Pack of secrets, p.14
Pack of Secrets, page 14
“Come here.” He held out an arm.
I slid closer, tucking myself against his hard body. Dropping his arm, he ensconced me in a warm, protective cocoon that smelled of childhood memories all grown up and matured. Tali sometimes hugged me, but nobody held me the way Mackiel did. Heat stung my eyes, and that damn lump lodged in my throat again. This time, I breathed through it, borrowing strength from my friend to combat my weakness as I continued working out the knots in his spirit. Minutes passed in silence, with only the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. Weariness tugged at me, so I withdrew from his spirit. For now. With Mackiel home for good, I could work more of it out later.
“You’re not a weak link,” he said finally.
“Right,” I grunted. “Just a shifter who can’t shift.”
He squeezed me and then planted a kiss on my forehead. I stilled, unsure of what to think of the gesture. My friend had never kissed me anywhere before. Sure, this was just a friendly forehead kiss that I was doubtlessly reading too much into, but it felt intimate somehow.
“Hey, remember that time you saved my ass?” he asked.
Tilting my head, I looked up at him. “Which time?”
He grinned, unable to dispute the truth of my statement. “The time I got shocked and burned for breaking into that tunnel we were supposed to stay out of.”
During Mackiel’s childhood ‘girls are gross’ phase, he used to sometimes ditch me to hang out with a group of like-minded boys. One time, Rust challenged me to see how long I could follow the boys before getting caught. I’d been trailing Mackiel and his merry band of miscreants for two days when a series of bad choices and ridiculous dares ended in him disobeying a handwritten ‘DO NOT ENTER’ notice from my father and triggering a magical trap.
There was an explosion, and the boys fled, leaving my fear-shifted friend in a heap of scorched flesh and bloody fur. I stayed behind, cleaned up the mess, and got him out of there before the trap’s caster—which had to be my aunt—arrived.
“You were eight,” Mackiel said. “But you were clear-headed enough to take charge of the situation, set my leg, and cover our tracks. You didn’t tattle. You didn’t try to hold it over me; you just saved the day.”
“I’d been training with Rust for three years when that happened. I followed protocol.”
“And we didn’t get caught. The alpha knew it was us, of course. He asked me about it, you know. After the Bloodrite. He thought you were the one who tripped the alarm.”
It was just like my father to wait until Mackiel couldn’t lie to him to get the scoop. Forcing my jaw to unclench, I asked, “What did you tell him?”
“The truth.” Mackiel frowned. “Not like I had much choice. I admitted I’d tripped the alarm. He wanted to know about you, asked if you went down the tunnel and if you saw anything. I told him you cleaned up the mess and collected me, and then we got the hell out of there.”
A memory tickled the back of my mind. There was something about that door… something I’d intended to go back and investigate, but I’d forgotten all about it. Even now, I couldn’t remember where it was. As I tried to focus, pressure built behind my temples. Wincing, I gave up, and the strange tension vanished.
“Why didn’t you tell me when the alpha cornered you?” I asked.
“He didn’t corner me, he just asked,” Mackiel said. “And I don’t know. I was embarrassed. It was the first thing he asked me after the ceremony, and I discovered I couldn’t lie to him. To be honest, I felt a little… violated. Don’t get me wrong, I know the alpha does what he does to protect us, but the way he pulled that secret out of me like it was nothing… it was a wake-up call. And I couldn’t tell you how he’d pulled the secret from me without admitting the ceremony took away my ability to keep things from him, and you know we’re not allowed to talk about what happens after the Bloodrite with anyone who hasn’t gone through it. Also, I knew things would change between us the minute I told you. That you wouldn’t be able to trust me anymore.” He paused as the truth of his comment hung in the air, a dark cloud I couldn’t soothe away. “I should have told you, but I didn’t want to send it in a text.”
“I get it,” I said.
He watched me for a minute before standing and offering me his hand. “Come on.”
I eyed the outstretched appendage. “Where?”
