The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Page 7

  “What do you mean the bar is spelled?” I asked Sal.

  “By a witch of course,” Sal said. “Thornwood is teeming with all kinds of Supernaturals. Now, what can I get you both to drink?” Her long fingernails, yellowed and galvanized from years of smoking, trailed over the draft beer tabs. Clearly, being legal age was not of importance in the Were community.

  “Beer is fine,” I said, propping my elbows on the table. Wren lifted his customary brow and nodded when Sal’s gaze fell on him. I scanned the room again, taking special care to keep track of Ryker. He was currently leaning up against the wall just beneath a mounted deer head, talking with a couple of girls that looked to be closer to our age. The bar was larger than I expected. Neon beer signs lit up the walls and low hanging glass lamps hovered over at least twenty filled tables.

  “Sorry about the intense greeting,” Sal said, sliding me a tall glass of beer. The amber liquid sloshed over the side, dripping onto the bar top. “Ryker likes to be a little theatrical. He has a strong personality, but he means well.”

  “I probably should have stayed quiet,” I said, picking up my drink. “I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful.”

  Sal laughed. “Ryker likes a woman with a fiery temper.”

  Wren bristled beside me. “How long has Ryker been in charge?”

  “Thomas stepped down last year,” Sal answered. “He’s an Elder now; he keeps a close watch over everything, but Ryker is a good leader. The kind of leader a pack like Thornwood needs. He makes the tough decisions with the pack’s best interests at heart.” Sal leaned over the counter in front of us, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “Sure was sorry to hear about Niall’s passing. Your father was a good man.”

  “Thank you,” Wren said.

  “They got any idea who murdered him?”

  A lump rose in the back of my throat then. I gripped my glass, feeling the condensation dripping over my fingers.

  “None,” Wren said.

  “That’s a damn shame.” Sal was studying Wren with an unwavering gaze–an expression that showed me she was practiced in the art of keeping her face neutral. I was sensing that perhaps she knew more about Niall’s murderer than she was leading us to believe. Was it possible that his murderer had had any affiliation with the Thornwood pack?

  I saw the girl in my mind, pictured her wild mane of hair blowing in the wind. I saw the color of her caramel eyes, and the way her lips seemed to curl in a naturally cruel sneer. Her image was seared into my brain, another face that haunted my nightmares.

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect when Ryker invited us out,” Wren said a moment later. “It was… noble… of him to recognize my father.” Wren was fishing.

  “Ryker is a noble man,” Sal said simply.

  “So,” I piped up, “is it normal to have a witch working for the pack?”

  A small twitch lifted the corner of Sal’s lip. “And why would you want to know, honey?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  Sal’s grin widened. I realized she knew that I was in fact a Supernatural of some kind. I wouldn’t have been able to get into the bar otherwise, and her telling me about the spell had been a test. They knew I wasn’t a werewolf because I didn’t smell like one, but that didn’t mean I had any intention of telling them what I was.

  “I know some witches,” I offered instead. “They’re standoffish. I never see them hanging around any other Supes.”

  “Witches are a shady bunch,” Sal said. “I’d never trust one myself. Never can be too sure what they’re up to.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said, raising my glass in a toast. Sal tipped her whisky glass against mine and tossed back the contents.

  A young man walked up to the bar; he stood about six-foot-three with long black hair he kept tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His face was narrow, the bones sloping to the sharp point of his chin. Kind, almond-brown eyes softened the harsh lines of his bone structure. “Well,” he drawled, “just look what the cat dragged in, I don’t believe it. Wren, it’s good to see you man.”

  Wren stood up and clapped the guy on the shoulder. “What have you been up to Roy? It’s been a long time.”

  “Nothing much man, same old same around here. Heard you were back in Silver Mountain. Are you planning to stick around this time?”

  “I go where she goes.” Wren looked at me, smiled.

  Roy turned, as if noticing me for the first time. “Ah, I see.” Roy extended his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

  “Likewise,” I said.

  “So Wren found a girl worth settling down for, huh?” Roy laughed and shook his head. “Took you long enough to pick one.” Roy turned back to me and leaned down so that his mouth was at my ear. “Our boy was a bit of a charmer back in the day. His methods were more catch and release though. Fun and done.”

  “Wow,” I said, stretching out the syllable. I looked at Wren, tilting my head and raising my eyebrows.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Wren said. “Roy likes to instigate.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Roy laughed. I made a mental note to ask Wren about his previous experiences in Thornwood. I knew if I asked now, I’d be overheard by intrusive super-hearing werewolf ears. A few others came up to the bar after that, offering their condolences and sharing stories about the good times the two packs had when they ran together. As I watched them one by one, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that this was all just a ploy to get Wren re-introduced to the pack–to show him what he was missing.

  “By the way, how long is your mom in town?” Roy asked. “My mom loves the woman to death but I think she’s ready for her to go back to Washington. I haven’t been home much, but apparently all she’s been doing is complaining and moping around about how much she misses Silver Mountain. It’s driving my mom nuts.”

  “She’s staying with Nelly?” Wren furrowed his brows.

  “Well, yeah, you didn’t know?”

