Slow Shift by Nazarea Andrews (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📗

He holds him until the day is fading, until Lucas slips into his room and curls at their feet, muddy and vibrating with tension and sadness.

He holds him, until Tyler says softly, “I miss them.”

He holds him, until he sobs, breaking in his arms, clinging with a desperation Chase knows, that he feels in his bones when he thinks of his mother, that he knows will be gone—hidden away again—tomorrow.

He holds him until it’s over, until the day ends in a quiet anticlimactic tick of the clock and the anniversary of the anniversary is gone again for another year.

He holds him, until Tyler is the first one to let go.

~*~

Chase and Ben are walking through the forest in late October when it happens. He's half listening to Ben talking about Brielle, tuning it out as he picks his way along, making note of the wards he needs to renew. He pauses when he sees the belladonna. It’s blooming, bright purple against the golden leaves going brown on the ground, and he stares at it, uneasy.

“Holy shit, dude,” Ben says, and Chase looks at him, distracted.

And it’s there.

The Standing Stones, exactly as he saw them his dreams, are right there. He shivers. Around him, the air seems to ripple. Distantly he can hear Ben saying something and the familiar howl of a wolf. He closes his eyes.

It’s quiet, almost whispering as it snakes around him, wraps him in power and intent. Chase breathes out, moving without ever really deciding to.

A howl rips through the air, past the murmuring whisper of the Stones, and he hesitates for just a second.

Then he touches it, fingers brushing against the smooth rock. Power, pure and immense, floods through him.

~*~

It’s Tyler who yanks him away from the Stones, pulls him back almost violently while Lucas snarls, shifted and frightened and frightening.

“It’s—no, no, stop,” Chase babbles, “It’s not going to hurt me. It’s ok.”

“That damn thing brought you here,” Tyler snaps.

“It’s not dangerous!” Chase insists. His fingers tingle and he breathes, anxious and itching to reach back out for it. “It’s—it’s dying. It wants to help us.”

Lucas snorts. “And what does it want in return?”

Chase shakes his head, helpless, because he saw—what it would take, what he would do to protect the power in the stones, the power that belongs to the land, the land that belongs to the Reid Pack, his Pack.

“Me,” he says simply, and listens to his wolves rage.

~*~

It’s only when Tyler vanishes into the forest, too furious to stay, that Chase stands, sighing and brushing his hands off. Lucas stands between him and the Standing Stones, keeping him away from the rippling power.

He turns, and there’s Ben, pale with wide-eyed confusion.

“What the fuck, dude?” Ben demands.

Chase sighs, while Lucas—fucker—chuckles and sweeps past him. “So, uh... I should explain.”

Chapter 15

Ben’s staring at him, and Chase sighs. This isn’t how he wanted Ben to find out. If he’s honest, he never wanted Ben to find out. The werewolves, the Reids, are his and he doesn’t want to share, not this, not even with his best friend.

He’s very aware how shitty that makes him, but after a lifetime of sharing everything with Ben, he feels justified in keeping this one thing his—except now it isn’t. It’s Ben’s secret too, and he feels a flash of jealousy that he’s immediately guilty over.

“Dude, what the hell?” Ben asks, bewildered. “They—what are they? What are you?”

Chase squints at his best friend, then at where Lucas is leaning against a tree, picking at his nails. “Uh. Well. They’re werewolves? And I’m....magic?”

“Is this why your dad hates them?”

Lucas chokes on a laugh and Chase glares at him, then Ben. “Dad doesn’t hate them, he’s just protective.”

“Yeah. But I always thought that was 'cause the Reids were some weird cult and you were their nubile sex slave.”

Chase gapes at his expression and Lucas smirks. “Nubile—very nice, Ben.”

Ben preens. “Thanks, man.”

Chase flails. “They’re not a cult, you idiot!”

Ben nods and grins. “I get that now.”

It’s only when they’re alone in Chase’s Jeep, and his breathing has steadied again, that Ben smirks and says, “But you don’t deny the sex slave thing.”

Along their pack bond, he feels a spike of amusement from Lucas and he slams his head against the steering wheel, groaning. “I hate you so much.”

~*~

The Standing Stones don’t stop calling him. November deepens, twists into December, and his dreams deepen along with it, a chill in his limbs, but now he doesn’t fight it. The magic of the ancient Stones sings through him when he sits on the ground, and he can feel the entire forest. Sometimes he thinks he can hear it whispering, a soft noise lost in the sound of his wolves crying for his attention.

You can protect us.

You can protect Harrisburg.

You can protect them.

Sometimes the Stones are benevolent and show him the strength of the forest with his magic rippling through it, the Stones tall and strong and sturdy.

Sometimes he runs between his wolves and he can feel it the power of the ley lines he can stabilize pounding under his feet, a siren song.

Sometimes he lies in a quiet meadow under a star-studded blanket and he can feel the thrum of every animal, every heartbeat in the preserve, in Harrisburg, and he can feel Lucas Tyler Dad pack.

But sometimes....

Sometimes he wakes screaming, terrified of the dreams spun by the Standing Stones, of a world on fire, of his Pack dead and Aurora screaming, of a demon wearing his face and killing Ben. He dreams of monsters with bloody claws and the sky turned thick with smoke from a fire.

You can stop this, the Standing Stones whisper in his dreams, and he feels black ice sliding through his veins, the low crackle of power as a witch digs her nails into his chest, into his heart, ripping it from him as he screams.

~*~

He makes a face, but this is overdue, long overdue, and he knows it.

The phone rings twice and then a sharp voice