“Ya have no idea what it means ta call upon the dead, Jacob.” I blink at the use of my name. A name I was given at birth – said all my life – but when said by this woman . . . It has new meaning. The name holds responsibility. Respect. Understanding.
“Ya will do right by her,” Marian says. “You, and ya pack of shiftas, is exactly what she needs. Don’t squanda’ it.”
“I have no plans to.”
“Good. ’Cause somethin’ tells me she’s gonna need ya.” Grunting, she struggles to stand, waving off my offered hand. “I reckon we’ll see great things from her in the near future.”
I hand over the cane and peer up at her. “You think she hasn’t discovered all she can do yet?”
She smiles, murmurs something about lunch being ready soon, and then hobbles back inside the house, leaving me to return to my thoughts. Not long after, Jinx releases the spirit’s form. There’s the flash of light near blinding as the sun, and then there’s Jinx.
While she’s crouched to the ground, her unbound hair whips in a gust of wind. She angles her head, breathes deep, and locks eyes with me. I dust off my pants when I stand, waving them over to head inside and grab our meal.
As soon as we turn to the door, we halt. Our plates are handed to us by a surly, burly witch named Greta, and by her permanent sneer, I can tell she was forced to deliver the plates. Probably by Marian. Probably to force the woman to get over herself. She had been the one to call me mongrel after all.
While making jokes and swapping memories, we munch on carrots, sandwiches, and chips outside. I’m grateful we did. I don’t think I could have endured the stares while I ate. Not today. Not when I have so much on my mind.
Meal eaten and plates returned to the kitchen, Cinder and Sara disappear to town for a break and a much-needed grocery run. The witches weren’t prepared for guests, and Marian plans to correct the oversight.
Jinx and I wander the grounds. Her hand is in mine as we leisurely stroll the perimeter. She avoids watching me for too long, though. She’s still off about our earlier talk, and I rack my mind for the part of it that could possibly have forced her into an awkward silence.
On our fourth round about the outside of the house, I glance at the dusty windows of the greenhouse. They’re streaked from yesterday’s rain, making the house appear as if it had been crying. I expect to see the cat and find I’m disappointed when I don’t. I want to ask Jinx about the peeping feline, and when I inhale to do so, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
We both halt in a thatch of weeds. Sighing, I fish it out from the dark depths of my jeans. “It’s Evo,” I whisper.
“Evo?” She leans and peers at the screen. “What’s he want?”
Shrugging, I pull Jinx against my chest. She sighs and wraps her arms around my waist while I angle us to face the ever-expanding view of fields, clouds, and sun. I can practically feel Jinx’s anxiety curl in her stomach. It’s evident in the way she clutches me.
The last time Evo was around, the Bane were hunting us in my woods.
I greet the Alpha of the Cloven Pack in a soothing voice for Jinx’s benefit, “Yeah?”
I run my hand up Jinx’s spine and tangle my fingers in her hair. She murmurs her contentment and leans her cheek against my sternum.
“How’s coven life treating you?” Evo answers with a hint of humor.
“It’s ah –” I rest my chin on top of Jinx’s head. “Different. Do you need something?”
“Yeah,” he sighs out. “I found a file. A couple actually.” In the background, I can hear his son chattering away while his mate, Kenna, tries to quiet the toddler. Jinx, having heard his words, stiffens and peers up at my chin.
“And? What’s in it?” I put the phone on a louder setting so Jinx can hear word for word but still quiet enough that anyone trying to listen in from inside the house can’t make out the conversation. With Evo’s old FBI connections, it’d be quite easy to get his hands on information better left buried, especially since the pack continued Evo’s mate’s private investigator gig. I imagine his pack office is full of beast-related files and packets of information. Flint Rockland had taken it over, but since he and his mate died during the Realms War, Kenna must have picked it back up.
“The first one is in the shifter files my father had kept.” I scowl, remembering how wicked his father was. It doesn’t surprise me that he would keep details on his enemies – everyone was his enemy – even though the way he ran everything else within the pack was less than ideal. “Did you know Wice killed his father?”
“And?” It’s not unusual for a son to challenge his father for the position as alpha. I had done it. Evo had done it. “What about it?”
“It wasn’t a proper challenge. He killed his father for money.”
“Money?” I blurt. The low-life piece of shit.
“Yeah. Snuck into his room while his father was sleeping and cut his throat.”
“So he’s rich.” I shrug. “What of it?”
“That’s it, though – he never did find the money.” I hear a door shut in his background, and I know whatever he’s going to say next is something he wants to keep as private as he can. “Wice had assumed it was in the pack’s bank account. His father had hidden the money. ’Til this day, I don’t think Wice ever found it.”
“Sucks to be him,” I say, my mood lifting considerably. That’s what becomes of greed, but the information doesn’t help us in any way. It’s of the past. We need information we can use for the future. Some sort of weakness we can exploit. “What else do you have?”
I hear a shuffle of papers. “The other file covers the investigation on Adriel Whitethorn’s missing sister. Basically, Kaya Whitethorn was of legal age to be on her own. They didn’t do anything about it. They did find her – shopping apparently – but they could not force her to return home because she claimed she was living on her own. As an adult.”
In the background, we hear Kenna shout, “In human terms, she was legally allowed to tell her guardian to fuck off.”
“But in species terms,” I begin, growling. “We handle things differently.”
I let out a deep sigh. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. There’s nothing we can do about what happened two decades ago.”
Jinx pulls away from me and rubs her hands up and down her sweatshirt-covered arms. “She’s in trouble.”
“Is that Jinx? What does she mean?” Evo asks.
I quickly recap the story we’ve been told and our belief that she was lured away. In a text, I had already told Evo that Jinx’s aunt is also a skinwalker and how she deceived us. Since we’ve helped them find people in the past, I was lucky he wanted to return the favor without me asking.
“I see,” Evo sighs. The way he says those two little words makes me feel uncomfortable like he’s connecting dots and he doesn’t want to voice theories aloud. I’m about to press him for the information when he adds, “There’s one more file.”
Jinx steps away, creating a small space between us as she gazes at the land. She hugs herself, preparing for the bit of information Evo saved for last.