Alpha's Legacy (Black Moon Saga Book 3)

39. Wild Magic Returns: Pete

With all of Anna Jade’s things that she left at my house to pick through, Willow is able to capture enough of her essence to use for scrying. It sounds cool in theory, but in practice, it’s kind of boring. She basically shuts herself in my bedroom and hovers over her crystal ball for a day straight, time that the rest of us try to use wisely for making our final preparations.

If I’m being honest, that part is unnecessary. We’re ready. It's just that we all kind of collectively hoped that the scrying thing would be a quick process, but since it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be, we’re doing what we can to keep busy and avoid feeling like we’re wasting precious time.

Angel seems to understand the quirky, abbreviated, order-barking way that Willow communicates when she’s busy with the crystal ball, so we leave him in there with her to help her narrow down Anna Jade’s location. He seems to have the blueprints we dug up memorized already, so that’s helpful for the process too.

Nolan and Bruno spend some time checking in with the Black Moon scouts, which is kind of a rare opportunity for them, and they’re geeked to have it. I mean, usually when a merc encounters a Black Moon scout, he either has no idea that it happened, or it doesn’t end well for him.

As for me, well, I have the honor and privilege of waiting at the border to greet Phoebe when she arrives, a task that has me feeling uncharacteristically nervous and on edge because I have no idea how she feels about coming back here or working with us. I don't even know whether she knows that her father will be involved in this. I wasn't privy to the conversation, nor do I know the details of what she expects or how much she knows because I let her mom be the one to contact her, suspecting that if I called her myself, she might not even answer.

As much as I’ve replayed the day that she left over and over in my mind, I still can’t figure out what I ever did or said that left her with the impression that I had some problem with her because she’s part-witch. Honestly, I still can’t figure out how she ever came to the conclusion that I merely tolerated her presence rather than actually liking her as a person either.

I’ve always liked her just fine, though I’ve never had a single romantic feeling or intention toward her, but I was up front with her about that from the day that I met her. It never changed, and I don’t quite understand why she eventually came to hold it against me that my stance on that was unwavering.

We were friends, good friends, roommates for a few years even, and I always enjoyed her company and appreciated her help on jobs. I never asked her to stay after I got sick, and I always thanked her for it. I feel like I didn’t at any point take her for granted, which is another accusation she slung at me before she left.

So yeah, not knowing exactly where I went wrong, I still don’t know how to fix it. My take on it has always been that she feels what she feels, and pointing out the facts as I see them won’t change that, so I’ve always left her alone. She was done with me and wanted to leave. So be it then.

When she does finally arrive, she catches my eye over one of the patrol guards’ shoulders as he pats her down and checks her out to make sure she’s safe to allow through. The look she gives me is tense and hard to read, so I still don’t know what to expect. But once the guards decide that she’s good to go, I step forward and reach out to pick up one of the suitcases she’s brought with her.

She watches with that same stony expression, saying nothing to encourage or stop me, so I carry that one and let her take the other bag. We walk a few paces down the drive to my waiting truck, neither of us saying anything just yet. It feels a bit like there’s a massive balloon expanding across the invisible rift between us, and we’re both on edge just waiting for it to burst. We know the explosion is coming, but neither of us knows exactly when or how it will happen, and we have no idea what to do about it.

Until finally, we both decide to start talking at once.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry –” I start to say at the same time that she blurts, “I’m just here to help Kylie because I kind of owe it to her.”

“Okay, fair enough,” I tell her agreeably. “But I just want you to know that to me, you’re still the same friend that you always were, and I don’t have any issue with you or anything. You’re welcome here, and I welcome you as much as everyone else. I don’t want it to be awkward or uncomfortable for you.”

She scoffs at that last part, tossing the bag that she’s carrying into the bed of my truck. I follow suit with the suitcase, and then we both get into the cab and get situated.

“You’re sorry about what?” she asks once she’s buckled in.

“I’m sorry about how things ended, how it went down the day that you left,” I explain. “To be honest, I don’t entirely understand what happened or what I did to upset you, but if there’s anything I can do to fix it, I’m all ears.”

“Of course you don’t understand,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring out the window.

We ride in silence for a bit, and then she takes a breath and lets loose on me.

