Veiled legacy sentinels.., p.1
Veiled Legacy: Sentinels Book Two, page 1
Veiled Legacy
Alex Stone
Contents
Veiled Legacy
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Untitled
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Untitled
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Untitled
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Untitled
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Untitled
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Untitled
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Untitled
Chapter 15
Epilogue
About the Author
Veiled Legacy
Copyright © 2020 Alex Stone 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Alex Stone, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All character, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st edition published: 2021
Thank you for purchasing this book. This book and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
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To my husband who has always stood by me through my darkest times: thank you for being my rock.
Acknowledgments
Oh, boy! Where to begin? There are so many people I have to thank. Writing book two was no less work than writing book one; it took so many late nights, tears, and a few extra guilty bites (or tubs) of ice cream! I am truly blessed to have a team and support system that were just as strong this time around as they were before. Thank you, Sokavitch, for being my platonic soulmate, for laughing and cursing with me over some of these characters. No matter how many books I write, I’ll always need my best friend to gush with me. Thank you to Mandy and everyone else at Raw Book Editing for your diligence. Veiled Legacy and the Sentinels wouldn’t be what it is without you! I’d also like to thank Marissa at Cover Me Darling; your work is magical and perfectly captures the essence of this series. A huge thank you to Chelsea for being my guide and for the hours you’ve put in to help make Sentinels happen. Still, there are many more friends and family members who have supported me along the way. Thank you all for your love and encouragement. I couldn’t have done this without you!
Prologue
Raina
Winter 1968
Their shouts of merriment faded out of earshot. My pack, Totius, was not the group of saviors I had thought them to be. While the men drank and celebrated the Rising of the new alpha, I had to take a chance.
With every threat away, I ran with my best friend into the bedroom of my log cabin. I hastily yanked armfuls of clothes out of my dresser, and Nichole shoved them into my suitcase. Nichole began to zip it closed, but I stopped her. “Wait,” I said, turning to grab a pair of pearl earrings, the only tokens I had left of my biological family. Though I couldn’t remember anything about my parents, their deaths nearly fifteen years ago still haunted me. Their deaths were the reason I was an orphan and vagabond, and so easily manipulated into believing those in Totius cared about me. I gently placed the earrings in the mesh pocket on the inside of my suitcase.
“Anything else?” Nichole asked eagerly.
I shook my head with resolve. “No, nothing I had here was really mine.”
“Very well.” She zipped it closed then pulled me in for a tight hug. “We’ll meet again, dear friend. Take care of your little boy,” she added brushing her fingers across my nearly flat belly.
I blinked back tears as my swollen right eye throbbed. Yet another reminder of the abuse I suffered at the hands of the boy who promised me everything. And now his uncle is alpha. I sniffled and forced a smile before responding to Nichole. “You’re certain it’s not a girl?” I feared more than anything that he would grow up to be like his father.
“Trust me. It’s a boy, but I do sense a girl will have the biggest impact on you. Perhaps more children will come?”
“We’ll see,” I said. “Thank you for your help and protection.”
Nichole took my hands in hers and met my eyes. “The spell will not last long,” she said with the utmost urgency in her voice. “You must leave soon, or the men will likely catch scent of your trail anyway. When you leave the community, head south until you find the road. You’ll follow it east until you find the bus stop. These tickets will take you to the place I told you about.” Nichole set the two strips of cardstock into my hands, and they felt so much heavier than I thought they would.
“Good luck,” she added, dismissing me.
I nodded. “Goodbye,” I said and fled what should have been my home.
Suitcase in tow, I tried to avoid running into any of the other women. They’d have no choice but to report what they had seen. As I neared Nathaniel’s parents’ cabin, I slowed. My heart assaulted my ribcage with its fearful fluttering. It was risky. I knew it was risky. Looking around me, I saw no one. The loyal women of Totius were all in their homes like dutiful wives. Abused wives. I set my suitcase beside the steps leading to their cabin door. The door wasn’t locked. There was no need. The community was hidden and heavily fortified. Those who lived here were either loyal or beaten into submission. Who would dare go against their alpha’s family? No one. Except me.
Their cabin was larger, more spacious, than the other cabins. The new alpha’s little brother didn’t have a plain cabin. No, his had an updated kitchen with an oven instead of a wood stove. His cabin was adorned with the heads of the animals he had hunted and the skins of those who had defied the previous alphas. I knew I needed to hurry, but trespassing in a forbidden place, I couldn’t help moving as stealthily as possible.
Nathaniel had shown me where his father kept the talisman. He’d likely be blamed or beaten for its disappearance. Good. I’d be damned if I let them breed more chauvinistic wolves that beat their women. I snuck into his parents’ bedroom and opened the large oak wardrobe that housed too many fur coats. The hole in the bottom was easy to find. Wood scraped against wood as I removed the false bottom revealing guns, cash, jewels, and other valuables. I sought an oddity.
