27. Twenty-Seven

twenty-seven

T hat night I slept alone in the bedroom upstairs. I had thought Penn might join me, particularly after his promise following our kiss, but something Malia said had sent him into one of his moody spirals. After she had left, he’d muttered an excuse about checking the perimeter and trotted off into the night.

I felt him the entire time he was outdoors, so I figured he never left the property. The wine made me tired, though I didn’t fall asleep until I heard the front door open and close, signaling Penn’s return. That was when I finally succumbed to the inevitable dream.

I found myself walking down a narrow street on a rainy evening. The air stank like sewage and rotting meat. I held a small bundle to my nose and inhaled the scent of pine and cedar.

I cannot wait to go home , I thought, annoyed that I’d been the one to travel for this meeting.

Water drenched my wool traveling cloak, soaking through to the plain dress I wore beneath. I’d borrowed the clothes from my maid, who was considerably shorter, and none of the garments fit quite right. She’d come with me as far as the filthy London hotel where we’d booked a room for one week. Gaia willing, the meeting would go well, and I could leave for the continent much sooner.

I spotted a small yellow rose painted on a building and turned right down the next street. This one was busier than the last. Despite the dreary conditions, it seemed others were out and about for an evening of debauchery in one of London’s seediest supernatural corners.

Humans looking for something they couldn’t get in even the darkest parts of their world roamed the sidewalks. They likely thought themselves very brave; I found them quite foolish. There was a reason our worlds were meant to coexist but never commingle.

Hypocrite , I thought.

Though I was supernatural, I didn’t belong in their world either. They had been very clear about that.

A pair of yellow roses appeared in a store window. I walked to the end of the block and made a left. The third and final symbol appeared after another twenty minutes of walking, marking the location of my rendezvous. The sign was small and subtle above a black-painted door, in between a pub and a gambling club—Three Roses Pleasure Den.

She really could’ve warned me , I thought, annoyed the fae hadn’t mentioned our meeting location was a den of sin. She probably thought it was clever. I was not amused. The trip from the Snake Mountains had taken twice as long as planned, and my husband was already suspicious about my travels. He didn’t understand why I insisted on making the journey myself instead of sending a messenger in my stead.

I squared my shoulders and yanked the door open. Once inside, I walked up a narrow staircase to a third-floor landing where a woman with a black veil greeted me. Between the full face covering and long, black gloves that disappeared beneath her lacy sleeves, she looked like a macabre bride.

“Welcome to Three Roses, do you seek pleasure or poison?”

I had no idea what the options represented. “I’m here to see Madame Charlotte. She’s expecting me.”

The veiled woman led me down a long hallway that stretched above the gambling club next door, to a set of doors. She knocked and then stepped inside. A beautiful woman in a long satin negligee and feather trimmed gauze robe lounged in a chaise in the sitting area of a large bedroom. She didn’t bother getting to her feet as I entered.

“You made it,” Madame Charlotte declared. “I had begun to worry.” She kept her impossibly blue eyes on me and waved toward my escort. “That will be all, dear. Make sure we are not disturbed.”

The woman backed out of the room, closing the doors behind her. Charlotte gestured to the seating options around her as she sat up and poured two glasses of wine from a crystal decanter. I chose a chair but declined the beverage. I knew better than to accept food or drink from a fae.

“You’re really missing out. It’s a Virgo blend. Sweet but tart.”

I lowered the hood on my cloak and shrugged off the wet outer garment. “The only blend I’m interested in is the one we discussed. You said you could do it if I came to London.”

Charlotte brought the wineglass to her red-painted lips and drank before responding. “And I can. The spell requires your physical presence.”

She’d said the same in her last telegram, which was why I had come myself. My husband thought I sought a potion to help me conceive another child. It wasn’t a lie exactly, just not the entire truth.

“You can guarantee I will give birth to a girl?” I pressed.

She licked her lips seductively. “Should you conceive before the next full moon, yes. It will boost your fertility during that time as well. If the issue, however, lies with your mate…” She trailed off. “I am afraid the spell will not help.”

“Conception isn’t the problem,” I said stiffly. “I must have a girl, though.”

Charlotte sat up and draped one long leg over the over. “I thought your kind preferred male heirs.”

“Not that it is any of your business, but my husband has his son.” My gaze hardened. “Now I want my daughter.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “And so you shall have her.” She held out her hand, palm up. “Do you have my payment?”

I reached into the pocket of the gown. My hand closed around a small pouch containing an Ophiuchus heirloom—the set of mating rings that had once belonged to the first alpha couple. It was a hefty price, and my husband would never forgive me. He did not understand why I needed a daughter, and I could never explain my reasons to him.

Reluctantly, I handed over the velvet sack. Charlotte peeked inside, her eyes sparkling as she saw the treasures. “Hello, darlings,” she said to the rings like they were long-lost friends. “You are going to make me a very wealthy woman.”

The doors opened behind me. I spun in my seat as another veiled woman entered the room, this one dressed entirely in gold.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

Charlotte closed the ties on the pouch and clutched it in her fist. “You may call her Lady Caster. She’ll be performing the spell.”

