Page 43 of Fated Exile

Another sound catches my attention, and this time it's not a scream, or a cry of disgust. It's genuine fear. Along with a deep booming noise, and the rattle of stone against stone. The pack members gathered in front of us are backing up quickly, fear in their eyes. A woman points up towards the sky and moans.

My stomach is well and truly in my knees now. Turning slowly, I stare up behind me. And it's all I can do not to scream myself.

Eighteen

Delilah

One of the elder statues ismoving.Literally turning its head and shifting its arms. It's the statue of Sorcha, the first mother of the pack. Her babe shifts in her arms and her eyes glow pink. Stone grinds against stone, slow as sin, as I watch with growing horror.

The statues on either side are moving too. Logan, the first hunter, slides his kill across his shoulders. Rae, the first slayer, lifts the vampire head in his hand. One by one around the circle they begin to move, their eyes glowing, heads shifting.

They're all looking at me.

"It's going to be okay," Roarke says, even though there’s no proof that it will be. His hand tightens on my arm, and I gladly lean into him. "I'm pretty sure that whatever you just did with the flame and the runic tattoo activated them. That, or they're about to fall on our heads because the Mating Circle is cracking open."

"Not funny."

"I really wasn't joking."

He wasn't, I realize. That's for Finn, who jogs over to us and lightly quips, "Anyone have this on their bingo card?"

I let my magic drop down into my hands, fingers tingling, ready to face the next surprise attack. As I do so, I motion for Bastian to join us. He gives me a hesitant smile.

Lance and Kieran run over to us too, both shifting into their wolf forms. Lance positions his great, shaggy white wolf between me and the statues, a rumble starting in his chest. Meanwhile, Kieran chooses to position himself between me and the rest of the pack, his reddish hair glowing in the late afternoon light.

His fear of the pack's reaction gives me inspiration. Pulling away from Roarke, I reach out towards the pack with my awareness, feeling the edges of their emotions. When I touch up against the pack members, I don't find any suspicion or hatred among them. Instead they're just wary, afraid, and uncertain—then, suddenly, full of awe.

Because it's not just the statues that are looking at me, I realize. Blinking around at the circle, I can see the faint spirits of each of the elders standing beneath their statues. Lanya, Gregor, Ewan, Sorcha, Tyee, Katrina, Logan, Peony, Callum, Rae... and Vivia, her form still strong and upright despite her tango with the dark presence the other night. Relief fills me at the sight of her alive and well—or as alive as any spirit can be without flesh.

All around us, the elder statues settle into still positions. While none of their poses are the same, they all have one thing in common: every one of them is looking at me with oddly glowing eyes. Their bodies are all angled in my direction, their chins tilted down, their faces pointed in my direction.

Standing at the foot of the statues, the spirits mimic the same body language. Though they speak no words and make no movements, and the afternoon sun shines through their soft forms, their intentions are clear. They're giving me their stamp of approval.

Bit by bit, the pack members here in the circle with us observe this as well. I feel it radiate in them through my awareness of their thoughts and emotions. They stare at me with wide eyes and speak in low, hushed tones of awe.

Roarke murmurs, "K, I think you can back off. Delilah doesn't need to be protected."

Swishing his tail, Kieran relaxes from his crouch. He paces back to curl up near my feet, and I sink my hand into his thick, luscious red-black fur. Looking out into the crowd of pack members, I'm struck by how few of them there are, but how strong their spirits remain. Whether it's the death they've faced or the curse that's taken so many, they've somehow survived despite it all.

"There's no denying it." Michael Sea, the older man who spoke the last time I lit the flame, steps forward. His curly hair is full of salt with just a little pepper left behind, and his light brown skin is warm in the bright sun. "Just as I said before, Delilah Glass has the elders' approval. What they're making all the more clear now is that we must accept her as one of our leaders if we're to lift this curse and move forward. In order to be a strong, healthy pack, we need to change things."

Another voice calls out, "Two alphas is better than one, I suppose." It's the warrior Marcus Flint, who's tall, sharp-eyed, and pale in his human form. "Delilah is a strong and capable woman. She'll make an excellent co-alpha and mate to Roarke. The elders arriving is a strong portent of what's to come if we accept her as our leader."

Surprise ripples through me. I didn't think any of the warriors approved of me very much. Last night I felt nothing but wariness and hostility from them when we went hunting after the vampires. But the others step forward one by one: Barry, young Ian, and Wally. Niall is among them, along with an older female werewolf named Tanya, and a few faces I remember from childhood.

"What will it mean, having two alphas?"

I don't see the source of the voice or recognize it, but I call back, "It just means that Roarke and I will take charge in different areas, and negotiate what's best for the pack."

Ian quips, "What if you don't agree?"

Sliding my eyes over to Roarke, I smirk a little. "Then my opinion wins."

A chuckle goes up around us, and I feel it suddenly: acceptance. Though there's still curiosity, trepidation, and a bit of hesitation in the pack, the hostility and anger is gone. They're going to accept me, not just as one of them, or a mate to their alpha, but as a leader.

Even though I'm different.

Even though I was rejected.

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