9. Raul

9

RAUL

" W hat…?" Ray exclaimed, but the echo of his voice surprised me.

I opened my eyes only a crack and glanced at our new surroundings. The forest was gone. Now we stood in a large, spacious library, with highly polished oak floors that shined under the light of a beautiful, large, old chandelier. I took it all in with one glance. There had to be a thousand books. Maybe more. There were bookcases on all four walls and everyone was full of books.

"I could tell you where we are, but I doubt you'd believe me," Helena spoke, letting go of our hands. "Go ahead and take a look around. I'll be waiting for you."

I didn't respond because I had no reason to argue with her. I turned around and saw a big, heavy door. I clicked the knob open, wondering what she meant by ‘I doubt you'd believe me.' It's not as if we hadn't already seen too many things that were difficult to believe already. It's not like she had hesitated to show them to us.

The door opened onto a hallway that was quite a spectacle. Both sides of it were lined with torches in golden cups, their flickering light illuminating the hallway's sizeable width. Just past the third torch to the right, I spotted a narrow, white door. Ray and Sam turned to the left and I went right alone, intent on exploring that room.

The door was unlocked and swung open on silent hinges. Inside it was every bit as spacious as the library. I peered through the open door, sniffing the air and looking before walking inside. It felt as if I had somehow exited modern-day Dawson and entered a time long before mine.

There was a strong smell of oil in the air, the source of which was on a counter against the right wall where there were three oil lamps. Two of them were intact, while the third lay in pieces. Shards of glass were spread around its base. Under that shelf, rested a pair of gray boots with dirt lining their soles. Their small size was a hint but the poster on the far wall was definitive proof. It depicted Marianne Crawford, my grandmother. What a beautiful woman she had been. Arms folded across her chest, she was wearing a white dress and a radiant smile. Her golden locks were reaching down to her forearms. Below the poster lay a desk. On its dusty surface, were five black-and-white pictures of her and my grandfather. In one of those, Edward and Marianne were engaged in a passionate kiss, the snowy tops of Bear Mountain as the backdrop.

I had seen enough to know. This place was a doorway to the past. My family's past, to be exact. Heading back outside, suspicion grew within me. That room carried too many private moments to belong to someone else, anyone else, other than Edward Crawford. What I couldn't grasp, was why nobody in my family had any idea about its existence. I didn't remember my father or my mother mentioning anything about it. Striding back into the library, I heard my brother's footsteps behind me. Together we strode into the library, prepared to confront the witch.

"Helena…" I began. She was sitting on the desk directly across from me. "I've got a million questions, but I'll start with this one. We're in some sort of sanctuary, aren't we?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "This compound was the property of Edward Crawford. And yes, it's buried deep into the mountainside."

"It figures," Sam agreed, halting on my right flank. "I saw his old tractor in some kind of a warehouse. It's like a mausoleum in there."

"Hold on a minute," Ray raised his hand to chest height, palm facing her. "If this was grandpa's sanctuary, how come our folks had never said a word about it?"

"That's simple." Helena shrugged, hopping off the desk. "They didn't know it existed."

"Robert Crawford, Edward's son didn't know this place existed? Why?" I wondered, surprise making my voice higher pitched than I intended.

"Because Edward was hiding things he wasn't so proud of in here," she explained, her tone deepening. "For instance, his relationship with a fledgling witch."

"Who was she?" Sam posed the question with his hands on his waist.

It's the one I always asked about. The rumors were true.

"You're looking at her, second son," Helena spoke in a firm voice, shifting her glance to him. "She's still very much alive, as you might have noticed."

"It can't be," I muttered, my face twisting into an expression of amazement. "You don't look more than thirty, thirty-five years old, tops."

"All is not as it seems, Raul." She smiled. "Raymond, there were a few boxes in that warehouse, am I right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Please go get the smallest of those boxes," she urged, not taking her eyes off of me. "You'll all see what I'm talking about."

"I don't get it," Sam complained. "The rule against shapeshifters mating with humans is as old as the mountain. Grandpa didn't get his throat ripped out. We all know he died of a broken heart. Why should we believe you?"

