Chapter Three

And thou art wild

S anctuary.

If one word could describe Ravyn’s home, it was “sanctuary.” Every inch had been designed and created with her and her every need in mind. Automatic tinted windows, blackout blinds, furniture for lounging on, seating that invited someone to stay awhile. And most importantly, an endless wine closet that was on the verge of becoming a wine room.

The security system had been designed and put in place by Oliver solely with the intent to keep out all uninvited guests. Wards, designed and placed by his team of magic users, ensured that no one would unintentionally be hurt but by design should also annihilate any supernatural being intent on causing harm to Ravyn. The magical backlash alone was enough to kill a mortal and possibly most supernatural creatures as well. The few neighbors in the building had been through a vetting process so thorough that the team knew more about each of them than their own mothers did. Anyone questionable was bought out with terms they couldn’t refuse and were replaced. Several apartments scattered throughout the building housed the security team members who opted to remain on site even while off duty.

Ultimately, they were the best of the best but apparently, she was still very much prey despite remaining inside the walls of her apartment. She despised being prey. Still, it felt better to be home than bouncing between safe houses, hotels, and apartments in an attempt to stay one step ahead of her hunter.

The young wolf who had accompanied Sebastian for the last few months apparently felt the same way as he kicked back on her sofa with a freshly made cup of coffee.

“It’s good to be home.” Toby had been back and forth across the country with them when they visited Ollie and met Eva, the half-demon Ravyn had unintentionally tied herself to nearly two decades ago. He’d remained behind at Ollie’s home for a few weeks, before rejoining them last night.

His mop of brown hair fell in front of his eyes as he made this proclamation and Ravyn smiled in agreement, pleased that he felt the comfort of her home even if it was no longer the sanctuary she’d built.

The youth’s hair had grown out since he’d joined the group. When Toby first arrived, his hair had been shorn high and tight, close on the sides with only a bit of length on top. Now it was curly, slightly past his neck and the front, more often than not, dipped in front of his eyes. It was darker than Sebastian’s hair, but the same unruly waves and curls marked a connection between them.

“Tobias Franklin, get your feet off the furniture,” Sebastian growled. “In fact, why don’t you get yourself down to our rooms and settle yourself in there, if there’s nothing for you to do here.”

Toby let out a groan but began drawing his still lanky teen body off the sofa. “Uncle Bash, please. I’m begging you, call me Toby… sir,” he added in a quick afterthought.

“Stay,” Ravyn ordered. She felt a certain amount of satisfaction when he immediately obeyed. She liked the boy being around, although she wasn’t certain why he was or what his relationship was to her head of security. He did call Sebastian “uncle,” but was that a true blood relation or an honorary title? Despite calling him by his full name, Bash hadn’t slipped and used a last name for the youth yet. No one had told her, and she hadn’t asked, but that didn’t stop her from wondering. The teen had just shown up with Bash after his mandatory three days off several months ago.

Most of the month, Sebastian didn’t as much as take an hour off from her employ, but the three days a month surrounding the full moon were non-negotiable. His wolf had to run. It was already cruel to make it remain in the city or its suburbs the other twenty-seven or twenty-eight days, but the wolf had to be let out when the moon called.

Ravyn wasn’t sure where he went to run, only that all the wolves did, leaving around-the-clock security filled with vamps instead of wolf shifters. They all came back looking a combination of refreshed and exhausted. A strange combination for sure, but it kept them from becoming surly. The other wolves took a day or two off during the week, and most likely used the time to roam in wolf form in a national park, but not her Bash. He only ever took the mandatory leave.

Toby grunted as he dropped back onto the sofa, holding his coffee up high so as not to spill it. As he began to lower his cup, Sebastian smoothly swooped down, removing the cup from the youth’s grasp.

“You drink too much of this stuff,” he stated as he sipped the coffee, watching the teen over the top of the cup as if daring him to complain. “Damn, that’s good. Almost as good as Eva’s; you’ve been holding out on me.” Nodding and clearly pleased with the idea that apparently formed in his head, he went on, “Yes, you’ve just got a promotion. You can be my official barista now. Not so sweet next time, though. I’m sweet enough.”

