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MASKED BY CHAOS
MYSTIC HARBOR BOOK TWO
SUKI WILLIAMS
JARICA JAMES
Copyright © 2022 by Suki Williams and Jarica James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.

Cover: Jarica James

Editing by: Proofs by Polly
Formatting by: Jarica James
 CONTENTS

Welcome to Mystic Harbor

Trigger Warning
Prologue-Reed
1. Ella
2. Ella
3. Cedric
4. Ella
5. Ella
6. Ella
7. Ella
8. Ella
9. Ella
10. Ella
11. Ella
12. Ella
13. Ella
14. Ella
15. Ella
16. Ella
17. Reed
18. Ella
19. Ella
20. Ella
21. Joseph
22. Maddox
Epilogue - Ella

What Next?
Also By Suki Williams
Also By Jarica James
About the Authors
 WELCOME TO MYSTIC HARBOR

Welcome to Mystic Harbor, a paranormal small town on the coast.

This is an omegaverse world, meaning that everyone, including
humans, are either Alphas, Betas, or Omegas. If Omegaverse,
knotting, and omegas with heat are not your thing, this book may
not be for you.

Alpha, Beta, Omegas (ABO)

Dominant, possessive, and protective, alphas tend to be leaders.

The betas are the level-headed caregivers that defer to their alpha
for guidance (or at least in most cases). They’re the glue that binds
a family unit and can help bridge the gap between overbearing
alphas and the headstrong omegas. During heats, the betas are
generally the ones ensuring everyone stays fed, hydrated, and safe.
Omega males, while they cannot bear children, still have heats and
produce slick. They have the same nurturing, softer natures that
help in raising children and creating a family. Omega females also
experience heats, which is their most fertile time. They bear the
children and are the piece that completes the unit. Only alphas can
get omega females pregnant, and only omega females can become
pregnant in this world.
 TRIGGER WARNING

T his is an ABO omegaverse Reverse Harem Romance. Despite the

main character’s background, the story will be a lighter/steamy
omegaverse. The main character does experience on-page mental
health trauma - hospitalization - and abuse by her medical staff.
 Reed

“T here is no sign of her,” Hunter rumbled as he pulled at his

beard. Frustration was clear in the bear’s amber eyes as the
others around us started cursing. “The missing person report I put
out has gotten no hits. The father’s MIA and her mother can’t be
reached at all. I tried calling and once I introduced myself I just got
information for a lawyer then the call disconnected.”
“They aren’t her parents,” Dean, Ella’s biological father, shot back
heatedly from where he was pacing back and forth in our kitchen.
Brooks didn’t comment but he carefully watched his father and all of
us, waiting to see what was going to happen.
“Not biologically,” Hunter responded carefully. “But in the eyes of
the law, they are her parents. Regardless, I reached out to the
lawyer but I just got the runaround. They aren’t going to be
cooperating.”
I sighed, my shoulders slouching as I leaned back into the couch
I was sitting on. Maddox hesitantly wrapped an arm around my
shoulders, pulling me into his side to offer comfort, and the crisp,
clean smell of snow made me smile as I snuggled into him. The
others around us started murmuring, discussing more plans to try to
track down our missing mate. Ella had been gone for a week and
there had been no sign of her. Not even a whisper of her or her
power. The shifters couldn’t smell her, the trail running cold at the
town lines. We had tried to locate the mental hospital Ella was
constantly thrown into by those that had raised her, but we didn’t
know the name of the place.
“We will find her, Reed.” Maddox’s deep, gravelly voice was
comforting and I found myself pulling back enough to give him a
half smile.
“I just don’t want to think about what’s happening to her until we
find her,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. It was a constant worry
in my mind, the memories of her powers revealing her horrible
experiences at the mental institution as a child and teenager. Plus,
her going into heat right before she was taken at the festival… I
shuddered to think of what she was going through having that
happen alone. Best case scenario, they just drugged her through it.
Worst case, they found people to service her through it.
“Hey.” Maddox combed his fingers through my long, blond hair.
“We need to concentrate on what we can control right now. And
every man in this room has had that same thought… If we think
about it too much all of us will lose it, tearing everyone and
everything apart until we find her.” The hint of warning in his tone
made me shiver, the utter alphaness of him coming out at that
moment.
“If we could just find the mental hospital,” Leif stated, pulling at
his hair in frustration.
“Yeah. She ran away to get away from them,” I agreed with my
cousin. “But how are we going to figure out where that is?”
 None of us had answers and seeing so many alphas sprawled
out, their anger and helplessness building was making my skin itch.
Even the betas, Drystan and Spencer, were running out of ideas to
help calm the alphas. Though it did seem more like Drystan wanted
to pick a fight with them just to let out his frustration, one that I
think Leif was considering when Drystan made him coffee instead of
his usual tea with a taunting lazy smile. I swear the two of them
didn’t make any sense.
We were all staying at the house Ella had found in the woods
that we had all claimed as our own. Mystic Harbor was known to
provide for its people and this place was perfect for us. After Ella
was taken and we came up here there was a saltwater lake near the
house that hadn’t been there before. It was fairly large and deep.
When Asra tried it out the next day he came back with a bright
gleam in his eyes. There were underwater caves that somehow
connected to the harbor below. Sometimes it was best to not
question what magic could do, especially the magic of this town, but
it made it so that most nights either Asra or Tanniv stayed here with
all of us.
There was a knock on the door that instantly made all of us alert
and in walked Violet, her bright, blue eyes flashing with fierce
determination.
“What have you found?” Leif asked, skipping any kind of
pleasantries.
“Nothing,” Violet growled as she slammed the door behind her.
“But I have an idea on how to find her.”
“How?” Tanniv asked, his charcoal gray eyes focused on her with
an intensity I wouldn’t want centered on me.
“A private detective. He can track down anything.”
“And we are just hearing about this now?” Dean asked in a too
calm voice.
“Who is it?” Leif asked carefully, keeping his eye on Dean as he
prowled into the living room to glare at Violet.
“His name is Remington. He is an alpha in the Crescent Ridge
Pack. He has a PI business and he’s the best. If anyone can find her,
it’s him.” She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it off to Leif
before turning on her heel and heading for the door. I didn’t miss
the pointed look she gave him. There was definitely a story behind
this PI. “Don’t tell him I gave you his information. And Leif? Bring
me back my friend.”
We were all silent as Violet walked out, the tension heavy as the
alpha wolf left our home. I kept my attention on Leif who turned the
paper over a few times with his fingers before pulling out his phone.
“Why didn’t she tell us about this guy before?” Dean asked.
“That’s her story,” Leif told him simply, ignoring the other man’s
rising anger as he walked away to make the phone call.
“As long as he finds her, I don’t care who he is,” Brooks’ voice
was soft, but it cut through the growing tension of the room like a
knife. That’s what we all wanted, Ella home safe and sound with all
of us. Ella was part of our home and without her here, this house,
Mystic Harbor—it all just felt so hollow.
We sat in silence, waiting for Leif to return. His voice was a low
murmur in the other room as he talked to our only link of hope in
days. He came back a few minutes later, but his face gave nothing
away.
“They know of the facility.” His words hit like a bomb in the room,
an explosion of responses following after several beats of silent
processing. He held up a hand until we all quieted back down,
glaring at the alpha. “He already has a guy on the inside and is listed
as his emergency contact. He can only go in once a week for a
visitation period, so he is going to talk to him about getting
information on Ella before we act. He’s asking we don’t go in guns
blazing quite yet. And he is right, we can’t just run in there. We
need more information.”
“No deal,” Dean and Asra said vehemently, glancing at each other
before crossing their arms.
“We aren’t going to just sit back while Ella suffers. I don’t care
about anyone else or their investigation,” Asra continued.
“I didn’t say it was forever, visitation is in two days. Remington is
going to talk to his guy and then call us once he is out of the place.
If there is any info, he will give it to us. If not, he can give us a
timeline of getting Ella out.”
 “I can’t just sit here doing nothing!” Dean protested.
Leif shot him a cold glare that had me leaning further into
Maddox for protection. “What is best for Ella right now is waiting,
working smart to know what is actually going on there instead of
rushing in and getting her seriously hurt. Or are you questioning my
commitment to my mate?” The question came out as a quiet
rumbling, violence in every word as he challenged Ella’s father.
Dean’s eyes blazed before he finally relented, his posturing
softening to not seem threatening. “She might be your mate, but
she is my daughter too.”
“I respect that,” Leif responded in a too quiet voice that even
made Spencer shiver. “But we are doing the best we can with what
we have. This guy covered his tracks well and we can’t go to the
institution anyway. Remington didn’t share the address because of
that reaction right there.” He leveled a glare at Dean and then Asra.
“The website doesn’t have the information or we would have been
there already. We will get her out, as safely as possible.”
“There is a big difference this time,” I spoke up cautiously and
everyone turned to look at me questioningly. “Ella has her magic and
us. She has something to fight for this time.”
 Ella

