8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

R eturning to the hotel after a long day in the city felt like coming home. Not something Owen would have said that morning, but despite his initial concerns, the elixir Dani had given turned out to be a huge help.

She'd warned him that the potion tasted bad, but he hadn't been prepared for just how awful it would be. The moment it touched his tongue, he'd gagged, and no amount of coffee could wash away the taste. Like a mixture of rotten cabbage and a dirty jockstrap, it had been beyond foul.

But it worked, and ultimately, that was all he cared about.

With some help from his mate, he'd tested it on the other Guardians, taking things slowly with brief touches and working up to longer periods of contact. No, the potion didn't suppress his abilities, but it did give him clarity and understanding, allowing him to control the transfer on his own.

Of course, there had been a learning curve, but with each success, his confidence had grown.

Shopping for costumes for the big ball had been the most fun he'd ever had. Princess Iliana had such a welcoming personality, and honestly, the best laugh of anyone on the planet. She was nothing like what he expected royalty to be, and she had practically adopted him into the family already. In fact, when it had been time to leave, she had insisted on riding with him and Fenix.

Sitting on the end of the bed in the cabin he now shared with his mate, Owen stared at the stoppered vial in his hand. The elixir had already worn off, and with the activities planned for the night, he definitely needed a top-up.

Only, he worried that a single drop wouldn't be enough. Controlled contact was one thing, but he would be surrounded by hundreds of people. Many of them magical, and most of them tipsy at best.

Dani had warned him to only take one drop, but really, what was the worst that could happen? Common sense told him he shouldn't play around with magic, but desperate times and all that.

But how much? Two drops? Three?

"Fuck it."

Filling the dropper, he held his breath and squeezed the entirety of the acid-green contents into his mouth. Before he could even swallow, he instantly began to wretch as the vile flavor assaulted him. His stomach heaved, threatening to empty its contents, but he choked back the bile and inhaled deep, steady breaths.

It took several minutes before he felt like he could move without vomiting all over the floor, but eventually, the nausea eased, and the taste began to fade. So far, so good. He felt a little lightheaded, and his skin tingled, but otherwise, he detected no ill effects from the excessive dose.

He had just returned the bottle to the side pocket of his backpack when Fenix exited the bathroom, looking as casual as he had ever seen him. His long hair was tied back at his nape, and he wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans with a black, long-sleeved crewneck.

Owen ducked his head to hide his smile at the disgruntled look on his face.

The shirt had a pair of ghostly cartoon bumblebees on the front, with the words Boo Bees written in ghoulish font over top of them. Fenix clearly hated it, but he wouldn't have to suffer alone. Owen wore an identical shirt, and he knew the rest of the Guard would be dressed in one as well.

They were, after all, a gift from the princess. A gift she had insisted they all wear to show team spirit while they navigated the Haunted Escape Room.

Honestly, he thought they were hilarious.

Plus, it could have been a lot worse. At least the tops were black, but it had been a close call. It had taken nearly half an hour to talk Iliana out of the neon pink shirts she had preferred.

"Are you ready, talei? "

He popped up from the floor with a big smile. "Ready."

"Good. Let's get this over with."

"What kind of attitude is that?" he scolded with a chuckle. "I've never been to an escape room before. I wonder if I'll be any good at it."

Sighing, Fenix crossed the room and pulled him into his arms. "You'll be amazing."

He hadn't necessarily been looking for reassurance, but he damn sure wasn't going to refuse it. "Thank you." He pressed a kiss to his mate's jaw and stepped out of the embrace. "Come on. Everyone is waiting for us."

As they crossed the south lawn to the castle, he became acutely aware of the elixir coursing through his veins. Not in a bad way, though. Actually, he felt amazing. Focused. More confident. Completely at ease in his own skin.

They found Iliana and the other Guardians waiting for them near the entrance of one of the conference rooms. As predicted, no one looked happy about their "uniform," with the exception of the princess. They all wore scowls of obvious distaste, and some of them shifted uncomfortably as they tugged at their sleeves or collars.

Once they had gathered and said their hellos, a hotel employee, dressed as what could only be described as a zombie bride, led them into a magically altered gothic library. A large black desk with a leather chair stood as the centerpiece, while floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the room. A massive fireplace took up the far wall, and a sitting area with a sofa and a couple of armchairs occupied the corner.

What really struck Owen, however, was all the artifacts that decorated nearly every flat surface in the space.

An hourglass about the size of a wine bottle sat in the center of the desk, its golden sands twinkling in the light from the table lamps. The staff member crossed the room, flipped the timer, then left without a single word of instruction. Worse, when the door closed, it disappeared with the young female, leaving only a smooth stretch of wall.

