Helping the Devils

Helping the Devils
Vicky

I tracked down the same girl who had served me breakfast that first morning. Her quiet efficiency was a familiar comfort in this strange place.
“I need a phone number,” I said, keeping my voice low. She nodded, slipping away to fetch what I needed. She returned with a new SIM card, and I thanked her, retreating to my room to swap it into the phone Dimitri had given me. My hands shook slightly as I dialed Dário’s number, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Veny paced in my mind, restless, urging me to act.

“Hey, just a minute,” Dário said when he picked up, his voice taut. I waited, clutching the phone, until he called back, the line crackling faintly.

“Where are you? We were all worried,” he demanded.

“I told you I was going to disappear for a few days,” I shot back, steadying myself. “Dário, I don’t know if you already know, but the queen of the witches…”

“She was murdered,” he interrupted, his words clipped. “That was the plan, Vicky. The idea of walking in the sun was a distraction.”

My stomach dropped, but I pressed on. “There’s something else. My source said it was the vampires. Oh, and they’re going to try to frame the Devils. Dário, please, get them out of here. Get James out, I beg you. I’ll do whatever you want.” My voice cracked, desperation seeping through. James—damn him—still mattered, his family, our pack, all of them caught in this mess because of me, because of Jean.

“First, I can’t interfere in what’s already started,” Dário said, his tone measured but heavy. “I can’t talk to them directly. But knowing this, politically, helps me act. I’m going to talk to the ambassadors and some allies. We don’t have a reason for the queen’s death yet.”

“Hmm… well…” I hesitated.

“What, V?” he pressed, sensing my unease.

“My biological father is now the king…”

“Shit,” he breathed. “You’re a princess now, but you’re a wolf.”

“Can that be considered a reason?” I asked, my mind racing.

“Maybe,” Dário said thoughtfully. “I need to think…”

“I have a contact in the wizarding world,” I blurted, the plan forming as I spoke.

“You know this is dangerous,” he warned, his voice sharpening.

“I’m going to do it anyway,” I replied, resolve hardening in me. “I don’t know much, but she’s a Wiccan. She’s the only witch I know. Her name’s Sage—she’s the mate of a wolf in my pack. She was arriving when I left. I trust her.”

“Okay,” he relented after a pause. “I’ll talk to the alpha here. He’ll take care of it.”

“Where can I find them?” I asked, gripping the phone tighter. “A city, a state…”

“Go to the border with Hungary and connect with your wolf,” he instructed. “You should find him. And if you don’t, come back, Vicky. Please, he’d want you to be safe.”

We hung up, and I stared at the phone for a moment. The Romanian-Hungarian border was my destination, but I didn’t know the exact route. Acting like a tourist seemed safest—blend in, keep moving, use the daylight to my advantage and hide when night fell. I packed light, shoving the fake passport, phone, and a few essentials into a small bag. The car key from Dimitri gleamed in my hand and I headed out, determined to soak up the sunlight while I could. A quick Google search pointed me toward Satu Mare, a city near the border, and I set off.

Hours later, I pulled into a dusty bar on the outskirts of a small town, my stomach growling and my nerves frayed. The place was lively, a group of men and women drinking and laughing together. I watched them from the corner of my eye, a pang of longing hitting me hard. I missed that camaraderie, the easy joy of pack life, the nights with Toby and Pepe around a fire.
Shaking it off, I slipped into a lonely corner, hoping to go unnoticed, sipping a beer and nibbling on a plate of grilled meat. But being a woman alone in a bar, anywhere in the world, was a beacon.
If Toby were here…
I pulled out the phone and texted Pepe: I’m fine, don’t worry. It wasn’t fair to leave him in the dark, not after everything.

I paid the bill and stood, ready to slip out, when a man approached—stocky, red-faced, slurring some joke in Romanian I couldn’t catch. I switched to French, feigning confusion with a polite “Je ne comprends pas,” hoping he’d back off.
Then a tall, dark-haired man with black eyes loomed. He’d been with the group, unnoticed until now, and he said something sharp in Romanian. The other guy retreated, muttering, and I exhaled, nodding a quick thanks before hurrying out. I hid the car down a shortcut off the main road, its engine ticking as it cooled, and called for Veny.
“Hey, girl, come on. Don’t you want to run a little?” She whined in my mind. “I know, I know, you disapprove of what I did. It was necessary, I’m sorry.”

