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Fated Alpha

Claire Asher
 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Claire Asher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used

in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner
except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more
information, address: contact@claireasher.com.
 Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
 Chapter 1

I stretched my hands towards the south-facing window and

observed the dark sheen of my black fingernails; they had been
getting lighter since I stopped using magic, and with any luck, they
would one day have a soft pink hue, indistinguishable from humans.
Complete fantasy, of course. But slow days like today are great for
daydreaming.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the fragrant ribbons of smoke
drifting across the store from the incense burner. The tranquil flute
music washed over me as I took a sip of my jasmine lavender tea,
the sweet floral notes washing over my tongue.
A bell jingled as the front door opened and I heard Alice, the
young woman working behind the tea bar, welcome the customer.
My phone buzzed, the noise barely audible over the music from the
stereo speakers in the corner. I pressed my thumb on the screen to
pull up the email.
Third and Final Notice!
Great…
We had until the end of the week to pay the phone bill for the
shop’s landline or it would be shut off. I really didn’t want to go
back to doing online readings again, but if things didn’t pick up
soon, The Sacred Lotus might be done for. I needed to find a way to
keep us afloat, for Mia’s sake.
 “Interesting choice for a profession.” A rugged voice with an exotic
accent pulled me out of my worried thoughts.
The customer, a man in his mid-twenties with sun-soaked skin and
luscious, heart-shaped lips, looked down at me with a pair of dreamy
brown eyes, making me almost choke on my tea. His dark brown
hair was trimmed close to the scalp on the sides and slightly longer
on top.
He pivoted to look back toward the shelves of the books near the
entrance with a smile playing at the corner of his lips. My eyes glided
down the length of his body. Every inch of him was like a work of
art. Perfect.
“It’s, uh...” I cleared my throat. “It has its moments.”
He nodded, moseying toward the left side of the shop to browse
the selection of crystals in the display bins. His well-tailored, high-
end suit complemented his lean, muscular body. Oddly enough,
instead of dress shoes, he wore boots with thick tread on the
bottom. My mouth watered at the earthy smell of cedar and cigar
smoke clinging to his shirt.
“How does someone make a living out of…” He gestured to a shelf
filled with pagan statues. “All this?”
“Are you thinking of a career change?” I folded my arms, raising a
tentative eyebrow. If only I had a nickel for every time someone
came in off the street to make fun of all the “mumbo-jumbo” we
peddle to the “gullible masses.”
“I apologize if I offended you.” He smiled and a gust of butterflies
stirred my stomach. “I’m a skeptic by nature. I only wandered in
here to kill some time. But then, I saw you and couldn't help but be
curious. You seem… pretty normal”
Normal? Me? My face grew warm as I resisted the urge to laugh.
If he only knew the tiniest bit about my life. Normal was about the
last thing I would use to describe myself. Still, it felt nice to have
someone, especially a gorgeous man, wanting to strike up a
conversation with me.
“It’s not as hokey as people think.” I relaxed my guard and tried to
not be so defensive. “I’m more of an intuitive reader.”
“Intuitive?” His brow furrowed.
“Intuition is what your gut tells you.” I shivered as his eyes moved
over my skin. “It’s what makes the hairs on your neck stand up
when you think something bad is about to happen.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You can detect a threat with your
five senses, but it happens so fast you can’t process it. Nothing
mystical about that, just a miracle of biology.”
“Or maybe intuition is just science that we don’t understand yet,” I
laughed softly.
A wide grin spread across his face and he put his hands in his
pockets.
“We can do a quick reading if you want. It could be an interesting
experience to take home with you. Memories from your trip?” I
nodded toward the back patio where my table was set up.
“Who says I’m traveling?” He offered a coy smile.
“That accent doesn’t sound local.” I sauntered toward the open
patio door. “Plus, you’re dressed like you just got out of a business
meeting, and the airport is only a few miles away.”
“Here I was hoping you used your supernatural gifts to reach into
the great beyond,” he said.
“Well, I don’t reach into the great beyond for free.” I took another
sip of tea. “Not even for tall, dark, and handsome strangers with
charming European accents.”
“I’m not that tall.” He laughed, and his eyes drifted to the sunlight
dancing through the stained-glass wind chimes.
 The guy was right about not being tall. His height was average,
but his movements betrayed a grace only possessed by someone in
peak physical condition. I imagined his muscles rippling and rolling
under that expensive suit as he strode onto the patio. His short hair
caught the sunlight, tinging it with a chestnut glow.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll pay double your fee if you can tell me
something true about myself that a stranger couldn’t possibly know.”
He pulled out his wallet and counted out a stack of twenty-dollar
bills. I narrowed my eyes at him.
Is this guy serious?
“Double it, and I’ll tell you what you don’t even know about
yourself.” I swayed to the music. His eyes glinted with a mischievous
smile as he opened his wallet and counted out another hundred and
twenty. Men. Always throwing money around.
Some people love the flashy lifestyle, but I’ve lived it, and believe
me, ropes of diamonds around your neck can feel like a noose. It all
depends on who puts them there.
Everything about the patio reminded me of the Garden of Eden:
the lattice draped with densely lush vines that enclosed the space,
the koi pond with waterfalls bordering the cobblestone yard, and the
large, elegant statue of Gaia at the center that watched over it all.
I gestured to the chair across from mine. Sitting down at the small
square table, I picked up my tarot cards and unwrapped the dark
purple scarf from around them. I closed my eyes and shuffled
several times. Reading for skeptics was always a little stressful. They
didn’t give you much to work with, and I didn’t dare tap into my wolf
magic for something as trivial as a curiosity reading.
The sound of running water from the koi pond soothed my nerves
and I settled into my seat. Relaxing was easier said than done with
the sexy stranger sitting nonchalantly across from me, his brown
eyes glinting like polished amber as he watched me place the cards
in the spread of a Celtic cross. One upright, one sideways on top of
it, one above, one below, one on the left, one on the right, and
finally, four cards in a line on the far right going from the bottom to
top.
Turning the card at the center revealed The Hanged Man, and I
turned over the next five cards to get more context.
“This one,” I tapped on the hanged man, “says that you’re
sacrificing something. Sometimes it can mean that you’re stuck in a
situation you wish you could get out of.” I looked at the Seven of
Cups and the King of Pentacles.
“You’re searching for purpose, and in doing so, have an
opportunity for great prosperity if you make the right choices.” I
turned over the Seven of Swords. “But those choices aren’t going to
be easy. There will likely be some trickery or deception involved.”
“And… in this hypothetical situation, am I supposed to be
deceptive, or will it be someone else?”
I smiled inwardly, sensing his skepticism waver ever so slightly.
“Well, see how this is upside down?” My hand hovered over the
Two of Cups. “This usually means there’s an imbalance of power or a
break in communication. And the Knight of Wands reversed usually
means anger and impulsive behavior. Does that sound like you or
someone you know?”
The muscles in his jaw flexed and those warm brown eyes grew
distant, but he didn’t answer. I pressed my lips together and turned
over the last four cards. People rarely wanted an honest reading
when it came to their future. More often than not, they wanted
comfort or some kind of validation they weren’t getting from the
people closest to them.
Strength, Nine of Wands, The Lovers, and Death. Those cards
could have been interpreted in a number of ways, but sensing the
shift in his mood, I figured I should just quit while I was ahead and
interpret it in the most positive way possible.
 “You have some obstacles ahead, but you possess an otherworldly
inner strength, and you’ll find the courage to do the right thing.” I
forced a smile. “I also see romance in your future–”
“And this?” He pointed to the Death card.
“Death signifies the end of one cycle and the beginning of
something new. It doesn’t always need to be interpreted literally.”
“But you interpret The Lovers to be romance?” He sat back in his
chair.
“That’s where the intuition comes in.” I scooped up my cards and
shuffled them back into my deck.
“Seems like that reading could have applied to anyone.” The
customer wrinkled his nose.
Typical. If I got too specific or too honest, people got
uncomfortable or angry. But if I left things too vague, they accused
me of being a fraud.
Drumming my fingers on my deck of cards, I gave serious
consideration to what I wanted to do next.
I could pay the phone bill with this single reading and have
enough left for groceries. I thought about Mia, my best friend and
business partner, and how much we struggled to pay rent to keep
this shop open. After everything Mia had done for me, this was the
least I could do. I couldn’t let that money walk out the door.
“Let’s try something else,” I said finally, wrapping the scarf around
the deck and setting it aside. I turned my palms upward at the
center of the table and opened and closed my fingers, motioning for
him to give me his hands.
He hesitated for a moment, but nodded and leaned forward. Hard,
calloused, and cut, his hands were not what I expected from a
businessman. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, turning my
perception inward. Focusing on my breath, I slowed my heart rate
and imagined the faint glow of his aura, an iridescent red and purple
mist that swirled and shifted over the surface of his skin like
burgundy flames.
I brought my attention to his heartbeat, soft crimson bursts,
rushing outward from the center of his chest. Silver energy flowed
from my center through my arms and into his body, syncing my
heartbeat with his.
The flames surrounding him rippled as he resisted, but slowly
eased, dimming as they allowed me inside. His warmth poured into
me and I gasped softly at the warm sensation.
My skin crawled with prickly sparks as I struggled to control the
power, but I lost my hold on the spirit and the walls between us
opened like a floodgate. A barrage of emotions swept through me
like fire, overwhelming my thoughts as panic gripped my chest.
Slow down. I reminded myself of what my mother taught me. Let
it happen and it will pass.
“You grew up in a poor family,” I said, startled at the sound of my
voice. “But there was a lot of love in your home. I see… a mother, a
father, and four… no… five siblings.”
His breath trembled, but he didn’t speak.
“Something happened to your father.” I clenched my eyes shut,
trying to glean something more specific but it didn’t come.
“Something like an injury or an accident. He survived.”
“Just barely,” he answered.
“Then you…” I squeezed his hands. “You took a job working for
some bad people. You’ve done things that haunt you... But you do it
so you can provide for your family.”
His aura blazed to life, attempting to force me out. My wolf stirred
in the recesses of my mind, her presence warning me to stop, but I
couldn’t withdraw now even if I wanted to.
“You hate yourself sometimes.” A bitter ache swelled in my chest
and I grimaced at the pain. “You don’t want to be a monster, but…”
 “Enough.” He yanked his hands away and a vision came to me.
The businessman stood, formidable, in a room with several other
men in suits who were just as intimidating. He reached out to shake
someone’s hand and I tensed as a familiar face came into focus.
“Fuck.” I breathed, scrambling to my feet so quickly that my chair
fell over behind me. “My father sent you?”
I took three steps back, my mind instinctively calculating the
closest exit.
“Calm down.” He put his hands up as he slowly got to his feet.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
If I ran through the front door that led out to the busy street, then
the presence of people might have deterred him from pursuing me;
but if he got to me before I reached the door, he might have killed
Alice to eliminate a witness.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Ivy.” He leveled his gaze at me.
The garden gate was closer, and it faced the park, which
contained a labyrinth of footpaths, stairs, and trees that made it
easy to get lost.
I might be able to lose him there.
“I’m not going back.” I jumped back another foot, placing the
chair between us “You’ll have to kill me.”
“Relax.” He inched closer. “I just want to talk to you.”
I let out a nervous chuckle. remembering the Seven of Swords
from his reading. Deception.
Figures. He was easily the most attractive man I had my hands on
in… well, never mind how long it had been. But I knew the kind of
men my father worked with. A stone-cold predator lurked behind
those sweet puppy dog eyes.
You belong to this clan. The memory of my father’s voice cut
straight to my heart. And you will do your duty!
 I had no doubt that the orders for this errand boy were to bring
me back, by any means necessary. My muscles coiled like springs,
and I dug my fingernails into my palms.
It’s now or never. Gathering my courage, I bolted through the
garden gate, sliding into the alleyway, not daring to look over my
shoulder. His footsteps battered the pavement behind me. I pumped
my legs faster as adrenaline surged through my veins.
He might’ve been fast, but I was running for my life.
The chain-link fence separating the park from the alley was a
good five feet high. I kicked off the brick wall of the pizzeria, the
pointed tips of the fence digging into my palms as I climbed over. My
shoulder took the brunt of the impact as I hit the ground and rolled,
leaping back to my feet and darting under a hedge archway.
Moss-covered trees towered over me on all sides, the setting sun
filtering through the golden leaves. Time slowed as I connected with
the soft grassy earth beneath my feet, I felt the life around me from
the trees to the animals that scurried away.
I missed running like this. My wolf missed it. But it wasn’t safe to
run at my full speed in public. The last thing I needed was for
someone to notice that I was different. My survival depended on my
being able to blend in.
My shoulder and collarbone throbbed. I must have hit the ground
harder than I thought, but it didn’t matter. I had to get as far away
from my father’s henchman as I could, and I was doing a decent
job.
I skidded around a corner and ran toward a tall, winding staircase.
A cramp dug into my side, but I pushed through the pain. My
stomach twisted, and I groaned through clenched teeth.
Ow! Dammit. I doubled over, using my hands to climb faster.
Maybe suppressing my wolf for all those years wasn’t the best idea.
A strong hand clamped around my ankle like a vice and I let out a
scream, more out of desperation than fear. He pulled me toward him
and I rolled over, sliding down the stairs on my backside. A sharp
pain burned on my elbow as my skin scraped against the stone,
bruising my tailbone as I went. Kicking wildly, my heel connected
with his nose and mouth. His head snapped back from the impact
and blood immediately trickled from his nostrils.
My eyes widened as a low growl emanated from his chest. I
panted, turning around and scrambling up to the landing. My lungs
burned but I willed my trembling legs to move. Shifting in broad
daylight could be dangerous, and I wasn’t sure how much control I
had over my wolf. But if I just let her go, there was no way she’d let
him catch us.
That was my last thought before the weight of his body struck me
like a speeding car, and he tackled me to the ground. Energy
sparked, gathering into a ball at the center of my chest as I
struggled under his weight. It had been ages since I felt the power
of my magic compressing, and the sensation sent panic surging
through my brain.
A pulse of ether burst from my palms as the magic exploded,
sending my attacker rolling across the grass. My head and arms felt
limp as the energy left my body, leaving me drained and shaking.
I have to run. I rolled to my side and forced myself up. All I
needed was a few seconds to gather my strength. The stranger
groaned, getting back to his feet. I’d barely managed two steps
before I crumpled to the ground.
I flailed as he picked me up, trying to slink out of his grasp.
“Are you done?” he growled into my ear, his arm wrapping tighter
around my waist. I threw my head back, attempting to headbutt his
already broken nose, but he jerked his head to the side, grabbed a
handful of my hair, and repeated into my ear, “Are. You. Done?”
I whimpered as the last of my adrenaline trickled to a stop, and he
dragged me back the way we came.
 Chapter 2

