6. Jace

The sun had barely crested the horizon as I tiptoed out of the house the next morning. Kirsten had been up late the night before. I'd heard her rummaging around in her room until well past one. I'd had trouble sleeping, my brain too full of the hundred different ways she could have been hurt. The nightmarish visions flashed through my brain until I'd finally fallen asleep.

After stepping off the porch, I shifted and ran into the forest. Waylan and the rest of the council were meeting me where we'd dumped the dead wolf. We needed to discuss what had happened and handle a few other matters. With Stephanie off the council and in a self-imposed exile, we had no town doctor. No one had even seen her since the last town meeting.

Abigail had put forth Reese Dunnely's name as Stephanie's replacement. His family had lived in Crestwood for over a hundred years, and he'd recently finished his doctor's residency. He was the most logical choice. This would be a nice audition for the spot on the council.

To my surprise, everyone was gathered when I arrived. Waylan had already led them to where we had dumped the body.

"Morning, boss," Langston said as I shifted back. "Mighty early, ain't it?"

"Easier for us all to get away without questions if we do it early," I said.

"Jace," Reese said, stepping forward to shake my hand.

"Morning, Reese. Are you ready for this?"

"I hope so," he said. "It's an honor, honestly."

"Where's the body?" Abigail asked. "Let's let the boy doctor here do his thing."

Reese's cheeks went slightly pink, and he nodded. "Waylan filled us in on what happened yesterday."

Langston snorted. "Whole town knows what happened. That damn Kyro couldn't stop running his mouth about how amazing Kirsten was for healing him. Dude's got a schoolboy crush from the sounds of it now."

"This way," Waylan said, leading us off the path deeper into the woods.

We walked in silence for a few yards before Abi tilted her head, sniffing the air. "What the hell?"

"Yup," I said dryly. "That's why I wanted you all here. You'll see in a second."

A few more steps brought us to the small ditch where we'd put the body. The wolf, eyes now milky, lay in a tangled pile of limbs.

"It smells… sick," Abi said.

"Yeah." Langston winced. "It's not the decomp. That's bad, but there's something else underlying that. Like it's feral. Like its insides are rotted or something."

"That's what we thought," I said, then nodded to Reese. "It's part of why I agreed to have you join us here. I wanted someone with the know-how to take a look."

Reese knelt next to the body and prodded the wounds. "He didn't shift back to his human form upon death. That alone makes me think you're right that he's feral."

"I'd noticed as well," I said. Almost all shifters transformed into their human form upon death. It was nearly unheard of for it not to happen.

Reese pulled open the eyelids, revealing more of the milky eyeball beneath. He slid a small penlight from his pocket and shone it into the eye. After a few more inspections, Reese stood and looked at us.

"He's lost his humanity. You were right. He's feral."

The rest of us shared a confused look. My eyes bounced from Waylan to Abigail to Langston, who looked the most confused.

"How's that possible?" Langston asked.

Going feral was an incredibly rare thing for wolves to succumb to. In all my years, I'd never met one. As rare as it was, all shifters still feared it, like the boogeyman under the bed.

"Only two ways it can happen," Reese said. "Obviously, one is staying in your wolf form for too long without shifting back. Usually longer than forty-eight hours. That's the low end—some shifters could stay in that form for up to a week before their mind and humanity break down. The other"—he gave us a meaningful look—"is through magic. A curse."

"Well, that can't be it," Abi said. "Kirsten is the only witch around. Hell, I don't think there's another real witch in the state. We all know how rare they are."

I began to nod along with her reasoning, then froze. My mind reeled. An idea, and an awful one at that, had sprung to my mind.

"Fuck," I muttered, and turned my eyes to Waylan. "I need to talk to Kirsten. Now."

Before any of them could ask me why, I'd shifted and was sprinting back to my house. Abigail's words echoed through my head over and over. I don't think there's another real witch in the state.

