Chapter One
The second full moon of the month rode high in the sky, filling the night with her light and her energy. For many, a blue moon was either a symbol of good luck or bad, depending on which part of the globe they came from and what superstitions they believed in.
For witches, it was a symbol of great power. A prime time in which to perform rituals of prophecy and protection.
It was also a symbol of great change.
And change was coming.
To this reservation, and to my life.
I shivered and wrapped the old woolen sweater tighter around my body. It filled my nostrils with a musky, smoky scent and made me wish it was the arms of the man to whom it belonged.
But tonight was the one night that couldn’t happen.
Aiden O’Connor—the man I’d fallen in love with, the man I shared my life with—was a werewolf. While a full moon didn’t force them to shift shape, or even become monsters, as so many old myths would have everyone believe, they nevertheless gravitated to their home compounds in order to run wild with their pack, enjoying the freedom and the power of the moon.
As a witch, I could never participate in that part of his life. I would never be invited onto pack grounds except in cases of emergency. And I would certainly never be welcomed into his family as his partner. Hell, his mother was having a hard enough time accepting me as his lover.
And she was the reason my life—and Aiden’s—was on the cusp of change. The bitch had invited Mia—the werewolf he’d once asked to be his wife—to return.
She wasn’t here yet, but she was close, maybe only a day or so away. It wasn’t only the moonlit threads of destiny that whispered of her arrival, but also my precognitive senses and dreams.
Of course, I’d gone into this relationship knowing full well this day would come. Knowing he’d take my heart and then tear it into a million pieces. I’d nevertheless hoped for a few more years rather than just a few more days.
I sighed, closed my eyes against the sting of tears, and raised my face to the moon. Her caress was cold, and her power flooded my senses, expanding and strengthening them.
That’s when I felt it.
Not the presence of the woman who’d shatter the current perfection of my life, but rather, evil.
It swirled through the chilled darkness, intent on bloody revenge.
My eyes snapped open and I scanned the inky waters of the lake directly opposite the balcony on which I stood. Moonlight glinted off the gentle waves that lapped at the shore, and the wind stirred through the trees, making the leaves whisper and moan. Neither held any sort of threat and yet … and yet, I was certain trees played a part in whatever I sensed.
Which wasn’t overly helpful when parks, forests, and bush covered a good proportion of the Faelan Werewolf Reservation.
There was only one way I’d have any hope of uncovering what was going on—without actually jumping in the car and driving around in the vague hope that proximity would strengthen the signal—and that was to use my psychic powers.
I sat down, crossed my legs, and then tugged the sweater over my knees in an effort to keep warm. After a deep breath to center my energy, I closed my eyes and reached down to that place deep inside where my psychometry and second sight lay leashed and waiting. When I provided psychic tracking services for clients, I generally used either touch or something personal to locate whatever it was they’d lost, but that was no longer really necessary. Thanks to the wild magic that infused my soul, my psychic talents had started mutating—a development that should have been impossible. Wild magic was an energy that came from deep within the earth’s core and was not something that could safely be used, as it was possible for it to be forever stained by darkness. The reason all manner of dark entities continued to flood the Faelan Reservation was the fact that—for too damn long—the council had willfully ignored the necessity for the larger of the two wellsprings to be protected. That had been rectified quite a few months ago now, but the echoes of her power still washed across the distant shores of darkness and remained a siren call to all the things that lived and breathed evil.
Of course, an unprotected wellspring was also the reason I could now use wild magic in ways no one had ever thought possible. My mother had unknowingly been pregnant with me when she’d been sent to restrain and protect an emerging wellspring, and the energy that had almost killed her should certainly have killed me. Instead, it had fused to my DNA, giving me a deep connection to the wilder forces of this world, though absolutely no one—including me—had been aware of that until I’d come into this reservation almost a year ago.
Where the connection would ultimately lead was anyone’s guess, but it continued to make changes to both my physical and psychic senses. If I was being at all honest, it scared the hell out of me.
I took another breath and tried to concentrate, but for too many minutes, nothing happened. The wind stirred around me, chilling my neck and toes, but there was no sense of the tenuous thread I’d sensed earlier.
Perhaps more power was required … the thought had barely crossed my mind when the inner wild magic responded. It burned through every fiber, every muscle, sharpening not only my psychic senses but also my physical. It allowed me to hear the distant, joyous howls of wolves as they ran through the trees, let me feel the flickering pulse of the two very different wellsprings—a heartbeat of power that briefly matched my own—and tugged the heady scent of earth and forest and distant rain into my nose.
But underneath those scents ran something far more intense and abrasive, a blast that was rose and geranium mixed with something suspiciously overripe or rotten.
It was coming from the north, though I doubted it was anywhere near Castle Rock. Which meant I’d have to jump into the car after all if I wanted to track this thing down.
I swore, pushed upright, and walked back into the bedroom. The king-sized bed was a mess, a legacy of the hours I’d spent tossing and turning before I’d gotten up. I’d undoubtedly regret doing so in the morning, given Saturday was usually one of the busiest days at the café I co-owned and ran with Belle—who was not only my best friend and fellow witch, but also my familiar—but there was nothing I could really do about that. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone in there looking the worse for wear. In the early days of my relationship with Aiden, it had become something of a running joke with many of our customers.
I hurriedly dressed, then grabbed my coat and a thick woolly hat and ran down the stairs. After making a cup of coffee to take with me, I grabbed my keys and headed out to my car. It was a cheery yellow-and-black Suzuki Swift that I mainly used to travel to and from the café. While the council had replaced yet another of our vehicles—evil seemed to have a penchant for blowing them up—the SUV cost an arm and a leg to run, so we used it mainly for business purposes. Me having the Suzi also meant Belle had wheels if she needed them. Not that she did all that much these days, given the amount of time she was now spending with Monty, who was not only the reservation’s resident witch but also my cousin. They tended to use his old Mustang to get around in.
Of course, these days Monty was also my boss, as I worked on a part-time basis as his assistant. By rights I should have contacted him about the brush of evil, but he and Belle had gone down to Melbourne to see the latest incarnation of Oklahoma. And that said a lot about how serious he was about his relationship with Belle, given he absolutely hated that particular musical.