On a hemp cord hung a round, wooden pendant with a roughly carved wolf on it. This was what I could take from them. This would hurt Nathaniel so much more than my leaving. When my boyfriend punched me in the face for talking out of turn at dinner, no one reacted. The men carried on their conversations, and the women put their heads down. I only wished that I knew how to fight back. Cowards like that should never beget a true wolf.
I grabbed sixty dollars and put the wardrobe back the way I had found it. Placing the talisman around my neck, I left the community for good. Prior to meeting Nichole and Totius, I had been alone most of my life. I could do it again. I would start over. I would learn to fight, to be strong, and I’d kill anyone who dared lay a hand on me or my unborn child.
Chapter 1
Tala
Warmth radiates throughout my body as I sprint along the forest floor. Rays of sunlight cascade through the openings in the branches above. The drumming in my chest is light, encouraging, and moves me onward to nowhere in particular. This is a run of pleasure not duty. I have no responsibilities, no worries; I am beholden to none. The scents of nature, dirt and greenery, are subtle, but soothing. My form is stronger than it’s ever been, and I want for nothing but the earth beneath my paws.
Before I know it, it’s nearly dawn, and the call of the moon abates. It’s time to return to my human form, but my muscles freeze as I try to shift back. The heaviness in my limbs begins to ache. What’s happening?
A long echoing howl permeates my ears, and I turn to see a dark wolf standing before me. Her fur is slick and black and appears so soft I can’t help imagining petting her. But I still can’t shift. My own fur on the back of my neck begins to tingle. Her stare doesn’t waver as she cocks her head to the side assessing me, a very human gesture. She smiles, and my aching limbs begin to shake. Why? Hot liquid pours down my leg, and she smiles.
My tongue goes dry, and a cold sensation radiates out from my core. She knows, but why didn’t I?
She’s me.
As soon as I come to the realization, she charges. I clench my jaw. The shadows of the forest begin to close in as night descends once more. My breaths come quicker, sharper even, and I can’t hear anything but my heartbeat battering against my eardrums. I can’t move.
Her form grows as she descends upon me, clawing at my eyes then clamping her jowls around my neck before devouring me completely.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
I jolt upright soaked in sweat or worse. My mouth is still dry, and my hands slightly shake. As quickly as I can, I swipe my finger across my phone screen to “dismiss” my alarm. “What the actual fuck?” I say aloud, but I know I shouldn’t have this reaction to the dream anymore.
It’s been three months since Carl’s disappearance. Three months since Aunt Angie’s strange request...Three months since Grandma and Ray were murdered. Their deaths
No one gets over these kinds of tragedies overnight, but everyone has been trying to fall into some sate of normalcy or new-normal. Even Aunt Angie, whom I’ve been somewhat avoiding, has managed the occasional smile. Just as I was getting comfortable, the nightmares started. They’ve plagued me every night for the last three weeks. Are they my punishment for trying to live? Are their spirits spiteful toward me? Will they ever let me rest in peace? I never thought I’d be the kind of person who believes in ghosts, but death brings new demons.
I release a shaky breath. The dead are always present, even when they’re gone.
But today is about the living.
My brother Michael is competing in the county’s annual fishing derby today. I’ll be fishing, too, but I’ve been too old to compete for a few years. Even after I aged out, I’ve gone every year with Michael. My cousins competed until they were too old as well, except Carlie who quit at eight because fish were “icky.” Tradition demands the family together for a cookout afterward…at Aunt Angie’s.
I still haven’t given her a straight answer about turning her into a werewolf, and I’ve avoided her as much as I can since she asked. But it’s getting harder. With such a close-knit family, we’ll always run into each other unless I stop attending all family and pack events, which isn’t going to happen. I might as well come to terms with the reality that I have to give her an answer soon.
Once I get out of bed, I peel sweat-soaked pjs off my dampened skin. I know I’m about to get dirty again, but I shower anyway. In less than an hour I’m at the local carnival grounds, which also hosts the fishing derby. The grass is worn from the high traffic. Kids aging from four to sixteen run about only partially supervised and wearing startlingly bright tees with a bass and “25th Annual Fishing Derby” on the front. Squeals of excitement draw my attention to the water’s edge where a little girl with a lavender-colored bow in her hair claps her hands excitedly as her father takes a tiny sunfish off the hook. He holds the fins back, allowing the child to briefly brush her fingers along its scales before he gently tosses it back into the water.
“Tala!”
I shift my gaze farther down the riverbank where my mom waves her arms exuberantly over her head to get my attention. Smiling, I increase my pace until I’m close enough for her to slam her bony body into me for a tight hug.