F or two days, I’d been locked in a padded room. No meds. No

nurses. Nothing other than meals being shoved under the door.
The room was empty save for the bed, sink, and prison style toilet. I
was left with my thoughts and the heat that had amped up to the
point I was ready to start ripping my hair out.
I’d slept through what I could, but it was restless. This time, as I
opened my eyes to the familiar cinder block walls, I startled. Staring
back at me was my own personal villain… Dr. Sloane. He smirked as
he saw my reaction.
“Are you just watching me sleep?” I croaked out, my voice rough
with sleep and fever. The obvious judgment was clear in my words
as he raised an eyebrow.
 “It seems you’re full of surprises this time,” he mused, pretending
my obstinance didn't piss him off, but I didn’t miss the vein in his
forehead standing out, a sure sign he was angry.
“And it seems like you are all obsessed with me,” I shot back,
filter not in place with how miserable I felt at the moment.
“You are a profitable patient,” he said around a chuckle. “And we
were more than happy to take you back into our ranks.”
“How do you sleep at night? Knowing I’m not crazy but forcing
me to stay here?” His sharp eyes narrowed on me at that.
“Like a baby. We all have our vices, and it seems mine is the
money I bring in from your family,” he replied coolly. “And you’re as
crazy as I say you are, I’m the one with a degree, a celebrated
psychiatrist, and you’re a long-term patient.”
The truth in his words stung like a slap in the face. Imagine
being such an awful person that you’d lock someone away for your
own financial gain. Especially since he already made so much from
this fucking place.
“Don’t worry, you’re not the first and you definitely won’t be the
last,” he said bluntly. Done with the conversation, I turned on my
bed to face the wall, tightening my blanket around me. The fever
chills were hitting me strong enough I couldn’t even think to fight
with him. But if they thought this visit would be as compliant as
before they had another thing coming. I knew my mates would tear
the world apart to get me, I just had to bide my time until then.
His icy hands grabbed my neck, making me yelp as he held me
down. Bile rose in my throat as the alpha took a deep breath,
inhaling the pheromones I was involuntarily putting off. My heat was
nearly in full force and from the bulge pressing against my leg, he
knew it. If he wasn’t as cold and calculating as he was, he’d likely be
going into rut already. That idea had me freezing, sending cold fear
crawling its way slowly down my spine, paralyzing me.
“I can help you through it, you know,” he teased, voice husky as
his nose pressed to the side of my neck, inhaling again. “It’d feel a
whole lot better than isolation.”
“Only if you want me to bite your dick off,” I warned, magic
sparking in my hands and making him put distance between us. This
time his eyes glowed, angry at the rejection, but how could he have
expected any other outcome?
“Fine,” he growled as he slammed me back, trapping me against
the mattress, jabbing two needles ruthlessly into my neck.
“I doubt these heat suppressors help since you seem to have
found your mates, but the sedatives will help. I’m a monster, but not
that awful of one. Not like your mates from what your father
described to me,” he said. But I spun around the moment he
stepped away.
“I thought you said I was crazy, that supernaturals didn’t exist?!”
I shouted. He laughed, not answering as he left the room, the lock
clicking behind him.
My heart ached for the home I was yanked away from, for the
pain this was causing my mates, but mostly for me. The heat was
already at full force, he’d purposely waited until the suppressors
wouldn’t really work. Being away from my mates, my protectors,
was physically painful. The ache had settled in my chest, growing
each day I was away from them. It was like I was missing parts of
my soul and the fact that I didn’t know when I’d get back to them
was even worse.
They’re going to come for you.
That thought alone was keeping me from losing it completely,
and once this heat passed, I’ll focus my energy into finding a way
out of here. They’d made my life hell for years, so I was more than
happy to return the favor. Terrorizing my captors was the only logical
choice at this point in my life.
The sedatives kicked in and I passed back out, welcoming the
darkness like an old friend, anything to escape this fresh hell for
even a moment.

Two Days Later

“IT SEEMS YOU GOT LUCKY, the sedatives are letting it pass,” Dr.
Sloane muttered as he stabbed me with another needle, another
dose of blessed escape. At this point, it was the only thing keeping
me from climbing the walls. The boredom and the heartache were
nothing in comparison to the heat symptoms. My body ached, I
couldn’t stop the feverish feeling I got, and without my alphas, I
knew it wouldn’t stop anytime soon
“I cut it down a bit, don’t want to make it too easy on you,” he
added as he backed away.
“Fuck you,” I bit out between clenched teeth. His sadistic glee
filled me with a rage I couldn’t control, and magic burst from my
hands. He looked genuinely startled as it slammed him into the wall
before his expression quickly morphed into that of outrage.
“That little stunt bought you riding the rest of this heat out
without my help. Enjoy your suffering, you little bitch,” he growled
out. If there was one thing Dr. Sloane hated more than women, it
was women more powerful than himself.
It was too late for him to take back this one, so I slipped into the
darkness as he locked the door, taking advantage of my escape
before my true hell began.

Cedric

“WHAT?!” I hissed at Remi as he sat across from me at Kensington

Mental Health Facility. He was here for our weekly check-in. We had
been hired to investigate malpractice at the facility and we’d agreed
I should go undercover since I had more of an even temper than my
business partner, Remi. We were both alphas, but I swear he could
be a hair-trigger and subtlety wasn’t exactly one of his skills.
“Keep your voice even, Cedric,” he reminded me calmly, leaning
back in his chair like we were talking about the weather. “Otherwise
you’ll draw more attention to yourself.”
 I took a deep breath knowing he was right. Bastard. The strong
smell of disinfectant burned my nose making me sneeze. I couldn’t
wait for this job to be over and then never fucking come back to this
place. “Go over that with me one more time. I’m not sure I heard
correctly.”
Remington ran a hand through his dark, curly hair, orange eyes
flashing with anger at the situation. “I was contacted two days ago
about an omega potentially being held here. She was taken against
her will and she had just gone into heat. Have you seen anyone like
that?”
I shook my head slowly. If there had been an omega in heat
nearby I would have felt them. I didn’t even know this omega but
the idea that someone would kidnap one who was at their most
vulnerable… rage didn’t even begin to describe how I felt.
“Her mates are looking for her. One of which is the mayor of
Mystic Harbor.” I froze at that and Remi nodded slowly. “She has
high connections if she is connected to him. He didn’t mention other
names but he did mention there were seven other mates, five of
which were alphas. So they need answers… fast.”
“She has eight mates?” I asked in disbelief. That was a lot of
mates and a lot of alphas sharing an omega.
“Fated mates,” Remi’s voice was soft, hurt hardening his face
before he shook it off. “Keep gathering information on the staff and
while you’re at it, see if you can track her down.”
“What’s her name? And what does she look like?”
“Ella Vance. She has been here a few times before from what I
gathered. Young, early twenties. She is short and has long, blonde
hair, blue eyes. A witch.”
“There are things we don’t know then,” I murmured, my mind
already a million miles away trying to figure things out.
“As usual.” He gave me a cocky grin. “But he didn’t have a lot of
time to fill me in. Any progress on the job you’re here for?”
“Nothing new.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “There was a lockdown
a few days ago. I wonder if that’s the omega we are looking for.”
“Why was there a lockdown?” He leaned forward.
“Something about an attack on the staff and then… fuck.”
 “What? What is it?”
I swallowed hard, looking up at my best friend. “They were put
into isolation. If it was her and she was taken as her heat hit, she
could have fought back… If they put her in an isolation cell, her only
interaction is getting food and maybe a doctor checking in on her.”
He grimaced at my words. “Hopefully they gave her suppressors
for the heat instead of making her ride it out. I’ve heard from some
omegas who didn’t get their meds in time and didn’t get any relief…
It was–it wasn’t pretty.”
“Given what I know of some of the alphas here and that of Dr.
Sloane… I wouldn’t put it past some of them to “help” her through it
without her consent,” I told him softly
“I’m not mentioning that particular bit of information without
proof,” Remi said after a few moments of silence. “Otherwise nothing
will stop them from coming in here and endangering themselves and
every person in here.”
“You would do the same for your mate,” I commented without
thinking.
“True, but mine would kick my ass for even showing up.” He
grinned at me, but there was nothing happy about it, his orange
eyes empty. He hadn’t been the same since his mate rejected him
and who could blame him.
The speaker above us on the wall crackled to life. “Visiting hours
are now over. Please say your goodbyes. Visitors need to come to
the exit so we can escort you to the parking lot.”
We stood up and as Remi embraced me, clapping my back hard,
he whispered in my ear to be careful. I nodded and smiled slightly
as he turned to leave.
“You’re—” I made my tongue trip over my words, falling into
character as Remi turned back to look at me. “You’re c–coming back
next–t week, right?”
“Of course, brother.” He gave me a warm smile and a small wave
as I twisted my hands hard enough they turned white. “Just follow
all the doctor’s directions so you can get home soon. I’m glad they
are helping.”
 “Oh y–yes,” I nodded hard a few times as he turned and hurried
to the group leaving the visiting area.
Slowly, I sat back down, rocking slightly as I thought over
everything that Remi had told me about. Now I was here on a
second job, but I was nowhere near done with the first. How was I
going to find this one omega in this giant place? Hell, they could
even have her here under a different name. I would just need to
keep an eye out for her and get her to trust me. Of course, I’d need
to trust her too because while I might be here by my own choice, I
still was here under a false name. I didn’t need someone to out me
before I was ready.
I hope I find her quickly. Something about her story made my
stomach twist. I know there is more to the story than Remi knows
and I had a gut feeling that whatever I discovered wouldn’t be good.
Every fiber of my being as an alpha screamed at me to help protect
her.
I just had to find her first.
 Ella