Except that wasn't true. A very real witch lived in St. Louis. The witch who'd guided and mentored Kirsten when she learned about her powers. Tinsley. What if Eren knew her, too?

The last thing I wanted was to scare Kirsten, so when I neared the house, I shifted back into my human form and schooled my face into a calm expression as I stepped through the front door, anxiety and fear roiling in my stomach.

Kirsten was in the kitchen, fixing herself a bowl of cereal.

"Hey there," I said. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Kirsten said through a yawn. "I was up late. Where were you? I thought you were still in bed."

I licked my lips, unsure how to proceed without scaring her or freaking her out. I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms.

"Um, random question. Have you spoken to your friend Tinsley lately? The witch with that store?"

Kirsten froze as she poured milk into her bowl, her head moving slowly as she turned to look at me. "Why?"

Well, fuck.

"I just wondered if you had," I said with a shrug.

There was a reason I'd never tried out for drama class in high school. I was a terrible actor, and Kirsten saw right through me.

"What's wrong? Is she in trouble?" she asked as she returned the milk to the fridge.

With a sigh, I held my hands up in surrender. "Nothing to be worried about yet, but can you just give her a call? It would ease my mind."

Kirsten's face pinched in concentration as she watched me. Sighing, she grabbed her phone off the counter and punched in the number for the store. She put the phone on speaker as it rang.

I glanced at the clock. 8:30. Would she be up yet? Surely, if she operated a normal nine-to-five business, she'd already be there. Please, I thought. Please be there.

A moment later, the line clicked. "Inner Enchantments, this is Tinsley."

Before I could stop myself, a sigh burst from my lips. Relief, heavy and uncomfortable, washed over me.

"Hey, Tinsley. It's Kirsten."

"Oh, hey. How are you? Is everything all right?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Kirsten said, turning an irritated glare on me. "My friend Jace is here. I think he needs to talk to you."

I suppressed a wince at the words my friend.

"Tinsley?" I said. "Jace Stone here. We've never met, but I've heard a lot about you."

"Same about you, Mr. Stone. Now, may I ask what this is all about?" A note of suspicion tinged her voice.

"Have you ever had any dealings with a guy named Eren Miller?" I asked. I gave her a quick physical description.

Kirsten stiffened. She could probably tell where this was going. The last thing she'd want would be for her new friend to be pulled into this bullshit. If she hated Eren now, I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be if she found out he'd done something to a friend or loved one. She might explode.

"I don't recognize the name or description," Tinsley said. "I can be on the lookout for him, though. Is this guy bad news or something?"

"The worst," I said.

When Tinsley spoke again, fear had crept into her voice. "Is he some kind of witch hunter? Do I have to go into hiding?"

Her fear made me feel like shit. I'd freaked this poor woman out for nothing. Now she'd be looking over her shoulder all the time because I'd jumped to conclusions. Her immediate suggestion that she'd need to go into hiding had piqued my interest, though.

"Have you had to hide before, Tinsley?" I asked. Would shifters and humans still be hunting witches? After all these years? I supposed it was possible. Waylan and I had been searching for a witch to help me remove the curse, and from how terrified Tinsley sounded, it made it all the more likely that there were still witch hunters out there.

The other witch was silent for so long that I was about to ask Kirsten if the connection had dropped. But then Tinsley spoke, quietly and timidly, as though she was afraid of being overheard.

"I did once. A long time ago. It was about fifty years back. A shifter pack found out I was a real witch. They took me. Kidnapped me."

Kirsten gasped. That hit a little too close to home. I had to admit the parallels were astounding. A pack had found Tinsley and abducted her?

"How long were you with them?" I asked.

"A little over a year and a half. I was still young, and they were a small pack. I managed to get away one night. I ran. I ran and never looked back. I gave up my old life and headed west. I settled in St. Louis. I never want to go back to that, Mr. Stone. In fact, I opened this shop as part of my cover. If I hide in plain sight as a human practicing Wicca, then people are less likely to think me a real witch. I learned to mask my magic and the scent it causes that shifters can sense. It's how I stay safe. It's dangerous being an unclaimed witch."

