Lychos Read online

  I glance up, see Shenka is blushing, holding out her robe to Sage, her thin tank top and pajama bottoms revealed. He smiles at her, covers up in the fluffy pink terrycloth while I stay close to him, wiping tears from my face, running my fingers through his dark hair. It’s been somehow restored from the horrible bleach job I gave him, as soft and rich in color as ever.

  “Of course,” Ethpeal says. “The Black Souls knew they created an immense new power. All the controls in the world would never have saved them if the weres had figured out how to evolve on their own.”

  Demetrius nods. “Exactly, my love,” he says, still smiling gently at Sage and me. “And even more so, if the werewolves had been permitted to find their true form—to become full wolves—they surely would have worked it out.”

  “So we don’t lose our humanity,” I whisper.

  “No, my dear,” Demetrius says. “Though it seems the sorcery will lock you in wolf form the first time until you’re freed of sorcery by one strong enough to do so.”

  I weep for all the wolves lost to us because we believed full form meant they were animals. It happened rarely, but enough, by accident or out of grief, weres sometimes retreated to the body of the animal to escape the life we were forced to endure. Now I know the full extent of the lie and can only feel grief for those who thought relief awaited them, to be trapped in a wolf’s form with a human’s mind forever.

  I wish the Black Souls still lived. I would make sure they suffered as much as my people for this.

  “It’s time to talk to those who need to back the hell off.” Sassafras’s tail twitches. “Namely, the Enforcers.”

  “Agreed,” Ethpeal says, voice snapping with irritation. “I’ll deal with them myself if I have to.”

  I laugh out loud, euphoria taking over a moment as I wipe tears from my face. So much has happened, so many revelations, I’m a wreck. But this swing to happy is preferable to the tears I shed for my people. Sage smiles at me, kisses me softly. I touch his face, run my fingers over the scar on his shoulder. “That won’t be necessary,” I say. “Sage and I will go talk to Erica personally. And then we go home and put an end to the slavery of my people once and for all.”

  I feel the snap of the shields around the house, tense as Shenka flares with blue fire. My hope for the future is forgotten at the intrusion. Quaid rushes for the stairs to head off the invader, but we all hear the footsteps running through the house, the pounding of them moving down the stairs so fast he doesn’t have time to act. I stare in shock as my father staggers the last step, falling into Quaid’s arms.

  “Raoul.” Ethpeal approaches him, touches his arm. My father straightens, dark eyes full of anxiety. I’m surprised to see him. I haven’t heard a word from him in a very long time, not since his decision to leave the pack and wander on his own. He ignores Ethpeal, pushing free of Quaid, before turning on me as the family magic flutters around him. It must have let him in because he’s my blood, but it’s unsure of him, as much as I am.

  “What are you doing here?” Ever since my father abandoned his duty to Syd, he'd chosen to live a lone wolf, outside of the pack. Which means he’s no longer eligible to take the throne. I still feel bitterness toward him for his second failure to fulfill his duty, so my tone is sharper than perhaps it should be. But I’ve been through a great deal and I’m in no mood to coddle him.

  “Charlotte.” He grasps my arms where Sage once held me, shaking me a little. My love growls at him as though still a wolf but my father ignores him. “You must return home at once.”

  I pull free, shaking my head. “You gave up the right to give me orders years ago,” I snap.

  “You don’t understand.” His voice holds a wail of despair. “It’s not for me I beg you.” Fear laces through my stomach as he sags before me, a broken werewolf, long damaged. “Your grandfather is in terrible danger. Cicero Caine has been elected wereking.”

  ***

  Chapter Seven

  He has to bring this to me now, to feel his own weak sense of responsibility when I can’t do as he asks. I’m saved from having to humiliate my father when Ethpeal interjects herself, pushing him back and away from me.

  “And why,” she asks in a cold and terrible voice, “are you here if Oleksander is in such danger?” We all wait for a response, but he simply stares at me, mute and anguished. She turns her back on him when he doesn’t answer. “Charlotte,” she says, tone low, bitter chill gone from her words, “what do you want us to do?”

