27. Willow

TWENTY-SEVEN

Willow

I didn’t know what to expect, but Caleb had become tense beside me, even though his gaze was trained on Cannon.

“Let’s go,” he spoke suddenly, startling me a little and making me jump, which he never commented on if he noticed.

Cannon had already turned away, and Doc quickly followed, both knowing I hadn’t moved yet and Caleb hadn’t either, even though he was the one who had told us to move.

“You good?” He didn’t look at me as he asked. “Ready for this?”

My heart was racing. I wouldn’t lie and say I was fine. I was far from fine, ready to lie down and hide under a blanket rather than face what was coming next. Instead of admitting that, I lied after all. “I’m good.”

Caleb smirked but didn’t call me out on my lie. Instead, his fingers circled my wrist, and he tugged me forward. “Come on, this is why we’re here.”

We followed the others and soon I was distracted by the small town that was uncovered as we descended the short distance. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the bunker was hidden.

“Clever, isn’t it,” Caleb commented. “They used the mountain’s natural elevations to conceal what’s in plain sight from hikers who will stick to the trail that naturally leads them away from here.”

“They built this?” I asked, taking in the range of houses.

“Nah, old mining town. When it was abandoned, the pack just moved in and expanded a little.”

A little? It was a proper town . It wasn’t a few scattered homes; it was streets and deliberate town planning. I’d expected…I wasn’t sure what I expected. Shacks? Huts? Neanderthals that lived in caves or dens?

“You were thinking log cabins, right?” Caleb’s suggestion was a lot kinder than what I’d actually been thinking, so I agreed with his assumption rather than admit my ignorance. “Because of what you drew earlier?” he asked curiously, cautiously.

Remembering the large log cabin in the sketch, I went with it. “Sure.”

If he thought my answer was short, he didn’t comment, but his grip tightened fractionally on my wrist. “You don’t need to keep hold of me. I won’t run away,” I told him softly.

“I might.”

The low admission made me look at him in surprise, but he was staring right ahead, and when I pulled my wrist free, lacing our fingers together, he didn’t look at me. He didn’t even blink, but he let me hold his hand, and that said more than words could.

Cannon took us through the street, and as I looked around, I noticed there was no one else on the street. Instinctively, I knew that was because of me. I was human and I was a threat to these people just by knowing they existed.

The house Cannon took us to had three simple steps that led up to it. The door was open, and I thought it was strange but also suited this town. The house had wooden floors, and that was all I noticed before I was led into a room that looked like a library.

Caleb led me to a couch, and I sat, but he remained standing. An older man was on one chair. His eyes had a coating, like heavy cataracts covered them, but his focus was on me despite his impairment.

“You smell of fresh air,” he told me simply.

“Um.” I was blushing and I wasn’t sure why. “I was just outside,” I told him.

He smiled widely, teeth white and even. “So light,” he murmured. His attention shifted to Caleb, who was still standing. “Still dark.”

Caleb’s top lip curled into a sneer. “Still shit at using full sentences,” he snarked back at him.

The old man laughed, and I saw Caleb relax and smile too. “Caleb,” he said fondly. “It’s been too long.”

“I didn’t know it was you that they asked for,” Caleb told him casually.

“We thought you may not have come if you knew,” Cannon said, his tone light, but I saw his eyes held a warning.

Caleb sniffed, looking away. “Never knew Blackridge and Anterrio had such a close connection.” He looked between them. “Your mate?” Cannon nodded once and Caleb sighed. “I bet that’s a story,” he murmured .

Unexpectedly Cannon laughed, the other two males in the room smiling too. “You have no idea.”

Caleb looked down at me. “That’s a definite sign to never ask.” His tone was trying to be light, but I think he was deadly serious.

Caleb talking to me brought the older man’s attention back to me, and I shifted under the weight of his stare.

“I’ve looked at what you draw,” he told me bluntly. “You have a gift.”

Was he telling me I was talented? “Thanks.”

He frowned, letting me know I’d misinterpreted. “It’s an honor and a curse,” he clarified.

Of course it was. Why would it just be a good thing?

“And how do I give it back? This gift?” I asked him. He considered the question, and I hoped I hadn’t offended him. He seemed nice, a little quirky, but he was polite and seemed harmless.

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he told me. “I shall ask Luna and see what the Goddess has planned for you.”

