Kept (17 page)

“She didn’t know I was in the truck. Roscoe told her nothing. Even the wizard couldn’t see me.” She thought for a moment. “She had a choice and could have used the wizard to help them escape from us. The wolf made a wise choice tonight.”

While she talked, I tried to get a handle on how this child could speak so much like an adult. When she turned to face me, I almost fell into the penetrating gaze of her green eyes. “I heard what you said to the wizard when you spoke to him on the phone. To your family. You have honor, and I like that about you.”

I was taken aback. It must’ve shown on my face.

“Don’t worry, Little Wolf. I’m hungry to feast on wolves tonight—and I shall feast, at dawn—but not on you.” She smiled, her teeth small and her face angelic. Yet her eyes revealed something far different.

She finally let go of my hand. “No one is to touch these people,” she said to the gathered fairies. “Is that clear?”

The heads surrounding us bowed.

I looked at the girl again and fear sliced through me. What was she? Was she their leader? From the way they obeyed her orders, she had to be royalty of some kind. Which meant things had definitely gone downhill. No wonder the others thought I was nuts.

“We have work to do to fix what I have broken,” she called out to the others. “Because it is winter, we are at
our weakest, but that won’t stop me from going after them. Prepare the truck. We have a pack of wolves to meet before dawn.”

She had an exuberant grin on her face, but that didn’t make me feel any better. It was the sign of impending doom, of a bloodbath waiting to come. Especially since the child queen was hungry.

The spindly woods of Jackson, Maine, folded over us, sending fear through me of what was to come.

Would the Jackson pack know about the trick we were about to tell them? They’d have no reason to suspect, and no way of telling. Or would they? It wasn’t as if even I knew what was coming. Would the Jackson pack really take—and then kill—the decoy? Hell, how were the werewolves planning on taking their prize out of the truck safely in the first place? She was dangerous, just as Nick had told me.

The others sat next to me, quiet, focused on the road ahead. We’d been this way since the fairies had told Abby, Heidi, and I to climb back into the truck and wait while Nick worked out details with the fairies.

The truck and the deal was my affair, but they still told me to wait inside while they sorted out a replacement for Lisbetta. What I guessed was that while a replacement got inside, the fairies fixed the damage to the door and Nick resealed it with iron.

Everything felt like it was before. Only something had changed. No more attacks from the fairies. And what now frightened me the most were the Jackson werewolves. There’s one thing wolves didn’t do very well with other wolves. And that was lying. One’s scent betrayed everything, and I was already on edge from this trip. A few words out of my mouth and they’d easily smell my deceit.

It didn’t matter, though. I’d done the right thing, and
if I was lucky, the replacement would ensure that Lisbetta was no longer in danger. Grandma would be proud of me.

“Do I need to hold your hand again?” Nick whispered to me.

“Not unless you want it broken,” I said after laughing a bit.

His words could hold other, hidden meanings, but I’m sure if he held my hand it would be merely to take my anxiety away.

I wished this was all over. I only had a bit more to go. Once there, we could do the transfer, then I’d return to Atlantic City and see Roscoe, ending the Stravinsky moon debt. It sounded easy enough.

The meeting place with the Jackson pack was a clearing deep within their territory, in a park not far from Frye Mountain. The area couldn’t compare to Double Trouble State Park near my home, but this forest nevertheless called out to me. It begged me to explore its nooks and crannies. I asked Nick to roll down the window as we drove deeper into the park. Bits of light from the coming dawn filtered through the trees. The cold air blew into the truck, and I savored the scents of pine and ash. A few winter cottontails had emerged from their burrows. They’d be prey—
my
prey—if they didn’t watch out.

Frost covered the windows in patches, but no one complained. The fresh air was welcome and allowed me to drift away.

Naturally, Nick brought me back to the present.

“Are you prepared for the possibility that they might figure out the ruse?”

“Not really. Maybe we could run?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “If my guess is right, we’re dealing with spring fairies. They’re a busy bunch—but they normally keep to themselves.”

Questions instantly came to mind. “Why would Roscoe want a spring fairy?”

