Chapter 15

“ F uck this spooky ass shit. It’s too late for this,” I say, going to back up and Violet fists my shirt.

“It was your ancestor who brought us here. Stop being a chicken.”

“Seriously? You’re going to call me a chicken to get what you want?”

“Yes, I undoubtedly am.”

“I don’t like this,” I tell her as I lean my head into the abandoned room.

It was clearly meant for a baby. The white railed crib is full of light purple blankets and different stuffed animals. The mobile above the crib is the lunar cycle of the moon. There’s a rocking chair that’s similar to the ones we were just sitting on the back porch.

The last thing that catches my eye is a white chest, dead center in the middle of the room.

Violet makes the first step in the room, not sharing her thoughts, but I swear her light blue eyes are watery with tears.

She gets down on to her knees and tugs at the chest, to no avail. She pulls her wand out, placing the tip at the lock and saying words under her breath, and the lock goes flying open.

Fuck it. Tonight can’t get any weirder, so I come and sit beside her. Her hands shake as she touches the lid to the chest.

“Do you want me to do it?” I ask and she nods as I push the lid back.

I expected it to be full of stuff, but there’s only one thing inside, a legal sized manilla envelope.

Violet’s hands are trembling as she reaches in, and swirls the thread to open it, delicately emptying its contents onto the floor.

There’s a ripped picture, the half she still has is of a pregnant woman, white blonde hair, cradling her stomach. Violet rubs her thumb over the portrait and grabs the next one.

They’re all ripped in half, but all of her mother being pregnant with her.

“She looked happy,” Violet whispers.

“She does,” I agree.

Violet gasps as she sees a postcard with a picture of the French Quarter that says Welcome to New Orleans on the back.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, her eyes scanning the letter over and over.

Her tears threaten to drip on to the page and she wipes them away. “Is there a necklace in there?” she asks and I double check the envelope.

“No,” I reply with a shake of my head, and Violet looks up to the ceiling before handing me the postcard.

My Dearest Violet,

I dream of you every night. I knew the moment the healer told me I was pregnant that your name would be Violet. You’re our world and as excited as I am to hold you in my arms, I fear I’ll never get the chance.

I hope you’re reading this letter next to me on the gazebo on the back of the property. But if what I fear has come true, there’s a chance I failed you.

Know that I love you.

Know that magic always binds us.

The moon necklace will always protect you.

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

I furrow my brows, not knowing what to do. There’s a deep part of me that wants to console Violet, my mate. There’s another part of me that wants to leave this uncomfortable emotional situation.

Violet flattens all the photos next to each other, along with the postcard.

“They were all taken in the French Quarter,” she says, pointing to every single photo.

“Listen, Violet. I’m glad you found something out about your mother. But I don’t see how this helps with our situation.”

She glares at me before looking back down at the photos.

“That door has been locked, unable to be entered by even the High Priestess. A spirit opened the door and led us to this chest. Are you really that much of an idiot to not realize this means something?” she says, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Let’s just sleep and think more about this tomorrow.”

“I’m driving to New Orleans tomorrow,” she says plainly.

“And what? Walk around one of the busiest places in the country with a thirty-year-old photo?”

She stands, grabbing all the pieces of paper and goes to leave the room as the door slams shut, locking us in.

I groan as Violet tries to tug on the handle. When that doesn’t work, she takes out her wand, casting a few spells that even involve sparks.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan.

I spent hours running as a pack, and now this. Can’t a man just get a good night’s sleep?

“It’s probably because your dumb ass angered the spirit,” she says, opening the closet and pulling out all the bedding that’s there. I expect it to smell like mothballs and dust, but shockingly, it smells like fresh laundry as she lays everything on the floor for herself.

Following her lead, I grab more bedding from the closet. The room isn’t overly large and therefore I have to make my makeshift bed right next to her.

“It will let us out eventually, right?” I ask and Violet curses, casting some spells to make her bed more comfortable. I almost swallow my pride to ask her to do the same for me, but I can’t make myself do it.

“I don’t know, Silas. You just called the spirit a worthless liar. So maybe we’ll just die in here,” she says in a shitty tone.

I groan and curse as my back retaliates against the stiff floor.

“Oh benevolent spirit, I didn’t mean to disrespect you, it’s just been a long night. I’ll do whatever you say if you just let me sleep on a bed.”

Violet snorts next to me, and damn, she looks comfortable on the bed she’s transfigured.