T he past week had been the most excruciating thing I’d ever
endured and coming from me that was saying something. My
neck was sore from constant injections, but at least Dr. Sloane’s vile
suggestion never came to pass and despite the awful fevers,
dreams, and emptiness, I had survived.
A loud bang was my only warning before the door opened. A
nurse came in with a towel and a sneer. “You’re alive. Lucky us.
Time for a shower, it’s ripe in here.”
“That happens when you neglect a patient's needs for over a
week,” I deadpanned, standing and following her. She went to say
something but turned away just as fast though I didn’t miss the way
her nose scrunched up in disgust, guess my lovely scent of sweat
and body odor was too overwhelming, and damn if that didn’t have
me laughing internally. But I wasn’t about to push too hard and lose
the right to a shower, I couldn't even stand to be with myself right
now.
She led me to the communal showers and this time I didn’t
bother to even look around, instead stripping down and heading
straight for a shower and welcoming the icy spray. We generally
didn’t get a long enough time to even clean ourselves, the ice-cold
water a way to speed us up, but for once, I took my time.
Channeling Drystan’s snark was one-hundred-percent how I
intended to make it through this stay. Terrorize your tormentors was
my new motto.
“Let’s go!” the nurse barked, but I just glared at her and went
back to showering. I’d barely put shampoo in my hair, she could fuck
off. She continued to shout at me as I rinsed, put in conditioner,
washed my body, then rinsed out my hair again. I was practically
blue when I stepped out, but I finally felt like a person again. “Good
thing you’ve got day room today, they won’t put up with this little
attitude of yours.” Her words were sharp like daggers, but I just
smiled sweetly, dried myself, and changed into a fresh outfit she had
brought me. Essentially patient scrubs, an ugly shade of gray and as
bland as this place was.
“I’m done,” I finally said after leaving my clothes in a pile on the
floor. She eyed them then shrugged, leading me down the hall. She
flashed her badge to an attendant to unlock the dayroom, the door
opening with a loud click. She shoved it open and pushed me inside,
barking out my name to the nurses in charge before locking the door
behind me. I’d have tripped if my indignation hadn’t kept me
upright. This place was literally one abuse after the other. Did they
go out and find the absolute, most vile supernaturals ever and
employ them?
Glancing around the room, I saw old, familiar faces, people not
as lucky as I was to escape. Some were truly dealing with psychosis,
but others looked on with dull eyes and I knew they were like me.
Kept here unjustly. Everything in me wanted this place to be shut
down and I vowed to myself that I’d make it happen. Once my
mates came for me, this would all be over. For everyone.
 “Find a seat, Eleanor!” the nurse yelled. I turned and faced the
vampire and sat right where I was standing. She growled and
narrowed her eyes. “At a table.”
“Oh, apologies,” I said in mock innocence. “Just following orders.”
She started to stand up at my mocking but another nurse said
something that had her sitting again. I had a feeling my behavior
would be reported, but not a single part of me cared.
“You new here?” a gentle voice asked. I glanced over at the timid
alpha, realizing he was, in fact, a new face.
“This time around, I guess. But I practically grew up in this
hellhole,” I offered, sitting next to him. He had a stack of cards in
front of him, doing an intricate solitaire spread. I narrowed my eyes
at the cards, then at him. The shifter was clearly as sane as I was…
so why was he here? This timid, quiet act was exactly that, an act.
Even as he studied me, I could see the fire in his blue eyes.
Even worse was his scent. It was strong as I settled at the table,
swirling around me in a burst of cedar and smoke. It felt as familiar
as Mystic Harbor; a woodsy, homey scent that hit me with a tidal
wave of emotion. I missed my mates so badly that my entire soul
ached for them. And beyond that, I missed home.
“Hey, you okay?” my new, potential ally reached over, his hand
landing on mine. A new fucking mate mark burned on my sternum
and from the way his jaw clenched, he felt it too. His reaction was
too controlled, almost as if he were trained to not give anything
away. He gave a slight shake of his head, taking his hand back, and
I respected that, trying to act normal. My mind was reeling from the
revelation that I had yet another mate. How many could one have?!
But I knew his silent command was smart. I had already had my
other mates taken from me and honestly, if I lost another, even this
new and unexpected one, well… it wasn’t going to end well for me
here. Focusing on his game, I shifted a few cards into place, acting
like we were playing along. “Shit,” he cursed, staring hard at the
table, but his focus was obviously on the room.
“What?” I whispered, barely audible but he heard me.
“They’re watching. Ignore this, okay?” There was pleading in his
tone, but before I could ask what I was supposed to ignore, he
slammed his hand on the table and growled at me, “Don’t. Touch.
My. Game!” Even with his warning it still caught me off guard and I
scooted away, holding up my hands.
“Fine! It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to figure it out,” I said
back, my voice raised enough for the staff to hear. The man growled
at that, blue eyes flashing in a warning that I ignored.
Crossing my arms, I turned and glared out the window and he
went back to fixing his cards again. It was ridiculous how well we’d
done on that one, even the other patients watching us now. More
importantly, as I shifted my gaze to the nurse’s for a split second
then back out the window, I could see them gossiping happily,
meaning they’d expected us to fight and enjoyed every second of it.
They wanted to see me put in my place and they’d gleefully allow
this alpha to tear me apart. Thankfully he wouldn’t, and honestly,
that small performance solidified that I could trust him.
We sat like that for a while, but neither of us separated.
Eventually, we were given reprieve by the snack cart. They rolled it
through the room, passing out the prepackaged snacks. When the
orderly got to me he gave me a familiar smirk and handed over a
bag of peanuts.
“I know these are your favorite,” he said with a laugh before
handing the alpha a bag of crackers that he knew I preferred. The
staff wasn’t stupid or unobservant, they just purposefully kept us
miserable for their own sick enjoyment.
“Fuck you,” I muttered. He paused, but just turned and chuckled,
a mix of promise and twisted glee on his face. I was making
enemies, and fast. Before, that would have terrified me. Now, I
refused to go down without a fight.
“Give me those!” my unexpected mate yelled, snatching the bag
of peanuts. He slammed his hand on the table, hitting the corner of
his snack packaging before throwing it at me with an evil smirk.
“Enjoy.”
“Damn, what did I do to you, asshole?” I grumbled, but gave him
a secret smile before ripping it open, most of the crackers still intact.
We ate in silence before the vampire nurse stood up and practically
sang out my name.
 “Eleanor, Dr. Sloane wants to see you.” I swallowed hard, flashing
a panicked look at my companion. He tensed, gripping the edge of
the table, but didn’t do anything else. Smart. We had to play it cool,
but I would make sure to get a chance to truly speak to him soon.
“I’ll be around, Ella,” he said. The nickname had my eyes
widening and the look in his eyes promised later so I swallowed
down my questions and turned. Before I could leave he said
something else that was barely audible, but I heard it. “You can call
me Malik.”
Malik.
I rolled the name on my tongue as I slowly walked to the exit.
My leisurely approach wasn’t missed given the flash of annoyance
from the vampire as I finally got to the door. The nurse grabbed my
arm tightly, practically dragging me along down the hallway toward
Dr. Sloane’s office.
A hard knock then I was shoved unceremoniously inside, the
door shutting firmly behind me leaving me alone with the doctor. He
was behind his desk, focused on filling out the paperwork in front of
him when he gestured at the open seats across from him, not
bothering to look up.
“Sit. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
I barely managed to bite back my snarky retort. There was a big
difference between fighting back and being just plain dumb. Locked
in a room alone with the alpha who had made my life a living hell
since I was a child? Smarting off would definitely be beyond dumb.
Swallowing my pride, I gingerly sat on the chair that got me the
furthest from him and he didn’t miss it given the dry chuckle he let
loose.
He didn’t do anything else to acknowledge my existence for a
few minutes, my panic and anxiety building by the minute as his pen
scratched away at the paper. It was his full intention and I hated
that I was letting it get to me. Finally, he put the pen down, looking
up at me with a cool gaze.
“You are mighty bold this time around, Eleanor.”
“I’m not the same person this time around,” I told him bluntly.
 “Maybe.” A small smirk tugged at his lips as he sat back,
steepling his fingers in front of his face as he studied me intently.
“But that will make this so much sweeter to break you this time. You
think your heat isolation was bad… You have no idea, my dear, what
I can do to you.”
“I have people who will look for me this time,” I shot back and he
burst into a fit of laughter, the sound sending a shiver down my
spine.
“They’ll never find you in time. No one knows where this place is
unless we want them to.” He wiped at his face as if he had actually
teared up from laughing at me. “This is my kingdom. I rule here.
You need to remember that. I see everything that happens. I hear it
all.” He tapped his closed laptop and the blood drained from my
face. “Crazy but smart it seems. I saw everything you did in the
dayroom. Talking back to the staff that’s just trying to help you.
Setting off another patient so they lash out… This won’t do at all.” I
was relieved that he didn’t catch on to my new mate.
“I’m not just going to sit here and let you drug me up, lock me
away!” I shouted, fighting myself to stay in my seat.
“Haven fought back too. She doesn’t fight anything anymore. I
can assure you… She is one of my favorite patients to visit.”
“What?!” I asked, the breath knocked out of me as I tried to
process what he was telling me. But then in a move that was too
fast to see, I was suddenly pricked with a needle in my arm. Almost
instantly, I started feeling woozy.
“I’ll have to tell your father about your recent behavior. He isn’t
going to be happy about this attitude of yours. Just a few hours of
freedom and it seems you can’t even handle that.” The door behind
me opened but I couldn’t seem to move my body to see who was
there. “Can you take Eleanor back to isolation? It seems she needs
more time to adjust to being in her new home.”
No! No, this isn't home.
It will never be home.
I tried screaming but my body wouldn’t listen. Suddenly a huge
man I’d never seen before picked me up out of the seat,
manhandling me until I was over his shoulder. He carried me out of
the office and down the hallway to my isolation cell. The nurse from
this morning smiled tauntingly at me as she opened the door and
the guy dropped me onto my bed.
“Such a pity the youth today don’t know how to accept help.”
Fuck you.
“You can glare daggers all you want, bitch. But we’re the ones in
charge here. As long as we say you’re crazy, that’s how everyone will
see you,” she warned me. “Best to fall in line or you’ll end up just
like your dear, old mom.”
Haven… Mom?
What did that mean? First Sloane and then the nurse… Was my
mom here? Oh my gods, what have they done to her?
Suddenly escaping wasn’t my top priority. My mom might be
here, my real mom, and I needed to find her. Flashes of Dean and
Brooks crossed my mind. I wish I had had the chance to ask them
more about her but I had been so overwhelmed with my mates, my
new magic, that I never got the chance to breathe and talk to them
about her.
Please, don’t let it be too late.
 Cedric