“For nefarious purposes. They’re a source of magic just waiting to be tapped by any capable spellcaster. Of all the fairies, spring fairies have the most power. Moreover, they’re most powerful in the spring; during the other seasons, they simply gather their strength in preparation for renewing the earth. So Roscoe picked the perfect time to sell Lisbetta to an interested buyer. That little girl is at her weakest right now, can’t really defend herself—which might be why her people used dark elves to hunt for her, since the elves’ magic isn’t affected by the seasons.”

“This makes no damn sense. It’s wintertime. It’s almost like that asshole’s trying to sell an empty well with no water,” Heidi grumbled.

“She won’t be empty come spring,” Abby said quietly.

Nick said, “Precisely. And anyone who’s met a fairy or two knows they’re not particular about how they renew their magic either.”

My stomach flipped, thinking about how Lisbetta smelled my life force. But then again, I wasn’t the one Roscoe wanted to sell. “What kind of werewolf needs a fairy?”

Nick stoically confirmed what I’d already guessed. “A werewolf who knows old magic.”

Spring fairies. Old magic spell-casting werewolves. Russian mafia werewolves selling spring fairies to old magic spell-casting werewolves. No matter how I tried to piece it all together, this whole mess didn’t look any better—and worse, I’d dragged all my friends into it.

“I should’ve dropped you two off,” I said to Heidi.

She shrugged. “Not going to happen. And you can’t drive this thing worth a shit.”

“You know what I’m saying—things could get bad
with these people. I don’t want you or Abby to get hurt.”

She glanced at me briefly. “You know what I’m saying as well, so shut up and stop your hands from shaking. You need to look strong in front of those people.”

I looked at my trembling fingers. How had I not noticed them? I clenched my hands into fists. A voice in my head repeated everything that could go wrong. They’ll
know
the replacement isn’t the child. It wouldn’t
smell
right. It wouldn’t
say
the right thing. What if they ask it questions? What if Roscoe’s here waiting for the shipment?

“We’re here,” Heidi said.

“I need to get out. My legs are going numb.”

The Muse followed the mermaid out of the truck, and I took in the clearing. Over the ridge to my right, I spotted smoke from a fire. Were they here already? Since we were downwind, my nose told me no wolves had walked here in a while.

Nick opened his door. When I climbed out after him, I heard the sounds of steps through snow. Broken twigs. So they
were
here, and they’d smelled us coming.

By the time I came around the truck, fifty or so pairs of eyes stared me down. A bunch of wolves, in human form, glancing from me to the truck.

A man—the alpha of the pack, judging from his scent—addressed me, his black eyes warning me not to look at him directly for too long. “Roscoe told us you’d never make it.”

My mouth filled with glue. When I tried to speak, my words came out thick. “I’ve always been full of surprises.”

“Who are these people?” He eyed my friends.

“They helped me drive the truck. I’m not too good at handling a big rig.” So far so good.

The leader nodded to his cohorts behind them. “Secure
the truck.” He gestured at my friends. “Back away from it. Now.” Since he was an alpha, his command snapped me to attention, and I quickly backed away. My friends didn’t move as swiftly.

My heart raced as the Jackson pack approached the truck. One of the wolves, a woman with Eastern European features who appeared to be around my mother’s age, checked the lock. She had a peculiar strawberry-colored birthmark on her olive-skinned cheek. It looked almost as if she’d been slapped recently. The wind blew at her brown hair and rustled the thin coat around her generous waist.

She sniffed at the lock and then ran her fingers along an edge while murmuring under her breath. I caught a faint whiff of ozone, the telltale sign of old magic. So she was one of the wolves who knew the forbidden magic.

“The lock’s clean,” she called to the Jackson pack leader.

He nodded, his gaze on me.

I prayed he didn’t ask about the truck’s contents, or the trip.

“Did you have any trouble along the way?” he asked.

Of course he’d ask me that question
.

“As much trouble as you’d expect while driving a dump truck with a magical lock on it.”

His smirk wasn’t friendly. “Prepare for the opening, Tamara.”

The woman growled. “Not with that wizard close by. I can feel the weight of the weapons he’s hiding in his coat. He’s been watching me this whole time. Tell him to back off.”