I choked on the word Goddess , but he seemed completely at ease blaspheming, and the others all appeared to become more serious when the word was bandied about.

“Luna’s your, um, Goddess?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Doc’s frown, but he said nothing to contradict anything.

“We are children of the moon,” the old man said. “Luna rules us.”

A random thought from folk tales and TV shows blurted out of my mouth with little thought behind it. “Like the moon controls you to shift? Like werewolves on TV and in the movies? Full moon and you go all furry?” I wasn’t sure which one I insulted, or maybe it was all of them, because three very hard stares centered on me. Except Doc, who was covering his mouth, and I knew he was trying not to laugh at my ignorance. “No?” I guessed. “Sorry?”

“Furry?” Caleb shook his head slightly. “We can change at will,” he told me. “The moon has very little influence over us.”

“But the moon’s your Goddess…” I’d heard of sun worshippers, and honestly, put me on a white sandy beach with a frozen margarita, and I’d happily join the flock.

“Not the moon,” the older doctor corrected. “It’s figurative, and the moon has a lot of influence over us.” The latter was said for Caleb’s benefit, I was sure of it.

All I knew was it was making my head hurt. “Can we just accept I don’t know anything about you people, and I think it is better if that continues. I just want the visions to stop. I want to stop pouring my heart and soul into a painting only for Caleb or one of you to rip and burn it.”

“‘You people,’” Cannon commented. “So judgmental.”

“Our people,” the older man spoke clearly, “are a gift from the Goddess. Humans with a little more magic in them,” he said with a wink. “We are stronger, healthier.” His eyes took on a knowing look as he spoke to me. “We age differently, we rarely get sick.”

Sounded like they got more than a gift , it sounded like bliss. “Rarely sick?” I asked, and I knew why no one was surprised when I asked it. “Then why do you need doctors?”

It was Doc’s turn to shift in his seat uncomfortably. “They don’t really need me,” he explained. “I rarely get to treat anyone here, but Cannon allows me to work here, test some theories.”

Test? My mouth dropped. “You test on them ? When they are animals?”

“The ethics of it are simpler than animal testing,” Caleb of all people spoke. “It’s consensual and the test subjects can use their voices to relay results.”

I didn’t like it, but I said nothing. It wasn’t my business. My attention moved back to the other man. “And you?”

“I’m a conduit for our Goddess. Like your men and women of faith.”

“He’s a shaman,” Caleb said to me. “Through him, Luna speaks.”

Religion. A believer wasn’t something I would have pegged Caleb for being. “Theology wasn’t my major,” I muttered. “And I don’t have the brain capacity for this conversation even if it was.” Looking at the four of them, I sighed. “So, what did she say? How do you fix me?”

The shaman said nothing as he considered me, then turning to Doc, he asked a question I already knew the answer to. “Definitely human?”

“Yes.”

The shaman shook his head. “I smell it, but I don’t believe it.” He studied me some more. “This illness they tell me you have?—”

“ME,” I corrected. “I have chronic fatigue syndrome.”

“It makes you tired?”

“It’s more than that. Just think of me as permanently exhausted.” My tone must have been more bitter than I realized, because Caleb dropped his hand to my shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

“A mask, perhaps?” the shaman mused. “You’ve had this all your life?”

“No, I got it when I was a teenager.”

His gaze sharpened, which was remarkable for a man with impaired sight. “What happened?”

“I got an illness. ME’s an aftereffect of that.” I felt the weight of Caleb’s stare. “Maybe,” I added reluctantly.

He sat back in his seat, considering. “Your parents died?”

“Foster parents, yes.” He looked up at Cannon in question, and I explained. “I was left,” I told him. “I don’t know who my parents were. Or if they’re alive. I was in the care system, John and Jan fostered me, and they gave me a home for six years.” I avoided looking at Doc as I spoke.

“Did you have your illness before or after?”

“I caught glandular fever after they died.” I saw his look and elaborated. “They were killed in a car crash. I went back into care.”

“John and Jan…” Cannon spoke for the first time.

“McLeod.”

“Not Harper?” Caleb asked.

“No, Harper is from the home I was in, Harper’s Home for Girls.”

“You took your name from the orphanage?” he asked me with surprise.

“It’s the name I was given when they found me,” I murmured, aware of the scrutiny from the others in the room.