F atedOfmates.
course we were. The woman I was supposed to help
escape and who already had eight mates back in Mystic Harbor, was
also my fated mate. Nine mates… I couldn’t even wrap my head
around that number. When they called her to see Dr. Sloane, it took
every ounce of self-control to not lash out, the alpha in me wanting
to protect her from the twisted alpha calling her. But I had a job to
do and doing that job would also protect her.
I shook my head trying to stop my wandering thoughts and
dislodge the scent of vanilla and coffee from my brain. The lingering
musky smell of her heat had clung to her skin and gods, she was
perfection. There was a fire in her blue eyes and when I had called
her Ella I could see her intelligence shining through.
 “Malik? It’s time to go back to your room,” a firm voice called out
to me and I forced myself to jump as if startled, my cards spilling all
over the floor.
“My cards! No!” I yelled, dropping down and scrambling to get
them as I muttered angrily about him purposefully doing it.
The vampire nurse approached me slowly and let out an
exasperated sigh before he knelt down and helped me with the
cards. The vampire, Aiden, was the whistleblower who had called in
Remi and I to help shut this place down. He was also our in for
information and my connection with the outside world if something
happened.
“What information do you have about the new girl?” I asked, not
looking up at him as I gathered the cards off the floor.
“Eleanor Vance?” He paused slightly before shaking his head. “In
and out of here since she was a preteen. I only saw her once or
twice before, never worked her chart or anything. But from what I’ve
heard she is one of the patients we don’t ask about. Money buys
silence.”
“Of course it fucking does,” I growled out, the sound barely
audible but I heard him swallow. The beta was an asset but he was
still wary. Smart.
We cleaned up the cards and I dutifully followed him out. As we
walked past the nurse’s station he glanced down at his chart.
“Looks like you have a session,” he told me. I made a show of
letting out an annoyed growl that he chuckled drily at.
“Save it. You know that won’t get you anywhere here,” he bit out,
giving me a slight shove. Only here would a beta dare to do that to
an alpha.
I heard the line of nurses watching the dayroom chuckle before
one of them spoke up. “Wasting your breath, Aiden. They never
fucking learn.”
“You’re right,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head as he
pushed me out of the door. When we got to the hallway he kept the
act up since we passed the long row of dayroom windows. It felt
more like a cage, a display for their possessions, but I kept my
commentary to myself. If I did my job then this place wouldn't be in
use anymore and that would be a blessing to the entire world.
“You’ve got fifteen this time,” he warned me as we entered the
next wing. This wing held the doctor’s personal offices, so it was
riskier than my other searches. There were also a few private rooms,
the more ‘difficult’ patients who didn’t get the luxury of the
dayroom. I had a feeling that Ella would end up in one if we weren’t
careful. It was obvious, even after seeing her only once, that she
was a favorite here. The staff gave her extra grief, and her snark
surprised them, meaning she was different now. My heart had nearly
broke at knowing she’d spent most of her life here, and the fact the
staff put her through it for money alone… It was horrible. I sensed
no insanity in my mate, which meant she had a strength most could
only hope to possess. An average person would have been broken
beyond repair at this point.
Aiden hung near the records room as I stepped further down the
hall. I grabbed my camera pen out of my pocket and snapped
pictures as I went by the rooms. Seeing one patient bound to the
bed, I slipped inside. My heart pounded, knowing how dangerous
this move was, but it was awful. The poor patient was lying flat on
their back, thick leather straps holding down each of their limbs and
their torso. I didn’t recognize who it was and I’d been here for two
months.
Leaning closer I saw the patient's delicate features, long hair, and
the soft swell of breasts under their gown, indicating she was a
female. How long had she been back here? She lifted her neck to
see me, but it looked like there wasn’t much behind her eyes. I
snapped a picture of the bruising along her arms, like she’d been
bound day after day and they’d had to adjust it after a while. She
was riddled with rashes and her hair was matted into knots. My
chest tightened at the pitiful sight, hating the staff even more for
this awful treatment.
As I pushed the door open, voices stopped me in my tracks. The
first one was Sloane’s, meaning Ella’s meeting was over. The second
was one I didn’t recognize, his cadence bored and raspy.
 “She’s different now. No longer submissive. We’ve moved her
back to isolation,” Sloane explained, sounding annoyed. Because
how dare anyone fight back against their abuse, I thought to myself
as I listened through the cracked door.
The second man chuckled darkly. “She found her backbone, just
like her mother did. You see where that got her.”
“Oh, but she’ll be so fun to break.” Sloane laughed coldly, a
shiver running down my spine at the sound. “She’ll lose that fire
quickly, don’t worry about that.”
“And if not, we can add a second bed to this room,” the other
man commented. “I’m not pleased with her last stunt.”
“She told me today they’d come for her,” Sloane warned. “But
they’ll never find us. We will put extra security measures up though
if that will make you feel more comfortable.” He was overly confident
in that and I was living proof of how wrong he was.
“I’m not worried. Let them come. I’ll lock them all away just so
she knows they’re close, but always out of reach. The women in my
family have always been powerful, something I’ve made it my
mission to stop,” he said smugly. “I wield it better than they ever
could.” Sloane chuckled, obviously enjoying the company of this
other twisted alpha.
“Come on, I’ll show you to her room, I’m sure she would love to
see you,” Sloane urged.
“She always has. But I have a feeling she’ll be up here sooner
rather than later,” he said darkly. “I don’t have time for these antics.
I’m a busy man.” Their footsteps receded and I pushed the door
open slowly, peeking after them to make sure the hall was empty.
Even Aiden was out of sight so I hurried to Sloane’s office, grabbing
the charts off of the wall, searching for the chart with the same last
name as Ella. There it is!
Haven Matilda Vance. Medically induced coma.
Oh gods, Ella’s mom?! My mind drifted back to the comment
about ending up like her mother and I knew that everything they
spoke about pertained to Ella, and she was in danger. Our timeline
just moved up and I prayed to the gods that I had enough evidence
to make a difference, because my mission has changed. Ella was
now my top priority, I just hoped I could make it happen before it
was too late.
Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, I rushed back to the
records room to find Aiden. He jumped at the sound of the door
opening but composed himself quickly.
“We have to go. Things have changed,” I said urgently. “Ella is
my mate and they’re planning for her to end up like Haven.” The
recognition in his eyes told me he didn’t need further explanation.
He tensed at the news but gave a panicked nod. “You’ll come with
us, we’ll keep you safe.”
“You fucking better or I’m as good as dead.” He sighed, pulling
his hair in agitation before he took a deep breath and dropped his
hands by his side. “I’ll do the calls. Let’s get you back to your room.
I’ll be by later for meds and vitals and give you an update.” I
nodded, glad he was going to do as I insisted, and get this ball
rolling.
If all went well, I’d have my mate and my freedom within a few
hours.