I should have known that people like me don’t get to just walk
away from their clan. I clenched my teeth as I examined my
handcuffs. Silver? I groaned. Great. I can’t even shift to break out.
I had spent the last five years building this life for myself, trying to
forget where I came from. I got a fake birth certificate and social
security card. I was even working on my credit score before the
business started drying up. I was stupid to think that I would ever
be safe, that my father would eventually stop looking for me
The car had been fabricated with a caged back seat. Nothing but
the best for transporting my father’s prized possession. They
couldn’t risk losing me again if he was still planning on trading me to
the D’Marcos.
My kidnapper slowed down and opened the glove box. He pulled
out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his nose and mouth,
inspecting his freshly-healed fractures.
“My name is Connor, by the way.”
A dull thud came from somewhere under the car.
“Well, I wish I could say it’s nice meeting you.” I pulled at my
handcuffs to see if I could slide my hand through, lowering my voice
to a mumble. “Your accent is totally not hot now that I know you’re
a–”
The thudding sound came again, and I looked around.
 “Look, I’m not interested in coming back to the clan.” I pushed my
long sweat-soaked auburn hair out of my face. “My father can fuck
right off,” I growled. “I’d rather die than bow down to a tyrant like
Damiano D’Marco or his pampered brat of a son. And I most
certainly won’t be getting married.”
He fiddled with his phone for a few seconds. “I don’t work for your
father.”
“I doubt —” Another thumping sound interrupted my thought.
Frowning, I turned my head slowly to see if something was rolling
back and forth down on the floor. Something I could use for a
weapon?
“That would be your mouthy roommate,” Connor said over his
shoulder. “Feisty little thing.”
“Mia?” My eyes grew wide. “You son of a bitch. If you lay one
hand on her –”
I met Mia back when I’d been living on the street for about six
months after I showed up in Portland. Back then, she was
volunteering at the soup kitchen, but once upon a time, she was in a
situation that wasn’t so different from mine. She got me a job and
let me crash at her place. Eventually, I was able to tell her my
secret, and shockingly, she accepted me.
“She seems to know a lot,” he said. “About you, about our kind.
It’s unwise to trust humans.”
“She’s a hell of a lot more trustworthy than you.” I kicked the back
of his seat. “Beady-eyed asshole…”
“No more tall, dark, and handsome?”
“Nope, just some Russian dickhead.” I shrank down in my seat.
“I’m from Romania.”
My elbows stung. Even though I knew I’d be healed in a day or
two, it didn’t make the drive any more pleasant. Closing my eyes, I
formed a psychic link with Mia.
 Are you okay?
I’m alright, she answered. A little bruised, but no real damage.
Hang tight. I’ll get us out of this.
Man, you were right about Wolves being alpha-douchebags.
Yeah. I looked at Connor. I know.
Connor and I argued for a good ten minutes, but the conversation
devolved from me making demands and him refusing to me
resorting to threats of violence, and eventually, him ignoring me.
The seat was hard metal and slippery with no padding. Besides
making it uncomfortable, there was no way for me to pull the seats
out and try to escape. The horrible reality of what was happening
set in. Now that they knew where I was, even if Mia and I escaped,
there would be no going back to our little apartment. Not for me.
What I would’ve given to have my greatest worry be that damn
phone bill. The time for working in the boutique with Mia was over.
No more watching corny old movies together and eating leftover
pizza. I’d never wake up to my best friend singing happy birthday
over a vegan cupcake with a single candle in it again. I never took
that life for granted, but that didn’t make losing it or Mia any easier.
The smell of the ocean conjured up memories from my early
childhood, playing on the beach with my cousins when we used to
have our yearly coastal vacations. When the familiar landmarks of
Port Orford started popping up, I realized it was more than
nostalgia. He was taking me back to the enormous manor house my
family used to rent every summer.
“You lying sack of —” I leaned forward in my seat.
“You curse a lot for a duchess.” He cut me off, arching a quizzical
brow.
I gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m not a duchess.” Once you walk
away from that life, there’s slim to no chance of going back.
 “You keep insisting that you don’t work for my father.” I said. “But
in my vision, I saw you standing with him in his study. You shook his
hand.”
“I’ve met your father.” Connor looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“He’s more like a snake than a wolf. Unpleasant, even for a royal.”
“We’re not Royals. Not unless he managed to pimp out one of my
sisters to the D’Marcos.”
“Nobles. Royals. They’re all the same to me.”
“To someone who doesn’t care who signs the check, I guess we
are.” I started to cross my arms, but the cuffs wouldn’t let me. “Do
you even know the reason I left the clan?”
He said he didn’t.
“What clan are you from?”
“I wasn’t born into a clan,” he said darkly, but he didn’t elaborate.
I spent the better part of an hour explaining my father's deal with
the D’Marco clan, our most hated rivals since the 1400s. Damiano,
the Alpha, was a self-proclaimed King of Wolves. My father arranged
for me to marry Damiano’s oldest son in exchange for expanding our
clan’s territory and getting a status boost.
“So you’d never even met this… uh.” He gestured like he couldn’t
think of the right word.
“Bastard,” I finished for him.
Connor smiled at that. “Is that his formal title?”
“I guess you’d call him a prince if you acknowledged the authority
of the D’Marcos.” I slunk back into my seat. “But no. I’ve never met
him.”
“Forced to marry a bastard prince. That’s quite a story.” He raised
his eyebrows and shook his head.
 A moment of silence between us found me resisting the urge to
return the soft smile on his lips. I knew what he was doing. If you
want something from someone, you build rapport with them so they
feel some twisted sense of comradery. I’d seen my father do it a
thousand times.
“You’re taking me to the Bergamot Manor House,” I said under my
breath as we turned down a long private road. “I’m not blind.”
“Your family no longer owns it, if that’s what you’re worried
about.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I promise, I’m not taking you
to your father.”
“Then who?” I leaned forward, my eyes pleading.
He shook his head. “Since the moment we met…” Connor
drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You have accused me,
insulted me, threatened me, and cursed at me. But this is the first
time you asked who I work for.”
My jaw dropped slightly, and my eyebrows pinched together as I
thought back. He was right. I was pretty pissed off after being
stalked, chased, and dragged back to his car. Could he really blame
me for not being in a listening kind of mood?
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Can you tell me now?”
“I believe his formal title is Bastard Prince?”
You’d better be fucking kidding me. I felt the color drain from my
face.
This was worse than I thought. My father was a narcissist, but at
least I knew how to deal with him. The D’Marco’s were notoriously
brutal when it came to punishing those who rose against them. With
Mia tied up in the trunk, I didn’t want to think about what medieval
shit he might do to take his pound of flesh.
“You don’t have to do this.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice.
“Remember what the cards said? You have a choice. And even
though you got tangled up in this, I’d go out on a limb and say
you’re not a bad person.”
“Your intuition is wrong.”
“No.” I pulled at my handcuffs hard. “ Please. Let Mia go. I’ll
cooperate!”
“Yes,” he said coldly. “You will.”
***
The cold night air brought my mind back to sharp clarity after the
long, uncomfortable car ride. I followed Connor into the entryway,
feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter. But what choice did I
have? He had Mia. And I would stop at nothing to keep her safe.
Mia’s arms were bound behind her back from her elbows to her
wrists. Her protests, muffled under the tape covering her mouth,
echoed as we walked up a flight of stone steps and entered the
massive, oak door.
Finely-carved white wooden walls, inlaid with delicate floral
patterns along the top, stood tall all around us as we walked along
the narrow hallway. In my childhood, these walls had been my
escape.
Now it’s just another thing the D’Marcos have ruined.
The sound of our feet rang out on the polished marble floor,
bringing back memories of my cousin Ros and me running through
the corridor. We passed closed doorways on the left and right,
heading toward what used to be my father’s office. The sight
would’ve brought a chill to my skin had it not been for my racing
pulse.
