Chapter Nine

I'd forgotten my Prius, parked haphazardly in the Chug parking lot. I'd almost forgotten the circumstances that led to the lousy parking job at the edge of the lot and the blood Kaleb had left on my back seat.

I wasn't sure who'd had the idea, but someone had detailed my car since I'd left it.

As I stood, door open, staring down at the pristine backseat, Wyatt, my bodyguard for the day, did not say a word. He simply shrugged when I asked.

Of all the wolves I had been introduced to in the Locket pack, Wyatt was the one I knew least. I knew he was important because he had been called to the meeting with Dean and the others, but I wasn't exactly sure what his position in the pack was.

Dean was the Alpha of the Locket pack, and I knew that Mitchell held the title of Beta and second in command. Kaleb was an outlier, a Sigma able to ignore orders at will., Kaleb was the oldest wolf in the pack and was treated as an advisor. Wyatt held the role of lead enforcer, but I hadn't seen enough of the man to know how dangerous he was.

"So, you like yarn?" Wyatt grinned, breaking the silence as we pulled away from the Chug. "I mean, you have to, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't own a store selling it."

I eyed him as if he had lost his mind. "I don't just sell yarn."

"What else do you sell?"

"It's a craft store." I rolled my eyes. "I sell craft things."

"Why?" Wyatt cocked his head to the side.

"Because I like them?"

"Really?"

I growled under my breath. "Are you this irritating to everyone you speak to?"

"I irritate you?" Wyatt bit back a laugh. "Or are you on edge?"

"Can't it be both?" I exhaled a shaky breath. "Every time I've had a dead animal on my car, I've been parked outside of my store. My home has wards in place. My grandmother built them and reinforced them for years. The house is invisible to the Durrach and any other malicious creature. But my store? It's on Palmer Street. It's in the open. Vulnerable."

"We don't have to go." Wyatt offered.

"I have to." My teeth gnashed together. "I have a delivery today, and if I'm not there, the boxes will sit outside the store for anyone to take."

"What about Melly? Your witch friend? Couldn't she take your delivery in for you?" Wyatt asked. He turned to face me, giving me the full force of his attention, and suddenly the car felt too small. Wyatt hadn't struck me as a serious person, so I didn't understand the interrogation.

I didn't want to admit that I didn't trust Melly Parish at that moment. She'd forgotten my herbs twice, and though it could have been due to her advanced age, Melly was quick as a whip.

I was Sídhe, so I could not lie. I did have a delivery to take in—but that wasn't everything.

I needed to get to the herbs in my staff room. I needed to make sure I was protected.

I'd already gone too long between doses, and Dean had sensed it, though I wasn't sure he knew exactly what it had meant.

As I grew closer to the wolves, I couldn't stop the sour feeling that crept up whenever I lied through misdirection, even if my words were true enough.

I waited for the puzzle pieces to fall into place and for the wolves to realize that I was not to be trusted. That I was a threat to their master.

We parked outside the store, finding a space in front of the cameras for all the good they had done previously. Wyatt stood guard as I unlocked the door, holding out a hand and asking me to wait.

"In the open?" Incredulity hitched my voice. "I'm not staying out here. Joel could shoot me. I can see the station from here. It's too risky."

Wyatt pushed his russet hair away from his face, his eyes flashing in irritation before he forced a smile on his lips. "Keep behind me. Do not leave my side. Do not make a sound."

I mimed zipping my lips as we crept into the store. I winced as the bell over the door twinkled, and Wyatt glared at the sound as if I were personally responsible.

The main floor was still. No hidden attackers or spells clinging to the air. In fact, the residual magic that swirled through the space, clinging to the displays I had knitted myself, and the magic that Melly dragged in with her had all but disappeared. The space was barren of magic, save for the golden whisps that clung to Wyatt's skin—wolf magic.

"The staff room and office." I waved to the door behind the register, turned on the lights, and placed my purse on the counter, waiting for Wyatt to tell me what to do next.