Hunter

THERE HAD BEEN NO NEWS.

None.
It had been almost a week and we hadn’t heard anything from
Remington. Leif had called a few times but the man hadn’t
answered. Disappointment filled me as I stared at my computer
screen and saw no updates on the alert I had sent out. Ella’s father,
uncle, whatever the hell he was, had disappeared without a trace.
No one had seen his car, him, or Ella at all. Rubbing my face, I
leaned back, trying to calm myself as the door to the station opened.
“Nothing?”
I glanced up at Tanniv and shook my head. He let out a
frustrated sigh and ran a hand over his long hair. The glamour of the
tourist season was long gone and he looked, pun intended, like a
fish out of water. His long black hair was pulled back and clearly
displayed were the gills on the side of his neck he used to breathe
while swimming underwater. A faint hint of scales and blue hue of
skin were easy to see, at least to my shifter gaze, though I knew
they would be more prominent if he wasn’t on land.
His brother hadn’t been up to the house much over the past few
days, which wasn’t that surprising. Asra preferred staying in the
water over being in town. The few weeks Ella had been here was
the longest I had ever seen him in Mystic Harbor.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on everything,” I rumbled softly,
helplessness giving my voice an edge. “But there has been nothing.”
“Leif hasn’t gotten an answer from Remi either,” Tanniv spoke
gently, but a shiver of unease ran down my spine at the coldness in
his eyes. “He should hope that someone else gets to him before my
brother and I. Asra has been… He has been having a hard time with
Ella gone. He needed some time to clear his head.”
“That makes sense.” Nodding at his explanation, I vaguely
wondered if he had read my mind since I had been thinking of his
twin.
“Hunter!” The door slammed open and Spencer stalked into the
room, both Tanniv and I straightening up as my mate approached
us. “Library. Now. The gargoyles have found something.”
“What?!” I stood up quickly, not caring that I knocked my chair
onto the floor.
“I’ll get Asra and meet you there,” Tanniv told us before hurrying
out of the station. I didn’t think of sirens as overly fast but by the
time Spence and I had gotten outside I heard the splash of Tanniv
diving into the harbor to find his brother.
“What did they find?” I asked gruffly.
“Jonah didn’t say on the phone,” he answered curtly. “But he said
to bring everyone, including Dean and Brooks.”
“So it must be something they are pretty confident about,” I
muttered, looking around as I realized Drystan and Leif were walking
towards the library as well.
 “It better be,” a distorted voice commented and I knew it was
Asra before I even glanced in the other direction. The smell of
saltwater clung to him as he wrung out his hair and pulled it back to
match his twin’s. We got to the library at the same time the others
did, with Leif taking the lead up the stairs, not even bothering to say
hello as he entered.
“What have you found?”
The gargoyles were all huddled around the circulation desk in the
lobby of the library, all of them looking up as we filed in. Maddox
was there too, his black wings tucked in tight to his body and his
stone gray skin somehow looked lighter, a gargoyle version of pale.
That, if nothing else, told me the importance of what they were
about to share.
Sterling, the oldest, stood up straight, rolling back his shoulders
as if to brace himself for what they had found. “We did some digging
into Ella since there had been no news or updates. And we found
something… odd.”
“What do you mean odd?” I asked, curious.
Sterling glanced over at me, his silver eyes bright behind his
black framed glasses. “It doesn’t have anything to do directly with
Ella, but it might. Dean, what was Haven’s middle name?”
Dean looked taken aback but Brooks answered for him. “Matilda.”
Sterling squeezed his eyes together before pinching his nose.
“There is no death certificate for her. We searched every database
we could get a hold of.”
“We found something else while we were looking though,” Jonah
continued for his brother, looking between him, Maddox, and the
rest of us. “If you don’t ask too many questions… I found that she
had been admitted into a few mental hospitals in her youth.”
“Just like Ella,” Reed muttered before biting his lip.
“Her brother, Joseph Vance, obtained guardianship of her and
then she disappeared. No driver’s license, bank accounts, nothing.”
“Do I want to know how—” I started but Jonah shot me a too
innocent grin.
“I said not too many questions.”
“But if Haven disappeared…” Sterling started.
 “What if she was at the same place Ella was at?” Maddox finally
spoke up, his deep voice low enough I could feel it rattle my bones.
“Then I don’t care if you are my daughter’s mates,” Dean said.
“I’m going to rip him limb from limb until I find out where Haven is
and I’ll do the same to any of you who get in my way.” No one said
anything in protest as Dean hurried over to look at whatever the
gargoyles had found.
Asra cleared his throat loudly and crossed his arms. “Not that I’m
not glad for this information, but what does that give us?”
“A name.” Sterling stepped forward and held out a piece of paper
to the alpha. “Kensington Mental Health Facility. We are researching,
trying to find more information about the place but that is more than
we had even hours ago.” Asra grabbed the paper but Sterling didn’t
let go. “I am the head of this family and Ella is family. Anything you
need, for her, just ask.”
Asra nodded slowly as Sterling let go of the paper, Leif inclining
his head in acknowledgement as well before Sterling turned back to
start talking with Dean. It was comforting to know that they cared
about our mate as much as we did, Sterling’s offer a clear claim to
our girl as part of his family and what that means.
Kensington Mental Health Facility.
Remington or no, we were going to get our mate back. Selfishly,
I just hoped we got her back before my uniform made her flinch
away from me again. As if Spencer could read my thoughts, he
wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned into me.
Please let her be okay.
 Ella