I shook my head. “That was not the agreement. You said you could perform the spell.”

“No, I said I could brew the potion. Your request requires dark magic.” She gestured to the other woman. “That, of course, requires a caster.”

It shouldn’t have made a difference. Fae and casters both used magic, which made me mistrust them all equally. At least fae had elemental magic though, drawn from the earth and seemingly natural. Casters used their own essence in spells, a crime against nature and Gaia.

The woman in gold crossed to my chair and knelt in front of me. She offered me her hands. I hesitated only an instant before sliding my palms over hers.

“What about the potion? Don’t I have to drink that beforehand?” I asked, gaze bouncing back and forth between them.

“We’ll get to that part,” Charlotte assured me. “First, let us finish the business of the transaction.”

My tone took on a frosty edge. “The rings were your payment, the one we agreed upon.”

“Yes, my payment.” Charlotte nodded toward the caster. “My lady’s services are additional.”

“I didn’t bring anything else with me,” I growled, my wolf dangerously close to the surface.

“Oh, but you did,” Charlotte insisted. She leaned back against brocade pillows with her wine in one hand. Her unnerving gaze settled on me. “Your shifter magic.”

Lady Caster’s fingers tightened around my hands as I tried to yank them back. Her nails dug into my skin, her grip shockingly strong. I struggled and kicked out at the kneeling woman even as my vision started to blur. My wolf clawed for release. When I tried to shift, my body refused to transform.

Then came the pain. It started as a dull ache in my joints that snaked through me like a virus. My blood heated until it felt like I was boiling alive from the inside out. A scream tore loose from my throat, followed by another and another, leaving my throat raw. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. Air refused to reach my lungs.

I had never experienced such agony, not even during the long, arduous days of labor with my son.

My body jerked violently as I lost all control over my muscles. My only other experience with such absolute helplessness was the day I’d stood in front of the Zodiac Council and watched them sentence my brother to death.

Charlotte came to stand over my chair. She cupped my face in one hand, the other still gripping the wine goblet. I wanted to back away from her touch, but I couldn’t move. Even my screams had died down to whimpers.

“I know it hurts,” she soothed. “Everything worth having does.”

She meant to antagonize me, yet her words gave me strength. I would endure this pain tenfold if it meant I would have my daughter. She was worth it. Her existence was vital to mine.

Darkness crept in at the corners of my vision. Charlotte smiled down at me.

“I’m afraid this is the easy part, Desmona,” she whispered. “The spell itself will require much more. But when it’s all over, you will have your descendant.”

I woke unable to move, my body pinned beneath a heavy weight. Sweat slicked my forehead and neck. I struggled against the restraint, realizing belatedly it was Penn’s arms wrapped around me.

“It’s me,” he whispered in a sleepy voice, nuzzling my cheek with his. He stiffened when he touched my hot, sticky skin. “Nightmare?”

Though the pain from the dream hadn’t carried into the waking world, the fear had hitched a ride like a parasite. I faced the wall, away from Penn, so he couldn’t see my expression. My accelerated heartbeat probably told him enough.

His fingers tangled in my hair when he tried to brush it back from my face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Did I? No. Not really. Not yet. I needed to process the weird glimpse into Desmona’s life. I had now seen scenes from Diana’s time, Draconia’s time, and Desmona’s—all three of the other white wolves to live to adulthood. That had to mean something. Until I understood what it was, I couldn’t risk sharing.

“Do you want to talk about what Malia said?” I countered, the question sounding more accusatory than intended.

“She’s just trying to rile you up,” Penn said after a minute. “Don’t let her.”

Early morning sun filtered through the curtains as we lay in awkward silence. Penn rolled away from me and climbed out of bed, muttering something about a shower. I didn’t respond. He’d been weird ever since the caster’s visit. Though, when I thought back, he hadn’t said much after Frann and Harold left. Had this dip in mood started with the discussion of Walter Stolly?

The water switched on in the bathroom down the hall, and my thoughts went in a different direction. I closed my eyes and recalled the feel of his mouth on mine, tasting the desire on his tongue as vividly as the day before. But the memories of his touch where I longed to feel it didn’t belong to me. In that dream, I’d been Diana. Her mate was the man my body had craved, even if my grief-stricken mind had conjured Penn’s face in his place.

The screech of metal met my ears as Penn pulled back the shower curtain. I pictured his gorgeous naked body splayed on the tattered rug—the way he’d felt in my hand. The way his body responded to mine. Those were my memories with Penn in the real world.

I debated whether or not to go to him. He had come to bed with me, though only once I was asleep. Then there was the absence of a shower invitation. Penn had seemed as disappointed about our interruption as I had, so why hadn’t he kept his promise to finish what he started?

My internal argument lasted long after Penn finished his shower, continuing as I listened to him moving around the kitchen to make coffee. Finally, I dressed and joined him.

Standing at the sink, he washed a large skillet with even, steady strokes.

“Your mug’s by the coffee maker,” he said, turning to me as he grabbed a dish towel.

