Page 25 of Sigils & Spells

And the moment I lethimin, it’s like I’m watching my own life from outside of it–astral projection. I’m forced into a corner of my mind, watching, feeling … but I have no control over my body or what I’m doing. Ivan tackles Evie to the ground, hissing, snarling as his jaws close around her wrist. I pounce on him, knocking him off of her with ease. He shakes his large head, growling out a ferocious sound that is neither animal nor human. I don’t waste time as I jump, forcing my large paws on his furry chest.

Paws?

Nothing is making sense and feels like a damn fever dream. Ivan bites at my neck forcing me back on the ground, and I’m caught off guard. In a split second our places are reversed, with him pinning me down, his hot breath and sharp fangs inches from my neck, where I can feel my blood rushing like a volcano full of lava.

Evie cries out, and that's what does it.

I’m powerless to control my body as it snaps back into place, my bones cracking and popping until the fur retracts, and I shrink back to what I know.

I’m acutely aware as I stare up at a large, vicious wolf face that I’m naked, bleeding, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

“Angel!” Evie shouts as she runs. Ivan purrs with contentment as he steps off of me, stepping back to shift back to himself. As I watch the process, I’m both in awe and terrified at the reality of what’s just happened. To me, to us.

What this means…

Ivan stands there, naked and fully on display with that evil shit-eating grin of his as Evie pulls me into her arms, and Dr. Fitton finds the strength to stand.

“You have one week, Evie. Do make it count. Angel’s life may depend on it,” he says as he wipes his lips of blood. My eyes dip to Evie’s wrist, where she holds me, the red crimson blood making the animal in me pace with frustration.

We were too late. He hurt what is ours … and mark our words he will pay.

If it is the last thing I do.

EPILOGUE

REED OWENS

Surely this isn’tthe headquarters for WolfBane, Inc.

Once again, I check the address I noted in my phone, then compare it to the door in front of me. It’s a small space in a strip mall, bookended on either side by a hairdresser and a Chinese restaurant.

I would have expected Ivan Cambridge to have a better office than this. After all, he owns at least a third of the buildings in the city. Surely, he could come up with something more… professional.

But it’s a match to the address he gave me, so with a shrug, I tug open the glass door.

There’s no secretary inside, though there’s a desk in the front room piled high with folders and papers.

The whole place has an odd smell, strangely musty and almost animalistic.

“Reed Owens?” Cambridge himself pops his head out of a door.

“That’s me.”

“Come on back. Sorry about the mess—we’ve been working on a project that’s taken up nearly all my time.”

I follow him into an inner office, no neater than the one out front. He must have been really busy for it to have gotten this bad.

“So,” he says, taking a seat behind the desk and waving me to the single straight-backed chair in front of it, “you’re here to interview for the property manager position.”

“I am,” I say, keeping my voice calm and professional. The last thing I want to do is sound as desperate as I truly am.

This is my last chance to find a job in the city. If Cambridge doesn’t offer me a position, I’m going to have to sell my house and move somewhere cheaper.

And I don’t want to do that.

Until last year, I had a thriving commercial real estate business. Hell, I’d even sold buildings to WolfBane, though I haven’t met Cambridge himself until today. When the real estate market crashed, my sales dried up.

Now I’ve burned through most of my savings, I’ve sold off several properties of my own, and I’m down to being able to survive for only a few more months if I don’t find work soon.

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