The narrow hallway opened onto a converted study, lined with
mahogany shelves and lit by a large fireplace roaring on the inner
wall.
“Prince Gabriel D’Marco.” Connor flopped Mia onto the leather sofa
and gestured to me. “May I introduce Ivy Morgan.”
 I held my head high despite the fact that I was shaking.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” a deep, disembodied voice
announced. The prince’s dark silhouette stepped out from beside the
mantle, the moonlight glinting off his reflective eyes.
His gaze fell on me and I could only stare, taken aback by how
strikingly handsome he was. Gabriel was tall, well over six feet, with
broad shoulders, his dark, wavy hair combed neatly, parted to one
side. His square jaw and strong chin framed full lips adorned with a
pronounced cupid’s bow, and his bright blue eyes seemed almost
gentle, but I knew better.
Connor removed the tape from Mia’s mouth.
“OW!” Mia tossed her head to one side. Her long blonde hair was
a mess after the car ride. “You won’t get away with this.” She sent
Gabriel a look that could melt the skin from bone if she had been
more than a kitchen witch. “Are these two bozos thinking they can
force us to marry them because–?”
“As soon as it comes off, she starts up again.” Connor gestured to
her. “Now do you see why I had to use tape?”
“The circumstances are regrettable.” Gabriel took a sip from a
tumbler, his gaze returning to the hearth.
“Regrettable?” Mia and I both spoke at the same time. Down, girl,
I told her through our link.
“It wasn’t up to either of us.” Gabriel looked at me. He turned to
Mia with a look of curiosity on his face, before his eyes shifted back
to me. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”
“Ivy?” Mia finally seemed uncertain of the situation she was in.
“Long ago, the Fates promised a she-wolf with incredible power
would be the conduit for magic returning to our kind.” I raised my
hands in a plea, and when Mia was silent, her eyes focused on me, I
continued. “Not every wolf has powers like mine. And when my
parents discovered my abilities, my fate was sealed.”
 Even after running away and all those years of hiding, of trying to
rewrite what was written, there I was, standing before the man I
was fated to marry. I guess Father was right. I may be special, but I
can’t defy the will of the Fates.
“Judging from our previous interactions, or lack thereof –”
Gabriel's voice broke the trance of shock Mia had been in — “I
assumed you wouldn’t be interested in a face-to-face meeting.”
“That’s right.” I shot a sideways glance at Connor. “If you thought
that seeing you in person would change my mind about the
marriage, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“What gave you the impression that my intention was to change
your mind?” He leaned on the mantle.
I shifted my weight uncomfortably, contemplating what to say
next.
“The D’Marcos,” I said finally, “are notorious for not allowing their
pictures to be taken. No sketches or paintings of any of you. Some
say it’s an old family superstition, but others think you’re all
deformed from generations of…” I hesitated but forced the word out.
“...inbreeding.”
He chuckled, taking another sip from his glass.
“My gods.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I guess it makes sense
that you’d run away.”
My breath hitched as he set his glass down on the mantle and
came toward me. The prince put his palms up in a peaceful gesture
and took a key out of his pocket.
“I didn’t run away because I expected you to be unattractive.” My
cheeks reddened, but I forced myself to meet his piercing gaze as he
removed the handcuffs. “I didn’t want to marry you because I don’t
know you. My father doesn’t get to choose whom I love, no matter
the consequences I have to face.”
 “I wasn’t any more enthusiastic about the marriage than you
were, Ivy.” Gabriel’s relaxed disposition was almost enough to put
me at ease, but I refused to lower my defenses. “Especially
considering I was informed of the arrangement when I was sixteen
and you were eleven. But I was willing to do my duty.”
“Duty,” I scoffed. “Did you ever stop to think that magic is dying
out for a reason? Maybe nature just decided that she didn’t want us
anymore.”
“If that was the case, there would be no prophecy.” His blue eyes
locked onto mine, and he let out a heavy sigh. “And you wouldn’t
exist.” He shook his head. “Neither of us asked for this. After the
chaos left behind in the wake of your disappearance, I was publicly
humiliated and disgraced.”
I could already see where this was going: His bruised ego
demanded restitution, and the only currency the D’Marcos accepted
in these instances was blood.
“Look…” My eyes darted around as I tried to formulate a plan. “I’m
sorry that happened to you when I ran away.”
Get ready. I reached out to Mia through our link. When I move,
you need to run toward me.
I sensed her anxiety but urged her to stay calm. I reached out to
my wolf, hoping she wouldn’t hold all the years locked up in the dark
against me. I was stronger than the average human, but there was
no way I could outrun them in my human form.
“But… I…” I eyed Connor as he pulled out his phone and I knew
that might be the closest thing to a distraction I would get. I
snapped to action. “I can’t!”
Picking up an end table, I flung it toward the large window facing
the front yard. Glass shattered and Mia leaped to her feet, tripping
on her floor-length hippy skirt and hitting the floorboards with a
thud. I scooped her up as I dashed past Connor, jumping out the
window and landing on the hedges a few feet below. Connor and
Gabriel leaned out to look down at us.
Taking a deep breath, I threw my head back and howled,
summoning my wolf. The magic in my blood stirred, reviving after
being dormant for years. Almost instantly, memories of running
through the forest with my mother flooded my consciousness. Even
in the pitch-black night, every overhanging branch and sharp rock
stood out prominently with my wolf’s enhanced vision.
Anticipating the change to come, I bolted for the treeline, muscles
freshly invigorated with new energy. Silver fur pushed its way
through my skin, causing a maddening itching sensation as I
changed into my hybrid form.
Mia gasped, her eyes widening as she looked back over my
shoulder. I took that to mean we were being followed.
Ducking under a low-hanging branch, I wove through the trees at
breakneck speed. I knew these woods like the back of my hand, and
I dared to hope that I could get away before my magic ran out.
I inhaled the sweet perfume of Mia’s shampoo. It didn’t matter
how far or fast we ran. There was nowhere we could go that Connor
wouldn’t be able to track us. Taking a sharp turn into an old deer
trail, I knew there was only one way we stood a chance of walking
out of this.
The moon illuminated a thick blanket of mist that clung to the
damp earth as I shoved through the dense underbrush. Mia closed
her eyes and pressed her head into my shoulder to avoid her face
getting torn to shreds by the tiny branches clawing at us as we
barreled ahead. As the fog swelled, I operated more from memory
than sight.
We could lose Connor if we jumped into the river. He’d lose our
scent at the water’s edge, and in the dark, he’d have no way of
knowing where we got out on the other side. I panted, looking back
the way we came, and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that there
was no one behind us. I studied the shapes of the terrain under the
blanket of fallen leaves, but nothing looked familiar. Something was
wrong.
Rapid footsteps approached, and I darted in the opposite
direction.
We should have reached the river by now. I must have gotten
turned around in the fog.
My magic waned, and I felt my wolf fading fast.
My legs threatened to buckle under Mia’s weight as I re-assumed
my human shape. My clothes had been ripped, and a chill cut
through me as a gust of wind bit into my exposed skin. I’d
suppressed my magic for so long, wishing it would disappear, that it
finally atrophied. Mia and I tumbled forward before I could set her
down. She screamed as we slid down a steep, muddy embankment
and into the frigid water.
I willed my limbs to move, but intense fatigue weighed down my
entire body, and I sank like a stone.
Still bonded through our psychic link, I could feel Mia’s pain as her
lungs filled with muddy water, burning as she kicked and screamed
in a flurry of dark bubbles. I reached for her blindly but found
nothing. The edges of my vision dimmed, and my eyes rolled back.
It’s over.
From out of the darkness, a thick, muscular arm encircled my ribs.
I gasped in frostbitten air as we broke the surface of the water.
Connor dragged me onto the muddy bank and rolled me to one
side. I wretched, gagging as my lungs forced out water and bits of
moss.
“Mia.” I choked, trying to gather the strength to go back in after
her, but I couldn’t sit up. “Please, you can’t leave her.” I tried to rally,
but before I could get to my feet, Connor pinned me by my wrists
and dragged me back to the Manor.
 Chapter 3