I cocked an eyebrow. “If you had an apron, what would it say?”

This was rewarded with a deep laugh. “Remember my dad’s grilling apron? Nothing like a wolf buying filet mignon to feed fifty and then declaring himself the Meat Master.”

“His barbecues were legendary.”

I stared out the window at the fresh layer of powdery snow. Until I studied the snowdrifts in the yard, I hadn’t realized how much was accumulating. Even for winter in the Snake Mountains, it was far more than usual.

Penn set a blue enamelware plate in front of me with a steaming bacon-and-mushroom omelet.

“Why do I feel like livestock you’re fattening up for auction?” I teased, breaking the silence between us. “All you do is feed me.”

He cracked a small smile. “You don’t eat enough.”

With the icy wind howling outside, we fell into a comfortable silence while we ate.

Penn scooped up his last bite and stood. “I need to make some phone calls. Think you can entertain yourself for a little while?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. When do I need to be ready for whatever charade Finneus is putting on today?”

Penn pursed his lips. “Noon.”

He left his dishes in the sink and went outside, leaving me to finish eating alone. I drank three cups of coffee to clear the haze from yesterday’s wine and ate everything on my plate. Penn still hadn’t returned by the time I washed and dried our dishes, so I wandered into the living room to look at the dusty books and knickknacks scattered throughout.

After picking up a framed photo from an end table, my eyes flit to the dusty antique beside it—a rotary phone. Curious, I picked up the receiver, and a dial tone met my ears. The landline must have been a vestige of Penn’s grandfather. I punched in Evera’s cell from memory, impressed with my ability to recall the numbers. It went straight to voicemail. Weird. I tried the Matthews home phone next. No one answered that either.

An uncomfortable sensation pricked my skin. Usually unanswered calls wouldn’t bother me, but I hadn’t seen Evera since I’d sworn loyalty to Finneus. Penn had rushed me back to the farmhouse before I could find her to say goodbye. She also hadn’t called yesterday to check on me, not even after the fight with Paula. That wasn’t like her.

Maybe she doesn’t know , I thought.

Frann and Harold knew about the attack before they arrived, so it wasn’t likely the gossip had missed anyone in town. I tried both numbers again. No answer.

The front door opened, letting in a blast of wintery air. Penn slid inside and shook snow from his hair. Storm clouds brewed in his gaze.

“Is it Evera?” I asked.

Penn blinked, confusion dulling his anger. “No. Why? What’s wrong with Evera?”

“Hopefully nothing. I can’t get ahold of her. Has she called you?”

Penn stared at me as though he couldn’t believe, of all my troubles, this was the one I chose to fixate on. “No. I haven’t spoken to either her or Grace. You’ll see them soon. I wouldn’t worry.”

I couldn’t decide whether his dismissiveness irked me or put my mind at ease. “Okay, well, if it’s not Evera, why do you have that look on your face?”

His frown deepened. “Walter Stolly called Frann.”

I was ashamed to admit that the worry for my best friend fled my mind.

“He’ll talk to you,” Penn continued. His jaw worked back and forth, and he added, “He wants to meet in person, though.”

It took me a minute to appreciate why this was not good news. “Your brother won’t let me leave pack lands,” I said.

Penn crossed to sit on the sofa, his heavy boots trailing water across the floor. “No,” he agreed. “Finneus won’t allow that.” He fixed me with his hard gaze. “If you leave, it’s for good.”

Something in his expression suggested he didn’t think a permanent departure was the worst idea for me. Did that mean he’d lied when he said Finneus wouldn’t punish me for the attack?

“Can Walter come here?” I asked, surprised to find my voice so calm.

Penn didn’t immediately shoot down the idea. In fact, it seemed he’d been thinking of a similar solution.

“It’s risky. Finn won’t like it if he finds out,” Penn warned.

“I need to know what happened to her—to Diana,” I said, a note of pleading in my voice. “It’s important, Penn.”

Gold swept over his irises as he studied me, expression dark and dangerous.

“Come here,” he said, voice deep and rich.

My stomach muscles tightened. Penn crooked his finger, and my feet moved without thought. He pulled me into his lap and tipped my chin up so I had nowhere to look but into his oceanic eyes.

“If it matters that much to you, I’ll make it happen.” His thumb traced my mouth. “To be very clear, though, this is tit-for-tat. In return, I need you to apologize to Paula and my brother.”

Ice water doused the flames flickering at my core, and I stiffened.

“That’s a small price, Drake.”

I pulled back but didn’t get up. “Only my pride,” I snapped.

Penn let his hand fall to the cushion beside him. “I assure you the alternative is worse.” His expression softened. “An apology won’t kill you.”

No, it wouldn’t. I’d already sworn loyalty to my father’s murderer and had to live with that crushing guilt. Was humbling myself a second time really that big a deal?

It was unfair for Penn to make my apology a condition of the meetup with Walter, not to mention the seduction. I stood and glared down at him.

“Fine. I’ll play nice. But to be very clear, I’m not sorry I attacked her.”