“You had your wolf blinders on the whole time I knew you. The only potential you could ever see for finding what you wanted in a partner was wolf, wolf, wolf,” she rants, and then starts laughing. “Woof, woof, woof I suppose I should say,” she adds, giggling until she's had her fill of mocking my affection for werewolves.

“But that’s so ridiculously short-sighted that it’s infuriating,” she goes on, her smile turning into a scowl now. “If one fox yearning for a lifelong partner exists, is it so crazy to think that there could be two? And that maybe fate could bring the two of them together just like with wolves? I mean, I literally ran into you, and you caught me. And then you saved my life. If that’s not fate, then I don’t know what is. But you could never see it.”

“Fate's involvement in our lives isn't exclusive to true love,” I argue back, gently, knowing that it’s shaky territory. We’ve had this argument before, and it went badly. “We were obviously meant to cross paths, but that doesn’t mean that we were supposed to be together. My feelings count too, you know.”

“Your lack of feelings, you mean.”

“Exactly. I adore you, Phoebe, and I always have. But I’m not in love with you, and it has nothing to do with your age or being part-witch or anything like that. Actually, the witch part makes you unique and made life interesting once you joined the crew, especially because you were just coming into your power when we first met you. It was quite a ride as you figured out all the random new things that you could suddenly do, especially because of how your new talents seemed to show up exactly when we needed them to.”

I chuckle, reminiscing to myself, memories of our days traveling together with our old crew flashing through my head. Phoebe was barely 16 when she crashed into my life, and I was probably about 24 or 25 or so. I always felt more like her protective older brother than anything even remotely resembling a potential romantic partner. Then a few years later, when my illness forced me to settle down in one place and she insisted on staying with me and suddenly went all domestic in a pinch, I really tried to see her differently. I did. But I just couldn’t.

“I appreciate the hell out of what you did for me once I got sick,” I decide to say out loud, suspecting that she probably didn’t hear enough of it when I was so ill and closed in on myself. “And I understand that there wasn’t a lot in it for you. I wasn’t much of a companion then, and I’m sorry for that.”

She doesn’t respond to any of what I’ve said, falling quiet and thoughtful instead as I drive us the rest of the way back to the house that we used to share. I hear her sharp intake of breath as soon as it comes into view and can't help wondering what’s going through her head and her heart about it, but I don’t ask. It’s not my right to know, or at least I feel like it’s not.

Though I do wonder, and have been wondering, if I shouldn’t ask Kylie for a different house. Just being here again, smelling Anna Jade around everywhere since she apparently moved herself in at some point before she left on her adventure, it’s been getting to me. It’s even worse because I don’t know where she is right now or if she’s safe, but even if she was somewhere snug and secure, I think I’d still be driving myself nuts thinking of her and the life we might soon have together.

I want it, now that I can literally smell it all over my house. Even if I still don’t feel worthy of someone as good and pure as Anna Jade, I’ve been thinking that maybe I can earn it a little bit by bringing her back safe and sound, and then work my ass off every day of the rest of our lives to keep on deserving her.

But anyway, it’s weird. This house used to belong to the dark witch that cursed Kylie’s family and even played a part in developing some of the poisons and vampiric artifacts that affected so many of our friends and loved ones during the war we all fought together. My own illness might have been partially that witch’s doing, and the artifact that created a vampiric abomination out of an Alpha werewolf was definitely partly her creation. And it killed Kylie’s Papa, Anna Jade’s grandpa. That woman was evil and dark and wicked, and I’ve always felt a little strange about taking over her house.

It was Phoebe who originally wanted it, and it was the herb garden that sold it for us both. That’s the only reason that I stayed here even after Phoebe left. There’s something about the soil here that allows it to grow the healthiest and most plentiful bounties of even rare and finicky plants that usually demand a specific climate and careful tending. They don't need any of that here, though. Anything I want to grow, it just grows.

Anya swears that it isn’t dark magic. Eramund agrees. Even if it’s something supernatural at play there, I’m okay with taking advantage of whatever it is and reaping the bountiful benefits. I need some of those herbs for the poisons and concoctions that I cook up in my lab, and they grow freely and willingly out back in my very own herb garden, easy peasy and hella cheap.

