33. Shya

Chapter thirty-three

Shya

T he warm, pinkish-golden light of dusk spilled across the wooden floorboards of the veranda, creating a deceptively peaceful scene. The air was thick with the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed turmeric and honey tea, my mom's favorite, mingling with the sharp scent of the coming winter on the wind.

I'd chosen my pink Jimmy Choo patent leather "love" pumps; as I stepped onto the veranda, I wanted to feel strong, powerful, in control. My eyes immediately sought out Mason, and when they found his, my lady bits spasmed.

Damn it! I really had to tell him to go.

I forced myself to look away, and my eyes skipped over Derek and fell on Mai. She'd changed since I last saw her. The petite woman before me exuded an air of quiet strength and confidence that hadn't been there before. Her wavy dark hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, emphasizing her big brown eyes.

Next to her was Sam Shaw, Derek's twin. He had changed, too. He now looked older than his twenty-three years, and there was a new intensity about him, a seriousness that didn't fit with the Shifter with the easy smile and teasing manner that I'd known before.

"Shya!" Mai exclaimed, stepping toward me. "It's so good to see you."

She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, "I heard about Tristan. I want you to know that you're not alone in this. I'm here for you. Want to go shopping? I'm your girl. Want to eat strawberry H?agen-Dazs in PJs and watch Firefly ? I'm there. Want to launch a war and torture the shit out of Tristan? I'll be right beside you. Just tell me who to hold down."

And this was why I liked Mai.

"Thank you," I whispered back, hugging her a bit tighter before letting go and turning to Sam. "Hello, Sam."

He jerked his chin in greeting. No smile. No hug.

Hmmm. What had happened to him?

My wolf paced inside of me, unsettled.

Edmond wasn't here, and I wondered if Mom had sent him away to try to keep things peaceful. Jem and Esme had also left, I was guessing back to Three Rivers. I would need to call and thank Esme for what she had done for me.

"Shya," Mom said, gesturing to an empty seat. "Come, sit down. Would anyone like some tea?"

I nodded, grateful for the distraction from my thoughts. I walked over to the table that had a teapot, mugs, glasses, and a pitcher of water on it. I poured myself an Earl Grey. Mason shook his head when I gestured to the drinks, then I settled into the chair, with Mason taking the seat next to me and Henry and Derek leaning against the railing.

"Shya." Sam cleared his throat. "I'm here as the Wolf Council representative. I would like to ask you some questions about the witch you encountered at Tristan's camp, if that's okay?"

I shot a quick glance at Mai, remembering that Three Rivers had nominated Sam for the seat just before I'd been taken. So that was what was going on with him. What the hell happened on the Council that had driven the joy right out of him?

"Sure."

"Can you tell me about your interactions with the witch?" he pressed, his words precise and probing. "Did you ever see him in person?"

I felt my body tense, and my hands began to tremble as the memories I'd been trying to suppress came flooding back. I felt Mason's eyes on my hands and clutched the mug of tea tighter to try to still them. "Only once … at the end … at the waterfall. I don't even know if it was a him. It felt like a him." I shook my head. "I know that doesn't make sense."

"Shya, anything you remember is helpful. Even that you sensed the witch was male."

I gave Sam a grateful smile, and he nodded at me to continue.

"I think … I think I heard him talking to Tristan once. Tristan said something about how if he didn't have me by his side, then phase three would only be possible in three years. The witch was not happy about that; he said three years was too long." I remembered the revulsion and anger I'd felt when I heard that conversation and the frustration I felt when I couldn't wake up and rip Tristan's throat out. "I'm pretty sure they were putting something in my food by then, though. So, I'm not entirely sure about what I heard."

"Phase three? You're sure those were the words?"

"I'm not sure about anything, Sam. But from what I recall, yes, Tristan said phase three."

"You know what that means?" Mason asked his brother.

Sam rubbed his chin. "I have an idea, and if I'm right, it's a clusterfuck of a problem for us, but I'll need to check some things out. Shya, was there anything else? Anything at all about the witch, what they looked like?"

"Apart from at the waterfall, he always appeared in my dreams. There, he was always covered by his cloak, but …" I frowned as I tried to picture the witch in my mind. "He did have a scar on his left hand. It ran from his wrist to his thumb and looked old."

"Good. That's good, Shya. Keep going." Sam smiled encouragingly at me.

"At the start, I only heard him chanting while I was asleep. By the end, though, I heard it all the time. A haunting melody that seemed to weave itself into the fabric of my thoughts. It started as a whisper, a faint, ethereal tune that tickled the edges of my consciousness. As time passed, it grew stronger, more insistent, like a symphony of otherworldly instruments playing just for me. It was almost as if I could see the notes dancing and swirling, creating intricate patterns in my mind. Sometimes, it was a gentle lullaby, soothing and comforting, making me feel safe and loved. Other times, it pulsed with passion and intensity, filling me with a sense of purpose and belonging I've never experienced before."

I remembered the feel of those delicate tendrils of sound curled around my memories, my desires, my fears. They caressed my innermost thoughts, slowly but surely entwining themselves with everything that made me who I was.

"The music became a constant companion, a beautiful, seductive presence that I couldn't—and didn't want to—escape. It was … beautiful," I whispered, and I heard the mix of longing and revulsion in my voice. "Terrifying in its perfection. The way it wrapped around my mind, becoming a part of me … I didn't even realize I was losing myself."

Mason reached over, entwining his fingers with mine. I clung to his hand. Yes, I was going to ask him to leave; yes, I needed to learn how to deal with this on my own, but right now, I needed this, needed to know he was here, that he was real and not part of a dream.

"You're doing great, princess," Mason said gently.

Mai leaned forward slightly. "Sam, do you think there's a connection between what was done to Shya and the effects of ripple in Shifters?"

Sam tilted his head. "It's a possibility. We know witches are dosing ripple with a powerful spell that not only makes Shifters feel that their Pack bonds are impure and are driving some to break their bonds, but it also prevents them from Shifting into their wolf forms. Mason told me you were unable to Shift, Shya, until recently."

"Yes, it was like my wolf was asleep. She was still there, but I couldn't access her, and she couldn't reach me. Not until I heard that Dad was dead. And then again when Esme—"

Mai descended into a fit of coughs. "Sam … can you … water?"

I caught Derek smirking as Sam looked sharply at Mai, then strode over to the table and poured her a glass. While he was distracted, Mason whispered in my ear, "Best not say anything about Esme in front of Sam."

I frowned at him. What the hell was going on?

"Yes," Sam said, as he handed the glass to Mai. "Given Esme had been banned by the Council from doing any magic in the north, Shya should definitely not tell me anything about it," he said, his tone light but strained. He flashed me a smile, but it seemed forced, lacking the easy charm I remembered.

Mai sighed. "Esme saved us at the battle with Brock's Pack. The Wolf Council found out about it, though, and wanted to take her. Sam stopped them. They agreed Esme could stay with us but that if she did any more magic here, her life, and the lives of anyone who helped her, would be forfeit."

Oh, well, fuck!