Chapter 25

Ch. 25: Julian

Freya's arrival has an immediate and positive effect on the atmosphere. The tension lifts, joy replaces anger, and our disagreements are forgotten—for now.

From the way he refuses to make eye contact, I know Dane is well aware the conversation isn't over. It's not something I'm looking forward to, either, but he needs to understand that forcing his will on me is an absolute no-go and a solid boundary in our relationship.

Meanwhile, I'm happy enough to let things rest as we welcome Freya to our home.

Dane's oldest sister is among the first of his family I'd ever met, and it's impossible not to love her. Aside from the fact she saved my life once, she's gorgeous, good-natured, and gratifying just to be around. She'd also given me at least one unfortunate nickname, which had stuck.

"Juju-bean!"

She catches me in a crushing, leather-clad embrace, and I wince.

"Hey, Frey." I grin up at her when she releases me, doing my best to extinguish the emotional coals still smoldering in my chest and to convey nothing but welcoming cheer. "How've you been?"

She shrugs and smiles crookedly. "Same ol' same ol'. Caught a vampire in New Orleans last week. That was fun."

Dane frowns at that. "You're being safe, I hope."

She winks as she joins us at the table, dropping into a chair. "Always and in every way."

Ingrid giggles as she serves Freya a bowl of soup, but Dane's frown deepens to a scowl. Overprotectiveness aside, I understand why he worries; dangerous bounties are one thing, but there are uglier, and more mundane perils out there. Born beautiful, Freya passes easily in all ways save one: few cis women are as tall as her.

"Stop." She leans over and hits his arm with the back of her hand. "You know I can handle myself, and anyone else, too. But you'll be happy to hear I got a hunting partner now—just like you wanted."

"You do?"

She smirks. "Mm-hm. He's kinda on-again-off-again, but he comes when I want him to."

Her playful tone suggests there's a double entendre in there somewhere, and Dane's scowl remains fixed in place.

"He?"

Freya rolls her eyes. "How 'bout we stop worrying over my business for a minute, and concentrate on you, hmm? What you got going on here?"

Over the course of our continued meal, during which Freya devours three large servings of soup and half a loaf of bread, we relate the events of the last few weeks.

"Skin-changers, huh?" She muses as she leans back in her chair. "Can't say I've encountered 'em before. They got a scent?"

Dane returns from the kitchen with a couple of beers and hands her one. "Possibly. It seems animals can detect them, but I haven't had a chance to find out if the same is true for Wolves."

Freya's brows lift with surprise. "What? Why not?"

Dane shrugs. "None of the scenes have been particularly 'wolf-accessible' so far."

"Hm. Well, lucky I'm here, then. My sense of smell is almost as good in this form as in my other," she explained for my benefit. "Which, believe me, is not always a blessing. Public restrooms are hell."

"We'll be glad for the help," Dane says. "But the case isn't why I called you here."

Freya arches a brow at him and glances between us. "Right. The land-bonding. You sure you two are ready for it? Kind of a big deal, you know."

I smile, grateful she included me in the question, and glance at Dane as he waits for me to answer first.

"Yeah, we're ready," I say. "We just had a rough day."

She nods. "Hm. Well, the ship that sails rough seas and doesn't sink is the one you wanna be on in the long run, I suppose."

***

"I'm sorry."

Dane sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for me when I emerge from the shower. Despite having slept for most of the day, after a few hours catching up with Freya, I'm ready for another nap.

"I know." I give him a tired smile and sit at his side. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean what I said."

Very quietly, he says, "Yes, you did. And you were right."

Startled, I lean away from him for a better view of his face. "What?"

"You said if the Fae stuff bothered me, I shouldn't have chosen a Fae for a mate. You're right."

I swallow. "Okay... and?"

"And I don't regret choosing you, Julian. I hope I never make you regret choosing me."

I release a breath before answering. "You haven't. But you understand why I'm angry, right?"

He nods. "I do. And I can't deny it frustrates me, sometimes, but I'm glad my alpha influence doesn't work on you. A strong alpha needs a strong mate."

"Both of your parents are alphas, right?"

He nods. "It's unusual for two alphas to mate. My parents make it work because they're equally matched, and their strengths complement each other. Just like yours and mine."

"You mean that?"

He smiles. "Yeah, I mean it. I'd still like you to avoid using your abilities—for a while, at least—and I'd like you to be wary of Halloran. But I won't tell you what to do."

I stare at him for a moment. When he'd used his 'alpha' on me, it felt like a strange, foreign pressure; a will that wasn't my own telling me to obey. Now I feel nothing of the sort.

