Panic claws at my stomach as Isolde’s news ignites every protective instinct I possess.
I need to get back to protect my children and my pack.
“Andres at Black Crater already? We still have days before the Supermoon Are you sure?” My voice is sharp, channeling the urgency of an Alpha and mother.
Isolde’s expression is grim as she meets my gaze. “I was maintaining the wards outside when I got a call—my coven has scouts in Black Crater. They’ve seen him, Ella, and he’s not alone. They’re setting up something big—fortifications. It looks planned and serious.”
Stone’s jaw tightens, his stance protective beside me. “Who’s with him? Did they see?”
I sense he’s thinking about the local packs and trying to determine who would be brave enough to ally with Andres.
“Details were hard to come by without compromising their position, but it’s clear he’s not alone. There are significant magical signatures,” Isolde explains, her phone clutched tightly in her hand as if it’s a lifeline. “My assumption is they still have witches employed.”
“We need to move—now,” I state flatly, the decision firm in my mind.
Every second we delay could be disastrous.
“You’ll never make it in time by car.” Jinx shakes her head, her jaw clenched tight. Then, she turns to her sister. “What about teleportation?”
Trudie nods slowly. “Right, teleportation could work, but who can we call? Marcus is out—he still hasn’t forgiven you for that New Orleans incident.”
Jinx rolls her eyes. “Damn. And I owe Lucia money.”
“Of course, you do,” Trudie says, planting a hand on her hip. “What about Victor?”
“Isn’t that old bastard dead?” Jinx scrunches her brow, her lips twisting to the side.
While they bicker, Stone and I exchange looks of confusion and growing impatience.
“Can someone explain what’s going on? Teleportation? Is that even a thing?” I demand, frustration coloring my tone as we stand there, wasting precious minutes.
Jinx, catching the urgency—and the confusion—in my voice, waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, it’s a thing. Not common, but for emergencies, it’s perfect. We just need someone who won’t botch it.”
Suddenly, Trudie’s phone rings.
Her eyes flare as she checks the screen. She answers quickly, her expression shifting from concern to surprise.
“Yes, Diana, we’re all together,” Trudie says. She listens intently, nodding as she paces a small circle. “Yes, it’s urgent. We were just discussing how to... Really? He can? That would be incredible.” Her face brightens as she glances up with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude. “Thank you, Diana. We’ll be ready.”
Before Trudie can even end the call, a shimmering ripple distorts the air in the center of the Integratron. The fabric of reality seems to fold in on itself, and with a soft pop, a figure materializes.
He’s an older gentleman, his wavy white hair neatly trimmed, framing a face that bears the marks of many years but with a twinkle of youth still evident in his eyes. His suit is impeccably tailored, and the bright pink undershirt he wears underneath adds a quirky contrast that seems to match his off-center demeanor.
“Ah, splendid,” the man exclaims with a grandiose sweep of his hand. His voice carries a melodious accent that hints at ancient origins. “You must be the lovely individuals Diana mentioned from her vision. My name is Kyros, and I am happily at your service.”
Stone and I exchange a glance, both taken aback by the sudden appearance of this man and his flamboyant introduction.
Kyros claps his hands together, looking between us. “Well, don’t be shy. Who needs to be whisked away, and where to? Diana mentioned Black Crater, Oregon. A bit of a tricky spot, but nothing I can’t handle. I’ve studied the Google.”
The Google?
I shake my head, unsure if it’s actually all that wise to go with him.
Stone steps forward. “I’ll go first.”
Shit, looks like we are.
I place a hand on his arm. “No, Stone. I’m the Alpha. It’s my responsibility to lead. I should be the first to arrive.”
“But you don’t know what you’ll return to. I should—”
“No,” I reiterate, infusing my tone with just enough power.
The room fills with tense energy as Stone and I stand, locked in a silent battle of wills.
“Ah, a spirited debate—how delightful,” Kyros chuckles, then quickly sobers. “However, my dears, there’s no need for dispute. I can take you both simultaneously. It might be a tad more... exhilarating than usual but fear not. You’re in capable hands. I’ve even done it once before.”
Jinx coughs. “Once?”
Kyros, puffs his chest, clearly flustered. “Well, ordinarily, I prefer to travel with only one other, but I assure you—”
“Are there any... side effects we should be aware of?” I ask, my voice cautious as I consider the potential risks.
God, am I even considering this?
I guess I am.
Kyros nods sagely, his expression turning serious. “Indeed, the journey can be jarring. Some experience nausea and disorientation. More than once I’ve seen people lose their lunch. It’s the price of bypassing the usual constraints of space and time. But worry not, I’ll ensure you arrive as gracefully as possible.”
As the weight of the situation presses upon us, I turn to address Kyros directly, “Can you take all of us at once?”
Kyros hesitates, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Ideally, I would prefer to take you and the gentleman first, then return for the others. It’s the most efficient method without overtaxing the magical boundaries and ensuring everyone’s safety.”
Stone nods in agreement but looks to me for the final decision.
“Okay,” I agree, wishing there was another way because this sounds bonkers. “Let’s do it.”
Isolde steps forward. “I’ll go next. My abilities might be necessary if you run into any magical traps or barriers when you return.”
Jinx crosses her arms and gives a rueful smile. “And I’ll be driving. Trust me, teleporting is not in the cards for me—not after last time. Nearly ended up inside a tree. My chaos energy will blow your circuits, Kyros. My car’s fast, and I’ll bring Trudie and the gear. We’ll be there as quick as demonly possible.”
Trudie nods, clearly relieved at the arrangement.
Kyros claps his hands decisively, the sound echoing slightly in the tense air of the Integratron. “Very well. Would you two please come closer? I require physical contact to maintain a stable connection.”
