Page 9 of Pack Nightmare

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for? I might be of assistance.”

“That would be helpful, thank you. I just didn’t want to disturb you at this hour.”

“It’s not a problem, Layla,” he answers gruffly. “Any time of the day or night, we are here to serve you.”

I gaze down at him apprehensively from the mezzanine. I’m not sure I can see myself pounding on his door well after bedtime for information. It’s still nice of him to offer.

Finally descending the ground floor ladder, I can look at him directly. “I would appreciate your help. There is a new arrival in town, and the apparent story is that he’s distantly related to the pack seer, and somehow Uncle Dom and Maria, the witch that helped with my recovery in LA, figured this out and invited him here to teach English Lit of all things. So I just thought I’d try to get a better understanding of the seer’s role in the pack, where they came from, and how this all factors together.”

Without answering, Mr. Carson gestures for the book in my hands, and I hold it out for him. He glances at it briefly, then returns it. “Lilliana Harridan the seventh, age 16, year 1902. This, while interesting, is mostly her ruminating about her fated and if she thinks they’re ‘cute’. It won’t be of much use for answering your questions.”

A hot flush creeps up my cheeks. I hadn’t been able to decipher the ornate writing. I just saw the dates and thought there might be something of interest. “Okay, can you make a recommendation of which books might help?”

Mr. Carson clears his throat. “I think the best thing to do would be to retrieve a tea service from the kitchens. I’ll return momentarily.”

“I don’t understand. Why do I need tea to find a book?”

“I believe I can answer most of your questions, but my throat is rather dry. If we’re going to sit and have a chat, I think tea, and perhaps some cookies, would be nice.”

Mr. Carson lights a fire in the library first, then leaves and returns twenty minutes later with a tray of tea, small sandwiches, and cookies for two.

Now that I’ve been here a while, I know better than to interrupt his process as he pours and serves the tea with precision. He assures me it’s caffeine-free before handing me the cup and saucer.

I’m practically quivering with impatience but there is no rushing the older gentleman, so I accept my tea and nibble a spiced cookie while he fixes his cup. After helping himself to a sandwich and a sip, he finally begins.

“In order to explain how we got here, I think you ought to know how all of this came to be. How much do you know about the origins of the pack?”

I think back on what the guys and Roxanne told me. “Just that the original shifters traveled here from the Old World, and witches helped them find the same earth magic that protected them there. They used the alpha’s blood at the time to create a safe place and that is how the Harridan line got tied in to being the eternal alphas. Oh, and that there was a curse, when some of the pack split off. That’s why we’re all stuck here.”

“Yes, that’s the basics, but it’s far more nuanced, I’m afraid. As these things are.” Mr. Carson takes a long sip of his tea, and I bite back the leading questions I want to throw at him.

“The Old World was filled with magic. It sustained our ancestors wherever they went, connected to every rock and tree and living thing. The shifters lived as one with nature, and it supported and protected them.

As people stepped away from nature, magic began to seep out of our world. Large villages became towns, and the more unnatural things that grew, the less magic there was to go around. Almost as if the earth were withdrawing her gift from those who were unworthy. Towns turned into cities, and shifters fled to the furthest reaches of the wilderness to stay in contact with the magic.

When there was no longer a reprieve, when magic seemed to disappear everywhere, a particularly gifted witch had a proposal: she believed she could form a connection with the earth magic, forging a sacred place that would be protected from this withdrawal of magic. The packs were willing to try anything, so they hired her to cast her spell.

And it worked. Enclaves of magic started popping up across the Old World, and packs brought on witches as permanent members of the pack. Understand, at this point, we were all in it together; there was no animosity between packs. It was all shifters set on the preservation of our kind. So we all shared this knowledge. The witches worked together, helping to connect with the magic. But it became more and more difficult to maintain, and every time a witch passed, her spell faded—we had to have a new witch on hand to cast a new spell, and each time it was a little weaker than before.

Once the New World was discovered, the packs believed this was the solution they’d prayed for. Several packs remained in the Old World, afraid to risk everything they clung to on a chance there may be something better. But many opted for the risk.

It was hard going, and they suffered on the journey. There was no chance of shifting on the crowded boats, and no earth magic to connect to. At that time, the consequences weren’t as dire… well, I’m getting ahead of myself.

The settlers landed and immediately set out to find the sort of sanctuary they craved. And the New World was rich with magic—they were ecstatic to set foot on the earth and feel it all around them. Mind you, these people had only known protected areas of magic, not the wild and rampant magic that lived in untamed worlds.

So they took it upon themselves to become explorers, and search for the most magical places. The witches developed stronger spells, and they had a plan: Find the places where the magic was most powerful, and preserve it immediately, before industry started the inevitable leeching of magic.

The witches were vested in the process as well; their magic was most powerful when tapped into earth magic. They could make some potions, work some small amount of magic without it. But it was more like parlor tricks than the sort of magic they could do, given the right circumstances.

As teams, the witches and the packs started on the east coast of the new world and pushed ever deeper into the wilderness. Packs might establish a sanctuary, but when it became overrun with normal humans, they moved on.

Eventually, that led further and further west, and that is how we became the Smoky Falls Pack. This place was the most powerful our witch Anthea had ever experienced. And the location was ideal. Remote in the mountains, with no way for the sort of overgrowth to happen as they’d seen in Massachusetts and New York. And Anthea had a plan to ensure it stayed that way, so the pack would never have to move on again.

She worked a spell that not only tapped into the earth magic, and her own ability to channel it—this time, she included the natural magic of the wolves by using the most powerful: the alpha’s blood.

Blood magic was frowned upon, you understand. There were plenty of tales about rogue witches using blood to cast curses on former lovers or rivals. Blood magic was dark and dangerous. However, our alpha was willing to do whatever it took to find our pack a home, so she risked it all on the witch’s word.

And it worked. The Smoky Falls Pack has lived here ever since. The magic is powerful, never fading, so long as a Harridan alpha leads the pack.”

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