"Unclaimed?" Kirsten said.

I glanced at her, the words hitting me like a blow. Kirsten locked eyes with me, and a tremble of our connection bolted through me.

"Yes," Tinsley went on. "It's like I told you. Shifters have fated mates, but witches have a parallel connection. We have something called tethers. Our own magical pairing. It can help increase our powers, but the magic within us also reacts to the other person. A tether is supposed to be someone who will protect the witch. This goes back to the days when witches and shifters were inexorably linked. As that relationship eroded, the tethers began to manifest more often in human partners. Regardless, the connection is unbreakable and powerful. It's something every witch hopes for. For the protection that comes with it, but also to share their life with one who knows them so well. I have yet to find that."

Kirsten and I were still looking into each other's eyes, neither of us able to look away. I was her tether—she'd told me as much—and she was my mate. I didn't want to let go of that. I could only pray she felt the same.

I cleared my throat. "Tinsley, I don't know you well, but Kirsten vouches for you. Should you ever feel unsafe, I want you to know that Crestwood will be a safe haven for you. For any witch. I can't fix what happened in the past, but I can start mending fences now. You'll be safe here, and no one will force you to do anything. I promise you that."

"Thank you," Tinsley said, her voice cracking. "Maybe I'll take you up on that. For now, you need to do your part and keep your own witch safe. Kirsten? Take care of yourself. Hopefully, we can catch up sometime soon."

"That would be nice," Kirsten said, then ended the call. She turned to me. "Okay, what the hell is going on?"

I sighed and took a seat beside her. "I headed out around dawn to meet with the council. We inspected the wolf's body, the one who attacked us yesterday. We brought a new doctor along to give his opinion. He's positive we were right. The wolf was feral."

"I heard you all saying that yesterday, but I'm not totally sure what it means," Kirsten said, frowning. "Movies and TV shows about shifters make ferals out to be, like, werewolves. Bloodthirsty killers and stuff."

"Not entirely accurate. Hollywood likes to embellish. It's simply a shifter who's spent too much time in his wolf form. Very difficult to do. Some do it out of depression after the loss of a loved one or mate. Others are cast out of their packs, and the loss of that structure and family drives them to it.

"Regardless, there's only two ways Eren could have made it happen. One, he used magic. That's why I came running. You and Tinsley are the only true witches I know of within a thousand miles of here. I thought Eren had taken her and forced her to do this."

Kirsten gasped. "Are you serious?"

"It's what I was afraid of, but Tinsley is safe, and I believed her when she said she hadn't seen Eren. That means the only other possibility is that he's forcing wolves to shift and remain in their wolf forms."

"How can he do that?" Kirsten asked. "Wouldn't that be difficult?"

"That's the question. How, and more importantly, why? Ferals are nearly uncontrollable. They're out of their minds. I'm surprised Tank and Kyro managed to scare off the second wolf. There must have been just enough humanity left deep in its subconscious to give it a glimmer of self-preservation."

"So basically, Eren is somehow even more of a psycho than we thought?"

"Somehow," I agreed.

The rest of the day passed with no drama or danger. Waylan and I escorted Kirsten into town to give Harley a quick tour of Crestwood. The entire time, Waylan kept stealing glances at Harley, though by lunchtime, he managed to speak to her without stumbling over every word that came out of his mouth. After eating, we took them to the cabin so Kirsten could pick up a few things she needed. By that evening, I was emotionally exhausted from the last two days and decided to turn in early while Kirsten and Harley sat in the lounge, talking and eating pizza.

My slumber was torn apart like teeth shredding flesh when the screams started. Piercing, panicked calls that swept the dreamless unconscious away and left me fumbling and nearly falling out of bed.

Kirsten.

"No!" she screeched. "No, don't take me. Don't take meeeee!" The last word drew out in a gut-wrenching shout.

