Chapter 49

Chapter 49
Chapter 49

“I’m sure.” She cocked her head, and I noticed the sarcasm dripping off every word.
I ignored her disgruntled state and kept a light smile on my face. “I picked up this scent and was hoping you could help me identify it.” After reaching into my pocket, I removed the piece of my garment, extending it toward the witch. “Can you take a whiff of this scent and identify it for us?”

The head witch’s eyes flew up and collided with mine. Shock flashed through her expression before her gaze grew shuttered.
She knows something.
My inner wolf growled in agreement.

A deep growl also rumbled from Ryker. I peered at him, noting his attention halted on a group of males at a table across the room. Hooked claws sliced out from Ryker’s fingertips. A quick peek at the other males showed their chests puffing out. Things were about to get ugly fast.

I made a move, grabbing hold of Ryker’s forearm and placed my lips by his ear. “Go take a walk outside and cool whatever the fuck is going on with you.”
Ryker tossed me a dark look over his shoulder.

With my teeth bared, I said, “I’ll meet you outside.”
Ryker turned away from me and took a step toward the table of males.

Shit!

I reached out, digging my nails into his arm. I uttered the one word I thought I’d never voice to a werebear… let alone him. “Please.”

Ryker’s head whipped around, his brows raised in shock and what looked like awe. I swallowed and held his gaze, allowing him to see the open vulnerability in me. We needed the witch’s help. And if that made me desperate, so be it.

Ryker’s amber eyes flickered as he peered into mine. Finally, the amber bled away till there was a thin ring around his pupils, the cobalt blue of his eyes visible once more.
“I’ll be outside,” he told me. His words weren’t biting, but soft.

I blinked, unsure of how to react or process the flip of emotions coming from this male. Ryker went to the door, sweeping past me, opened it and slipped outside. I stared at his retreating form. A seed of gratitude nestled in my heart, knowing what it must’ve cost this dominant alpha male to relinquish his wants to me.

⸻

“If you want my help any further, you best keep your bear on a tight leash,” the head witch called from behind me.

I turned around, jaw clenched. No matter how I wanted to lash into her for the derogatory remark, Chelsea’s murder needed to be avenged. Finding the killer was my top priority.

“The garment,” I repeated. “Can you smell it?”
With lips pinched, the head witch asked, “Why?”

I juggled with admitting the whole truth. The Werekind couldn’t always trust witches because of their dealings in black magic and spells. If I revealed my suspicions, would she share it with the Dark Fae?

“We’re doing an investigation into the attacks of humans and they… they killed some as well. I need to know who is responsible.”

The head witch blinked. “Hmmm. I see.” She rested her elbows on the bar top. The soft light overhead caught in her hair, causing the silver strands to look golden. “And what makes you think I would know the identity of whoever is responsible by sniffing this cloth? Aren’t werewolves the ones with a keen sense of smell?” She narrowed her eyes. “Although… you keep your wolf trapped within you.”

I fought to school my features as surprise passed through me like a windswept flame and I wondered how she knew I was a latent.

“Please, can you just sniff the cloth?” I proffered my torn garment to her. “Any bit of information would help.”

The head witch eyed the cloth for a long moment. My inner wolf whimpered, fearing she’d flat out refuse. Her hand snaked out, and she plucked the garment from my fingers. The witch brought it to her face and inhaled. My gaze locked on her features, searching for any hint of acknowledgement in her expression. Her lips pinched at the corners. My inner wolf went predatory still, spying a subtle movement.

She lowered the cloth to the counter and shrugged. “I smell sun-dappled earth, and rodents.” The witch slid the garment my way. “That is all.”

I gritted my teeth and sighed. “Can’t you identify any more than that?”

The corner of her lips curled into a slow smile. “Do you think I can smell more? If so, why don’t you enlighten me?”

She was toying with me and I fought to keep my fangs from coming out. “Thank you for your time.”

She smiled. “Anytime, child… anytime.”

I pushed back from the counter as she barked at the other witches to get back to work. A sick knot formed in my stomach. After biting my lip in thought, I headed for the bathroom. A quick freshening up would do me good before going outside and facing Ryker. An alpha had to maintain a sense of control at all times, especially with a dominant male of his caliber. Tears had no place in this situation.

⸻

In the bathroom, I made my way to the sink. The four stalls outfitting the restroom seemed vacant, and the doors were ajar. The dim lights atop the four oval mirrors dropped shifting shadows on the blood-red tinted walls and cast my dark brown hair to onyx. I paused a step, shaking off my unease, and splashed water on my face and grabbed a paper towel to wipe away the droplets. As I gazed at my reflection, the absence of tears in my eyes comforted me.