“I’ve got some fold out chairs over here,” she says. “Wanna try and get some color with me?” she adds. I raise an eyebrow. She’s wearing cut-off shorts and an orange tee with a gray visor. That’ll be one hell of a tan. “Not that you need it,” she continues, confusing my expression for a perceived look of offense.
“I’m all right.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs and lays back in her chair, which reclines, and pulls her visor over her eyes as if to nap. It must be one of those fifty-dollar Walmart chairs. Shnazzy.
Before I can sit, Michael and three friends approach. Mom must’ve been holding their fishing spot. He’s filled out in the last few months, so there may be hope for the kid after all. I swore he’d be lanky for life. He seems to be trying to grow a mustache, which isn’t coming in well. It’s patchy. Very patchy. Secretly, I call it the “creeper ‘stache,” but I don’t tell him this.
I wave at him, but his face is blank. He nods, lifts his hand up loosely, and says “hi” but quickly looks away while continuing on the steady pace of his friends. I guess he’s too old and too cool to publicly greet me now. Okay. Teenagers, I guess? I try not to let it bother me and set my rod down between me and Mom before laying back in my chair. Closing my eyes, I try to catch up on some of the rest I’ve missed when high-pitched audio feedback fills the air.
“Sorry about that…” a woman nervously giggles over the old speakers mounted on wooden telephone poles. “Welcome to the Twenty-Fifth Annual County Fishing Derby!” She goes on explaining the criteria for a fish. The many eels the kids may catch do not count. Parents may assist kids in casting, but they must reel in their own fish. Only fish caught inside the perimeter marked by orange signs count. No fish caught before the starting horn or after the ending horn count. For each age group there will be three trophies, first, second, and third place; then an overall catch of the day. She explains where the weighing and measuring stations are and when the raffle winners will be called. “…Ready, everyone?”
The crowd scattered all over our fairgrounds and along the bank of the Choptank yells a resounding, “Yeah!”
“Okay! TEN. NINE…” The participants count down with her with the smaller kids holding their hands up to add their fingers to the countdown.
“…THREE. TWO—” An airhorn drowns out all other sound and signals the beginning of the tournament. Kids and parents quickly begin casting and the carnival grounds go quieter than any one would think possible for a kids’ event. The silence doesn’t last long.
Michael and his friends fish a few yards away from us. They laugh and chat, but I don’t make out what they say, and I don’t try to. It’s comforting to know Michael is coming out of his shell and isn’t allowing the negativity in our family to consume his life. The smile on his face appears genuine. He’s happy… despite being the only one in his group of friends who hasn’t reeled in a fish.
The hair on the back of my neck stands, and my stomach twists in knots. My body registers my unease before I have time to process it mentally. I feel like I’m being watched, which is absurd. I’m at a family fishing derby. I’m surrounded by kids. Still, I shift in my chair, no longer able to find a comfortable position, but I refuse to look around. I know there will be no one there. I haven’t felt this paranoid since…I shake my head. This isn’t the same. Nothing is happening. No one has seen Carl (I refuse to call him uncle) in months. I won’t look around. If I do, I’m giving in to irrationality.
But the knot in my stomach tightens, hardening to solid pain. My body begins to tingle. I can’t help myself. I turn around, looking in the direction where I know someone is watching me from.
No one. Not even a kid. It’s a completely empty spot on the carnival grounds. I swallow the lump I didn’t realize had formed in my throat.
Mom’s snoring grows loud then settles again. I shake my head at her and at myself.
I turn my attention back to Michael, who finally gets a bite. He reels it in as his friends cheer him on, but the end of his line comes back too quickly, snipped by a fish. “Damn bluegills!” one of the friends, another slender guy also named Michael, yells in frustration before putting an arm around the only girl in the group. Michael’s face flushes red, and his nostrils flare as he hastily rebaits his line. He’s focused and seems to recover from his moment of anger. As he casts, the last young man in the group, a larger kid named Teddy, says something to Michael. Michael smiles broadly, and his ears redden before he quickly looks away. My eyes widen at the suspicion. Oh.
With less than an hour of the derby left, Michael’s group has only caught four tiny fish and an eel. The dire urgency of the situation settles in as the group quiets and focuses on the water.
As my body also relaxes, the feeling of being watched slowly builds again. I don’t allow it to consume me. Instinct and logic battle. My gut knows someone will be there, while my mind knows no one will be. I quickly turn to prove my gut wrong only to see a slender woman standing in the open field. My breath catches in my chest. Her long gray hair and patchwork skirt billows slowly in the wind. My mouth falls open. I’m not close enough to make out every part of her, but I know she is watching me. I lick my dry lips and consider calling out, then condemn the insanity of the idea.