Laughing lightly, I rest my head on his shoulder. "See? You can still get your way. All you have to do is ask."

"That's all, huh?" He smiles as he pulls back the covers and we arrange ourselves for sleep. "You know I'll beg if you want me to."

I snort. "I'm not that kinky."

He smiles and raises himself on his elbow to look down at me. "May I kiss you, Julian?"

My lips twitch with a half-suppressed smile as I lift my arms above my head and stretch.

"Nope. Sometimes you gotta take no for an answer, too."

Now you're just being a tease," he grumbles, pretending disappointment, but settles down obediently with his head resting on my chest and his arm around my waist.

He's a little heavy, but the weight and warmth of him are oddly pleasant. Whether it's a wolf thing or not, I know his need for comfort and reassurance is real, and he falls asleep listening to my heartbeat as I gently stroke his brow.

***

Despite my reluctance to admit it, Dane has a point. Reading bodies is never easy, but my experience with Stephanie had been especially brutal, and my reaction frightened me. Or, more accurately, Dane's reaction to my reaction frightened me: the fear in his eyes was real, and it had dredged up old memories I thought I'd buried deep in the past.

For whatever reason, my father had never revealed his nature to my mom, so when my abilities began to appear around age seven, she had no clue what was 'wrong' with me. Her maternal terror and the string of equally clueless doctors she'd dragged me to had taught me the only correct answer to a question like 'Are you okay, Julian?' is 'Yes.'

I'd learned to hide and suppress my nature so I wouldn't upset my mom. I was trying to unlearn that with Dane—to trust that I could be vulnerable without causing harm—and his fear of my 'Fae-ness' wasn't helping.

Neither was his distrust of Halloran—the only Fae I'd met this side of Faerie, and a blood relative to boot. Halloran had the knowledge and experience to help me in ways no one else could, and that—I suspected—was part of what Dane didn't like about him, and where our interests were most at loggerheads.

Dane sees my nature as a threat, but I don't want to hide from it anymore. I want to master it, as Dane has mastered his inner Wolf. Somehow, it feels like I won't truly be his equal until I do.

For the next few days, however, it's easy enough to keep my promises. I'm too tired to attempt anything more strenuous than light meditation, and I only hear from Halloran through Dane, who informs me that the autopsy confirms what I'd seen: Stephanie drowned, and there are indications she experienced pressures similar to what she'd have encountered at the deepest part of the reservoir—how she had gotten down there being a mystery to the human authorities, and pointing their suspicions toward murder.

In the meantime, Dane takes the lead on our investigations, with Freya filling in as his partner.

I can't deny I'm a little jealous of the way he places total and unhesitating trust in her—or of how cool she looks on her matte black Indian Chief Dark Horse; she's the walking definition of badass.

Over the following week, Dane and Freya revisit the lake as Wolves, scouring the shoreline and surrounding forest for clues. They return to the row of shops as well, attempting to pick up any trace of a scent, but they turn up nothing new.

I'm not surprised, given what little evidence we've discovered so far.

Meanwhile, I'm not the only one feeling a bit jealous and left out. After the third time Freya accompanies Dane for his nightly pre-ritual territory run, leaving Ingrid to 'guard the house,' it's clear she's been relegated to babysitting duty. Neither of us is happy about it.

"This is such bullshit," she grumbles, watching through the window as Dane and Freya emerge from around the side of the house as Wolves and take off across the meadow at an easy lope. "I was here first."

I can't help laughing at her pouty, little sister tone, and she frowns at me.

"What?"

"Nothing." I shake my head, smiling. "I was here first, too."

She relaxes and huffs. "Yeah. I mean, I get where Dane's coming from. Grandma or not, I'd be freaked if some old lady broke into my house in the middle of the night, too. And it's not like you can keep up with him as a Wolf."

I turn away and make a pretense of clearing the table, so she doesn't see my face.

She catches my reaction nonetheless and winces.

"Sorry. Touchy subject, I know."

I shrug. "I mean, I'd probably do the same thing in his place. And it's not like he's wrong. Using my gift takes its toll. I just wish I had more to show for it."

I huff a sigh of frustration and shut the dishwasher with a little more force than necessary. The feeling that there's something I'm missing, or failing to remember, persists. Every time I cast my memory over the impressions I got from Stephanie, it's as if some part of my vision is obscured—blocked out to hide something my brain just doesn't want to see. It's like trying to remember a half-faded dream, and yet I feel certain that if I could just focus...

The thought triggers a different memory, and I dash to the bedroom and retrieve the spell kit Danni had given me from where I'd stuffed it at the back of my sock drawer.

