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Chapter Text

Although Lissa had experienced plenty of strange things in her 41 years, her trip to Fort Tejon State Historic Park at the southern edge of California’s Central Valley was already in the top five. 

She almost wished her husband Adam had been able to join her, Jack, and Elsa, but was glad that work had kept him home in Los Angeles. He’d led a normal, if privileged, life until they’d met at Berkeley. Adam had fallen for her hard their freshman year. Despite Lissa’s best efforts to keep anyone interested in a romantic relationship at arm’s length, the tall, freckled blond had gradually and respectfully gotten past her defenses. How he hadn’t run screaming after she’d told him about her bizarre, cursed family she’d never understand. Jack told her it was love—of course he’d say that, the big sap—but Lissa credited much of it to how she’d carefully dolled out the information over months in bite-sized bits. 

Although she’d managed to escape the werewolf curse shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Lissa still had one foot in the mundane world and the other in the one with lycanthropes, sorcerers, and vampires. She figured it was best for her and Adam to go their separate ways as soon as he realized that being with her was too weird and dangerous to bear. 

He’d asked Lissa to marry him anyway. 

Twenty years later Lissa found herself sitting around a campfire under the gibbous moon in the rugged, arid hills south of Fort Tejon with her werewolf brother, the gorgeous monster hunter who was her new sister-in-law, and their sorcerer friend James, who’d traveled by portal from Brooklyn. Lissa strummed her late mother’s acoustic guitar, which was the reason they’d come all this way. Someone—presumably her mother—had painted the triangular symbol of the enigmatic group pursuing Jack and Elsa on the guitar’s maple body years ago. Apparently the closest energy vortex to Los Angeles was at this nineteenth-century fort, and Jack and his wolf might be able to use the vortex’s energy to learn more about “the Order.”

Even weirder than the fact that her brother could do anything with magical energy, the new ability had something to do with his wolf who he apparently was now buddies with and had named Snow.

What the actual fuck.

Elsa and James were down with all of this somehow, so Lissa kept her misgivings to herself and observed. If “Snow” were more than a mindless killing machine, great!

James, who wore navy and maroon sorcerer garb similar to that of Doctor Strange she’d seen in photos and videos of the older man, looked up from his phone. The gregarious young Black man had been quietly studying what looked to Lissa to be a mostly blank screen. Lissa presumed something was there, but obscured by magic to her eyes. “You’re pretty good,” James grinned, nodding at the guitar. 

Lissa smiled back. “Thanks. Jack blows me out of the water, though.” She glanced at her brother, who lounged against the buff-colored rock wall of the ravine they’d gathered in to wait for the park to close and activity in the adjoining campground to settle down for the night. Elsa, who wore a motorcycle jacket and overpants as did Jack, sat between his legs and leaned against him with her back to his chest. They were ridiculously touchy-feely, but so obviously happy and in love that Lissa didn’t tease Jack about it. She was happy to see him happy, and there were plenty of other things to tease him about.

“You are correct, hermana,” Jack grinned, not bothering to open his eyes. Elsa had all but ordered him to sit down and rest; their earlier tour of the former military outpost had rattled Jack and supposedly Snow as well. Jack hadn’t elaborated on why other than saying the “atmósfera”—his term for the melange of memories and energy from the Astral Plane that he and the wolf sensed—was strong. 

When he’d gone for a run before they’d had dinner at their campsite, Lissa and Elsa had exchanged theories about Jack’s uncharacteristic reticence. The women had independently read up on Fort Tejon before leaving L.A. that morning. Like much of the American frontier, the area near Tejon Pass had a bloody and violent history. According to some sources online, hundreds of Native Americans who’d given up their lands had been relocated to the fort or the shores of nearby Castac Lake and suffered horribly. Decades earlier a grizzly bear with an X marking across its shoulders had killed French fur trapper Peter Lebeck. Lebeck’s companions had buried him under one of the already old valley oaks and carved his epitaph into the bark. A much newer stone monument marked the site on the north side of the parade ground. Supposedly Lebeck and the bear haunted the area.

After tapping at his phone a few times, James remarked, “Since that’s your mother’s guitar, music must run in the family.”

“Mamá’s side, yes,” Lissa confirmed, ignoring the discomfort the topic of her family prompted. Although she’d only met James an hour earlier, he seemed to be genuinely kind and curious. Jack and Elsa trusted the young man, so that said a lot about his character. After everything Lissa, Jack, and their parents and stepfather had endured due to magic, they avoided it like the plague. Apparently that had started changing for Jack about a year ago, which Lissa found disconcerting.

Turning her eyes to the guitar, Lissa continued, “Papá’s side is… complicated. Like soap opera complicated. No musicians that I know of, though.” She starting running through scales to focus on something other than that mess and how it was just her and Jack now.

“Gotcha.” James’s quiet tone conveyed sympathy, and she was grateful. They sat quietly as the crackling campfire accompanied Lissa’s playing. 

After a few minutes passed, Elsa said, “What are you doing, James? There’s no signal out here.”

Lissa glanced at the young sorcerer in time to see him grin. “There isn’t, but the spellbook app has lots of stuff cached.” He turned back to his phone and swiped a few times with his index finger. “I’m looking for—ah!”

“Hmm?” Jack prompted. Lissa stopped playing and turned to the young man as well.

James said a few words that sounded vaguely Hindi to Lissa’s ears, then “That roughly means ‘partake.’”

Lissa frowned at him. “Partake in what?”

The sorcerer grinned like the Cheshire cat. “In whatever the recipient of the spell experiences. I’m pretty sure I can adjust it to, in this case, allow us to see whatever Jack and Snow see when they focus on the Order’s symbol later.” Elsa and Jack gaped as Lissa looked at James askance. He hastily added, “If everyone’s cool with it, of course.”

“I’m not,” Lissa stated, shaking her head.

James shrugged. “Okay. I’m not going to shove magic on anyone.” Then he turned to Jack and Elsa and looked a question at them.

Elsa’s pursed lips suggested wary curiosity. Lissa was glad to see the woman’s wariness, because Jack had tilted his head and was starting to smile. 

Was he crazy, considering participating in what seemed to be an experimental spell? Lissa sighed; of course Jack was now that he was more accepting of magic, and the spellcaster was his friend. Although her brother was less of an idiot these days, he still was too curious for his own good like their father had been, at least according to their stepfather.

“Since the vortex is so strong, Snow and I will probably experience some of Mamá’s memories,” Jack said, catching Lissa’s eye. “We might see Papá.” A bittersweet hope colored his words. 

The prospect of seeing their father in more than a photograph made Lissa’s breath catch. She’d only been two when he’d died and had no memory of him. Jack had a few, which he’d described to her years ago.

Elsa, who’d been dividing her attention between her mate and Lissa, turned to James. “Could you test it here to see if it works?” She twisted around to meet Jack’s eyes. “We’re a half mile from the vortex, so you shouldn’t pick up whatever awfulness was down there.”

Jack smiled broadly, then kissed the side of Elsa’s head. “Eres genial, mi vida.”

“Good idea, Elsa,” James grinned. After setting his phone aside, he stood and moved toward the couple, already tracing patterns in the air with his hands. 

Lissa’s hand tightened on the neck of the guitar. Hearing James mutter incomprehensible, Hindi-like words brought back memories of the bald fuck who’d gone by the monicker Doctor Glitternight, a name better suited for a DJ who played trance music than a powerful sorcerer. He’d been on the island with Lissa and Jack the night of the first full moon after her eighteenth birthday. She’d known the second the sorcerer had arrived, likely by portal, due to the ominous, pulsing waves sweeping over her. Jack hadn’t felt them, but they resonated in Lissa’s bones, and she knew they were out of time. The moon was about to rise, so she and Jack would transform and likely fight. The pain her brother had described joined that dark, foreboding energy, and Lissa’s memories of that night ended there, thank god. 

“Lis?” Jack called. “You okay?”

After blinking a few times, Lissa rejoined the present. Her three companions fixed concerned looks on her from the opposite side of the campfire. James, now quiet, sat a short distance to Jack’s right. Elsa had moved to sit to his left, now shoulder-to-shoulder with her mate. None of them seemed alarmed, so presumably the spell had worked as intended.

Lissa donned a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It worked?”

The three grinned, especially James. “Sure did!” he confirmed. “It’ll last 24 hours, or until I dismiss it.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Jack said, “but Elsa said she senses whatever I’m focused on, and Snow a little, too.”

Lissa managed to suppress a shudder; she had no desire to sense anything from Jack’s wolf, or any wolf for that matter.

Elsa caught Lissa’s eye. “It’s strange, but not bad. And if it’s too much…” She leaned away from her mate. “…just back off. You have to touch him to feel anything.” The somewhat aloof woman touched her shoulder to Jack’s again, and they exchanged smitten smiles.

James chuckled. “Am I good or what?”

“You are. Thanks, man,” Jack grinned. Then he turned to Lissa. “We should hike down to the vortex soon. I can share my memories of Papá with you before we go, if you want.”

Lissa took a deep breath, then nodded. The fact that she could sever the magical connection by moving away from her brother assuaged her fears.

“Buena onda,” Jack smiled. “Ven aquí, hermana,” he said, gesturing to his right. James scooted further away to make space for Lissa.

After setting Mamá’s guitar aside, Lissa sat cross-legged beside her brother, not-quite touching. Jack leaned forward and told James, “You can see too, if you like.”

The sorcerer shrugged. “Nah. This is a family thing.”

Jack nodded as he sat back with the firelight picking out motes of gold in his irises. He and Elsa had explained that the amount of yellow in his eyes showed how much the wolf was “with” Jack.

It was right there with him, apparently.

With them.

Lissa looked away and suppressed another shudder.

“Estoy en control, Lissa,” her brother said softly.

She sniffed facetiously. “You’re a mind reader now, too?”

Smiling, Jack shook his head, then closed his eyes and laid his hand on his knee. “I’m remembering Papá now,” he said. “Put your hand over mine, Lis, if you want to see him.”

Lissa was torn. She wanted to see him, but every fiber of her being said this was a bad idea. Nothing good came from magic or the wolf.

She leaned forward and peered past Jack to see how Elsa was doing. Her sister-in-law’s eyes also were closed, and she smiled slightly. “You have his eyes,” Elsa murmured.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Lissa laid her left hand over Jack’s right, and the dark ravine morphed into an elegant, wood-paneled room with dozens of leather-bound books on one wall. Jewel-tone rugs covered much of the stone floor, and tall, narrow windows let in angled shafts of light. Strong hands held Lissa under her arms, lifting her up and almost tossing her into the air. She giggled from the near weightlessness, unafraid because Papá and Mamá were there, smiling up at her. “Băiat drag,” Papá said with his heart in his green eyes. 

Lissa had enough of a sense of self to mentally compare the thirty-something man she saw now to photographs she’d seen, and her uncle/stepfather Philip’s appearance. Both men had had fair skin and similar European features. The primary differences were Papá’s squarer jaw and wavy, medium-brown hair. Philip had been blond-haired and blue-eyed.

Lissa’s much younger self whimpered, drawing her—Jack’s—attention. Mamá, who looked so young, held dark-haired and dark-eyed, two-year-old Lissa against her with one arm. With the other she reached for her, stroking the back of her head. She and Mamá could have been sisters; they even had the same smile. “Mi cielo,” Mamá said, “Lissa vrea o tură.”

Lissa felt Papá’s hands move to shift her against his chest, gently holding her there with one arm. Mamá moved little Lissa closer as Papá reached with his free hand—

—and she and Papá were suddenly somewhere cold. Both of them wore warm coats which rebuffed much of the biting wind. Lissa had her face pressed against her father’s shoulder, the wool of his coat itchy against her face but warm, if not as warm as his arms holding her close. 

“Look, Jacob,” Papá said in Romanian, which Lissa somehow understood.

Lissa shook her head against Papa’s shoulder. In Romanian she replied, “It’s too cold. Wanna go inside.”

“Soon, Jacob. But first look! See how beautiful the valley is with the first snow.”

Lissa didn’t want to look. She wanted to go inside and find her sister and warm up by the fireplace. But Papá wanted her to look, so she reluctantly turned her head and was glad she did.

The morning sun sparkled on a bright white blanket that stretched for kilometers to the mountains. She’d seen this view dozens of times from the safety of Mamá’s or Papá’s arms because the ground was far below this balcony in one turret of the castle. Not long ago the fields had been amber and patches of forest green, yellow, and orange, but now nearly everything was white and the sky overhead a piercing blue. The river was a silver snake curling its way to the mountains, tapering into its tail. 

People moved far below, some shoveling walkways while others drove slowly through unplowed roads in cars and trucks. Buildings—some with smoke rising from chimneys—were close together near their home, then spread out on the other side of the stone walls enclosing the oldest part of the town. Lissa wondered who lived in the mountains, if anyone. Surely it was even colder there.

A gale of wind lashed Lissa’s face, stinging her eyes. Crying, she pressed into Papá’s shoulder. She felt him shiver around her, then chuckle. “You’re right, Jacob. It’s too cold.” He turned around, fresh snow crunching under his feet. “Let’s see what your mother and sister are up to.” 

Lissa smiled against Papá’s coat as he opened the door. Warmth and the smell of wood smoke spilled outside.

The memory faded, replaced with darkness and a plethora of smells and sounds. The smoke remained, but was that of pine rather than the oak that had burned in the castle. Lissa smelled herself, her sister, James’s scent under his cologne, and her mate’s sage, citrus, and vanilla. The wolf inside purr-growled—

—and Lissa snapped back to herself with a gasp. She drew her knees to her chest, focusing on deep, even breaths as her brother, Elsa, and James expressed concern. “I need a minute,” she told them and stared into the campfire.

The others moved around Lissa, with James and Jack wandering off and Elsa settling down to her left. “Hey,” Elsa said a bit stiffly. Although Lissa was still getting to know her sister-in-law, she could already tell that the monster hunter wasn’t a people person. A hand rested on Lissa’s shoulder. “This okay?” Elsa asked.

Lissa nodded. “Yeah.” She looked away from the fire to give the other woman the best smile she could manage. Normally Jack would have pulled Lissa into a hug, but he wisely refrained. The last thing Lissa wanted was more exposure to the wolf due to James’s spell.

“The memories were positive,” Elsa ventured, “so I guess sensing Snow was upsetting?”

Lissa nodded. 

They listened to night noises and the crackling flames for a minute or so. Then Lissa said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, but I don’t guarantee an answer.” She saw the black-haired woman’s playful smirk out of the corner of her eye.

Lissa chuckled, “Fair enough.” After taking a deep breath, she said, “How do you stand it? Having the wolf right there with you and Jack more often than not, it seems like. Aren’t you scared?”

Elsa gave her a sad smile. “Sometimes. Not often now since we’ve been working with Snow.” Her eyes drifted to the campfire. “I get Jack and the wolf, sort of, because of how I was raised.”

Lissa twisted her body to face Elsa, who withdrew her hand. “To be a hunter?”

Elsa nodded, meeting Lissa’s eyes. “My father was…” She chuckled mirthlessly. “‘Fucked up’ is a good way to put it. Cruel.” 

Lissa frowned, hurting for whatever Elsa had gone through. She’d had a few friends over the years with messed-up families, although none had been hunters. She didn’t understand how parents could hurt their own children, but knew it happened far too often. 

“Mom isn’t cruel,” Elsa continued. “Eventually she got my brother Cullen and me out of there. Dad was rich, but what’s the point of being rich if you’re dying inside?”

Lissa nodded, feeling tears well in her eyes. Her sister-in-law’s story was hitting close to home in a way. Both families were stuck with pain they hadn’t asked for, but had been blessed financially. Money helps with a lot of things, but can’t heal internal wounds.

“The wolf…” Lissa pursed her lips, then chose to use the name it had been given. “…Snow… doesn’t just want to kill everyone?”

Elsa’s sad smile returned. “No. He wants to live. To be free and have a mate. He wants to hunt and feed and play. Magic—the curse—took all of that away from him years ago. He can live more now, so he’s not angry all the time. But he’s still a wolf, so he doesn’t like people in general.” She chuckled. “I don’t either, so…” She ended the sentence with a shrug.

“Some people suck,” Lissa agreed with a grin. Then her thoughts turned to her daughter Nina, who had her own wolf. Although Lissa would never forgive herself for assuming she wouldn’t pass along the werewolf curse after her own had been lifted, Nina seemed to be handling her own complicated life well. They spoke on the phone and texted occasionally, as Nina’s busy travel scheduled allowed. She and Adam must have done something right, because Nina seemed to be thriving.

The sounds of boots crunching on gravel brought Lissa back to the present. “Hermana,” Jack began, “I’m sorry I—”

Lissa looked up to find her brother and James standing a few feet away. Firelight made the gold in Jack’s irises shine, but the sight wasn’t foreboding now. She got to her feet as well. “It’s okay, Jack.” She smiled at Elsa, who'd also stood. “Elsa helped a lot.” Since her sister-in-law was only touchy-feely with Jack, Lissa gave the woman’s arm a quick squeeze of thanks. To her brother she said, “Not gonna lie, Snow freaks me out, but I understand your whole thing better now. And it was wonderful to see—experience—Papá and Mamá back then.”

“It was,” Jack and Elsa said in unison, then exchanged lovesick glances. Lissa nearly teased Jack about it, but let this one slide.

Lissa strode up to her brother to pull him into a hug. Jack stepped back and put his hands up. “Snow’s with me, Lissa, and the spell is still active. You’ll feel him again.”

She sniffed with mock indignation. “You’re my brother, and I’m gonna hug you if I want.” Jack smiled hugely, and she paused just before making contact. “But do me a favor and focus hard on something else.”

Chuckling, Jack replied, “You got it, Lis.” They embraced, and Lissa experienced the campfire from Jack’s point of view as well as their hug.

“It’s cool,” James said breezily as Lissa and Jack pulled apart. “I’ll just stand here all by my lonesome, unloved and unappreciated.”

Elsa heaved a sigh, strode up to the young man, and threw her arms wide with a grin. James accepted the hug, then grunted.

“Too hard?” Elsa quipped.

“Li’l bit,” James croaked. Elsa stepped back, and they all chuckled. 

“So,” Lissa said, nodding at the campfire, “once that’s out, it’s vortex time?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll smother it with sand.”

“I gotcha, bruh,” James said as he waved his hands. The fire winked out abruptly.

Laughing, Elsa punched the sorcerer’s upper arm as she strode toward her motorcycle. “Show off.”

James clapped his hand over his sore arm and mouthed “Ow!”

Chapter Text

Under ordinary circumstances Elsa would enjoy a moonlit stroll with her mate in the wilderness, but tonight was anything but ordinary. She, James, Lissa, and Jack followed the dirt road near their campsite toward the state park that had closed at sunset. Since the dry air had cooled rapidly, Elsa had kept on her white, gray, and red motorcycle jacket and overpants. Normally she’d wear dark clothing like her companions’, but discovery was unlikely. The route she and Jack had planned avoided the park’s campground and handful of modern buildings.

The walk out of the foothills north into a narrow valley had been uneventful so far. Other than a run-in with a bear or mountain lion, Elsa was most concerned about Jack and Snow being overwhelmed by whatever spooky shit they’d felt earlier. The subtle warmth of the Bloodstone laying on her chest and weight of the pistol and knives on her belt were somewhat reassuring, as was Night scouting ahead and returning to the group periodically. The spirit of the black wolf would alert them to danger with a howl that only Elsa, Jack, and possibly James could hear. The sorcerer and Lissa walked a few paces behind Jack while Elsa brought up the rear. 

Jack, wearing his black and gray motorcycle gear, halted after passing the east-west oriented fence they’d noticed on Google Maps. They’d scramble up the hillside to the west to the flat, southern part of the park, then hike to a ridge further west. Following the ridge northeast skirted the park buildings, campground, and graveyard where several Fort Tejon soldiers had been buried in the mid-1800s. A thousand feet further northeast was the strongest part of the energy vortex near the site of the fort’s hospital and the fur trapper’s grave.

Night left Elsa’s side and loped up to Jack, who’d turned to face them. “Everyone okay?” he called quietly.

James replied with a thumbs up as Lissa shifted the soft-sided guitar case across her back and nodded. Elsa smiled and whispered, “Te amo,” knowing her mate would hear her. Jack’s wide grin said he had.

Kneeling to get on Night’s level, Jack said something to her while pointing up the hillside to the west. The black wolf bounded in that direction and out of sight.

“Hermano,” Lissa said softly. “Were you talking to Night?”

He stood up, met her eyes, and nodded.

“She understands you?”

“Yes,” Jack replied. “Elsa too.”

Elsa moved up to Lissa’s side. “We don’t have deep philosophical conversations,” she said, “but she understands us. No idea why, but we’ll take it.”

Lissa fixed a pensive look on Elsa, then her brother. “You have a pack.”

Jack smiled, as did Elsa.

“I don’t know about you, Lissa,” James grinned, “but I feel pretty well protected right now.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lissa smiled. “Me too.”

