Chapter Ten

STANDING AS STILL as possible, like a cat eyeing potential prey, Cam studied the lobby of the small office. A couch against the far wall didn’t look too comfortable. A coffee table held several coasters but still had water rings on its surface while a few magazines were scattered here and there. A bad artificial plant stood in the corner of the room. Cam would have sworn he had stumbled into a doctor’s office.

The door on the far wall had frosted glass panels, and lettering across the centre of the windowpane read, “Dev Khandelwal—Community Sociologist.”

Cam shook his head. What the hell?

A crash ripped Cam’s attention away from the title, as the tinkling of broken glass filled the air.

A woman screamed.

Muffled voices were followed by an ominous growl. His wings vibrated with nerves.

“What the hell?” he repeated, but this time in a hoarse whisper.

He approached the door and cautiously opened it a crack to peer inside.

Dev sat behind a desk. A woman slumped in her seat opposite to Dev. Her long hair hung listlessly on each side of her head, and from the sobs and the movement of her shoulders, he knew she was crying.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I promise I will try to help you. This, however, is beyond my abilities. I’m going to have to call in some additional support. Can you tell me again how you got my contact information?”

She sobbed, sniffled, and continued. Cam jerked his head toward a shadowy motion that caught his attention.

A child, maybe seven or eight years old, crawled on tippy toes backward up the wall.

“I posted a video of Noah on a parenting forum. We are at our wits’ end and don’t know what to do. The church hasn’t been of any help. This isn’t normal!” The woman gestured to the boy who had crouched up into the corner of the ceiling. “Normal children don’t do this.”

The boy hissed.

Dev put his head in his hands. “It’s all right, Mrs. Andersen; we will figure this out, but I may have some rather unconventional ways of dealing with Noah. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do anything tonight. Do you feel like you can wait a few days? Are you okay to take him home?”

“As long as you promise to help. He’s not violent. But look at him!”

The boy’s head darted in Cam’s direction, his eyes glowing red. He hissed.

Dev shot a glance toward the cracked open door and furrowed his brows.

Oh shit.

Cam’s memories shifted to Everton, and their time spent together stuck in the witch’s dungeon. Byron had just finished torturing him, jabbing long needles into his spinal column. Anger erupted in his belly, while the vengeance he wanted bubbled to the surface of his skin, making him hot and itchy all over.

In that instant, Cam disappeared.

“Mrs. Anderson, do you think you could come see me on Thursday, around one in the afternoon?” Dev clicked away on his laptop.

“It will have to be after sunset. Noah won’t come out of his room until the sun has gone down. He’s up all night.” She sucked in a desperate breath, her inhale hitching several times. This woman was on the edge of a breakdown.

“All right. Shall we say eight in the evening on Thursday? I’ll see what I can do to have someone here who knows more about this sort of thing.”

“What is this thing?”

“Well, I have some suspicions, but I don’t want to say anything until I’m completely sure. But regardless of what I think, I want you to know I will help you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Dev stood. He glanced toward the door.

“Thursday evening it is.” Dev extended his hand toward the office door, right where Cam stood.

“Yes, fine. Noah, come on, baby, we’re gonna go home and come back to see this nice man in a couple of days, okay?” Noah scampered down from his resting spot up near the ceiling. His body actions were jerky, and his head twisted the wrong way as he climbed down on all fours, inverted. He mimicked a spider to perfection.

As the woman left the office and exited the lobby, Dev closed the door behind her and turned the bolt sideways, locking himself in the office. He put his back to the door and slid down a few inches, letting out a massive sigh of relief.

“You can come out now, Cam,” he yelled.

“How’d you know it was me?” Cam’s tail switched to and fro as he stopped thinking about the torture session induced by Byron Radcliffe and instantly revealed himself.

“Really? Like I wouldn’t know when my best friend was standing in the room with me?” Dev grinned like a devil. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought newbie fae weren’t supposed to leave the Ancestral Lands.” Dev’s dishevelled clothes and the black circles under his eyes told Cam he’d been working too hard.

“Jeez, you look bagged. And hi, it’s so good to see you after so many months.” Cam coyly smiled at his friend.