"I'll check it out." He grumbled, sliding past me in the tight space. He was taller than I was, though not as bulky as Dean. Wyatt had long limbs, undeniably sensuous with every movement. When he caught the sharp inhale as he brushed against my back, he grinned, waggling his brows.

I quickly realized why Wyatt had become annoyed with me. He was a flirt, and I hadn't fallen over my feet to appease him.

I'd have to do better to tame my libido. It seemed I had a thing for wolves, which would only lead to trouble.

"Mallory?" Wyatt called out from the office. "You should see this."

My heart rose to my throat. "What?"

"You should see this." He repeated.

I grabbed my bag, holding it in front of my stomach like a shield, as I crept to the still-open door to the office. Wyatt stood in the doorway, blocking my view. He stepped to the side when he sensed my presence behind him, revealing the single body hanging from the light switch. He wore the same clothes when he'd come to my home, holding a gun. I'd washed and dried that ‘Dave Matthew Band' t-shirt more times than I could count. His eyes were closed, and his face was purple and distorted, but I'd know my ex-husband anywhere.

I raced to the trash can, upending my breakfast.

"I'm guessing you know this guy?" Wyatt's lips twisted in displeasure.

My response was to retch until there was nothing left but bile.

My grandmother's face was obscured by shadows.

Her frail arm reared back over her head as she swung the switch toward the soles of my feet, ignoring my cries as I fought against the restraints.

"Deny the beast!" She shouted. "You must be able to control yourself. Even if you are in pain. Even if you are filled with rage. You must remain yourself. You must remain untouched by the wolf."

I woke with a start, my arms still wrapped around the metal trashcan in my office.

Wyatt knelt down, pushing my hair away from my face. The black tendrils were stringy with sweat. I looked up at him blearily, uncertain if I had fallen asleep or was seeing things.

I wiped the saliva from my lips with the back of my hand.

"Do you want me to cut him down?" Wyatt asked.

I shook my head. "We'll have to call the police. The longer we wait, the more suspicious it looks."

Wyatt eyed me. "This is your ex-husband?" He guessed.

I nodded. "There is no magic on him."

"Do you think he's the kind of man to do this?" Wyatt waved a hand toward the body and the sight of his limp legs dangling sent another wave of sickness through me.

"Can we get out of the office?" I begged.

Wyatt nodded, helping me up.

I didn't speak until the door was shut behind us, and Joel's body was out of sight. "I don't feel bad. I mean, I feel sick, but it's not because I love him or because of shock; it's because someone killed him and just left him there for me to find."

"His pants are still ripped from Kaleb's bite," Wyatt noted.

"Do you think he came straight here?" I wrung my hands together.

Wyatt's brow furrowed, and he glanced back to the door, troubled. "I don't know."

Joel was taken to the county morgue, but by the time the police left, suicide was mentioned several times.

I was told not to leave town, but other than that, Wyatt and I were free to go.

We got in the car, ready to go to the motel on the edge of town, as sunset fast approached.

I hadn't spoken a word for most of the day except for answering questions about Joel and the last time I had seen him.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Joel's hanging body.

"Melly is waiting at the Locket Inn outside of town," Wyatt informed me as we drove. The tendons in his hands stood stark as he clenched his fists and pressed them against his thighs.

"It's just for a night," I assured him. "If you were worried about me."

"You just saw your husband's corpse." He countered. "Anyone in their right mind wouldn't want to be alone right now."

I loosened a small, shaky breath. "Is it wrong to feel relieved? Even just a tiny bit?"

"Kaleb told me what happened. What he did to you." Wyatt glanced at me. "I don't think you're wrong to feel like you do."

"Part of me doesn't believe it's real. That Joel's going to walk out in front of this car." I waved a hand to the windscreen. "What about Faith? And their baby?"

"Do you think he did that to himself?" Wyatt did not turn his head from the windscreen and the road.

"I don't know," I admitted. "There weren't any unusual magic signatures."

