Page 8 of Big Top Bear Raid (Wolves of Stone Ridge #64)

IT TOOK EVERY BIT OF self-control Zion had to obey his alpha and remain in his seat. He wanted to tear through the place and find his cousin. His mind still reeled with the knowledge that Acadia hadn’t been dead all this time.

Instead, some asshole is forcing him to perform circus tricks.

Zion had heard Ringmaster Goldsteen claim that they would see Borus the Bear—really, what kind of dumb name was that—again later that night.

He feared what other indignity his cousin would be forced to perform.

Zion was also certain that, if it weren’t for Wraith keeping up his neck massage, he would’ve caused a hell of a scene...and maybe even outed shifters.

“When they bring him back out, would you prefer to go to the bikes?”

Wraith asked quietly, worry filling his brown eyes. Evidently, his perceptive mate had picked up on his thoughts.

“Would it be easier on you that way?”

Zion hesitated for a few seconds.

On the one hand, he wanted the opportunity to see his cousin again.

Except, on the other hand, he wasn’t certain even his mate could get him to keep still a second time around.

Especially since, traditionally, when performers came out to do a second act, they upped their show.

That meant that asshole warlock will probably have Acadia do something even more ridiculous.

“Yeah,”

Zion muttered, hanging his head.

“Yeah, that’d probably be best.”

I’ll see him when he walks in, then split.

With that thought in mind, Zion sat and stared.

He vacantly watched the trapeze artists while finishing his nachos.

While Zion figured they still tasted fantastic, he barely noticed.

Even the neat tricks and flips the trapeze artists performed didn’t actually hold his attention.

Instead, Zion thought about how Acadia had managed to survive over the last year and a half.

Had he been with the circus the entire time? If he was, had the warlock forced him to perform the same tricks for all that time?

Then it occurred to Zion.

At least performing tricks was better than being forced to kill innocents.

He mentally winced at that thought, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it.

Zion had so many memories of slaughtering people on demand. He would never know just how many deserved it and how many didn’t.

Gods, don’t think about it.

“Hey, you okay, Zion?”

Wraith asked, drawing Zion’s attention. Then he rolled his eyes.

“Of course, you’re not okay. I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Wraith mumbled.

“That was a stupid thing to ask.”

“It’s fine,”

Zion whispered back, knocking his head gently against Wraith’s.

“It’s one of those knee-jerk reaction questions.”

“We’ll get through this.”

Wraith smiled tightly, his expression serious as he promised.

“We’ll figure out how to save your cousin.”

Then he frowned as he asked.

“Didn’t I hear something about the spells having to be countered by a warlock?”

After a quick glance around, Wraith whispered.

“Something about Death?”

Zion grimaced even as he nodded. He knew his mate was referring to the counterspell discovered by Death, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Undergoing the spell’s effects had been excruciating, but it had freed them.

I’d do it every damn day to be free of the curse.

Okay, perhaps that’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Scoffing at his mental wanderings, Zion placed his nearly empty nacho tray on the floor under his bench seat. He wrapped his arm around Wraith and leaned against him. Zion let out a sigh as he relaxed beside Wraith, letting his mate’s scent, warmth, and the feel of him against him soothe his frazzled nerves.

“We’ll stop this guy and whoever he’s working with,”

Zion vowed quietly.

“Yes, we will.”

Upon hearing Wraith’s affirmation, Zion smiled just a little. He turned his attention to the show. As Zion watched clowns act stupid, he wondered just how many people in the circus troupe were actually involved.

Just a few? Or nearly all of them?

We’ll figure it all out.

ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES later, Ringmaster Goldsteen was back in the center ring.

“I hope you all have been enjoying our antics so far,”

he called out, and cheers erupted, nearly making Zion’s ears ring. The ringmaster grinned broadly, clearly enjoying that response. When he lifted his hand, calling for silence once more, the yelling died down.

“We’re going to step away for a brief intermission,”

Ringmaster Goldsteen told everyone.

“It’s time to change a few sets in preparation for our second segment.”

As the ringmaster used his baton to point toward the exits, a soft melody began to play.

“Feel free to get up, wander through the shops, or get some refreshments.”

With another broad grin, Ringmaster Goldsteen declared.

“I’ll see you all back here in twenty minutes.” Then the ringmaster turned and strode from the ring, waving the whole way.

As soon as Ringmaster Goldsteen was out of sight, the humans around them seemed to come out of whatever trance they’d been in.