“You lived in an orphanage, you were fostered by the McLeods,” Doc summarized quickly, “they died in a car crash when you were sixteen, and you took ill and developed ME after it. Right?”

“All you’re missing is the big red book,” I grumbled. Seeing the blank faces, I shook my head. “ This Is Your Life ? No? Okay. Forget it. It is old, I suppose.” Seeing them all look at me, I shrugged. “Sorry.”

“What age are you?” Cannon suddenly asked me.

“Twenty-six.”

“Ten years,” he mused, his gaze locked on Caleb’s. “Coincidence?”

“What is?” I asked, looking between the two of them. “What’s a coincidence?”

Caleb’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “I think so,” he said, ignoring my questions and Cannon’s skeptical look.

“It’s not a coincidence,” the shaman said. His attention had never left me, and I would have welcomed the relief of him looking away. It was unnerving. I felt as if he was seeing much more than just my physical body in front of him. “Nor is it random.”

“Luna?” Cannon asked doubtfully. “Why?” He sounded as bewildered as I felt.

“I’m human,” I reminded them. I felt that someone had to point my humanity out to them. “I don’t interest your God.”

“Goddess,” three voices corrected immediately.

Oh-kay . “Right.”

The shaman turned his head, his attention moving to the man who still stood beside me. “It’s been ten years, Caleb.”

What had?

“You’re stretching.” His voice was tight with controlled fury .

“Am I?” The old man leaned back in his chair, so unassuming, but as I watched him, I realized something I hadn’t picked up from him before: he radiated power.

Now that I had noticed it, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. A fact he noticed, because his gaze fell back on me. “You see it now?”

I didn’t know what it was, but I knew whatever it was, I did, I could see it. I wasn’t one for talking about auras or any of that mumbo jumbo—that was more Lily’s thing, telling me about burning sage and stuff. But sitting here, in a room full of supernaturals, I could feel their presence as more than just four men in a room.

“I don’t…” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s something.”

That earned me a small smile from him. “You’ve been brave,” he suddenly complimented me. “A lot has been thrown at you, and you have taken it in your stride.”

I coughed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say that. Caleb had to deal with my bedridden ass for three days and then carry me up this mountain.”

“Yet you are here,” the shaman said. “You. Not anyone else.”

I didn’t have a comeback. Instead, I said nothing, knowing my cheeks were burning from the praise and the attention.

“So…” Cannon’s voice drew the shaman’s attention away. “We’re right, they’re linked?”

The shaman nodded. “Undoubtedly.”

“Why?” Caleb’s voice was hard.

“Well, I have my suspicions,” the shaman confessed, talking over Caleb’s demand to know what they were, “but first, I need something from you, Willow.”

“No.”

Looking up, I saw Caleb glaring straight ahead, having spoken for me. “What is it?”

The shaman ignored him. “I need your blood.”

It threw me, but it wasn’t that strange a request, but I pointed at Doc. “He has it.”

The shaman gave me a smile that was borderline patronizing. “I need it fresher.”

Fresher? Did he mean… My stomach rolled in understanding. “You want to bleed me?” I looked around the room. “Leeches?”

Cannon looked surprised at the question but said nothing. Doc, however, had leaned forward. “You’ve had that before?”

“One of the care homes I was in, she was a little more…natural with her medicines.” She’d been a proud Wicca and knew that the kids, including me, called her a crazy witch.

“Not leeches,” the shaman confirmed. “Alpha?”

No one moved and then Cannon held out a knife. I didn’t know where it came from, and that made it even more unnerving when a knife suddenly appeared in his hand.

I was even more confused when the shaman ignored it. Could he not see it? Cannon’s hand dropped and still the shaman waited.

No one spoke.

Why was no one telling him that Cannon had the knife in his hand?

“ Alpha .” The shaman was looking at Caleb. The reprimand in the shaman’s voice was strong but also disappointed .

“I don’t answer to that.” Caleb’s jaw was clenched so tightly that I was surprised he could talk at all.

Alpha? Caleb was an alpha ? What had he called them? Leaders? I knew my mouth was hanging open.

“It matters not what you answer to,” Cannon growled. “You are what you are.”

“A murderer?”

The two words had my eyes widening even more. Murderer? What? “What the hell is going on?” Every pair of eyes fell on me, and I didn’t care that I had their attention, but I was sick of being looked down on, so I stood. “Caleb? Explain?”

“Later.”