“Come here.” Dev opened his arms and pulled the Eldritch fae who had been his longest and most cherish bestie in for a hug. But the embrace turned out to be awkward, what with Cam’s horns and wings.

Still, Cam melted into his friend. He’d never been without Dev for so long.

“I have so much to tell you,” he mumbled into Dev’s shoulder. “I hate the Ancestral Village. Lady Aine is a heartless and scary bitch. Everton dumped me.”

“Wait. What?” Dev pulled away.

“How come you look so beat? Everything okay?” Cam changed the subject.

“Work has been slightly insane.”

“That’s it? Everything is okay at home?”

“Oh my Gods, yes. No, Tully and I are fantastic. Don’t give us another thought. Seriously, I’ve been pulling twelve-to-fourteen-hour days. It’s ridiculous.”

“What the hell is a Community Sociologist?”

“It’s just a name. Basically, word got out I’m a social worker/healer/fixer of things for residents of the Shadow Realm. I handle individuals with issues and groups with problems. I deal with their magical difficulties. When the Horned One made me a tracker, and the Goddess made me her emissary, shit got busy. And now apparently, I have cases coming in from outside the Shadow Realm because the little boy who scaled my office walls—they are not a magical family.” Dev yawned and stretched.

“The kid looked like he was possessed. Like head-spinning Linda Blair pea-soup-puking possessed.”

“That’s exactly what I think too—except we’re not supposed to have any demons in Edmonton.”

“Why not?”

“Something Tully told me. The Realm holds both light and dark creatures, but for the longest time, Edmonton has been devoid of anything truly dark. He didn’t get into it. But I haven’t got the foggiest how to treat someone who’s possessed if that’s what is really going on. I need to figure out what’s wrong with the boy. I might know who to talk to, but I need time to make a few phone calls.

“Now, tell me, what the hell are you doing in the city and not with your nose stuck in a book learning how to do all the fae stuff? Although it would seem you have invisibility nailed. Nice! When we left you, Lady Aine said you’d be there awhile. A couple of months doesn’t equal ‘awhile.’ What gives?” Dev hadn’t taken a breath through his ramblings. Cam gawked in amazement. His best pal since forever had always been the quiet one. Cam, on the other hand, was the gregarious, talkative troublemaker.

“Too long, didn’t read version?” Cam raised an eyebrow.

“Please, I’m exhausted and need to get home. You can give me all the gory details tomorrow, but out with it. What’s up?”

Cam fished out the glass vial Lady Aine had given him from the drawstring bag hanging at his hip. He placed the vessel on Dev’s desk.

“I need to fill that.”

“What is it?”

“A vial that needs to contain my seed.”

“What? Eww, Cam, get it off my desk.”

“It hasn’t been filled yet. Well, at least, not that I know of.” Cam picked up the glass container, brought it close to his face, and peered into it.

“Gross.”

“Completely.” Cam shoved the vessel into its bag. “Basically, Everton has been with me all summer, and we’ve spent a load of time together, but not together together. If you get my drift. And as the only fertile Royal fae in the Ancestral Lands, it’s up to me to get Lady Aine preggers, but we all know that’s never happening. Your homie don’t play those games. So, I have to fill the vial and make sure Lady Aine has it in her hot little ‘gotta have babies’ hands before Groundswell.”

“Wow. What the hell is Groundswell? And filling the vial shouldn’t be much of a problem. Grab an internet connection, stream some porn, and—”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work. It can’t be filled by my own doing. The seed must be the result of a coupling, preferably one where I’m emotionally attached to the other person.” Cam spoke the last words as if he’d chomped down on the most bitter of leaves.

“Oh.” Dev grimaced as he nodded his head in understanding.

“Right. Your horned, tailed, and winged best friend doesn’t make ‘emotional connections.’ They’re too…complicated. Except I kinda already made one with Everton. Dammit. And the fucker left.”

“Left the Ancestral Lands?”

“Yeah.”

“And went?”

“Here to the city. Which is where you come in. I need to find him, get the vial filled”—Cam tapped his hip where the bag hung—“and then get the damn thing back to Lady Aine before the village goes underground for winter. That is Groundswell.”

“Ah, gotcha. So we need to go see Everton.” Dev shrugged.