  Part of me wants to plead “why me?” when she looks at me like that. But before I can allow that shred of fear to rise, I feel the wereprincess I am wake to the occasion. Maybe if my father hadn’t come, I would have allowed the scrap of weakness life. But no, I am Oleksander’s granddaughter, no matter my father’s flaws, and I will not allow Caine to hurt my people further. “Raoul Moreau,” I snap, though he does not deserve the name, nor has he ever upheld his own father’s honor. “You will return to Ukraine, to the true king’s side, and you will protect him with your life until I come for him.” Zoe’s voice echoes in my head even as I argue with myself. I have to go home. I can’t trust this to my worthless father.

  But I can’t go.

  He shakes his head, panic on his face. “I am a disgrace,” he says, glancing at Sage a moment with a wince of recognition, before turning back to me. I can only guess Raoul is judging Sage, or is that guilt? But does my father understand what Sage has become? It doesn’t matter right now. “I cannot go back.”

  My hand lashes out, claws extended as the wolf in me reacts. She strikes him across the face, blood spilling over his skin, running to drip from his beard onto his rumpled jacket. I watch the cuts seal even as he turns his head from me. Shame, so much shame, and old anger. This is my father, but I am embarrassed to know him, to call him so. I am a Moreau, but he isn’t any longer.

  “It is well Mother died when she did,” I say, my wolf growling behind my voice. “She would have perished from humiliation had she lived to see what you’ve become.”

  Raoul, for I will call him Father no more, lifts his head and meets my eyes. A spark of rage lives on in him. Good, let it bubble, let the resentment and bitterness give him a spine if he won’t grow his own. Too many years serving the Dumonts have made him weak and fearful, I see it now. I clung to my mother’s teachings all those years, but he remembered nothing of who he was. How often did he fail me when Andre and his sons used me for sport? Perhaps I’m being unkind, since neither of us had any choices then. But the explosive fury I feel bursts like a rupture in my gut, hate, bitterness and old rage waking though I never knew it existed.

  My father was a victim then, but I refused to allow myself to be one. And he might have failed me, himself, all of the werenation, but I won’t let him fail again. If I can push him to act in anger, maybe there is hope he will do as I say.

  “You are a Moreau,” I say, though my wolf sniffs at that title, knowing he doesn’t deserve to carry the name. “And your father needs you. Now, bury your fear, coward, and do your damned duty. For once, put others ahead of your miserable self-preservation.”

  He growls at me, face altering, elongating as his wolf emerges. I meet him with my own, my muzzle feeling hot on my human face.

  Raoul backs down, but finally nods. Have I woken his pride or merely hurt him enough he knows I’m his master? The answer doesn’t matter, but I almost wish I knew if I could rely on him for the right reasons. “I obey your order, Your Highness,” he says. “What would you have me do?”

  Can’t he think for himself? I will not let pity ruin this moment, or softness give him relief. Raoul is a broken man, shattered by years of torment, as much as the Dumonts tried to break me. I have no idea what was done to him, the scope of his own torture. And yet, here I stand, powerful despite the best Andre could dish out. What is the difference between Raoul and I that he failed so long ago and I remained strong?

  “Break our king out of prison,” I say. “Raise an army of sympathetic we
res if you must, but rescue Oleksander before Caine can harm him.”

  “It would go better with you at my side.” He licks his lips, face returned to normal, as has mine.

  “I can’t come with you.” Nor do I have time to explain the Oracle’s orders, or contemplate the sick worry she might be wrong. I’m trusting her as I only trust Syd. Why is that? I can’t say for certain, though the burning fire we shared in the back of the stolen SUV still seethes inside me and tells me this choice is the right one, no matter my fears. “You must do this alone, Raoul.” I reach out and squeeze his shoulder, anger seeping away. I must reach him on a more emotional level, appeal to his pride and loyalties, whatever remains of them. I think of what Shenka said in the back yard, the word that triggered my own agreement to relent. And though perhaps it’s a terrible thing to manipulate the werewolf who fathered me, I will not allow my guilt to hold me back. “For our family’s honor.”

