Page 30 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

“Jo, breathe,” he ordered in that deep, calm voice she loved so much, then let go of her hair to cup her cheek. “We aren’t sure of anything yet.”

“Yeah, okay.” She exhaled, leaning into his touch. “Okay.”

Dylan pulled out his chair, flipped the plastic seat backward, and straddled it. “The twins aren’t the only Glaofin missing.”

“Kincaid is working with the Guard to investigate the disappearances in this area.” Jacob brushed the bridge of her nose with his thumb before letting her go.

“There’ve been others?”

“Four, including my sire.”

“I thought he left when you were still a young pup?” Johnnie kept her tone soft, knowing Dylan didn’t like to talk about his family. His mother and infant brother died in childbirth when he was eight years old. His father went wolf soon after their deaths and left Dylan to be raised by his uncle.

“He did.” Dylan stared out the wide glass doors that led to the unspoiled forest beyond his backyard.

The gorgeous fall day a mockery of the somber conversation taking place inside.

“My uncle was informed by Remington’s people when my sire claimed territory in the Upper Peninsula.

After I reached my majority, I started receiving the periodic updates on my sire instead.

But the reports stopped eighteen months ago, and I didn’t know what to think until Príoh Walker contacted me. ”

“Sherman Kincaid disappeared without a trace,” Jacob continued. “Like the others.”

“I needed to know what happened to him.” The words were garbled, the tips of Dylan’s canines peeking from beneath his upper lip. “I wasn’t forced into exile, Johnnie. I asked for it.”

Outcasting was considered a unicorn event in Ferwyn society until the KoH started recruiting them to do their dirty work.

Blatant betrayal of the magical community or its hierarchy was the most common way for a shifter to earn exile status.

All other crimes committed by the Fae Touched—petty to heinous—were dealt with in-house.

Jacob was the one and only shifter she had ever heard of who left his home territory willingly. Well, he was until Dylan’s astonishing admission.

Johnnie realized her mouth had fallen open and snapped it shut.

“My Alpha in Mississippi aided in the deception at Príoh Walker’s request. I understood when I accepted the mission that no one could know the truth.

Our people would panic, and whoever is behind this might disappear before we could discover what happened to our clanmates.

To my father.” He raked his fingers through his short, dark hair.

“I didn’t do the things I was accused of, and I didn’t betray my pack.

I wasn’t a criminal or a coward. I wouldn’t—”

“I never believed it, Dylan. No one in my family did.”

His nostrils widened, and then his eyes briefly closed, smelling the truth in her words.

“Who do you think is behind the kidnappings?” She wouldn’t say killings. Not until it was confirmed. The Glaofin could still be alive; at least, the twins might be as they hadn’t been missing long. “One of the hate groups?”

Johnnie’s stomach plummeted at the possibility. The Ferwyn males now permanently in wolf form would be the perfect target for the KoH. Unlike shifters who belonged to a pack, they wouldn’t be missed right away—if at all.

“We don’t know for sure, but…” Dylan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, his reluctance to say more evident.

“Jo, do you know what the Guild’s tattoo artists use to make witch dye?” Jacob interrupted, changing the topic.

“The ashes of their ancestors’ bones.” Johnnie wondered what Anwyll ink had to do with the missing wolves. “The older the better.”

It was general knowledge among the magical community that the Guild kept meticulous records of Anwyll burial sites, their forefathers traditionally buried in enchanted sand to preserve the bones for future generations.

“And battle witches?” Jacob pushed.

“I assumed the league of Anwyll grandmasters reserved the oldest bones for them,” she said on a shudder. The white symbols embedded into a witch’s skin were undeniably beautiful, but the main ingredient for the stunning tattoos skeeved her out.

Jacob removed the lukewarm latte from her death-grip, and her stomach dropped again. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say next.

“There’s another source.” He weaved their fingers together. “A source ten times stronger than the oldest Anwyll skeleton.”

“Another?” Jacob’s expression gave nothing away, but an emotion she could only describe as righteous fury leaked through the bond, and Johnnie just knew . “It’s Ferwyn bones, isn’t it?”

Unlike witches and vampires, shifters were a natural product of Faery. When in wolf form they were Faery, their bones drenched in their homeland’s magic.

“You know that the original Fae apprentices were completely human, right?” Dylan’s irises glowed yellow, then brown, then yellow again. Jacob growled low. A warning for the younger shifter to regain control.

She nodded.

“The incantations were just pretty words spoken without the—”

“Magic to fuel them,” Johnnie whispered, the back of her throat aching.

“The Fae tried to manufacture it in the chosen few. They sketched ancient symbols into the humans’ skin with ink made from a concoction of Ferwyn ash and God knows what else, hoping to instill magic into their blood.”