The rest of the wolves closed in on my friends. Naturally, Nick’s hand hovered near the edge of his coat. But the tricks within would get us into trouble. Fast.

“They’ll back off.” My hand went up, and slowly the three of them walked toward the forest line.

Nick suddenly stopped. “She comes with us.”

“You’re interfering in pack business, wizard. Keep your spells out of our affairs or I’ll rip you and your coat to bloody bits.” The warning slid black and bitter from the pack leader’s mouth.

I mouthed to Nick, “Go.”

Nick didn’t move. Damn stubborn white wizard.

The Muse and the mermaid continued moving until they stood at the edge of the clearing.

“Don’t fuck with me, wizard,” the pack leader warned. “There’s a lot more of me than there is of you.”

“That might be true, but you must respect me enough to allow me to stand here.” Nick put his hands up and placed them on top of his hat. Almost as if to allow a compromise, I hoped.

Satisfied, the Jackson pack leader nodded to the woman.

Tamara was leaning in close to the truck to examine the lock. I just about shuddered when she stretched out her palm to touch the door. It was still a dump truck after all—even if it had been repaired by fairies. They’d done a fabulous job making it appear as disgusting as it had before. Tamara rubbed her fingers over the lock—and then she put them into her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered.

What. The. Hell
. I almost vomited in my mouth.

“I’m ready to open it now,” the woman proclaimed. “It’ll just take a few minutes to remove the binding spell.”

The pack leader nodded. He motioned for the wolves to stand ready while Tamara did her job. The forest turned silent when she grunted, and then her voice settled into a deep hum. The sound reverberated through me and tickled the skin on my face.

Tamara’s back hunched over, and her facial muscles twitched. Hair sprouted along her jawline as the change
bubbled forth. Her limbs elongated. Memories of a night not so long ago with my grandmother came to mind. Back when the Long Island pack hunted the South Toms River pack, they’d sent the Burlington pack to hunt down my family in my aunt’s home. They’d poisoned our food. I was lucky that I didn’t eat it and thus didn’t fall asleep. But I witnessed something I couldn’t wipe from my mind. My grandmother had invoked the old magic, and her body had changed into a vicious creature to fight off our enemies. She’d saved my life—but at the price of losing a bit of her own.

Tamara’s features turned hideous. Her clawed hands sizzled against the lock. Did she need to transform into that creature to fight against the black warlock magic securing the lock?

Nick had said the spell was strong, but any wizard could break it with a little help. Tamara wrenched at it, her hands turning red and blistering from prying it open. The act made the air stink with an acidic scent.

We waited patiently for some time before the lock finally fell to the ground, with a plume of smoke and an audible hiss.

I held my breath, wanting to look away, but I couldn’t. I had to know that they were seeing the right thing. That they’d see the child and not the decoy—not some guy who’d forgotten to cast his “I’m-a-fairy-child” spell before the door opened.

To my relief, what appeared to be Lisbetta sat in the center with her legs crossed. She stared at us fearfully.

While Tamara clapped her grotesque claws and cackled with glee, the replacement cringed. My chest tightened when the wolves swarmed the truck. They climbed inside, and I wanted to spit on all of them. They had no idea that it wasn’t Lisbetta in the back; in their minds, they were threatening a child.

“Be careful, boys. The bracelet she’s wearing should
keep her subdued, but Roscoe told me she’s got quite a bite on her,” the pack leader said with a smile.

One of them, an older-looking wolf with the others in the back, said, “I’ve seen worse, Karl, but she’ll be worth it.” The wolf’s speech then slipped into a tongue I didn’t know. Most likely German, from the sound of it, but I didn’t need to understand the words to recognize the need to pay attention to the collar they passed to the older wolf. It was small and, judging from the vibrations emanating from it, enchanted by black magic. So that was how they planned to further contain her.

These piece-of-shit bastards were just as bad as Roscoe.

The replacement hissed in the truck, but from my vantage point, I couldn’t see inside well. The only thing I spied was a wolf flying through the air from the back. Then another.

Karl laughed, his breath sending mist into the air. “Now, this is the fight I expected.”

The truck rocked and shifted. Growls and barks emerged from the back.