"Nor smells." Wyatt agreed.

The glowing sign of the motel rose up in the distance as the sun over the treeline.

"Are you scared?" I asked.

Wyatt flashed me a smirk. "Scared of what, sweetheart?"

"Scared of the Huntsman."

Wyatt's brow furrowed; his red hair was surrounded by a halo of light from the setting sun. "I was an Alpha's son. Did you know that?"

"I don't know anything about you," I told him.

Wyatt chuckled to himself. "I'm considered a catch amongst wolves."

"Sure you are."

Wyatt gave me a look. "I'm defective, and my father couldn't send me away fast enough. I spent some time in the Aos Sí, amongst those that live in the Huntsman's castle. It's not a bad life."

"But what if you could be free?" My fists clenched, and my teeth locked with the force of my secrets.

"To have children?" Wyatt laughed. "I'm infertile. I won't ever have a child of my own."

"Oh." I wanted to apologize, but the Fae inside me wouldn't let me.

"It doesn't matter. I protect my Alpha and live for myself, even if the Huntsman holds my leash and yanks it once a year. There are worse ways to be caged. Believe me, I know." Wyatt shot me a floppy, disarming grin, but I didn't trust the expression. His eyes were dark and flat.

I had thought of Wyatt as a shallow pool, but it seemed he had a past that perhaps I understood all too well.

We parked outside the Locket Inn, under the street light, but in view of the camera. Wyatt had already shifted as I put the car in park, his wolf a reddish umber, his eyes the same marmalade orange as his pack mates. Wyatt's tongue lulled out of the side of his mouth as he panted, though even his silly expression couldn't hide his mouthful of teeth.

Wyatt waited by the car until I crossed the lot and entered the motel before rushing away on four legs—racing for the trees at the edge of the parking lot.

Rows of vending machines lined the pokey lobby, reminding me I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and even that hadn't remained in my stomach for long. I didn't have much cash and doubted that the Locket Inn provided room service.

Maybe I could order a pizza.

I approached the reception desk, eying the man behind the counter, swathed in a leather jacket despite the humid Tennessee fall and the lack of air conditioning in the lobby.

His hair hung in greasy tendrils down both sides of his face, and his eyes didn't look right. Hollow.

A sour feeling curdled my stomach. He wore a pin on the lapel of his jacket. It was too small to recognize.

"I have a reservation. Melly Parish." I told him, clearing my throat.

The hotel worker blinked, staring at me numbly, before he reached for the computer and grabbed a keycard, pushing it across the desk.

I didn't thank him. Instead, I slid the card into my hands and saluted with an awkward half-wave. The back of my neck prickled as I walked away.

I found Melly in the room, watching a rerun of Friends on the ancient television set in the corner. She sat up, waving toward a bag of snacks on the side table.

"Is it sundown already?" Melly acted shocked, checking her watch as she swung her legs over the bed to stand up.

"A few minutes," I replied.

"Good thing I got started on those wards an hour ago." Melly chuckled, the sound like dry leaves skittering across the pavement. "Those wolves are really hung up about your security. They're paying a whack for your protection."

"Uh-huh," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around my body.

"You're not sore about those herbs, are you?"

I didn't answer. Until that moment, I'd forgotten why I'd even gone to my store in the first place.

Melly's face changed for just a moment. So quickly, it could have been a shadow.

"You know, your grandmother didn't always know best." She piped up. "She was tricksy, I'll tell you that much."

"My grandmother loved me." I looked down at my hand. "She wanted what was best for me."

"She sure hated Joel." Melly hooted. "So maybe you're right."

"Joel's dead," I told her, describing the scene Wyatt and I had found earlier.

Melly blinked, unsurprised. "Of course, he's dead. He tried to kill the Alpha's mate. Ex-husband or not, he wasn't long for this world."

"The Alpha's mate?" My nose wrinkled.

