God help me, had I defeated him? I struggled to stand and managed to crawl to Grandma.

  “Babushka?” I whispered.

  She didn’t stir.

  Meanwhile, the goblin sword’s flames continued to flare then died as the trunks dematerialized around us. No, I hadn’t beaten him, but I’d survived. One thing was painfully certain: I was horribly wounded, but I hadn’t even managed to touch him.

  What condition was Grandma in? I pressed my face against her cheek.

  “Just keep breathing, babushka. I’m right here.”

  I struggled to stay awake. What would stop the Basilisk King from returning and taking us if I couldn’t remain conscious and guard her? My eyelids drooped, and the strength that kept me motivated to survive wavered. I couldn’t stop shaking and the pain on my arms and legs magnified with each passing minute, but I refused to close my eyes. I crept over to the Basilisk King’s perch, knocking down his foul altars in the process.

  Shadows ebbed and flowed around me. Had more basilisks come? Was my final battle before me? The goblin blade slept in my trembling hand.

  The shaking in my limbs from the poison coursing through me increased until I collapsed and landed hard next to Grandma. I reached for her hand and locked my fingers with hers, but she didn’t squeeze mine back.

  Chapter 23

  Doubts smothered me, like a hand pressed against my nose and mouth and there was no breath to save me. Had I failed? Was Grandma alive? As I swam in and out of consciousness, I didn’t want to wake up yet from the comfort of my bed.

  The scents around me were familiar. Thorn had laid next to me and held me close, but I wasn’t at the cottage.

  You’re not home. That’s not a good sign.

  Eventually, the clues came together—the ethereal scent of spring sunshine to the soft womanly skin that rubbed my cheek to offer comfort. I was at my brother’s home with the nymphs.

  Why hadn’t the pack healer taken care of me?

  No one spoke when I was fed. Family prodded me to open my mouth and accept broth. They floated in and out, from my father’s heavy footsteps to my mother’s soft ones. Murmurs floated through the walls, but I couldn’t make out the speaker or what was said.

  But I wasn’t in pain. Just a sense of being utterly and completely drained. I urged my limbs to move, for my eyes to open, but my eyelids didn’t so much as budge.

  Time in bed can be a cruelty for a wolf. I longed for someone to open the window—if there was one.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but suddenly, I caught conversation coming from the hallway.

  “Thank you for coming.” It was Thorn. “I know you and I haven’t been on the best terms, but I’m grateful you accepted my call.”

  Who was he addressing?

  “Nothing has worked,” I heard Aggie whisper. “It’s been two days and the pack healer doesn’t know what to do.”

  The door to the room opened. Thorn and Aggie approached me, their familiar scents enveloping me. Another set of footsteps approached, but this one didn’t carry a scent. The hand that pressed against my shoulder was tentative, yet when he gripped me, I sensed his despair and urgency.

  “I’m glad you contacted me,” Nick’s voice said firmly. “She’s beyond your care now.”

  “Siphon strength from me, if necessary,” Brenna said. So the earth witch had come to my aid, too.

  “You don’t need to do that…” Thorn murmured. “If you need power, you can take it from me.”

  “There’s no need. Brenna and I will do what we can.” Nick’s healing magic flooded into me, tugging strength into me from my toes up to my ankles. He kept his hand on me as he grumbled, “She hasn’t healed at all. She’s merely existing right now. Nat, if you can hear me, wiggle your toes.”

  I wiggled my big toe under the blanket.

  “Good job, Nat,” he whispered.

  “Do you detect anymore basilisk poison?” Brenna asked.

  “A little,” Nick said evenly.

  “Let me draw it out.” Brenna drew closer to me, her light citrus-scent filling my nostrils. Another hand touched my leg. The pain from the contact was brief and she released me. “There, I got it.”

  The warmth from Nick’s healing continued upward until I finally managed to open my eyes to a slit. Nick kneeled beside my bed in the spare bedroom at my brother’s home. Brenna stood behind him.

