Wolf Spell 1 Read online

  By

  M. R. Polish

  * * * * *

  Wolf Spell

  Copyright © 2012 by M. R. Polish

  Cover created by Jenny Laatsch

  Esmerelda model: Amber Hunsaker

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are purely fictitious. Any resemblances to any persons, living or dead, are completely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Eighteen Years Ago…

  “Run Adonia!” Torres cried out to Adonia as she hurried from the grove. He stood with his muscles tense, ready to defend his beloved and their unborn child. Her heavy footsteps became distant on the forest floor, and gave him hope that she escaped.

  Magical beings fought together for years to stop Nicholas, but when they found out Adonia carried a child after hundreds of years it became worse. Running to protect them became a way of life for the last eight and a half months.

  A distinctive low moan sounded from down the mountain. He twisted and scanned the trees. He was not sure how many there were, but he was certain with Hela’s help—his spirit wolf—they could hold them off long enough to let Adonia flee safely.

  A man emerged from behind the trees to his right. Torres’s heart twisted with grief as he recognized the once proud warlock that now sprouted fangs and craved blood.

  His wife’s magical race was quickly becoming extinct. Nicholas turned them into vicious creatures of the night against their will. Crossbreeds, who were half-magic and half-vampire.

  There was a problem. The crossbreeds were not surviving. They died off before Nicholas could find a way to utilize their full potential as his bonded slaves. He was irate and hastily searched for a solution to his problem. He needed Torres’ unborn child. The council of the five witches prophesied her to be one of the most powerful in the magical line. Nicholas needed her to complete the transformation spell, and seal the fate of the world into his hands.

  Torres spun around, looking for more. Why was there only one? Surely, Nicholas would send more than one dying man to capture Adonia. The older man he once knew sent a small power surge out to seize him, but Torres was faster. He took a deep breath before charging at the old man. Jumping with him, Hela helped take him down.

  Torres only had one magical ability, but it would be of no help here. He needed to rely on his physical training. He dodged the next blast of magic and lunged forward. His feet landed in the middle of the man’s chest and knocked him over. Without hesitating, he reached for his belt he had worn over the last two hundred years, pulled out a wooden stake, and stabbed him.

  The body turned a charcoal color. He would have to come back later to take his head and burn him. A full vampire decayed and turned to ash when killed, but a crossbreed needed additional actions to assure death. The small amount of magic inside them could keep them in a deathlike state, awaiting to awaken, unless those protocols happened. If Nicholas ever found a way to use Torres’ child, it would be enough to revive all the crossbreeds from death.

  Adonia screamed from farther down the mountain. Never before did his legs carry him so fast. He jumped over fallen trees, and then trudged through a small creek that fed the mountain river lower down.

  For a short moment, he stopped to listen. Muffled moans and crying broke the silence. Stepping lightly on the forest floor, he followed the sounds. He found Adonia tied with rope. The crossbreeds were dragging her along the path.

  He could feel his anger boil in the depths of his soul as he watched them with his wife. Jumping out from behind the bushes, he grabbed whatever stakes he had left in his belt, and began swinging. Even a sliver of a wood grain could slow down a full vampire, so a scratch surely would cause a crossbreed—who was dying—to slow down. That is what he hoped would happen.

  He had gotten at least ten down before one rushed at him swinging a large branch. He ducked, but the limb caught him on the back of the head. The blunt pain knocked him down, and then the whole world became dark.

  Adonia screamed in pain. Never before had she experienced such severe pain. She took another deep breath, and tried to concentrate. Not only was she in labor inside the darkness of the underground chambers, but she was also unable to find a way to escape.

  Under the earth, inside the warded cells of dirt, her magic was void, except for minute bursts of energy. Every time she tried to use her powers, it drained her even more.

  Another contraction squeezed her abdomen. She gritted her teeth and groaned. It was hard to focus on her breathing. Finally, it let up, and she gasped in short pants.

  She hoped her husband was okay. Praying they had not killed him back in the woods. Tears stung her eyes. It shouldn’t be this way.

  Another contraction tightened around her stomach. She could feel it was time to push. Adonia thought the pain would not end, but then she heard the most beautiful sound. Her daughter cried, her precious—Esmerelda.

  With what little magic she had left, she held her daughter close, and summoned a protection spell to keep her baby safe. She knew it was only a matter of time before Nicholas would send someone in after her.

  Adonia kissed and kissed her, holding her tight. Her tears washed her newborn infant. Light filled the darkness. She knew the time had come. She struggled, holding on as long as she could, but the woman snatched the only thing she had left in the world.

  With Death Starts a New Beginning

  – Arabeth –

  Present day, October 6, 2012

  I ran my hand along the familiar wooden railing. Each step downstairs brought a painful stab to my heart. The flowing black dress I wore danced around my ankles with each movement. I pulled my sweater around my chest tighter, wrapping it around me to create a cocoon of comfort.

