Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

brIAR

W e come to a stop in front of a white Victorian house. The teal door, gray roof, and wraparound porch are achingly familiar. Even the willow tree billowing in the wind out front floods me with memories that are more bitter than sweet now.

As I gaze up at the place all my happiest memories were made in, I wonder why I remembered my house and Mama but not Papa, Saint, or anything about supernaturals.

That's one of the questions we're trying to answer today. The Wyldharts and Saint are here with me to comb the house for any clues my mom left. There has to be a reason the deed to the house was in the safe-deposit box.

Malachi reaches the door first. He shoves the key Aunt Molly gave him into the lock and pushes the door open. It swings inward, its hinges creaking loudly as it does. When the Wyldharts and Saint start making their way inside, I follow reluctantly. I haven't been in my house since Mama was still alive, and I haven't made any happy memories in it since Papa died. It feels like all that's left for me here is pain and sorrow.

But I have answers to find. Taking a deep breath, I step over the threshold. My gaze bounces around the foyer's familiar light wood floors, curving staircase, warm gray walls, and antique rugs before landing on the piano in the family room. Tugged by some invisible thread, I'm moving toward the instrument without a conscious thought.

The old Steinway & Sons piano bench was one of Mama's favorite spots in the house. While the heavy drapes are drawn over the windows now, she would open them whenever she played, letting light spill in from outside. As a kid, I always thought she looked like an angel when she was at the piano, backlit by the sun.

She loved playing music, and she loved how much I enjoyed listening to her. I have so many memories of being a kid sitting on her lap as she played. It was always a treat when Papa would join in, his smooth, deep singing voice a perfect complement to the piano. He didn't enjoy singing much but would do it for my mom.

As I sit down, a lump forms in my throat as I think about how happy Mama would be that I took up playing piano. My fingers hover over the keys as I debate playing something. Unable to resist the urge, I close my eyes and start playing the only song that comes to mind—"Exile" by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver. I sing both parts softly, hoping the Wyldharts and Saint won't hear me.

Hawthorne Grove, this house, and my family used to be my home. Now, though, none of it seems to fit right. I don't really know if there is anywhere I fit anymore. Loneliness creeps into my bones as I sing, causing me to shiver slightly.

When I finish, I open my eyes to see all four of my mates watching me. Malachi's leaning against the cased opening to the kitchen, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. The sleeves of his navy long-sleeve shirt are pushed up, and one black boot is crossed over the other.

Xander's standing next to Malachi. He's also dressed down in dark jeans but with a black button-up. Bastian's slouched against the wall next to Malachi, and he's wearing his usual jeans, forest green tee, and a leather jacket. Saint's outfitted in much the same as yesterday in a gray long-sleeve tee, medium wash jeans, and dark boots.

My eyes connect with Malachi, who's watching me intently, and I duck my head. My cheeks burn at being caught checking them all out and them hearing me sing. "Sorry. I didn't mean for everyone to hear me. I know I'm not the best at singing."

"You're too hard on yourself. I know you struggle to sing the words on time because of APD, but your singing is beautiful." Looking up, I see Saint's lips tilted up on one side.

I raise my eyebrows at him in disbelief. I'm pretty sure I'm just as bad at it as I think I am. With my auditory processing issues, I can play an instrument with no problem because my hearing is excellent. But the part of my brain that processes words doesn't work the way a normal person's does, so singing on key and beat has always been challenging. I'm always slightly off of where I should be. "If you say so."

"He's right, pretty girl. Your singing is awesome." Bastian gives me a wide grin, and I can't help my small smile at his enthusiasm.

Standing up from the bench, I shake out my arms, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling weighing me down from playing Mama's piano. It doesn't work. Sighing, I walk over to the four of them. "What areas do you want to check?"

Malachi's mouth dips in a small frown as he takes in my slumped shoulders and drawn expression. "Bastian and I have the upstairs covered. Xander and Saint are planning to look around down here."

"I figured you could check the office, little shadow. That way you only have one room to go through." Saint comes over to stand behind me, sandwiching me between him and Malachi. I let my head fall against Saint's chest and close my eyes, trying to gather myself. He's thoughtful, wanting to make this whole ordeal less overwhelming for me.

My eyes pop open when I feel Malachi press up against my front. My gaze clashes with his navy one. "You don't have to look through any of the rooms, baby girl."

"I do, though. We're trying to find answers about my life, so I need to be involved." As much as Malachi wants to protect me from everything, there are some things he can't shield me from.

"Fine," he begrudgingly agrees, "but you call for one of us if you need anything."

I give him a small nod, and he steps back. He and Bastian head upstairs, while Saint walks into the kitchen. Xander wanders around the living room as I'm trying to work up the courage to go into my dad's office.

I make my way through the foyer and formal dining room to the office. Pushing open the dark wood door, I feel like I've stepped back in time as I breathe in Papa's warm cedar scent. Probably thanks to a spell, nothing has changed. His black leather executive chair, dark walnut desk, and the matching walnut bookcases that line all four walls are exactly the same. A plush Persian rug covers the floor, making the space feel warm and cozy. The dark wood bench with a light blue cushion under the bay window was always a favorite place of mine to curl up.