“Mia!” I sat up, my heart racing in my chest as the panic revived

my mind.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Mia said, smiling. “I guess shifting like that
takes a lot out of you, huh?”
Relief flooded me as I leaned back in the chair, finally noticing the
delicate towel that had been wrapped around me. The fire crackled
in the large stone fireplace in front of us, emanating warmth through
the room that helped ease the chill in my bones. I sensed we were
alone and let myself relax to recover my strength.
“Sorry it didn’t work out.” I lowered my head.
I realized now how ridiculous it was to think we could have
escaped on foot. Even if we’d managed to get out on the other side
of the river, I would have been drained of magic, half-naked, and
we’d have both been hypothermic in freezing temperatures. Luckily,
I didn’t get the sense that either of our new friends had any
intention of hurting us.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Mia gestured to our towels. “When I
woke up, they asked if they could wash our clothes, so I had them
leave so I could get yours. You were drenched.”
“I guess it was a nice gesture.” I shrugged.
Gabriel and Connor knocked briefly before entering, and Gabriel
handed Mia and I each a hot cup of tea. Connor stayed in the
doorway while Gabriel told us about how he recently got engaged.
The prince paced as he spoke, eventually stopping to stand by the
fireside, the warm glow softening his features.
“I’m happy for you, Gabriel,” I said. “But, if you’re engaged, then
why are we here?”
“Because something has happened.” He interlaced his fingers,
propping his elbows on his knees. “And it concerns both of us. Will
you afford me the opportunity to fill you in, or are you going to try
and run again?”
My shoulders drooped. I frowned at the steaming cup in my
hands, holding it under my nose, the soft scent of chamomile
calming the panic raging inside of me.
“I’m listening.” I leaned forward.
“There was a bit of a hiccup in my engagement.” Gabriel glanced
over at Connor, who stood by the bedroom door. “My fiancée attends
Pentacle Academy here in Port Orford… or, she did until recently. She
disappeared. No note, no phone call to anyone.”
I looked at Mia, remembering that neither of us told a soul when
we left our homes. As if reading my mind, Gabriel added, “She didn’t
run away.” He paused, rubbing his forehead before continuing, “She
consented to the marriage of her own free will. I didn’t involve her
parents in the discussion until she agreed it was what she wanted.”
“Well, that was…” I snuggled down into the towel.
“Not what you expected?” he finished.
“It doesn’t exactly fit your father’s M.O.” I blew into the mug and
sipped the tea.
“Well, that’s what concerns me.” Gabriel ran his fingers through
his wet hair. “My fiancée possessed extraordinary magical abilities.
Not to the extent that you demonstrated as a child, but she was
definitely exceptional. Her wolf isn’t silver, but so much that the
Fates see is symbolic and open for interpretation.”
 “And your father had to accept her?”
“I hoped he would.” Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment.
“You think he had something to do with her disappearance?” I
asked.
Sadness clouded his brow. “Even though it would have been a
marriage of convenience, I can’t stand the thought of an innocent
woman losing her life because of me.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I can do to help.” I nodded
toward the river. “You saw me out there. My wolf is unpredictable.”
“I’m not the only one who found you.” His steely blue eyes burned
into me. “My father also knows where you are.”
Heat rose in my cheeks, and I steadied myself.
“My fiancée and I planned to marry in a month,” Gabriel said
dimly. “If we don’t find her by then, my father plans on holding you
to our original contract and forcing us to go through with the
ceremony on the date I gave him.”
I suddenly felt like I was in an elevator when the cable snapped.
Everyone knows the D’Marcos do whatever is necessary. They would
force me to marry Gabriel, even if they had to hurt the people I
cared about.
“This isn’t just about the people in this room.” Connor’s deep voice
carried over from the doorway. “Gabriel ascending to the throne
would mean Damiano would no longer be king.”
The prince shot a cautioning look at his bodyguard, but Connor
continued, “She hates your father more than you do. I believe you
can trust her, and you should if you want her to help us.”
Gabriel looked at me, studying my features before letting out a
contemplative sigh. “Our clan has been involved in some unsavory
activities since my father took the throne.” For the first time, Gabriel
seemed nervous, wringing his hands as he pondered on what to say
and how to say it. “I don’t intend to let him continue exploiting his
position to engage in these behaviors.”
My knuckles turned white as I clutched the mug to my chest.
Could Gabriel really be any different?
“I realize your abilities are undisciplined, but you do possess
extraordinary powers.” Gabriel put his hands over mine. “If you can
use your gift to help me find Rosline… I will see to it that you’re
absolved from all involvement with our kind. No one will come
looking for you. You’ll be free.”
Wait. My blood ran cold. Did he say Rosline?
“Who are you marrying?” My heart pounded in my chest.
“Rosline Beaumont.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “I think
she’s your second cousin?”
My stomach clenched. Rosline was my childhood friend, my
chosen sister, and the one person who I actually missed when I left
the clan. “Why didn’t you think to mention that in the first place?” I
stood up. “If the two of you were engaged, you had to have known
how much she meant to me.”
“I was trying to, but you kept running away.” He blinked. “And she
mentioned you didn’t tell her goodbye when you left and haven’t
talked to her since. I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Because I was trying to keep her safe.” The tops of my ears
burned as I gestured and hot tea splashed over the side of my mug.
I winced as the scalding liquid burned my knuckles. Ros and I were
inseparable as children. She was the only person in our family who
thought I was worth anything besides making magical wolf babies.
She believed in me.
Gabriel stood up to face me. “Could you use your powers to tell
me if she’s alive?”
I sat down and rubbed my head; a migraine had already started
to bloom in my skull.
 “My powers are dangerous when I’m too weak to control them.”
Besides my volatile powers, I didn’t want that part of my life to come
back.
I turned my back on my clan, my magic, everything I knew. I can’t
just reach for them and not expect consequences.
“So you won’t even try?” Gabriel whispered, which hurt more than
if he had yelled.
I opened my mouth, but whatever I was going to say vanished as
the stories of other beings that had been consumed by darkness
after channeling too much power too quickly raced through my
mind.
“I understand.” Gabriel’s eyes dimmed just then, and for a
moment, he merely stared at me. Finally, he nodded. “You can go.”
He paced back toward an armchair by the window. “Connor will drive
you both back to Portland.”
“Wait.” I hesitated as he turned away, and a knot in my
stomach.“I’ll try. But I can’t make any promises.” I knew it was a
long shot, but Ros would do anything if she thought I needed her.
Gabriel’s eyes lit up.
“I’m going to need as many candles as we can find.”
Gabriel tasked Connor with finding every candlestick in the house.
Apparently, the staff had been given a vacation for my visit. The last
thing Gabriel needed was news of us working together getting back
to his father.
After a few minutes, Connor came back with a few dozen
candlesticks and a pair of sweats for Mia and me. The guys both
stepped out while we changed.
“Are you sure about this?” Mia pulled the oversized gray sweater
over her head.
“Not at all.” I put my feet into the pants and had to loop the
drawstring over itself multiple times for the waist to even slightly fit.
“But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.”
Mia nodded. “But swear you’ll call out to me if anything starts to
edge in the wrong direction.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
We walked out to the hallway, and I could hear the two voices
coming from down the hall. My bare feet were cold against the
marble. I pushed open the door to the dining room and was hit with
a flashback of all the dinners I’d had here in my youth, sitting
politely at the table with my cousins as my father watched us all like
a hawk.
“Are you ready?” Gabriel looked at me.
I nodded and walked over to Connor, who stood at the head of the
dining table. The chair was pushed out of the way, and the candles
he had collected were piled on the old oak surface.
I lit and placed the candles strategically around the dark room: on
the window sills, the mantle, one on a serving table that was
pressed to the wall on my left, and three along the table: one at
each end, and the third in the middle.
I sat in a chair in the center of the table. I closed my eyes and
spread my palms on the cool surface of the polished wood,
grounding myself in the physical plane. I took in the sounds around
me: the crackling wicks of the candles; a ticking grandfather clock;
Mia, Connor, and Gabriel breathing softly out in the hallway. I could
smell the cleaning products and furniture polish used by the staff
and the faint smokey bouquet of the burning candles
Deep breath in. I imagined myself sinking slowly into a glowing
ocean of stars. Exhale. I’m floating, weightless…
Opening my eyes, I stared into the tiny dancing flame atop the
candle in front of me.
Where are you, Ros? My eyelids grew heavy as I sank deeper.
Come on, cousin. I know you’re out there.
 I watched the candle burn down.
Please… ROS! A tear slid down my face, but I didn’t move.
Ivy? A whisper at the back of my mind reached for me, but I
couldn’t hold onto it.
The small flames that topped the candles blazed, bursting out in
all directions and melting the candles down to nothing. Mia burst
through the double doors with Gabriel and Connor close behind. She
yanked down a curtain and beat at the flames nearest to me, before
a magical wind swirled in the enclosed space, snuffing out the
inferno. My connection to the void dissipated, and I struggled to stay
conscious.
I groaned, grasping the edge of the table as Mia rushed to my
side, checking my eyes. When she was sure that I was ok, I turned
to Gabriel.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t be sure it was her I contacted. Do you have
anything that belongs to Rosline?”
“We didn’t socialize outside of family functions.” Gabriel frowned.
“We mostly exchanged emails.”
“Emails?” I curled my lip back. “That’s so depressing.”
“I told you it wasn’t a romantic partnership.” Gabriel smoothed the
bottom of his shirt. “It was business. If I were actually wooing a
woman, I would have used stationary.”
“Of course.” I nodded. “Sounds like you’ve got some serious
game.”
“I think letters are romantic.” Mia shrugged. “Not many people will
actually take the time to write a beautiful letter. Especially a sexy
letter…”
“Okay.” I shuddered. “Not the point. It’s going to be at least
another twenty-four hours before my powers are charged enough to
use them again. What exactly was the plan beyond me trying to
meditate my way to Ros?”
 Gabriel and Connor looked at each other.
“The three of us are going to Pentacle Academy to see if we can
pick up her trail where she disappeared.” Gabriel crossed his arms.
The thought of going with Gabriel and Connor to a college filled
with supernatural creatures sounded like a recipe for disaster. I had
devoted the last five years to getting as far away from the
supernatural world as possible, my powers were weaker than they’d
ever been, and I didn’t trust either of these guys. If it had been
anyone in my family besides Ros, I would have said no.
I scrunched my shoulders up. “So we’re just going to waltz in
through the front gate, and no one is going to question why we’re
there?”
“Give me some credit.” Gabriel shifted his weight from one foot to
the other. “We’d be using false identities. The headmaster has
already agreed to enroll us as long as we’re discreet about Rosline’s
disappearance.”
I nodded slowly. “Because a missing student would be bad for
their reputation, especially if it’s the prince’s fiancée.”
“He will be Kaleb Porter,” Gabriel gestured to Connor. “ I’ll be
Nicholas Davenport, and you will be Lady Skyler De La Fontaine.”
My eyebrows jumped into my hairline. “Why do you guys get
normal-sounding names? Skyler De La-Whatever sounds like a
pornstar.”
“I think it sounds very elegant.” Gabriel turned up his nose.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I hope Ros is the one picking
out names for your kids.”
“Oh, what’s my name going to be?” Mia rubbed her chin. “What
about Amelia? I’ve always thought I looked like an Amelia.”
“You’re not coming with us,” Connor said flatly.
 Mia opened her mouth to speak, but Connor interrupted. “I vote
we hire a couple guards and keep her in the third-floor suite until we
get back.” Connor pulled out his phone.
“Like hell you will.” She snatched the phone out of his hand.
“You’re the one who tied me up and stuffed me in the trunk. Now
you have to deal with me.”
“Like I said.” He shrugged. “Guards.”
“Everyone, calm down.” I took Connor’s phone from Mia and gave
it back to him. “We’re not locking Mia in the third-floor suite. It’s
haunted, and she’s sensitive to spirits.” I turned to Mia, who had a
smug grin on her face. “And you’re not coming to Pentacle Academy
because you’re a human. The only humans at Pentacle are
alchemists or vampire familiars.”
“Vampires are real?” Her eyes went wide. “I knew it… But hey, I
could totally pass for an alchemist! Name one person who knows
more about herbs and tinctures than me.”
“You’re a kitchen witch, Mia.” I put my hands on her shoulders.
“There’s no way on the gods’ green earth that you could pass for an
alchemist.” I turned to Gabriel. “Mia has known my secret for years
and would never tell a soul. We can trust her. I’ll go with you guys to
Pentacle, but I want her in a car headed back to Portland.”
“What if something happens and I can’t get to you?” Mia
squeezed my hand.
“That’s why I can’t have you anywhere near that place. It’s too
dangerous.” I looked away.
For a moment she just stared at me, heartbreak gathering in the
corners of her eyes. I knew it wasn’t easy, but Mia finally agreed to
go back to our apartment. A blue glow kissed the horizon just
behind the trees ushering in a bright pink sunrise as a limousine and
town car pulled up in front of the manor.
“Be safe.” Mia put her arms around my neck.
 “I’ll be watching out for her.” Connor piped in.
“Always nice to have a kidnapper watching your back,” Mia said
under her breath as she climbed into the back of the private town
car. “I’m totally raiding this mini-bar!”
Connor rolled his eyes skyward as he shut the door and the sleek
car headed down the driveway.
I waved at the tinted back window, knowing she was waving back
even if I couldn’t see it. The next car pulled up, and Connor opened
the back passenger door for me.
I climbed in, scooting across the seat to the back corner.
As Gabriel and Connor settled in, I tried to remember the last time
I’d been in a limo. You’d think I’d have missed the opulent lifestyle of
being born into old money, but the truth was life with my father was
like living in a cage. It wasn’t until I gave up everything that I truly
understood what it meant to be happy.
Gabriel produced a necklace from his pocket with a small black
pendant. As he put it on and tucked it into his shirt, his features
shifted. The transformation was subtle, but it made enough of a
difference that I wouldn’t have been able to recognize him. My jaw
dropped and I raised my eyebrows at Connor, waiting for someone
to explain.
“He uses it when he doesn’t want to be recognized in public.”
Connor smirked.
“It’s not like your face is in the tabloids.” I leaned in to look closer.
“Who is it you’re worried will recognize you?”
“After you fled our engagement, my father made it clear I wasn’t
welcome in our family home back in Florence.” Gabriel looked out
the window. “And I wouldn’t be receiving my crown until I married
the she-wolf from the prophecy. I’ve lived at Bergamot Manor ever
since your father was kind enough to sell it to me. The local wolves
know my face.”
 I shrank back, realizing he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said
there was fallout from my leaving.
He wasn’t any less handsome, but his square jaw was more
narrow, his hairline had changed shape, and his once brilliant blue
eyes were now emerald green. “Your father offered me sanctuary in
your territory until you, or another suitable match could be found.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” I bit my lip.
He offered a kind smile.
“You were sixteen years old.” Gabriel sat back. Crossing his arms
over his chest, he leaned his head back to rest against the window
and closed his eyes with a yawn. “If I ever manage to ascend to the
throne, I’ll waste no time doing away with the draconic customs of
our ancestors.”
Connor stayed awake, reading an astronomy book. Despite the
fact that we were supernatural creatures, it seemed as though he
had his feet firmly grounded in science, and that was something I
appreciated.
I thought about what Gabriel said about abolishing draconic
customs, unsure if that was genuine or if it was meant purely to gain
my trust. The latter would be easier to believe, but if Gabriel was
being deceptive, he was a master at it.
 Chapter 4