  His eyes flicker to Sage, anger returning. “Your people are more important than some revenant.”

  This time when I hit him, I don’t restrain my anger. Raoul spins sideways as he crashes into the stairs, groaning softly, collapsing under the pressure of my magic. I cross to stand over him, hands fisted at my sides as my wolf howls inside me and my need to crush him almost does the same to me.

  “Listen to me,” I snarl, “because I will only say this once. You will obey or I will kill you myself.” He doesn’t comment, doesn’t try to shield himself from further blows, just lies there. “I am about to turn werelaw into history, rewrite everything we know about our people. This is bigger than Oleksander, bigger than you. Than me. This is our race I’m fighting for.” For the first time, I know I speak truth. This isn’t some selfish need to save the man I love. This is for the entire werenation. And I won’t let them down ever again.

  Raoul pulls himself to his feet, nods. “Understood, Your Highness.” He pauses. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You won’t be doing it alone.” Ethpeal comes forward, tugging on Demetrius’s hand, though when his look of surprise fades, she doesn’t have to encourage him. “We’re coming with you.”

  Raoul looks like he wants to protest, but I allow him to feel my power again. “They will be of invaluable assistance,” I say. “Listen to their counsel and rescue my grandfather.”

  Ethpeal hugs me quickly as Raoul turns and heads up the stairs. We’ll make sure he’s okay, she sends. I promise you.

  Thank you. I hug her back, relief awake and alive. I don’t have to go home. I trust Syd’s grandmother and her husband, if not my own father. If anyone can save Oleksander, it’s them.

  I stand at the bottom of the stairs, listening to them exit the back door, feel the pull of sorcery as one or both of the married pair open a tunnel to Ukraine. I turn back to the others as my father leaves with Ethpeal and Demetrius, ready to apologize for my behavior, only to gasp as Shenka runs forward and embraces me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “But I know your grandfather will be okay.”

  I nod to her, try to smile. “I have to believe it.” And if Zoe Helios proves to be wrong, if her little foretelling means the death of my grandfather or the detriment of my people, I will hunt her down and make her pay for her deception. Later. For now, I will trust the bit of magic she left with me and hope the trauma she spoke of doesn’t mean the death of someone I love.

  Quaid stirs, glances at the stairs. “I hate to break up the party,” he says. “But the longer you stay here, the more dangerous this is.”

  I nod quickly. “You’re right.” I take Sage’s hand, loving the feeling of his skin on mine. “Though maybe some real clothes might be a better choice for meeting Erica the first time?”

  Shenka is so adorable when she blushes, turning to the cardboard boxes behind her while Sassafras’s tail swishes.

  “Vanity,” he sniffs. “I highly doubt she’ll care what he’s wearing when she has the pair of you arrested.”

  “You think it’s a bad idea?” I crouch to face the silver Persian.

  “I didn’t say that,” he grumbles. “But I know Erica better than most of you. And she’s not exactly the perfect person for her particular job.” His amber eyes seem old to me, wise, though he still speaks with the voice of a demon boy. “Just be careful. And have an exit strategy.”

  I nod, stroking his fur, as Shenka crosses and hands Sage some clothes. “Always,” I say. “Want to come along for the ride?”

  He snorts. “Finally, someone realizes my value. But no.” He swishes his tail again. “I’m needed here. You can take care of yourself.”

  Sassafras’s job has always been to watch over the children and I respect him for his choice. “Then stop interfering,” I say, swatting his tail.

  He bares his teeth at me. “So much for respect.” He head-butts my hand. “Please,” he whispers. “Be careful.”

  I stand as he runs up the stairs and leaves us behind, the door whispering closed as he pushes his way through. I turn to find Sage sorting through some jeans while Shenka turns her back, hugging herself and grinning. I wink at her before nodding to Quaid.

  He nods back, looking relieved, though I know it’s just the kids he worries about, and if push came to shove, Quaid would never let anyone hurt us. “Time to get you two to Harvard.”

  Someone pounds on the kitchen door the moment he’s done speaking.

  Someone with Enforcer magic and an unwillingness to take no for an answer.