"Don't think I didn't see that bite on your shoulder." Melly raised a white brow. "I saw how you and Dean were cozying up. He was the one that organized your protection."

I wasn't Dean Hart's mate.

He would have told me.

Wouldn't he?

"Oh." I paused. "You think Dean killed Joel?" I shook my head, repeating the word no a dozen times. "Dean wouldn't do something like that."

"It's Samhain," Melly said ominously. "Besides, the wolves don't belong to themselves. If they ever did."

"You think Dean is my mate?" I perched on the other twin bed and fiddled with the threads at the edge of my sweater. "I'm a Weaver. I don't think wolves and Weavers mix like that."

Melly let out another hooting laugh, the sound so distinctly her that I'd recognize it anywhere. "You know better than that." She waved a hand. "And I know what you and your grandmother tried so desperately to hide."

"I'm not hiding."

"You have so many secrets; your secrets have secrets." Melly slanted a look my way; the old woman was shrewder than I'd given her credit for. Melly slapped her knees as she made to stand up, gesturing to the bathroom. "You should get some rest. I'm going to take a long bubble bath and watch a movie. No durrach or Fae Lord can enter this room without my say."

I wasn't sure how long I slept before the sound of claws against the glass window woke me. The sound was grating and painful. I sat up, startled, the room dark save for the moonlight filtering through the open drapes and the shadow of a wolf in the window.

I would recognize Kaleb's silver coat anywhere. He favored his wolf form more than his human one, and he'd been a wolf when I'd first met him.

Kaleb's orange eyes blinked at me from the shadows, his paws on the ledge as he stared into the room. I glanced over to Melly's twin bed, but the older woman was nowhere to be found. Her travesty of a weekend bag was discarded at the end of the bed, but the bathroom door was open, and I was alone.

I'd been warned about Samhain when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. For years, my grandmother had taken us down to the basement and bolted the iron door. She'd given me tablets and strange smoothies to drink, and I'd often slept right through the night like a dog given sedatives to deal with fireworks. My grandmother had always warned me that Samhain was a dangerous time for the Fae, but I'd never questioned her. Why would I? Grandmother Eva had raised me since I was a baby; she had been my teacher, doctor, and parents.

Kaleb watched me for the longest time as sleep made my thoughts sluggish.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded to the window, still dressed in the clothes I'd worn all day—too tired to remove them. With a yawn, I pushed open the window, and Kaleb leaped inside more gracefully than I'd ever be able to achieve.

The wolf was eerily silent, watching me, as he spun on his heel before glancing at the door.

"You want me to come with you?" I asked, sleep clinging to every inch of my body.

In response, he padded to the door and lifted a paw, scratching the wood.

In a daze, I drifted toward the door, gripping the handle before I realized no symbols were painted on the wood. No incense or runes. The evidence was long gone if Melly had set a witch ward at any time.

Her absence was most damning, though.

I stepped back from the door. "I can't," I whispered, looking down at Kaleb. I was awake for the first time since seeing him at the window, looking into his eyes and finding none of his signature far-away gaze. The dreamy ancient expression that lived one foot in the past and another in thought.

The window remained open, the cool chill of the night air blowing the drapes.

In the distance, I heard the sound of hooves, though the motel was too far from the road. I wasn't fool enough to think it was all in my mind. Whether it was the Huntsman or the Dullahan, something was coming, and I couldn't rely on Kaleb to protect me—the lights were on, but no one was home.

I didn't want to lose another patch of hair, but I couldn't find anything else to weave. If I had time, I could have shredded a pillowcase with my sewing scissors, but the hooves grew louder—a roaring cavalry.

My magic was too diluted; Grandmother Eva always told me so.

Know your limits .

Would my ‘can't see me' spell work against a Sídhe?

I didn't know, but I had to try.

I reached up with shaking hands, finding a hunk of hair at the base of my neck, and began to braid the strands. I muttered my intent over and over while Kaleb pawed at the door.

The room was on the first floor. I decided to go out the window, away from the road and the sound of horses.