But still, I feel funny about starting a new life in this old house that holds so much dark and depressing history within its walls. Not a lot of its past is happy, and though I know that it’s on me to create new and good memories no matter where we live, I do wonder if anywhere but here would be a better choice for building a new life with my mate. I also can’t help wondering how Phoebe feels about it, and I suppose that Anna Jade might have some thoughts on it too, which I’m dying to hear.

Honestly, I’m just dying to have her back. I’ve missed her, and now I’m worried sick about her. That, plus I’m eager to meet the woman she’s become. Eight years has probably made a whole lot of difference, or more like changed everything about her, not least of all turning her from a girl into a woman. I’ve seen pictures, but I’m itching to touch her again, to get to know her again. And that scent of hers. Man, it’s driving me insane. I need her back. Now.

“Anna Jade has been living here,” I decide I should probably inform Phoebe ahead of time, finally speaking a sliver of my thoughts out loud.

She’ll know the second that we get inside that there’s been a woman in there, and I’d rather we get it out of the way now. It’s obvious that she still has some lingering feelings and resentment about me never choosing her as my mate, so the last thing that I need is for her to find out about my werewolf mate by having Anna Jade's scent smack her in the face the second that she steps through the door.

“Did you move or something?” she wonders, finally turning to look at me. “I heard that you finally found a healer who cured you, and I wondered if you’d pick up and get back to your old life after that.”

“Kind of. And the healer, uh … it was Anna Jade, actually.”

How in the heck do I explain this delicately? I’ve been puzzling that over ever since we decided to bring Phoebe into this, and I still haven’t figured it out. She’s giving me a suspicious and quizzical look, demanding more of an answer, though I think she might also be starting to piece things together on her own. Maybe. I hope. I don't want to have to say it.

“I did leave, but it wasn’t that I wanted to, per se,” I begin carefully. “Eramund asked me to, for Anna Jade’s sake, and Kylie agreed. So I did, and I hooked back up with the vampire hunters and have been working for them, cooking up some of my special brews and developing some new formulas specifically for their work.”

“Why would you go back to what nearly killed you?” she demands angrily, cutting me off before I can finish explaining.

And she’s a witch, one whose magic sometimes gets a bit volatile when she’s emotional, so I can not only hear her anger, but I can feel it. It’s filling the truck’s cabin now, practically choking me.

“Down girl,” I force out, straining a little bit to breathe and speak.

“Out,” she barks, her eyes flashing that angry amber color that they get when she’s losing control.

Honestly, I’ve kind of missed this. Like I said, it was always fun having her around. She’s a quirky sort of witch, kind of wild and a bit feral sometimes. She doesn’t always know what her magic is going to do, and that makes things exciting.

But I realize that she wants me to get out of the truck, and since we’re parked in my driveway now anyway, I can do that. I grab for the keys and shut it down, and then hurry to get my door open.

Just in time too. A second or two later, I feel the aftershocks of the explosion that almost got me. My eardrums sting a little from it, despite the blast being contained inside the truck. I’m not worried about the truck, though. I know it’s fine. Her emotions are usually only dangerous for the senses, mine specifically. We foxes are sensitive like that.

With the explosion over, she finally lets herself out of the truck, turning to glare at me again as soon as her feet touch the ground.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she complains accusingly, continuing the previous conversation as if she didn't just spontaneously combust in my truck a second ago. “How stupid can you be, going and putting yourself right back into what got you poisoned in the first place?”

“It’s been a minute since you’ve gotten worked up like that, at least that I’ve been around to witness,” I comment instead of answering her accusation directly just yet. “That was awesome! I've missed that.”

“Yeah, well, I had learned to control that after being around you so much and being forced to learn to get a handle on it. You can be endlessly infuriating sometimes,” she seethes, shaking her head at me. “But I guess I’m out of practice now. Things have been calmer since I left here, so I guess I forgot what it was like to have to be around you and constantly keep my guard up. Maybe leaving was for the best after all. Maybe you’re no good for me, or my magic.”

“Ouch.”

She's the same Phoebe that I remember, but also not. She used to be rather timid, but this Phoebe is much more direct and outspoken. Good for her, though. She finally found her voice, which I'm glad for even if it's me she's turning it on now.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, not bothering to finish that.

