Chapter Twenty-One
“They wanted the women?” Tor said. He stood by the hearth, whiskey glass in hand. “They fucking planned this.”
We were back at the cabin, cloistered in the lounge with whiskey to calm our post-fight nerves. Wren sat in the window seat, cookie in hand, eyes wide as he fed off the tension in the room. Sloane had shown up a few minutes ago after Leif called her. What Jasper had done, breaking the varga’s null effect, was a big deal, and the witches needed to know.
There was no sign of Jasper, though, but I could see Sloane’s gaze flitting about the room, searching for signs of my malevolent savior. Although calling him that felt wrong now.
He’d shifted me out of harm’s way with barely enough power to hold his form, and he’d been pulled away to goodness knew where. It hit me that I’d never cared to ask. Never cared to know or understand. It had been easier that way, but now…
“Did you see them fucking bolt?” Leif said softly.
Yeah, the varga had made a break for it when Heather and the rest of the female shifters arrived. They’d been severely outnumbered. Leif, Tor, and Rune had given chase, but the fuckers had gotten to their rift before my guys could capture one for questioning. Going after them wasn’t an option. In fact, it was expressly forbidden by some ancient law passed down for centuries.
The women were back at their pack houses and the guys had set up patrols around the perimeter of each. Sten and Toke were busy setting traps.
“You need to tell me what we’re dealing with.” I was done with them being cagey. “You’re my mates, and you said yourself that the packs were my home too. You need to tell me what these varga are and why they keep coming into our world.”
It was Leif who answered. “No one knows for sure. But our packs are bound to this land, to monitoring the rifts and keeping the varga from taking human life. It’s the way it’s always been.”
I needed more than that. “But what are they?”
“Monsters, predators from another world. History says that they were once a scourge on this land. As descendants of Fenrir, the dire wolves were charged with keeping the land and its inhabitants safe. It’s a sacred duty passed down for generations.”
Okay, that made more sense. “And they’ve never tried to take shifters before?”
No, Rune said. They hunt, they kill, and then infect. Until now.
“Protecting the pack females is now our priority,” Tor said. “We increase patrols around the pack houses. If they want our women they’ll attack again, and we need to be ready.”
“You think they’ll attack the pack houses?” Leif looked skeptical.
The run-around, the extra rifts, they were all a ploy to exhaust us and throw us off, Rune said. Their goal was always the hunt and our women. We focus patrols at home.
My heart sank as it became obvious what needed to happen. “You guys need to be at the pack houses. Not here.”
All three turned to look at me. “No,” Tor said. “You’re our mate and the anchor. We have to keep you safe.”
“So do we,” Sloane said. “She’ll be safe at the mansion.”
“Really?” Tor’s lip curled. “Like she was last time?”
Sloane’s expression hardened. “Seriously, Tor?”
Tor exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. Gone was the cool, collected dominant male who liked to play with my pulse. This was Tor in crisis mode.
“Cora is right,” Leif said. “We need to be at the pack houses. Even if it’s for a couple of days. The packs are spooked. They need their alphas. Cora will be safe with the witches.”
I nodded even as a pit opened up in my stomach, because fuck, I was going to miss being around them.
Rune padded over and nuzzled my hand. We’ll be back before you know it.
“Someone pass me a bucket,” Jasper said from his perch on the window seat.
Wren squealed and leaped away from him, doing some strange ninja move he must have picked up from some TV show.
Jasper didn’t even flinch, but then he was in gray mode, all see-through, pale, and sulky.
Sloane sat forward in her seat, eyes bright with excitement. “How did you do it? How the fuck did you break the nullifying effect? No witch has been able to do it.”
The words bubbled out of her mouth as if she’d been holding back the questions all this time, which she probably had.
Jasper smirked. “I’m no witch.”
She shook her head with a frown. “This is serious, Jasper. This is a game changer.”
“You siphoned from me, didn’t you?” I stared at him, my hand going up to touch the amulet. “How?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t panic. I siphoned all the residual power that wreaths you. Ever since the binding you’re like a radiator of power.”
“But our power can’t break a null effect,” Sloane pointed out.
She was right. “I couldn’t use my power until you broke the null.”
“I didn’t use your power to break the null, I used it to fuel myself and make a bridge to my power.”
Sloane studied Jasper through narrow eyes. “And what is that power, Jasper? Because as far as I’m aware, there are only three sources—chaos, cosmos, and the unnamed, and miasma, which is generated by humans.”
“And a few centuries ago, as far as humans were aware, the earth was flat,” Jasper drawled.
He was dodging the question. “What power did you use?”
His lip curled. “Mine. I used mine, and that’s all you need to know.”
Realization clicked. He was getting defensive because he didn’t know. “You don’t know how you do what you do.”
His jaw ticked and darkness filled his eyes.
“Jasper…” A protective urge swept over me. The need to hug him, comfort him. What the fuck? I tucked in my chin. “Jasper, answer me.”
“He doesn’t know,” Tor said softly. “He doesn’t remember his past.”
Oh, Jasper…
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snarled. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”
“I wasn’t—”
He vanished.