I tDays.
was impossible to tell how long I’d been in isolation. Hours.
There were no windows, only the padded walls, a mattress
on the floor, a toilet, and a sink. The room was small enough I
couldn’t even properly pace. So instead, I sat on my bed and spaced
out, letting my own stories carry me away. I wished I had my
journal… anything to keep me busy.
The door slammed open, hitting the wall with a thud and
breaking me out of my daydreaming. It was so loud I nearly jumped
out of my skin.
My heart stopped at the sight of my kidnapper. My former
father’s thin lips curled into a cruel smile and I let my true feelings
show clearly on my face.
 The door closed behind him and he walked to the corner of the
room, leaning back and crossing his arms as he studied me. I didn’t
say a word, I’d leave the bullshit to him.
“What? You thought I wouldn't intervene with you acting out?”
he asked, chuckling quietly. “After all I’ve done for you.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Done for me? You’ve locked me away
and bound my magic.” His eyes light up at the mention of that.
“That was a fun one to find out on my own.”
“Oh, it’s not only bound, Ella.” He laughed once more before
pulling a necklace out from under his shirt, showcasing two vials
attached to a long chain. One was brighter than the other, airy. His
smile was full of sadistic glee as he watched them. Something
moved inside of them, almost like a glittering plume of smoke. “It’s
mine. You can find every mate you have and it will never break this
binding.”
“Why?” I asked in a tired voice, the news not even surprising me.
I was just too exhausted to care, tired of fighting for my freedom,
for the right to just live my life. Now I just wanted the truth for
once.
“Because I deserve it,” he said simply. “Your life will amount to
nothing, your magic going to waste. Only someone with power and
influence like me will make the proper use of it.”
“It’s not yours to take,” I growled with a spark of defiance. “I’ll
get it back.”
He never lost his grin, instead, he pushed off the wall to go to
the door, giving it a quick rap of his knuckles. “Come, Eleanor.” The
command in his voice was hard to ignore and I wasn’t going to push
my luck. Compliance would get me answers and for now, I’d play his
game. Plus if it got me out of this tiny cell, then I was willing.
He didn’t speak as an orderly opened the door. With only a
simple glance back to ensure I was following, he turned and headed
down the hallway. At first, I thought he was taking me to Dr.
Sloane’s office, but he guided me right by it. With each step we took
beyond that, dread started to pool in my stomach and claw at my
throat. My footsteps faltered but I refused to let them stop.
Whatever he was about to do, to show me, whatever this was… it
wasn’t going to end well for me.
“Come.” The order was barked loud enough it echoed off the
walls. I startled, rushing forward on instinct then kicking myself for
it. Compliance may be necessary but the last thing I wanted was for
it to be this enthusiastic. Submission was off the table.
All thoughts of defiance fell away as he pushed open a door,
revealing a hospital room setup inside. My eyes widened at the
methodical beep of the heart monitor and IV stands. This wasn’t a
hospital. Sure, we had an infirmary if someone got hurt, sick, or had
a bad reaction to meds, but nothing like this.
Then my gaze fell on her face. She had aged since the photo I’d
seen of her, but the resemblance was unmistakable. My mother
wasn’t dead. She was here. This entire time she was within reach.
Yet something wasn’t right.
“You don’t know who this is and that makes it so much sweeter.”
He laughed cruelly, fear crawling down my spine at the sound. “Her
name is Haven. She was beautiful if a bit touched in the head, like
you I’m afraid. But in the end, she was useful.”
“How can you talk about your sister like that? My mother?” I
asked, unable to hold my tongue. Even as I spoke, I couldn’t tear
my eyes from her prone form.
He looked over at me, his gaze calculating as he studied me. “So
you do know Haven… Hmm, I was wrong… This is still thrilling
knowing that you know she’s your mother.”
“Why is she here? Why is she asleep?”
“She’s not sleeping. She’s in a coma,” he said proudly, walking
around me to stop next to the IV stand, and tapping it lovingly.
“Though now she might be too weak to wake up.” With that he
pulled out a small rune stone, then the necklace off of his neck. He
popped the cork from the vial before pressing the rune to Haven’s
forehead. It glowed, a thin line of smoke absorbing into the stone
before it went out again. He tapped it to the top of the vial and it
added to the smoke inside, this one far more opaque than the other.
“You put her in a coma so you could take her magic? What the
fuck is wrong with you, you sick fucking bastard?!” I screeched, my
voice shaking and high-pitched. Rushing to her side, I rested a hand
on her skin, it was cool and clammy, and there wasn’t a single
reaction to my touch.
His look turned from amused to feral at my insubordination,
rushing forward and slamming me onto Haven, not a care for either
of our well-being. His hand tightened around my throat as he leaned
in so close his breath fanned over my face and I had to fight not to
gag at the stench emanating from him.
“Don’t for a fucking second think that you get to speak to me
that way. You’re not in charge here, I am. And there’s not a damn
thing you can do to stop it,” he promised, voice icy and measured.
“They will come for me,” I said, my filter gone now. He wasn’t
scaring me, if anything, he was pissing me off. “My mates will come
rescue me.”
“Let them. I can find a room for them too,” he said before
tightening his fist to the point I couldn’t breathe or talk back. My
fingernails dug into his hand as I tried to pry it away. This time my
magic lashed out, electricity sparking fiercely, encompassing his
hand. It felt like nothing more than a tingle for me, but he gasped,
jumping back and clutching his hand. With him off of me, I jumped
up and ran to the back corner of the room, pushing my back against
it and trying to force my magic to stay at the ready. If he was going
to kill me, I was going to put up a fight.
“I’m not the same. You can’t push me around anymore,” I said
with more confidence than I felt.
“It seems your powers have grown,” he commented almost
absently as he rubbed his wrist. The vial of smoke that must be
some of my magic glowed brightly. He nodded and shrugged,
walking over to the machine beeping beside her. Stopping in front of
the IV, he clicked a few buttons before tapping a finger on her arm. I
watched as her skin was slowly enveloped in a green glow, but a few
seconds later her eyes opened wide. She didn’t try to speak but her
breathing became rapid, eyes glancing around wildly. The heart
monitor sped up as her gaze landed on her brother.
“Don’t look at me, look at her,” he told her, pointing me out.
Instinctively, I stepped forward, my heart shattering but wanting to
give her a dash of hope.
“Mom?” I asked, barely holding back a sob as I glanced at the
one person I needed growing up, the one he stole from me.
The monitor increased again and her expressive eyes focused on
me, and a single tear escaped as she stared at me. She didn’t speak,
but the glimmer of horror and hope were intertwining and I knew
that she was a fighter.
“That’s enough of that,” he announced, tapping the buttons
again, no doubt releasing the sedative again. She struggled against
it, her eyes blinking hard as she refused to look away.
“I’ll save you,” I promised, feeling it in my very soul. How could I
leave now that I knew she was here? She was just as important as
my mates and the idea of her spending my entire life in this room, in
a coma, was too much to process.
“Aw, now wasn’t that touching?” he mocked. My magic sparked
to the surface but he didn’t even flinch away. “I wouldn’t do that if I
were you. Do you really think that she didn’t fight? You’re more alike
than you’ll ever get the chance to know. And this is my one and only
warning to you. Keep up that mouth of yours, and she’ll get a new
roommate.”
Unable to look away, I held my mom’s sorrowful gaze until the
sedatives won, forcing her back into darkness. Everything in me
wanted to lash out at my uncle, but I knew that I couldn’t. Not here,
not now.
Suddenly my uncle was standing in front of me, startling me
enough that I stumbled back. As my back hit the wall, he brought up
the rune stone and necklace. He must have opened the vial that
represented my magic when I wasn’t looking and with a quick tap to
my forehead, I suddenly felt woozy, empty. Billows of smoke poured
out of me, pouring into the bottle and my uncle’s face lit with wicked
glee, bright with anticipation as I felt my power draining from me.
Quickly he put the lid on the vial and mockingly patted my face.
“It’s good to see you again, daughter. With this new well of power,
I’ll have to visit you often.”
He took my power. Most of it. I could feel a faint whisper in my
veins but it was nothing compared to what had started to become
my new normal. I felt almost hollow now, empty.
The icy reality of it slithered down my spine, settling in my
bones. I didn’t speak again, nodding slowly. My only choice now was
to be silent, compliant, and bide my time. My mates would come for
me, and we’d take her with us too. And I had at least one ally on the
inside, someone I could confide in and make a plan with. Either way,
my uncle was wrong about one thing. I would get to know her, save
her from this never-ending hell, even if it was the last thing I did.