They smiled and chattered, extolling how much they were enjoying the show and sharing their favorite parts.

Then many of them began to rise and head out, expressing an interest in checking out the shops or finding a snack.

“Good gods,”

Wraith whispered, staring at the retreating people in amazement.

“Thank you so much for drawing me out of that enchantment.”

Zion forced a smile as he eyed Wraith’s shell-shocked expression.

“You’re welcome, my mate.”

He couldn’t resist pecking a kiss to his wolf’s temple.

“While I hope we aren’t faced with magick-wielders often, I’ll always make certain to keep you safe.”

Before Wraith could respond, his warm smile answer enough, Zion’s attention was drawn by a man using the benches as steps and heading straight toward them.

He was tall, perhaps six-foot-four, and lean.

If Zion was into labels, he’d classify him as a beanstalk. He wore a pair of light brown khaki pants, a dark-green button-down shirt under a half-zipped leather jacket, and hiking boots.

Zion also noticed the bulge of a shoulder holster under the jacket.

“Relax, man,”

the guy stated by way of greeting.

“I’m not going to cause you or your mate any trouble.”

His green eyes swept over the group.

“Any of you.”

Without invitation, he settled on the bench seat behind Zion and Wraith.

“Shifters, right?”

His gaze roved over them again, and his voice was low, just carrying over the music.

“Most of you anyway.” Then he held out his hand to Zion.

“I’m Detective Mathers, and I want to talk to you guys about your comments on magick.”

Taking Detective Mathers’ hand, Zion shook and released on reflex, keeping his strength in check. He looked toward Congo for guidance. With an arched eyebrow, he silently asked his alpha what the hell he wanted him to say to the guy.

“Ah, so you’re the alpha,”

Detective Mathers stated astutely. He moved down a bench to sit beside Wraith, then held his hand out to Congo.

“Please, call me Mike.”

“Mike,”

Congo greeted with a nod.

“I’m Congo.”

After releasing the detective’s hand, he tipped his chin toward Zhaul.

“My mate, Zhaul.”

Then Congo went around the group and made a quick round of introductions.

Resting his forearms on his thighs, Mike leaned forward.

“So, magick?”

He glanced around at the few people still sitting in the stands.

“If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Yeah, magick is real,”

Congo confirmed. He kept his voice low as he admitted.

“It’s been used against us before, so we know the signs.”

After glancing at a pair of men sitting fifty feet to their left, the only ones still in their section, Congo murmured.

“We’ve recognized at least two spells. Some kind of enchantment to enthrall the crowd with the show, and now an impulse coercion spell so people will buy more stuff.”

“Huh.”

Mike threaded his fingers together and nodded slowly.

“Magick would certainly make sense for how they convinced Mayor Ryker Samuels to approve their application.”

“What do you mean?”

Congo asked.

Mike let out a deep sigh.

“Well, I’ve been friends with Ryker since grade school, and I know he’s not a fan of animals being used in circuses.”

Looking toward the alley where the performances—animals included—entered and exited the rings, Mike told them.

“I could regale you with all sorts of fun facts that he’s told me over the years, but I won’t. Let’s just say, their lives aren’t good.”

Meeting Congo’s gaze again, Mike claimed.

“He was all set to deny their application to stop and perform here, but then he met with the ringmaster and the bear handler, Lawrance Walker.”

His expression betrayed how troubled his tale was making him.

“According to Maggie, his receptionist, they spent fifteen minutes alone in his office, and when they came out, they shook and acted like old friends, and their application had been approved.”

“Yeah, he got bamboozled,”

Madagascar muttered, scowling. Then his expression cleared as he cocked his head and asked what Zion was wondering.

“So, how do you know about us, man?”

Madagascar sniffed none-too-discretely.

“I know you’re human, and your scent isn’t mixed with a paranormal’s like you’re mated to one.”

He grinned as he teased.

“Get bit by a vampire and you’re part of the one percent of humans that can’t have their mind tranced?”

Mike chuckled as he shook his head.

“Well, I am part of that one percent, and it does have to do with a vampire, but not like that.”

Then he winked and added.

“But a vampire’s bite is damn enjoyable.”

While Madagascar gaped, Mike laughed before sobering and telling them.

“My half-brother is a vampire. My mother was a donor who got knocked up by one of the coven.”

Shaking his head, Mike admitted.

