Chapter 31

Ch. 31: Julian

I stare into the darkness where Dane had vanished, warring emotions making my chest ache.

"What do we do now?" I ask, not trusting myself to make a rational decision.

At my side, Freya shrugs and sighs. "Not much we can do, other than go home, like he said."

"No way. I'm not leaving him out here alone," I say. "Wolf or not, I'm his mate. My place is with him."

Spurred into sudden, impulsive action by my own words, I start forward, intent on following Dane, but Freya catches up to me in a few strides and grabs my arm, forcing me to stop.

"Whoa! Hold up, Julie. Mate or not, it's not safe out here. You do not want to run across a newly made alpha, especially if the land-bond goes wrong."

"Dane would never hurt me."

I shake her off and keep walking, but she catches and stops me again.

"The brace on your wrist says otherwise. Listen—I get it," she says, softening her tone. "That's my big brother out there, and my little sister gone missing. But I know Dane, too, and when he's made up his mind on something, it's no good trying to stop him. I'm a woman of action, and being told to sit and wait don't sit well with me. But if he's determined to make a mistake, we gotta let him make it. Meanwhile, the best thing we can do is to leave him to it, and keep him from making any worse mistakes while he's at it."

I frown at her, but she shakes her head and takes my shoulders in a firm grasp, as if worried I'll bolt away into the dark if she lets go.

"Julian, you're his heart and soul," she says. "I know he'd never hurt you on purpose, but he knocked you over like a cardboard cutout just now. After he takes the alpha, he'll be more wolf than man, for a time. It's an accident waiting to happen. Trust me."

"What about the ritual? Doesn't he still need you as his witness?"

"Ritual's out the window, hon," she says softly. "Dane's gone solo."

I shake my head. "We can't just leave him out here. We're a half-hour outside of town. What if something happens to him?"

Freya sighs. "He's a big wolf, Juju. He can take care of himself; if he can't then he doesn't deserve the alpha. Besides, we're only about ten or twelve miles from your house, as the crow flies—or as the wolf runs. He'll be fine."

Scowling, I weigh the options in my mind, but at last I'm forced to admit that she's probably right. Dane is long gone by now, and I have little chance of finding him in the dark—not without Freya's help, anyway.

I hold still and listen, scanning the moonlit landscape with eyes adjusted to the dark well beyond human ability, but everything is silent and still. Wherever Dane went, he's long gone already.

Without me.

"Fine," I say, defeated at last. "Let's go home."

***

As I had suspected it would, sleep eludes me.

I pass the night pacing restlessly from room to room, while Freya reads on her phone or naps on the couch. Dawn finds me, red-eyed and dazed, staring out the window as color gradually returns to the world.

"Julian?"

I startle at Freya's touch, not having heard her approach.

"Sorry." She winces. "I thought you were asleep on your feet or something. I made some coffee."

She holds out a mug. I take it gratefully, though she hasn't added nearly enough cream for my taste.

"Thanks. How much longer do you think it will be?"

She runs a hand through her tumble of long, thick curls. "Hard to say. Usually, not more than the span of the night, but that's when everything goes to plan. I honestly don't know."

"Great."

I sigh and take a gulp of coffee, then half choke on it as my phone vibrates in my back pocket. Extracting it, I see Grace's number on the screen and tap to answer it.

"Gracie? What's up?"

"You, I hope. I didn't wake you, did I?"

I snort a laugh. "Wake me from the sleep I didn't get? No, you didn't."

"Is everything okay?" Her tone turns concerned, and I bite back another sigh as I weigh what and how much to tell her. For a long time, Grace was my primary confidant, and she's still my go-to girlfriend. The urge to spill all my drama to her sympathetic ear is hard to resist, but she clearly called me for a reason. On the other hand, she's a family friend, and she cares about Dane and Ingrid, too. She deserves the truth.

"Not really. Some shit went down last night," I say. "Ingrid's been kidnapped."

"What!?"

Briefly, I fill her in, and she puts me on speaker-phone so Chloe can hear, too.

"How can we help?" she asks, when I conclude my tale.

I smile at her dauntlessness. A year ago, Grace knew as much about the world of Wolves and Shifters as I did—which is to say nothing—and had gone through a rather traumatic education at my side. That she still wants anything to do with me at all speaks of her character and courage.

"Nothing, at the moment," I say. "But I'll let you know as soon as that changes. Anyway, why did you call?"

"Oh, right! I found something interesting, but I don't know if it even matters, now."

"Tell me," I say, and beckon Freya over so she can listen, too.

"Well, I was working on the database, looking for connections to the case, but no luck. Then it occurred to me that we might not be looking in the wrong place so much as in the wrong time."

"You mean the past?" I ask.

"Exactly. I was thinking about the old buildings and the tunnels under the shops, and the fact that whoever built them must have known about the cave. You don't build over a cave like that and not know it."

"You're right," I say, glancing up to meet Freya's eyes. "You think it has something to do with the portal?"

"I do now," Grace says. "And I think it has something to do with your family, too, Julian."

"The Fae?"

Grace hesitates. "No. The Harts."

I frown. "My grandfather?"

"More like his grandfather. I went down to the town archives to poke around. I was hoping to find some original building plans, but instead I found this. Hang on..."