Walking around the room, I inspect the bookshelves for anything out of the ordinary, but I don't see anything other than the classic literature, Latin language books, and mage spell tomes that line all the shelves. I got my love of reading from both parents. While Mama preferred to read fiction, Papa loved the classics and nonfiction of just about any subject.

It would take forever to inspect the over a thousand books here. I decide to check out the desk before starting that daunting search. When I reach the desk, I'm surprised that I don't find even a speck of dust on its glossy surface. Yep, definitely a preservation spell. There's no other way everything would be in such good condition and dust free otherwise.

I hesitantly sit in my dad's chair. The leather creaks as I lower down on it, and the wheels squeak as they roll for the first time in years. Smoothing my hands over the wood top, I search for any clues that might be here. The desktop doesn't give me much. There's just an empty notebook, a jar of pens, and several framed pictures of Mama, Papa, and me. Unable to stand the silence, I pull my phone out and put on Chance Pe?a's "Bleeding Out," feeling a little like my heart is ripped open and pouring out blood being in my old house again.

Next, I start rifling through the six drawers, three on both sides. The top drawers don't contain anything interesting, just paperclips, extra pens, rubber bands, and other office supplies. Reaching the middle drawers, I find a bunch of notebooks. Most of them are blank. The few that aren't have nothing other than notes on books in them. I check the bottom right drawer next and find more of the same, notebooks and office supplies.

Feeling discouraged, I open the last drawer. At first glance, there's nothing helpful in here. As I'm pulling the notebooks out, one of them catches on the bottom of the drawer. I tug on the notebook, trying to free it. While the notebook comes free, the bottom of the drawer comes up too.

I gasp softly when I realize the drawer has a false bottom. Sitting on top of the stack of documents is a letter with my name written in large flowing letters. From the looping cursive, I know it's my mom's handwriting. My fingers shake as I pull out a letter similar to the one in the safe-deposit box.

Part of me isn't sure I really want to know what's in the letter. The last one led to major revelations that shook the foundation of what I thought my life was. This one will probably too. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I slip my thumb under the flap to open it. I delicately pluck the letter out, not wanting to damage it before I can examine it. Unfolding it, I start reading another letter from my mom.

My sweet Briar Rose,

I am so very sorry if you have to read this, baby. It's not fair that you lost both your father and me. You deserved so much more, and I'm sorry you got swept up in a war you're too young to really understand.

Hopefully Vale found this letter first and read my instructions to keep it from you until you're eighteen. If not, I would tell you to stop reading, but I know your curiosity will get the best of you.

I had to take your memories, Briar Rose, because you are one of the descendants of Dido, as am I. There are people who would and have killed for that information. Unfortunately, Patrick figured out our family secret somehow. That's why we moved to Wolves Hollow.

But what Patrick didn't know is that you are also the first mage-wolf hybrid in millennia. What used to be a common pairing, mixed species fated-mates groups, has died off as supernatural groups became increasingly insular. It is in part due to the threat of the growing non-magical population, along with a general distrust for other species.

Children from two different supernaturals are impossible if they are not from a fated-mates pairing. While this knowledge used to be well-known, leaders of each supernatural faction have destroyed many of the records of these pairings. Our family has the documents from Dido and her ancestors passed down throughout the generations, which is how we know about it.

Hybrids are extremely powerful, able to draw twice the amount of magic as others. You have magic both from your mage powers and from your wolf. That is another reason this knowledge was erased. Hybrids can overthrow even the most powerful leaders of the supernatural factions. They can do things that should be impossible.

I had to take your memories to prevent Patrick from finding this out. He thinks your father was your stepfather and doesn't know you're part mage. While we didn't teach you of this, your memories had enough information in them to help Patrick find out this secret, which would be the most dangerous of all for him to discover.

Along with records from Dido's line spanning many millennia, we also have the original text of a prophecy from over two thousand years ago. The prophecy says the first wolf-born mage holds the key to returning what wolves lost—the ability for female wolves to shift. While some wolves know of this prophecy, they don't know about the mage part.

I don't know what the key is or how you can restore shifting for female wolves. I also don't know how you can unlock your wolf, but I know it should be possible. Your mage magic should override what's keeping women from shifting. What I do know is you will need every ounce of power you have to win the upcoming battle.

To find out what the prophecy says and how to unlock shifting, you need to travel to our family library in Paris. It's the same library that Dido had in Carthage, but it's been added to by each generation since. There, you should find what you need to accomplish what you were destined for since before you were even born. Your blood is the key to unlock it.

The road ahead of you will be hard, Briar Rose. I won't lie to you about that. But if there's anyone who can do it, it's you. You have a strength of character and conviction that is rarely seen in anyone, much less someone as young as you are. Paired with your pure, kind, and empathetic heart, you are exactly who our world needs.

Believe in yourself, Briar Rose, and know that asking for help isn't weakness. It takes strength to recognize when you can't do it yourself, and, I'm afraid, this will be one of the times you cannot do it alone. You will need your mates. Saint is the first one, but you should have three more. All of Dido's descendants have four mates. Find them before you go to the library.

Remember to always be as sweet as a rose and as fierce as its thorns.

I love you so much, baby.

Love forever and always,

Mama

Blinking my eyes to try to clear the few tears that have escaped, I look up at the room in confusion.

It's snowing.

Inside.

What in the fresh hell is happening?