Pentacle Academy was built in the 1820s against the rocky

coastline of Port Orford, only thirty minutes south of Bergamot
Manor. As we entered through the tall iron gates, a wave of nerves
came over me. Was this half-cocked plan to masquerade as students
really the best way to go about finding Ros?
“Don’t you think people will find it suspicious that all three of us
showed up halfway through the winter quarter?” I bounced my knee
as the Academy came into view, a dark fortress looming overhead
with tall, pointed gables and moss-covered brick walls.
It had always been my dream to attend a school like this, but,
even if I stayed with my clan, I would never have had the chance
since Father wanted me to marry early.
“No one will find it suspicious as long as we blend in.” Gabriel
smiled. “It’s all about confidence.”
I frowned, unable to imagine either of them ever blending in
anywhere. Gabriel was taught to stand out from birth, and Connor
looked like a trained assassin. I turned to look out over the rolling
hills of the campus.
The Academy was made up of five separate buildings, and from
what I’d heard, a large portion of the structures extended
underground. The massive brick buildings loomed in defiance of time
and decay. Even after a hundred years, the columns in front of each
building were as white as the day the academy was completed.
 “How about we follow your lead?” Connor put his book into the
inner pocket of his lapel and looked at me. “You do have an edge
when it comes to living a complete lie.”
I didn’t bother responding.
“Perhaps the two of you should follow my lead.” Gabriel smiled. “I
took theater for two years, and my professor said I possessed a
great talent for improvisation.”
Typical wolf ego. This is why I prefer the company of humans.
“Surely there are times that call for firm and decisive leadership,”
Gabriel added, seeing my eye roll.
Gods… He almost had me fooled after that comment about doing
away with barbaric customs.
“I never asked for your leadership, Gabriel.” I stayed my gaze on
him. “I’m here to make sure Rosline is alright. That’s all.”
“And regardless of your reasons for being here, I’m calling the
shots on this operation,” he answered.
“I’m not surprised our kind are losing their magic.” My face burned
with resentment as I tried to keep my composure. “We blame it on
humans for diluting our bloodlines, but the truth is, nature eliminates
those who fail to adapt, and we have refused to evolve past our
ancient, narrow-minded, male-dominated customs.”
“You’re naive if you think that’s how the world works.” Gabriel
straightened the collar of his shirt. “Nature kills without remorse,
and it doesn’t care about societal progress.”
“People like your father use nature as an excuse to hurt people all
the time.” I looked out the window.
I’ve never seen a pack that wasn’t male-dominated. Some packs
have more respect for their women, but men have always held more
power in the clan. My body tensed at the thought of the countless
she-wolves who had disappeared for demanding change.
 “If you cared about the pain of our people –” Gabriel’s expression
grew severe — “we’d be enduring a loveless marriage, which would
be preferable to this mess. But you cling to romantic fantasies,
pretending to be human rather than sacrifice for the greater good.
So, you’ll excuse me for knocking you off your moral high horse,
Duchess Morgan.”
“A corrupt system can’t be dismantled unless people take drastic
measures. ” I glared at him. “And don’t pretend to understand the
depth of things I’ve lost by turning my back on my clan.”
“Have you considered for a moment that maybe I am not like my
father?” The car slowed down and pulled into the front of the
administrative building. A moment ago I had been ready to throw
down with him, and with one sentence he caught me off guard. I
don’t know what to believe after the events of the last two days. I
huffed out my resentment and turned to look out the window.
A tall woman wearing a smart business suit stood on the front
steps with three men in sweater vests behind her. Her steely gaze
told the story of someone who didn’t earn her position by being
weak. Sharp cheekbones and dark red hair with streaks of gray
framed a solemn expression. Her thin lips forced a polite smile as
the chauffeur opened the car door.
“Lady Fontaine, Lord Davenport, and Lord Porter.” She extended
her hand to me first and then to Gabriel and Connor as we exited
the car.
“Thank you for being so accommodating, Headmistress Rivera.”
Gabriel flashed his charming movie-star smile. “Especially on such
short notice.”
She looked from me to Gabriel and Connor with a polite nod.
“I’ve no doubt that your academic career at Pentacle Academy will
be a wonderful experience. Please come to my office, and we’ll
finalize your enrollment paperwork.”
 The three of us followed along behind her while the three
attendants unloaded our luggage from the car. I did a double take
when I recognized a particularly well-used antique carpet bag with a
loud floral print and wooden handle.
Did Connor break into my apartment, kidnap my roommate and
pack me a bag with my own suitcase?
Beams of afternoon light filtered in through the spacious room,
tracing warmth into the darkly-stained hardwood floors. Thick
leather seats punctuated every corner, and there were rows upon
rows of leather-bound books lining the enormous shelves that filled
every inch of wall space. The combination of fine filigree wood
columns and highly polished marble pillars drew my eyes upward.
As we ascended the staircase leading up to Headmistress Rivera’s
office, I looked over the railing at the dozen or so people working at
their desks. A woman in her mid-thirties clacked away on an old
manual typewriter. The haze that clung to her skin was the only
indication that she was no longer living.
“I imagine you’ll want to take today to get situated.” Rivera curled
her fingers around the doorknob of her office, and a faint burst of
energy moved from her hand into the lock, opening the mechanism.
“I have arranged for a student to come by in the morning to give
you a formal tour of our campus.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel and I said in unison.
Rivera had significant magical ability, though I wasn’t sure anyone
else noticed. Centuries ago, all wolves wielded magic. But in this day
and age, it’s a rare quality to possess.
The Headmistress shut the door behind us and gestured to three
chairs facing her desk, and her hospitable smile flattened into a
straight line.
“I realize we’ve already had this discussion, but I wanted to make
sure your associates understand the delicate nature of the situation
we find ourselves in.” She gave me a sideways glance as she
rounded her desk. “There is no proof of foul play, and this isn’t an
official investigation.”
Gabriel nodded, resting his elbow on the armrest.
“That being said…” Rivera took her seat. “While Pentacle Academy
isn’t under any obligation, nor is it responsible for the actions of Miss
Beaumont, the safety of our students is, of course, our top priority.”
“My fiancée and I are most appreciative.” Gabriel reached over,
placing his hand on mine.
What. The actual. Fuck. I sat still but turned to shoot Gabriel a
questioning look.
“Ivy has a great deal of affection for her cousin and was most
distressed to hear of her disappearance,” Gabriel continued as if he
didn’t see my expression.
“Clan Morgana must be thrilled to have you back in the fold,
Duchess.” She offered a respectful nod. “And of course, we are
happy to support His Royal Highness’s kind efforts to ensure the
safety of Miss Beaumont.”
“Yes,” I exhaled sharply with a forced smile. “His kind efforts are
overwhelming.”
“What I need all three of you to understand is that this school
must continue to operate without disruption.” Headmistress Rivera
stood up and placed her hands on her desk, leveling her gaze at me.
“I agreed to play along with this little charade. In return, the three
of you will act with respect for this institution and its property,
students, staff, and faculty.” Rivera’s gaze moved between the three
of us.
“You have my word. We will be as discreet as possible,” Gabriel
said.
“One last thing,” the Headmistress added. “The fewer people who
know, the better. Understood?”
All three of us nodded in unison.
 The Headmistress picked up a pamphlet and a key from her desk
and handed them to Gabriel. “This is a map of the campus, with
instructions on where to find your suite.”
“Thank you.” He stood up and accepted the objects in her hand. “I
will be sure to acknowledge your support when relaying your kind
thoughts to the Beaumont family.”
Rivera regarded us with a cold smile. Gabriel maintained eye
contact with her for a second before nodding for us to follow him.
We made our way, single file, down the staircase and back to the
entrance of the administration building.
“Are you alright?” Connor whispered to me.
“I’m fine.” My hands trembled.
Connor shrugged and opened the door leading outside.
The crisp morning air was a welcome shock to my senses as we
followed the cobblestone path into the courtyard. Gabriel opened the
pamphlet to study the map.
Our suite was on the top level of the south-facing dormitory.” “It
looks like we have an entire floor to ourselves.” He pointed to a four-
story building with a cylindrical spire on the corner nearest the
western wall.
The dark windows of the top floor gaped down at us and an eerie
chill crept up the length of my spine. I doubt we have the entire
floor to ourselves. It was rare for buildings that old to be truly
uninhabited.
As we headed toward the south end of the Academy, I took the
opportunity to commit the layout of the campus to memory. Five
main buildings were all interconnected with a series of angular
footpaths. I hadn’t had a chance to look at the map, but I surmised
that they were spaced out evenly like the five points of a pentagram.
While each building was unique, they all had a cone-shaped spire
incorporated in the architecture, and I wondered if that was
somehow significant. A thick curtain of vines adorned every wall of
our dormitory. The foliage had distinct arrowhead-shaped leaves that
were a deep purple with a green shine at the edges.
The landscape of the entire campus was highly manicured. Every
hedge was perfectly smooth and symmetrical. The grassy hills were
lush and bright green. Decorative flower beds bordered every
walkway and statue.
A massive fountain with an ornate stone sculpture of a dragon
stood at the center of the courtyard. Powerful wings folded elegantly
against its back, bits of moss and sediment clinging to the tiny
creases between the scales. I tilted my head, noting a melancholy
expression on the dragon’s face.
I wondered how the artist could capture that kind of emotion
while depicting a creature that hadn’t been seen in over a thousand
years. Dragon shifters, being the first to lose their magic,
disappeared long before this school was ever built. Their
descendants still existed, and some even passed down stories of
their ancestry.
Maybe someday, we’ll all be human. The thought comforted me.
No more secrets or isolating ourselves, we could finally join the
society we’d been alienated from for so long.
“Ivy?” Connor said softly. “We should get up to our room and
make a plan for tomorrow.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath and glaring at the back of Gabriel’s
head.
Entering the bottom floor of the bustling dormitory, we found
ourselves looking up at an enormous candelabra. Dark, wine-colored
rugs lined the two cherrywood staircases sweeping down from either
side of the second-floor loft.
Footsteps and chatter clattered through the hallway, overlapping
with the smell of leather-bound books and burning sage, and for the
briefest of moments, a childhood longing welled up in my chest. This
was an experience I’d always wanted for myself, a place away from
home where I could learn about the world beyond the shadow of my
clan.
As we walked, two young women passed by, laughing and
whispering to each other as if they knew something no one else did.
A sad smile reached my lips as I imagined all the memories and
connections I’d never get the chance to make. I focused on the
conversations around us as we made our way to the end of the
corridor, pushing the ache back down from whence it came.
Turning right, we ascended another staircase that spiraled up to
the third-floor common area. A few heads turned as we passed, and
I had the feeling it had been a while since anyone had occupied the
fourth-floor suite. Gabriel turned the large iron key in the lock, and
the door made a creek as he pushed it open.
A cold draft bled out through the doorway, and Gabriel leaned in
to peek inside.
“I’ll get a fire going.” Connor pushed past us and shrugged off his
coat, draping it over the back of the couch.
“It’s not exactly what I expected from their largest suite.” Gabriel
cleared his throat and followed.
I sighed, looking down at the threshold as I placed a hesitant foot
inside. My eyes quickly adjusted to the low light as I took in our
surroundings. Connor crouched in front of the fireplace and started
pulling wood from the log rack at the hearthside, while Gabriel
walked over to the large window across the room. Directly to my left
was another door, probably a bedroom.
Panning my gaze around, I took in the fireplace and window that
were nestled into the corner on my left, and the far right corner
looked to be the hallway to two of the three bedrooms. A small
kitchen was to my right equipped with a full-sized fridge, oven, and
microwave all lined up neatly on the same wall as the front door.
Another random document with
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messes, — une chaque matin, très souvent deux le dimanche et les
jours de fête, — je faisais avec lui mon abbé Bichelonne, frappant du
pied quand il se trompait, tâchant de rouler de gros yeux. J’aurais
été heureux de le faire pleurer : je n’y réussissais pas. Il me
regardait et me disait :
— Ce n’est pas ça ? Je vais recommencer.
Je lui répondis plus d’une fois :
— Non, ce n’est pas la peine. Tu ne sais rien. Va-t’en et tâche de
mieux apprendre pour après-demain.
Il tournait sur lui-même et autour de moi avant de partir. Je suis
sûr qu’il avait envie de me demander :
— Au moins, tu n’es pas fâché ? Je fais tellement ce que je peux !
Je le savais bien, et j’en étais touché, mais je feignais de
l’ignorer. Qu’il pût être enfant de chœur — à l’église nous nous
faisions chacun une centaine de francs par an, — c’était une bonne
aubaine pour sa mère qui ne gagnait pas grand’chose.
Enfin, plus vite que je n’aurais pensé, le jour arriva où il fut en
état de servir la messe. Il n’avait pas de respect humain. Moi aussi
bien que les autres enfants de chœur, — nous étions six y compris
Berlâne, — nous affections de n’être point émus par le sens
mystérieux des cérémonies. Chez moi, qui apprenais le latin, il
pouvait y avoir en apparence quelque contradiction. Je le sentais
parfaitement, mais j’aurais voulu que tout le monde se rendît compte
que vraiment je n’avais pas cette vocation que l’on avait cru devoir
me découvrir. Tout le temps que durait la messe, nous regardions à
droite, à gauche ; en récitant le Confiteor, nous battions sans
conviction notre coulpe ; en passant devant le tabernacle, nous
escamotions les génuflexions.
Mais Berlâne ne s’était pas en vain progressivement rapproché
du chœur. Des bancs placés au fond de l’église, où se tenaient les
élèves de l’école communale, il était venu s’asseoir sur ceux des
frères, dans la chapelle de la Vierge, qu’enfin il avait quittée pour
pénétrer dans le Saint des Saints. Pour lui quelle joie spirituelle !
Modestement il baissait les yeux. Non content de ployer le genou, il
inclinait la tête. Il se frappait la poitrine comme peur prendre à
témoin de sa confusion tous les saints du Paradis, la vierge Marie et
Dieu. Le groupe des femmes pieuses l’admirait, disant :
— C’est un petit saint.
Les quatre autres, Mignard, Fèvre, Chicard et Philizot, se
moquaient de lui : il n’y faisait pas attention.
Je ne pouvais prendre ouvertement parti pour eux, encore moins
pour lui. Je les laissais dire et faire, les approuvant de clins d’yeux et
de sourires discrets. Peu m’importait que ma position fût fausse.

