Misty
Night falls on Silverhide against a chorus of coughing and sneezing. I’m not sure how else to describe it, but I’ve also never been sick before, so seeing half of Ryan’s pack under the weather is absolutely alarming.
Everyone seems to be doing okay, however. Aviva snapped out of what ended up being a very short-lived fever, and Lexa is back to her usual self, but they’re both exhausted. Freya, Andrew, and their son, Sam, were somehow spared by the worst of the illness and have taken over care of Aviva and Lexa tonight so Ryan can take me on a run.
I stare at the sleeping forms of Cole and Addy before closing the bedroom door and slipping out of the cabin to meet my brother on the road leading out of Silverhide. The dress I borrowed from Aviva feels strange against my skin as the warm night air wafts over me, lifting my hair from my shoulders in a soft breeze. It’s one of those Endovian dresses designed for shifting, of course, which means I’m practically exposed, but when I catch up to Ryan, I notice him in a pair of Endovian pants and not much else.
He looks equally as uncomfortable as he glances away from me to scan the quiet stretch of road and the pastures rising on either side.
We shift, and that’s that. No more talking, no more fussing. I spent the entire afternoon reeling from meeting Kyra for the first time, and my reaction to her presence in general, which was completely unnerving. Sure, she’d said some things I hadn’t liked… but I’m starting to wonder if I overreacted.
Shifting is exactly what I needed, but as an hour passes, then another, I start to wonder what exactly I got myself into, especially when Ryan dips into another valley where the forest is so thick I can’t make heads or tails of what direction we’re traveling in.
But then, I pick up Aviva’s scent–faint, but it’s still there.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask through the mind-link, following several paces behind Ryan’s massive, dark brown wolf.
He lumbers ahead, not bothering to stay stealthy and quiet on his paws as he crashes through the woods, scaring the absolute wits out of the birds and whatever tiny creatures were trying to get some sleep on the forest floor.
‘I needed to come out here and check something, and you gave me the perfect opportunity to make time for it because of your tantrum earlier.’
‘I wasn’t throwing a tantrum,’ I growl, but he shakes his massive head, moonlight rippling through his thick fur.
‘Misty, do you trust Cole?’
‘Of course, I do. What kind of question is that?’
‘You freaked out because he was in the company of another woman.’
I nearly skid to a stop, livid. ‘No… that’s not why I don’t like Kyra. But she was–she was looking rather cozy with him when I came into the cottage and looked furious that I’d interrupted–’
‘Interrupted what, exactly?’
Nothing. Absolute nothing. At least, Cole thought nothing was off or strange about her proximity. I realize at that moment that I’m the problem.
‘Cole shouldn’t be as trusting as he is,’ I reply, feeling a burden lifting from my shoulders at the admission.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because, when the war ended, and we went home and started our life together he just… moved on. It hasn’t affected him.’
‘Has he said so? Have you asked him if he’s been affected by the war and what he went through?’
I want to say yes, of course, but…
‘He doesn’t like to talk about it.’ We’ve never brought it up–at least, not how he’s faring after everything that happened. There were a few times, especially toward the end of my pregnancy, when we’d visit his mom and sister on their cozy island up north, and he’d talk somewhat openly about his father, but not about his time in Tarsian during the war, or Richard, or the curse.
But Cole’s so different than he was when we met last year. He’s happy. He smiles, and laughs, and he loves me so much and isn’t afraid to show it.
He’s my dream, and I don’t want to hurt him by bringing up the past, even if he’s the only one that’s been able to move on.
‘He had it the worst, you know,’ I tell my brother as he leads us through the trees. ‘What he went through–what he had to do–’
‘You’re worried about someone else using him like Richard used him, aren’t you?’
That comment stops me in my tracks.
Ryan senses that I’ve stopped following him and turns, his dark blue eyes shining in the moonlight. ‘Kyra’s just a witch. I didn’t get to choose who was sent here, and trust me, I would have chosen someone older and more experienced, but I brought a healer from Moonrise to Silverhide because we needed one–someone able to take care of the pack outside of delivering babies and tending wounds. She can make potions and herb blends that could help us thrive through another hard winter. Her opinions about the tribal packs… admittedly, I didn’t know, and I’ll talk to her about it.’ He steps toward me, lowering his head. ‘Everyone in Silverhide is equal, regardless of where they’re from. I won’t tolerate those kinds of comments, period. You have my word.’
I nod. That's all I can do.
But Ryan continues, ‘You went through so much last year. I don’t think any of us can relate.’
‘We all went to war. We all nearly died–’
‘You and Cole did most of the fighting. You went through a fucking portal, Misty. It’s okay to be fucked up, but you’re holding it in. Mom said you’ve been closing yourself in the library for months cataloging every shred of information about the war, putting together some big book about it.’
‘So?’ I ask hotly, shivering suddenly as we step into a clearing drenched in moonlight.
