4
Jaxson
I pressed my cell phone to my ear and headed toward the highway. “What do you mean, you’ve made no progress?”
“Exactly what I said,” Sam muttered back across the line. “I’ve interrogated half of the cultists the Order has locked up in Bentham. Seems like Dragan didn’t tell them shit about what will happen when the Dark God returns. Most won’t say much, and the really crazy ones just keep repeating gibberish about how the Dark God is liberating our kind from the tyranny of men—and I don’t think they mean gender inequality. I’m pretty sure none of them have any idea what they signed up for.”
I ground my teeth. “Dragan must have told at least one of them what was going to happen when the Dark God returned—what they’d need to do to prepare. A location, signs, somewhere to meet, anything.”
“I’m trying everything I can,” she said sharply. “But feel free to get your ass back here and ask them yourself.”
A long silence stretched between us, and finally, Sam sighed. “Sorry, Jax. I was out of line. I’ll keep trying.”
“Good,” I growled softly. “I’m heading up to Pere Cheney with Savannah to tie up some loose ends, so it’s on you. If there’s anything to learn, I know you’ll find it.”
After another pause, Sam asked, “Is Savannah willing to meet with the council? We need to get ahead of this before the pack finds out about her.”
I already knew that proposal wasn’t going to go over well.
“I’m working on it,” I said, pushing some low brush out of the way. “The prophecy has her spooked. The first step is getting her back to pack lands and around others of our kind. She needs support. Then we can bring up the council.”
With that, I hung up and followed Savannah’s intoxicating scent to the highway.
Frustration clawed at me.
I’d called pack loremasters all around the Great Lakes, and so far, all I’d discovered were hazy warnings and ancient legends. Whispers about how the Dark God would return and reduce the world of man to ash and stone. How he would purge the earth of its human plague and restore it to the way it should have been—wild, with werewolves on top, of course.
Just threats and myths. No specifics. No clues how to stop it from happening.
Sam was the only one I’d told so far about Savannah’s connection to the prophecy. I hadn’t even mentioned it to Regina, but that would have to change. We needed help.
I stepped to the edge of the tree line and admired the woman standing beside the bed of my truck.
My mate. Herald of the apocalypse.
The brightness of Casey’s headlights made her hair look like flowing fire, and the backlighting, combined with her cocked stance, gave her plain white shirt and cutoff jeans shorts an almost exotic effect. I drank in each curve of her body with my eyes, desiring everything I saw. The one night we’d spent together was burned in my mind, and seeing her naked again on the beach and sensing her desire had need screaming through me. It had been all I could do to stop myself from taking her right there.
Unfortunately, a repeat of that one night wasn’t going to be an option. Her idiot cousin was here—and standing, for no gods-damned reason, in the bed of my truck.
I stepped into the beam of his lights. “Get. Off. My. Truck. Now.”
Casey went white for a moment, then hopped down, muttering, “Fucking alphas,” under his breath.
I let my claws slowly slip out and stepped very, very close.
He inched back and raised his hands. “Whoa there, Wolverine. I was just helping Savy.”
She turned and gave me a pleading glare. Please be civil.
Sighing, I retracted my claws and fished my keys out of my jacket. “Thanks for your help, LaSalle. We’ve got it from here.”
Casey shook his head. “Oh, hell, no. You’re not getting rid of me so easily. I’m coming with. Do you know how much trouble it was to get a freaking tombstone enchanted at the last minute?”
Savannah touched his arm tenderly. “And we really appreciate it, Casey. I mean it.”
“You owe me big time,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.
I glanced at the gravestone lying in the bed of my truck. It was red granite with an ornately carved trim, and inscribed, Here lies the witch of Pere Cheney—remembered forever while her accusers are long forgotten.
I raised my eyebrows. “No name?”
Savannah bit her lip apprehensively. “Yeah, that’s a bit of a problem. She didn’t give me one. She just asked for a beautiful, unbreakable gravestone that would last forever.”
I looked over at Casey, who seemed lost in thought. “Will it?”
He shrugged. “Hey, forever is a long time. Let’s not get into specifics. As far as you folks are concerned, it will.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You did the enchantment yourself, didn’t you?”
He glared back at me and ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I mean, where else was I going to get an enchanted gravestone on the weekend?”
I wasn’t sure how much I trusted his prowess as an enchanter, but I unlocked the truck anyway. “Fine. Let’s just get this tombstone up to Pere Cheney before it explodes in a ball of flame. It’s going to be a long drive.”