  I could feel my cheeks grow hot, and I brushed off the fresh tears that continued to flow since her death, trying not to ruin my freshly applied makeup. On the last step, I hesitated. It was as if contact with the cold tile would cause it to crack and swallow me whole. I gulped back another sob and touched the toe of my shoe down. The tap from the sole hitting against the floor echoed in the deserted room.

  I kept my arms folded around my chest, and stood there with my eyes closed. I took in a long breath and anticipated the familiar scent of lilacs that my mom smelled like. I exhaled and opened my eyes—a stale and bitter stench came from a row of empty beer bottles lined up on the marble countertop. I couldn’t remember the last time my dad drank. It was hard to know he did this so soon after her de
ath. I didn’t want to think about him finding a release from grief at the bottom of a bottle.

  I clenched my fists as I stormed across the kitchen floor to the row of alcohol containers. It took all the restraint I had not to yell. I had come home for her funeral, but maybe it was a mistake to stay in this house. All of the bittersweet memories filled me. Every fight they ever had, every curse, and every slammed door.

  Grabbing each bottle, I threw them on the floor, and watched as shimmers of glass exploded around me. Tiny brown slivers danced across the tile, and my world crashed down along with them. I was so angry that my hands shook. It felt good to throw something. A petty tantrum I know, but in some weird way I needed to do it.

  “What are you doing?” I jumped as my dad’s unexpected voice filled the room.

  I turned as he entered the kitchen. The black tailored jacket he wore complimented his six-foot frame, and the white collared shirt underneath showed off his sun-tanned complexion. He had combed back his thick chestnut hair, and his face was clean-shaven. Something he rarely did. I was in awe as I looked up at him—he towered over my five foot six inches. I’d never saw him wear a suit before, and it caused my gut to twist as I became more conscious to the reality of the day.

  “Today… you couldn’t have respect for her today? Drinking? Come on Dad. I know you guys had problems, but there had to be something you both agreed on. You must have loved her at least once. You married her.”

  He fidgeted with his hands, tightening and un-tightening them into fists. “We agreed on you.”

  I shifted my weight to one leg and lowered my gaze. I wasn’t sure what to say anymore.

  His shoulders slumped. “Just clean it up please.”

  My heart shattered into a million pieces. Raw pain filled my soul. I could feel the intense burn all the way down in my fingertips. I nodded and blinked back tears as the glass crunched under my high-heels.

  I hated this… all of it. Why did she have to leave so soon? Maybe they could’ve found happiness one day. I snatched the broom and dustpan. My mind and thoughts wandered away as I cleaned up the glass. I was numb, void of any emotion that had overwhelmed me in the previous moments. It was as if I could see the mess, but couldn’t comprehend why it was there or what I’d done.

  I dropped down to my knees and choked back sobs. Shards and slivers from the bottles still covered the floor, except for the few pieces that I managed to sweep into the dustpan. They lay scattered on the tile and glistened through my blurred, tear streaked vision. What was I doing? What was the point in cleaning it up?

  “Arabeth.” I could hear my dad’s low voice. It was almost a whisper, but my own mental anguish consumed me, and it took several moments before I could react to him.

  I looked up, but turned my gaze away from him. Knowing I should answer him, but feeling too empty to say anything. Avoiding his eyes was hard because I knew what I’d find. My own distress mimicked in his aqua pupils.

  When I moved out into my own apartment, I’d thought almost every day about my mom and dad. They’d never gotten along. I worried about them, but now she was dead. I had my dad and my best friend Ailaina, but that was it. I never made many friends in school. The other kids labeled me as the weird one. I tossed the dustpan to the floor with a sigh.

  “I want to tell you something, but... What if I said… Damn it. I still can’t say it.” He clenched his fists and hit the counter.

  “Just say it! Whatever it is, I’m a big girl, you can tell me.”

  His jaw clenched, and he rubbed his hands over his face. “Just remember, I did it for you.”

  I threw my arms up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your mom and I... Every time I argued with her there was a reason. A reason I can’t explain yet, and it’s killing me. It has killed me for years.” He ran his hands through his hair. A small tendril fell from its perfect place. “I don’t know why I can’t say anything yet. It doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled under his breath. It was strange that I could hear him so well.

  “So I’m supposed to believe growing up, watching you and her yell at each other was all for me?”

  “Arabeth, you don’t understand any of it, but I refuse to go any longer with you thinking I didn’t care because I do care—about you.” He left the kitchen, and I sat there on the floor, distracted by his words. I wasn’t sure what he meant by any of it. I couldn’t handle any more stress right now, so why would he try to put more on me?

  The house was too quiet. I became lost in my thoughts again and stared at the empty entryway. A sharp pain in my left hand made me cry out. Without thinking, I pressed my hand down in the pile of shards. Ugh! Blood dripped down on the broken chunks of glass.