  “I don’t make a habit of keeping tabs on her whereabouts. Gabriella and I aren’t on the best of terms anymore.” Wren flexed his scarred hand across his thigh, but Roy was oblivious. “So she’s been hanging out in Thornwood, huh?”

  “Yeah. That’s how Ryker found out about Niall’s passing.”

  “Hmph,” Wren grumbled.

  Ryker was making his way over to the bar now, his arms draped over the girls’ shoulders. One was a vivacious brunette with curves in all the right places, the other a busty blonde with sky-blue eyes she couldn’t seem to keep off Wren.

  “Sal taking care of you I hope?” Ryker asked.

  Wren held up his beer.

  “Hi, Summer Boy,” the blonde said. “Been a long time hasn’t it?”

  “Hailey,” Wren greeted her.

  Her eyes cut to me, a smug smile tilting the corner of her rose petal lips. She’d used a special nickname for Wren and she wanted to make sure I’d gotten the message. I had. Loud and clear. I kept my expression neutral. I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of reacting.

  “You guys up for a round of eight-ball?” Ryker asked. “Sal, bring over a pitcher of the good stuff, would ya’?”

  “You got it darlin’,” she said, hopping to her feet.

  Wren offered me his hand, helping me down from the barstool before meeting the others at the pool table. There were other Weres standing close by, their figures only half visible from the smoky shadows. Wren shifted me in front of him, drawing my back against his chest as his fingertips skated down the sides of my arms. This, I saw, did not go unnoticed by the blonde girl–Hailey? Her baby blues were pools of liquid envy.

  Wren leaned down, h
is breath warm against my ear. “You okay?” he whispered so low I had to second guess what he’d said before nodding.

  Ryker handed Wren a cue and offered one to me. “Three against three, guest breaks,” he said, pointing his cue at me. I took a deep breath and walked over to the table, leaned over and carefully lined up the cue ball. On an exhale, I took the shot and the balls dispersed around the table with a loud clatter. The dark red ball, my lucky number seven, slid into the far right-hand pocket.

  “Solids,” I claimed. I moved around the table, searching for my next target. I focused on the purple ball, number four, and leaned over the table. “Side pocket,” I called, pointing toward it. I lined up my shot and took it. The cue ball smacked into the purple ball, banking off the side rail and landing in the side pocket as predicted.

  “If I’d known you were good, I might not have let you go first,” Ryker sounded amused, casually leaning against the wall.

  “Yellow ball, left pocket.” I arched my back as I leaned across the table, grateful I was positioned in front of Wren. Tension hummed through the airwaves with an electrical pulse. The cue ball clinked against the yellow ball, but fell short of the pocket by half an inch at most. “Damn,” I muttered.

  “That was a good run,” Wren complimented. He reached for me, and his fingers seemed to sear through the fabric of my clothes. I couldn’t tell if he was keeping me close for his benefit or for mine.

  “Hailey, you’re up,” Ryker barked. “Where’d you learn to play, Quinn?”

  “Pool hall in Silver Mountain,” I said. “My friends and I are extremely competitive. I don’t like to lose.”

  “I’d say not,” Ryker said, studying me and watching the way Wren’s arms tightened around my waist.

  I wanted to leave. I wished Ryker would get to the point already, but I knew he was enjoying the slow-torture of keeping us here. He might have been a respected, revered leader to his pack, but his predatory gaze made my stomach twist. Hailey missed her shot and released a rather canine sounding growl of annoyance.

  “You’ll get it next time, doll. Roy, it’s your turn.”

  “How’s Thomas?” Wren asked. “My father often spoke of their friendship. I was hoping to see him tonight.”

  “He’s out of town on business I’m afraid,” Ryker said. “There’s a couple of Weres in the Asheville area that have been hunting in our territory.”

  “Can’t have that,” Wren said.

  “No, no we can’t. They just needed a friendly reminder about who the boss is around here.” Ryker twisted the cue in his hands, keeping his eyes on me. “Which brings me to my next point of interest…”

  “Silver Mountain,” Wren guessed.

  Ryker’s lips spread in a slow, unforgiving smile. “Niall was a gracious man, allowing our pack to settle in such close quarters to Silver Mountain when we established our territory years ago. I think we can both agree that my father returned the favor tenfold when your mother left with the new Alpha Master and took your old pack with her. Now, that’s a whole lot of land for one werewolf… He didn’t challenge Niall for the territory and allowed him to remain in control even though he was a lone wolf.” Ryker paused, reaching up to rub the stubble along his jaw. “Now that Niall has passed, it appears that Silver Mountain is back on the market. I’d like the Thornwood pack to lay claim.”

  And there it was. My eyelids flashed up, and I stared into Ryker’s cold, ebony eyes. He was looking at Wren and otherwise oblivious to my gaze.

  Wren snickered but there was no humor behind it. “I’m sure you’re aware that the park wardens are patrolling Silver Mountain. It must have caught your attention that a rogue pack of wolves moved into the area recently, swearing their allegiance to the return of the Dark Witch. It’s dangerous to be a wolf in Silver Mountain.”