"I guess we have to find a way out." Seneca wandered around the room, her hands linked behind her back as she surveyed the various objects scattered about.

"How?" another Guardian asked.

Owen had learned earlier in the day that his name was Corbin, and he seemed to be the most easygoing of the group. That didn't make him any less dangerous, but it did make him a little less intimidating to have a conversation with.

Seneca shrugged. "Spread out and start looking for clues."

Since the desk had been placed so prominently, Owen figured it couldn't be a coincidence. So, he started there.

Whether instinct or dumb luck, it turned out to be the perfect decision. In the top drawer, he found a square piece of stained parchment with tidy script.

A weary traveler, unaware of what lies in store,

Wandering from Night's Plutonian shore.

Freedom lies not with the radiant maiden,

Nor shall it be found in distant Aidenn.

Find the key, unlock the door,

Or suffer here for evermore.

"Hey, guys," he called, rising from the leather chair. "Look at this."

"You found something!" Rushing over to him, Iliana looped her arm around his and peered over his shoulder. "Read it out loud."

He cleared his throat and did as commanded. Then, at the request of the others, he recited it again.

"What does it mean?" Draven asked, though he didn't sound as if he really cared about the answer.

"Obviously," Zolan drawled, "we have to find a key." While a fierce fighter, the guy could be a bit too literal at times.

"Why? What key? What door?"

That was Breaker. Owen didn't know if it was his real name, surname, or just a nickname, but it suited him. With a shorn head, numerous tattoos, and a permanent snarl on his mouth, he was easily the most brutal looking of the bunch.

While everyone argued about the meaning of the clue, Owen took the opportunity to look for his mate. He found him seated in a squat armchair, flipping through one of the dusty books. Which would have been fine if he had been enjoying it. Instead, the poor guy looked bored out of his fucking mind.

Sidling up behind him, he wound his arms around his mate's neck and kissed the top of his head. "What are you reading?"

Fenix sighed and closed the cover. "No idea. It's all in Latin."

He chuckled and squeezed him a little tighter. "I know you hate this, but if you help, we might get out of here faster."

With another deep sigh, Fenix reached over his head to ruffle Owen's hair. "I'm sorry, talei. I shouldn't ruin this for you."

"You're not ruining anything," he assured him. "You might like it if you give it a chance, though. Besides, you're the smartest person in the room. How are we supposed to do this without you?"

That finally got a laugh, and Fenix tilted his head back for a chaste kiss. "You're a manipulative little shit."

"Did it work?"

"Absolutely."

The group were still bickering amongst themselves when they rejoined them, though Seneca kept trying to take control. Too bad she didn't appear to be getting anywhere.

"We're not looking for a key," Fenix told them, his tone calm but forceful. "We're looking for a book."

"No," Zolan argued. "The clue said to find the key and unlock the door."

Owen couldn't help but chuckle. "Guys, just find a copy of The Raven. Trust me."

"Nice job," Fenix praised. "When did you figure it out?"

"The first time I read it." But giving it away wouldn't have been much fun for everyone else. "I mean, come on. ‘Night's Plutonian shore,' and ‘distant Aidenn.' It was an easy one." Realizing how patronizing that probably sounded, he added, "I read a lot, and Poe is one of my favorites."

"Same."

A thrill went through him at finding something else they had in common, but before he could act on it, someone shouted from the other side of the room.

"Found it!" Corbin called from the top of the rickety ladder. "Catch."

Zolan caught the book, but rather than opening it, he handed it to Iliana. "Princess."

With a sweet giggle, she snatched the tome and placed it down on the desk. Instead of the key they had been promised, though, they found another slip of parchment, which eventually led them to the fireplace. And from there, to a treasure box on the coffee table.

With Fenix taking the lead and everyone working together, they moved quickly and smoothly through the clues, proving why the Guard made such a great team. Owen, however, hadn't been much help, though not for a lack of trying.

As the sands of the hourglass counted the passing time, he found it harder to focus and often needed to reread the clues multiple times. The tingle he'd felt across his skin after first taking the elixir was now more of a low-level vibration, and he'd often bust out laughing at the most innocuous things.

His head swam, leaving him a little off-balance, and warmth crept up his neck and into his cheeks. His mouth had turned desert dry and felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and for some reason, he had the strongest desire to drag his mate to the sofa for a cuddle session.

If he didn't know better, he would think he was drunk.

"Yes!" Seneca yelled, her hand still perched atop the bust of some creepy dude with a huge mustache.