Movement up and to Elsa’s left drew her attention. Night stood at the top of the slope, her black fur darker than the starry night sky behind her. The wolf met Jack’s eyes, then Elsa’s and wagged her tail. “All clear,” Elsa told the others.

Jack had taken a few steps toward Night when Lissa asked, “Is she still there?”

He stopped and faced his sister. “Yes,” Jack replied, tilting his head curiously.

“I’d, um…” Lissa took a deep breath, then stepped up to her brother. “I’d like to see her, if that’s okay.” She reached one hand for Jack’s.

Jack smiled broadly as he extended his hand. “Cómo no, hermana.”

Her posture stiffened when they made contact. Jack turned to Night, and Lissa gasped. “She’s beautiful,” Lissa murmured. “Kinda scary, but beautiful.”

Elsa glanced at the black wolf, who was smiling with her eyes. Although she doubted Lissa noticed the nuance, Elsa kept quiet. Her sister-in-law was easing into the whole “wolves aren’t your enemy” thing, at least when it came to Snow and Night.

“She is,” Jack agreed. 

Lissa released Jack’s hand and nodded at the hillside. “Let’s get moving.”

The hike west to the ridge was uneventful. The group followed the ridgeline northeast, then followed Jack down the eastern slope, which was partially wooded with oaks and pines. Elsa and Jack moved across the leaf-littered ground quietly; James and Lissa not so much.

As they neared the handful of centuries-old valley oaks on the southwest side of the old fort’s parade ground, Jack halted abruptly. Elsa stopped as well with all senses on high alert. Lissa and James had also paused, but not Night, who continued on ahead of Jack. Elsa neither saw nor heard anything unusual.

“Dude, what?” James asked.

Jack pointed ahead and to his right. “Camel.”

Elsa saw nothing but grass, the reconstructed barracks on the far side of the parade ground, and wooded hills bounding the valley. 

“Camel?” Lissa echoed skeptically as Elsa jogged up to her mate.

“We just entered the vortex,” James said, “so maybe you and Snow see something from the past. But a camel?”

Elsa glanced up at Jack, who was frowning at seemingly empty space. “Amor,” she prompted.

Jack tore his eyes away from the apparition and smiled at her. “Mi vida,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. She took it and wasn’t surprised to see a haltered, two-humped camel grazing about fifty feet away. Elsa couldn’t withhold a laugh, but managed to be quiet about it.

“You cannot be serious,” Lissa drawled.

Jack chuckled. “Elsa sees it too now.”

“What’s next?” James laughed. “Elephants? Dinosaurs?”

“It’s from the U.S. Camel Corps,” Elsa explained, shaking her head at the sight despite understanding the memory’s origin. James and Lissa exclaimed disbelief, so Elsa continued. “Fort Tejon was the western end of the route used by the Camel Corps. It existed for a few years in the mid-1800s to transport stuff across desert terrain.”

Although she hadn’t moved, Elsa suddenly saw herself from Jack’s point of view. He must have turned to look at her. “Really?” he asked.

Elsa let go of his hand to escape the bizarre effects of James’s spell. Jack’s face fell, and Elsa understood why; she missed touching him as well. “Really,” she replied, then turned to Lissa and James. “So says Wikipedia. I read about it before we left L.A.”

“Huh,” James commented as Lissa shrugged.

Elsa turned back to her mate and nodded ahead to the towering oaks near Lebeck’s grave and the site of the old hospital. “Let’s get to it while you’re only sensing a nice, quiet camel.” Jack agreed with a chuckle.

They continued northeast through the small stand of six-foot-diameter valley oaks and across the parade ground. As they approached the split-rail fence marking the site of the hospital, Jack stumbled. Bracing for whatever he and Snow were experiencing, Elsa put her arm around his shoulders to steady him. 

Agonized screams and wails resounded in Elsa’s head. Somehow she knew that some were from soldiers undergoing what passed for surgery centuries ago. Others were the voices of Native Americans suffering as they were marched at gunpoint north toward Tejon Pass. Gnawing hunger and fatigue sapped Elsa’s strength, nearly buckling her legs until she reminded herself that this wasn’t real. It had been real, but wasn’t her reality, nor Jack’s.

Although she didn’t remember moving, Elsa found herself crouched in front of her mate grasping his hands and foreheads touching. “Jack, Snow,” she urged. “Focus on now. You’re here with me, Lissa, James, and Night. The soldiers are gone. The Indians are gone. It’s just us…” An idea came to her, prompting a grin. “…and the camel.”

Jack chuckled, and the screams and hunger and fatigue faded somewhat. Elsa felt what it was like to kiss her lips and Snow’s purr of approval and smelled everyone’s scents and it was all so weird that she nearly pulled away completely, but didn’t. “No,” she gasped. “I can’t do this. It’s too much. We need to move away from the hospital.”

“Yes, mi amor,” Jack murmured. He straightened, then led Elsa by the hand. She kept her eyes closed because it was less disorienting that way, trusting her mate and their companions to keep her safe. Jack’s wolf-keen ears heard James’s and Lissa’s quiet footfalls and heartbeats a few steps behind them.

Lissa said quietly, “Is it me, or is this really strange?”

“It’s not you,” James replied with a chuckle.

Elsa managed to walk with Jack, grateful that the echoes of the injured, sick, or starving natives and soldiers waned further with each step. When it had quieted to a murmur, Jack stopped, prompting Elsa to do the same. She saw Lissa and James, concerned and curious, through her mate’s eyes. “This is tolerable,” Jack said, “Hermana, get Mamá’s guitar out, please.”

Lissa nodded, pulling the case’s strap over her head. “What are you sensing?”

“Suffering,” Jack replied as Elsa said, “Agony.”

Lissa froze and stared wide-eyed.

James gulped. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Elsa breathed, her eyes still closed. “It’s a lot.”

After drawing a deep breath, Lissa set the case on the grass, kneeled, and pulled out the guitar with its hand-painted decorations. “Here,” she said, offering it to her brother.

Jack reached for the guitar’s neck, then paused. “Hold on.” He slowly swept his gaze all around while listening intently. Over the now-faint cries of the soldiers and natives Elsa heard multiple small animals moving in trees and grass around them. To the southwest the long-dead camel continued to graze. Night stood a short distance away, keeping her own watch. If she’d noticed the camel, she didn’t seem bothered by it.

Movement to the north drew Jack’s attention. Despite shadows from the enormous valley oak over Lebeck’s grave, he and Elsa saw a buckskin-clad, bearded figure lurching in the dappled moonlight 100 feet away. Most of his fringed jacket and pants were stained dark from his own blood. Only a stump of his right arm remained, and blood dripped from where his left hand should be. Two snarling bear cubs with light brown fur circled the dying trapper, occasionally lunging in to bite. Lebeck didn’t have much luck fending them off.

Elsa swallowed hard. “I guess Mom did most of the damage.”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed. “This afternoon Snow and I saw her attack after he’d shot her. A bear trap was on her left hind foot.”

“Peter Lebeck?” Lissa asked.

Elsa and Jack nodded.

“What an asshole,” James muttered. “You see him? What does he look like?”

“You don’t want to know,” Elsa replied. “The cubs will finish him off if he doesn’t bleed out first.”

Lissa cocked her head. “Where’s mama bear?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, then turned to face his sister. “Hopefully we’ll see happier memories from Mamá’s guitar, and learn more about the Order.” He sank to the ground, tugging Elsa with him, and accepted the guitar from his sister.

A quiet chorus of guitars and singing voices rose up, nearly drowning out the moans and cries of those who’d suffered over a hundred years earlier. Dozens of songs overlapped, starting and stopping randomly. Although the music wasn’t melodic, somehow it wasn’t discordant.

After laying the guitar across his lap, Jack turned to his sister. Lissa sat cross-legged across from them, dividing her attention between Jack and their mother’s guitar. James stood beside her, occasionally glancing around.

“We hear her, Lissa,” Jack breathed. “She’s singing.”

Tears welled in Lissa’s dark eyes, and Elsa felt them in hers and Jack’s as well.

“Not just her, I think,” Elsa murmured. “There’s a man’s voice sometimes. Maybe more than one, and children, too.”

Elsa felt her mate smile broadly. “It’s Papá and us, Lissa. Dozens of memories overlapping. We hear them clearly, and Mamá playing the guitar.”

Lissa leaned forward. “Can you focus on ones with Mamá and Papá?”

“I’m trying,” Jack replied, and Elsa heard the songs with the tenor that wasn’t Jack’s grow louder.

After putting the now-empty guitar case across her back, Lissa crawled to sit on Jack’s other side. Elsa felt her hand on Jack’s knee and heard the woman gasp. “¡Dios mío!”

“Y’all okay?” James asked.

Jack nodded. “Yes. It’s a lot, but Snow and I can handle it.” Elsa felt the wolf stir, pleased with the recognition. On Jack’s other side Lissa shivered. He moved one hand off of the guitar to give his sister’s a quick squeeze. “Está bien.”

One pair of voices crescendoed, and Elsa felt flickers of a memory. She sat on the edge of a small stage in a dimly lit room. A bar or pub, probably, with a dozen patrons at tables talking amongst themselves. 

The guitar was a comfortable, familiar weight in her hands. She strummed a chord and hummed the tonic note, a concert C, an octave below the range comfortable for her. “Like that, Gregory,” Laura said in accented Romanian.

The handsome, dark-haired man sat close beside her; too close if they hadn’t been flirting. Laura was just fine with their shoulders brushing occasionally. Despite his well-tailored shirt and trousers, Gregory didn’t look out of place in the bar, where most everyone wore casual polyester or jeans, including Laura’s boho-style dress.

He hummed a note closer to D than C, and Laura laughed. “Is that the best you can do?”

Gregory’s green eyes crinkled from his smile. “That was better than my last try, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Laura chuckled. “I’ll give you that.”

Gregory turned his whole body to face her. “You know what would help?”

Laura strummed the chord again, then idly played a few arpeggios. “What?”

“Singing lessons.” Other than the corners of his lips tugging up, Gregory’s delivery was deadpan.

Laura shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “Maybe. You’ll need a good teacher.”

“Someone talented,” Gregory agreed. 

He leaned closer, as did Laura until the top corner of the guitar pressed into her ribs. Chuckling, she glanced at the guitar’s maple body as she laid it flat on her lap. As it angled down the stage lights overhead swept across the glossy black paint outlining the Sanguine Order’s stylized, inverted triangle, and Elsa gasped.

“Amor, there!” she urged as the memory flickered. “Focus there!”

Lissa loosed rapid, agitated Spanish, to which Jack replied in kind. Elsa understood part of it, including “Not helping, Lissa!”

Elsa felt Jack concentrate on the memory of his parents in the tavern as his fingers skimmed the painted part of the guitar’s body. His fingertips found the thick paint of the triangular symbol and traced its lines. The tavern's wavering image turned brighter and more colorful, and the air cold. She smelled pine and grass and fresh water and Gregory’s cologne. 

Sunset’s warm colors were fading. Soon it would be time to go inside with the others. Laura bounced on her toes and shifted her guitar case to her other hand, glad she’d worn warm boots and her wool coat.

“—almost done?” James asked, his voice taut.

“Shh!” Lissa scolded.

The memory that had hold of Jack beckoned, but an overwhelming sense of wrongness wrenched Elsa out of it. As she pulled away from her mate and came back to herself, Night howled.

Elsa leaped to her feet, her hand moving to her holstered pistol. Other than the black wolf’s pacing fifty feet ahead, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Three tall valley oaks towered over Lebeck’s grave and where the hospital had been. Beyond them a sparsely wooded hillside climbed up to form another ridge.

“What does she see?” James whispered.

“I don’t—”

Rustling and rapid, heavy footfalls sounded faintly from beyond the oak trees, then grew louder. Night howled again before running back to the group as Elsa drew her semi-auto pistol, thumbed the safety off, and aimed at the sound. Something large moved in the shadows and rushed toward them. “Jack! Snow!” Elsa hissed.

James fell back to Elsa’s side. “What the fuck is—”

“Shh!” Elsa scolded. “If I can’t stop it, you’re plan B.”

The sorcerer looked at her askance. “Which is?”

“Think of something!” Elsa retorted as she nudged Jack with her foot. He didn’t respond. She tore her eyes away from the fast-moving shadow to glance at Lissa. Her eyes were closed and her brow knitted in concentration with one hand still on Jack’s knee.

The thing moving toward them emerged from the oaks’ shadows. Moonlight showed a huge, angry grizzly bear running full-tilt despite its limp. 

Despite her target being outside the gun’s range, Elsa fired three times. The bear roared but didn’t slow, and neither Jack nor Lissa stirred. “Dismiss the spell!” Elsa barked.

“Which one?” James yelped.

“The shared experiences one!”

The sorcerer’s hands started moving as Elsa fired three more rounds, all of which hit but only seemed to piss off the bear more and she remembered the echo of Peter Lebeck, bloody and one-armed, and knew that would be their fate if Jack and Snow didn’t wake the fuck up. 

James halted abruptly, then waved his arms in a different pattern. The Bloodstone on her chest pulsed warmth, and for a moment Elsa thought she saw a shimmer of orange energy as the bear closed on them, now thirty feet away, snarling and snorting with blood glistening darkly on the brown fur of its chest and shoulder.

Elsa kicked Jack hard, then leveled her gun on where the bear’s head bottomed out as she ran. 

The bear’s snapping maw rose up, then down.

Elsa squeezed the trigger as James chanted and Jack and Lissa shouted and Night bayed and the Bloodstone scorched her skin and white-hot energy consumed everything.

Chapter Text

Home! Snow exclaimed.

The wolf’s ebullience and woodsy, humid air nudged Jack to consciousness. He was flat on his back and cold despite his motorcycle gear, and something light lay across his legs. The quiet nighttime chorus of a forest rose to his ears, as well as three heartbeats nearby. The wind gusted, bringing the acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with Elsa’s sage and vanilla scent.

Elsa.

She’d been shooting at a charging bear. Lebeck’s grizzly bear.

Jack gasped fully awake and lurched upright, knocking Mamá’s guitar off his lap. Twilight and the half-full moon revealed a grassy clearing and his breath making frosty clouds in the cold air. Immediately in front of him was Lissa, unconscious and sprawled on her stomach. Fifty feet beyond her stood a small, windowless, stuccoed building with a terracotta tile roof. Behind it was evergreen forest. 

Elsa, still clutching her 9-mm pistol, lay unconscious on Jack’s left. On his mate’s other side was James, spread-eagle on his back with his eyes closed. There was no sign of the bear, the energy vortex, nor Fort Tejon. 

A pit formed in Jack’s stomach as he set his mother’s guitar aside. Where the hell were they?

Joy and a sense of safety surged from the wolf. Home! Restlessness joined the swell of Snow’s emotions. He wanted to run and find his pack.

Wait, Jack told the wolf. Since none of his companions seemed injured, he carefully looked and listened for threats. They were near the end of a long, narrow clearing that extended to his left, which felt like south, to the shores of a lake that gleamed silver in the moonlight. Tall, wooded slopes rose up from the far end of the lake. 

He asked Snow, Where is home? 

The wolf’s memory of standing in the snow near the crest of a mountain rushed back to him. Jack had experienced that with the wolf nearly a month ago in St. Louis. Quashing frustration and worry, Jack returned, I understand. Your home is these mountains. Although it wasn’t the answer Jack wanted, he couldn’t expect the wolf to point out their location on a map.

Assured that there was no immediate threat, Jack turned to his mate. “Mi vida,” he called, not touching Elsa due to the gun in her hand. “Wake up. We’re safe.”

She as well as James and Lissa began to rouse, and Jack realized he hadn’t seen Night. 

Elsa pushed herself upright, sweeping her eyes all around while pointing her gun at the ground. “Where is it?!”

“Gone,” Jack assured her as he laid one hand on her shoulder. “You and James must have fought the bear off.”

“Thank god,” she breathed, thumbing the pistol’s safety on. After returning it to its holster, Elsa threw her arms around him. Jack held his mate close, her scent a balm for his mounting anxiety. She soon tensed. “Jack, where—”

“Puta madre,” Lissa groaned.

James sat up with his eyes darting around. “It’s gone, right?!”

“Yes,” Elsa and Jack assured him. She pulled away to lay a hand on James’s arm. Jack did the same for his sister, who was pushing herself up to her knees.

The sorcerer breathed a sigh of relief. “That was way too close.”

Lissa’s fear-widened eyes caught Jack’s. In a quiet, taut voice she asked, “Hermano, was that bear real? Like really there?”

Jack nodded, reluctant to admit that they had bigger problems.

Lissa gulped as she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Her light jacket and jeans weren’t warm enough for what felt like autumn in the mountains. Then her eyes focused on something behind Jack. “Those trees weren’t there before.”

Chuckling nervously, Elsa nodded at the structure a short distance behind Lissa. “Neither was that building.”

Jack opened his mouth to relay what little he knew about their situation when James scrubbed his face with both hands. “Shit.”

Everyone turned to him.

“I think my spell fucked up,” the sorcerer muttered through his hands.

“What?!” Lissa exclaimed, scrambling to her feet with the soft-sided guitar case shifting on her back. Jack stood as well, and James and Elsa followed suit.

After swallowing hard, James said, “It was supposed to send the bear home. I mean, she was real. She shouldn’t be. She should have died ages ago!”

“It worked, sort of,” Jack stated, earning puzzled looks from his companions. “We are home. Snow’s home.”

“What,” Elsa said in a monotone.

Lissa demanded, “And that would be where?”

“Here,” Jack shrugged, keeping a tight rein on his unease. “Snow doesn’t have a concept of where ‘here’ is in the world.”

James pulled his cell phone from a pocket somewhere in his sorcerer’s tunic with a muttered “Fuck.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Lissa exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

While she paced a few steps away, Elsa caught one of Jack’s hands in a tight grip. He turned to his mate in time to see her anxious expression settle into determination. One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Snow’s happy, huh?”

Jack chuckled ironically. “Very.”

“No signal,” Lissa stated. Jack looked at his sister to find her tapping at her phone like James was. She glanced at the rest of them. “Anyone?”

Since Jack had left his phone and wallet in his pack at the campsite, he turned to his mate. Elsa pulled her phone out and checked. “Nothing.”

“Me neither,” James said.

Elsa let go of Jack’s hand and took a step toward the clay-tiled building. “Maybe this will give us some clues.”

“Hold on,” Lissa said. Jack turned to find her frowning at her phone. “My phone says it’s 1 AM, but…” She gestured at the steel gray sky in the west. “It’s too light out for that.”

After taking a deep breath, Jack divulged the last of his insight into how wrong James’s spell had gone. “The moon’s half full,” he said, nodding overhead. “It was waxing gibbous at Fort Tejon.”

Elsa worried her lip for a moment, then scanned the night sky with her eyes. “We’re in the Northern Hemisphere, at least.” She pointed up and to the north. “There’s the Big Dipper.”

“Okay,” James said, nodding to himself. “I’ll figure this out.” He stowed his phone in a pocket and raised his hands.

Lissa lunged at the sorcerer, shouting “No more!” 

Jack intercepted his sister and pulled her into a hug. “Hermana, wait. It’ll be okay—”

“Okay?!” Lissa retorted as she pulled away. She waved at the half-full moon. “That can’t be explained by time zones or latitude or being unconscious for hours.” She paced a few steps away, gesturing broadly with her hands. “We don’t know where or when we are thanks to magic and the fucking vortex, I guess. How will we get home? Are we stuck here, wherever—”

Jack stepped up to Lissa and wrapped his arms around her again. She didn’t resist, instead pressing her face into his shoulder. He stroked her hair, finding the gesture soothing for himself as well. 

Elsa and James stood a few feet away, their features creased with worry. Jack nodded at the building. “See what you can find out, okay?” They nodded in reply and headed off.

Within a few minutes Lissa’s heart rate and breathing had slowed to normal. She pulled back a little wearing a sheepish grin. “Gracias. Sorry for the freak-out.”

“De nada, hermana.”

Lissa pulled away completely, then took a long look around. “Wherever this is, it’s beautiful,” she admitted. Then she moved to their mother’s guitar on the grassy ground, kneeled, and pulled the guitar case strap over her head. “How are you so calm?” she asked as she returned the instrument to its case.

“I’m not calm,” Jack admitted with a chuckle. “Just staying quiet. This isn’t my first impossible situation. It’s not Elsa’s either. We take it one step at a time.”

Lissa nodded. “Makes sense.” She stood with the guitar on her back and faced the building. “Step one is figure out where and when we are, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed. 

They walked side by side along the southern end of the building. A single tall, narrow window interrupted the whitewashed, stucco wall. On the west end rose a small, weatherbeaten, board-and-batten, square tower.  

Brother and sister peered through the window and found two aisles of simple wooden pews. “A church,” Lissa commented. “A small one.”

Elsa’s and James’s light footsteps approached from the west. “Yep!” James said cheerfully in Spanish. “Saint Anne’s Chapel, to be precise.” His accent was Tapatío, like Jack’s and Lissa’s.

Jack stepped back from the window and frowned at his friend. “You speak Spanish?”

