“So these are the journals?” Elsie sat down in the bedroom from her nightmares.

It wasn’t the same. Whatever she saw in her head must’ve been preserved exactly like it had been when Marella lived...like a time capsule.

“Marella started to keep track of her life toward the end. A lot of it is paranoid jumbles and rants. It’s hard to make heads or tails of, but you can feel free to study it,” said Gretchen, a distant cousin of Brock’s who lived at the Ranch.

One of hundreds of cousins he had. Apparently Brock had a massive family that she didn’t know about. Elsie had filed that away under “things I should’ve asked before we mated.” Mated in any sense of the word...

Gretchen had introduced herself shortly after Brock and Elsie had emerged from their bedroom. They’d managed to thoroughly break in the shower and bed, only emerging when hunger had driven them out. Brock had almost immediately gotten swept away in introductions and old greetings, and Elsie took the chance to venture over to the other side of the Ranch to learn more about the queen who’d been torturing her dreams.

“I didn’t realize she’d come so close to losing it in the end. Everything I read about her made her seem so put together.”

Gretchen nodded as she handed Elsie three of the dusty, leather-bound journals and reached for another two. “Remember, Marella was very old. Nearing two thousand by the time her reign was cut short. That kind of time can mess with a person. Especially that much time away from home.”

Elsie started to gently flip through the pages of one of the journals. “Away from home?”

“Marella was an off-worlder. Like the vampires.”

Elsie’s head shot up at the revelation. “What? Is this common knowledge?”

“There was speculation about it, but now with all this talk of portals and aliens, it’s pretty much common belief. We all knew Marella was a strangely powerful witch who turned her lover and his tribe into the first werewolves. That kind of power just didn’t exist naturally here. Had to come from somewhere.”

“So this wasn’t just a werewolf who was killed. It was a sorceress.” Not exactly easy to sneak up on someone with that kind of power. It was shocking anyone ever got to the queen, which kind of made Elsie wonder what chance she stood...

Gretchen motioned with her head as she started to lead Elsie out of the room. “Why don’t we make our way to the east library? No one really likes spending much time in here.”

“Can’t imagine why,” mumbled Elsie under her breath. She followed her new family member down the hall and around the corner. Gretchen didn’t look that much like Brock, but she had the same tall stature and dark hair. She had the build of a marathon runner: long limbs without an ounce of fat on her. Her flannel shirt was small, and even that hung loose on her frame. But Elsie was getting used to the fact that wolves all wore loose clothes. Easier to get rid of fast while changing.

She’d have to seriously rethink her wardrobe.

“So who killed her?” asked Elsie as they reached the library and set all the journals down.

“Her personal maid. Another wolf who had been with Marella for about two hundred years. It wasn’t a well-planned attack. The girl was killed before she even made it out of the Ranch. Back then it was called the Castle, but we’re a bit less formal now.”

“So it was a crime of passion then?”

Gretchen frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“Well you said it wasn’t planned well. And a maid should’ve had fifteen different ways to end the queen while giving herself enough time to get away. At least for a little bit.” Gretchen eyed her warily, and Elsie quickly added, “I watch a lot of police procedurals on TV.”

She snorted. “Honestly, no one really knows what happened. The maid was dead in minutes and Marella was dead before that.”

“So how are you sure that it was the maid who did the killing?”

“Because that’s what Marella told her lover’s next mate when she started having the dreams.”

In one of the dreams before the queen killed her. Well, that was a pretty good eyewitness account.

“And all of the other, um, queens had access to these journals?”

“Yep. They all seemed interested in what they had to say, though you obviously know it didn’t do them much good.”

“Probably do me more good than sitting around doing nothing.”

Gretchen narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think you and Brock were doing nothing last night.”

Oh how she’d forgotten about the joys of living with family with supernatural hearing. “Well, Brock is busy right now.” Elsie tried to hide her embarrassment. Even though Gretchen was probably used to hearing more than she wanted to through the walls, it didn’t make Elsie feel much better.

“And I’ll make sure he grabs you as soon as he’s done.” Gretchen winked. She pulled a drawer open on the coffee table in front of the ornate hunter-green sofa. “Here are some pens and paper if you want to take notes. It probably goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it. These books are old. They’re treasures. You’re only allowed to see them because of...extenuating circumstances.”

“At least if I die, I can’t get in trouble for messing with werewolf treasures.”

Gretchen didn’t smile. “Don’t joke. We’re all happy to see you and we’re happy Brock’s happy, but no one is happy about this.”

Elsie’s face fell. It wasn’t as though she was happy either, but what was she supposed to do? Crawl into a corner and just hope it all went away? If she wanted to make a damn joke to make herself feel better, she would. “So you think I’m going to die then?”

Gretchen set a hand on her hip and stared contemplatively at Elsie, as though searching for the right words. “Well, have you ever won a fight with anyone? I mean—no offense, of course—but what exactly can a siren do?”

“We get married,” said Elsie with a little bit of bite. It was the common misconception that a siren’s main power was snaring a man, but there were a few other tricks up their sleeve. Etta used her singing voice to entrance her fiancé into happiness more often than necessary. Though no one really considered a good singing voice that much of a power.

“I’m just saying that if you think you can take down Marella, you need a plan.”

Elsie did have a plan: Survive.

Didn’t that count?