Page 67 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
Ever since I pulled that trembling angel from the fire, something shifted in me—like her light granted me a place among humans, even though I was born of shadow. I have saved her many times since, and she has saved me even more.
What I never considered was how I knew where to find her so easily that night. I had been out hunting and had just finished consuming a nice plump raccoon when I smelled the smoke. But there was an underlying cry for help that echoed through the night, drawing me to the specific underbrush where she had fallen. Now I know I must have felt the supernatural pull as shewas healing her ankle. In the frenzy of the moment, I did not connect the dots.
Ironic that the approval I felt when I set her down wasn’t a human response at all. Yet, that belief served me…and her…all of these years. I know now how important it was to know we each had someone handy to watch our backs.
But this time I don’t know how to have her back. Or if it’s already too late.
I return to the firehouse after four hours of scouring the woods for any scent of her. Nothing.
I even drove out to where the film crew was shooting certain I would uncover suspicious activity. I found nothing strange. Just a shoot near the bridge on the edge of town. Surprisingly, they were filming what looked to be an environmental documentary with interviews with the Lolo mayor and a local librarian. An actual shoot.
I feel the loss deeper than I would have imagined and on multiple levels. One, the very real loss of my healing friend. Piled onto that, the additional grief it is causing my mate, who has not shown her face in the firehouse since I left her this morning.
Now as I down my burger and fries, I feel the crash. I am motionless and empty, sitting in the middle of a tornado with activity circling me on all sides. The best I can physically do is to pick up bits and pieces as people walk through, but no one is saying what I need to hear.
Captain Greene is grilling the staff for any details that can help locate Tori. He looks better than he did the other day despite theheightened threat. He seems almost back to his old self, tracking down clues and weeding out suspects in the mundane world. It makes me wonder what happened when I wasn’t looking.
The local police wander through to report no sign of her vehicle.
The helicopter continues to report back every thirty minutes. Again, nothing.
Amidst all of the nothing, I try to find reason for hope, clenching my fists beneath the table as if that act alone might summon her scent on the wind or a trace of her laugh echoing down the hall. As they say, no news is good news. No bodies or fires have been reported…either in our county or those nearby. And none of us have found any remains.
For now, Tori’s disappearance is a complete and disturbing mystery.
And one that I fear will not have a happy ending.
Chapter twenty-one
Price of Power
SERA
An hour after Noah took off all hell on wheels, I find myself in the sacred clearing in the middle of the woods.
I have to do something to try to locate Tori.
I grab the kit I keep hidden in the lining of my duffel—sage, a small bowl, a black tourmaline shard, and a tin of salt. No incense. Nothing flashy. Just the basics.
The woods are silent except for the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the wind through the trees. I clear a spot on the earth, sit cross-legged, and start the ritual.
First, the grounding.
Salt in a circle. Breath in. Light the sage. Breath out.
I whisper the old words under my breath—not in Latin, not in any Earth language, but in something older, something passed down through my bloodline like a secret melody.
“Blood of earth, flame of bone. Balance what has been shaken. Anchor what drifts.”
The scent of sage curls around me, and slowly, the noise in my head quiets.
I focus on my heartbeat. Let it slow. Let it settle.
Recent events claw at the edge of my mind—Ember’s cryptic fury, the footage flickering with too much truth, and Noah’s eyes, dark with betrayal and devotion. He looked at me like I was a stranger—and yet I know he’d walk into the flames for me.
My throat tightens. My eyes sting.
I keep breathing through it.