The sorcerer grinned as Elsa chuckled. “No, but that’s your preferred language, so that’s how you hear me while this spell is active.”

“Oh god,” Lissa moaned in English. “Not more magic.”

Elsa gave her a sympathetic smile. “It was the only way to read the sign on the front of the chapel.” Since his mate seemed to be speaking in English, Jack presumed James had only cast the translation spell on himself. Elsa cant her head to the west. “Take a look.”

They walked to the west side of the chapel. Angular letters carved into live-edge boards read:

SZENT ANNA-KÁPOLNA

LÁZÁRFALVI RÓM. KAT. EGYHÁZKÖZÖSSÉG

Lissa frowned at the sign mounted over the tall, arched entryway secured by cast iron gates. “What language is that?”

“No idea,” James chuckled.

Jack peered at the sorcerer. “The spell doesn’t tell you what language you’re reading?”

James shook his head. “Nope.”

“Magic is so stupid,” Lissa muttered.

The sorcerer rounded on Lissa, hamming up offense. “Hey!”

Jack gave his sister a quick side hug. She distrusted magic as much as he had until recently. Their current circumstance suggested that distrust was the more logical opinion. “We’ll figure this out, Lis.”

“Looks Slavic,” Elsa mused aloud. “So maybe Czech, Hungarian, Polish—”

James interrupted, “Then we’re probably in Eastern Europe.” 

Lissa and Jack exchanged wary looks. “Romania,” they said simultaneously.

Elsa strode up to Jack and took his hand. “Snow’s from Romania too?”

“Wait,” James said, fixing a puzzled look on Jack and Lissa. “You’re Mexican. Mexican-American, I mean.”

“Romanian, too,” Jack chuckled. “Papá was from Mediaș, Romania. He and Mamá lived in a castle there.”

James gaped. “What?!?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said our family is soap-opera complicated,” Lissa laughed. Jack was glad to hear some levity from her. “Papá was a baron. Baron Gregory Russoff.”

The sorcerer was dumbfounded for a few moments. “You’re royalty?”

“Maybe?” Jack shrugged, then looked to his sister.

“We haven't been to Mediaș, or anywhere in Romania, since Mamá took us to Mexico when we were little,” Lissa explained. “By the time we learned about it all Jack’s curse was about to kick in, and things got complicated fast.”

Elsa squeezed Jack’s hand. “I like the sound of Baroness.” He chuckled, and they indulged in a quick kiss. Widening her gaze to include Lissa and James, she said, “This might be Romania, or some other Eastern European country.” She gestured at the footpath leading from the church through the meadow toward the lake. “May as well see where this—”

“Wait,” Jack interjected. He thought he’d heard a vehicle’s engine in the distance. The others quieted as he turned to the south and listened. Tires crunched on a dirt road, then halted. After a door opened and closed, a single set of footsteps approached from where the footpath entered the woods 200 feet to the south. “Someone’s coming,” he said softly. “On foot. They parked their car near the edge of the woods down there, I think. Sounds like a diesel.”

Elsa grinned. “Whenever we are has cars.”

“That really narrows it down,” Lissa grumbled.

Jack took a few steps north to watch from the shadows the chapel cast there. He heard Lissa and Elsa quietly following, but not James.

“What’re you doing?” James whispered. “Let’s talk to whoever it is. I’ll understand ‘em.”

His friend had a point. Jack and likely his mate had assumed that the person approaching was a threat.

“I’d rather size them up first,” Elsa whispered in reply. She motioned for James to join them in the shadows. “C’mon.”

James sighed, but listened. “Y’all are paranoid,” he informed them. Lissa chuckled nervously.

The four stood near the northwest corner of the chapel cloaked in shadow. Time seemed to stretch out as the newcomer approached. Jack whispered his observations to the others. “It’s a man. He’s muttering to himself.”

“Do you understand what he’s saying?” Elsa asked.

“No. Sort of sounds like Italian.”

James began, “I could cast—”

“No!” Jack, Elsa, and Lissa hissed.

After giving the sorcerer a smile to soften the rebuke, Jack continued, “His heart is beating fast, so he’s nervous or not in good shape.”

Before long they all heard the man’s footfalls on the grassy path. In a baritone he said, “…nu pot sa cred ca fac asta. Ea nu vrea să mă vadă. Dar oamenii ăștia…”

“He said—” James whispered before Elsa and Lissa shushed him.

The breeze picked up from the south and carried the man’s scent to the group. Jack’s jaw dropped as Snow whined with mild excitement.

The muttering man rounded the southwest corner of the chapel. His height and build were average, and he had short blond hair, fair skin, and European facial features. The newcomer, who looked to be in his late twenties, wasn’t dressed for cold weather either; he wore a beige Members Only jacket over a collared shirt and gray trousers with black leather dress shoes. He rubbed his hands together to warm them.

Lissa gasped.

The man stopped short and peered in their direction. “Cine e acolo?” he called softly.

Jack held his breath as Elsa glared at James to keep quiet. Lissa silently stared wide-eyed at the young version of a man they’d known.

After a full minute had passed, the man continued to the iron gates at the chapel’s entrance. He removed something from his pants pocket, opened one of the gates, and strode through. Jack heard them clank shut, then the man’s footfalls move deeper into the building.

James rounded on Lissa and Jack. “Who the fuck is he?” he hissed.

“Philip?” Elsa guessed, dividing her gaze between Jack and Lissa.

Still stunned, Jack nodded.

Lissa breathed, “Our stepfather.”

Chapter Text

James hoped that no one else was on their way to this weird chapel in the middle of the woods somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere because he was on the verge of losing his shit, Lissa already had, and normally even-tempered Jack looked shell-shocked as he tried to console his hyperventilating sister. Only Elsa was cool and collected, standing at Jack’s side with one hand on his shoulder. She frowned in the direction of the chapel’s entrance, through which the twenty-something white man Lissa and Jack had said was their stepfather had disappeared moments earlier. If he were, they were decades in the past. How many, and how on earth would James get them back to 2024?

“That’s it, Lis,” Jack murmured from where he kneeled in the grass in front of his sister, their eyes locked and Jack’s hands on her upper arms. “Breathe in… and out. In…”

James breathed with them even as he worried his lip and tried to ignore his racing thoughts. He wished Ash were with them… sort of. His partner was good in a crisis, but he didn’t want to put them in danger. 

“N-nine—” Lissa gasped. “Nineteen…” She exhaled along with Jack and James.

Jack managed a wry grin. “Less talking, more breathing, sister.” His last word made James realize that Lissa and Jack were likely speaking Spanish, which he heard in English due to his still-active translation spell.

After inhaling Lissa quipped, “You’re talking, hypocrite.” Then she exhaled on cue.

“I can because I’m not hyperventilating.”

Elsa chuckled as Lissa’s face flushed. “Brat,” she muttered.

Jack laughed softly, then led them through another set of breaths. “Better?” he asked his sister, then glanced at James.

“Yeah,” Lissa replied as James nodded guiltily. His spell is what got them into this mess in the first place.

The siblings got to their feet, and Elsa and Jack embraced briefly. As glad as James was that they had each other, watching them support each other made James miss Ash even more and sent his thoughts spiraling into worry. James shook his head to nip it in the bud. Turning to Lissa, he asked, “Nineteen what?”

Anxiety creased Lissa’s pretty face, then she drew a deep, calming breath. “Nineteen fifty-four. The year Philip was born.”

James gulped. “So if he’s twenty-five now…”

“Then now is 1980, more or less,” Elsa finished. Her even tone of voice contrasted with her stiff posture and how she clutched Jack’s hand.

James chuckled nervously. “That would explain his ugly-ass jacket.”

Despite a quick smile at James’s joke, Jack ran his free hand through his graying hair and muttered nervously under his breath.

Lissa, who’d been fidgeting with the sleeves of her coat, stilled and fixed a fond look on Jack. “What do we do, brother?” The question sounded rhetorical.

“Handle it and keep going,” Jack replied with a smile.

James grinned at his friends. It was a good motto. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

His companions chuckled. “Generally?” Lissa said. “No.”

“First time time-travelling,” Elsa stated.

James winced. “I’m sorry. I had no idea that—”

“It’s not your fault, James,” Jack interrupted. “You were defending us from the bear and we were in the vortex and—”

“The Bloodstone,” Elsa said abruptly. “It was hot—burning—just before I passed out.”

Lissa’s eyebrows shot up as Jack frowned at his mate. “My love, are you okay?”

“I think so. Nothing hurts.” She tugged her hand free from Jack’s, pulled the zipper of her motorcycle jacket down, and peered inside her shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“So there were multiple factors that might have messed up the spell,” Lissa mused aloud. She looked at them each in turn, then peered at the entrance to the chapel. “But why are we here—whereever here is—and now?”

Elsa nodded at the footpath leading away from the chapel. “We could check out Philip’s car.”

After he'd blinked a few times, Jack said, “I wonder if it’s the Mercedes. Philip had it shipped from Romania when he emigrated. He loved that car.”

“This is nuts,” Lissa said with nervous energy, then waved at the chapel. “Our stepfather is in there, and we’re nearly old enough to be his parents!”

The four of them stood in the cold beside the whitewashed chapel, unsure what to do next.

James stood taller as an idea came to him. “Guys? He’s not alone in there. I understood what he was saying before.”

The others looked at him expectantly. 

He continued, “Something like ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this. She doesn’t want to see me. These people...’”

Jack gasped, then took a step toward the chapel’s entrance and breathed deeply. “The Order.”

James looked at his friend askance. “You know what they smell like?”

Chuckling, Jack replied, “No. Ah, maybe since Mamá seems to have been part of it at least for a little while. In general, no. But—”

“Does this place smell like it?” Lissa interrupted. “Like Mamá’s last memory?”

Jack nodded as Elsa smiled slightly. “Fresh water,” she said. “Forest. Your mother’s scent.”

“Papá’s cologne,” Lissa murmured.

James scowled, frustrated. “Y’all, I have no idea what memories you experienced while I was keeping an eye out.” He nodded at the chapel’s gated entrance. “You think they’re all in there? Philip and your mother and father?”

“Yes,” Jack replied. “Snow and I had focused on the Order’s symbol on her guitar, and the memory shifted. She’d brought her guitar here. It was sunset and cold. She was about to go inside and join the others.”

Elsa took a step toward the entrance. “C’mon.”

“We can’t just go talk to our parents!” Lissa protested, then turned to James. “It’s against time travel rules, right?”

“Why’re you asking me?” James retorted.

“Seems like that should be covered in sorcerer school.”

Guilt and worry twisted James’s stomach. “It’s not ‘sorcerer school’ and I don’t know if it’s covered! I don’t even have access to time-related spells yet.”

His last sentence hit his companions like a ton of bricks.

In a small voice Elsa asked, “You don’t?”

James shook his head.

“Fuck,” Lissa sighed.

The four stood in a somber silence for a full minute before Jack broke it. “Wait here. I’ll see what scents I can pick up at the entrance and along the path. I can’t believe I might have walked past Mamá’s and Papá’s.”

Elsa gave him a sympathetic smile. “There was a lot going on, love.” He smiled back, gave her quick kiss, and strode away.

Shivering, James wrapped his arms around himself and watched his friend work. He had a feeling that there was about to be an impromptu family reunion and crash course in the ways of the Order.

***

“No!” Lissa hissed for the third time. Elsa noticed her mate’s eyes flash yellow as Lissa’s protest echoed off of the whitewashed walls inside the chapel. The small, spartan church had odd acoustics, which added to Elsa’s uneasiness. If she didn’t count situations that had been immediately life-threatening, her current one—being stuck in an unknown place in 1980 with an upset werewolf, his panicking sister, a guilt-ridden, novice sorcerer, and no plan to get home—took the prize for the worst in her life so far.

With a quiet growl, Jack turned on his heel and stalked away from his sister. He hadn’t gone to Elsa, so she let him be while keeping an eye on a four-foot-wide alcove in the back of the semicircular apse in the rear of the small building. The scent trails—three of which belonged to Philip and Jack’s and Lissa’s parents—Jack had followed led to what appeared to be a solid wall at the back of the alcove. James, Jack, and Snow all sensed magic to no one’s surprise. They presumed that the silver and gemstone keychain ornament Elsa had lifted from Order member Vivian Sato would grant them passage as it had with the chapel gates. Lissa’s current obstinance was preventing them from moving forward with their admittedly minimal plan: learn more about the Order and avoid Lissa’s and Jack’s parents and stepfather at all costs.

Since Jack was pacing near the chapel entrance and Lissa poking around the chapel’s altar, Elsa strode to the pew James had slumped on. Defeat replaced his usual good cheer, and it was sobering.

After sitting beside the sorcerer and bumping his shoulder with hers, Elsa said, “Say something in sorcerer.”

James frowned at her. “Huh?”

“The name of a spell. The ones I’ve heard you mention sound like gobbley-gook to me. I wonder if I’ll understand them now with your translation spell.”

A smile brightened James’s face. “Translate,” he said—or seemed to say—in English.

“That was sorcerer-ese?” 

James nodded.

“Then it worked,” Elsa grinned.

They sat quietly as Lissa examined a chalice on a shelf and Jack’s footfalls behind them stopped. Elsa looked over her shoulder to find him standing at the narrow, leaded-glass window and peering outside. “I’ll check on Jack,” she told James quietly. “We need to get moving.”

The sorcerer nodded, then gave her an earnest smile. “Thanks for trusting me.”

After laying one hand on his shoulder, Elsa returned the smile, then moved toward her mate. The way he now stood at the window—one hand on either side of it, arms straight, and leaning forward with his head down—was concerning, so she stopped a short distance from him. “Amor?”

His head snapped up. For a split second Jack fixed a yellow-eyed snarl on her. Although his expression quickly softened, his eyes stayed wolf-yellow. He gave her a tired smile as he straightened, saying, “My love.”

They reached for each other and embraced, which soothed Elsa’s frayed nerves somewhat. In a near whisper she asked, “What’s going on, Jack? It’s more than Lissa being stubborn, isn’t it?”

Jack chuckled mirthlessly. “Snow and I are arguing. He wants to find his pack. He doesn’t understand that none of the wolves he’d known will be there.”

Elsa’s heart broke a little. Of course Snow would want to see his family. She hugged Jack more tightly for a few moments, knowing Snow could feel it. “How long do wolves live in the wild? Ten years?”

“Rarely. Usually five years or less.”

Elsa grimaced. “We’re probably fifteen years before he was alive here.”

Jack nodded solemnly, then pulled back and looked out the window. “Do you hear them?”

“Wolves?” Elsa asked. 

Her mate nodded with tears shining in his eyes. 

Elsa listened intently and caught a few warbling notes. “I hear them. Just barely.”

“They’re far away,” Jack said with a sad smile, “but we hear them. He’s miserable.”

Not knowing what else to do, Elsa hugged them close again. A lower-pitched howl seemed to float in the air, sparking an idea. She pulled back so she could meet their gold eyes. “Snow, can you recognize your pack’s voices?”

Jack seemed to look inward for a moment. “He can. He’s listening now.” Then he pressed his nose and mouth to Elsa’s hair, murmuring, “You’re brilliant, my love.”

They stood there holding each other for at least a minute, long enough for Lissa to peer at them curiously from the altar. She shook her head and gestured with her hands to silently ask “What are you doing?”

“Helping Snow understand our situation,” Elsa replied.

“He wants to find his pack. His family,” Jack added. “But the wolves we’re hearing are his ancestors.”

The lingering frustration on Lissa’s face softened. She gazed pensively at the alcove that somehow hid the passage that young versions of her parents and stepfather had passed through recently. After a few moments she turned around, gave Elsa and Jack a self-conscious smile, then approached James, who’d been following the conversation from the pew he’d selected. With a chagrinned half-smile she asked the sorcerer, “The translate spell went well for Jack and Elsa?”

James met her eyes and nodded.

Lissa squirmed, then grinned ironically. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Nope,” James, also grinning, confirmed.

Lissa threw her head back, sighed dramatically, then slumped on the pew beside the sorcerer. “Would you please cast that spell on me so I’ll have a clue as to what people are saying?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” James quipped, “yes.” He murmured a few words and waved his hands, and it was done.

One of Jack’s arms left Elsa’s waist, prompting her to glance up at him and found his face wet with tears. “Snow understands now?” she ventured.

“He understands enough,” Jack confirmed, wiping the tears from his face with one hand. Elsa was glad to see that her mate’s irises were now equally Jack’s green and Snow’s yellow. The wolf likely was mourning his kin, but wasn’t as angry and upset as he had been.

Elsa heard James and Lissa get to their feet and turned toward them. Lissa was back to fidgeting with the ends of her coat’s sleeves while James fixed a concerned look on Jack. He asked, “Y’all okay?”

“We’re managing,” Jack replied. Then he pulled away from Elsa and nodded toward the alcove. “Let’s go.”

As they moved to the rear of the building, Elsa pulled Sato’s keys from an inside pocket of her motorcycle jacket, careful to keep the triangular silver and gemstone ornament away from her mate. He’d already been burned by it once.

Jack put his ear close to the whitewashed stucco wall. After a few moments he said quietly, “I hear a few people talking, just barely. Can’t make out what they’re saying.”

Elsa nodded to herself, holding Sato’s keys in Lissa’s and James’s direction. “One of you open it,” she said in a near whisper. “I need my hands free for weapons.”

After exchanging a look with James, Lissa took the keychain. Elsa gave her a reassuring smile, then drew her pistol from its holster. Keeping the barrel pointed at the stone floor, Elsa switched off the safety and held the gun with both hands with her index finger above the trigger. She and Jack moved to opposite sides of the alcove to flank Lissa, who reached forward with the silver inverted triangle pendant dangling from her hand.

The smooth stucco seemed to ripple, and a narrow, old door appeared in the center of the alcove wall. It was made of simple wooden planks with iron strap hinges, and silently swung open a few inches on its own accord.

As she exchanged a look with Jack, Elsa realized she was holding her breath. Her mate frowned with concentration, then inhaled deeply. She heard faint male and female voices as she exhaled, then resumed breathing normally. The warm, humid air flowing from the space behind the door carried a hint of sulfur.

Jack raised his bent arm and sneezed into his elbow. 

“Bless you,” Lissa and James whispered.

Elsa grinned, amused. “Sulfur?”

Her mate nodded as he wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting," he confirmed quietly. "But I smell the same humans as before.” Jack placed one hand on the wooden door, then looked at Elsa, James, and Lissa in turn. “Ready?”

They nodded.

Jack pushed the door open and stepped through with Elsa close behind.

Chapter Text

James felt like he’d stepped into an Indiana Jones movie as he followed Lissa through the doorway at the rear of the chapel into warm and slightly sulfurous air. Fist-sized spots of light spaced every ten feet illuminated a tunnel with dark gray rock walls that gently curved to the right. Much of the tunnel seemed natural, although some parts—particularly the low ceiling—were rough-hewn. Even if James hadn’t had a magic-detection spell up, he’d have guessed that the light sources were magical. No wires snaked along the rock walls, nor was there flame or smoke. Whoever these Order people were, some of them were proficient in magic. James hoped that one of them might help him and his friends get home.

Elsa and Jack, who’d crept forward side by side, halted, prompting James and Lissa to follow suit. After exchanging a look with her mate, Elsa twisted around with her gun pointed at the rock floor. She met James’s eyes and whispered, “Close the door.” 

He did so, glad that the door’s hinges didn’t creak. When James turned back around, Lissa, who continued fidgeting with her coat’s sleeves, had stepped up to Jack and Elsa. James joined them.

Keeping her voice down, Elsa told him and Lissa, “We’ll keep moving forward like this. Stay about six feet behind us. Jack and I will subdue anyone we encounter.” She frowned, then said, “I wish we had rope or zip ties.”

Jack caught Elsa’s free hand with his. “We’ll manage, my love.”

“We will,” she agreed with a small smile. To Lissa and James she said, “We need to get the lay of the land and stay hidden. If possible we’ll question—”

James sighed more loudly than he’d intended, earning an unamused look from Elsa. “We could, you know, talk to them.”

“Not Philip or our parents!” Lissa hissed.

James nodded agreement, then turned to Jack. “How many other people are here, do you think?”

“At least ten more,” Jack replied, wrinkling his nose. “The sulfur in the air makes it hard to tell.”

“Sulfur,” Lissa repeated, gaining the others’ attention. The Latina was smiling slightly, which James was glad to see. “We might be near the Tușnad baths. They’re hot springs in Romania.”

Jack cocked his head. “The ones Philip and Mamá visited the first time they were together?”

Lissa nodded, and James frowned. “The first time?”

“Yeah,” Lissa confirmed with a wry grin. “Like I said, our family is soap-opera complicated.”

James shrugged, grateful that his immediate and extended family were boring in comparison. 

Jack stated, “I think Philip mentioned something about a volcanic lake in the mountains, too.” 

“That’s great,” Elsa huffed, peering down the tunnel which curved out of sight fifty feet ahead. “But let’s put the puzzle pieces together later, okay?”