Ils lui jouèrent — nous lui jouâmes, devrais-je dire, — deux bons
tours.

Il y avait trois croix : l’une à manche de bois, la moins lourde ;

l’autre toute en métal nickelé, qui pesait davantage : la troisième en
bronze doré, que seuls les plus forts pouvaient porter. Nous ne la
prenions que lors des processions de la Fête-Dieu et des
enterrements de première classe. Berlâne était enfant de chœur
depuis neuf mois — il entrait dans sa dixième année et il était
toujours le même : petit, maigre et faible, — lorsqu’en juillet une
vieille dame mourut. Elle habitait, presque hors de la petite ville, une
grande maison bourgeoise entourée d’un vaste jardin, d’un parc et
de bois. Mignard, le plus ancien de nous six, n’attendait, eût-on dit,
que cette occasion. Berlâne avait trouvé moyen de ne pas porter la
croix de bronze pour la Fête-Dieu : cette fois il n’y « couperait pas ».
Mignard ne comprenait qu’une chose : puisque Berlâne gagnait
autant que nous, il devait fournir la même somme de travail, sinon il
n’avait qu’à céder sa place à un autre. A douze ans Mignard était
socialiste, mais brutalement et sans le savoir.
Nous allâmes chercher le cadavre de la vieille dame à l’autre
extrémité de la ville. La coutume était qu’au retour on s’arrêtât au
bas de la rue escarpée qui monte à l’église pour permettre aux
hommes qui portaient le cercueil de souffler et de s’éponger le front :
surtout au mois de juillet.
Certainement Berlâne devait s’y attendre ; à un geste que fit
Mignard, il s’approcha, obéissant. Mignard lui passa sur l’épaule la
courroie à godet de cuir, et de nouveau le cortège s’ébranla.
Comme entraîné par le poids de la croix qu’il avait légèrement
penchée, Berlâne oscilla, puis réussit à reprendre son équilibre, et il
me sembla que j’oscillais avec lui. Je ne respirai que quand je vis
qu’il n’était pas tombé. Il marchait, s’agrippant à la croix comme à
quelque chose de solide et de fixe qui lui servît de point d’appui
quand, au contraire, c’était elle qui comptait sur lui pour rester droite,
et il me semblait que je m’y cramponnais en même temps que lui.
Tout de suite il fut couvert de sueur, et mon front et mes joues se
mouillèrent d’angoisse. Il grimpait vraiment le long de la montée de
l’âpre calvaire. Il y allait de son honneur d’enfant et de la tranquillité
de sa mère. S’il était incapable de porter cette croix, sans doute
pensait-il qu’il serait rayé de la liste des enfants de chœur. Ses
talons martelaient le sol dur. Chaque pas qu’il faisait me torturait.
J’aurais voulu lui prendre son fardeau, mais le respect humain m’en
empêcha : les quatre autres se seraient moqués de moi.
Ils avaient du mal à contenir leur joie. Philizot me poussa du
coude.
— Regarde-le donc ! dit-il.
Je ne le regardais que trop. Mais j’étais leur complice.
C’était surtout à l’entrée de l’église qu’ils l’attendaient. Pour
passer sous le tympan de la grande porte, il faudrait qu’il inclinât la
croix, trop haute, et cette fois elle ne manquerait pas de l’entraîner
pour de bon. Il aurait beau essayer de résister : il fallait être assez
fort et en avoir l’habitude. En effet. Si Mignard, en pouffant de rire,
ne s’était pas précipité pour le retenir, elle se serait brisée sur les
dalles. En même temps — mais bien malgré lui, — il empêcha
Berlâne de tomber. Comme si j’avais buté contre quelque invisible
obstacle, je me penchai en avant et il me sembla que c’était moi que
retenait Mignard.
 Nous formions un groupe jaloux de son indépendance. Pour ne
point obéir à un code de lois spéciales, nous n’en avions pas moins
nos habitudes particulières, et nos manies de caste. C’est ainsi que,
je ne me rappelle plus pour quel méfait, Philizot fut mis en
quarantaine jusqu’à ce qu’il demandât grâce.
Nous nous racontions les hauts faits des précédentes
générations d’enfants de chœur, de ceux qui avaient douze ou treize
ans à l’époque où nous n’en avions que cinq ou six et que nous
considérions alors comme des géants. Notre plus profond désir était
d’arriver comme eux au jour de notre première communion pour
porter enfin, au lieu d’une culotte courte, un pantalon noir dont le bas
dépasserait notre soutane rouge.
Nous avions notre sacristie : il y avait « celle de M. le curé » et
« celle des enfants de chœur ». En vérité nous n’y jouissions que
d’un placard, tous les autres étant occupés par des chandeliers, par
des vases de fleurs, par différents ornements, par des chapes pliées
en deux sur de longues tringles en bois mobiles, par les habits du
suisse et de mon père qui avaient un placard pour eux deux. Mais
cette sacristie était vraiment la nôtre, tant nous l’emplissions de
notre turbulence, parfois de nos querelles. Dans le placard chacun
de nous avait, par rang d’ancienneté, sa place attitrée où accrocher
ses soutanes noire et rouge et ses surplis. Malheur à celui qui eût
prétendu empiéter sur le territoire de son voisin !
Tous n’étaient pas capables de porter le pain bénit : pour ne point
faire tomber les deux couronnes, il fallait avoir le tour d’épaules.
Mais ceux qui le portaient aidaient à le couper en petits morceaux
avant qu’il fût distribué, et non seulement ils en mangeaient à
satiété, mais ils en bourraient leurs poches. La plupart du temps ce
n’était que du pain très ordinaire, et pareil à celui que nos mères
nous envoyaient prendre chez le boulanger. Mais nous le
considérions comme infiniment meilleur. Aussi était-ce à qui
« porterait » le plus souvent le pain bénit. Et quand les deux plus
jeunes tentaient de faire valoir leurs droits, ils en entendaient de
belles !
 Les deux plus anciens étaient spécialement chargés le premier
de l’encensoir, le second de la navette d’encens. Les quatre autres
attendaient que leur tour vînt. Nous admettions généralement et
volontiers qu’il fallût être doué d’aptitudes exceptionnelles pour
encenser, les jours de grande fête, à Magnificat, monsieur le curé, le
vicaire et le peuple.
Aux enterrements, aussitôt prononcé sur le bord de la fosse le
dernier Requiescat in pace, nous rentrions dans l’église et nous
nous précipitions vers le chœur pour y éteindre nos cierges qui
avaient brûlé durant toute la cérémonie. Car chaque membre du
« clergé » avait droit à son cierge qu’il emportait chez lui. Nous
épargnions ainsi peut-être un millimètre de cire, mais nous pensions
réaliser d’importantes économies.
Mais nos grands jours étaient ceux des « rouloires ». Et ce fut à
cette occasion que nous jouâmes à Berlâne un autre bon tour.

Depuis le vingt et un mars le printemps aurait dû être à son poste

avec ses dernières perce-neige et ses premières violettes. Mais il
venait sans doute de loin, à petites journées, car il y avait encore de
la neige dans les bois, le long des sentiers et des haies. Cependant
c’était le mercredi de la semaine sainte. Encore trois jours, et ce
serait Pâques. Qu’est-ce que le printemps faisait donc cette année ?
Cela ne nous empêcha point de partir vers huit heures du matin,
panier au bras, bâton à la main, comme nous avions fait la veille et
l’avant-veille. Mignard était notre chef : il allait avoir treize ans.
L’autorité qu’il avait sur nous, il la devait non seulement à son
ancienneté, mais aussi à ses yeux mauvais et à ses manières
brusques. Le plus jeune, c’était Berlâne. Pour la deuxième fois il
venait avec nous chercher des œufs dans les villages. C’est une
vieille habitude dans nos pays. Nous appelions cela : aller aux
rouloires.
Qui en avait fixé l’itinéraire ? Cela remontait peut-être à une
époque très lointaine. Le lundi nous parcourions les villages, les
hameaux et les fermes disséminés à l’ouest de la petite ville ; le
mardi nous allions dans la direction du nord, et le mercredi nous
cheminions vers l’est, nous enfonçant davantage, à chaque pas que
nous faisions, dans le Morvan.
La tournée du mercredi, la moins fructueuse, était aussi la plus
fatigante. Nous visitions des villages très éloignés les uns des
autres, et non plus groupés comme ceux du lundi et du mardi sur
des terrains fertiles, et nous avions dans les jambes, malgré le repos
de la nuit, les kilomètres des deux jours précédents. Déjà, le mardi
soir, Berlâne était rendu de lassitude. Nous pensions qu’il ne pourrait
pas venir le mercredi, mais il fut exact au rendez-vous. Il se dévouait
pour sa mère : les œufs qu’il lui rapportait, elle n’avait pas besoin de
les acheter.
Nous ne fûmes pas contents de le voir. Nous avions espéré que,
la fatigue l’obligeant à rester à la maison, nous pourrions entre nous
cinq nous partager sa part. Comme c’était son droit de venir, nous
ne le renvoyâmes point, mais Mignard nous dit :
— On va le faire trimer. Faudra qu’il reste en route.
Nous partîmes. Nous frappâmes en vain à certaines portes.
Celles-ci étaient closes parce qu’on travaillait dans les champs,
celles-là parce qu’on était pauvre et qu’il est inutile de donner des
œufs qui peuvent se vendre. Ici l’on nous demandait de chanter un
cantique, et cela semblait tout drôle, de chanter dans cette ferme, la
porte ouverte sur la cour boueuse où pataugeaient oies et canards.
Là une vieille nous disait, malicieuse sous sa coiffe noire :
— Tenez, mes petits : voilà dix œufs que j’ai mis de côté pour
vous ; mais il faudra venir me chercher le plus tard possible pour
m’emmener là-haut.
Elle désignait l’église dont on n’apercevait que la flèche lointaine
et le cimetière, invisible à cette distance, mais auquel on pense
quand même.
Nous nous arrêtâmes à midi pour « goûter » à l’abri d’une haie,
dans un champ où la neige avait fondu. Il pleuvait un peu. Le ciel
était tout gris. Nous allumâmes un feu de bois mort et de balai vert.
Nous avions tous du vin, sauf Berlâne qui ne buvait que de l’eau, le
vin lui donnant des maux de tête.
Puis nous continuâmes notre tournée. Il recommençait à traîner
la jambe, mais il faisait son possible pour ne pas rester en arrière.
L’après-midi passa. Le soleil s’était montré vers deux heures. Nous
n’avions pas besoin de lui : à marcher on a vite fait d’attraper chaud.
Mais, quand il fut cinq heures, nous sentîmes le froid.
En sortant du dernier village, nous nous arrêtâmes à la corne
d’un bois pour partager nos œufs. C’était tout de même une bonne
journée, puisque nous en eûmes chacun vingt-huit dans notre
panier. Cette année, les gens avaient été plus généreux.
Nous nous reposâmes dix minutes parce que nous avions encore
une bonne lieue à faire avant d’arriver à la petite ville. Puis Mignard
dit :
— A présent nous allons rire.
En effet. Nous mîmes les enjambées doubles en traversant le
bois qui n’en finissait plus. Berlâne réussit à nous suivre l’espace
d’un demi-kilomètre. Après, ce fut plus fort que lui : il ne pouvait plus
respirer. C’est qu’il ne s’agissait pas aujourd’hui de rejoindre Robert
et Georges qui s’étaient assis pour allumer une cigarette !
A un tournant nous disparûmes. Il restait tout seul dans le bois
envahi par le crépuscule. Il voulut courir, trébucha et tomba sur son
panier plein d’œufs.
Nous nous étions arrêtés pour écouter s’il appellerait au secours.
Nous n’entendîmes rien. Tout de même nous ne pouvions pas
revenir sans lui. Je proposai :
— Si nous retournions voir ?
Je le découvris pleurant à chaudes larmes ses œufs perdus. N’y
pouvant résister, je dis aux autres :
— Si nous lui en donnions chacun quatre ?
Ils ne m’écoutèrent pas.
 IX

