop House. I know you've been searching for additional materials."
"You've been hiding them from me?" My voice comes out sharper than I intend. "I've been tearing that house apart looking for...”
"I'm sorry." He squeezes my hand. "We were being cautious. We didn't know if you'd stay, if you could be trusted. Now that you're pack..." He trails off. "I'll show you where everything is tonight."
"Then that's where we start." I look at each of them in turn. "Four more people are going to die unless we stop this. My aunt died protecting this island and its secrets. I'm not going to let her death be in vain."
Tessa stands, and something in her expression has changed. Not quite acceptance, but maybe the beginning of respect. "The pack meeting tomorrow night. You should come. Let them see you, hear you. Show them you're not just some human who's going to sell us out."
"Is that safe?" I glance at Declan.
"I'll be there." His voice is firm. "No one will harm you."
"Jax and I will be there too," Tessa adds. "As will Finn and the others. You'll be surrounded by allies."
"Allies is a strong word." Jax mutters, but there's less hostility in his voice than before. "But Tessa's right. They need to see you're useful. That you bring something to the table beyond being the alpha's mate."
"Then I'll prepare a presentation." The words come out automatically—old professional habits. "Show them what I've found, what I can contribute. Treat it like pitching a story to an editor."
Finn laughs, the sound unexpected and oddly melodic. "A human journalist pitching an investigation to a pack of wolves. This should be entertaining."
"Terrifying is the word I'd use," I mutter, but Declan's pride and confidence in me flow through the bond like warmth.
You'll be brilliant, he sends. They'll love you.
Or eat me.
Not while I'm breathing.
The absolute certainty in his mental voice, backed by the emotional weight of the bond, settles something in my chest. I'm not facing this alone. Whatever comes, I have my mate at my back.
"We should move quickly." Finn stands. "I'll contact the selkies about the journals. It may take time to arrange access."
"I'll start identifying the remaining bloodline carriers." Tessa pulls out her phone. "Cross-reference family trees with magical ability reports. Should have a preliminary list by tomorrow."
"I'll coordinate security." Jax moves toward the door. "Make sure we have eyes on the remaining convergence points. If the summoner makes a move, we'll know."
They file out, leaving Declan and me alone in the study surrounded by maps and red pins marking death. His exhaustion bleeds through the bond, mixing with determination.
"You should rest," I say. "You haven't had much rest since...”
"Since you arrived and I claimed you." His arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. "And I won't sleep until I know you're safe. Until I know this threat is ended."
"Then we work together." I lean into his warmth, into the solid strength of him. "My investigative skills, your supernatural knowledge. We'll find whoever's doing this."
"Four more deaths." He murmurs against my hair. "Four more families about to lose someone they love."
I turn in his arms, looking up at his storm-grey eyes. "Then we make sure that doesn't happen. We have something the summoner doesn't—we know what they're trying to do. That gives us an advantage."
"We also have you." His thumb traces my claiming mark, and possessive satisfaction radiates through the bond. "The watcher's heir. Finn was right—your bloodline runs deep. There's more to you than even you know yet."
"Magic?" I try to keep my voice light, but the possibility sends a thrill of fear and excitement through me. "I'm becoming a shifter. That seems like enough supernatural weirdness for one week."
"The transformation will unlock what was dormant." I replay Finn's words, considering. "My aunt had abilities. It makes sense that I might too."
"We'll figure it out together." Declan presses a kiss to my forehead. "But right now, you need to eat. And then we need to go through your aunt's papers. Look for anything that might point us toward the summoner."
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, making us both laugh. "Food first, then investigation. Very romantic."
"Romance can wait until we've stopped an apocalypse." Declan's tone is dry, but his love wraps around me through the bond, warming me more than any words could.
We leave the study hand in hand, but my mind is already racing ahead. Four families. Four potential victims. One summoner with the knowledge and power to end the world.
And me—former journalist, new shifter, claimed mate, watcher's heir. Whatever that all means.
I glance back at the map one more time before we leave, at the seven convergence points that form a perfect circle around the island.
But as we leave the study, one thought lingers, cold and heavy in my chest. Whoever's performing this ritual has been planning this for a very long time.
Longer than the six months since the first murder. Maybe years. Maybe decades.
And that means they're patient, careful, and absolutely committed to seeing this through. We're not just hunting a murderer. We're hunting a true believer.