Chuckling, he said, “Trust issues, much? You need a distraction, and I have an idea.”
Since his ideas usually led to bad decisions and a boatload of trouble, I let him help me up. Oddly enough, he didn’t release my hand. Tugging me behind him, he marched past the balance beam, the weight bench, and a mismatched set of free weights to stop in front of the water table in the corner. Still not releasing my hand, he poured two cups of water and handed me one.
“Hydrate first.” Lifting his cup to toast mine, he added, “Bottoms up.”
We slammed back the drinks like pilfered vodka from his parents’ stash. When we finished, he led me to the weapon rack mounted on the north wall. Pausing in front of wooden practice swords, daggers, maces, and a set of pugil sticks, he cracked that crooked smile again.
“I have been waiting four years to kick your ass again.” He plucked a pugil stick off the rack and tossed it to me.
Unamused, I glared at him. “The word again implies you’ve kicked my ass at least once before, and we both know that’s not the case.”
The stick flew above my head, forcing me to jump and snatch it out of the air.
“Sorry,” he said, but his grin had reached his eyes. “I forget how tiny you are.”
“Yeah, well, no matter how much taller you are than me, I’m sure you still fight like a little bitch.”
Unleashing his stick, he spun it around to warm up his wrists. “What a sexist thing to say, Chip. I see you’ve learned no manners while I was gone.” He threw his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Thank God.”
Laughing, I lunged backward, creating space between us so he couldn’t get in any cheap shots before I was ready. “You gonna flap your jaw all night, or are you gonna step up and show me what you learned on the farm?”
“Little girl, always trying to antagonize the big bad wolves.”
I rolled my shoulders and bounced on the balls of my feet. “Since it’s just the two of us, level with me. That is the only book in the library you can read, isn’t it?”
He gasped. “Mean. That would hurt if book worms didn’t have such weak swings.”
“Oh yeah? Speaking of weakness, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about that day I saved your ass.”
He eyed me, no doubt sensing a trap. “What’s that?”
“Was that… urine I smelled? Did you really piss yourself?”
He squared his shoulders, and all traces of amusement vanished. “I was ten and had just been nuked by a witch’s spell.”
Unable to help myself, I laughed.
“Low blow. Even for you, shorty. I can’t believe you brought that up.”
“Why? Your big, bad ego can’t handle it?”
He leaped across the room onto the balance beam in one fluid motion and steadied himself, his expression full of challenge. “Why don’t you get your ass over here, and I’ll show you what my big, bad ego can handle.”
The side of his lips curled up in a smirk that I planned to wipe the floor with.
Springing onto the beam, I grinned maniacally and swung my weapon in wide arcs to the left and right, warming up. Rust had introduced me to pugil stick fighting when I was six. He’d tossed me a two-foot-long wooden bar heavily padded with foam at both ends, explaining that the military used the sticks to teach young soldiers how to fight with a musket or bayonet. Yes, musket. I was young, but we’d already gone over weapons. Extensively. Recalling that muskets were muzzle-loaded long guns replaced by rifles in the 1800s, I’d stared at him in shock until I could finally form the question I was dying to ask.
“Just how old are you?”
In answer, my mentor had promptly thwapped me upside the head with his pugil stick, sending me flying off the balance beam. “Old enough to block, smartass.”
Now, our pugil sticks were about six feet long, and the dense foam padding on either side was worn and lumpy with age. As Mackiel and I squared off, he aimed his weapon at me accusingly. “No shots in the junk. I mean it.”
Fighting back my grin, I nodded. “Okay, fine. Boobs are off-limits, too.”
His gaze predictably went to my chest, and I attacked. Sliding in under his outstretched stick, I whacked his front leg and jumped back. He managed to counter in time to barely graze my shoulder. When I straightened, he winced.
I glanced at my shoulder. “Was that supposed to hurt?”