James shook his head. “No.” He ignored Elsa’s scowl; his gut said that following Elsa’s lead would make matters worse. “We need to figure out why Laura is here now.” Turning to Lissa, he gestured at the guitar case slung across her back. “She brought her guitar here, right?”

“Yes,” she replied as Jack nodded.

James widened his gaze to include the others. “Why? From what I heard Philip say outside, he doesn’t want to be here, and ‘she’ doesn’t want to see him. Maybe they broke up, and he’s chasing after her.”

“He knows enough about the Order to come here,” Elsa said. “And to get past the warded gate and door.”

Jack inhaled sharply, and all eyes went to him. He turned to his sister. “He’s not a werewolf yet.”

Lissa blinked, surprised. “Nothing on radar?”

Jack shook his head, and James blew out a frustrated breath. Elsa chuckled, which added to the sorcerer’s aggravation. “You’re following this?!”

Elsa grinned. “Jack’s told me enough, so yes. It’s—”

“—complicated,” they all said with her and chuckled. The moment of levity was a welcome respite from the gravity of the situation.

Jack looked over his shoulder and cocked his head, listening. James, Lissa, and Elsa went quiet as they watched and waited. Moments later Jack raised one hand. In a barely audible whisper he warned, “Someone’s coming. One person.”

“You’re late,” a woman called, her American-accented voice bouncing off the tunnel’s stone walls. James wondered if the woman actually spoke English. He had no way of knowing with his translation spell active.

Elsa moved her pistol behind her back, prompting James to sigh again. Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode around his paranoid friend while ignoring her whispered protests. 

“Yeah,” James called ahead. “We got turned around on the way here.” The massive understatement made him grin.

A plump, dark-skinned woman with natural Black hair walked into view and stopped short. Her outfit reminded James of old photos of his mother and aunts in the late 1970s: a tan, camel-hair dress coat with wide lapels over purple polyester slacks and a blouse. Her wide-heeled boots made her an inch taller than James, who was the tallest of his short-statured group. She looked to be about his friends’ ages.

The anachronistic woman’s eyes flicked to James’s companions, then returned to him. “You speak Creole…” Her frown deepened as she studied him. “…and you’re a sorcerer.”

Considering the scoffs he’d heard at the New York Sanctum when he’d asked about “the Order,” James wasn’t surprised by the woman’s dismay. He decided to acknowledge her observation, but downplay it. “Yes, second year. I cast a translation spell because I figured all sorts of languages would be spoken here.” He smiled broadly, moving a few steps closer. “I don’t believe we’ve met. James Ellison.”

After considering him for a moment longer and glancing to her left, the woman smiled and closed the distance between them. “Kendra Turner,” she said and offered her hand. As they shook, Kendra peered over James’s shoulder, bemused. “Tell your friends I won’t bite. You’ve come all this way, after all.”

“Y’all, it’s—” James began as he twisted around, then cut himself off. Elsa looked daggers at him with her hand still behind her back. Jack managed a neutral expression while Lissa radiated unease. 

James gulped, then faced forward again. “They’re nervous. This is our first time here. Has it begun?”

Kendra nodded. “About five minutes ago.” Then she frowned at James and his friends behind him. “Where are your offerings? The Sanguinary won’t induct you without them. Your guide should have made that clear.”

“He did,” Lissa replied, and James nearly did a double take from her even voice. The Latina moved up to James’s right and extended her hand toward Kendra. “Lissa Price,” she continued as they shook hands. “We’d like to observe and meet some folks, if that’s all right?”

Kendra shrugged, and James withheld a sigh of relief. “I suppose. This is only my second visit. I was inducted at the last fall equinox.” She turned to James. “No offense, but I’m surprised that your guide gave you a key to attend. I don’t have a problem with sorcerers, but many members do. Foolish, in my opinion, since we’re striving for eukrasia and quintessence and you can reach into the Astral Dimension.”

The older woman’s statements sent James’s thoughts whirling. He nodded as if he understood, then gestured behind him to cover his confusion. “Lemme introduce our friends. Kendra, this—”

“—is my brother Jack Price,” Lissa interjected, “and his wife Elsa.”

James divided his attention between everyone. Jack’s smile seemed sincere, if tense, and Elsa’s plastered on. Kendra’s eyes flitted to James’s left, and her posture stiffened. 

“Tell your companion that’s far enough,” Jack stated.

Jack’s quiet declaration caught everyone off-guard. His mostly yellow eyes moved between the spot Kendra had looked at and the woman herself.

“Companion?” James asked.

Kendra grinned while a frowning Elsa whispered at Jack, whose eyes stayed on the presumably invisible companion. “You’re a medium, too,” Kendra said.

“No,” Jack returned, briefly glancing at Kendra. “But I sense things sometimes, like the being that accompanies you. You seem friendly and sincere. I hope your companion is as well.”

Kendra chuckled. “She is.”

Utterly at a loss, James glanced at Lissa. She met his eyes and shrugged.

“Meemaw’s overprotective, though,” Kendra continued, gesturing at where the being supposedly was, then met Elsa’s eyes. “She thinks you have a gun behind your back. Do you?”

Elsa’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“She does,” Lissa confirmed, and Elsa grumbled under her breath. “Because we’re afraid we’re walking into trouble.” She twisted to address Elsa. “But I don’t think we need it right now.”

The women’s eyes locked.

Jack said something very quietly to his mate. 

Elsa scowled, then shifted her motorcycle jacket to jam her pistol into the holster on her belt. “Happy?” she asked no one in particular.

“Getting there,” Kendra replied. She glanced at where Meemaw—her grandmother’s spirit, James presumed—supposedly was, then considered the lot of them. “Why are you here, really? No more bullshit.”

“It’s—” Elsa began with a hard edge to her voice. Jack interrupted with a few quiet words, and she stayed quiet.

Jack explained, “It was an accident. A spell gone wrong.”

Ignoring how his face had flushed, James added, “We don’t know where we are—Romania, maybe?—so when we saw a guy walking up the path to the chapel, we hid and watched. He went inside. We followed.”

Kendra nodded. Then she looked in Meemaw’s supposed direction and nodded again.

“Where’s she going?” Jack asked. James turned around to find his friend looking down the tunnel past Kendra.

“Back to the ceremony,” Kendra replied, “which you have no business attending. And yes, this is Romania. The Carpathian Mountains near Tușnad.”

“Tușnad,” Lissa and Jack echoed.

Kendra studied them for a long moment. “You’ve heard of it?”

Lissa gave the taller woman a nervous smile. “Some of our relatives are Romanian. They told us about the hot springs and volcanic lake.”

“Saint Anne Lake,” Kendra said, nodding.

James blinked as the puzzle pieces came together. “Saint Anne’s Chapel.” He frowned at the tunnel’s dark stone walls, then asked, “Are we in a volcano?”

After glancing over her shoulder in the direction her grandmother’s spirit had gone, Kendra replied, “An extinct one. These are old lava tubes. The Sangu—” She cut herself off. “You need to leave before anyone else realizes you’re here.”

Elsa strode up to James’s left with Jack on her heels. Keeping her voice down, she said, “An accident may have brought us here, but we still need answers. You mentioned a Sanguinary.” She gestured at Kendra and down the tunnel. “This is the Sanguine Order?”

Kendra’s expression hardened. “Just go. Please.”

Lissa fished something out of her coat pocket and thrust her hand toward Kendra. The silver and semiprecious stone ornament dangled from her closed fist. “Our… relative was part of this,” Lissa said in an urgent whisper. “We didn’t know until recently. There’s been, um, trouble. We’re investigating.”

Kendra frowned at the triangular pendant, then at Lissa. A moment later her eyes widened. “Laura Dimas. You look just like her.” The Black woman’s eyes focused on the top of the guitar case that extended above Lissa’s shoulder. “She brought a guitar, too.”

James glanced at the Latina. She looked as nervous as James felt. 

“Music runs in the family,” Lissa stated.

Kendra’s eyes narrowed further, and she looked at Lissa askance. “Are you… Laura? From the future?” She chuckled uncertainly before continuing. “I have to ask. Strange things have happened here.”

James broke into a huge grin. “Strange things? Is an energy vortex nearby?”

Although Kendra stayed quiet, the way her eyes had widened answered in the affirmative. 

“I’m not Laura,” Lissa said, earning everyone’s attention. With a bemused grin she continued, “We’re related, and—I can’t believe I’m about to say this—I’m from the future. We all are, and we’re trying to get home.”

Kendra’s brow furrowed as she considered Lissa’s words. “That would explain a lot.”

Elsa took a step toward the Black woman. “Take us to the vortex.” Jack moved up to Elsa’s side and murmured something, but she continued to stare down Kendra.

“No,” Kendra replied, unfazed. “You don’t belong here.”

Elsa glowered as Jack put an arm around her shoulders. He told Kendra, “Thank you for your help. We’ll find our way back.” Then he caught James’s eye, and James guessed at his meaning: they’d find the vortex themselves.

Elsa had shrugged off Jack’s arm and opened her mouth when muffled shouting carried down the tunnel. “…can have it back! I don’t want the damned thing. I need to talk to Laura!”

James recognized the baritone: Philip.

Lissa, Jack, and Elsa had already taken a few steps forward when Kendra threw her arms wide. “You can’t!” she hissed.

Elsa huffed a sigh. “We can and we will. Stand aside.”

“We won’t interfere with your ceremony,” Jack assured the taller woman, “and we’ll avoid our relatives. We just need to get close enough to the vortex to go home.”

Lissa turned to her brother. “It sounds like Philip is making a scene, so this might be our chance to get past whoever’s up there unnoticed.”

Kendra’s eyebrows shot up. “You know Philip?”

“Yes, Philip Russoff,” Elsa said impatiently. “Do you believe us now?”

After taking a deep breath, Kendra nodded and moved aside. 

Elsa and Jack rushed ahead with Lissa close behind. James lingered long enough to give Kendra grateful smile, then hurried to catch up.

***

Jack tried to focus on slow, even breaths as he crept down the rock tunnel beside his mate. Normally he appreciated her aggressive side, but in this situation it was potentially disastrous. Between keeping Elsa reined in, trying to manage Snow, making sure Lissa wasn’t panicking, and handling his own distress, Jack felt like he was being pulled in a dozen different directions. He was grateful that James and Lissa seemed to be rolling with the punches now.

The passage angled down and curved to the left. With each step the air grew warmer and more humid and sulfurous. Jack wanted to escape the suffocating atmosphere, and Snow even more so. Flickers of the wolf’s memories of running through snowy forest with his mate and young clashed with the present, sending Jack’s thoughts spinning as subtle eddies of energy curled around them. Those sensations kept them with their mate and friends. Jack prayed the vortex they’d just entered was strong enough to allow James to get them back home.

“We’re in the energy vortex,” James whispered. 

Jack nodded absently; most of his attention was divided between Snow and looking and listening ahead for any Sanguine Order members.

One of Elsa’s hands caught his. “Amor? You okay?” 

“We’re okay,” Jack assured her with a quick smile. They continued forward, hands clasped.

Sounds of a scuffle, then rapid footsteps drawing away carried down the tunnel. Elsa and Jack picked up their pace. Behind them Jack heard Lissa and James keeping up as well as James muttering, presumably casting some sort of spell. Multiple people’s voices sounded from further ahead.

The tunnel straightened, then abruptly forked into two narrower passages. They stopped at the junction, looking and listening as Jack took a deep breath. The magical lights continued down the right-hand tunnel, as did the Order members’ scent trails.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” a woman shouted, her voice bouncing off the rock walls to the right.

Jack turned to his sister. “Mamá,” they whispered in unison.

He’d taken a step toward the right tunnel before he’d realized he’d made the decision. Elsa’s hand on his arm stopped him.

Multiple voices, some irate, carried to their ears. “How did he—”

“—finish the ceremony! This is appalling. I—”

“—Sanguinary doing something? Where—”

“—please, Laura. Two minutes, and I won’t bother you again.”

All four of them exchanged looks. Philip seemed to be the closest of the speakers.

James gestured at the dark left tunnel, whispering, “That way. Come on!”

“But it’s pitch black and we don’t know where it goes!” Lissa protested.

The sorcerer made a quick, fluid motion with his left hand. A glowing ball similar to those lighting the tunnels floated just above his palm. “Problem solved,” he grinned. 

“I don’t need much light, so I’ll go first,” Jack said as he turned toward the left tunnel. “Give me a minute or two, then follow.”

Elsa nodded, leaned up to kiss his cheek, then stood beside James.

Jack moved down the left tunnel as quickly as he could while staying quiet. Heading away from Mamá’s and Philip’s voices after not having heard them for so long took willpower. 

The tunnel began sloping up as light from James’s spell and sounds of the others’ footsteps caught up with Jack. The grade steepened, and Jack heard multiple muffled conversations ahead. The end of the tunnel must be close.

Moments later dim light filtered into the tunnel from ahead. Since he didn’t hear anything immediately ahead, Jack continued forward until he saw the exit. The passage opened into a large and roughly ovoid chamber. Although he didn’t see any of the glowing orbs directly ahead, several must be below the tunnel’s mouth; light filtered from that direction.

As Jack stopped to wait for the others, he heard his mother’s voice again. “…believe you’re doing this!” Her loud whisper and sounded close by. “It’s over, Philip. I’m surprised you’d leave your precious workshop to—”

Bright light shone behind Jack as Lissa rushed up to him, casting a long shadow. “Is that Mamá?” she breathed. Elsa and James were right behind her.

Jack nodded as turned to squint at James, whispering, “Shut it off!” By the time he’d faced forward the light had winked out.

“…done, I know, Laura,” Philip returned wearily. “You don’t have to come with me, but please, don’t do this!”

“Why?” Mamá challenged. Jack withheld a chuckle; she and Lissa were so alike. “Alchemy is superstitious nonsense, right? Even though you used your mother’s pendant to get in here.” She and Philip seemed to be below them and to the right.

Lissa crept a few steps forward. Elsa caught up to her, then looked a question over her shoulder at Jack.

After a moment’s hesitation, he joined them with James close behind. They probably should stay back to prevent discovery, but Philip, Mamá, Papá, and the Order were right there.

They found the mouth of the tunnel deep in shadow and about fifteen feet above the uneven floor of the chamber. The opening was barely wide enough for Jack, Elsa, and Lissa to stand side by side.  James stood behind Jack and peered over his shoulder. Again Elsa’s hand slipped into Jack’s. He clutched it tightly, grateful for the quiet reassurance.

A diverse array of men and women—about thirty total—stood around a circular stone dais in the middle of the underground room. Jack knew he should be scanning the crowd for possible threats like guards and any obvious magic, but he found himself staring at one of the two men on the dias: his father. Papá, who wore a suit with no tie, looked to be about ten years younger than Jack was. Although their facial features were similar, Papá had wider shoulders and an overall larger frame. An acoustic guitar lay at his feet. Beside it was a jar containing a dark liquid with a thin wooden handle sticking out.

Standing in the center of the dais was a slender, gray-haired Asian man. His clothing resembled Papá’s with the exception of the colorful sash that looped behind his neck. Three of its four equal-width stripes that paralleled the length of the fabric matched the colors of the Order’s silver and gemstone pendants: yellow, red, and blue. The remaining stripe was white.

The Asian man whom Jack presumed was the Sanguinary, Papá, and nearly everyone else peered generally in Jack’s direction, but down. Jack stood on tiptoes and leaned to the right and was rewarded with a partial, overhead view of Philip and Mamá standing against the rock wall. They had quite the audience.

“It’s dangerous, Laura!” Philip insisted, keeping his voice down and still wearing his Members Only jacket. “This elemental magic stuff doesn’t make sense. You—”

Mamá flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder just like Lissa did. She’d only been 39 when she’d died, so she’d always looked young to Jack. Now with a wool coat over her long, embroidered skirt and matching peasant blouse she looked like a defiant, determined teenager. “So you admit it’s real now, hmm? You’re afraid because you don’t understand it?”

“I don’t know! It’s just—” Philip ran one hand through his not-yet-receding blond hair in frustration. “My gut says that nothing good will come from this.”

Mamá laughed. “Philip Russoff is listening to his gut. This is rich!”

“Miss Dimas,” a deep voice called from the middle of the chamber. All eyes turned to the Sanguinary. “Do you wish to continue?”

“Yes,” she replied, her soprano seeming to fill the room. 

Jack craned his neck to watch his mother and stepfather. Mamá gave Philip a sad smile. “Goodbye, Philip.” Then she turned away and strode toward the dais.

In his peripheral vision Jack noticed Lissa’s and Elsa’s gazes follow Mamá’s path, but he couldn’t look away from the young man who’d become an uncle in a few years, and later a stepfather and Jack’s alpha. Although they’d butted heads more often than not, Jack was grateful Philip had been in his life. The reactivated werewolf curse should have ruined Philip's and Papá’s lives, but they hadn’t let that happen. Loyal to their family, they handled it and kept going.

Philip watched Mamá walk away with a resigned, detached expression that Jack recognized from 24 years in the past—Jack’s past—after Mamá had died. As a young boy Jack had watched his mother grieve his father’s death, not that he’d fully understood it then. Now, mated with Elsa, he did. The pain and loss would be excruciating.

“Hermano,” Lissa whispered. Jack smelled her tears before seeing them on her anxious face. “They’re not werewolves yet. We could stop it here.”

Elsa tightened her grip on Jack’s hand. He squeezed it in return.

James leaned in with an alarmed look on his face. “You said you didn’t want to interfere so you don’t Back-to-the-Future yourselves!”

“We wouldn’t break them up!” Lissa shot back. “They’re not even together yet. We just need to keep Papá from reading the Darkhold.”

James’s eyes went wide as saucers. “He read the Darkhold?!” His exclamation echoed off of the rock walls and across the chamber.

Thirty pairs of eyes turned to them, including the Sanguinary’s. “Who’s there?” he called.

After exchanging alarmed looks, the group retreated down the tunnel with Elsa in the lead. They arrived at the juncture to find five people—three of them tall, broad-shouldered men—blocking the tunnel leading to the chapel. Jack turned to the tunnel that led to the chamber in time to see several men and women including the Sanguinary reach the juncture. “Who read the Darkhold?” the imposing man demanded.

Jack barely heard the question; most of his attention was on his father, who stood on the Sanguinary’s right a mere eight feet away. He drew a deep breath and caught Papá’s scent mingled with the others’.

“No one!” James blurted, and Elsa stomped on his foot. “Ow!”

The Sanguinary frowned at James. “Do you have the Darkhold, sorcerer?”

“Hell no!”

Papá stepped forward. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

Elsa’s hand grasped Jack’s, which helped him stay put. He wanted to rush up to Papá, and Snow wanted to find Philip, whom the wolf had known as his alpha.

James loosed a nervous laugh. “It’s my fault. My spell messed up and brought us here. Seriously, I had no idea y’all had a thing going on.”

A few people in the group behind Papá and the Sanguinary laughed. Jack didn’t see Philip or Mamá among them. “You expect us to believe that?” an olive-skinned man scoffed.

“I do,” said a woman’s voice behind them. Jack looked over his shoulder to find Kendra and a slender, twenty-something Black woman in a 1920s-style dress and short hair standing beside her. The woman who could have stepped out of The Great Gatsby cast no shadow and had no scent. Jack sensed the same presence he had earlier; surely this was Meemaw.

“Mee— Octavia and I discovered them earlier,” Kendra explained. “They need the vortex to get home.”

The Sanguinary stepped up to Papá’s side with one hand extended and his eyes focused on something far away. He slowly walked toward James, murmuring, “Such power from a young sorcer—” He cut himself off and halted. “No.” He turned toward Elsa with his fingers probing the air. “Fire and…” 

Realizing he was growling, Jack willed himself to stop.

“That’s far enough, Sanguinary,” Elsa declared, her last word dripping disdain. “One step closer and I’ll put you in the ER.”

The older man smirked, unconcerned. “…quintessence.”

The other Order members gasped.

A cool smile spread across the Sanguinary’s face. “Give me the magical object you’re carrying,” he told Elsa, “and I’ll help you get home.”

Jack nearly laughed as he tensed his muscles. The Order’s leader had no idea who he was dealing with.

To his surprise, Elsa glanced up at him with a sheepish smile and whispered “Sorry.”

He’d cocked his head at her, baffled, when Elsa darted forward. She dropped to the ground and slid toward the Sanguinary and Papá, sweeping their legs out from under them before they’d realized what was happening. As they went down in a heap chaos erupted: multiple shouts and people rushing in all directions. 

“Portal, James!” Elsa barked as she scrambled back to them. “Now!” She and Jack stood back-to-back, warily watching the confusion around them.

The hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stood up; he and Snow sensed magic all around them. The Sanguinary wasn’t back on his feet yet, so several others in the group now surrounding them must be magic-proficient as well.

“Where?!?” James, standing at Jack’s right shoulder, yelped.

Lissa’s arm shot up. “Above us!” she shouted.

Nodding frantically, James slipped his sling ring on his left hand and got to work. 

Jack smelled ozone from the fledgling portal’s sparks as he parried the first Order member who’d attacked: a pale-skinned bald man who was as stocky as Jack was slight. He was strong, but not skilled. Snow snarled, excited and eager to fight. 