“And it worked.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” She squeezed Jacob’s hand while listening intently to the eye-opening revelations Dylan laid out for her.

“The spells the initial students produced were inherently weak or failed completely. The Fae’s experiment ,” Dylan sneered, but his eyes had returned to light brown, “didn’t show real results until the children exposed to magic in the womb were born. They were the first true Anwyll.”

“How do you know all this?” When she met Dylan, he was pursuing a master’s degree in wildlife conservation, not the secrets of ancient Anwyll history.

“Príoh Walker entrusted me with the information after I agreed to the mission. There were three others along with my father who were making their homes in either the Upper Peninsula or Northern Michigan area.”

“Then Peter joined Patrick, and that made five Glaofin to keep your eyes on.”

“I’ve only come in contact with one other retired male besides the brothers since joining the Fowler Pack. The rest seemed to have vanished into thin air. The two in the UP have been missing for years.”

“Battle witches still use our bones, Jo.”

“What?” Johnnie swayed in her seat, Jacob’s abrupt announcement knocking her world even further off its axis. He pulled their linked hands to his jaw and rubbed her knuckles along the scruff on his chin.

Dylan leaned forward and explained. “Our race has burned the bodies of our dead since coming to this realm. We weren’t opposed to the Anwyll utilizing our remains when we fell in battle or died naturally. It helped hide us from humans before they knew we existed.

“Using our ashes only became an issue after the gateway between the realms was closed. Not enough of us were dying in wolf form without the House wars in Faery, and the Anwyll were forced to find another resource for their ink.”

“I had no idea,” she breathed.

“Neither did I until my sire disappeared. Along with battle witches, only the highest-ranking Fae Touched leaders in the world and the reclusive members of the Guild know about the superior properties of Ferwyn ink.”

“And they’ve kept this a secret for ten centuries? How is that possible?”

“The Guild controls its distribution and deals with betrayal harshly,” Jacob said. “If not, we would have gone to war long ago.”

“But you still think the witches are behind the missing wolves?” Johnnie knew evil existed in this world, and it wasn’t exclusive to humanity.

“If not the perpetrators, then the recipients.” Dylan wiped a hand down his face. “Who else would benefit from stealing an old wolf?”

Who else?

Johnnie would have gasped if she could draw in a full breath. Instead, she felt her hands begin to shake, her bare toes feeling as if they rested on a slab of ice rather than worn hardwood.

Was it possible the Elven Lord was behind the disappearances?

She licked dry lips and turned to Jacob, strangling the panic that threatened to choke her by the skin of her teeth. Dylan didn’t know—couldn’t know—about the Fae.

Jacob brushed his lips across her cold fingers, pride strumming through the mating link. Dylan didn’t appear to notice her sudden rise in fear.

“I’m heading into the forest to try to pick up the Willows’ trail again. I would appreciate it if you’d come along, beta. I could use your wolf’s help.”

“Large area to cover,” Jacob agreed, saving the Ferwyn’s swallowed pride. His gray’s nose and tracking skills were second to none. “Alarm system?”

“The cabin might not look like much, but the security is top notch.” Dylan turned to Johnnie. “You’ll be safe inside my home while we’re gone.”

“Go.” Johnnie managed a small smile. She had her guns, her claws if provoked, and it was a bright, sunny day. She would be fine.

“We’ll be back before nightfall.” Jacob left the table.

Before the vampires came out to play.

“You’re welcome to anything you can find in the kitchen but check the expiration dates first. There are a few paperbacks on top of the dresser in my bedroom, and the password for the Wi-Fi is RedbirdNation. Capital R, Capital N.”

“Still a St. Louis fan, I see.” She sighed, feigning a sad frown. “Shame.” The final dig came without thought, the familiar ribbing surprisingly natural. After all the past hurt, Johnnie almost forgot they’d once been friends.

“Still sticking with the can’t-win-it-all Braves?” he fired back, that lazy grin returning.

“Not all of us take the easy road,” she continued to bait him, standing along with the males.

“Hey now, you know I’ve been a Cardinal fan since—”

“Let’s go, Kincaid,” Jacob spoke through closed teeth, the sliding glass doors leading to the yard banging open against the wooden frame. He’d apparently had enough of their little stroll down memory lane.

There were things you could count on when it came to male behavior in relation to an unfinished bond.

Possessiveness ranked near the top of the list, written in indelible ink just underneath overprotectiveness.

Lifting on tiptoes, she placed a reassuring kiss on Jacob’s clenched jaw, then sobered at the reminder of the day’s mission. “Good luck.”

Jacob grunted in response, and she turned away.

He halted her with a single word, “Jo.”

She sensed him at her back a second later, his chin landing on the top of her head where it slid back and forth. Once. Twice. Three times before he let her go.

“Stay inside.”

She nodded, throat and heart too full to speak.