29
Savannah
Sam and I pulled into the parking lot of Eclipse just after two.
My arm was still throbbing, and I was eager to get to a mirror. The tat had looked amazing at the shop, but I wanted to see it in the light of day.
Alana had wrapped it to keep it clean, but I could tell it had already almost fully healed. Being a werewolf was freaky but definitely had its perks.
Jaxson was out back with Tony and half a dozen other wolves. He broke off their conversation and approached as I parked my Gran Fury and got out. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Fine, but under wraps for the moment.” I hoped that he couldn’t tell how much his approval meant to me.
Jaxson nodded and led us to the back of the lot. “Good. We’re almost ready.”
“You dodged my question in the tattoo parlor. Where were you this morning? Not that I need to know, but…”
My words trailed off as his body grew tense and shadows crossed his face. He’d had the same reaction in the tattoo shop. Whatever errand he’d been on hadn’t been a pleasant experience.
I was ready to drop the subject, but Jaxson stopped and turned, the lines of his face grim and set. “I was visiting my father and checking into the legend of the Dark Wolf God and Dragan’s connection to it. Things are worse than I feared. Our pack has an old prophecy: Dragan will attempt a ritual of sacrifice on a moonless night, and if he succeeds, the Dark God will return in seven days and bring destruction to the world of the living.”
A cold wind blew across my skin, though the air was still.
“It’s new moon now,” Sam whispered.
Jaxson nodded. “We need to stop him. Tonight. My source said to do anything and everything in our power to destroy him.”
I swallowed hard. “Is everything ready? You had me waiting tables and running marathons instead of helping.”
He leaned close. “Yes. To clear your head after what happened. To show you who you are and what you’re a part of now. We’re going to need to rely on each other tonight. Guns and ammo are easy to get a hold of. Trust isn’t.”
I glanced at the wolves loading equipment into the trucks. Jaxson’s best people. Some I recognized, others I didn’t. All were ripped and lean and looked like professional killers.
My pack.
Jaxson cleared his throat and stepped close to Sam and me. “There’s more,” he whispered. “The prophecy said that Dragan would steal our wolves.”
Shit.
“When I spoke to Kahanov—I mean Dragan—in the Dreamlands, he asked for my wolf,” I hissed.
And you almost gave me to him,Wolfie snapped.
Guilt tore at me.
Jaxson tensed, but his voice was calm. “Don’t speak of this to anyone. Only the three of us know, and we need to keep it that way.”
Sam and I nodded, and Jaxson turned toward the trucks. “We’d better go.”
I followed after. “Well, I’m not sure it’ll help, but for what it’s worth, I did some investigating into Pere Cheney Cemetery while waiting for my appointment.”
Jaxson glanced back at me over his shoulder. “Learn anything useful?”
“Maybe?” I shrugged, unsure what could possibly count as useful, given that our plan was to disrupt a biker rally—but with magic places, you never knew.
“Pere Cheney was a ghost town that was wiped out in the eighteen-nineties by diphtheria or plague, or perhaps”—I allowed myself a little dramatic pause—“a witch’s curse. Legends say that her restless spirit still haunts the graveyard.”
He grunted. “Humans are barbaric. Most people hanged as witches were just young girls who spoke their minds or got pregnant.”
Slightly deflated, I said, “Yeah. The stories also say that, but it’s kind of less exciting and more depressing. Either way, the town’s gone, and the graveyard’s just an overgrown clearing in the middle of nowhere.”
Reaching the trucks, I lifted up the tarp to see stacks of guns and ammunition. It was a lot, though I guessed most of the team would be in wolf form. That was how we’d attacked Billy’s cabin.
At that moment, three black SUVs with tinted windows pulled into the lot. The werewolves pulled the tarp back over the weapons, and Tony slowly slipped a shotgun out of the back seat.
Jaxson stopped and waited as the lead SUV rolled to a halt.
Agent Harlow dropped out of the driver’s side with frustration boiling off her in waves. “Looks like you’re planning a party. Why wasn’t I invited?”
Jaxson’s face betrayed no emotion. “Because you’re not.”
She nodded to the all-too-suspicious tarp on the back of Jaxson’s truck. “I thought I told you three not go vigilante again. That we’d help you take down Grayling, or whatever he’s calling himself now.”
“Dragan,” I said.