He caught his attacker’s latest punch, twisted his arm behind his back, and pulled until the man screamed. Then Jack kicked the man across the few feet between him and the ring of Order members surrounding them, sending several of them to the ground. He felt and heard Elsa fighting behind him and wished he could see it. 

“Anyone have a ladder?” James quipped.

Jack grinned at his friend before he looked up. A fiery, six-foot-diameter circle led to what looked like the field outside the chapel. “Lissa!” Jack called, lacing his fingers together and crouching down. “You first.”

His sister frowned at his cupped hands, up at the portal, and back, then gulped. “Here goes.” The moment Jack felt her full weight, he tossed her straight up. Lissa’s shout abruptly quieted as she went through the magical gateway.

Elsa grunted from her booted foot connecting with a strong young woman’s head. Her attacker wobbled, stunned. Jack shoved her back as his mate regained her balance. 

Suddenly Elsa was clawing at the collar of her motorcycle jacket. She lurched away as if being pulled by an invisible force. Jack grabbed her waist since both of her hands were just above her collar, holding the heavy gold chain bearing the Bloodstone in its ornate gold setting. The glowing red gem slipped out of her shirt and away from them before the chain went taut. Jack’s eyes followed the direction in which the red stone had moved: straight to the Sanguinary’s outstretched hand. The older man was back on his feet and glaring at them, much like Papá.

“Fuck. You,” Elsa spat at the Sanguinary. To Jack she said, “Get James out of here. Then it’s our turn.”

“But—”

“I’ll manage,” she insisted as adjusted her stance. “Hurry!”

Jack reluctantly let go of his mate and was grateful to see her keep her footing. He’d pivoted toward James when he heard Elsa’s gasp and the quiet groan of metal bending.

Acting on instinct, Jack lunged at the Bloodstone, praying he’d grab its chain. His fingers closed around metal and no pain surged through him; he’d managed it, although he felt the gem’s foreboding energy. The gold links that had failed made a quiet tinkling sound as they hit the ground. He barely heard it over his growl.

“What are you?” Papá asked, looking at Jack askance.

Again Jack was tempted to laugh. As he clung to a chain bearing a magical gem that probably could kill him, the man who’d be Jack’s father in a few years and would awaken the family curse a few years later wanted to know what he was.

“Your blood relative,” Elsa replied. 

James gasped, “Elsa!” as Jack nearly lost his grip on the heavy necklace. 

Jack turned his head to find his mate struggling to keep hold of her end of the broken gold chain. 

Papá barked a laughed. “Right.”

To Jack’s horror, Elsa said, “The Russoff werewolf curse—”

“Elsa, no!” Jack hissed.

“—is real.”

Between the humid, sulfurous air, the ozone from the portal still yawning above them, the Bloodstone being inches from his fingers, and his father being his adversary, Jack’s head was spinning. “What are you doing?!?”

Elsa’s eyes were bright with tears. “Freeing you and Snow.” With a sad smile she turned to Papá. “Stop researching the curse. It’s dormant. Leave it be.”

Papá stared open-mouthed. “How could you…”

The ominous energy radiating from the gem intensified. Jack’s ears rang, the sound overpowering his father’s words. Inside him Snow, desperate to escape, fought for control. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to hold on.

The Bloodstone’s glow shone through Jack’s eyelids as the ringing turned to a shriek. He felt the chain go limp, and gravity pulled the Bloodstone down. Its cool surface touched his skin, sparking a lightning storm of pain that chased consciousness away.

Chapter Text

Consciousness returned slowly. Jack’s head was muzzy and everything was dark and too warm. Were his eyes closed? Why did he smell wood smoke? James had put out the campfire—

The events of the past several hours rushed back in a chaotic jumble. “Elsa! Lissa! James!” Jack shouted, or tried to. The words came out closer to a croak as he struggled to sit up and wrench his eyes open.

A pair of hands gently but firmly pushed him back down onto pillows and a soft mattress. “Shh, shh,” a woman said. “Nu prea repede.” 

“¿Qué? What?” Jack asked as he laid back. As her hands withdrew he wondered why he hadn’t heard or smelled her sooner. 

Finally Jack’s eyes opened halfway. The room was bright, but everything was blurry.

The woman said in slow, accented Spanish, “Take it slow. The doctor said it will take some time for the drugs to wear off.”

Adrenaline surged. “What drugs? Who are you?” Jack demanded in Spanish. “ELSA!” 

Shouting was a mistake; his head throbbed now. He groaned and rolled on his right side, which also was a mistake. His knee and shoulder were stiff and achy and his hip sore. A quieter, more subtle ache was buried deep in his chest. What the hell?

A door creaked on hinges several feet away. The woman said, “Trae a Laura. ¡Apurarse!” Footsteps hurried away until the door closed, muffling the retreating footfalls.

Laura.

The woman had said Laura.

A fragile hope bloomed. Maybe Elsa’s gambit had worked.

After rolling on to his back, Jack rubbed his eyes and tried opening them again, ignoring the pain from his right shoulder. His vision was only hazy now, revealing a fair-skinned brunette standing at the foot of his bed. Although he coudn’t make out details, she seemed to be wearing a plain, light-colored pantsuit, which contrasted with the palette of the room. The sunlight streaming through tall, narrow windows lit walls of dark-stained wood and stone. The bed he lay in looked like something out of a movie: huge with a pile of pillows, a fluffy white duvet, and a column of dark, carved wood at each corner. Flames snapped and crackled in the fireplace in the middle of the far wall. 

The woman grinned. “You seem to be coming around,” she said in Spanish. “Good.”

“I… don’t remember you,” Jack ventured.

She moved closer, then sat on the edge of the bed a respectful distance away. “Ramona. I’m your assistant, and nurse when you need one.” Her nearly in-focus visage smiled. “Like now.”

Jack managed a small smile in return. “Ramona,” he repeated, wondering if his virtual assistant Pedro worked for him as well here. Was here reality or a dream? How could he tell the difference?

“Two years ago you were badly injured in an ice climbing accident. Since then—”

“Ice climbing?” Jack echoed.

Ramona nodded, looking a bit impatient. “Yes. It was your passion at the time. You’re lucky to be able to walk and not have serious brain damage.”

“But I can heal from…” Jack’s words trailed off as realization dawned: he was human. One hundred percent human. That’s why he hadn’t smelled Ramona or heard her heartbeat, and why the wood smoke from the fire seemed faint. It was why his right side hurt; he was as healed as he could get from the accident. 

It was why Snow was utterly silent.

Jack wondered if the wolf had lived out his life with his mate and pack. He hoped so, and that Night had as well.

Movement from Ramona brought Jack back to the present. The fifty-something woman tilted her head and peered at him curiously. “This is new.”

“New?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “You have spells of amnesia from the accident. It’s mostly under control now, but stress exacerbates it.” Jack blinked at her, dismayed. “We’ve had this conversation before. You usually say the same things and alternate between Spanish and Romanian.”

“I speak Romanian,” Jack murmured.

Ramona gave him a sad smile as she nodded at his head. “It’s in there somewhere.”

Jack nearly chuckled. She couldn’t be more wrong, but he wasn’t about to correct her.

Feeling steadier now, he pushed himself to a sitting position. The sheet and duvet fell away, and Jack realized he was naked except for a pair of boxers. Unconcerned, he extended his arms and observed his human self. 

The diagonal scars Prescott had raked across his chest were gone. A dozen smaller scars took their place with most of them on the right side of his torso. His right shoulder and upper arm were more scar tissue than skin in some places. Many of those scars were perfectly straight, likely from surgery. The sight was jarring.

Other than the scars and a few tattoos that he’d examine some other time, his body looked the same: tan skin over lean muscle.

“Now you’re worrying me, Jacob,” Ramona said. “What—”

Jack rounded on her. “What did you call me?”

The brunette looked at him askance. “Jacob. Your name.”

Jack nodded dumbly. A dozen questions came to mind, but he didn’t voice them; doing so would make him seem crazier than he already did. Instead Jack said, “I need my phone and my wallet.”

Ramona’s frown deepened. “You need to rest, Jacob.”

“Phone and wallet!” Jack snapped and instantly regretted his tone. “Please. I’ll stay here and rest.” Although the muzziness in his head had cleared, he generally felt awful. Resting while he gathered information seemed prudent.

After shaking her head at him, Ramona stood and crossed the room. Jack followed with his eyes, taking in the elegant, formal decor that reminded him of that in Bloodstone Manor, which neither he nor Elsa liked. Surely this was his father’s castle. Was this his bedroom? Where was Elsa? Was she safe? The ache in his chest grew stronger.

“Jacob.”

Jack startled and found Ramona standing again at his bedside, peering at him worriedly. An iPhone and a leather wallet were in her outstretched hands. He retrieved them with a thank you.

He’d intended to inspect the wallet first, but the phone seemed to turn on by itself. Perhaps it had unlocked when it detected his face. In any case, the device provided a wealth of information at a glance. Although the text was Romanian, the meaning of some of it was obvious. It was 13:12 on “24 octombrie 2023”—October 24th of last year. He was ten months in the past!

Judging from the “148” in a red circle, the messaging app had lots of new texts. Jack ignored them, although he wondered how many were in Romanian. 

Behind all of the icons was a photo of the bow of a kayak cutting through whitewater in a lush, forested gorge. Perhaps he—the other him—had taken it.

Jack was about to set the phone aside when he caught his transparent reflection on the touchscreen. He looked pretty much the same other than his hair being a bit longer and completely dark.

Other him dyed his hair? He’d started going gray in his thirties, for crying out loud. Why fight it? And Elsa said she liked it and—

Elsa. Thoughts of his mate prompted longing and worry. The ache in his chest pulsed momentarily. He hoped she was a contact in his phone, but wasn’t about to check with Ramona right there.

Two sets of approaching footsteps carried through the wooden door, so Jack set the phone aside and flipped the wallet open. One of the things he was looking for was visible through a clear plastic window: a driver’s license.

Although the design and details were different, Romanian driver’s licenses were similar to American ones. He looked younger in the small, black-and-white picture due to his dyed hair and clean-shaven face. The photo was flattering, actually, and—wait, were his teeth straight? Jack squinted at the tiny image. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter. His name and address did.

Jacob Javier Russoff
Castel Russoff
Strada Pe Cetate
Mediaș, Romania

His home address was a castle now. ¡Puta madre!

His birthday hadn’t changed, at least.

A familiar soprano carried through the door. “Sună-l pe dr. Albescu. Acest episod sună ca unul rău.” Jack twisted to face it, holding his breath in anticipation.

“Da doamnă,” a man replied. His footsteps retreated.

The door swung open, and Jack tried to not gape at his gray-haired mother, now in her early sixties, still slender and wearing a well-tailored blouse and slacks. The light makeup she wore couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes; Mamá looked exhausted. Jack wanted to rush up to her, hug her, and smell her scent, which he couldn’t detect even from ten feet away. As disconcerting as that was, Jack broke into a huge smile. “Mamá!”

Mamá smiled back even as her brow furrowed. “Jacob, cum te simti?” 

“Español, por favor, Mamá,” Jack replied.

She nodded as she strode up to his bedside, exchanging a worried look with Ramona, who had moved a few steps back. Mamá asked in Spanish “How are you feeling, Jacob?” as she sat and pulled him into a hug.

Jack returned it, ignoring the discomfort from his stiff, sore shoulder as he breathed his mother’s scent. Tears welled; it had been so long since he’d last been with her. Twenty years earlier their roles had been reversed. Mamá had been in a hospital bed due to the car accident Jack still blamed himself for.

“Jacob?” Mamá prompted, pulling back slightly.

Blinking back tears, he replied, “Better.” It was the truth in some respects. Mamá was alive in this reality or timeline or wherever Jack was, and he was human. Now he had to figure out who this version of him was and find Elsa, Lissa, and James. 

Mamá kissed his cheek, then sat back and took his free hand in both of hers. She nodded at the wallet in his other hand. “Please don’t tell me you were trying to get up and go somewhere. You can’t drive in this condition.”

“No, no,” Jack assured her. “I just needed to check something.” He set the wallet aside, put his hand over hers, and gazed at his mother. “I missed you.” Her worried frown returned, so Jack hurried to add, “You look exhausted. You need to rest, too.”

Mamá gulped, then turned to Ramona. The women had a brief exchange in Romanian, much to Jack’s annoyance. Learning that language clearly was one of the first things he needed to do. He only understood a handful of the words they said, one of which was his father’s name. 

When Mamá said “Gregory” a second time, Jack interrupted. “Papá’s here?” The thought of both of his parents being alive seemed to be too much to ask.

To Jack’s surprise, Mamá pulled her hands back and covered her face. A sob shook her slight frame.

Jack put his arm around her while ignoring the discomfort from the movement. “I’m sorry, Mamá,” he murmured while looking a question at Ramona.

His assistant seemed to be on the brink of tears as well. “His funeral was this morning,” she said quietly. “You were there. We all were.”

Stunned, Jack simply nodded and held his mother as she cried. 

Something about Ramona’s answer nagged at Jack. He realized what as his mother’s tears started to slow. After catching Ramona’s eye, Jack mouthed, “Where’s Lissa?”

Ramona’s eyes went wide as she shook her head rapidly. Although her reaction added to Jack’s confusion, he nodded and stayed quiet as a knot formed in his stomach. What had happened to Lissa?

Mamá straightened with a chagrinned half smile. “I’m sorry, Jacob. You’re in the middle of an episode, and I—”

“Mamá,” Jack interjected. “It’s okay. You’re grieving, and—”

“As are you!”

Again Jack nodded, feeling oddly guilty because he wasn’t grieving. How could he grieve a man he’d hardly known? Jack scrubbed one hand over his face. Everything was so messed up! 

Knuckles rapped on the wooden door. Jack startled since he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Between not knowing which way was up in this reality and the loss of his wolf-enhanced senses Jack felt exposed and vulnerable. Mamá must have noticed his unease because she took one of his hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Baron Russoff? Doamnă Russoff?” the same man from earlier said. “Doctorul Albescu este aici.”

Baffled, Jack looked from his mother to Ramona and back again. “The funeral was this morning.”

Mamá fought tears before replying. “You’re the baron now, Jacob.” After squeezing his hand again, she turned to the door and said something in Romanian. 

He was vaguely aware of a white-haired, suited man entering the room. Jack clung to his mother’s hand, too stunned to do more than that and trying to ignore the growing ache in his chest.

Chapter Text

Elsa wasn’t a contact in his phone. 

Neither were Lissa and James.

Still laying in Jacob Russoff’s bed, Jack resisted the urge to throw the device against the stone wall of the bedroom, which felt more like a prison at the moment. As he focused on drawing steady, even breaths, he almost regretted turning down Dr. Albescu’s offer of a sedative. 

Albescu, Ramona, and Mamá had left a few minutes earlier to let Jack sleep, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Once he’d calmed his whirling thoughts and dealt with the ache that had built in his chest, he’d get to work on his—Jacob’s—phone.

Despite the shock of the past half hour, Jack had noticed that the pulses of dull pain happened when he thought of Elsa. Not thinking of his mate was not an option; finding her was his highest priority. Since he was human now and still feeling the effects of the mating bond—which they hadn’t fully explored before everything went pear-shaped—Jack presumed she was suffering as well. Once they were reunited, they’d find James and Lissa and figure out how to live in this world.

 Jack’s heart seemed to constrict in his chest, prompting him to curl in on himself. How could he deal with this without thinking of his mate, which made it worse?

His stomach rumbled. Jack focused on that and found himself able to straighten and sit up in bed. His heartache was still there sitting heavily behind his breastbone, but it was tolerable. The situation was oddly reminiscent of the days following his eighteenth birthday when the Russoff werewolf curse had activated. He’d gotten through that awful week because he had to, and not just for himself. His family needed him, and he needed them. They’d supported each other—Lissa and Jack and Philip—while Mamá was in the hospital and he’d struggled with being a werewolf during the nights of the full moon for the first time. 

Focusing on the immediate and the repetitive motions of exercise had helped tremendously then. He hoped it would help now.

Thankfully most of the castle’s staff spoke at least a little English. After a few awkward phone calls with the old-fashioned landline phone on Jacob’s mahogany nightstand, a servant brought a platter bearing huevos rancheros, coffee, and the other items he’d requested to his room. Asking for vanilla beans, a tin of Earl Grey tea, and sage had probably started a good amount of gossip, not that Jack cared. 

Dressed in some of the Nike activewear he’d found in Jacob’s wardrobe, Jack poured some of the loose, bergamot-scented tea leaves, dried sage, and vanilla beans in the middle of a silk handkerchief. The scents, despite seeming weak due to his now-human nose, eased the ache in his chest. After twisting together the square of light blue silk that nearly matched the blouse Elsa had worn on their first date and securing it with a shoelace, Jack pressed the sachet to his nose and breathed deeply. The aroma was a poor imitation of his mate’s complex scent, but better than nothing. The invisible bands around his heart loosened a little further.

As Jack ate the expertly prepared huevos rancheros at the desk near one of the tall, narrow windows, he switched his phone’s language to Spanish and got to work. A Google search for “Jacob Russoff” resulted in hundreds of thousands of hits. Adding “Romania” narrowed the results to those about other him, which still numbered in the tens of thousands.

The top search result was a news story about Jacob’s ice climbing accident in March 2021. He and three friends had been climbing Repentance Super in the Italian Alps when a few of the ice screws failed. All four fell but survived due to their ropes and safety gear. Jacob sustained the worst injuries, all to his right side when he’d slammed into a lower part of the frozen waterfall after the rope had gone taut and he’d swung wildly. He’d been in a coma for a week.

The accident was big news because Jacob had been a striker for the Romania national football team from 1999 until a knee injury forced him to retire in 2010. They’d won the 2006 World Cup! 

Between fame from his football career and being born into wealth and nobility, Jacob had remained a low-level celebrity. He’d traveled the world, dabbled in various extreme sports, and sporadically performed with an array of famous musicians to raise money for charity. Despite dozens of photos of Jacob posing with different attractive women, he didn’t seem to have been married or have children. Thankfully no salacious, scandalous stories had turned up either.

Jack set the phone aside, closed his eyes, and sat back in the desk chair’s supple leather. As he gazed at the clear blue sky on the other side of the leaded glass window, he considered the charmed life this version of him had lived until the accident in 2021 had dampened it somewhat. Jacob was rich, famous, presumably had some power due to being a baron—whatever that entailed—and didn’t turn into a monster three days of each month. His mother was still alive, and probably Philip. 

 Jacob had nearly everything Jack would have wanted as a teenager before the werewolf curse had activated. The only things missing were his father and his first love Riya, whom he wouldn’t look up out of loyalty to Elsa. He only wanted his mate.

The dull pain in Jack’s chest grew stronger. Inhaling the sachet’s almost-Elsa scent eased it.

Grimacing from his messed-up right side, Jack stood and took a better look through the window at the countryside. Some of it he recognized from the memory of his father he’d revisited several hours earlier in a timeline that may or may not exist now. A combination of modern structures and rustic, slate-roofed buildings surrounded the castle that was his residence. Farms, pastures, and forest bearing the last of autumn’s bright foliage extended away from the large town. Jack’s eyes followed a river through them into the mountains, which he supposed were the Carpathians where Snow and Night had lived with their pack.

Jack smiled wistfully; he missed the wolf. Without Snow’s sometime subtle, sometimes overwhelming presence, Jack felt oddly empty. Finding Elsa would help, and Lissa and James, and of course Ted. He put the sachet to his nose again and smiled; he knew exactly where to find his best friend in the Everglades.

Knuckles rapped lightly on the polished wooden door of his room. “Jacob?” Ramona called.

Jack smiled. Ramona would make navigating his new normal easier in many respects but harder in others. “Come in,” he replied in Spanish as he turned around.

His assistant/nurse opened the door, stuck her head in, and blinked at him. “Ești treaz!” she said, then “You’re up!” in Spanish. 

Jack nodded as she let herself in and closed the door behind her. “I thought you were going to let me sleep,” he grinned.

The older woman shook her head at him. “When Constantin told me you’d requested food, I was pretty sure you weren’t sleeping.” She gave him a concerned smile. “It’s been a tough day at the end of a tough week. I wanted to check on you.”

“Thanks,” Jack said sincerely, trying to not fidget too much with the sachet in his right hand. “I’m feeling better, but still don’t remember much.” Inspiration struck, so Jack voiced the idea. “Would you show me around? I only remember parts of this place.” It was the truth; he remembered a balcony and a handful of rooms from when he was a boy.

Ramona studied him for a long moment. “It’ll be a lot of stairs. I’ll get you a Vicodin.” 

“Wait,” Jack said as he held one hand up. “I think I’ll be okay without it.” If he’d learned anything from being a werewolf, it was how to handle pain.

Grinning wryly, Ramona shook her head again. “Pigheaded, just like your fath—” She winced and added, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jack assured her as he resisted the urge to breathe in the almost-Elsa scent from the sachet. Ramona calling him pigheaded had reminded him of his mate. “Sometimes not remembering is a blessing.”