Stone and I step forward, positioning ourselves beside Kyros. He instructs us to hold his hands, creating a physical link between the three of us.
Kyros’s expression is serious despite the faint twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Focus on your desired destination. Visualize it as clearly as you can in your minds.”
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and picture the Sacred Grove in Black Crater—its stone circle embedded in the middle of the woods. The visualization comes so naturally, that it’s almost like tapping into the astral plane.
I can smell the mossy scent of the stones and hear the whisper of the wind through the leaves. Beside me, I feel Stone’s grip tighten, a silent affirmation of our shared resolve and focus.
Kyros nods once, apparently satisfied with our preparations. “Very well.”
There’s no chanting, no grand gestures. Instead, Kyros simply closes his eyes, and the world shifts beneath us.
The sensation is immediate and disorienting—like being sucked through a narrow, bending tube at an impossible speed.
The next moment, we’re standing in the Sacred Grove, but the transition isn’t gentle. The abrupt stop leaves both Stone and me staggering, clutching at each other for support as waves of nausea wash over us.
Because of the connection to Stone, it’s like I’m experiencing motion sickness times two.
My stomach churns violently, and the world spins dizzyingly around us. It takes every ounce of willpower not to collapse or succumb to the urge to vomit.
It doesn’t work. I fall to my knees and hurl up my dinner.
As the initial wave of nausea begins to subside, another sensation takes over—my senses are suddenly, painfully heightened.
The moonlight is too bright, the colors too vivid. Sounds are magnified to an overwhelming cacophony. Somehow, the rustling leaves sound like thunder, and the distant nighttime sounds are unbearable. The usually comforting smell of the forest is now a potent mix that borders on sickly.
Stone groans beside me, his hands pressed to his temples.
“Everything is... too much,” he mutters, his voice strained and way too loud to my ears. It’s like he’s yelling but I know he’s not.
I nod in agreement, unable to speak as the chorus of the forest assaults my ears.
Kyros, who seems only mildly affected, watches us with concern. “The side effects of teleportation can be quite intense, especially when combined with your already heightened senses. It will pass, but you must try to focus, to ground yourselves.”
We don’t have time for this.
The thought brings a clawing panic through my chest.
How long will this last?
Drawing in a shaky breath, I try to heed his advice, focusing on the literal ground. I bend over, away from the vomit, and rest my head against the cool stones.
“I will return post haste with Isolde,” Kyros says so softly it’s almost a whisper. Yet inside my head, it vibrates like standing beside a firetruck’s horn blast.
With a soft pop, Kyros vanishes, leaving Stone and me to contend with our disorientation and heightened senses.
As the world stabilizes, a chill sweeps through the air—not from the evening, but from a tangible sense of dread that seems to seep from the very stones of the Sacred Grove.
Stone and I reach out to support each other as we stand cautiously. Our senses strain against the heightened awareness that makes every shadow a specter and every rustle a potential threat. It seems like our breathing is the loudest sound, rasping through the encroaching silence like a harsh whisper.
“Stone,” I whisper, clutching his arm, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound calm. I fight the urge to puke all over again. “Do you feel that?”
He nods slowly, his eyes scanning the darkened forest. “Something’s circling us... I can feel it—hear it. But I can’t see anything. It’s like it’s just out of sight.”
“Something’s not right,” I murmur, scanning the dark perimeter of the grove. My voice sounds too loud in my ears, almost echoing off the stones that encircle us.
Stone nods, his expression grim. “Keep your guard up.”
We move cautiously toward the edge of the stone circle, our eyes scanning every bush—every rustle in the grass.
That’s when we hear it—a soft, taunting whisper that seems to come from all around us.
“Moon Wolves... so mighty, yet so easily fooled,” the voice mocks.
I clench my fists, trying to locate the source of the voice, but it’s elusive, moving like smoke on the wind.
“Show yourself—” I call out, my voice ringing with the authority of an Alpha. The sound has my mind whirling from the intensity of it. It’s like I’ve drunk too much and can’t think straight.
The only response is a low, malicious laugh that curls around us like a cold embrace.
The sacred forest that would normally comfort me now looms beyond the Sacred Grove—ominous under the moon’s watchful eye. The air thickens with palpable tension as if this site breathes in uneasy anticipation.
Suddenly, the ground beneath us seems to pulse, sending a shockwave of energy that rattles through my bones. For a moment, it’s like my skull is being split apart.
Stone stumbles beside me, reaching out to steady himself against the stone wall.
Before we can regain our bearings, a series of bright, disorienting flashes ignite around us—like lightning striking too close. Each burst of light momentarily blinds us, and in those brief flashes, shadows dance at the edge of my vision—ghostly figures that circle and vanish as quickly as they appear.
The echoes of taunting voices fill the air as their words twist around us in a cruel symphony.
“Moon Wolves… so mighty, yet so easily broken,” they jeer, each syllable dripping with malice. “Nothing more than flashy words. They mean nothing. Are nothing.”
The voices multiply, surrounding us in a cacophony of scorn and mockery, pulling at the edges of my resolve. The motion is so disorienting, that I grab hold of my stomach and slam my eyes shut.
Then, everything stops—the flashes, the voices, the sense of movement.
Silence crashes down with oppressive weight, and in the stillness that follows, a chilling scream cuts through the night.
It’s a sound of pure agony—one that freezes my heart and roots me to the spot. Despite myself, my eyes fly open.
The scream fades into a haunting echo, and as it does, the moonlight gathers and focuses on one point in the center of our sacred circle.
There, in the heart of the Sacred Grove, as if spotlighted for a macabre show, lies a body.
Even in the dim light, I know exactly who it is.
It’s Clementine.