“Not nearly as much as your face hurts me.” He launched himself at me. I threw up my stick in time to deflect. The instant his downward motion halted, I jabbed, nailing him in the arm. With no momentum, my attack didn’t have enough force behind it. He countered, and I took a blow to the hip. Ouch. That one hurt. Time to stop messing around. He swung his stick around, but this time, I blocked. Reverberations jarred my arms.
“Really?” I asked, surprised by how much of his weight he’d put behind the strike. “That’s how you’re gonna play it?”
He grinned. “If you can’t handle the heat, feel free to step out of my kitchen.”
His kitchen? Not today. I threw a stiff jab toward his stomach. He blocked, knocking my stick away and testing my balance. As I wobbled, he attacked again, but I recovered and ducked. He overextended, and I swung upward, grazing his chin.
We continued trading strikes and insults until the alarm went off on my watch. It was time to clean up and get ready for tonight. I jumped off the balance beam, and he landed beside me.
“I gotta go shower and get ready,” I said, too tired and sore to be anxious about tonight.
He draped an arm around my neck and tugged me against him, kissing my forehead again. Apparently, this was something he did now. “’Kay. I’m gonna go spend some time with Tali, but I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks.” I still couldn’t believe my father had brought Mackiel back to help me, but I wouldn’t look that gift wolf in the mouth. “And thanks for this,” I said, racking my pugil stick. “I needed it.”
“I know. I’m here now, and I got you, Chip. We’ll get through this.”
I didn’t feel nearly as confident, but I grabbed my backpack and headed out. It was time to get ready to try and free my wolf.
Grace
Before The Eradication, Aunt Sereana lived on the east side of I5, in what was now Seattle-Victa. When the land was fractured, she had to choose to either leave her home for good or stay and travel outside the boundary whenever she wanted to access her magic. Without the continued use of magic to sustain her, Sereana would age, wither, and die. So, she left her home on the Mondeine side of the fracture and struck a bargain with my father. She would neutralize and remove the silver from the area, and in turn, the pack would allow her to select a home and live in the district under their protection. Ignoring the countless still-standing houses and condos available, my aunt chose the Pike Place Market as her home.
The Market once served as a downtown storefront for local farmers, craftspeople, and merchants and had numerous restaurant kitchens for her concoctions, a workable rooftop garden, and access to the crystals, books, and random witchy materials left behind in the Market’s stalls. It also had a breathtaking view of the Sound, but the property wasn’t exactly cozy.
“This place still creeps me out,” Mackiel grumbled as the cluster of buildings came into view. His body was coiled so tight I wouldn’t have been surprised if he started bouncing like a spring. “Thought that since I’m older and bigger now, it’d be different, but nope. Still makes my skin crawl.”
“It’s even worse on the inside,” I assured him. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” He should be out celebrating the full moon with the rest of the pack. “Your family has barely gotten to see you since you arrived, and I can do this on my own.”
Full moon runs were a sacred tradition. The pack would meet up at the den’s entrance to initiate the run, and every able-bodied shifter would go furry. Then, they’d follow the alpha around the district, marking the territory and letting any intruders know our people were numerous, healthy, and prepared to defend. Since I couldn’t sprout fur and run around peeing on things, I waited with the pregnant females and pups at the park. When the wolves returned, filthy and exhausted, everyone would hunker down in the park for the night. It was the one night a month we all slept above ground.
Before Mackiel had moved out to the ranch, he’d return from his run and seek me out, crashing on my bedroll with me. My friend was a snuggler. I’d wake up sweltering beside a massive brown wolf, usually with a paw in my face or a snout in my armpit. His complete and total disregard for personal boundaries used to drive me crazy, but then he left, and nobody invaded my space anymore. That’s when I discovered what loneliness truly felt like.
But I also learned I was perfectly capable of doing hard shit on my own.
“I know you’re used to going solo, but you shouldn’t have to. You’re pack. Besides, friends don’t let friends venture into witch’s lairs alone.”
Now he was being dramatic. “I’ll be perfectly safe in my aunt’s home. She won’t hurt me.” Okay, that was a lie. Her attempts to bring out my wolf had caused me a great deal of physical pain over the years, so I amended my statement. “She won’t kill me.”