Returning to the living room, I gesture for Ingrid to join me as I clear a space and sit cross-legged on the floor, feeling a bit like a teenager about to mess with a ouija board.

"Fancy a little witchcraft?"

Ingrid laughs. "What?"

Quickly, I explain about Danni and the spell-kit.

"You believe in that stuff?" She raises a brow, and it's my turn to laugh.

"Most people don't believe in werewolves, you know. But no, I don't think just anyone can sit down with a candle and some crystals and work magic. I think magic, like a Gift, comes from within. The accouterments are just that—tools and props to help the practitioner channel intention and..." I shrug, "focus. Which is what I need."

Ingrid settles across from me as I open the little pouch and remove the contents: a card of instructions, a small white candle, a bundle of dried herbs, and the amethyst.

"Okay, how's it work?"

I hand her the card and she reads aloud.

"Spell for Mental Clarity and Focus. You will need: a small bowl or cup of purified water (not included)."

I jump up, retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen sink, and set it with the other things as I sit back down.

"Okay. What next?"

"Directions: Cast a circle." Ingrid looks up at me. "How do we do that?"

I shrug. "Never mind. Let me see the card."

She hands it over and I read through the rest of the instructions quickly. At its core, the spell isn't much different than what I do to ground myself before a reading, though there's more ritual involved.

"After clearing your mind and heart, place the water in the center of your sacred space. Stir the water clockwise three times and call on the element to ask its blessing. Light the candle, call upon fire, and pass the flame over the water three times. Light the herbs with the candle, call upon air, and pass the smoke over the water three times. Lastly, call upon earth, hold the stone in your hand, and concentrate upon your question. When you are ready, drop the stone into the cup, and drink the water. Let the elements guide your way."

"What should I do?" Ingrid asks.

"Just watch," I say, already slipping into a state of concentration. "I doubt anything will happen, but you can tell Dane you did your job."

Ingrid makes a face. "And if something goes wrong and he chews my head off, you can blame yourself."

I crack an eye open and squint at her. "Noted. Now be quiet."

She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me, reinforcing the feeling that we're a couple of kids breaking the rules at a sleepover, but obeys.

With my concentration restored, I turn back to the task at hand. It feels oddly natural, and as I slip deeper in a meditative state, what I can only call an instinct awakens.

When I reach for the water, a strange sensation fills my chest, and when I 'call' on the element, it seems to answer. From mountain springs to ocean waves, dark depths to blue clarity, the spirit of water fills my mind. The same occurs with fire when I light the candle, and especially with air—the element I seem most connected to, and I can almost feel a breeze stir about the room. Finally, as I grasp the amethyst, focus on what I want to know, and drop it into the water, the stillness of patience of earth settles in my mind.

Lifting the glass, I almost imagine I can see little sparkles of purple magic, like glitter catching the light, flickering within. Holding my question in my thoughts, I drink it down.

Something blooms and burns like a brand between my eyes, but I keep them shut as I call forth the memory—or Stephanie's memory—of the Shadowlands.

It's almost as if I'm there. Again, I smell the ashy damp scent of the air and the faint hint of decay; I see the monstrous trees stretching like skyscrapers into gray gloom; and I hear the whispers, chitters, and clicking croaks of unseen things.

The first time I'd experienced it, I couldn't separate myself from Stephanie; I'd felt the pain of her exertion in my chest and the thrill of her terror in my veins. This time, I retain my awareness of myself, and watch from a slight remove as I run with her memory; and this time, I distinguish more nuanced feelings amidst her fear.

Urgency, and purpose. She wasn't just running for her life, and she hadn't escaped without help.

As she stands before the deep, black pool at the base of a massive tree, its banks choked with dark ferns and its depths unknown, and as sobs of terror shake her bones in the face of death, a thought holds firm in her mind.

She had to try, and not just for herself. She had to bring help, if she could—for them.

For the children.

My eyes snap open as an involuntary gasp fills my lungs, and I find Ingrid staring at me, her dark eyes ringed in white.

"Julian?"

She sounds oddly uncertain, so I nod. "Yeah. I think it worked."

She blinks at me. "You don't say."

Her voice shakes a little, and then, as my attention expands to the rest of the room, I see why.

I hadn't cast a circle when I started, but I'm surrounded by one now. Ingrid and I sit at the center of what I can only describe as a glowing ring of Faerie light, but that's not what seems to have her attention.

"What is it?" I ask, as she continues to stare at me as if she's never seen me before. "What's wrong?"

She just shakes her head. "I think you better see for yourself."