  Not far from them, Aggie and Thorn waited with hopeful faces. My poor mate’s shoulders sagged and his wrinkled clothes told me he hadn’t been home in a long time.

  My stubborn eyelids gave way. I opened my mouth and tried to produce sounds. A croak came out.

  “You’re still too weak,” Nick said gently.

  I mouthed one word in particular over and over again, but both of the spellcasters’ faces scrunched in confusion. Brenna offered me a bit of water and I was able to whisper, “Grandma.”

  They glanced at each other as if considering what to say.

  Was she dead? My heart collapsed like a supernova and I moaned in despair, but Nick patted my hand.

  “She’s alive—but, like you, she’s not responding.”

  Brenna gave me a soft, reassuring smile. “Nick and I will go see her after we take care of you.”

  I tried to push Nick’s hand off my shoulder so he could attend to Grandma, but I was far too weak.

  “Still stubborn as always. I promise I will heal her.” A sheen of sweat formed on Nick’s brow and his lips paled. How much had he taxed himself to help me?

  “Stop,” I managed to say. “Rest.”

  He let go of me. His gaze jumped from my face to my abdomen, exactly where I’d felt a piece of myself taken as the price of using magic. “What did you do to yourself?” he asked. “What spell did you cast?”

  “I’d like to know the answer to that question too,” Thorn said with a growing frown.

  “Does it matter?” I asked as Brenna gave me another sip of water.

  “Yes, it matters.” Nick’s dark eyes bore into me with disapproval. “You could’ve died.”

  “She promised me she wouldn’t do Old Magic anymore.” Thorn eased into a nearby seat.

  “Nat wouldn’t have done it unless she didn’t have a choice, right?” Aggie’s voice rose. “None of us know what happened but, based on all the blood we found, whatever went down had to be really bad.”

  Memories of the pain and fire consuming the basilisks flashed before my eyes. I cringed.

  Nick stood. “You’re more stable now, but you can’t avoid the conversation we need to have about Old Magic.”

  What happened the other night unfolded in my thoughts. Would I have survived if I’d held my ground with only the goblin blade? Not necessarily.

  As Nick and Brenna left, presumably to heal Grandma, Aggie approached the bed and adjusted the covers up to my chest. Thorn rubbed his face and then rested his elbows on his knees.

  “You hungry?” she asked.

  “No,” I mumbled. “I’m very tired.”

  “Then rest some more. I’ll be back with some chow and you’re going to eat that,” she said firmly.

  I managed a nod.

  My friend left the room, and Thorn strode up to the bed. He curled up next to me and I about melted from the warmth of his embrace. I almost fell back asleep, but Thorn’s heartbeat was far too fast. His worry seeping from his pores.

  “Did something bad happen?” I gasped.

  He shifted so I could see his face. His brow furrowed and tension filled his shoulders.

  “Thorn?” I whispered.

  I said his name again.

  “After you left the house to save your grandmother, the pack ran into some problems back at your parents’ place.”

  “Oh God no, I should’ve—” My heart plummeted and he placed his finger over my mouth.

  “You did the right thing,” he said. “I would’ve saved her too if I had to make the choice you did.” He sucked in a deep breath. “After you left the house, the basilisk broke out of the basement. The human neighbors next door were attacked, including a small child. Multiple humans witnessed the supernatural world.”

  Oh, no.

  “Are they okay?” I croaked.

  “They’ll live. The warlocks came to clean up our mess.”

  A dull ache formed on the back of my head. The pack’s situation had worsened.

  “I should’ve stayed to help, but if I hadn’t gone after Grandma—”

  “—she might be dead right now,” Thorn finished for me. “You did the right thing, wife.”

  Doubts flicked at me. Despite what Thorn said, I knew very well Grandma would’ve chosen protecting the pack over herself.

  “I’m old,” she’d said to me. “I can take care of myself.”

  Thorn swallowed deeply. “You need to heal so we can protect everyone again.” He tilted my chin to force me to meet his eyes. “The pack is strongest when we’re together. I have the power to bring them together. You do, too.”