  ***

  Chapter Eight

  Quaid’s feet pound on the stairs as he rushes up to the kitchen. I want to follow him, to protect him if I can, but Shenka blocks me with magic, dark eyes snapping blue power.

  “Let him deal with them,” she says. “He might be able to talk them down.”

  I listen, tense, hand holding Sage’s as Shenka returns to rummage further through a cardboard box just out of the reach of the light. A soft blue glow casts her in eerie shadows as her hovering witchlight dances over her head. She joins us a moment later with a final pair of jeans and a t-shirt for Sage. He accepts them with a smile and slips the clothes on while Shenka turns away, blushing again.

  Her reaction would be adorable if I weren’t so afraid.

  Someone steps across the threshold of the kitchen, the Enforcer power having a hard time breaking through the wards. But I hear Pender’s voice and know Quaid will not be able to shield us much longer. My ears strain for actual words, but I hear only the muffled sound of a low argument. First Quaid, then Pender, back again. Sage jerks his t-shirt down over his flat stomach just as two more people cross the family magic and my hackles rise.

  I don’t have to hear their voices to know they are werewolves. And from the tainted feeling of them, they belong to Caine’s pack. I’m not surprised then to make out the deep tone of Roman’s voice, nor that of his sister, Viveca. The North American Council must have agreed to include Caine’s beta and his sibling in the Enforcer’s search.

  The next time I see Erica, I’m going to make sure she understands just how unhappy her choice has made me.

  The already crowded kitchen above swells with two more bodies of power, witches. I make out Finlay’s gravel tone with a start of surprise. That means the second must be Gwendolyn. The pair always work together. Has Femke sent the witch pairing to support the werewolves, or to protect Sage and me? I have no way of knowing, though I hope it’s the latter.

  I can’t kid myself about the European leader’s position. She must uphold the law, keep the peace, stay out of the conflicts of other races, even if that means turning us over when I know she doesn’t want to.

  An argument breaks out above, so loud I wince and turn to Shenka. “We have to get out of here.” Footsteps approach the basement door, power pushing ahead of it. Shenka scowls, the family magic rising to lick at her legs in blue flames. I feel the family through her, their willingness to protect us, no matter what that might mean for the Hayle coven.

  And though a wash of gratitude that stings my
eyes with tears and tightens my throat almost consumes me at their loyalty, I can’t allow this to go on.

  Pender’s voice answers Quaid’s angry tone, his words coming clearly through the door at the top of the stairs.

  “I’m very sorry,” he says. “But there is a formal extradition order for the two werewolves hiding in your basement. And I must obey the law.”

  Shenka spins on us, pushing against me physically with both hands. “Hide,” she hisses as the door opens.

  I don’t know what she expects. There’s nowhere to go. But as Sage and I fade into the shadows, I feel the family embrace us fully, their power cloaking us in magic, and as I reach out to them with my own power, Sage’s answers. A bubble of energy swallows us whole, dimming the light in the room and I realize we’re being hidden by illusion or some magical means. I’m certain Pender will be able to see right through it, and my mind turns to defense and escape by any means as I try to work out a plan.

  Pender descends, black robe flowing around him, Quaid close on his heels. The two werewolves follow after, Viveca sniffing the air, her beautiful face ugly in its hate. Roman’s shoulders hunch forward as he ducks to clear the low ceiling, hulking darkness making my skin crawl. Viveca hates me, I can only guess, because she’s jealous Caine wants me instead of her. Roman just hates.

  I catch a glimpse of Gwen and Finlay as Shenka slams up a wall of power in front of Pender, her fury obvious on her pinched face. I’ve never seen her so angry before and am actually a little nervous she might take things further than she should.

  “How dare you?” Her voice vibrates, not with emotion, but with power as the family answers her, the immensity of the Hayle coven’s magic flowing around her in a whirling tornado as they answer her call. “You break coven law, invading territory without cause, after segregating and imprisoning our coven in our own homes for days.” She doesn’t attack, simply stares with growing scorn at the leader of the Enforcers. “For shame, Pender Tremere.”