Ravyn hid her smile at the banter but couldn’t stop her eye roll. She didn’t care for the sweetened coffee concoctions; red wine had been and always would be her drink of choice, but after spending time at Ollie’s, she’d seen how much the guards there had enjoyed Eva’s creations. Ordering the setup as well as all the goodies had been a small price to pay to give the staff a daily treat.

Clearly, Toby had been spending his time at Oliver’s perfecting his coffee-making skills under Eva’s tutelage. Even if Toby complained, he would be happy that someone appreciated his efforts. Ravyn watched the two, trying to figure out why the boy had joined her security detail but still refusing to ask. Honestly, it gave her something to think about outside of a crazed stalker. Brushing her hair, she began to plait the long, dark strands away from her face.

“Sir.” The boy nodded and stood up to make himself another frothy concoction before settling back down on the sofa, where once again his hair flopped in front of his face.

Bash eyed him with a hint of annoyance while Ravyn continued to silently watch the exchange.

Bash sighed and began, “Toby, you need…” His voice cut out as Ravyn shook her head sharply, eyes widened. For a leader of wolves and men, sometimes he could be completely dim.

Standing up, Ravyn moved behind the boy on the couch. As he leaned forward to track what she was doing, she gently pulled his shoulders back against the sofa. “Hold still, let me fix it.” Running her fingers gently through his soft hair, she began using the same brush to comb through his unruly tresses, gently releasing the snarled knots near the nape of his neck as she counted out each stroke in her mind.

One, two, three, four, five, six...

At twenty-seven, she stopped brushing and used her hands to measure the length. Considering the mass of hair, she finally pulled and smoothed the front and sides into a short pony tail on the top of his head while the extras curled around his neck. “Not quite as long as your”—she paused, considering—“as your uncle’s, but you can fix it this way to keep it out of your face. And it looks good too.”

She continued to smooth it before wrapping a hair tie around the hair. “Go check it out and let me know what you think,” she ordered, and the boy nearly leaped from his seat to stride down the hall.

“Thanks!” he shouted as he went to find a mirror.

“Make sure you cover the mirror back when you’ve finished,” Bash shouted gruffly after him, before fixing an almost embarrassed gaze at Ravyn. He quietly told her, “Thanks, I didn’t think.”

Ravyn waved her hand at him before settling back down on the sofa. “It’s nothing. Clearly, he looks up to you and your Thor look for whatever reason. It would have hurt his feelings for you to tell him to cut it.” Men were dense creatures. No wonder the gods had created women.

“Well, thank you. Sometimes I don’t know exactly what to say to him, and too often I seem to mess it up when I do open my mouth.” Bash looked down at the cup in his hands while admitting his lack of knowledge.

“Just be yourself; that’s who he likes.” Ravyn didn’t care for the way Sebastian was scrutinizing her, watching her through those dark predator’s eyes as if attempting to figure out if she was being nice or if it was a trick. Why couldn’t he continue staring into his coffee cup? Refusing to meet his eyes, she picked up the mail that had been forwarded from her agent’s office, where it had been sitting for a few weeks, by her guess. As far as her agency knew, she’d been on a rest due to exhaustion. Unfortunately, in the business this generally meant rehab, but at least it ensured that no one bothered her during her period of “rest.”

Junk, junk, junk.

She tossed piece after piece aside before stopping at a fancy, hand-addressed envelope with flowery script and a small symbol in the lower right-hand corner of the envelope. It was so small it looked as if someone had just set a pen down briefly and the ink spread ever so slightly in random directions with a tiny dot nearly indiscernible to the side. The ink splotch was anything but random. For Ravyn, it meant much more than that.

It was a symbol most often written in the dust of a field or the walls of a temple with a damp fingerprint that meant “let’s get together” or even simply “come.” This small symbol would call the giggling young girls together late in the evening after chores and prayers were complete for a night of just being young and free again, away from the prying, judging temple eyes.

“Holy goddess,” she murmured. After all this time it couldn’t possibly be. Chills ran down her arms and through her legs as the seemingly innocent letter stared up at her.

Setting the letter on the table, watching it warily as if it might bite her, set Bash immediately on edge.