  Thorn’s words should’ve reassured me, but I felt torn in two. An innocent child was attacked. Even if I’d walked away to save my grandma, the citizens of South Toms River fell under my care, too. I had to reflect on that while I recovered.

  I dozed off, only to wake up again an hour later. Thorn had left, but another person sat in the chair next to the bed: Mevelyn.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked with a yawn.

  “Long enough to watch over you and make progress on my little project,” the older nymph presented what she held in the middle of her palm: a carving of a small fish.

  I squinted. “What’s that?”

  “A beautiful minnow.” She smiled and the wrinkles along her eyes softened. “Karey told me she saw fishing supplies in a corner at the cottage and I thought I’d make a simple gift for you. Are you planning a trip soon?”

  With a groan, I tried to ease into a sitting position and failed. Mevelyn helped me add two pillows behind me. Now that I was sitting up a little, I could see someone had left my goblin blade on a nearby dresser. I didn’t have the strength to use it right now, but knowing it was nearby gave me relief.

  A bit breathless, I managed to say, “Not any time soon.” I told her about how Thorn and I wanted to go fly fishing in Maine. Maybe relax for a couple of days while fishing along the Kennebago River.

  “Sounds amazing. I love to travel and see my sisters to the north.” She retrieved her carving knife from the end table next to the bed and worked on the minnow.

  The flick-flick sounds soothed me. My eyes drooped from fatigue, but I spoke so I wouldn’t fall asleep again.

  “How many sisters do you have?” I asked.

  “Far too many,” Mevelyn replied with a chuckle. “Nymphs guard clusters of trees and there are more glens, bogs, swamps than I can count. I used to be able to remember all my sisters’ names, but time has a way of making you remember what’s important.” She paused to smile. “The people closest to you, right here and right now, should matter.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “They should.”

  “I know you’re troubled right now, Sister Wolf, but have faith in yourself. I believe in you.” She resumed her whittling. “With time, you’ll find your way and see what’s most important.”

  I nodded, praying for that clarity to come.

  The day stretched out. After Mevelyn left, I rested, feeling as broken as that fairy tale character Humpty-Dumpty.

  I’d survived my fight with the Basilisk King, but my heart hurt from the aftermath. Was I strong enough to get the pack through this troublesome time?

  Five years ago, I had a similar feeling—despair and doubt. After college, Thorn and I had been dating for a while and things were going great. Then he disappeared. He vanished off the face of the Earth, and I was left with a broken heart. At the time, I had a comfy job in New York City, but my sadness made it impossible for me to function.

  After I didn’t answer any phone calls, my parents got worried. They found me sitting in my apartment and brought me back to South Toms River.

  Once back home, I tried to put myself back together again—like Humpty-Dumpty. Grandma kept me company, trying to cheer me up when she could. At the time, she’d given me the first piece of my holiday collection: a papier-mâché farmer boy holding a Christmas wreath. His face was beautifully painted with a bright smile. A smile full of hope.

  “My child,” Grandma had said, “hold onto him. He represents love. My beloved Pyotr fixed him for me after your aunt Olga tried to break him in half.”

  Over the springtime into the summer, I’d begun adding more and more to my collection while helping Aunt Olga care for Grandma. That summer should’ve healed my old wounds, but during that fateful season, my parents took me out to a pack picnic at Hope Park. Surrounded by pack members, they pushed Rex at me and expected me to forget about Thorn.

  Wouldn’t a new man help? they must’ve thought.

  But I didn’t want a new man. I needed time to be happy by myself. That horrible day, the pack witnessed my worst moment of shame: I had a panic attack in front of everyone. The scene was far too vivid in my mind, and every time I recalled it, I wanted to cry.

  I could still see myself backing away from Rex, screeching out, “No! Don’t touch me. Stay away from me!”

  I continued to step backwards until I fell on the kids table. I collapsed on the children’s plates of food, knocking everything to the ground. At the time, I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t apologize or explain my actions. I only felt the need to flee. And anyone in my way, including my mother and father, would be pushed aside.