Owen didn't even remember what the clue had been, but clearly, someone had riddled it out. As soon as Seneca had turned the statue's head, a loud groan echoed through the room as two of the bookshelves parted to reveal the exit.

And with only a few grains of sand remaining in the hourglass, they had completed the mission just in time.

"Are you feeling okay?" Fenix asked as they followed everyone out of the room and down a dark hallway to the lobby. "You look flushed."

"Just the excitement," he lied. "That was fun."

"It actually was. Thanks for talking me into it." His mate still looked concerned, though. "Let's take a break and get something to drink."

Since his throat felt like he'd been gargling glass, he agreed easily.

Winding their way through the throng of bodies, he tried to focus on their destination, but he kept getting distracted by the conversations going on around him. Most of them didn't pertain to anything in particular. Plans for the next day. The weather. Someone wanted tacos, which sounded pretty damn good to him. He wondered if they'd invite him to join them.

When he heard a young couple talking about the puppy they had just adopted, however, it stopped him in his tracks. He'd never had a pet of his own. Like most kids, he'd always wanted one, but his parents had been strictly against it.

To get his cuteness fix, he'd volunteered at his local animal shelter for a while, but it hadn't been the same. In fact, it had only made things worse knowing that the animals he fell in love with would eventually go on to other homes. Great for the pets, but not so much for him.

"Owen?" Fenix cupped his chin and tilted his head up. "What is it?"

"I want a puppy."

The shifter looked at a loss for words, but he recovered quickly and nodded. "We can do that."

"I want to pet a puppy."

"Of course."

"Now."

Fenix blinked. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

No, he definitely wasn't okay. His entire existence had become consumed with the irrational idea of being allowed to pet something soft and fluffy.

Right. Fucking. Now.

"Can you shift?"

"Here?" His mate's eyes widened, and his gaze darted around the lobby. "Maybe we should go back to the cabin."

Owen didn't want to go back to the cabin. He wanted to pet a puppy.

"Shift."

He'd meant it as a joke—kind of—but his tone lacked the necessary playfulness. Rather, it resonated, deep and commanding, ringing throughout the cavernous space. He didn't even know he was capable of producing such a sound.

To his utter horror, Fenix dropped to the grassy floor right in front of him. He writhed in apparent pain, his body contorting as bones and muscles reconfigured themselves. A thick coat of silver fur grew to cover his skin, and his eyes glowed brightly with an ethereal light.

Once the transformation had reached its conclusion, a wolf the size of a horse with paws as big as hubcaps towered over him. The beast chuffed a couple of times and shook his massive head as he settled into his new body.

Although stunning and impressive, Owen had only seconds to admire his mate's beauty because, at that exact moment, all hell broke loose.

Throughout the lobby, shifters started dropping, crying out in pain and confusion as their bodies cycled through a forced transition. Cats and canines of all sizes and colors. Birds of prey. Bears. Even the werewolves hadn't been spared. Only, instead of a full transformation, they had become trapped in their half forms.

Scared and disoriented, many of the hotel's guests reacted accordingly with displays of aggression. Growls, screeches, and hisses filled the air, adding to the tension that blanketed the situation. The only saving grace to the disaster was that everyone appeared to have retained their senses.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the princess' Guard move in to surround her, using their furry bodies to protect her from possible threat.

"Owen," Fenix barked inside his head. "Go. Get out of here."

He couldn't move, though.

Paralyzed by fear and mortified by what he'd done, he stood rooted to the floor, soaking in the sheer horror. Not only had he caused a mass shift inside the hotel—something emphatically against the rules—but he seemed to be affecting the Manor itself.

The candles that had been floating overhead crashed to the ground. The spooky mist that swirled over the ground vanished. Patches of grass faded, revealing the tiled floor beneath. The gnarled trees flickered in and out of existence, and carved pumpkins had reverted to regular gourds.

Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, more people started dropping, falling to their knees as they clutched at their chests and throats. He couldn't be sure, but he had a bad feeling they were all magic users.

Owen didn't know how he'd done it, but he had no doubt everything happening was because of him. With a singular command, he had released a torrent of magic. While the purge had brought temporary relief of his symptoms, the vibrating and dizziness were quickly returning.

It shouldn't have been possible. He'd always needed physical touch before, but now, he was keenly aware of the magic flowing into him, not only from Otherlings, but also from the enchantments that filled the castle.

"Owen!" Fenix snapped again. "Go!"

This time, he listened. He couldn't stop it from happening. He couldn't fix it or reverse it.

All he could do to help was get as far away as possible.