Again Ramona studied him. Jack wondered how much differently other him behaved and resolved to look for videos later. “All right,” she conceded. “But I’m bringing some with us in case you change your mind.”

“Fair enough,” Jack said as he tucked his sachet in a pocket of his track pants. Ramona noticed but didn’t comment. 

Castle Russoff was smaller than Jack thought it would be; about half the size of Bloodstone Manor and a quarter of the footprint. Multiple stone staircases connected six floors, the top two of which only existed in a handful of turrets. A small elevator serviced the bottom three floors, which Jack found impressive. He couldn’t imagine the engineering required to add an elevator to a medieval castle.

Ramona looked at Jack like he’d grown a second head when he’d insisted on taking the stairs, but acquiesced. It was a good test of his human body, particularly his compromised right side. Overall he felt weaker with less stamina, and his right hip and knee complained more loudly the longer they walked. He was glad that Jacob had stayed in shape despite his injuries.

They stepped on to the balcony off of the library shortly before sunset. The view of the Romanian countryside was as stunning at it had been when his father had held him as a little boy on that cold autumn day. Having recently relived that memory with Elsa and Lissa prompted a wave of homesickness and longing that twisted his heart. 

Jack gasped from the intense ache, stumbling against the stone wall beside the still-opened door for support. Alarmed, Ramona fawned over Jack as he pulled the sachet from his pocket and pressed it to his nose. Its vanilla, citrus, and sage halved the pain immediately.

Ramona talked at Jack in agitated Romanian as she snatched the silk bundle away. He snarled, caught her wrist, and snatched the sachet back with his free hand. She gaped at him with fear-widened eyes, and Jack let go. 

Not returning the sachet to his nose took willpower, but he managed. Grimacing from the ache in his chest and his sore joints, Jack straightened as Ramona took a few steps back. She kept a wary eye on him as she moved to the door and pushed it shut. “You’re not well, Jacob.”

Jack smiled mirthlessly. “I’ve been better.”

“What’s in that?” she asked, nodding at the sachet in his left hand.

“Spices,” Jack replied. “Tea.”

Ramona blinked at him. “Spices and tea.” Her eyes flicked to the silk crumpled in his hand, then back to his face. “If you took some sort of drug, please tell me what it is. I don’t care if it’s illegal. I want you to get better, and not just for your duties as the baron.”

Jack frowned. “What sort of duties?”

His assistant pursed her lips and sighed. Apparently they’d been over this before. “Mostly ceremonial, like participating in the festival tomorrow.”

“Festival?”

“Echinocțiul de Toamnă,” Ramona replied. When he looked back blankly, she said in Spanish, “Autumnal Equinox.”

Jack nodded despite having no idea what a Romanian baron might do at a fall equinox festival. He’d conjure an excuse to get out of it. Between studying up on Jacob, learning Romanian, and trying to track down Elsa, Lissa, and James, he had his work cut out for him. For now he assured his assistant, “I haven’t taken any drugs.”

“You’re behaving like you have.”

Jack shrugged which his right shoulder didn’t appreciate, then moved to the crenelated wall bounding the balcony. He gazed at the silver of the river disappearing into the mountains in the east. Forty years earlier he, Snow, Elsa, Lissa, and James had spent a short time there. His heart ached again, so he focused on drawing even breaths and feeling the rough-hewn stone under his hands. The pain slowly ebbed. “What’s the river’s name?” he asked quietly.

Ramona, standing a respectful distance to his left, replied, “Târnava Mare.”

“Do I swim in it?”

Feeling the woman’s eyes on him, Jack turned to face her. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Jack shook his head.

“Yes, often since the accident. Kayaking as well. It’s easier for you with your knee and hip.”

Memories of swimming in a Kentucky river with Elsa a month ago—a year from now, in a sense—surrounded by fireflies surfaced. Tears pricked at Jack’s eyes as his chest ached, so he put the sachet to his nose again and breathed. Ramona watched skeptically but didn’t comment, and Jack was grateful.

After returning the silk bundle to his pocket, Jack met the woman’s dark eyes. They were kind and worried. “Tell me about Lissa,” he said.

Ramona’s expression grew pained. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know much. When I started working for you, others here told me to never bring up your sister. It’s an unspoken rule. So I didn’t dig. It’s not my business anyway.”

Jack frowned, equally frustrated and worried. “Then tell me what you do know.” Ramona’s brow furrowed. “Please.”

“I think there was a sudden cut-off sometime before you hired me.”

“When was that?”

“2011.”

Jack recalled the short timeline of Jacob’s life he’d assembled earlier. “After I retired.”

Ramona smiled, pleased. “Thank goodness you remember that much.”

Jack smiled wryly. He had a lot more cramming to do. 

“That’s all I know, Jacob,” she said. 

As he turned his eyes back to the mountains in the east, Ramona added, “Perhaps not remembering is a blessing.”

Jack nodded as he focused on the here and now. His chest, right hip, and right knee ached, albeit in different ways. The gentle breeze brought hints of vanilla and sage to his nose, as well as something sweet-smelling from Ramona. Shampoo, perhaps. 

The start of sunset had turned the light rosy and made buildings’ shadows long. In the distance the just past half-full moon hung over the Carpathians’ jagged peaks. Knowing that he wouldn’t transform in just under two weeks wasn’t as comforting as he’d expected. He wondered if in a few hours Elsa would look at the moon from wherever she was in the U.S. and imagine the two of them, both human, enjoying the light of the full moon.

Breathing through the ache in his chest, Jack tried to recall places Elsa had mentioned visiting often. Portland, Oregon was one of them; her friend Piper lived there. If only he knew when she’d visit—

Jack gasped again, then laughed. “Today’s the 24th!”

“It is,” Ramona stated, eyeing him warily.

“Halloween is a week away,” Jack grinned because that was the day of Ulysses Bloodstone’s funeral.

Ramona gestured at the sachet in Jack’s hands. He laughed again because he didn’t remember pulling it out of his pocket. Unamused, she drawled, “You sure you didn’t put drugs in there?”

Chuckling, Jack shook his head until a sobering thought occurred to him. What if Ulysses hadn’t died recently in this timeline? Since Ramona already thought he was high or crazy, Jack asked, “Has anything about Ulysses Bloodstone been in the news?”

She looked at him askance for a moment, then blinked. “Actually, Constantin mentioned something about a Bloodstone a few days ago. He’s into all of that occult nonsense, so I didn’t pay it much mind.” Then she peered at Jack thoughtfully. “Do you know him?”

Jack tried valiantly to not smile from ear to ear, but failed. He knew exactly where his mate would be in seven days and couldn’t wait to get there. Ted would be there too, which would be awful for him but he and Elsa would rescue him again, and this time the Bloodstone couldn’t hurt Jack so they wouldn’t be caged and the massacre wouldn’t happen. The three of them would flee with the Bloodstone and—

“Jacob?”

Jack returned to the present to find Ramona frowning at him worriedly. “Hmm?”

“Speaking as your nurse, I’m ordering you back to bed. And if I find out that you’re on drugs, I am going to be livid.”

“Okay,” Jack grinned because he couldn’t stop smiling. “And there’s no drugs. I’m just addled, I guess.”

Shaking her head and muttering to herself in Romanian, Ramona headed inside with Jack on her heels. 

Chapter Text

At 8:20 AM Jack buttoned the second to top button of his probably custom-tailored shirt, looked at his reflection over the sink of his en suite bathroom, and frowned. His dark hair seemed ridiculous, and not only because his roots were showing. He felt like an imposter in his own body, which in a sense wasn’t quite his. Snow was missing. He remembered calling for the wolf and Elsa in a fitful dream just before his phone alarm had gone off. There’d been no reply.

The dark circles under his eyes showed that he’d barely slept. He’d spent the night going through everything in his new-to-him bedroom, searching for Elsa, Lissa, James, and Philip online, and learning some rudimentary conversational Romanian. The latter wasn’t too bad since some words were similar to Spanish once he’d figured out how vowels and consonants were shifted. He was far from fluent, though, and hoped he’d get by with English when traveling. This was his first time in Europe since Papá had sent him, Mamá, and Lissa away nearly 40 years ago in the timeline he remembered.

Did accidentally arriving in the Carpathians yesterday, which was also 43 years before his current present and before he’d been born, count as visiting Europe? Jack found the notion grimly amusing. Again his thoughts turned to Elsa, Lissa, and James—none of whom he’d found via online searches—which made his chest ache. Jack pulled from a pocket of his dress pants one of the small sachets he’d made and sniffed. Its faux Elsa scent was soothing.

After putting on dress shoes, Jack double-checked the hiking backpack he’d packed in the wee hours of the morning. Since he could buy additional clothes and supplies once he’d gotten to the U.S. there was room to spare. He only needed a few changes of clothes, shoes, a coat, toiletries, the sachets he’d made, and his passport, wallet, and phone. He had about 12 hours to get to the international airport in Brașov for his flight. It should be plenty of time, and he could sleep on the plane since he’d booked first-class.

After stowing the backpack in the wardrobe, Jack strode to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open while ignoring the various aches and pains from all of those movements. His first full day of being Jacob Russoff had begun.

Jack stepped into the stone hall and found a fair-skinned, twenty-something man wearing a dress shirt, tie, and trousers standing near the door. The young man’s build, blond hair, and facial features were reminiscent of the young version of Philip he’d seen so recently/long ago. The Philip in this timeline taught engineering at the University of Bucharest. He and his wife lived in the city and had a daughter named Sofia. Jack hadn’t spent any more time searching; he’d had too much to do overnight. He looked forward to meeting this version of the man he’d known as his stepfather and alpha.

The young man said cheerfully, “Buna dimineata, Baron.” 

“Buna dimineata. Te rog, spune-mi Jack,” he returned, then grimaced when his words registered. “Jacob.” 

The correction didn’t change the young man’s puzzled frown. 

After pulling the door shut behind him, Jack gave the servant a chagrinned smile and tapped his temple. “Bad memory,” he said in Romanian. “Do you speak English or Spanish?”

“Some English,” he replied in English to Jack’s relief. “You forget Română?”

Jack nodded. “I forget you too, I’m afraid.”

The man smiled sadly. “Constantin, Bar— um, Jacob.”

“Constantin,” Jack repeated, then grinned; this was the servant who’s into occult stuff. His grin turned to a smile as realization dawned. “Did Ramona tell you to wait for me?”

He nodded. “I am to… walk with you to dining room.”

Jack was reluctantly grateful for Ramona’s foresight; he wasn’t sure he’d get to the dining room without getting turned around at least once. “Okay,” Jack said, then turned left. He was pretty sure that was the right direction.

“B— Jacob,” Constantin said.

Jack stopped and looked over his shoulder. The servant hadn’t moved.

“Miss Ramona said to use elevator.” The young man gestured in the opposite direction.

Jack chuckled as he turned around, then fell into step beside the slightly taller man. “It’s best to do as she says, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Constantin grinned. He hurried to amend, “Um, Jacob.”

Again Jack chuckled as the young man pressed the down button beside the elevator’s doors. “You prefer formality?” They stepped into the large, wood-paneled elevator. 

“Yes.”

Jack clapped one hand on Constantin’s shoulder as the door slid shut. “‘Sir’ it is, then.”

***

Mamá, wearing a flattering, long-sleeved dress with her long hair pinned up, looked every inch the matriarch as she signed the latest paper her assistant Andreea had handed her at the head of the formal dining table. Although Jack hadn’t asked, he got the sense that his father had been ill for some time. Mamá had effectively been the baron and still was. As Jack sipped at his coffee—he’d finished eating ten minutes ago—he wondered if there were a way for Mamá to officially have the title if she wanted it. Jack certainly didn’t.

“Este suficient pentru azi dimineață,” Mamá told the petite young woman as she handed the paper back. “Multumesc, Andreea.” The assistant retreated, and Mamá turned to Jack with a tired smile as she picked up her coffee cup. In Spanish she said, “Things should settle down soon, I think.”

Jack nodded. “I hope so.” Then he nodded at Mamá’s plate. She’d hardly touched her omelet, and she looked just as exhausted as she had yesterday. He said gently, “You need to eat, Mamá.”

She smiled wanly, then took a bite of the omelet. After swallowing she said, “I have no appetite.” Then she grinned at Jack’s clean plate. “I’m glad you do.”

“Me too.” Jack fidgeted with the handle of the bone china cup as Mamá made herself eat. He had no idea what to say; all of the questions he wanted to ask would make him seem like a lunatic despite his “amnesia.” Finally something appropriate came to mind. “I don’t remember much about the festival. What exactly do I have to do?” He’d tried to wriggle his way out of it yesterday evening, but Mamá and Ramona were having none of it.

Mamá took another sip of coffee before replying. “Ramona, Andreea, and I discussed how to handle this if your memory didn’t improve overnight. I’ll address the crowd. The traditionalists will be unhappy. Too bad.” She punctuated the last with the impish grin that Lissa often wore. Worry for his sister, Elsa, and James surged, and his chest ached. Jack breathed through it as his mother continued. “All you have to do is wear the ceremonial garb and say a few words. We’ll coach you.”

High heels and another set of footsteps sounded on the polished stone floor of the hallway leading to the dining room as Jack nodded assent. The elaborately carved grandfather clock in one corner of the room said it was 9:40. Jack had enough time to learn his lines for the festival at noon. After he’d done his part, he’d figure out how to get one of the family’s cars—Ramona had mentioned a garage—or call a cab or Uber and get to the airport.

The footsteps stopped on the other side of the double doors across the room. One swung open, revealing Ramona, now in a dark green pantsuit, with Constantin standing just behind her. An oddly shaped garment bag was draped over one of his arms.

“Buna dim— ¡Buenos!” Ramona said brightly. Her gaze included Jack and Mamá. Sticking with Spanish, she asked, “How are you feeling?” She strode into the room with Constantin trailing close behind. They stopped on the side of the oak table opposite Jack.

“Fine,” Mamá replied as Jack returned, “Okay.” Both were white lies, he was sure.

Ramona’s smile was polite. “Glad to hear it.” Then she turned to Jack. “Do you remember the festival at all?” 

Jack shook his head. “Mamá told me about your plan. It sounds good.”

“Excellent,” Ramona said. “We have our work cut out for us after the festival.” Jack frowned, and his assistant clarified, “Paperwork for your official transition to Baron. Anyway, once you’re done with breakfast we’ll go over what you need to say, and you can try this on.” She turned to Constantin, who unzipped the garment bag and held up a heavy-looking costume.

A grotesque, folk-art wolf mask dangled from a strap around the hanger’s hook. Its amber eyes caught some of the sunlight streaming into the room through narrow windows. The wolf’s jaws were wide open, showing pale teeth that seemed to be carved from wood. The mask lay against a pelt of gray fur draped across the hanger.

Jack stared, stunned. 

“Jacob?” Mamá called.

Jack blinked, then faced his worried mother. “Papá wore that?”

Mamá’s dark eyes flicked to Ramona, then back to Jack. “Yes. The baron wears it every fall equinox to honor the coming of winter. The custom goes back centuries.”

He nodded, then murmured, “I’m the baron.” I’m the wolf, he added silently, wondering what Snow would think of this fiasco. 

Jack was vaguely aware of Constantin and Ramona moving and they and Mamá speaking in Romanian, then realized he was chuckling. He nearly burst out laughing from the irony of what his life had become, but choked it back. The whirling emotions came out in the form of tears and gasping breaths as he held back laughter and fought the ache in his chest. He couldn’t wait to tell Elsa about all of this in a few days.

“—sunați pe dr. Albescu,” Mamá told Ramona, who reached for her phone in an inside coat pocket.

“No,” Jack said in Romanian, which got everyone’s attention. Palming the small sachet he’d brought with him, he wiped tears from his eyes. The vanilla, citrus, and sage scent eased his discomfort considerably. “I’m okay.” In Spanish he continued, “I was thinking of Papá, and me wearing that now.” It was a half-truth, and far better than telling the whole truth. 

He turned his eyes to the awful wolf mask and the even more horrific pelt. Constantin gave him a sympathetic smile, then tugged the garment bag over the costume. As Jack nodded his thanks, inspiration struck.

Doing his best to hold back a grin, Jack stood, wincing from his stiff hip. “I want to try it on now. In my room.” Ramona and Mamá protested. Jack said over them, “It’s okay. I’ll get used to it faster so I can get through the ceremony.” 

“Jacob,” Mamá sighed.

Jack moved to her side, leaned down, and hugged her briefly. Breathing her scent made his heart swell. As he straightened he told her, “You need to rest. Ramona will teach me the words.” He headed for the still-opened door, motioning for Constantin to join him. After waving the young man through the doorway, Jack stopped in it and turned around. “Ramona, I’ll call you when I’m ready to practice.” She nodded despite the worry creasing her face. Then he looked at his mother, who’d gotten to her feet. With a sad smile he said, “I love you, Mamá.”

She looked ready to burst into tears. “I love you too, Jacob.”

Jack’s resolve wavered momentarily. Then he squared his shoulders and hurried after his servant.

***

“Sir,” Constantin said as he draped the wolf pelt over his shoulders, “I do not think this idea is good.”

Jack helped him adjust the swath of fur, grateful it was fake. He probably would have vomited had it been real. “This isn’t something I want to do, Constantin,” he assured the young man. “If I could stay, I would, and I’ll come back.” He grinned at the sight of the kid wearing caveman-like fur over a dress shirt, tie, and slacks. This tradition, no matter how time-worn and customary, was absurd. Then Jack retrieved the horrific wolf mask from the desk, avoiding its amber eyes. Constantin frowned at it in dismay.

“Have you ever felt… drawn somewhere?” Jack asked.

“Drawn, sir?”

Jack held the heavy mask against his left hip. “Like you need to go to a certain place.”

Constantin nodded.

He met the young man’s eyes. “Since the funeral I’ve known that I have to go to the United States. Someone is calling me.”

Constantin gasped. “How? In a dream?”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed, feeling vaguely guilty even though he was largely telling the truth. He lowered the mask over the servant’s head. Sheer black fabric obscured the wearer’s face, which was visible through the wolf’s mouth, and the back of their head. “Okay?” he asked as he moved behind the young man to secure the strap in the back.

“Okay.”

After fastening the strap, Jack returned to face the wolf-masked man. If he looked closely he could make out Constantin’s features through the fabric. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Jack gave the servant a contrite smile. “It’s uncomfortable, I know.” He did; he’d tried on the ridiculous costume first. “You shouldn’t have to wear it for more than 15 minutes, and I’ll give you a letter to give to my mother so she knows that I’m responsible for all of this.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

Jack grinned. “Okay. Let’s go over the plan one more time.” He tried to pull the mask off of Constantin’s head, but the strap held it firm.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” Jack blurted as he scrambled to undo the buckle. 

Soon Constantin was free from the wolf. As he brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, Jack snatched his phone from the desk and brought up Apple Maps.

“Sir?” Constantin said as Jack zoomed in to Mediaș. “If I may ask...” 

Still focused on his phone, Jack nodded.

“The person calling you, is it your father?”

Jack stopped, blinking back tears as he met the young man’s eyes. He almost wished it were Papá. “No. It’s someone very important. She needs my help.” And I need hers, he thought. 

Constantin smiled broadly. “You will find her. I am sure.”

Jack returned the smile. He knew he’d find her as well.

Two hours later Jack stood at the corner of Strada Cloșca and Strada Avram Ianuc with his backpack on his left shoulder. The red North Face coat over his dress shirt made him look less baron-y, he supposed, as well as the beanie hat he’d also found in Jacob’s wardrobe. Once he was in the cab he’d change shoes. His dress ones were terrible for running, even the limp-run he was able to manage for a few blocks. He wished he’d gotten some Vicodin from Ramona after all.

As he waited he peered northeast toward the castle, which was one corner of the town square. He could just make out the platform on the far end which was surrounded by townspeople and probably some tourists. There seemed to be a bit of a commotion near the podium. Jack winced for Constantin’s sake; his mother was a force to reckon with when angry. He hoped she went easy on the kid and read both of the letters he’d left with Constantin as soon as possible. 

It had taken Jack a half hour to compose the goodbye one. In Spanish he’d written:

Dear Mamá,

Please forgive me for how I left today. I didn’t want to leave while you’re mourning, but it is necessary. There’s something I must do which requires traveling for at least a week. I will return as soon as possible. 

Ramona will probably tell you that she thinks I’m using drugs. I’m not, and I’m not insane. There are good reasons for my actions. It’s too much to explain. I hope to tell you eventually.

I will text you and Ramona every few days so you know I’m okay. I look forward to returning so we can spend more time together. Time together is a gift.

All my love,

Jacob

A sedan—one of the few vehicles on the road with many of them blocked off for the parade—stopped in front of Jack. “Brașov airport?” the burly driver asked in Romanian.

“Da,” Jack replied. 

Once he was settled in the back seat with his pack beside him, the driver merged back into light traffic. Jack sat back in the seat that smelled slightly of cigarette smoke. He pretended to scratch his nose to get a whiff of faux Elsa scent from the sachet he kept palmed more often than not now. He didn’t need her scent much at the moment, but wanted to feel closer to her.