Now that I think of it, actually, this is exactly the Phoebe I remember, the person she was toward the end of our time together. This is the Phoebe who blew up at me one day and left the next. Maybe she's onto something. Maybe something about me brings out parts of her that she doesn't like, and maybe she is better off ... wherever she's been. I don't actually know.

But I can put her mind at ease about this at least. She has it wrong, what she thinks I've been doing with the hunters. I'm not their bait anymore. That was a one-time thing that I'll never, ever do again, not that Bria would allow me to anyway.

“I don’t hunt vampires, for the record. I just cook up the brews and craft some of their weapons and sheaths for them. I’m their R and D guy, basically. Behind the scenes, low risk, low drama,” I return her shrug with one of my own, pausing dramatically before adding, “loads of science and experimenting with things that go boom, though.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding her approval. “Good. That sounds like you, actually. Probably more than all the sneaking around and throwing ninja knives at people’s faces.”

“I do my fair share of that too, just not with vampires.”

I can’t help smirking at her smugly, laughing when she gives me an incredulous look and shakes her head again, disapprovingly this time.

When I reach out to grab for her stuff in the back of my truck, she holds out a hand to stop me from taking it.

“Kylie offered me a room at the packhouse,” she informs me. “I’m not staying here.”

“I wasn’t offering,” I assure her, explaining, “I just wanted to put this stuff up front. You know, in case it rains or whatever. Your mom is in the house, and she wants to see you first thing before I take you anywhere else, but I don’t know how long that will take.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Not that you’re not welcome or anything,” I add hurriedly. “More that I just don’t know how Anna Jade would feel about it. She seems to have put her claim on the house while I was away, and with her not here now, I don’t want … well, I don’t know what I do or don’t want, or I guess more like I don't know what she would want, and -”

“It’s fine,” she cuts in to stop my awkward rambling. “I mean, I don’t really get what you’re going on about, but I’m here to do a job, nothing more, and I already have a place to stay. It’s fine. Really.”

“Good.”

I scuff my foot around in the dirt of the driveway for a minute, debating whether I should try to make sure that she understands what I’ve been hinting at, but decide against it. She’s here to do a job and nothing more. No need to create drama where it doesn’t need to be.

“So, this scrying thing that your mom does,” I start in, deciding to ask about that instead. Then I glance up and meet her eyes, noticing that they aren’t glaring at me anymore. “How long does that take? Because I kind of want to get going. Every second that we wait is another that Anna Jade spends in captivity.”

“But every second spent here is a second or more that we save ourselves from spending in the tunnels, all while remaining safely away from vampires and hostile magic,” she points out. “My mom will keep going until she finds a secure location to teleport us to that will get us as close as she feels comfortable with, saving us the hassle of finding a way in, walking around in unfamiliar turf rife with enemies and traps and blindly feeling around for clues.”

“True,” I concede, hoping that she’s right about that.

“Pretend like her being in the house doing her thing is basically like us already being there in the tunnels and finding our way through, only safer,” she adds, smiling as she bro-slaps me on the shoulder. “We’re already there, Pete. No time is being wasted is what I’m saying.”

“I can get behind that.”

It honestly does help me relax some to know that that is what Willow is doing in there. Because once she put herself into witch-mode and started scrying, she hasn’t really explained much. Like I said, pretty much only Angel gets her, probably because he gets like that when he’s in his stealth-ninja mode, so they basically speak the same weird language and somehow understand each other.

I let Phoebe lead the way into the house, patiently following behind her and waiting while she takes it in and has her moment of reconnecting with her old home. Then she disappears into the bedroom with her mom and Angel, and I find myself going out back to putter in the garden and wait. Hopefully not for too much longer, though.

Despite everything that Phoebe just said, I’d almost rather be blindly stumbling around the tunnels to find the way to Anna Jade. At least then it would feel like I was doing something other than standing around and being useless while my mate is stuck with Grayson-freaking-Donovan, enduring Goddess only knows what while she waits for us to come for her and bring her home.

Willow had better hurry it up, and Grayson had better not touch a hair on Anna Jade's head. That's what I'm saying.