Later? No. “I think when you call yourself a murderer , the time for later is now,” I hissed at him.

“Your blood, child?”

Turning, I looked at the shaman in disbelief. “Oh my God, can you wait one minute?”

“Caleb.” The shaman’s tone was non-negotiable.

With a sigh, Caleb grabbed my wrist, deaf to my cry of protest. In his other hand was a small knife, and it was only when the swell of blood appeared on my skin that I realized he’d cut my wrist.

“What the fuck!” I tried to jerk my arm back, but his grip held me tight. When the shaman appeared beside me, I bit back my scream of outrage as the old man dipped his head and licked my blood like it was completely normal .

When he stepped back, Caleb let me go.

A wad of gauze was handed to me wordlessly by Doc, and I had it pressed against the wound as I looked around at them all, not understanding what was happening and, for the first time, feeling scared.

The shaman picked up a cup and took a drink, swirling it in his mouth. He spat back into the cup. In disbelief, I watched him as he focused on the contents of the cup.

“Human,” he confirmed. I opened my mouth to tell him he already knew that, but a look from Cannon silenced me. “Luna’s influence is light, but it’s there.” He looked up at me, frowning. “Alpha.” He held his hand out.

With wide eyes, I watched as Caleb cut his wrist smoothly, holding his arm out like the request merely inconvenienced him. He didn’t flinch when the shaman repeated the motion and licked his arm.

I was wrong before. These people were crazy.

I started to tell them that when the shaman looked at Caleb with so much sadness that tears rushed to my eyes, and I couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly felt overwhelmed with sorrow.

“Caleb,” he breathed. “No.”

Caleb’s black stare could have cut him in two. “Enough,” he commanded. “It ends now .”

The shaman shook his head. “I don’t think it can,” he told him softly. “She’s tied to you, Alpha. Luna deems it so.”

“Sever it,” Caleb spoke through gritted teeth.

“No. I couldn’t and…I won’t. This is what Luna wants.” The shaman looked between us both. “Your hate and rage…” He shook his head again in sympathy. “You know the path you are on, Alpha. Luna demands you turn back.”

“I’m fine .” His voice was like stone, and I almost, almost joked he sounded anything but fine, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.

“You’re spiraling,” Cannon spoke, looking down at Caleb’s hands, and I stepped back in shock when I saw the long, curved talons that had sprouted from his hands.

“What the?—”

Cannon stepped between us. “If you care about anything…about her … leave. Now.”

Care about her? Did he mean me? I tried to step around the giant in front of me, but a firm hand pushed me back.

“ Go now.”

I heard a crash, and after a few moments, I saw Cannon’s shoulders drop. I darted around him and saw the doors standing wide apart.

Caleb was gone.

“Caleb?” I ran to the door. “ Caleb !”

“You won’t catch him,” the shaman said tiredly as he sat down, halting my leaving.

Turning back to them, I didn’t think they appreciated how fucked up all of this was. “Where is he going? What happened?” Pushing my hair back, I felt tears spill over. “What is happening ? I don’t understand. Tell me what just happened?”

“He’s gone.” Cannon looked at me with sympathy.

“I can see that!” I snapped at him in frustration, trying to calm my racing heart. “Will he come back?”

He exchanged a look with the shaman. “I can’t answer that.”

“Then find me someone who can!” I yelled wildly, knowing that fear was riding my senses. I glared at the shaman. “ You ! You have all the answers, don’t you? Will he come back?”

Silence was my answer.

“What have you done?” I whispered, sinking into the couch.

Something solid but flexible was pushed into my hands, and looking down, I saw a sketch pad. Doc handed me a pen.

“Show us, Willow,” he told me. “Show us what we’ve done.”

With trembling fingers, I took the pen. My heart, oh my God, my heart was beating so fast. Pounding. I dropped the pen, my hands were shaking so badly.

“Breathe, Willow,” Doc spoke quietly, pressing the pen into my hands once more. “Focus.”

I didn’t hear him. I remembered the night in the truck with Caleb. The night I had a panic attack, and he breathed with me, calming me down. I saw his dark chocolate eyes, kind but full of secrets. I remembered how close we had been, breathing each other’s air. I remembered how it felt when he kissed me in the B&B. How I’d felt safe when he carried me up the mountain.

Steadying me.

I needed to calm down. This was for Caleb.

Focus .

I began to draw.