Page 35 of Wolf of the Storm
Jax's expression hardens. "Why?"
"Because this is an investigation." I look up. "Someone is systematically murdering people to perform a ritual. That means there's a pattern. Patterns can be tracked, analyzed, predicted. If we know who the targets are, we can protect them. And if we know who benefits from this summoning, we can identify the summoner."
Declan's pride warms the bond between us, though his worry doesn't fade.
Finn, however, smiles—a strange, knowing expression that suggests he's seeing something the others aren't. "The watcher'sgift runs true in you. Very well. The seven families: MacLeod, Murray, Gordon, Sinclair, Campbell, Morrison, and Ross."
I write them down, my fingers flying across the screen. "And the three victims?"
"Duncan Ross, fisherman. Found dead on the rocks near the western cove six months ago." Declan points to the first red pin. "Official cause of death: fell during a storm. But the tides were wrong, the injuries inconsistent with a fall."
"Emma MacLeod." Tessa crosses her arms. "Schoolteacher. Drowned at the tidal pools by Selkie’s Cove four months ago. They said she went for an early morning swim and got caught in the current."
"And Maureen Gordon." Declan's hand finds mine again. "Your aunt. Three months ago. Heart attack on the cliffs, they said. But we know better."
I stare at the names, at the timeline. My throat tightens. "Three deaths in six months. If the pattern holds, we're due for another one soon."
"That's what we're afraid of." Jax's jaw clenches. "Which is why we need to identify the remaining four bloodline carriers and protect them."
"Or find the summoner and stop them before they can kill again," I counter. I look at Finn. "You said your grandfather locked something away from the world. What exactly are we dealing with? What's trying to break free?"
Finn's expression goes dark. Haunted. When he speaks, his voice carries the weight of ancient grief. "A Fomori."
The word hangs in the air like smoke. "I'm sorry—a what?"
"A chaos entity from before the world settled into its current form." Finn turns from the window, and those aquamarine eyes seem to hold centuries. "My grandfather called it An Dubh-Chridhe—the Black Heart."
A chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of Declan's presence beside me. "And it does what, exactly?"
"It feeds on discord, violence, suffering." Finn's voice drops. "During the last war, it nearly broke through."
"What happened?" I wrap my arms around myself. The temperature in the room seems to have dropped ten degrees.
"Entire villages disappeared. Ships sank in calm waters." He pauses, and the silence stretches. "People turned on each other, driven mad by its influence."
My pen stills on the phone screen. "How... how did your grandfather stop it?"
"Seven elders, seven bloodlines, seven sacrifices." The sorrow in his voice is palpable. "They bound it with their deaths, locking it in the deep places where even shifters fear to go. The ritual was supposed to hold for at least two centuries, possibly longer."
"But someone's trying to break it early." Declan's voice is grim. "And if they succeed, if this thing gets free..."
"It won't just destroy Stormhaven," Finn finishes. "The island sits at a nexus point. Multiple ley lines converge here. If the Fomori uses this location as its anchor point, it can spread. Mainland Scotland first. Then Europe. Eventually..." He doesn't need to finish.
"The modern world," I whisper, understanding dawning. "Billions of people. Technology. Weapons. All the tools of discord and violence."
"Exactly." Finn nods slowly. "The Fomori would feast on human conflict like never before. Wars would erupt. Societies would collapse. And we'd be powerless to stop it once it reached critical mass."
The scope of it steals my breath. I look down at my notes, at the seven family names, at the three red pins marking three murders. Somewhere on this island, someone is working tounleash an ancient evil. And four more people are going to die unless we stop them.
"There's something else." I study the pattern, turning the phone so they can see my notes. "Each victim—did they have any connection to the original ritual beyond their bloodline? Were they magical? Powerful?"
The shifters exchange glances. "We hadn't considered that angle." Tessa straightens, paying closer attention now.
"You're thinking like warriors, not investigators." I pull out my phone browser. "My aunt—she was a watcher. She had knowledge, power of a sort. What about the others?"
Jax shifts his weight. "Duncan Ross was a fisherman. But his grandmother was known as a healer. Hedge magic, minor abilities."
"Emma MacLeod's family has sight," Finn adds. "Not strong, but present. She reportedly had prophetic dreams."