  My father tried to placate me and hold my arms as I flailed and jerked, but I was past that point. The whole moment felt surreal, as if I stood to the side and watched another person fall over the edge and plunge into the depths of darkness.

  Soon enough, I calmed down, but the damage was done. From that moment forward, the pack saw me as weak. A mentally ill pariah incapable of functioning as a pack member.

  But that darkness didn’t prevail forever. Instead of sitting ignored at my parents’ house, I escaped to one flea market then another. Just like my usual routine even now, shopping made everything better. Finding one treasured thing—that one diamond in the rough—had a way of lifting my spirits.

  Then one day, I came upon a flea market I always passed. The place appeared dated and rundown on the outside. I mean, c’mon, would I find anything good at a place called The Bend of the River Flea Market?

  Yet I went inside.

  Instead of finding another collectible for my hoard, I found a job. A purpose.

  For a girl like me, that was more valuable than anything.

  Chapter 24

  When Thorn said the dog shit had hit the fan and blasted everyone so badly that the spellcasters showed up, he wasn’t kidding.

  The next day, I heard many voices in the living room so I ambled out of bed to the bathroom—only to pass by a living room full of spellcasters. Two middle-aged men and a woman in casual clothes whispered to each other on the couch. My brother’s ranch home had an open floor plan. Beyond the chatting spellcasters, the nymphs gathered in the kitchen. Before I disappeared into the bathroom, Mevelyn glanced my way in concern.

  Good God, how long had they been sitting in there?

  In the bathroom, I took my sweet time. The trip drained what little energy I had, so I washed my hands once rather than the usual twice. All the while, I strained to hear what the spellcasters were saying. Just how bad were things?

  I knew damn well why they were here: now that I was feeling better, they wanted to hear what I knew about the Basilisk King. Fatigue tugged at me. I was so not ready to face the Spanish Inquisition.

  On the way back from the bathroom, I tried to resist a second peek into the living room, but this time, I caught the most delightful sight. My niece Sveta scampered like a marathon runner across the gray carpeted floor.

  And she beamed with a cheesy grin when she saw me.

  My escape was thwarted, but I didn’t mind and gingerly stooped down to her level. I doubt I had the strength to hold her, but she climbed into my lap, nonetheless.

  “Oh, my Printsessa!” I leaned in and kissed her cheeks. Then I made fart noises in her neck like any proper aunt would. The baby giggled. “My little princess has gotten so big.”

  “Goodness, Nat.” Karey was breathless. “She’s so fast.”

  “Yeah, pups develop faster than humans,” I replied.

  From behind Karey, I noticed the spellcasters looking our way.

  Karey reached for Sveta, but her adventurous daughter shook her head and clung to me.

  “Aren’t you hungry, sweetheart?” Karey asked. Then she turned to me. “Your brother said I don’t feed her enough.”

  “I think she looks healthy.”

  “She caught a mole outside.” Karey shuddered. “I’m so glad she didn’t eat it.”

  That got a laugh out of me. “That’s my girl.” I rubbed my nose against Sveta’s, and the baby giggled again.

  One of the warlocks, a short, dark-haired man with a sharp nose and eyes stepped forward. “I’m sorry for intruding, but we need to speak with Mrs. Grantham.”

  Fear curled in the back of my throat. This man could’ve been anyone—he smelled like cheap aftershave and your average office—but I’d learned from my time with Nick that appearances are deceiving. Able spellcasters masked their scent and appearance. The only thing I trusted was my intuition, and that gift from the wolf often stumbled about like a fool searching through a trap-filled dark room.

  After kissing my niece’s forehead, I said a silent prayer and handed her off to her mom. I’d be fine. My pack was here. My family, too, if I counted Karey and her kin. All I had to do was tell the truth and face their words as the alpha female.

  Standing took far more effort and time than I wanted, but the warlock didn’t interfere—nor did he offer to help. Rude. I wrapped my robe’s sash tightly around my waist and shuffled to the nearest seat. A floral-printed La-Z-Boy threatened to swallow me, but the overstuffed seat gave me an optimal position to face the spellcasters.

 

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