Ce fut pour ainsi dire sa dernière faiblesse. Rien désormais ne

put avoir raison de sa sérénité. Nos vexations ne l’atteignaient plus.
Il se disait que, si nous agissions ainsi, ce ne devait être qu’après
avoir mûrement réfléchi. De mes silences ce n’était pas moi, mais lui
seul qu’il rendait responsable : pour lui si peu adresser la parole, à
quels impérieux motifs ne devais-je pas obéir ! Comme il était loin de
nous qu’il imaginait autres et meilleurs que nous n’étions ! Comme il
vivait dans un monde idéal ! Je ne pourrais pas affirmer que, lorsqu’il
m’adressait la parole, ce ne fût pas avec lui-même qu’il s’entretînt. Et
ce n’était plus pour me demander conseil au sujet de ses devoirs.
C’était pour me parler — peut-être pour se parler, — de l’histoire
sainte qu’il commençait à apprendre en français pour les jours de
catéchisme et à traduire du latin pour les jours de leçons. Mais pour
sa joie intérieure il l’avait lue déjà et relue de la première à la
dernière page.
Le Dieu terrible des armées, devant lequel il faut se voiler la face,
tantôt parlait aux hommes environné de fumée, d’éclairs et de
tonnerre, tantôt s’entretenait avec eux comme avec de petits
enfants. Il y avait des plaines fécondes où les patriarches plantaient
leurs tentes, et des déserts que les peuples se hâtaient de traverser.
Comme si ce n’était pas assez des flammes du soleil sur la morne
Arabie et de leur réverbération sur les sables, il faut qu’au sommet
de l’Horeb brûle en plein midi le mystérieux buisson qui ne se
consume pas. Les anges descendent souvent du ciel, porteurs des
conseils et des ordres de l’Éternel ; ils marchent sur la terre
absolument comme s’ils n’avaient pas d’ailes. Parce que les
desseins du Très-Haut sont sur Rébecca, les chameaux d’Éliezer se
couchent aux portes de la ville à l’heure où les jeunes filles viennent
puiser de l’eau à la fontaine. Partout la présence de Jéhovah qui
conduit son peuple par la main. Le merveilleux est la réalité de
chaque heure. Comme les captifs de Babylone songeaient en
pleurant à Sion disparue, Berlâne vivait là-bas, dans les plaines de
Judée.
Puis Dieu lui-même, en une de ses trois personnes, descendait
parmi nous. Et, depuis sa naissance dans une étable jusqu’au matin
triomphal de sa résurrection, l’Évangile n’était qu’un long tissu
d’enchantements. Par respect humain j’affectais de montrer que je
n’étais pas ému par le symbolisme des cérémonies religieuses. Lui
s’y abandonnait tout entier. Son visage, rayonnant pour Pâques,
pour la Pentecôte, pour Noël, était couvert de tristesse dès le
dimanche de la Passion, comme les statues d’un voile violet.
S’il ne lisait ni les livres de la Bibliothèque Rose, ni les œuvres de
Jules Verne, d’Henri Conscience et de Paul Féval, dont je faisais
mes délices, il trouvait le temps de se familiariser avec les vies des
saints. Il trouvait parmi eux des pontifes illustres et d’humbles
moines, des reines et des paysannes, de grands savants et des
ignorants qui ne pouvaient que réciter leur chapelet, des riches qui
pour obéir à Dieu n’avaient pas quitté leur palais, des pauvres dont
la vie s’était écoulée au fond des bois dans une grotte obscure et
froide : ils se rassasiaient de pain dur et buvaient de l’eau d’une
source voisine. Ils ne se seraient pas permis de cueillir les mûres
des ronciers ni les prunelles des haies. Mais leurs miracles
foisonnaient comme les épis d’une riche moisson. Ils commandaient
aux éléments et charmaient les bêtes féroces. Leur pouvoir
s’étendait même sur les anges du ciel et ils enchaînaient le démon.
C’était avec eux aussi que vivait Berlâne. Ces légendes dont je
ne voulais retenir que la naïveté poétique étaient pour lui des sujets
d’édification. Il croyait au loup soudain domestiqué, à la croix
apparue entre les bois du cerf.
A mesure qu’il se rendait compte de sa transformation, l’abbé
Bichelonne devenait plus doux pour lui. Souvent il nous emmenait
avec lui, surtout le dimanche après vêpres, dans les bois ou dans les
villages les plus proches.
L’été, nous prenions nos leçons dans le jardin du presbytère,
sous des marronniers dont les longues branches attachées au mur
formaient berceau : leurs dernières fleurs rouges tombaient sur les
pages de nos livres. C’était tout autour de nous l’habituelle torpeur
des chaudes après-midi. Je songeais que ceux de mon âge
s’amusaient près de l’étang du Goulot, barbotant dans l’eau tiède
sous les regards des jeunes filles, que Robert et Georges se
baignaient et qu’il y avait sur la chaussée, les surveillant, Mme
Labrosse et Mlle Gertrude, et d’autres demoiselles. Ici, dans ce
jardin, je me sentais à l’écart de la vie de la petite ville. Des envies
me prenaient de jeter ma grammaire latine sur le sable et de m’en
aller. D’ailleurs je n’aurais jamais osé me baigner avec tout ce
monde.
Je regardais Berlâne. Attentif aux paroles du vicaire, il ne
tressaillait pas comme moi d’impatience. Rien ne manquait à son
bonheur. Maintenant c’était sa tranquillité qui m’exaspérait.
Un an avant lui je fis ma première communion, au mois de mai.
Et en octobre je partis pour le petit séminaire où il devait me
rejoindre l’année suivante. Enfin j’allais donc être délivré de lui pour
quelque temps !
 X

Non : je n’en menais pas large ! Abandonné à mes propres

ressources, pour faire le fanfaron je n’avais plus Berlâne auprès de
moi.
J’avais fini par m’illusionner sur moi-même. De le voir si
obéissant à tous, j’étais arrivé à me considérer comme un foudre de
guerre, de le voir si pieux, à me croire un cerveau d’homme libre.
Maintenant qu’il me manquait, je me retrouvais tel que je n’avais
jamais cessé d’être.
A l’entrée du petit séminaire, la voiture me déposa comme un
colis, sous les murs de la chapelle, au milieu d’une espèce de cour
dont aucune barrière n’interdisait l’accès. Des marronniers — j’en
retrouverais donc partout ? — laissaient tomber en même temps
leurs derniers fruits mûrs et leurs premières feuilles mortes. Je
n’étais pas de voiture descendu seul, mais déjà les autres
s’éparpillaient dans toutes les directions. J’en suivis quelques-uns au
hasard pour aboutir à une autre cour fermée, celle-ci, de tous côtés.
Je découvris le petit séminaire avec ses deux étages et ses toits
mansardés. Je voulus m’habituer aux visages et aux manières de
ceux que je voyais aller et venir autour de moi : j’y renonçai. J’en
aperçus qui devaient être comme moi des nouveaux et avec qui
j’aurais pu lier conversation : ils me paraissaient inabordables. Tous
formaient des groupes. Si j’avais eu Berlâne à mes côtés, pour la
première fois de ma vie j’aurais vraiment causé avec lui. Peut-être
même, dans le désarroi où n’eût pas manqué de le jeter lui aussi ce
brusque éloignement de notre pays, nous serions-nous juré une
éternelle amitié.
Je m’ennuyai longtemps. Mes pensées se suivaient avec cette
mélancolie monotone des lits alignés au dortoir sous leurs
couvertures grises, quand il pleut à trois heures de l’après-midi sur
les ardoises. Je n’avais pas l’habitude de la vie en commun. Par
timidité mélangée d’orgueil, dans mon pays je m’isolais.
Pareil à un mouton que le chien mord au jarret pour qu’il rejoigne
le troupeau, je me tenais à l’écart tout en étant obligé de me mêler
aux groupes de ceux qui jouaient de grand cœur. Divisés en deux
camps, ils se renvoyaient balle ou ballon à coups de galoches ou
d’échasses. Je me tenais toujours au dernier rang, non par peur de
recevoir des coups, mais parce que ces jeux bruyants me
semblaient sauvages : les plus impétueux, les chefs, avaient des
échasses bardées de fer.
Je me liai avec Autissier qui me paraissait être beaucoup plus
grand que moi, bien que nous fussions du même âge et qu’ayant
commencé très tard à apprendre le latin il vînt d’entrer en septième :
il y était avec des gamins dont le plus âgé avait trois ans de moins
que lui. Parmi eux il avait vraiment l’air d’un « grand » et moi qui
étais en quatrième je me considérais auprès de lui comme un élève
de septième : on aurait dit que, moi aussi, j’eusse trois ans de moins
que lui. La vocation à l’état ecclésiastique ne lui était venue qu’un
peu avant sa première communion. Tout de suite le vicaire de son
pays — Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier, — lui avait donné les premières
leçons. On le disait assez intelligent pour passer, en six mois, de
septième en cinquième.
En attendant, nous nous promenions ensemble, comme deux
philosophes, à la récréation du matin. Je l’écoutais me parler de la
ville où il était né.
Elle possédait une église du XIIe siècle, les restes d’un cloître et
de remparts du XVe et quelques vieilles maisons. La grande ligne de
Paris à Clermont la touchait en passant et, pour baigner ses murs,
l’Allier n’aurait eu qu’à légèrement détourner son cours.
Plusieurs fois Autissier était allé à Moulins. Il en connaissait la
cathédrale aux deux grandes flèches, qu’en voit de loin, la tour Mal
Coiffée, le Jacquemart et les vieilles maisons plus nombreuses qu’à
Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier. Il avait entendu sonner les trompettes du
régiment de chasseurs à cheval, et il me parlait avec enthousiasme
de leurs shakos, de leurs dolmans bleus et de leurs pantalons
rouges à basanes.
Il rêvait d’être lui-même un jour chasseur à cheval. Alors,
pourquoi donc était-il venu au séminaire ? Espérait-il pouvoir tenir
d’une main le bréviaire, et le sabre de l’autre ? Pour l’instant, cela ne
nous inquiétait ni lui, ni moi. Je pensais seulement que j’étais
beaucoup moins avancé que lui.
Il n’y avait chez nous qu’une église trop neuve, bâtie dix ans
avant ma naissance. J’en trouvais trop clairs les vitraux et les
fenêtres trop larges. Pas une de ces vieilles maisons pittoresques
que j’aimais pour les avoir vues en images. Pour la première fois, en
octobre, j’avais traversé une toute petite partie de Nevers, et je me
disais que Moulins, que je ne connaissais pas, devait être bien
mieux. Pour venir jusqu’ici, c’était la deuxième fois que je fusse
monté dans un train après avoir roulé une heure et demie en
diligence, et je m’étais senti pénétré d’admiration pour tous les
employés de chemins de fer, depuis le dernier homme d’équipe
jusqu’aux chefs de gare, sans oublier le mécanicien. Souvent j’avais
rêvé au bonheur de ceux qui n’ont que quelques pas à faire pour
venir s’accouder aux barrières des gares ; ils entendent arriver les
trains avant d’avoir vu d’eux autre chose que de la fumée. Puis la
locomotive apparaît avec son large poitrail et son long cou. On ne
voit pas ses pieds ; elle préfère se servir de roues. Mère imposante
des wagons qu’elle entraîne, ils la suivent, comme de petits veaux
leurs mamans vaches.
Ils défilent en bon ordre, ne s’arrêtent pas toujours et font
beaucoup de bruit en passant. On entre dans l’intimité des
employés, dont on finit par ne plus avoir peur. Le jour où l’on réussit
à donner au chef de gare une poignée de main doit être marqué d’un
caillou blanc. Et Autissier connaissait le chef de gare de Saint-
Pierre-le-Moutier.
Nous nous promenions donc ensemble à la récréation du matin.
Les autres nous regardaient tourner comme deux chevaux au
manège, deux chevaux des chasseurs de Moulins. Le reste du
temps, il n’hésitait pas à se lancer dans la mêlée, au premier rang,
parmi les plus enragés.
J’étais au supplice quand il me fallait traverser sous les regards
des autres l’étude ou la chapelle dans toute sa longueur. Mes bras
ballants m’embarrassaient. Il m’arriva de trébucher d’émotion.
J’attendais avec anxiété le mercredi, jour d’instruction religieuse à la
chapelle pour les classes réunies de quatrième, cinquième, sixième
et septième.
Je tremblais à l’idée que l’on pût m’interroger au milieu de cette
assemblée : même les petits de septième m’en imposaient. Le jour
où je dus me lever à l’appel de mon nom, mes dents
s’entrechoquèrent. En classe même, où nous n’étions qu’une
quinzaine, il me fallut plusieurs mois pour m’habituer à répondre en
public. J’en arrivais à bégayer comme Berlâne. Et l’on m’eut vite fait
une réputation d’ours, d’original, de pas-comme-les-autres, pour
parler comme ma mère.
Je pensais :
« Eh bien, qu’est-ce qu’ils diront de Berlâne ! »
Et j’attendais avec impatience la prochaine rentrée d’octobre.
Mais je le retrouvai avant, lors des vacances de Pâques. Je me
rattrapai sur lui de ma contrainte et de mes humiliations de six mois.
Non sans morgue, je lui parlai du froid qu’il fallait endurer, des jeux
terribles auxquels nous nous livrions corps et âme, des études
difficiles, de certains élèves redoutables et de professeurs pas
commodes. A m’en croire, j’avais eu raison de tout et de tous. Je lui
décrivis le dortoir comme une grande salle glaciale et sombre,
éclairée seulement par deux veilleuses et jamais chauffée, où les
plus hardis sortaient de leur lit à deux heures du matin pour tirer des
oreilles, pincer le nez de ceux qui ronflaient trop fort et même des
paisibles dormeurs. Il me demanda comment était construite la
chapelle !
Sa tranquillité m’irritant, je forçai encore la note, mais aller au
petit séminaire faisait partie de sa conception de la vie. Et je me
demandais si ce n’était pas là qu’il serait dans le seul milieu qui lui
convînt. Au fond, j’étais confus qu’il m’écoutât comme je faisais moi-
même d’Autissier : avec respect.
Trois autres mois passèrent après la rentrée. Nous pensions tous
au beau jour de la distribution des prix, qui serait celui du départ des
grandes vacances. Encore aujourd’hui je ne m’en souviens pas sans
fièvre, et souvent la nuit j’en rêve. Dans ma malle que je ferme et
ficelle, dans des caisses que je cloue maladroitement, je me revois
empilant mon linge, mes livres, tout ce qui m’appartient, courant de
la case aux chaussures à la chapelle, où j’ai oublié mon Graduel et
mon Vespéral. Nous nous bousculons dans les escaliers, mais déjà
nous ne nous connaissons plus : chacun de nous pense à son pays
qu’il va retrouver pour deux longs mois. Sur les ardoises et sur la
poussière que nous piétinons, il y a le grand soleil de juillet. Toutes
les fenêtres sont ouvertes, comme des portes de cages d’où les
oiseaux vont s’envoler.
La distribution des prix me laissait à peu près indifférent :
déséquilibré, j’avais mal travaillé. Je m’étais tenu dans une honnête
médiocrité. Ce ne fut pas sans étonnement que je m’entendis
appeler pour le premier prix d’instruction religieuse, — pourtant
avais-je assez tremblé lors des interrogations, et la piété n’était pas
mon fort, — et pour deux ou trois autres accessits. Puis, après un Te
Deum chanté à pleine gorge à la chapelle sans le secours de nos
antiphonaires emballés de la veille, en route sur la grand’route qui
conduit à Nevers.
 XI