“She isn’t known for making the best choices, and when she started dating a human, she got knocked up again.”

With a shrug, Mike continued.

“Anyway, I’ve known about the paranormal since day one.”

“Huh,”

Madagascar mumbled.

“How about that.”

“Well, we know that Lawrance is a warlock,”

Congo shared, getting them back on track.

“If he did use magick on Mayor Ryker to get their application approved, that’s against the Circle of Mages’ edicts.”

Congo scowled as he grumbled.

“He’s broken the law, therefore rogue, and we can have him brought in for punishment.”

“That’s not the only law he’s broken,”

Zion pointed out, unable to keep silent. Clenching the hand not wrapped around Wraith, he declared.

“I don’t think he’s gonna make it to the Circle of Mages, Congo.”

Congo smirked as he jerked a nod. Valentine snickered coldly. Madagascar grinned. While Zhaul and Ishmael exchanged worried looks, Stone chuckled, sounding a little sinister.

“What else has he done?”

Mike asked, glancing between them warily.

“Something serious, I’m guessing.”

“Oh, yeah,”

Zion confirmed, his anger surging anew.

“That bear you saw? He’s a shifter.”

Seeing Mike’s brows shoot up and his jaw sag open, Zion continued.

“And he’s my cousin. Acadia. I thought he was dead.”

“Damn,”

Mike muttered, frowning.

“How’s he getting him to cooperate?”

“Spells,”

Congo told him with a growl in his voice.

“Extremely painful spells.”

Mike nodded slowly, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you know from experience.”

“Yeah,”

Valentine grumbled.

“First-hand experience.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he told Mike.

“We were all bespelled at the same time, but we were told Acadia had been killed before we were rescued.”

Valentine held Stone close, probably for comfort.

Zion knew he was doing the same. Only holding his mate grounded him, keeping him from doing something stupid...like tearing through the circus grounds searching for Acadia.

“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking,”

Mike began slowly, glancing around the group.

“Why are you sitting here and not rescuing your cousin?”

“There’s just a few problems with that,”

Congo explained, a hint of a growl in his voice.

“While we are immune to magick, our mates are not.”

“No way we want them in the line of fire from a warlock,”

Madagascar claimed, rubbing his hand up and down Ishmael’s arm.

“Plus, we don’t know if there’s more than one. He could have a trainee or two that we don’t know about, yet.”

“The biggest factor, though, is we don’t have a way to move him,”

Valentine stated with a scowl.

“Move him?”

Mike appeared as confused as his tone conveyed.

“If you get him away, won’t he shift?”

Shaking his head, Congo explained.

“He can’t shift unless he’s ordered to by a magick-wielder or his alpha.”

His expression turned pensive as he admitted.

“And while I used to be his alpha, he’s been away from us for over a year and a half. I don’t know if he’d still recognize me as such, so I can’t take the risk.”

“Yeah, not like you can shove a bear into your car,”

Mike murmured, nodding as he tapped his chest.

“Even with a detective for an escort.”

“And if he doesn’t recognize me as his alpha any longer, we literally can’t move him,”

Congo explained further.

“The spells that bind him won’t let him.”

“Harsh.”

Mike heaved a sigh as he rubbed his thighs.

“So what are you going to do?”

He glanced up as a group of people entered their section, returning to their seats. Lowering his voice, Mike told them.

“I need to know what you’re going to do so I know what I’ll need to do to cover up any paranormal aspects.”

With a scoff, he muttered.

“The mayor may be my friend, but he doesn’t know about your kind.”

Congo held out his hand.

“Give me your phone.”

Mike slipped his hand inside his jacket, and when Zion wasn’t the only one who tensed, he stilled. Glancing around at everyone, he arched one brow. Slowly, Mike finished the move, drawing out his phone as opposed to his gun.

“Well, now,”

Mike drawled as he handed over his phone.

“Guess if I’d had spells cast on me, I’d be jumpy, too.”

Zion cocked his head as something occurred to him.

“How were you not affected by the spells in the music?”

He’d noticed every time the ringmaster had been issuing subtle commands, there’d been music playing, so it wasn’t hard to put it together.

“We had to pull our mates out of it.”

Mike took back his phone as he shrugged.

“Don’t know,”

he admitted as he glanced at his phone’s screen.

“Maybe it’s the same reason a vampire’s trancing ability doesn’t work on me.”

Maybe.

But Zion sure wondered at that.