The driver briefly looked over his shoulder. “Aren’t you Jacob Russoff?” he asked in Romanian, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

Jack blinked at the driver’s reflection, then scoffed. In English he said, “I get that all the time. My name is Jack.”

Chapter Text

The two worst things about being Jacob Russoff were chronic pain and fame.

Jack could handle acute pain. He’d learned to once the werewolf curse had activated so he’d stay sane. Now his fully human body always hurt to some degree.

Although the ache in Jack’s chest from his bond with Elsa was manageable, pain from Jacob’s injuries wasn’t. He felt bone grinding on bone in his knee when he’d walked too much or his hip complaining for sitting for too long or whatever was going on with the muscles and tendons of his shoulder. It was maddening, and the stress of it had resulted in a killer headache three times during his journey to Arizona so far.

By the time his flight had landed in LaGuardia, Jack’s head was pounding. Thankfully he’d slept during the long flight, so he managed to not snarl at football fans wanting to snap photos or get autographs. Apparently a hat, sunglasses, casual clothes, and two days of stubble wasn’t much of a disguise. 

He must have looked pitiful because a big-boned, dark-skinned airport employee with a Jamaican accent appeared at Jack’s elbow, bellowed for everyone to leave Mr. Russoff alone, and shepherded him to ground transportation. 

“Didja call your hotel already, Mr. Russoff?” Winston asked in accented English as they neared the twin sets of automatic doors separating the bustling area from a parade of taxis and Ubers outside. The smell of car exhaust was strong even from fifty feet away.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, tried to will some of the pain away, then blinked his eyes open. “I, ah, don’t have reservations anywhere.”

“Oh,” Winston said. “Where do you usually stay?”

Jack frowned; he had no idea. “Somewhere nice,” he hedged, motioning vaguely at his head. “Can’t think straight right now.”

“Want me to pick a place for you?”

“Sure,” Jack shrugged and wished he hadn’t. Now his shoulder hurt too.

Fifteen minutes later he climbed in some sort of luxury taxi as Winston told the driver, “Ritz Carlton Central Park.” Jack had already given the Black man a hundred dollar bill as a thank you for getting him through the gauntlet of LaGuardia and on the way to somewhere he could rest and regroup. 

An hour later Jack sprawled on a ridiculously large bed in a ridiculously opulent hotel room with a great view of Central Park. The handful of Tylenol he’d gulped down had taken the edge off of his aches and pains already. As he breathed one of his sachets’ vanilla, sage, and citrus he remembered the feel of his mate in his arms: soft skin over lithe muscle, the dark curtain of her hair, and her heart’s strong, steady pulse. 

Jack’s chest ached, but less intensely now. 

I’m coming, Elsa, he thought as his eyelids slowly closed.

***

Thanks to the waxing gibbous moon and clear skies, Jack didn’t need headlights to steer the SUV he’d rented in Phoenix along the rough dirt road that branched off of the driveway leading to Bloodstone Manor. Although he knew that the rough bridge over the arroyo that he’d repaired in his timeline would be washed out now, seeing the scattered timbers still was disheartening. Homesickness swelled even though the small, dark house he approached wasn’t his and Elsa’s yet.

Jack parked the SUV in front of the Mission Revival, stucco house that had been the home of the manor’s groundskeeper and his family decades earlier. Despite remembering the few days he and Elsa had spent there, Jack’s chest didn’t ache. He smiled; his mate must be close now.

The cool night air felt good on Jack’s skin as he changed out of the T-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing and into the textured, dark green suit he’d bought in Phoenix just like last time. The tailor again had questioned the sparkly accents. Again Jack told him that that’s what he wanted. He’d heard the first time around and now knew that hunters’ ceremonies were over-the-top affairs.

Peering at his semi-transparent reflection in the SUV’s driver’s side window, Jack straightened his tie and checked his hair. The latter was out of habit and wholly unnecessary; the day after he’d arrived in New York he’d had a barber cut nearly all of it off. Jack had wanted the dyed part of his hair gone, and the super-short haircut made him look more like him and less like Jacob. His salt-and-pepper stubble that was nearly a very short beard helped as well.

Inside the SUV the alarm on his phone sounded. It was 8:30 PM. The funeral would start in a half hour.

After stowing the rest of the gear he’d bought in Phoenix—brass knuckles and two mini-bombs—in pockets, Jack ate some beef jerky and washed it and four Tylenol down with water. By the light of the moon he applied black and white face paint in a simplified calavera design. It didn’t work as well with his beard, but that didn’t matter. The only things that did were reuniting with Elsa and saving Ted.

Not grinning as he strode up to the guarded entrance to the temple took willpower. Focusing on his perennially unhappy joints helped. The guard at the door wearing black paramilitary armor glanced at the iron cross on a ribbon round Jack’s neck and waved him inside.

Jack was halfway down the hallway with the hideous, violent murals when voices behind him stopped him cold.

“You’ve got some gall showing up here.” The man’s American-accented baritone dripped disdain.

A impatient huff carried down the hall. “Whatever,” Elsa drawled, and Jack’s breath caught. He willed himself to not run to her, but turned in her direction. Neither she nor the man she spoke with were visible. “He’s my dad too,” she added, sounding bored. “Was.”

Jack blinked rapidly. Her brother was here? Elsa had said little about Cullen in the time they’d been together. How would this affect the hunt? Jack gulped as worry overtook the nervous excitement that had filled him since entering the manor’s grounds.

“You don’t deserve the Bloodstone,” Cullen spat.

Jack could practically hear his mate’s eyes rolling. “Not your call, dear brother.” Light footsteps sounded, and Elsa’s willowy silhouette appeared at the end of the hallway. 

After beaming at his mate, determined and graceful and fierce in her leather jacket, pants, and boots, Jack forced himself to turn around and continue to the rotunda. Elsa’s footsteps continued and were soon joined by heavier ones, surely Cullen’s.

Verussa rushed past Jack as he entered the circular room which would have been elegant without all of the monster heads hanging on the wall. He tried to repeat everything he’d done the first time around while Elsa, Verussa, and now Cullen spoke in the hallway.

Jack stopped in front of the case bearing the Bloodstone, once again moving one hand forward to touch it. He was sorely tempted. If he grabbed it now, he could run to Elsa and flee with her to the labyrinthine garden to free Ted.

In his imagination Elsa sighed, “Don’t be an idiot, Jack.”

Imaginary Elsa was right; it was a terrible idea. He’d wait until they both were in the maze. Resigning himself to suffering through the melodramatic ceremony again, Jack withdrew his hand.

Before long the enormous and jovial Scotsman was complimenting Jack on his makeup. Jack nodded and smiled, keeping up what passed for small talk between hunters. Again the Scot asked if any of the stuffed monster heads had been his doing, so Jack glanced up at the vampire and found something else entirely.

Light glinted off of ebony eyes in a twisted version of a wolf’s head. Its short fur was an unnatural gray—nearly blue—and covered its too-tall, pointed ears and similarly long, tapering lengths of flesh extending from the sides of its face. Jack remembered the ridge running up its skull and how it smelled more of brimstone than wolf. 

Jack thought he smelled it now, but that was ridiculous. He could barely smell the Scotsman’s aftershave, and hadn’t caught a hint of his mate’s sage and vanilla earlier when she was only 15 feet away. Lissa’s head was a good 20 feet away and up.

And she was dead.

His sister’s were-demon head hung on a wall in Bloodstone Manor.

“Bloody hell, mate,” the Scot said. Something heavy clamped down on Jack’s right shoulder, prompting a surge of pain. 

Jack startled and shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. He was sweating, he realized, and breathing rapidly. Above him Lissa’s lifeless eyes stared. How had she—

“What’s this?” Verussa’s shrill voice called. Jack turned and found her walking toward him with Elsa and a stocky, dark-haired man trailing behind. The old woman smirked. “Frightened, hunter? We haven’t even started!”

Jack’s eyes darted from face to face as he scrambled to regain his composure. Everyone was staring at him with expressions ranging from mild interest to contempt.

He met Elsa’s gaze and held it for a long moment. She seemed bored, apathetic. How was she holding it together so well? 

Jack forced his attention back to Verussa and managed a cool smile. “I hadn’t realized she—it—had been taken. It was a challenging opponent.” Based on what little Jack remembered of his fighting his sister shortly after she’d turned eighteen, it was the truth.

“It was,” the man standing near Elsa stated. Despite the rotunda’s dim lighting, the resemblance between Cullen and Elsa was obvious. They had the same eyes and nose. Overall Cullen was much bigger, if not hulking like the Scotsman. He stood six inches taller than his sister, with broad shoulders and a suggestion of muscle beneath his tailored, military-style suit. “It was picking off members of a remote community in Alberta one by one. I took it out by myself.” His chest puffed out, and he smirked down at his sister. “Brought the head back for Dad’s collection.”

Elsa covered a fake yawn, and Jack nearly chuckled. 

“And what a collection it is!” Verussa declared, sweeping her arm wide. “Come,” she told them all as she strode toward her husband’s coffin on the other side of the room. “The guest of honor has prepared a few words.”

Sitting in the same chair he had before, Jack tuned out Verussa’s and dead Ulysses’s insane ramblings. Lissa was gone like his father, but Mamá was still alive and Elsa was a few feet behind him. She must have shifted in her chair because he caught a whiff of her scent, her real, wonderful, complex scent, and it renewed his resolve. He’d mourn Lissa because there was no alternative and he’d live with Elsa and Mamá and James…if the sorcerer were alive. Jack had looked for him in Brooklyn before leaving for Arizona but came up empty. There’d been no sign of Ash, Scott, or Emily either, but surely that was because he hadn’t looked hard enough. He’d find them later, after he and Elsa had rescued Ted.

They walked outside to the macabre table decorated with skulls and lit candles. Elsa didn’t even glance at Jack. God, she was good at this. He was having difficulty not staring at her.

Jack drew the first rune again.

He walked behind the guy with the flaming tuba toward the walled maze. Taking inspiration from Elsa, he didn’t look back.

The second the heavy door closed behind him, Jack ran as best he could to the hedge where Ted had been before. Grinning, he reached through the foliage, whispering “Ted!” His hands found his friend’s vines and leaves, and Ted roared.

On instinct Jack yanked his hands back and covered his ears. In his head he heard Ted’s warbling, inhuman voice. What? Who are you?

Jack reached through the hedge again. “Ted, it’s Jack!” he whispered. His fingers found what felt like his friend’s hand, so he gently squeezed it. “Don’t you recognize me with your nexus thing? Jacob—I, sort of—never met you, but we’re friends! I’m here to rescue you.”

Ted’s huge hand pushed some of the branches aside, exposing his red eyes and mostly plant face. You’re insane.

Jack choked back a laugh. “It sounds that way, I guess.” 

You’re not afraid of me, Ted stated, tilting his massive head.

“No, ‘cause you’re a big softie.” Jack’s amusement waned as more of Ted’s words registered. “You don’t recognize me at all?”

Ted shook his head.

“Well,” Jack sighed, “maybe you can do something with the nexus door later that’ll help. And if not, it’s okay. I’m sure we can be friends again.” In the distance the door to the maze squealed on its hinges, and Jack cringed. “We’re running out of time. They put the Bloodstone on you, yes?”

The pitiful groan Ted made was confirmation.

“Okay. Turn around. I’ll pull it off.”

Ted shrunk back, alarmed. You’ll just hurt me with it.

“No, never!” Jack caught hold of one of Ted’s vines. “Use your empathy. I’m telling the truth. I want to get the Bloodstone to Elsa, then we’ll blow up the wall and the three of us will escape.”

Ted’s luminous eyes narrowed as he studied Jack. We’ll blow up a wall?

“Yes, yes!” Jack huffed impatiently and tried to make a hole in the hedge. “Help me with this! I need to hide from the hunters and tell you the plan. It’s simple. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Ted’s enormous green hands pushed the shrubs’ branches aside with a chorus of snaps and pops. Jack stepped through, chuckling despite his knee’s and hip’s protests. “Just like old times, my friend.” After hugging him and breathing his leafy, swampy scent, Jack pulled back and grinned up at him. “Let me get that awful stone off of you.”

Minutes later Jack sprinted toward where he’d almost bump into his mate. For the first time since waking up in this timeline, he was pain-free thanks to the Bloodstone clenched in his right hand. It felt so good, and hope that the magical gem could heal whatever damage lingered from Jacob’s accident swept aside worries and what-ifs. He reluctantly stuffed it in a pocket in case another hunter spotted him.

Elsa rounded the corner just as she had the first time. Beaming, Jack stepped up to her. “Mi vida, I missed—”

Then he was face-down on the ground with one of his mate’s knees pressing into his back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Elsa snarled, “but you’d be wise to leave me alone.”

Doubt crept in, and Jack’s stomach clenched. “Elsa, let me up! You don’t have to pretend—”

Her knee must have hit a pressure point because even the Bloodstone couldn’t counter this pulse of pain. She hissed, “Shut up already!”

“No, Elsa,” Jack ground out, “look up! He’s coming!”

Then the Scotsman shouted, his axe struck adobe, and Elsa was off him and fighting. On hands and knees Jack scrambled out of the fray.

By the time he’d gotten to his feet Elsa had scaled a wall. Jack turned and ran before the Scot could attack. 

A pit formed in Jack’s stomach as he ran toward the mausoleum. Ted didn’t remember him, and Elsa didn’t seem to either. Was she mated to him? If she weren’t, why would she want Jack around considering his bizarre-seeming actions? Perhaps if he gave her the Bloodstone and introduced her to Ted, his friend could convince her he was telling the truth.

The sounds of metal clanging and fighters grunting made Jack skid to a halt at the edge of the landscaped area in front of the mausoleum. He peeked around a column to find his mate battling the Asian hunter who had a miniature crossbow contraption on one arm. The two leaped and spun in a deadly, graceful dance, which Jack watched as he slipped his brass knuckles on his right hand. Something about the hunter nagged at Jack, but there was no time to ponder it now.

Jack was about to join the battle when Elsa literally disarmed the hunter with the axe she expertly wielded. Pride surged from his mate’s prowess. Again she had the upper hand, so he watched her pummel the Asian man and waited.

The injured hunter rallied and got hold of the axe as Elsa regained her footing. Jack lunged, and the hunter spotted him with enough time to swing the axe one-handed.  The sharp metal edge narrowly missed Jack’s head. 

Jack collided with the larger man, sending them both tumbling across the cement ground. The axe clattered to his left as Jack snarled and pinned the hunter, drawing back his brass-knuckled fist to knock him out. 

Elsa’s boot connected with the hunter’s head first. It whipped to the side as a tooth sailed through the air.

Still on top of his quarry, Jack grinned giddily up at his mate. The black wolf’s wildness danced in her eyes even as she looked at him askance. “Te amo, mi cazadora,” he blurted before he could stop himself. 

“Right,” Elsa drawled, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Why are you helping me?”

Jack got to his feet, moving slowly to not spook his mate who didn’t remember him. “Because I know you.” Elsa opened her mouth, but Jack kept talking. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I do. You’re a good person—” Elsa’s frown deepened, which broke Jack’s heart a little. “—so you deserve to have this.” He pulled the Bloodstone from his pocket and offered it to Elsa, whose jaw had hit the ground.

They stood there with the red gem glowing on Jack’s upturned palm and the gold setting’s heavy chain dangling down. 

Elsa took a step back and glanced around. “Whatever trick you’re trying to play, I won’t fall for it.”

“It’s not a trick!” Jack hissed. How could he convince Elsa that he meant her no harm?

Ted roared somewhere close by as a woman’s shriek cut through the night, then silenced.

Elsa gulped, looked at the Bloodstone in Jack’s hand, then glared at him. “Idiot! You took it off the monster!”

Jack moved closer, and Elsa stepped back again. She was nearly at the mausoleum’s doors. “Elsa, he’s my friend! He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Neither do I!”

“Pfft,” she scoffed, motioning at the hunter slowly bleeding out on the ground. “Tell him that.”

“I didn’t cut his arm off!”

“Well I didn’t appreciate having a crossbow aimed at my face!”

Jack’s head was whirling from the entire situation, and now they were bickering like they had before sometimes, before everything had gone wrong. He sputtered a laugh. To Jack’s surprise, Elsa cracked a grin as well. 

Jack kneeled, set the Bloodstone on the ground, and stepped back a few paces. “Take it, mi vida,” he said softly. “Please.” He almost regretted giving it up. Without the gem’s magic everything hurt again.

Elsa moved closer and squatted while keeping a wary eye on Jack. “Just…” she began as her hand closed around the gemstone.

Jack looked a question at her.

“…stop calling me ‘mi vida.’ It’s creepy.”

He smiled broadly, happy to have made some progress with her.

A man’s scream and Ted’s roar carried over the maze’s walls and columns. Jack and Elsa looked in that direction, which would take them to the cracked exterior wall.

Jack managed a step toward his friend, but stopped and addressed Elsa again. “I’m going to join my friend Ted now,” he said quietly. “We’re leaving, and you have the stone. You…” He looked away to escape the wariness on his mate’s face. “…you could come with us, if you want.”

Although Elsa sniffed, there was no derision behind it. Jack met her dark eyes again. “Why would I do that?” It was a simple, direct question, and Jack was glad.

“Because we’re a good team,” Jack managed. Silently he added, And we belong together.

Tears pricked Jack’s eyes. He blinked them back. His friend needed him. 

“If you want to see me again,” Jack said, his voice rough, “look me up. My name is Jack, but I go by Jacob Russoff.”

Elsa did a double take. “The soccer star?”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “Yes.” After giving his mate the best smile he could manage, he turned and ran toward Ted.

Chapter Text

For one of a handful of times in her life, Elsa Bloodstone was at a loss.

She stood in the maze she’d trained in as part of her father’s funeral-turned-battle-royale with the Bloodstone in her hand thanks to Jacob Russoff, international soccer superstar. Despite not having met him before, in the last 30 minutes he’d called her a few pet names and said he loved her… in Spanish.

Russoff was Ukrainian, wasn’t he?

He didn’t sound Ukrainian.

He definitely sounded crazy.

A man’s shout carried from the direction Russoff had gone followed by the crack of metal on stone. No monster roar accompanied it, and Elsa thought she heard the sounds of a scuffle. Acting on instinct, she stuffed the Bloodstone in an inside coat pocket, picked up the axe, and ran toward the fray.

Elsa slowed as she neared the sounds of footfalls on the sandy ground and wondered what on earth she was doing. She had the Bloodstone. She knew the labyrinth inside-out. There were a few exits if you were willing to do some climbing and leaping.

She looked around the corner of an adobe wall expecting to find Cullen fighting someone other than the Scotsman. The latter was loud. Elsa and Cullen had been trained to keep quiet to not reveal their location.

Instead she found Russoff, the Black hunter, and an enormous, bipedal, plant-like creature with glowing red eyes near the portion of the outer wall that had had a crack running through it for as long as Elsa could remember. The soccer star stood between the two with his back to the monster—Ted, wasn’t it?—with his left arm extended ahead as if trying to will away the hunter, who brandished a war hammer. His other arm was stretched behind him toward his supposed friend. Moonlight glinted off the brass knuckles on that hand. Why hadn’t he acquired a better weapon?

“We don’t want to hurt anyone,” Russoff quietly told the Black man, his voice taut. The hunter stood a few inches taller than Russoff and probably outweighed him by 40 pounds.

The hunter scoffed. “The two that that thing burned alive beg to differ.” He took a step closer, and shorter man moved back.

The monster made an angry, gurgling noise as steam rose from his huge hands. Russoff scowled over his shoulder and hissed, “Let me handle this! You need to calm down so I can give you the, ah, little thing.”

If Elsa recalled correctly, the slight man had been in a bad rock climbing accident some years back. She wondered if he’d suffered brain damage.

The hunter lunged, swinging the hammer for Russoff’s head. Elsa found herself ready to leap in, but stopped herself. Russoff was nuts, “Ted” incinerated people, and the hunter would kill her in a heartbeat. She stayed put and watched the soccer player deftly dodge the attack and wrench the hammer from his adversary’s hand. Elsa blinked, impressed, while noting the man’s grimace and how he favored his right side. 

The Black man must have noticed as well. His foot lashed out and connected with Russoff’s right knee. He screamed as he fell to the ground with his lower leg jutting at an unnatural angle. Then everything was in motion.

The monster roared again, this time with a dissonance that made Elsa’s ears ring. Tossing the axe aside, she sprinted forward as the creature’s hands clamped around the hunter. She kept her eyes on Russoff as she approached, trying to not think about the heat she felt as she rushed past, the Black man’s shrieks, and the acrid, bitter smell of flesh burning.

Russoff was on the ground fumbling in a pants pocket when she skidded to a halt beside him and dropped to her knees. For a split second the agonized expression on his face was replaced with surprise and adoration. It took Elsa’s breath away; no one had ever looked at her like that. 