Mackiel didn’t look convinced. “Really reassuring, Chip.”
I rolled my eyes. “If she wanted me dead, she’s had plenty of opportunities to take me out.”
“Not makin’ me feel any better. You realize this isn’t how normal people talk about their family, right?”
“Yay, me. One more reason I’m a freak.”
“You’re not a freak. You just have… a shady aunt. Literally, I mean, look at this place.” He gestured at the Market. “Why is it so dark? There’s a full moon for Chrissake. And not a cloud in the sky.”
He was right. Even if the moon was hidden, I should be able to make out the recesses of doorways and windows with my enhanced sight, but I couldn’t see jack. Unnatural shadows shrouded the entire property. Squinting, I could barely discern the outline of the iconic ‘Public Market’ lettering and clock erected over the main entrance. The sign’s lights had burned out long ago, and the ‘M’ of ‘Market’ now hung askew. Every time a breeze blew, it sent an eerie whistling sound through the metal, making me want to turn tail and skedaddle.
“And it’s so… dead. Nothing living gets close. Not even the plants.”
We were in the Emerald City, nicknamed for its year-round greenery even before the influx of magic from fracturing gave it a boost. Now the entire district looked more like verdant ruins than an abandoned city.
Except Pike Place Market.
To an outsider, it must look like the building was wrapped in an invisible forcefield that neither animals nor plants dared breach.
“Seriously, why does she keep it so damn creepy?” Gold flickered in Mackiel’s dark eyes as he fought his wolf for control.
“She doesn’t like company,” I said.
“I get that, but why keep the plants and animals away?”
Witch magic was… unnatural. Unlike shifters who drew on internal energy to shift and heal, witches siphoned vitality from external sources. Living sources. She extracted the life forces of plants and animals alike. As a result, animals intuitively stayed away. Any plants she didn’t want in her bubble wouldn’t live long enough to grow roots.
Honestly, witch magic scared the shit out of me.
“You don’t want to know,” I replied. When he started arguing, I threw up a hand to stop him. “Trust me. The less you know, the better you’ll sleep at night.”
I wished someone had given me the option of ignorance. My thoughts drifted back to the first time I’d seen my aunt drain the life from a rat. I was a child, no more than seven or eight, and we were in her rooftop garden, where she was teaching me about the plants she allowed to grow.
Leaving me by one of the raised beds, Aunt Sereana carried a small cage and a mortar and pestle to the space she’d cleared for spell casting. Curious, I climbed up on the bronze pig by the raised beds and watched as she flitted around the garden, collecting herbs and flowers. After using the mortar and pestle to grind them into a paste, she drew a chalk circle around herself and the cage. She began to cast, chanting in the musical, unfamiliar language of magic. As the volume and speed of her words increased, she opened the cage and removed a rat, cradling it in one hand. Her spell reached a crescendo, and she flipped the rat over on its back in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, metal glinted. The rat squeaked, and a thin red line stretched across its belly. The line darkened, and I watched in horror as blood pooled across the wound.
Flipping the rodent back onto its belly, Sereana leaned over the pestle and wrung the blood out of the critter like it was a sponge. But that wasn’t all she took. As she chanted, a gossamer current streamed from the rodent, swirling around the bowl like an ethereal spoon, mixing the blood with the herb and flower paste. I gaped, frozen and unable to avert my gaze as the empty rat corpse caved in on itself like a popped balloon before its texture changed entirely. Holding her hand up, Sereana spread her fingers to reveal a pile of dark grey dust. It caught the breeze and fluttered away. When her hands were empty, she dusted them off, faced me, and smiled.
I passed out.
When I came to, I was lying on the floor at the feet of the bronze pig, and Sereana hovered over me, concern filling her eyes.
“What happened?” I asked, my head aching from the fall as what I’d witnessed came back to me. “You… you killed that rat and turned it to dust.” Indignation filled my veins. She’d taken a life. That had to be wrong.