Quelques mois auparavant je songeais, avec une joie ironique et

mauvaise, à la rentrée d’octobre. Mais quand ce ne fut plus qu’une
question de jours, quand la dernière nuit de septembre eut été
emportée par le vent qui soufflait avec rage et que le premier matin
d’octobre fut dénoncé par la gelée blanche sur l’herbe, je fus envahi
d’une grande mélancolie : que pouvait me faire, à présent, que
Berlâne partît en même temps que moi ? Je m’occupais bien de lui,
en vérité !
Je revis les deux mois que j’avais passés à courir partout, sauf
en ville, où je me montrais le moins possible et presque toujours
seul, tant il m’en coûtait de supporter la compagnie de Berlâne :
l’expérience que j’en avais faite aux vacances de Pâques me
suffisait.
J’étais tout de même obligé de le voir de temps en temps, soit
qu’il vînt me surprendre avant que je fusse parti pour la promenade,
soit que ma mère me dît :
— Va donc chez Albert. Ce n’est pas lui, pour sûr, qui te donnera
de mauvais conseils. Je me demande ce que tu trouves de si
intéressant à traîner toujours seul dans les bois.
Ces jours-là étaient pour moi marqués d’un caillou noir.
Je le voyais aussi le dimanche à la grand’messe et aux vêpres,
vêtu de sa soutane rouge d’enfant de chœur, plus pieux que jamais.
Au mois de mai dernier, il avait fait sa première communion.
Quelquefois enfin, il venait avec le vicaire me prendre. Tandis
qu’ensemble ils parlaient religion, j’écoutais les guêpes bourdonner
autour des grandes digitales qui poussent dans les clairières où les
charbonniers jadis ont tassé leurs meules. L’abbé Bichelonne me
disait :
— Sais-tu qu’Albert a fait beaucoup de progrès depuis ton
départ ? Je crois que maintenant il est aussi fort que toi.
J’essayais de sourire, tout en souffrant à penser que c’était peut-
être vrai. L’abbé trouvait-il que je n’avais pas eu assez de prix ? Eh
bien, dès la rentrée on allait voir !
Il s’en fallait pourtant que j’attendisse ce jour avec la même
impatience que Berlâne : au contraire. Lui, plus nous nous
rapprochions de la date et plus son visage s’illuminait. Tout étonnée,
sa mère me répétait :
— Je n’y comprends rien. On dirait qu’il est heureux de me
quitter.

Lorsque nous fûmes tous les deux dans la diligence, sa joie me

fit mal. Il n’avait donc pas de cœur ? Il ne voyait donc pas sa mère
agiter son mouchoir ? Il ne pensait donc pas qu’avant de le remettre
dans sa poche elle s’en essuierait les yeux ? Quand je me rappelais
mon premier départ, quand aujourd’hui encore, sentant la vie
inexorable tirer sur moi comme avec une corde le bûcheron sur un
arbre qui lui résiste, j’avais les larmes au bord des paupières, et que
je le regardais, lui, assis en face de moi, j’avais des envies de le
gifler, de le griffer, de le mordre. Et il eut l’audace de dire :
— Enfin, nous voici partis !
Les mains sur les genoux, sa grosse tête inclinée, il obéissait aux
cahots de la diligence. Nous croisions des troupeaux d’oies grises à
ventre blanc qu’effrayait le bruit des grelots sonnant aux colliers des
trois chevaux.
 A partir de la première gare où nous prîmes le train, à presque
chaque station je ne fis que retrouver des élèves, — je ne dis pas :
des camarades, — plus jeunes ou plus âgés que moi. Refrogné
dans un coin, avec Berlâne toujours en face de moi, je les laissais
causer, s’épanouir et rire. L’un d’eux me demanda :
— C’est un nouveau que tu amènes ?
Je fus sur le point de répondre :
— Oui. Et nous l’appelions Berlâne.
Je ne doutais point que le mot n’eût fait fortune. Mais, me
retenant, je me contentai de dire :
— Oui. Nous sommes du même pays.
Et je fus stupéfait de le voir, toute sa timidité d’autrefois disparue,
prendre contact et causer avec eux, au bout de quelques minutes,
comme s’il les avait connus depuis très longtemps. C’était moi qui
avais l’air d’être le nouveau.
J’affectai de me désintéresser de leur conversation et regardai
défiler ces paysages qui ressemblaient de moins en moins à mes
horizons familiers. Je sentais qu’à mesure que je m’éloignais de mon
véritable pays, Berlâne se rapprochait de celui qui deviendrait sa
terre d’élection.
Quand nous fûmes arrivés, je le laissai se dépêtrer tout seul,
mais en l’épiant du coin de l’œil et de loin, m’attendant à ce qu’il vînt
me demander indications et secours. Non. Il était déjà comme
poisson dans l’eau. Je regrettai de lui avoir donné, lors des
vacances de Pâques, trop de détails sur ma première installation : il
n’en avait pas oublié un seul !
Il parvint à me rejoindre avant que nous n’entrions au réfectoire
et me dit :
— Toutes mes affaires sont rangées.
Je ne le savais que trop. Mais croyait-il donc que cela pût
m’intéresser ? Il ajouta :
— Je t’aurais bien demandé de m’aider, mais je n’ai pas voulu te
déranger.
 Ainsi l’enfant qui, pour la première fois, marche seul, se retourne,
étonné, vers sa mère et s’excuserait, s’il pouvait parler, de n’avoir
pas eu besoin de son soutien. J’avais eu l’air très affairé, allant d’un
groupe à l’autre, affectant de serrer des mains d’élèves qui, toute
l’année précédente, m’avaient tenu à l’écart, et de leur parler comme
si nous avions été d’excellents amis ; ils n’en revenaient pas. Mais je
voyais bien que Berlâne, seul, trouvait cela tout naturel. Il m’avait
toujours considéré comme un puits de science, et pour lui je ne
pouvais point ne pas être, ici, au-dessus de tous. Il me fallait, bon
gré, mal gré, m’introduire dans la peau du nouveau personnage qu’il
allait, sans le savoir, me contraindre à jouer.
 XII

C’était avec satisfaction que j’entrais en troisième. Le Séminaire

comprenait seulement deux divisions : les petits, les grands. Dans
celle des grands, il y avait les élèves de seconde et de rhétorique ;
dans celle des petits, tous les autres, de la septième à la troisième ;
parmi ces derniers, pourtant, certains, que désignaient leur âge, leur
taille et les premiers poils qui leur poussaient sur les joues, faisaient
partie des grands. Ainsi, parmi mes condisciples de quatrième, deux
n’étaient pas dans l’étude des petits : Thomas et Doreau, que nous
appelions « le vieux Doreau » : il avait quinze ans ! Toujours le
dernier, d’ailleurs. Il avait plus de barbe au menton que de jugement,
mais, sachant que ce n’était point sa faute, il était fier d’être parmi
les grands : peu lui importait d’être le dernier en classe. Je ne le
valais pas et restai avec trois autres de mon cours chez les petits
pour une année encore : nous allions être, nous quatre, les plus
importants de la division.
J’occupai, à l’étude, la table du fond, comme il convient à
quelqu’un qui n’a plus besoin de surveillance immédiate. Berlâne
avait trouvé sa place marquée à la craie trois tables en avant de la
mienne : j’estimais que la distance entre lui et moi n’était pas
suffisante.
J’ai oublié de dire qu’à la rentrée de Pâques, Autissier avait sauté
de septième en cinquième ; de sorte qu’en quatrième Berlâne allait
être son condisciple. Il avait pris rapidement la tête de sa classe, et