IT HAD BEEN a few days since my uncle’s visit and the empty
feeling hadn’t gone away. I didn’t realize how used I had gotten to
that well of power inside of me until it was missing. Swallowing
hard, I didn't fight or argue with the nurse as she harassed me
through a quick shower, and then I was out the door and heading
towards the sunroom.
As I walked, I forced myself not to snark at the nurses as they
made comments about my absence or that they were glad I had
finally learned my place. Did my mother have to go through this
before her brother stole her magic from her? How much did she
fight before they put her in that coma? I bit my lip as I sat down in
one of the chairs, looking out one of the windows yet seeing nothing
outside. Flashes of my mates filled my mind, grounding me even
though we weren’t together. Tanniv’s patient and laid-back smile as
he told me stories on the dock. Asra’s possessive kiss on the beach
when we were mated. Spencer and Hunter sharing their pasts with
me as Hunter held me close in his arms. Maddox’s shyness and
Reed’s infectious smile. Drystan’s sweet side that he saved just for
me and the feel of Leif against me when we finally mated. They
were all part of my safe haven and I wanted to be home with every
fiber of my being. I wanted to be with them. But there were two
people here I couldn’t just walk away from. Malik and Haven.
As if my thoughts had summoned him, Malik stumbled into the
sunroom, the sun highlighting his mussed red hair as he mumbled
and played with his deck of cards. I made sure to not pay too much
attention to him, not wanting the nurses to note it and hold it
against him. A few minutes later I sensed someone sitting down in a
chair near mine but I kept my gaze trained outside not knowing who
it was. The soft shuffle of cards signaled who it was along with a
whisper of smoke and cedar. I pushed back relieved tears as I
looked slowly over to stare at Malik, my new mate, as he started
spreading the cards out on a TV tray.
“You’ve been gone for days.” His voice was soft but I didn’t miss
the hint of concern.
I hummed, not commenting on what had happened. Too many
ears around that could overhear.
“A nurse is going to collect you for your afternoon therapy,” he
continued carefully after a few minutes of strained silence between
us. “Aiden. Don’t fight him. I’ll see you then.”
“We don’t—” My brow furrowed and he cursed loudly, knocking
cards off his tray.
“Remember that name. Aiden. I’ll see you then.”
We didn’t speak again. Malik kept messing with his cards,
occasionally having an outburst and sending cards flying off the tray.
As for myself, I took comfort in his presence and stared out the
window, trying to think of what I could do to help my mom, to save
her from this hellhole, and thought of my mates in Mystic Harbor,
desperately hoping I would see them soon.
The free time flew by and when I was tapped on the shoulder to
leave, a new face greeted me. It was a nurse I had never seen
before, a beta vampire with dark burgundy eyes and the hint of
fangs flashing as he smiled at me. Something behind his expression
was kind and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.
“Time for therapy, Eleanor.” He pulled me up from my chair, his
grip lighter than most nurses here. I didn’t respond, letting him drag
me out of the sunroom and down the hallway. The vampire dropped
his hold as soon as we were out of sight of the other nurses, though
he stayed close by me as we continued to walk.
“Are you Aiden?” I whispered and out of the corner of my eye
Aiden nodded jerkily, clearly nervous about something.
 “No talking until we get where we are going,” he growled, though
there was no menace in it. “Through here.”
He pushed me through a doorway and inside was a laundry room
and Malik stood there. He wasn’t in patient scrubs anymore though,
instead, he was in green nurse scrubs.
“Ella,” he greeted me, relief lighting up his face. Walking over to
me he grabbed my hands as he looked me over then glanced up at
Aiden. “Are we ready?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“What is going on?” I asked, looking between the two of them,
feeling like I was missing something important.
“We’re leaving,” Malik insisted, an alpha command clear in his
voice.
“No,” I argued, trying to pull my hands out of his. Aiden stilled at
my answer. “My mom is here—”
“That’s exactly why we need to get you out of here.”
Indignation filled me at his words. “I don't know who the fuck
you think you are—”
“I’m your fucking mate.”
“Oh shit,” Aiden muttered, backing away until he was as far from
us as he could get. “You two mated?!”
“Not so loud,” Malik and I warned him at the same time before
glaring at each other again.
“You are one of my mates,” I informed him. “But I’m not leaving
my mom in this place. She has been here for gods know how long,
Malik.”
“Cedric.”
“What?” I pulled my head back slightly, confused with what was
happening.
“My first name is Cedric. I went by my middle name for this…
job.”
“One thing at a time.” I waved my hands around, not willing to
be sidetracked though my mind was whirling. “My mom. If she isn’t
coming, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Ella,” Aiden spoke up as Malik, Cedric, opened his mouth to
respond. “I saw your mom’s chart. We don’t have the resources to
safely move her. If we attempted to get her out of here right now
then she probably wouldn’t make it to Mystic Harbor. We need the
equipment and another set of doctors to wean her off the drugs and
things they have put into her body for years.”
Tears fell down my cheek and a large hand wiped them away.
“Ella. You have my word we will come back for her. I promise. But
your mom wouldn’t want you to stay here in this place being
mistreated. That won’t help her get released. We’ll have more luck
on the outside.”
“Who are you?” I croaked out, trying to not completely break
down.
“I’m a private investigator and I’ve been here undercover to
gather evidence of what’s going on in this place to close it down,” he
told me gently, yet firmly. He placed a finger under my chin to force
me to look up at him. “Your mates from Mystic Harbor contacted my
partner and told us about you being taken. I was already here doing
my job and I said I’d help you get out. That’s today.”
“Today?” My mind was whirling trying to keep up with our back
and forth conversation. There were so many revelations and bombs
being dropped that I wasn’t sure I comprehended everything.
“Right now.” My mate let go of me and turned for a set of small
green scrubs. “You need to change and then we are climbing into
the basket of laundry. Aiden is going to wheel it out and then he is
driving us out of here. My partner is meeting us down the road to
give us some distance from this place. I took pictures of your mom’s
file and all her information.” That caught me off guard, he really had
done his research.
“Why did you have to be another alpha?” I joked, trying to
lighten the mood as I snagged the clothes from him.
“How many alphas are there?” Amusement sparked in his bright,
blue eyes.
My modesty was completely gone after being here so I started
undressing in front of him. Aiden let out a garbled sound of surprise
and he turned, facing the wall while he asked me to please hurry. I
had on a sports bra under my shirt today and high cut underwear,
nothing sexy but Cedric’s gaze showed he clearly was a fan of what
he saw though he paled, lips parting in shock when he saw my
massive mate marking on my sternum. All the phases of the moon,
including a sun and full moon in the middle. Nine mates. Nine.
“Six.”
“What?” he said, blinking a few times.
“Alphas,” I clarified as I slipped into the green pants. “Six alphas,
including you. Two betas and another omega. Just so you know
what you’re getting into.”
“We need to get going,” Aiden spoke up. “Can I turn around
now?”
“Yes.” I smiled at the blushing vampire. “One more thing.” I
swallowed hard. “My uncle… he stole my magic. That’s the reason
my mom is here and what he has been doing to her and I for years.
He siphons it from both of us and uses it for himself. He did it to me
days ago, that’s why you haven’t seen me. I don’t… I still don’t feel
right.”
A growl rumbled deep in Cedric’s chest and his blue eyes flashed
brightly as he gathered my clothes. “They are lucky we are leaving
now. We will figure this out when we get to Mystic Harbor.”
Another random document with
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 This called forth loud protests from Abd er Rahman, who declared
that it was quite impossible for him to work in such heat on such a
meagre supply.
I endeavoured to pacify him by pointing out that I was not asking
him to do anything I was not prepared to do myself, and that, as a
Sudani, he belonged to a race that prided themselves on being able
to endure the hardships to be encountered in a desert journey. But
he only got more excited, saying that he and Ibrahim did more work
than I did, as they had to load and unload the camels and walked all
day, while I occasionally rode. Dahab, he added, was of no use in
the desert, as he was only a cook, and I could do without him, and,
as we were short of water, we had better get rid of him. At the end he
was fairly shouting at me with rage, and, as he was not in a state to
listen to arguments, I walked away from the camp into the desert to
give him time to cool down.
A Sudani at heart is a savage, and if a savage thinks he is
deprived of the necessaries of life he is very apt to fall back upon
primitive methods, and is quite capable of “getting rid” of anyone who
stands between him and his water supply. Visions of the ghastly
scenes that took place among the survivors of the shipwrecked
“Medusa” and “Mignonette,” when they ran short of water, and of the
terrible fate that overtook the survivors of the disastrous Flatters
expedition, during their retreat to Algeria from the central Sahara,
came up before my eyes, and, as I saw Abd er Rahman and Ibrahim
earnestly consulting together, I felt the situation was not one to be
trifled with.
I went back to the camp fully expecting to have to deal with
something like a mutiny. I called Abd er Rahman up and told him he
was never to speak to me again like that, and if he did I should fine
him heavily. I said that we should find plenty of water in the depot at