Abject terror lanced into my heart. Was Eren here? In my fucking house? How? I had men stationed outside to guard it even while we slept.

Nearly tripping over my feet, I sprinted out my door, almost colliding with Harley as she stumbled from her own room, the fear and confusion in her eyes matching my own. Kirsten continued to scream and shout, and I slammed my shoulder into her door, not bothering with the knob. The frame shattered, and the door swung inward.

What I saw filled me with relief but also heart-rending sadness. It was only a nightmare.

Kirsten thrashed about in her sleep. My busting down the door hadn't woken her. Her blankets and sheets twisted and bunched around her. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she kicked out rhythmically with her left foot. I could almost picture her dream. Running from Eren and his men. I gritted my teeth and went to her.

Harley followed, taking up the spot on her left as I took the right. Harley patted her cheek. "Kirsten," she said firmly. "Wake up, babe. Come on. You're sleeping. Wake up. It's just a dream."

I took Kirsten's hand and massaged the muscles in her forearm, trying to bring her around gently. "It's okay," I murmured. "We're here. You're safe."

At the sound of my voice, Kirsten's eyes snapped open. For a moment, she stared at us like we were strangers. Was she still be asleep? If so, did we look like monsters to her? Giant beasts in her room ready to tear her apart?

"Shhh," I cooed. "It's fine. It's fine." I brushed her sweaty hair from her face.

Her thrashing stopped, and her eyes slid shut as her breathing evened out.

"She's still asleep," Harley whispered.

"I'll stay with her," I said. "In case it happens again."

Harley looked at Kirsten, her bottom lip clasped between her teeth. "I've never seen her do something like that."

"She'll be fine. Go back to bed," I said.

With one last worried glance at Kirsten, Harley left, stepping over the broken wood of the door. I lay there for several minutes, looking at Kirsten's face illuminated by the rays of moonlight, wishing I could do something to erase the memories she was suffering from. My rage built to a towering inferno, and when I fell asleep with Kirsten in my arms, I dreamed of all the ways I'd hurt Eren. The sounds of his screams lulled me into a deep, restful sleep.

"Why are you in my bed?"

My eyes snapped open. Kirsten was sitting up, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Outside, the sky was the grayish blue of early morning.

"You had a nightmare. A bad one."

"I did?" She scrunched up her face.

"Yeah." I rubbed my eyes. "Harley and I came to check on you. When we couldn't get you to wake up, I decided to stay with you in case you had another bad dream." I paused. "Um, do you want me to leave?"

Kirsten rolled her eyes and pouted. "It's not like I don't like having you in my bed. You're making it sound like I think you stink or something. I was just wondering why you were here."

I fought back a smile. "Are you okay? Did you have another dream?"

"No, no, it wasn't that. I just woke up. What was my dream about, anyway? It must have been bad if you and Harley both came in here. Was I moaning or something?"

Moaning? If only it had been that simple. "It was pretty bad."

"Like shouting?"

"More like screaming, thrashing, clawing the sheets, everything in between."

"Holy shit," she breathed, flopping back down on her pillow. "I don't remember any of that."

I was grateful for that. It was a blessing Kirsten didn't have to relive that nightmare. It had sounded awful.

Kirsten turned to me and smiled faintly. "Did you really crawl in bed with me to help fight off nightmares?"

"I'd fight anything and anyone to keep you safe. Real dangers, nightmares, and the monster under the bed if need be. All of it."

Her eyes stayed locked on mine for several seconds, hope shimmering in them. Then, blinking, she looked away, probably hoping I didn't see the emotion in her eyes. She might not have been sure about us, but I was. I'd do anything to prove it to her.

Kirsten fell back asleep a few minutes later. An idea occurred to me. Another way to show her how much she meant to me. If we were going to teach her to defend herself, I needed to find someone who could really help her. Someone who knew what they were doing, and someone Kirsten trusted.

I slid from the bed, making sure not to wake her. Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, I crept downstairs. I needed to make a phone call.