The spirit doesn’t open the door and I realize we’re going to have to sleep in here.

“Can you make my sheets like yours?” Feeling like an asshole for asking.

“Will you shut up and listen to me if I do?” Violet asks.

“Fine,” I agree.

I think I’d do just about anything for a good night’s rest. She arches a brow at me, but takes out her wand, extending her bed of blankets and combining them with mine. The instant relief on my back has me moaning as I shift my weight.

“Thank you,” I tell her, even if it hurts me to admit it.

We both lie there, so close, yet so far apart. Even if I’m comfortable, sleep is not going to come easy.

“Did you enjoy the full moon?” she asks in a soft voice.

I smile for the first time since I shifted back tonight. “It’s the best full moon I’ve ever had.”

“Is your wolf tired?”

“Yes, why?”

“You could shift to him to sleep if that would be easier. If this is too much.”

I tilt my head at her and groan. “He showed himself to you?”

She shrugs, her stark white hair framing her face, while the black parts are splayed against the pillow she made.

“When?”

“The first night, I haven’t seen him since. He’s quite pleasant though.”

I groan and check in with Thorin, who is promptly ignoring the fuck out of me.

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

“He didn’t seem to want to hurt me.”

“That’s not what I was worried about,” I admit.

“Right,” Violet says quickly, like the idea of me caring about her safety is ridiculous. Which it is.

“Thorin has a way of doing whatever he wants, not giving a shit about consequences.”

“Thorin,” she whispers his name, which has the over indulgent wolf perking up in my mind instantly.

“Let me take over. She says my name like a caress,” Thorin rumbles sleepily.

There’s no fucking way I’m admitting the whole truth to Violet. It doesn’t matter that she’s my mate. I’m not hers, she’s not a wolf. It won’t hurt her endlessly when this is over, just me and Thorin.

But it’s a pain I’m willing to bear. It’s not like I haven’t been hurting for the last fourteen years.

“Are all wolf shifters that large?”

“No,” I respond.

“Do you hear that? She knows I’m the largest, most capable wolf. Let me shift. Let me comfort our mate. She looks so sad.”

I take a deep breath, grappling with my hold on this form. Instead, I switch the direction of the conversation.

“Why do you think finding your mother, or what happened to her, will help with our situation?”

She licks her full lips, clutching the blanket near her chin.

“That night… my birthday. My magic came to me, my grand-mère said whatever spell my mother had cast upon me lifted and that’s why she could find me. What if that magic is what caused this in the first place. What if it wasn’t my spell, but my mother’s?”

“It could have been Mander,” I say before even thinking.

“What?”

“Mander had us all on suppressants. Jonas and I didn’t know we were shifters until we were eighteen. Do you remember all the medication they had us take at night?”

Her brows furrow, and she shakes her head.

“But then why didn’t my grand-mère find me before I got to Mander’s?”

“Maybe it was your mother. I’m just speaking from experience.”

“Did you leave at eighteen?” she whispers.

It was always our plan. As soon as we were adults, we would get the fuck out of there and start a life somewhere, even if it was hard, even if we didn’t truly understand the outside world.

“No.”

“When?”

“Jonas and I left when we were twenty. Took everything Mander had. Destroyed the school and never looked back.” I don’t mention how Thorin ripped his throat out, or all the horrors we found in the basement.

Her brows furrow. “Four years,” she whispers.

“Things got worse when you left. I’m not sure why, but Mander lost it. Thorin got us out of that situation. A pack was all we ever wanted and now we have it.”

“Liar,” Thorin growls.

“I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to write to you,” Violet admits, her eyes heavy with the need to sleep.

The moon is still shining through the window; the glint shimmering off her cheekbones and I can tell she’s being honest.

“But your grand-mère forbid it?”

She looks away, her guilt palpable. The High Priestess didn’t forbid it. Violet just made her own conclusion that I needed to be in her past.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, wanting to sleep and for this endless night to finally be over.

“Silas,” she sighs my name and I shake my head.

“We’ll listen to your spirit. I’ll go with you to New Orleans. I just need to let Jonas know I’ll be gone.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

A sensation of calmness takes over me as I fall asleep.

My back doesn’t ache in the morning, and the door to the room is wide open. The cat is sitting in the room’s entrance making direct eye contact with me as he crunches down on a spider.

I guess I’m headed on a small little road trip less I anger the spirits of my ancestors any further.