  At the table, Roy missed his shot. Ryker pushed his massive frame away from the wall and ambled over to the table. “I have heard that, yes.” He leaned over the table and the cue ball sliced across the table with lightning speed. The balls cracked together, ricocheting across the table before one sank into the right-hand pocket. “My interests are with the territory. I’m not concerning myself with witches and Dark magic. That doesn’t have anything to do with my pack.”

  “So you’re positive that no one in your pack could have gone rogue?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  Ryker’s cold electric gaze flashed up to mine. “The penalty of treason in my pack is death,” Ryker growled. “No one would dare cross me. In fact, if Thornwood had claim to Silver Mountain, you wouldn’t be having a rogue werewolf problem.”

  A sheet of ice caressed my shoulders, slinking down my back as his words echoed in the bar. The room fell silent. Ryker tore his lethal gaze away from me and shifted his attention back to the table. The next ball he called sank in the side pocket. I swallowed hard, forcing my attention on Ryker’s face.

  “I want you to consider joining our pack, Wren,” Ryker said a moment later. “If you’re planning to stay in Silver Mountain, you understand what not belonging to a pack could mean for you, right?”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider honoring the old alliance?” Wren offered.

  Ryker sneered. “I’ve had my eye on Silver Mountain for years. My pack would benefit from the natural resources the forest offers. Fresh hunting grounds, new business opportunities… The pack is growing, Wren, Thornwood needs to advance. The simple fact is this: we’re taking over Silver Mountain and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. It’s because of the relationship our fathers cultivated that I’m even giving you the opportunity to join our pack. I’m sure you can see how generous I’m being with this offer. I sincerely hope you’re smart enough to make the right decision.” Ryker leaned over the table, sinking the last striped ball into the corner pocket. “Eight ball, right corner,” he called.

  I couldn’t help myself. I called on Air silently and beckoned the element to blow the eight ball just enough to miss the pocket without it being obvious that I’d conjured it to move. A sharp pain shot through my temples but I bit the inside of my lip, clamping down on the pain. This was nature’s way of punishing me for using the element to aid in my own personal gain. It was worth it. The eight ball banked off the side rail and spun like a top in the middle of the table.

  Ryker clamped his jaw shut, and I watched with satisfaction as his muscle bulged over the bone in annoyance. “Wren,” he growled, “you’re up.”

  Wren straightened and made his way over to the pool table. I saw Hailey suck in her lower lip, watching the way Wren’s shirt fell away from his chest as he leaned across the table. “Eight ball, side pocket,” Wren called. The cue ball cracked into the eight ball with a loud clamor, rocketed off the rail and shot into the side pocket with ease. A smirk tugged the corners of my mouth, but I kept my eyes glued to the table. I sensed Ryker looking at me, knew that lethal gaze was burning holes into my face. I didn’t care.

  “Great shot, Wren,” Hailey complimented.

  Ryker shot her a stern look.

  “It’s been nice catching up, Ryker, but it’s getting late.” Wren straightened and met Ryker’s gaze.

  Ryker snickered. “I forgot you were still in high school.”

  “Not for much longer,” Wren reminded him, “I’m eighteen.” Old enough to challenge him for the Alpha Master position.

  “You have three days, Wren. I’m counting on you to make the right decision.”

  Wren nodded, backing us towards the door. I knew it would be a mistake to turn our backs on Ryker–knew somehow he’d see that as conceding. Sal was at the door when we finally reached it.

  “Take care, sugar.” She gave us a hopeful smile.

  The night air was cold and w
elcoming on my face. I sucked in a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs. Wren laced his fingers through mine and tugged me along; neither of us said a word until we were safe behind the doors of the Pontiac and on the road heading home. I watched the way the dashboard lights cast a soft glow across Wren’s features–watched the way the air expanded in his chest in a rush.

  “With the eight ball in there,” Wren finally spoke, “was that you?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Pain burned like hell but it was totally worth it to watch him lose.”

  Wren chuckled. “You didn’t have anything to do with my shot, right?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Just checking.” He looked both ways before blowing through the red light at the center of town. The group of teens had moved on, but both of us were anxious to get the hell out of there. Wren kept casting glances in the rearview mirror, checking to make sure we wouldn’t pick up a tail.

  “What are we going to do?” I breathed, tipping my head back into the seat. “You can’t honestly be considering joining their pack, right?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “We can’t let the Thornwood pack move into our territory either.” I shook my head. “For one, it’s too risky with the park wardens on the lookout for wolves in particular. Maybe you could talk to Ryker’s father. Maybe he’d listen to you,” I suggested. “He honored the alliance with Niall, I’m sure he’d honor it for you.”

  “Maybe if he were still the Alpha Master,” Wren said. “Ryker has other plans; he’s not the persuading kind.”

  “So the choices really boil down to join or…?” I swallowed hard, rubbing my clammy palms against my pant legs.

  “Die,” Wren finished the sentence. He reached over, taking my hand and holding it in his lap. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of my hand but my lungs constricted as though all the air had been sucked out of the car. “We’ll come up with something,” Wren said, turning to look at me, “we’ve got a little time.”