Nell bends to my ear. “Would you mind translating whatever the hell she just said?”
Wyatt pulls out the first empty chair for his mate, shuddering as he seats himself. In a raspy drawl, he thanks the Commander for Bleeding Sun’s courteous welcome. In fact, it might be the first time I’ve seen him genuinely nervous.
Next, I take in Axe’s staunch expression at the head of table. He isn’t in the mood for small talk or dry formalities. These two forget that they aren’t here by invitation; they are here by his direct orders.
Unfolding my hands, I clear the air. “The Alpha and his cabinet have some questions they’d like to ask you regarding our history.”
Maurleen is unfazed by the narrowing of the Sentinel’s eyes and flaring nostrils, assessing her scent for an inkling of fear. Baring her pearly white teeth, she shows him none.
Axe assumes an Alpha-typical posture, erect and brooding. “I’d like you to start by explaining why my enemies started pursuing her the second I brought her here.”
Jabir clears his throat, walking them through the bizarre events that occurred shortly after Axe and I left Glacier Meadow, making it clear that vampires have my name and my scent on their radar.
“Have you ruled out the possibility of a spy infiltrating the pack?”
Nell is quick to shoot Wyatt down. “We have no reason to suspect that at this time. Members know that the punishment for that sort of treason is . . . most severe.”
“But it remains a possibility,” he persists.
At the mere suggestion, a muscle feathers in the Alpha’s jaw. "If you'd like to start this out by turning accusations on us, then we're going to move this conversation somewhere far less accommodating."
Shit. It is far too early to be dishing out threats.
Axe continues. "Let's cut the bullshit. The three of you are going to tell us who you are and why every creature this side of Somnium is drawn to Vessa's scent. And don't tell me it has to do with her second sight, because we both know she is far more special than that."
A tremor of panic travels down my spine. I look to Maurleen remorsefully.
Underneath the table, she squeezes my hand. Maurleen corrects her posture. For a moment, I almost believe she is about to recite the same backstory she gave to Paul Childers when we showed up on his doorstep.
“All the girls in my family’s coven inherit gifts. Mind reading, harvesting, you name it. Since I was a teenager, I’ve conversed with spirits beyond Terris. Ancestors and tutelary spirits, mostly. But I’ve also received dreamlike flashes, depicting moments of my life that have yet to come. My life, and Vessa’s. As the years passed and the visions became more frequent, it became clear that our goddess has a purpose for the two of us."
Nell cranes her neck. "Sorry, did you say visions?"
Maurleen opens her bag and sets a worn terracotta journal on the table. The same one I flipped through back in Pinesdale. “The summer I turned eighteen, I left my coven after receiving a series of new visions. You’ll stumble on those in the first few pages of this diary,” Maurleen explains. “After locating another oracle named Lyndi, I learned that to survive, I needed to find sanctuary among the lycans. By trading our secrets, the girl’s identity began to take shape. She, too, would be forced to leave her family for a lycan pack, finding a powerful mate in the process. As secretive and overprotective as you mutts may be, it didn’t make sense for lycans to be after her if they did not yet know this fate. Which leaves only one other logical possibility . . . our common enemy.”
Axe’s knuckles clench bone white. “Vampires.”
Nell pivots to him, whispering, “If she has the sight of an oracle, then that must make her one of?—"
“The Servos Primae Lunari,” Maurleen finishes for her. “Yes. I have been blessed by the Goddess.”
In all the years I have known her, not once has she ever spoken of the secret order outside of whatever shelter we were inhabiting. Only Lyndi, her dearest friend and fellow oracle knew the intricate details of her sacred connection to the deity.
This is really happening.
Axe slides the journal over to Jabir on his left. The Beta flips open to the first page. “You kept record of your visions?”
“For almost fifteen years now. By all means, have yourself a look.”
“When was the last time you experienced a new vision?” I insert, still holding my breath. Something about Jabir combing through her writing feels a little too personal.
“Two days ago.”
“Would you care to share it with us?” Axe asks. An order, not a question.
Maurleen bites her lip, panning to me beneath long lashes. Oh, great. I know what that look means.
Staring down the Alpha she says, “Let’s see, how do I put this? You were . . . checking her oil.”