I shed my clothes, stashing them in the car, and let the transformation take me. Bones shifting, fur sprouting, the world sharpening as I became wolf. I needed this, the freedom of it, the unity with nature.
I bolted through the forest, paws pounding the earth, then dove into a river, the cold water a shock that woke every sense. Shaking off the wet, I ran to warm myself, finding a tree with branches drooping low to the ground. I curled up there, still in wolf form, and slept, the rhythm of the wild lulling me under.

The second day broke early, the sky a pale gray. I hunted a rabbit, then shifted back, only realizing too late I was naked. Cursing my oversight, I built a small fire, roasting the meat over the flames, the scent grounding me. I shifted again, returning to wolf form to fetch my clothes from the car, but as I neared, my heart sank. That group from the bar was there, camping near my hiding spot, their tents scattered like colorful mushrooms.
Shit! They were still sleeping, sprawled in the dawn light, and I crept closer, weighing my odds of grabbing my bag unnoticed.

Then a hand brushed my fur and I froze.
Damn it! I whipped around, growling low, my hackles rising as I faced him—the dark-haired man from the bar.
“Shhhh… calm down, wolf,” he said, his voice soothing, a faint accent curling the words. “We can be friends.”
Goddess, who was he? Gypsy, wanderer, something else? He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, meeting my glare with a steady gaze. My instincts screamed. I snarled once more, then bolted into the forest, hearing him rouse the others, their footsteps crunching as they packed up and moved on. Relief washed over me.

Phew! Now I could grab my suitcase and put on something and remember to carry a change of clothes in my mouth when I went running.
I changed inside the car, the chill seeping through the windows as I wriggled into my spare clothes. The dark-haired man and his group were heading toward Satu Mare, and I decided to follow, keeping my distance. It wasn’t far, and blending into their wake felt safer than wandering blind. By sunset, I pulled over at a roadside restaurant, the neon sign flickering in the dusk.
I ordered a quick meal but Veny was restless, pacing in my mind.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her silently, spoon halfway to my mouth.
I don’t know, she replied, her voice a low whine. I don’t feel the connection with Thunder, but I think our mate is close by.
Shit. Someone was near! It set my nerves on edge.

I caught my reflection in the restaurant’s window, wild hair, dirt-smudged cheeks, a mess. If it was James or anyone from the pack, I didn’t want them seeing me like this. I paid the bill, hurried to the car, and drove into Satu Mare, the city lights a welcome blur.
I checked into a modest hotel, the clerk barely glancing at my fake ID and hauled my bag to the room. The shower was a godsend, hot water sluicing away days of grime, and I stood under it far longer than necessary, letting it wash over me. Brushing my hair felt like reclaiming a piece of myself, the tangles giving way to smooth strands I hadn’t tended in days.
I added a touch of makeup and then dressed in black leather pants, a matching blouse, and boots—armor for whatever lay ahead.

My reflection stared back, unfamiliar. My hair felt wrong now, too soft for the woman I’d become. It was longer, which I liked, but I needed a change. I asked the girl at the front desk about a beauty salon, and she pointed me to one a block away. An hour later, I returned with my hair dyed jet black, a stark curtain framing my face. It suited me.

Stepping outside, I froze. The gypsies were there again, their laughter drifting from a nearby alley. That wasn’t normal, was it? Twice in two days, too close to be coincidence. I kept my head down, pretending not to notice, scanning for their leader, the dark-haired man with those unflinching eyes.
He wasn’t among them. Relief mingled with unease as I climbed the hotel stairs, but then it hit me—a scent, wild and familiar, unmistakably wolf. My heart raced, hammering against my ribs.
Veny, are you sure? I asked, and she growled softly, certain.

I pushed open the door to my room, and there they were.
Caspian standing by the window, his broad frame tense, and James sitting on my bed, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.