"You may be aware of that rule's age, but you don't know when exactly it was enforced, do you, Samuel?" She asked, turning her attention to him. "Or who suggested it in the first place?"

"No," Sam said, shrugging.

"Guys, you're not going to believe this," Ray announced, rejoining us in the library. "There are letters to Helena in this box."

Keeping my mouth shut, I waited for my brother to leave the box in question on the desk. I fished into it and dust particles stuck to my fingers, puffing up to tickle my nose. Taking a letter out, it was clear that he wasn't making this up. The once-white envelope had aged to a deep shade of yellow. The name on the top left corner didn't leave room for doubt because it was my grandfather's script and his name.

"Edward Crawford"

"Before you read this, I should warn you," Helena said, assuming a firm voice. "These are not what you'd call ‘love letters.'"

"Oh, she's right about that," Ray chuckled, holding a yellow piece of paper in front of his face. "Grandpa was one dirty bastard."

"You're all wondering why I look so young, so, let me answer that," she suggested, moving around me. "It's witchcraft. I use certain spells to prevent my skin from aging. Edward and I dated for almost two years. I fell in deep love with him, but he never did with me."

"What makes you so sure?" Sam spoke out, suspicion heavy in his tone.

"Well, if he were in love with me, he wouldn't have abandoned me the way he did," Helena replied, smiling with bitterness. "You see, his folks poisoned him against me. Like I said, I was a young witch at the time. They didn't like the fact that I could snap his neck on a whim. Of course, I wouldn't have done that, but did he believe me? No. And to answer that question about that rule enforcement, it was Edward who suggested it to his Alpha, Riker. He was his lieutenant and those two were awfully close."

"Unbelievable," I commented, banging the heel of my palm against my forehead. "We have grandpa to thank for that goddamn rule."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Ray questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Why would she lie, kid?" I answered with a question of my own. "What does she have to gain by feeding us a bullshit story? Helena…" I spoke her name, stepping into her path. "You said something about us being in great peril, back in the woods. What did you mean by that?"

"I'll get to that." She gave a quick nod. "First, I'd like to know if you remember our first encounter. Do you?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "You told me to believe. I still haven't figured out what it is you want me to believe in."

"In love, firstborn," Helena attempted a mellower tone. "It is love that drives your kind. It dictates how you live and die. You know, your one weakness. Some of you shifters call it your ‘doom,' but it hasn't stopped any of you from searching for your special one."

She knows. How does she know about Monica? Is she right? Is Monica my doom?

"I'm not sure I'm following you," I lied, sensing my brothers' gazes on me.

"I mean your healer, you fool ," she responded in an emphatic tone, her stare intensifying. "I've been monitoring your life since you were an infant. I've seen you interact with other women. Not once did I see the spark in your eyes that you have every time you're around the healer. And now you are keeping your distance from her. Why? Because you'll break a rule like you've done hundreds of times already? Or is it because you're afraid you won't be able to protect her against your kind?"

"Both," I told her sharply. "They'll kill her, Helena. You know that."

"They can try ," She argued, her eyes glowing a lighter shade of red. "The question is, though, will you let them?"

"Give me some credit here, will you?" I groaned, anger rising at the challenge in her words. " Of course, I'd fight for her."

"Wrong answer," Helena scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Until you find the right one, I'm not telling you about the danger you're all in. Hold hands with me again, pups. It's time I took you back to where I found you."

"Helena…"

"This conversation is over," she interjected. "Do as I say."

Wonderful…

That woman had to love speaking in riddles. It was the only explanation I could think of for her behavior. One minute, she was revealing her past with my grandfather. She had no issue with narrating her sad story to him. Then in the next instant, she appeared to want me to find an answer to a riddle and my failure triggered her anger. Second chance? Not with her. She was determined to make me wrack my brain to come up with the correct answer, even if that meant hiding the danger my brothers and I were in…

I growled as I took her hand, not knowing the right answer, nor thinking it was a good idea to try and take her on and beat it out of her.