“What is it?” he demanded, the coffee all but forgotten as he leaned down to examine the letter without touching it.

“I think it’s from my sister,” admitted Ravyn, sitting back on the sofa, gulping her wine, refusing to touch the letter again even as it called her to. “ A sister,” she corrected, not willing nor able to take her eyes off the letter.

After all these years? Was it even possible? She couldn’t move her limbs. A feeling—a mixture of fear and hope or excitement—spread through her paralyzed limbs as she looked at the letter as though it might disappear in a blink of an eye or perhaps, she’d misunderstood the symbol. She allowed herself to blink before once again staring wide-eyed at the envelope.

Quickly flipping the envelope over, snatching her fingers back as soon as it hit the table, she saw the same small and barely discernible mark on the back. The sender wanted it clear that the mark wasn’t an accident, a pooling of a pen set too long to paper. The mark was intentional and the message clear.

It’s time to come together.

Ravyn closed her eyes, breathing in and out and focusing on each breath before reopening her eyes. The mark was still there, marring the backside of the otherwise white envelope.

Sebastian’s face crunched slightly in puzzlement as he looked from the letter to her and then back again, mouth slightly agape as he considered. Then he questioned with a tilt of his head. “You have a sister?”

Clearly, his background check didn’t show him that , she thought haughtily, as if she didn’t know the research he’d done on her. This secret life was so long ago, before history even recorded such things. Who would care about an unknown girl from an unknown village brought to serve a temple for a few short years before the temple fell?

“Yes, several. Six who lived, to be exact.”

The seven sisters , Ravyn fondly thought, the memory enough to make her blink back the tears forming in her eyes.

“Your parents had seven girls?” Bash continued, puzzled.

She hadn’t spoken of them ever, not even to Oliver, and Eva hadn’t seen or written about them in her novels. Or perhaps she’d seen them but decided the story worked better with just one girl undergoing the transformation from human to demon.

“No.” Ravyn chuckled softly, feeling the absolute irony and recognizing the horror of the situation. “No, my parents just had me. At one time, though, I was one of twelve, but then there were seven.” She knew she made no sense, but the thoughts and words didn’t seem to want to connect between her brain and her tongue. After all these damned, blessed years.

The white envelope with the blue script stared mockingly at her, seemingly innocent, but at the same time perhaps a snare set to entrap her if she so much as touched it. All these years, she’d all but given up hope to ever know what had happened to any of them. Well , she thought guiltily, most of them anyway. Perhaps some secrets were best left secret.

“Do you need a witch to check it?” asked Bash, still clearly puzzling over this revelation. “Or want me to?”

“No, no…” Ravyn watched the letter as if it might rearrange itself. “It’s not spelled. I’m just…” Considering. “I’m just thinking.” Yes, that was the best answer. Thinking on it. Why now? After two millennia, why now?

Hesitantly, she reached out and poked the envelope with a finger, pushing it an inch along the table before an outraged Sebastian could stop her. Waving her hand at him, she shut off his indignation. “I know a witch has already checked them over. You already insisted on that for all my mail, so it’s not really necessary to do it again. And you really should consider having them throw away my junk mail while they’re rifling through it. Save me a step. And I’m just thinking. Let me think for a bit.”

Surprisingly enough, he did. The shifter settled down, sipping his sweetened coffee while alternating between watching her and the wall. This lasted for a few moments, before agitation settled over Ravyn.

“Stop watching me or leave the room. I need to think in peace.”

And he did that as well. Picking up a magazine, he silently began flipping through it, not sparing a single glance at her, so engrossed was he in the women’s high-end fashion magazine.

The silence settled over the two of them while she pondered and considered. A minute turned to two, then three, while she considered the scenario.

Ravyn stood up abruptly and walked into the kitchen, returning with a hand full of coffee beans, which she scattered on the table. She began sorting them into first piles of ten, counting each one off as she slid it into its place.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Repeat. Six piles with seven left over. Next, piles of twenty-five. And then she simply counted them all, relaxing as the numbers settled over her while she slid each dark bean across the table. She gently blew the dust away from the beans as it settled on the table, calming her mind as she considered where a missive from a sister could have come from.

After all this time… What could it mean?