“I don’t know where he lives. We never went to his place.”

“Oh, red flag, red flag!” Dev snickered.

“Shut up.” Cam punched Dev in the shoulder. Not hard, just enough.

“Ow. Fine. So, you need me to witch-find my way to Ev’s place so you can get jiggy with him?”

“All right, when you put it like that, you make me sound desperate.”

“Well, you are, aren’t you?”

“Okay, sort of. Would you?”

“For you”—one side of Dev’s mouth twitched up in a wry smirk—“of course.”

“You’re the best. Thanks.”

Dev reached up and ran his fingers over Cam’s bony horns.

“I’m never going to get used to those.”

“They’re kinda cool, but a bitch to sleep with at night.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Oh, but wait. Watch this!” Cam once again summoned an image of Everton, which triggered so many of his abilities and delved into the scheming part of his brain. Trying to figure out the right thing to say when he showed up on the doorstep, what Ev might say back to him, and how he would worm his way into Ev’s big wolfy heart…and with a ripple of air caused by his fae magic, the Eldritch Cam dissipated, and human Cam stood before Dev.

“Holy shit! Dude. That’s amazing. You’re getting a handle on your abilities! So, are they gone?” Dev put his arm up toward Cam’s head again.

Cam slapped his hand away, “Of course, they’re still there. It’s just an illusion.”

“Damn good one.”

And with a constant banter back and forth, Dev and Cam left Dev’s workplace and headed to his parked car.

 

“WAIT A MINUTE. What do you mean the Guardian witches did it? I can assure you that is certainly not the case.” Everton remained still, maintaining his pack leader stoniness, and squinted at Serge.

The man had a tendency toward the dramatic.

“I’m telling you, two of their witches were poking and prodding Lars’s dead body. They did it!”

“Yeah, I find that hard to believe.” Everton shook his head. “Did you think maybe to bring the body home so we can deal with it? Or did you leave him lying on the ground for the cops to find?”

“I…ah…well.” Serge bit his bottom lip.

“I’ll go get him.” Franco volunteered.

“I…I’ll help. I’ll go too.” Serge’s gaze darted toward Everton.

Everton loved all his guys. They were good men. Most of them stumbled into lycanthropy by being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. A shifted wolf retains some human thought and reason, but instinct and the wild call get in the way. An encounter with a werewolf always wound up in two scenarios. Dead or turned.

All of them had scars, physical and mental, from their infections—but despite their affliction, they were decent folk at heart. Apparently, none of them were capable of doing housework.

“No, Serge, let Franco retrieve the body. You can help do some bloody housework. I might be pack leader, but I’m no fucking den mother. Jesus, this place is a mess. I can’t leave any of you. And before you go”—Ev gestured to Franco, then to the empty bowl and dirty spoon sitting on the raised eating bar of the kitchen island—“clean this up.”

With a shake of his head, and a run of his hand over his scalp, Everton had had enough for the day. Halfway up the stairs the back door slammed, which indicated Franco’s departure, followed by a knock at the front door. Ev halted his step toward his second-floor bedroom.

“What the fuck now?”

Before Ev had turned around and walked down the stairs that led to the front door foyer, Serge opened the door completely naked.

From behind Serge, Ev spotted Cam.

Cam nervously beat his wings and stroked his horns. His tail flicked back and forth as he gawked at the nude werewolf pup. He stood on Ev’s front porch in nothing but a loincloth.

Serge immediately went defensive. A growl rumbled from the young wolf’s chest.

“Settle, Serge. That’s enough. And go put some goddamn clothes on.” Ev’s voice boomed. “Cam, what the hell?”

Ev shoved Serge out of the way, then grabbed the fae and dragged him into the house’s entryway. He poked his head outside, surveying the front yard, making sure none of his neighbours were out to potentially spot a nearly naked Cam. Instead, Ev spied Dev in his car, driving away.

“Cam, what the hell are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be off the Ancestral Lands. You won’t survive yet. You’re too…immature. Didn’t Lady Aine have you locked in the village?”

“Yeah, so about that. We need to talk.”

Cam gave Ev a nervous half grin as an inquisitive Serge’s nose sniffed the air in front of him, trying to get a whiff of the unusual guest.