38. An All-Around Shitty Day

When I woke the following morning, it was still early. I hadn't had a nightmare, exactly. It was more a bad dream about the full moon tonight, about Declan fighting for his life, about me losing someone I'd just found.

We hadn't discussed what might happen tonight, but we'd made love with an intensity that we hadn't had before. Both of us knew it might be our last night together. I had faith in Declan, but I also knew Logan would do anything to win.

After showering and dealing with my hair, I put on work clothes and went downstairs. I had a ton of work to do and all day to do it, but I mostly wanted to crawl back in bed and sleep until the Alpha challenge was over.

Instead, I went down, grabbed a muffin and a cup of tea, and sat on the edge of the deck, the way I used to. "Good morning, Cecil." A tentacle rose from the water and slapped the surface before sinking back down. "Poppy, I know you're busy right now, but good morning. Charlie, Herbert, it's lovely to see you." I didn't see his tennis ball, but I called, "Good morning, Wilbur."

I broke off a bite of muffin. It was dry and tasteless, which I thought had more to do with abject fear than my baking skills.

"And good morning to you, Arwyn."

I turned to find Uncle Bracken sitting on a far bench, near his RV, drinking from a mug.

"Good morning."

"Hmm, it doesn't sound good. Are you all right, dear?"

Standing, I gathered my stuff and went to sit with him. "I can't eat. Would you like this?" I held out the chocolate raspberry muffin.

He took it. "Thank you. I was just sitting here thinking I was feeling a bit peckish, and you arrive with food. Providence." He broke off a piece, popped it in his mouth, and hummed, smiling. "Delicious."

"Is this working out for you?" I asked, gesturing between the water and his motor home.

He nodded. "Very well indeed. The sound of the ocean is quite relaxing. And there's something about being close to family." He patted his chest. "I feel more settled."

"Good."

He took a sip of his tea. "Now tell me what has you so sad this morning."

I turned the mug in my hands, warming them. "Full moon tonight."

"It is," he said, taking another bite.

"Declan is a very powerful wolf, a born wolf. A Quinn. Other wolves can't stand having him in their territory. They want to challenge him. Normally, he just moves on, but it's different now."

"Of course it is. He wants to stay so he can be with you."

I nodded, staring out at the waves. "The Alpha challenge is tonight. In order for Declan to stay, he needs to take over the pack. The fight should just be between him and the local Alpha, but they're all going to attack. It'll be Declan against a pack of wolves."

"Well, that's easy. Let's go and help him."

That made me smile. "I had the same thought, but I've been forbidden to attend."

"That's ridiculous. I'll drive us and we'll park far away. They won't even know we're there. We can level the playing field for him." Bracken took another sip of tea, as though the whole thing had been decided.

"That's what I said and was told no."

Bracken opened his mouth to argue.

"In order for Declan to be accepted as the true Alpha, there can be no question about his strength. If we're there, he'll always be doubted. They'll assume his wicche girlfriend fixed the fight. And these are wolves. They see and hear for miles. They'll know we're there. Even if we could come up with a scheme to shield ourselves, I couldn't. I promised him I wouldn't interfere."

"That was silly of you," he said.

"I know."

"You went and chose an honorable man, eh?"

"Looks like."

He sighed, took another bite, and watched the waves with me.

"Did you just wake up or are you going to bed soon?" I had the feeling he was a night owl.

"Bed soon. I love watching the sunrise before I go to sleep. I find I have fewer bad dreams." He crossed his legs. "Shall I give you good news?"

I turned to him. "Yes, please."

"I've found references to a house laden in black magic."

I sat up straight. This could be it. The house where Calliope was doing her sorcery.

"I've been going through books and journals since we spoke. If I'm right and all the disparate references I've found relate to a house of sorcery, then what we know is that it's been in the family for generations, probably from when Coreys first moved here. The original house burned down perhaps a hundred years ago, and a far grander one was built in its place."

He scratched at his cheek. "It's hidden behind a large wall of stone and sits on the water. It's two stories high, but the upper floors are largely empty. The basement is where the sorcery is conducted. Candlelight and torches."