The door swept open behind me. My senses heightened, my inner instincts on high alert, as I realized I was alone in a public bathroom.

High heels clacked as a figure stepped toward the far sink. I kept staring at my reflection, but my body was aware of the female that entered.

“Give me the cloth,” a faint voice called over the running water.

As I spun to face the woman, my mouth parted on a silent gasp. The petite young woman had grown pale when I entered earlier. Suspicion gnawed inside my chest, but I remained still, assessing her.

The woman ran her hands under the water, peering into her mirror. “Do you want me to identify the scent or not?”

I pursed my lips. “Why would you help me? Why go against the head witch?”

“I figured…” She turned off the tap, grabbed a paper towel and faced me, resting a slender hip against the ceramic sink. “Maybe it’s time my heart wasn’t so black. Perhaps I can start changing for the better… by helping you.”

“How could you help me?”

The young witch shot a furtive glance at the bathroom door. Her voice dropped to an indistinct murmur. “By giving you a lead in your investigation. How old was your pack mate?”

“She was eight years old.” The words felt like sandpaper creeping up my throat.

“Damn,” the woman whispered, shaking her head with a frown, tugging at her lips. “Poor little thing. She had yet to live her life.”

All I could do was nod. My throat seemed to close off as the sting of tears threatened again.

The woman extended a hand. I cocked my head. She rolled her eyes and beckoned me with her fingers.

“Let’s get your pack mate justice, shall we?” The witch lifted her brows.

Hope tingled in my gut as I held out my hand to the young witch holding my torn garment. She took the offering and breathed in the scents wafting from the cloth. Her eyes snapped open wide, a breathy gasp slipping from her lips.

“What? What is it?” I asked.

She handed me back the cloth with trembling fingers and swallowed hard. “I—I mean, I can’t believe—”

“Can’t believe what? Please tell me.”

Her gaze lingered on the cloth for a moment before finding mine. “Dark Fae. The scent on the cloth is the essence of Dark Fae.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Oh, God. I’ve had my suspicions but…”

I swallowed past the dry lump in my throat. “But what?”

“I’m going to tell you something about the Dark Fae, but you did not hear this from me,” she whispered.

I gave her a shaky nod. “I won’t say a word to anyone other than Ryker.”

With narrowed eyes, the witch scrutinized me, as if assessing my trustworthiness. Finally, she said, “The Fae Realm is in danger. I have only heard of its devastation, from the witches in higher positions than I, but I know for a fact the Fae Realm is dying. It is a barren wasteland; there are pockets of life—cities that thrive. But most of their realm is dying.”

I blinked. “But why? Aren’t the fae powerful? Don’t they have enough power to wield natural elements and sustain their realm and life on it? Or are the stories about the fae I’d heard as a pup false?”

A bump along the outer wall of the restroom resounded, and I flinched. The witch whipped her head to the door; her gaze sharpening. Yet, no one entered the bathroom. Raucous laughter soon followed. I loosened a breath as I realized it was probably some drunk that had lost his balance and slumped against the wall beyond the door.

The young witch offered me a tremulous smile.
“What is your name?” I asked.

After a hesitant pause, she said, “Sandral.”

I nodded. “Okay, Sandral, why is the Fae Realm dying?”

She licked her lips, darting her eyes at the door. “Because, though the fae are all powerful, their energy thrives most from human beliefs.”

I cocked my head to the side, perplexed.

Upon seeing my confusion, she proceeded to explain, “Fae and humans are closely tied. Millennium upon millennium ago, they shared the same ancestors, but the lines branched off somewhere down the genetic pathways.” She sighed. “Humans adored both Light Fae and Dark Fae, but now the Light Fae are gone and—”

“What happened to them?”

She frowned. “The Dark Fae’s conquest of power wiped them out. Some say they still live hidden within the mountains… look, I don’t have time to explain.” She huffed. “The Fae Realm relies on human awareness to exist and thrives on the adoration and worship of the humans. Now that those are no longer factors taking place—”

“The fae are losing their home.” A ragged sigh escaped my lips. “That could be the reason the Dark Fae are manipulating the werebears. As vengeance for losing the adoration of humans, they’re killing them.” I heaved a breath. “But that still makes little sense. If they kill the humans, what does that accomplish? They’d still have no humans to restore their home.”

“Maybe they want a new home,” the witch said.