  Without knowing the extent of my wounds, I grasped the counter as leverage to get up with my cut hand. “Ouch!” More blood trickled from my wounds. There must have been a thousand splinters sticking out from my skin. Shifting my weight, I used my other arm on the counter to help me up.

  I leaned against the counter next to the kitchen sink and ran my hands under the cold water. I bit my lip as the liquid stung in every cut. Grabbing the kitchen towel that hung on the fridge, I touched it to my hand carefully, and tried to inspect my palm better. It did no good. All I accomplished was to stain the white towel with the crimson color. Little slits where the glass split my skin shimmered all over as blood flowed from each spot. I let out an aggravated moan and then threw the towel in the sink.

  I needed more than just a towel, but everything was upstairs in the medicine cabinet. I chewed on my lip as I contemplated whether I should leave the kitchen sink or not. The stinging spread through my palm and up my arm. I decided to run up to the bathroom, not caring if I dripped blood on the grey carpet. The door was ajar, so I kicked it with my foot, and it hit against the wall. The vibration from the doorstopper echoed through the upstairs.

  Inhaling, I could smell the scent of flowers from my mom’s favorite TLC perfume. The small, half-full, purple bottle still rested on the counter. With my back against the wall, I sank to the floor. I no longer remembered my cuts. I tried to breathe, but all I got were racking sobs that shook from my chest. It was so hard to know I wouldn’t see her again. I stood up and wiped my tears with the back of my good hand.

  Turning the water on, I sucked in a sharp intake of breath and prepared myself for pain. I centered my hands under the running water. Nothing hurt.

  “What the heck?” My mouth fell open as I watched the water drain clear. The blood was gone. I flipped my hand over and examined it. No scrapes, cuts, or even sparkles of glass.

  Confused, I stared at it. Nothing was wrong with my hand. I remember seeing the blood and glass. How was this possible? I braced myself against the counter with my hip, letting it help support my body. I wasn’t sure how to explain what happened.

  Too much stress caused delusions. Right? Maybe I should have taken Ailaina up on her offer to go away with her and her parents to Australia for the week. The funeral and my mom’s death was too much for my mind to take. I cringed. There was no way I could miss her funeral. Besides, my dad needed me. It didn’t keep me from wishing my friend were with me. She always made everything seem easier.

  I shook it all off and ran my hands under the water once more, splashing my face and neck to cool my skin. A heavy feeling dropped into the pit of my stomach. I could feel time slipping away too fast. It was almost time to leave. The sun was already lower in the sky. My dad wanted a late afternoon graveside service, but I didn’t have the strength to argue about it with him.

  I rushed downstairs but stopped at the kitchen counter. I turned to look at the dustpan I left on the floor. I braced myself against the wall with my healed hand. There was still blood on the glass. I stared at the mess until I heard the roar of the car engine and a honk outside. I didn’t have a car yet, and with Ailaina gone, my dad was my ride to the cemetery.

  I left the kitchen and dashed to the front door. The crisp October air blasted my flushed s
kin making me shiver as I shut the door behind me. It got this cold when snow was close. Maybe this year we’d get a foot or two. I wrapped my sweater around me tighter, hoping to keep the chill from freezing my body. In late fall, Northeastern Nevada was usually cold, but this afternoon seemed even more frigid than usual. It hadn’t been cold until this week.

  My dad waited for me in his silver BMW, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. I opened the passenger side door and sat down, closing the door in one motion.

  Both of us sat in silence as he drove. I bit my cheek to keep from talking about something neither of us wanted to talk about.

  My eyes filled with tears again against my wishes, and I pressed my lips together. I became oblivious to the world around me as I stared at the dashboard. It disturbed me to look up and see the cemetery as we got near. It sat on a hill. Close to the only high school in our little town. Tall trees outlined the fence, giving shade and some protection from the sometimes-harsh winds.

  My heart raced so fast I thought it would explode. I stifled a whimper inside my throat, and my airways felt restricted. I held my breath, not wanting to cry in front of my dad anymore. I covered my face with my hands trying to hide the pain, but nothing could stop what I felt. I gasped for air, and the tears fell.

  He parked along the side of the road, and then opened the door. He reached over and patted my leg. “It’ll be okay kiddo.” He hesitated, but then got out of the car, leaving me there alone.

  It was hard to believe him. Nothing was okay today. Taking another deep breath, I prepared myself for the inevitable. I lifted my head and gazed out the windshield.

  A handful of people arrived early to come say their final goodbyes to my mom. Many of the faces I didn't recognize. It looked as if they were hospital workers and a Bishop from one of the local churches. I assumed it was out of respect that he came since we seldom attended church growing up. I could remember going with friends when I was little. I liked him and remembered his compassion toward my family.