"Yes," I said. "I've seen her in a basement with sconces on the walls. She's sitting at a large, dark wood table that holds a grimoire."

"That sounds right. I haven't found an address, but it was referred to as The Shades once. The shades is another term for Hell, so I don't know if it's a description of what goes on there or the name of the house. The capital T and S make me hopeful the house was named, as that gives us another avenue to research. I'll keep looking this afternoon."

"Thank you, but you need sleep first."

He stood and stretched. "I do. I've found the breadcrumbs, though." Walking to his RV, he said, "Try not to worry. The valiant are often victorious."

Often, not always. That was what had me worried.

I went in and got to work, painting the wall on the café side of the gallery. It was difficult with the shelving brackets and the café area itself, which helped keep my mind focused on what I was doing, not on what I might soon be losing.

Taking a break at midday, I went to have some leftover pizza and realized I still couldn't eat. My mom called, asking if Bracken was with me. I told her he was parked here and was researching where Calliope might be holed up. She was happy he was settled and very interested in what he'd learned. I told her I'd call her if he found anything we could use and ended the call.

Sitting on the couch, I willed myself not to consider the possibilities, while also envisioning every possible way Declan could be overpowered and killed. These weren't visions, just me terrified and imagining the worst.

When I couldn't stand my own thoughts any longer, I turned on the gallery sound system, turned it up to eleven, and played heavy metal while I painted.

Hours later, brain numb, I turned off the music and climbed down from the scaffold for the last time, studying the wall I'd just completed. I looked at the other two walls and then back at this one. A storm was brewing over here. The ocean was churned up, with tsunami-sized waves forming at the surface.

The last wall to paint, the wall of original cannery windows, would be the most difficult. This was the closest to the light and therefore just under the surface of my watery gallery. The sunlight, the sea-foam, the paint colors here would be lighter, all of which was fine. The annoying part was trying to create that image while painting around five rows of twenty-five windows. I had only the strips of wall between windows as my canvas.

I was starting to move the scaffolding when I noticed the sun setting. My stomach cramped, watching the sky go red and gold. I wasn't ready for night. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, dreading what was coming but unable to stop watching the encroaching darkness.

A knock at the backdoor broke the spell and got me moving again. I headed to the studio, wondering if Otis and his siblings were back, and then I heard the knock again. It was the gallery's back door, not the studio's.

Moonlight shimmered on the water behind Declan. I opened the door and he pulled me into his arms, lifting me off the ground.

"I needed to see you before I headed out," he said, his voice a deep growl in my ear.

"How far away are the pack grounds?" Please, let me go with you.

"Hour and a quarter. Maybe hour and a half. It's a ways up into Big Sur."

"Does it start at a specific time? The Goddess and I will be having a talk at that time."

He blew out a breath, chuckling into my hair. "Put in a good word for me."

"What do you think we're going to be talking about? Dummy." I squeezed him tighter, not wanting to let go.

"How are you going to feel if the last thing you say to me is calling me a dummy?"

"I'm going to feel just fine. You have a powerhouse wicche in your pocket and you're leaving her at home." I kissed his neck. "Dummy."

"Probably, though not for that."

His scratchy beard rubbed against my jaw, and I never wanted something to drag out longer. I also needed to get him some beard conditioner. "What time?"

"Midnight, though I have a feeling it'll start as soon as I get there."

I leaned back to see his face. "Midnight? But you have plenty of time. That's hours away."

He shook his head. "I think you got caught up in painting." He studied the walls and then all the pieces I'd already placed. "You really are extraordinary, and I feel so lucky to have known you."

"Know, not known. No one wants your past tenses around here. You're going to go kick all the other wolves' asses and then you're going to come right back here and show me that everything's okay. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I mean it. Right back here."

He kissed me then, with a desperation that broke my heart a little more.

When he finally put me back on the floor, he coiled one of my curls around his finger. "See you soon, Ursula." He walked out, the sound of his heavy boots growing faint until they were gone and I was alone.