Page 17 of His Spellbound Mate

“You know about it?” Tamzyn asked, her voice laced with urgency.

“Of course,” Cedric replied smoothly. “The prophecy has been a part of this town’s history since its founding. It speaks of a time when the Veil between our world and the realm of darkness would weaken, allowing ancient evils to seep through. And it also speaks of a witch and an alpha wolf-shifter who would stand against this darkness.”

“It didn’t occur to you to mention this to anyone?”

Cedric shrugged. “It is not the habit of vampires to interfere in the goings on of mortals.”

Tamping down his anger, Neville asked, “Do you know how to stop it?”

Cedric leaned back in his throne, his gaze turning contemplative. “The prophecy is vague, as such things often are. But it suggests that the witch and the alpha must work together, combining their powers to strengthen the Veil and banish the darkness.”

Tamzyn frowned. “And how do we do that?”

Cedric’s lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. “That is something you must discover on your own. The prophecy is a guide, not a map. But I will tell you this—the Veil is weakening faster than anticipated, and if you do not act soon, it will be too late.”

Neville felt a cold knot of fear settle in his stomach. “What about the disappearances?” he asked, his voice hard. “Are they connected to this darkness?”

Cedric nodded slowly. “Yes. The dark forces are already reaching through the Veil, claiming victims to further weaken the barrier. The more they take, the weaker the Veil becomes.”

Tamzyn’s eyes narrowed. “And you’ve just been sitting here, watching it happen?”

Cedric’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m no hero. I have my own interests to protect. But I will offer you this advice—look to the history of Silver Ridge. The answers you seek may lie in the past.”

Neville exchanged a glance with Tamzyn, his mind racing. Cedric was right about one thing—they needed more information, and the town’s history might hold the key to understanding the prophecy and the dark forces they were up against.

“Thank you for your help,” Neville said, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

Cedric inclined his head again, his expression inscrutable. “Good luck. I suspect you will need it.”

Neville and Tamzyn turned to leave, but as they reached the entrance to the chamber, Cedric’s voice stopped them in their tracks.

“One more thing,” the vampire said, his tone deceptively casual. “Be careful who you trust. The forces at play here are ancient, and they do not take kindly to interference.”

Neville’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t need to be told to be careful—he had already learned that lesson the hard way. With a final nod to Cedric, he led Tamzyn out of the chamber, the weight of the vampire’s warnings heavy on his shoulders.

The journey back down the mountain was tense, the silence between them thick with unspoken thoughts. Neville’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—frustration, anger, fear, and a growing sense of responsibility. The prophecy, the dark forces, the bond between him and Tamzyn—it was all so much to take in, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

As they neared the edge of the forest, Neville’s wolf senses prickled with unease. Something wasn’t right. The air was too still, too quiet, and there was a faint scent on the wind that made his hackles rise.

“Tamzyn,” he said quietly, his voice laced with warning. “We’re not alone.”

Tamzyn’s eyes widened as she sensed it, too. “Hunters.”

The word was barely out of her mouth before they were surrounded. Hunters, as they were collectively known, was a group of small-minded men who once they discovered that shifters, fae and witches with real magic existed had dedicated themselves to eradicating them. They were dangerous but fairly stupid and ineffectual as they had trouble identifying individuals who were actually members of the supernatural world. Figures emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by hoods and masks, but their weapons were unmistakable—silver-tipped arrows, swords, and other implements designed to kill werewolves and witches alike.

Neville’s muscles tensed, his wolf snarling within him. The hunters moved with precision, circling them, cutting off any chance of escape. Neville counted at least ten of them, all armed and ready for a fight.

“Lawless!” one of the hunters called out, his voice cold and authoritative. “We’ve been tracking you. And the witch. You’re both a threat to this town, and we’re here to put an end to it.”

Neville snarled, his eyes flashing with anger. “We’re not your enemies. There’s a darkness coming—something that will destroy us all if we don’t stop it.”

The hunter sneered, his grip tightening on his sword. “That’s what all monsters say. But we know what you are, and we know what needs to be done.”

“What is it you think you know?” Neville asked, his muscles coiling—ready to shift or ready to fight.

“There’s been strange goings on in the peninsula and on Kodiak Island for centuries. There have been those who have seen your kind for what they really are. Most of them have been too frightened to do anything, but we’re not afraid of you any longer.”

Neville looked as though he was ready to strike. Before he could act, Tamzyn stepped forward, her eyes glowing with a dangerous light.

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