I climbed out, feeling my magic coat me like a layer of tacky dust.

I pressed my back to the pebble-dashed wall as I crept past the rows and rows of darkened windows. The moon was fat and full in the sky, giving me enough light to see.

My car was parked under the street lights at the front of the motel. Even if my magic could hide my body, I wasn't sure it would conceal my shadow. I peeked out from the edge of the building to the rows and rows of cars in the lot. Everything was still and silent, and the sound of hooves was a distant memory.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I didn't dare move as I stared at the lobby's glass door, watching the night clerk's dark figure bustle around. I couldn't go back to my room. If Kaleb had found me, he would lead the Huntsman to me whether he wanted to or not. A spell couldn't hide from a werewolf's nose.

I was content to stay, pressed against the building, hiding in the shadows.

And then I saw Melly on the road. Bloody and struggling to stand.

The Dullahan folded into existence, or maybe he had always been there, but I hadn't been able to see—a figure on a dark horse, with a rope in his hand, wrapped around Melly Parish's throat. The witch's frail body was leashed and broken.

I pressed a shaking hand against my mouth, holding in the horrified gasp that threatened to escape. Guilt turned my blood sour—I'd been so quick to accuse Melly of selling me out, of abandoning me to the Fae. This was a woman I had known since childhood, who had helped my grandmother until her final days and given her potions and tinctures to ease her pain.

I needed to help her.

How ?

How could I help Melly when I couldn't fight? Couldn't use magic for more than a cheap trick or two?

I could bargain for Melly. She'd put her life on the line to protect me. What kind of person would I be if I let her die at the hands of the Dullahan?

I stepped out from the shadows, my shaking fists clenched at my side as I forced myself forward. I marched to the dark horsemen, my heart ready to leap from my chest.

"Hey!" I shouted when I broke through the first row of cars. "Let go of that rope! She doesn't have a part in this!"

The Dullahan shifted in his saddle until his body faced me.

Melly's face was pale, and her lips were coated in blood. "Run, child."

"Melly..." My face folded.

"Run, you insolent child." Melly's eyes shot to the Dullahan before snapping back to mine. "The Huntsman needs a Weaver, and I'll be damned if I protected you all these years just to give you to the—"

Melly's eyes dulled, and her words stopped mid-sentence. Her legs collapsed from under her, revealing a man in a red military jacket with more buttons than there were stars in the sky.

He lifted his sword, eying the blood on the silver with detached interest.

"I suppose she was talking about me." The Huntsman cocked his head to the side. "Tell me, Weaver. Are you weak enough to need protecting?"

"I will not bargain with you, Huntsman." I held up my hands as if I could warn him away.

"Weavers are rare." The Huntsman continued as if I hadn't spoken. "The blood always runs true. From the veins of the gods, the gift cannot be duplicated."

The wind blew, bringing the scent of blood with it. The black strands at the nape of my neck turned white as the magic leeched all color from my hair, and it fell out at the root. Scattered with the wind.

The Huntman's eyes crinkled at the corner, and even where he stood, I saw his square pupils—like a goat or a cuttlefish. His mouth was too broad, and his skin a sickly pallor, but even with his strange otherness, it wasn't his looks that turned my stomach. It was the expression in his eyes.

Superiority. Ownership.

Not accustomed to hearing the word ‘no.'

Just like Joel.

I reached into my pocket, feeling the wooden coin despite knowing it should be in my car. Not in my pocket.

Grandmother Eva making her plan known.

I wanted to cry.

The Dullahan's horse grew restless, shifting on its hooves.

The dead strands of my hair drifted on the wind like leaves falling from a tree. The Huntsman held up a gloved hand, catching a single silver thread. He lifted it to his nose before his mouth curled into a smile that split his face in two.

"There is wolf in your blood." He told me as if I didn't know. "The hunt sings in your heart. I don't need to ask for your permission, dear Weaver. Because all wolves already belong to me ."