Ryan lifts his snout, sniffing the air before taking a timid step into the moonlight. ‘So, don’t forget to write your own story, too. Cole’s story. Addy’s story. How he came to be, and how his mother found his father.’
‘I’m not sure I ever want him to know.’
‘And that’s why you can’t think straight. That’s why you’re hurting. You haven’t let it go.’ He looks at me in the eyes, holding my gaze, showing me a glimpse of what I can only describe as hurt that he’s kept long buried, too. ‘I killed my first mate, remember? I spent two years feeling like you do now–absolutely fucking wrecked. In pieces. Ready to just let go–and die. Aviva pulled me from the edge, Misty. Cole’s been pulling you away from the edge since the end of the war–’
‘He hasn’t–’
‘He has. Cut the guy some slack. He’s not going to cheat on you with a fucking witch from Moonrise after everything you put him through, trust me.’
For a moment I honestly believed I was having a heart to heart with my favorite older brother, but as he shifts back into his human form, still dressed in those weird pants, his mouth plays into that fucking smirk again, and I growl.
‘It’s time to wake up, Misty. I need your powers.’
I shift to my human form with a huff, shoving my hair out of my face. “What do you need my powers for? And what’s that smell? It smells awful!”
Ryan grinds his teeth and steps further into the clearing. “I need you to show me what happened here.”
“Something died, obviously. Recently.” I cover my nose with my mouth, but the heavy scent of fresh death isn’t the only thing hanging low in the air around us–metal coats my tongue. The sharp, thick taste of magic… and it’s not mine.
“Jacob and some of our hunters came here two nights ago tracking a herd of elk. They set up camp ten miles south, and that night Jacob’s scouts came back saying they’d had a run-in with a hellhound.”
“A fucking hellhound–”
“Which is odd,” Ryan cuts in sharply, raising his fingers to motion for me to keep my mouth shut for a moment, “because generally, running into a hellhound either means you’re with the witch controlling it, or it’s without a master… and those without masters are the deadliest, yet this hellhound didn’t even know they were there.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
Ryan seems to agree, nodding to himself as he scans the clearing. “Aviva came here last night. This is where she was when Lexa got sick. She found the hellhound, saw it take its dying breaths.”
“She killed it?”
“No, it was… it was dying.” He rushes out a breath, his chest contracting with the movement. “She didn’t see any injuries. It wasn’t wounded, and hellhounds don’t just die of old age or illness. But it died and turned to ash. That’s what you smell, I think. That spice in the air.”
I feel a little sick to my stomach as a chill creeps through my body, making my skin pebble with unease.
“I need to know what killed it. Can you show me?”
I nod. It’ll be easy. My powers are simmering here just like they were when I met Kyra, so I raise my hands and let my powers flow, painting Ryan a picture of mist and light.
I watch the hellhound staggering into the clearing. It’s unsteady on its feet and topples over. But even while my powers show us the hellhound's death, I can… feel it–the ungodly creature–it's an overwhelming sense of peace that this is finally the end of what was an incredibly long life spent in the hell of a witch’s making.
The hellhound–a male, I believe, based on the flicker of voices in my head–lays his head down and closes his eyes at the very moment Aviva’s wolf bursts into the clearing and freezes.
We watch the hellhound drift into death, and the breeze carries its ashes away.
Ryan huffs beside me. “No, I need to see how it died.”
“It didn’t happen here,” I tell him, but then my powers surge to an unholy degree. I nearly scream, choking on the pain from the pressure of my powers leaving my body through my fingertips, the mist building something right before our eyes–a castle. A castle that rivals the size of the one in Moonrise.
Ryan grips my arm tightly and yanks me back as my powers shudder, failing to complete whatever picture they were painting.
The clearing falls dark and silent once again, but my heart is beating out of rhythm, and those voices in my head are loud.
“There used to be something here, didn’t there?” Ryan says, meeting my shocked, wide-eyed gaze. “Aviva mentioned she thought so but couldn’t find any ruins.”
“Obviously. This is a Firestone sight.” I swallow back my surprise and wring my aching hands. “I need to do some research, I think, on hellhounds and whether the Firestone’s used them. What if the hellhound did just in fact… die? And he came back here, to where his home was once, to take his last breath?”
“You’re giving those creatures too much credit–”
“I’m serious, Ryan. When you moved to Silverhide, you told me all about the hellhounds and the rogues that were here, as well. That the hellhounds here were unburdened by witches and simply roamed, but what if it’s more complicated than that? What if they were guarding things–bound to specific places? I look at the ground, feeling my powers flickering back to life, reaching toward something beneath my feet….
Ryan grabs my arm again, tugging me toward the woods. “We need to go back. I’m getting called through the mind-link. We have visitors.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Who?”
“Someone I’ve been wanting to meet for a few weeks now. We’ll decide what to do about this place later.”