Page 85 of Wulf's Pack
I grab both Skylar’s toothbrush and her hairbrush. “Good. She’ll probably sleep for a long time. If you want to head downstairs, you can.”
Sophia combs her fingers through Audrey’s hair. “I’ll stay with her a little longer. Make sure she’s not going to have any nightmares.”
I give her a nod, touched by her compassion for her packmate. Then I’m out the door and practically running back to Abby. Abby takes the hairbrush and sits on the floor in the middle of the living room. My pulse picks up speed. I have no idea what to expect. I’ve never seen anyone scry before. “What else do you need?” I ask.
“Just peace and quiet,” Abby says. There’s a surprisingly serene quality to her now that reminds me a lot of Enzo. It makes her seem much, much older than her nine years.
Dennis sits on the couch, eyes glued to his daughter, but he doesn’t look worried at all. “It takes deep concentration,” he explains. “She falls into a sort of trance. If she’s distracted, she’ll be pulled out of it, and she’ll lose the vision. If that happens, she’ll be too exhausted to try again for hours. It takes a lot out of her. That will lessen the older, stronger, and more practiced she gets, but for now, she’ll really only have one chance to do this, and then she’ll have to wait probably a day before trying again.”
One chance? My anxiety spikes. We can’t screw this up. “How long does it take?”
Dennis’s brow furrows. “Hard to say. It varies. But usually, it’s about fifteen to twenty minutes.”
I cut a glance to Bree, who is the only one to have followed us up here. I don’t have to say what I’m thinking. “I’ll keep an eye on everything downstairs and make sure you aren’t disturbed.”
“If an emergency comes up, contact me through the pack link only.”
Bree tips her head in a nod. “Yes, sir.”
She heads downstairs, and I silence my phone while blasting out a quick message to the pack to not come upstairs for any reason. I join Dennis on the couch and force myself not to fidget. Restless anticipation courses through me. I hope. Despite my best efforts, I’m so full of hope I’m practically choking on it.
Dennis must sense my anxiety, because he murmurs, “She can do this, Alpha.”
I take a deep breath and force my body to calm. And then I wait.
Abby sits cross-legged, clutching the hairbrush. She closes her eyes and starts taking slow, deep breaths. Gradually, her posture relaxes. She seems to shed all tension as she falls deep into a meditative state.
She begins to murmur to herself, chanting whispered words of a spell. The room fills with the tingling of magic, making the hairs on my arms and neck stand up. I expect something to happen now. For her to finish the spell and suddenly have a location. It’s already been fifteen minutes. But that’s not what happens. When she finishes the spell, she simply repeats it. This process continues on for an agonizing half hour.
Each time she finishes her magical poem and starts it over again, my impatience grows. Worry creeps in. Will this not work? Is Victor hiding Skylar with magic? When we reach the hour mark, I start to lose hope. I tell myself over and over that Dennis said the timing can vary, but my desperation is starting to get the better of me.
Beads of sweat dot my brow. My muscles ache from being so tense for the past sixty minutes. My head is starting to throb.
“Rural,” Abby says suddenly. It’s the first time she’s broken from the chant of her spell.
Her eyelids lift slowly, and I suck in a breath. Her eyes are unfocused and fogged over with a milky-white sheen. I throwDennis a startled look, and he nods. He seems calm. This is apparently what’s supposed to happen.
“Trees,” Abby whispers. “Lots of trees. A lake. Small. Docks. A rowboat.”
As excited as I am that she’s got something, dread pools in my stomach. Trees and a lake don’t exactly narrow things down. Most of Michigan can be described as trees and water.
“A house,” Abby continues in her trancelike voice. Her brow crinkles. “Two houses? A barn?” She sounds unsure and frustrated. She frowns, but doesn’t shake her head or even close her eyes. It’s actually a little creepy. “Hidden,” she says. “Warded.”
My heart lurches. This isn’t going to work. We’re not going to find her.
“Town nearby.”
I hold my breath. That sounds more promising.
“River. Historic main street. Train tracks. Rail station.”
I resist the urge to pull out my phone and start Googling. There can’t be that many towns nearby with a river and a train station near a lake. And considering we know exactly when Skylar was taken, that should limit the search too. But then Abby says, “Courthouse. Lapeer County Courthouse.”
I gasp. That’s it. Lapeer. I’ve never been there, but it’s not that far from here. And even if she can’t get a specific location, how much property near Lapeer will be on the banks of a lake and warded by magic?
As if she knows she’s gotten what she needs, Abby blinks rapidly and shakes herself from her trance. The milky film clears from her eyes. She takes a moment to orient herself, then looks at her father and me. She frowns. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t see. It was hidden. I couldn’t focus.”
She looks like she wants to cry. Her father scoops her up and hugs her tight. She hugs him, then glances nervously my direction again. “You did great, Abby,” I promise her.