I wait, and a moment later my phone pings as it receives a texted image. I open it and find a picture of an old photograph. It's an old-timey portrait of a man seated in a chair. He has handsome features, slicked-down hair, and a somewhat severe expression, and he stares directly at the camera with an intensity I feel across the span of time. He also looks vaguely familiar.

My phone pings again as a second image comes through. This one appears to be of the photograph's back, on which two words are written in an antique script I can barely decipher.

Freya squints at it over my shoulder. "Julius Hart?"

"Yeah," Grace confirms, "and you would not believe the number of dusty boxes of uncataloged crap I had to sort through before I found even a crumb of information on the guy. Even that is barely a mention, but... Hang on."

There's another pause as a third image comes through. This one is a picture of a microfilm screen showing a page from an old newspaper. I enlarge the image and read aloud.

"May 12, 1885 — SPRING LAKES, CALIFORNIA. Mayor Josiah Inglewood of Spring Lakes has announced the construction of a new town center, to be designed by architect Julius Hart. After a harsh winter marked by bitter losses for the small mountain community, Mayor Inglewood asserts that the modernized buildings will bring new life and prosperity to the region. Lingering anger and resentment following the mysterious disappearances of seven children over the past year has plagued Inglewood's campaign, and his choice of Hart to lead the project has not escaped scrutiny. Hailing from Ireland via New York, Hart is well known among Spiritualist circles as a man to call when a problem defies rational solutions. His presence in Spring Lakes has aroused curiosity and suspicion, as well as hope. Since his arrival, no further disappearances have occurred, and some — including this reporter — have wondered if there might not be some connection between the two. Construction of the new buildings is slated to begin within the month."

I look up at Freya and see my shock mirrored on her face.

"I did some digging, too," Chloe says, chiming in over the line. "I found some mentions of a 'Hart' family in my uncle's journals. They were some sort of 'Shifter hunters,' but they were all killed off or died out over time. Julian, I think you're the last of their line."

I grimace. "Great. So, if you're right, I've got wolf-slayers on one side and Shifter hunters on the other. Dane will love that."

"Dane won't give a shit," Freya says. "The important thing is that whatever happened with the portal back then, your great-great-great-grand-pappy was a part of it. Didn't you say Stephanie saw children in the Shadowlands?"

"Yeah. But no children have been reported missing, that I'm aware," I say. "This is amazing work, anyway, Grace—you, too, Chloe. Obviously the portal, and maybe the skin-changers and Fae, have caused trouble before. I just... don't know how it's connected to what's happening now."

Freya sighs. "Too bad the one person who could probably tell us everything can't speak."

Even as she says this, it hits me. "Rhiannon!" I gasp. "The rune in Stephanie's shop said 'Hart.' I thought it was about me or my grandpa, but what if she was trying to tell us something else? Something about this Julius guy and whatever happened back then?"

"If only there was some way we could ask her," Freya says dryly.

"Maybe there is," I say, my excitement—somewhat feverish from lack of sleep and compounded emotions—growing with every word. "The spell-kit Danni gave me worked, in its own way, and I think Danni has a real Gift—whether they know it or not. Maybe they know something about breaking curses. You said yourself you've seen something similar, right?"

"Similar in effect. That was human magic. This is probably Fae, and I have no idea if what works for one would work for the other."

"I say it's worth a try. Chloe, Grace—thank you both. This is the biggest break we've had yet. Maybe you two should be the detectives from now on."

"I'll stick to research, thanks," Grace says. "I'm not the one who enjoys running headlong into danger. That said, be careful, Julian. And call us if you need anything."

I promise that I will, and hang up before grabbing my wallet and keys.

"Whoa, where you going?" Freya asks.

"To see Danni. You stay here and wait for Dane."

"No, no, no. That's not how this works, Juju. We stick together, you hear me?"

"Tell that to Dane. We're supposed to be equals, Mates, a team; but the second he thinks there's something real to do, he 'goes solo.' Well, he's not the only one who can. So you can either stop me, come with me, or let me go, because I'm not waiting for him this time."

Freya stares at me as if seeing me for the first time, and then shakes her head.

"Okay, fine—I'll come with you. Just leave him a note, or something, okay? Don't let him come back, in whatever state he's in, and find the house empty and you gone. He looks tough on the outside, but... Well, you know how he is."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding, and cover my eyes with my hand. As angry as I am, I understand my mate well enough.

"Okay. Give me a minute."

Grabbing a pen and a pad of sticky notes, I scribble a message, then crumple it up and try again. On the fifth attempt, I think I have it right.

Gone to Danni's for supplies

Love you,

J

Dane will know what it means, while to any other eyes it appears innocuous.

I stick it to the outside of the front door at eye level, the bright yellow paper unmissable against the dark wood, before walking to my car.

As Freya follows me, I pause beside the vehicle and turn in a slow circle, sweeping the land with my gaze.

By this time the sun is up, and the meadow glitters with dew beneath its first golden rays. The forest beyond is quiet and still, except for the usual busyness of birds. There's no sign of Dane.

Casting Freya a glance, I find her watching me with a worried frown. I shake my head, open the car door, and get behind the wheel. She circles around and gets in the passenger side, folding her long limbs into the small space.

We share a look, and I feel a sort of understanding pass between us. Then I start the engine, put the car in gear, and turn towards town.