Then pain contorted his features. Russoff thrust his balled hand at her. “Mi—”

“Don’t,” Elsa warned.

Russoff managed a pained grin. “Take this.” 

Elsa did and found a small plastic cylinder in her hands. She gave him a questioning look as she heard what was left of the hunter patter to the ground behind her.

 “It’s a bomb. Twist it, then put it in the crack on the wall. We’ll explode our way out of here.” He gulped, then added, “Me and Ted.”

Elsa frowned. Russoff couldn’t walk and worse, she was considering leaving with this nutcase. There had to be another option.

The monster was awfully quiet behind her. Elsa drew a deep breath, reminded herself that Ted was Russoff’s friend, and looked over her shoulder. Worried red eyes stared back from six feet above her.

Ted’s his friend. Ted’s his friend. Ted’s his friend, she thought as she drew another breath.

“You’ll carry him?” Elsa asked.

The monster’s nod made the tentacles dangling under his face sway.

Elsa nodded back, then faced Russoff, who was back to grinning. “You’re a lunatic,” she muttered as she moved to his injured leg.

“I get that a lot,” he deadpanned as he pushed himself to a sitting position. “Don’t worry about me, Elsa. I’ve survived worse. Set the charge so Ted and I can go.”

Elsa returned, “Don’t be stupid.” She retrieved the Bloodstone from inside her coat and shoved it into his hands. 

Russoff’s eyes went wide with surprise as his body relaxed from the gem’s healing magic. She’d experienced the warm, soothing energy from the handful of times her father had used it on her to heal grievous wounds. “You’re helping me,” he murmured, smiling.

She reluctantly met Russoff’s eyes, and deja vu settled over her. The sight of the Bloodstone glowing in his hand snapped her out of it, and she scowled. “Ought to have my head examined. Now brace. I’m going to set your leg.”

He nodded. “Te a—”

“Aaaht!” Elsa scolded. He wisely went quiet.

She grasped his lower thigh with one hand and shin with the other, then wrenched his lower leg and knee back into position. Russoff muffled a shout, then drew deep, even breaths. He really had been through worse, it seemed.

“All right,” Elsa said, moving to his side while avoiding his gaze. “Up. Put your arm around my shoulders.”

Russoff did so, and Elsa noticed that his breathing had changed. Was he sniffing? Dear god, she was helping a lunatic and a creep… who smelled pretty good himself. No cologne or aftershave, but— 

Elsa shook her head. What the hell was she thinking?

Ted’s enormous, root-like hand closed around Russoff’s left arm. The monster made a burbling noise that seemed happy somehow.

“Thanks, Ted,” Russoff said.

Elsa and the monster got her unlikely ally to his feet with his right arm across her shoulders and the Bloodstone’s heavy chain dangling from that hand.

She heard movement behind them, then a whooshing noise, and Russoff screamed. The Bloodstone fell to the ground as a warm, wet fluid dripped on to Elsa’s right hand.

Blood. 

Russoff’s blood.

He slumped against Ted, who easily supported him with one huge hand. The man’s face was a mask of pain from his injured leg and the crossbow bolt piercing his wrist.

“Oh, Elsa,” Cullen sighed a short distance behind her. His put-upon condescension sounded just like Dad’s.

Elsa began inching her foot toward the Bloodstone; her brother was the last person who should have the stone, and Russoff needed it now. “You’re still here?” Elsa drawled.

A crossbow bolt impaled the ground an inch from her foot. “I don’t think so, sis.”

Elsa laughed mirthlessly. “What are you going to do? Trot up here so Ted can incinerate you?”

Cullen paced into view twenty feet away. As he raised his left arm to aim the miniature crossbow at Elsa’s head, she noticed the war hammer on the ground between them. To her left Russoff, still held up by the monster, made an odd rumble, almost a growl. 

“Ted,” Cullen spat, his expression pure contempt. “As if abandoning the family wasn’t bad enough, now you’re helping a monster!”

“Better than shooting an unarmed man,” Elsa retorted.

Cullen rolled his eyes. “By aligning with them,” he said with a caustic look at Ted, “you forfeit your humanity. Both of you.”

“Please,” Elsa drawled. “Melodramatic much? Verussa must have been giving you lessons.”

Anger flared in her brother’s blue eyes, not yet the rage she’d often seen from him and their father. He stalked a few steps closer, and the enormous swamp creature beside her loosed a low, threatening rattle.

“Stop!” Russoff cried. Cullen halted, and Elsa prayed that he hadn’t noticed the hammer now in his reach. Russoff continued, “No one else has to die. Please, just let us go.”

Cullen barked a laugh. “I have a better idea.” Suddenly he crouched, grabbed the hammer, and threw it in one smooth motion, burying the claw part of the weapon in Ted’s neck. Over the monster’s shriek he shouted, “Mounting its head on a wall!”

Elsa felt heat and smelled something sharp and there was smoke and Russoff was screaming, crawling away while yelling in Spanish. Elsa was already moving, dropping to the ground and grabbing the Bloodstone that was slick with Russoff’s blood and threw it at him—oh god, he’d been burned—this kind, inexplicable, foolishly brave man and hoped he’d caught it because she’d turned to face Cullen who was almost on them. Russoff was still talking, and Elsa understood a fraction of his words: “…all wrong! Put me back…Bloodstone…nexus…never happen!”

She got her feet under her and leaped aiming for Cullen’s legs but her brother was faster. Pain lanced Elsa’s shoulder, then her neck. She fell short of her target, crumpling to the cold ground. Russoff screamed the heart-wrenching cry of a someone losing a spouse or parent or child as Ted roared, the two sounds twining together making the ground tremble. She barely felt it, could hardly feel the sand on the side of her face, under her hands.

She was so cold. 

I’m dying.

Russoff had the Bloodstone, Elsa was sure. Cullen didn’t. 

With that a calm certainty washed over Elsa, akin to how her chest had stopped hurting when she’d approached the manor. 

Now she could rest.

Chapter Text

Elsa kept her pistol trained on the charging grizzly bear, ignoring how her hands stung after firing six rounds. Despite James waving his hands and muttering arcane words beside her, Lissa and Jack still hadn’t snapped out of it and the bear was closing fast. 

She’d shifted her weight to her left foot to kick her mate with her right when Jack’s eyes flew open. With yellow irises reflecting back moonlight he shouted, “Don’t shoot! No spells!”

Elsa started to ask why, but Jack leaped front of her with a growl that crescendoed into something inhuman. Lissa screamed to Elsa’s right as Jack’s body grew and twisted into his hybrid form in a second flat. Gaping, she pointed her pistol at the ground as her mate’s transformation continued. His anguished cries drowned out the snaps of his bones breaking as he grew taller and broader still. Snow’s canine snout burst from his half-wolf face, and the tattered remains of his boots, motorcycle jacket, and T-shirt fell to the ground. Somehow about a third of his overpants remained. 

Twenty feet from Snow’s hulking form the bear skidded to a halt. She panted and snarled with a trickle of blood on her right shoulder. The wolf drew himself to his full height, spread his muscled arms wide, and roared. Elsa barely heard it over the blood rushing in her ears.

The beasts stared with the bear huffing and Snow snarling for seconds that felt far longer. Then high-pitched yips and whimpers carried from behind the bear. Elsa thought she saw movement near Lebeck’s grave but wouldn’t take her eyes off of the standoff to check.

The bear quieted.

Snow followed suit.

The grizzly bear took a slow step backwards, then another. Snow remained quiet and still, and the bear retreated further. After moving ten feet back, she turned and loped toward the gravesite. As Elsa safetied and holstered her gun she spotted the bear cubs darting in and out of the heavy shadow cast by the valley oak over Lebeck’s grave. There was no sign of Lebeck himself.

The cubs pounced on their mother as she drew near. She seemed to nuzzle and lick them in return. As their high- and low-pitched cries carried across the parade ground, Elsa glanced at her companions. Snow hadn’t budged; he continued to guard, she was sure. James, who stood a short distance to Elsa’s left, moved his wide-eyed stare from Snow to the bear family and back. On her other side Lissa’s ashen face and rapid, shallow breaths conveyed shock.

Elsa turned her attention to the wolf towering just in front of her. The last time she’d been in close contact with Snow was the last night of the full moon nearly a month ago in the Ozarks. He’d been tired and sated from hunting earlier that night. The rapid transformation she’d witnessed seemed painful and traumatic. Snow had defended them from the bear. Did he still want to hunt and fight?

Realizing that the bears’ huffs and yips had stopped, Elsa peered around Snow at the sprawling valley oak in the distance. With the exception of a handful of cars on the highway near the northern edge of the park and some voices carrying from the campground to the east, the night was quiet and still.

“Snow,” Elsa called softly.

As the wolf dropped to all fours and turned around, Lissa drew a sharp breath and took a few steps back. She didn’t run, and Elsa was glad. On her left James hadn’t moved other than to fidget with the sling ring on his left hand.

Snow smiled with green-flecked eyes as he whimpered and rumbled. Elsa took a step toward her mate but he was faster, circling while pressing his furred side against her. Smiling, she raised one arm so her hand would skim over his dark fur as he moved. Although the wolf had been affectionate before, he seemed unusually happy now. “Hi, Snow, Jack,” Elsa murmured. “Thank you. Te amo.”

A nervous chuckle sounded just behind Elsa. James said quietly, “Holy shit, dude. You’re huge.”

Elsa grinned at the sorcerer; he wasn’t wrong. On all fours Snow nearly came up to her shoulder.

With his shoulder against Elsa’s side, Snow stopped circling and huffed. She volunteered, “Pretty sure that’s a laugh.”

Realizing that Lissa hadn’t said a word, Elsa twisted around to face her. Her sister-in-law’s hands trembled as she stared at Snow. Elsa gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Snow’s calm and happy and Jack’s with him, at least a little.” The wolf whined, stretched his head up, and nuzzled Elsa’s neck. She grinned as she sunk her fingers into his thick fur. “Maybe more than a little.”

Lissa nodded. After giving them a wan smile, she walked to where her mother’s guitar lay on the ground and retrieved it.

The sound of doors slamming carried from the southwest. The group turned in that direction to find a few of the park rangers’ residences lit from inside and motion between the handful of buildings. One pair of vehicle headlights glowed to life, then another.

James raised his hands. “I’ll open a portal back to the campsite. We’ll be gone before—”

Snow stood up straight and growled at James while shaking his canine head. 

The sorcerer froze. He gulped, then said, “No portal?”

After nodding once the wolf pointed one oversized, clawed hand northwest. Before Elsa could react he’d scooped her up and carried her a few steps in that direction. She fought the urge to tell her mate to put her down—she could walk just fine on her own—because time was of the essence. Even if Jack were human they couldn’t afford to get caught in the park after hours, especially with Elsa fully armed.

From a short distance behind James called quietly, “You want us to run toward the highway?” 

Elsa shifted in Snow’s arms, wrapping one arm around his neck so she could look over his shoulder. James and Lissa were running to catch up with Snow’s fast walk. The color had returned to Lissa’s face, which Elsa was glad to see.

“There’s a creek at the edge of the park,” Elsa replied. “Lots of trees, so we’ll have cover. We can follow the creek for a bit, then portal away. Right?” She’d turned to address her mate. 

Without breaking stride, Snow turned his head to meet her gaze and nodded. Then he licked the side of her face. 

Elsa sputtered, grimacing and laughing simultaneously. Behind them Lissa made a retching noise as James chuckled. 

After wiping her face on her shoulder, Elsa whispered, “No licking, please, amor. Ugh.” The wolf whined, and she couldn’t withhold a giggle.

Fifteen minutes later Elsa stepped through the portal that James had opened on the creek’s bank to their campsite in the hills to the southwest. Snow, who’d gone through first, stood near the extinguished campfire keeping a watchful eye out. 

James stood several feet away tracing progressively smaller circles in the air with his right hand to close the fiery doorway. “Any idea why he didn’t want us to use the portal on the parade ground?”

Elsa opened her mouth to reply, but Lissa spoke first. “Probably has to do with the vortex.” The Latina still sounded rattled, but at least she was talking now. 

“That’s—” Elsa began, but was interrupted by a 7.5-foot-tall werewolf sprinting up to her and pulling her close. “Oof,” she blurted, then laughed because Snow’s chest was vibrating with his happy growl. She hugged him back as best she could with his arms banded around her. Soon he’d pressed his snout against the top of her head, and it was getting to be a bit much.

“Snow, Jack,” Elsa said. “Let go a little.” 

After a short whine of protest, he obeyed.

Feeling Lissa’s and James’s eyes on them, Elsa pulled back slightly and met her mate’s mostly gold eyes. “You’re really clingy, and you shifted shockingly fast. Did something happen when you were seeing your mother’s memories?”

The wolf nodded vigorously.

“Nothing bad,” Lissa stated. “At least nothing I saw. Mamá was on the shore of a lake in the mountains. Papá was somewhere nearby. They walked up a path with a few others toward a chapel. Then that stopped and the bear was attacking and…” Despite her lingering trepidation, Lissa moved a few steps closer and smiled at Snow. “You protected us. Thank you.”

James, who’d been quietly listening, caught the wolf’s eye. “You saw more than that?”

Snow nodded again. After nuzzling the side of Elsa’s head, he released her and dropped to a sitting position. With the claw of his index finger he scratched “PHONE” in the sandy ground.

Elsa, James, and Lissa exchanged surprised looks. “Is Snow that smart,” Lissa asked, “or is Jack that present?”

As Elsa shrugged, Snow swiped away what he’d written in the sand with one huge hand. In its place he wrote, “2ND ONE.”

Smiling, Elsa stroked her mate’s head and neck and felt more than heard his purr. He looked up at her with his clawed hands extended as if grasping something small, then wiggled his thumbs. 

After a moment of bafflement realization struck. Chuckling, Elsa fished her phone out of an inside pocket of her jacket and handed it to Snow. Despite the device looking like a toy in his large hands, he swiped and tapped with surprising dexterity. James guffawed and Lissa laughed at the sight.

Although texting was a clever workaround for the problem of being unable to speak, it seemed unnecessary to Elsa. “Amor,” she said, “can you shift to your hybrid or human form so you can talk?”

The wolf glanced at her and shrugged.

“Give it a try?” Lissa suggested.

Snow met her eyes briefly, shook his head, then typed with his thumbs in the notes app. 

Elsa shook her head, chuckling. Although Jack had told her that he’d used his phone in his half-wolf form on multiple occasions, watching oversized, clawed thumbs fly over a touchscreen was bizarre and amusing.

Snow held the phone up for Elsa to see. 

this is new we might be able to shift but snow wants to be with you

Elsa felt a goofy smile spread across her face. “He said that this is new. He might be able to shift, but is staying this way for Snow.”

“Aww,” James drawled, grinning at the wolf as he sat crosslegged across from him. “You’re both softies.” Although Lissa didn’t seem so sure, she sat as well.

Elsa remained standing beside Snow, idly running her fingers through his fur as he typed and relaying what he wrote nearly word for word.

after you shot the bear again james cast a spell

it messed up we time traveled to the past all of us

idk why we remember maybe bc of bloodstone

Elsa blinked after saying the last. “The Bloodstone?”

Snow nodded, then typed rapidly. Seconds later Elsa said, “It’s too much to type out, he says. He’ll explain in the morning.”

Clawed thumbs continued moving over the touchscreen, which was slowly accumulating scratches. Elsa mentally shrugged. Screens could be replaced.

we met the order its the sanguine order then i woke up human in romania

“In Romania?” Elsa blurted before relaying the first part of his statement.

James and Lissa frowned at her. “Huh?” James asked.

“Jack said that he woke up human in Romania after we all met the Sanguine Order.”

Lissa tilted her head. “So the Order is actually the Sanguine Order?”

Snow nodded as he typed some more.

Elsa relayed, “Complicated, too much to type,” then gasped upon reading his next statement.

elsa we were apart for a week it was awful it all went wrong so wrong te amo te amo te amo

James leaned forward, worried, as Lissa’s brow furrowed. “What?” 

After putting her arm around Snow’s shoulders as best she could, Elsa decided to keep her reply vague. “He said we were apart for a week and it all went wrong.”

Lissa studied the wolf for a long moment, then asked, “How’d you get back?”

Elsa blinked at her mate’s answer. “Ted,” she relayed.

“You found Ted in the other timeline?” Lissa asked.

Snow nodded.

“Hermano,” Lissa said gently. “Are you sure it was real? I mean… that’s a lot.”

The wolf growled, and Lissa shrank back.

Elsa ran her hands over the soft fur of Snow’s ears and murmured, “Easy, amor.” His growl subsided. She wasn’t sure if what her mate had relayed had actually happened but wasn’t going to get into it now.

James stretched his arms, then made a show of covering a yawn. “I dunno about y’all, but I need sleep.” He looked from Lissa to Elsa to Snow and smiled. “Text me in the morning when everyone’s up. I’ll portal back here. This is a story I want to hear, and not only because my spell messed up.”

“Will do, James,” Elsa replied as the wolf nodded beside her.

The sorcerer turned to Lissa, who still looked rattled. “You probably have camping gear here, but if you wanna come with, Ash and I have a guest bedroom. You know, to save your back.”

James’s diplomacy made Elsa smile. Although she was rolling with it, Elsa was adjusting to being in such close contact with Snow herself. She couldn’t imagine how Lissa felt.

The Latina hesitantly met Snow’s eyes. He dropped his head in deference, Elsa presumed.

“Thank you, James,” she replied. “I’m good. Got an air mattress in the SUV.”

He reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze. “Cool.” Then he stood and began creating another portal. 

After the sorcerer had left, Lissa approached Snow and Elsa with a self-conscious smile. Once in arm’s reach she stopped and extended one arm with her palm down. Holding the wolf’s gaze she said, “I’m glad you’re safe. Both of you.” 

Whining softly, Snow leaned forward to nuzzle Lissa’s hand. After a few moments he pulled back.

Lissa gave Elsa a grateful smile. “Take care of him. Them. Them both.”

“Always,” Elsa assured her.

Snow hugged her close, rumbling and whimpering. Elsa yelped, then let him pull her onto his lap. Her phone fell from his hand to the ground with a thump. “Hey,” she mock scolded, “careful with that!” Snow whined and nuzzled her neck in reply.

A short time later Lissa was secure in the comfort of her SUV while Snow and Elsa, now in a loose T-shirt and shorts, curled up on one of their camping pads with her phone within reach. Elsa was warm—almost too warm—with an enormous, furry wolf wrapped around her. He’d left the remains of his overpants on, and she was glad. The last thing she wanted to do was tease an upset werewolf. Once her mate could talk again, they needed to discuss boundaries and the fact that Jack and Snow were in their full wolf form outside of the full moon. How had that happened?

With the luminous tapestry of the Milky Way overhead, Elsa set those concerns aside and enjoyed her mate’s embrace. She was half asleep when Snow moved, stretching one arm forward. 

“Jack, Snow, what?” she grumbled. “I was almost asleep.”

Something scraped on sand, then Elsa heard the quiet sounds of Snow tapping at her phone. Her mate nudged with his snout, so she pried her eyes open to see what he’d written.

i can prove that what i said really happened

“It’s okay, amor,” Elsa sighed. She didn’t want to think about it now.

Snow huffed, then typed some more.

one of the hunters at your fathers funeral belonged to the order im sure of it

The statement wrenched Elsa fully awake. “What? You…” She frowned, wondering how on earth he could know that.

Snow’s clawed thumbs flew over the scratched touchscreen.

i went to the funeral again to return to you and save ted it didnt work but ted sent me back here

i will text pedro about the hunter we need to go back to the manor to research the order i know some of their names now

Elsa stared at the phone, stunned. Somehow Jack had become human and ended up in 2023 in time to attend her father’s funeral and that fucked-up hunt again. It didn’t seem possible, but neither did experiencing other people’s memories nor shooting a grizzly bear that should have died over a hundred years ago. While she still didn’t fully believe her mate’s story, she knew that he believed it. Elsa accepted that it was possible. That was enough for now.

She twisted around in his arms to look up at him. Despite knowing she’d find a wolf’s head, not seeing an at least mostly human face was disconcerting. Ignoring that, Elsa said, “We’ll go back and research, amor. Can you sleep now? Do you need to hunt?”

Snow hugged her close and nuzzled her neck before returning his attention to her phone.

want to stay with you we’ll sleep eventually good night mi vida i really miss talking

Her mate’s last statement prompted giggles. “I bet. I miss kissing you too.” 

With flecks of Jack’s green dancing in gold eyes, Snow leaned forward and licked her cheek, just a little.

Grinning, Elsa smacked his shoulder. “Brat.” 

With his purr-growl rumbling in his chest, Snow rolled on to his back holding Elsa close. Part of her nagged that cuddling with a full-on werewolf was at least weird, and probably stupid and dangerous. The rest of her said to shut up and relax. Jack was present, and he and Snow loved her. If the story he’d conveyed were true, a fully human Jack had traveled from Romania to Bloodstone Manor knowing the danger he’d walk into to rescue Ted and be with her.

Elsa smiled. 

Safe and warm and loved, she drifted off to sleep.