Jebel el Bayed and there was no need at all for any anxiety, but that,
owing to the leakage from the tanks, we should have to be careful till
we got there. I told him that I should help to load and unload the
baggage, and would walk all day to show that the allowance of water
was sufficient. As to Dahab, I pointed out that he had worked with
him for two seasons in the desert, and that it was very treacherous
for him to turn round and want to “get rid” of him directly there was a
slight deficiency in the water supply.
Much to my surprise, I found him extremely penitent. He said I
could drink all his water supply and Ibrahim’s as well if I wanted it; of
course he could put up with a small water supply better than I could,
he was very strong; and as for Dahab he was an excellent fellow and
a friend of his; he had only been angry because he was thirsty. I told
him that it was very easy for him to talk, but that I should like to see
how much there was at the back of what he said, so I challenged him
to see if he could do on less water than I could. A sporting offer of
this sort generally appeals to a Sudani or an Arab. He accepted my
challenge with a grin.
Ibrahim afterwards apologised for his brother, saying that he had
been behaving like a woman.
The sealing-wax I had put on the leaks effectually closed them;
but towards noon the increasing heat melted the wax and soon they
were leaking as badly as ever; the other tanks, that had held out up
to that point, also opened their seams in the heat, and, by the end of
the day, every single tank that I had was dripping its precious
contents on to the ground. Only the small ones that I had made for
the depots remained waterproof.
As the sealing-wax proved ineffectual, I scraped it off in the
evening, and, since the leaks were all in the seams of the tanks, I
plugged them with some gutta-percha tooth stopping that I had
fortunately brought with me, wedging it into the seams where they
leaked with the blade of a knife. This was apparently unaffected by
the heat, and, though it was liable to be loosened by rough usage,
was a great improvement on the wax. But the leaks were plugged
too late. During the two days while they were open, one tank had
become almost entirely empty, and the others had all lost a
considerable portion of their contents. Fortunately I had allowed an
ample supply of water, most of which was in the depot at Jebel el
Bayed, so with the small tanks to fall back on in case of need, we
could count on being able to get out about twelve days instead of the
fifteen I had arranged for, which I expected would more than take us
to Owanat.
We continued our march, leaving a small depot behind us at each
camp till we reached the main store. This I found had not been
made, as I intended it should be, at the foot of Jebel el Bayed, but a
good half-day’s journey to its north.
I was greatly relieved to see that the depot appeared to be quite in
order; but Abd er Rahman was evidently suspicious, for leaving the
unloading of the camels to Ibrahim and Dahab, he went off to the
depot and began peering about and searching the neighbourhood for
tracks.
Almost at once he returned with a very long face, announcing that
a lot of water had been thrown away. I hurried up to the depot, and
he pointed out two large patches of sand thickly crusted on the
surface, showing that a very large amount of water had been spilt.
We examined the depot itself. The sacks of grain were quite
untouched, but every one of the large iron tanks was practically
empty, with the exception of one which was about half full. The little
tanks intended for the small depots did not appear to have been
tampered with, perhaps because they would have required some
time to empty.
The neighbourhood of the place where the water had been
poured was covered with the great square footprints made by
Qway’s leather sandals, and made it quite clear that it was he who
had emptied the tanks. There was no trace of the more rounded
sandals worn by Abdulla on that side of the depot.
We followed Qway’s footprints for a short distance. About two
hundred yards away from the depot they joined on to Abdulla’s, the
small neat marks of Qway’s camel overlaying the bigger prints of
Abdulla’s hagin—showing clearly that Qway had been the last to
leave. I then returned with Abd er Rahman to the camp to decide
what was best to be done.
The heavy leakage from the tanks we had brought with us,
coupled with the large amount of water thrown away by Qway, made
it abundantly clear that all chance of carrying out the scheme for
which I had been working for two seasons, of getting across the
desert to the Sudan, or of even getting as far as Owanat, was
completely out of the question. It was a nasty jar, but it was of no use
wasting time in grousing about it.
Our own position gave cause for some anxiety. So far as I and the
men with me were concerned we were, of course, in no danger at all.
Mut, with its water supply, could easily have been reached in about a
week—it was only about one hundred and fifty miles away—and we
had sufficient water with us and in the depots to take us back there.
As for Qway, I felt he was quite capable of looking after himself,
and I did not feel much inclined to bother about him. The difficulty
was Abdulla. From his tracks it was clear that he had no hand in
emptying the tanks, and I very much doubted whether he knew
anything at all about it. Abd er Rahman’s explanation of what had
occurred was, I felt sure, the correct one. His view was that Abdulla,
though “very strong in the meat, was rather feeble in the head,” and
that Qway had managed to get rid of him on some excuse and had
stayed behind to empty the tanks, which he had then put back in
their places, hoping perhaps that we should not notice that anything
was wrong.
Abdulla, counting on me to bring him out water and provisions,
had gone off for a six days’ journey, relying on meeting us at the end
of that time. After going as far as he could to the south, he was to cut
across on to Qway’s track and then to ride back along it to meet us.
The man had served me well, and in any case I did not feel at all
inclined to leave him to die of thirst, as he certainly would, if we did
not go out to meet him. Obviously, we should have to follow up
Qway’s track to relieve him—a course which also held out the
alluring prospect of being able to get hold of Qway himself.
But our water was insufficient to enable the whole caravan to go
on together, and it was urgently necessary to send back to Dakhla
for a further supply. The difficulty was to know whom to send. There
was always the risk that Qway might wheel round on us and try to
get at our line of depots; and unfortunately he carried a Martini-Henri
rifle I had lent him. My first idea was to go back with Dahab myself,
as I could have found my way back to Mut without much difficulty,
using my compass if necessary—the road was an easy one to follow
—and to let the two Sudanese go on to relieve their fellow-
tribesman, Abdulla; but this scheme seemed to be rather throwing
the worst of the work on them—besides I wanted to go ahead in
order to make the survey.
Abd er Rahman, of course, could have found his way back quite
easily; but, though he carried a Martini-Henri carbine, he was a vile
shot, even at close range, as he funked the kick; moreover, he stood
in such awe of Qway that I was afraid, if they met, he would come off
second best in the event of a row, even with Dahab to back him up.
Ibrahim, however, cared no more for Qway than he did for an afrit
that threw clods, or for anyone else. With his flint-lock gun—bent
straight by Abdulla—he was a very fair shot; but he was young and
had had little experience of desert travelling, and I was very doubtful
whether he would be able to find his way. When I questioned him on
the subject, however, after a little hesitation and a long consultation
with Abd er Rahman, he declared his willingness to try, and his
brother said he thought he would be able to do it.
The next morning he set out with Dahab and the two worst
camels, carrying all the empty tanks. His instructions were to get
back as fast as possible to Mut, refill the tanks, and come out again
as quickly as he could with a larger caravan, if he could raise one,
and to beg, borrow or steal all the tanks and water-skins he could get
hold of in the oasis, and to bring them all back filled with water. I
gave him a note to the police officer, telling him what had happened
and asking him to help him in any way he could. I gave him my
second revolver and Dahab my gun, in case they should fall foul of
Qway on the way, and then packed them off, though with
considerable misgivings as to the result.
It was curious to see how the discovery that our tanks in the depot
had been emptied, in spite of the difficulties that it created, cheered
up the men. The feeling of suspense was over. We knew pretty well
what we were up against, and everyone, I think, felt braced up by the
crisis. Dahab looked a bit serious, but Ibrahim, with a gun over his
shoulder, and suddenly promoted to the important post of guide to a
caravan, even though it consisted of only two camels and an old
Berberine cook, was in the highest spirits. I had impressed on him
that the safety of his brother, his tribesman Abdulla and myself,
rested entirely on his brawny shoulders, and that he had the chance
of a lifetime of earning the much-coveted reputation among the
bedawin of being a gada (sportsman)—and a gada Ibrahim meant to
be, or die. I had no doubt at all of his intention of seeing the thing
through, if he possibly could. I only hoped that he would not lose his
way.
Having seen him off from the depot on the way back to Mut, I
turned camel driver and, with the remainder of the camels and all the
water we could carry, set out with Abd er Rahman to follow up
Qway’s tracks to relieve Abdulla. Abd er Rahman, too, rose to the
occasion and started off gaily singing in excellent spirits. I had told
him that I wanted to see whether he or Qway was the better man in
the desert, and the little Sudani had quite made up his mind that he
was going to come out top-dog.
 CHAPTER XVIII

A BD ER RAHMAN was an excellent tracker.

There had been no wind to speak of since Qway had left the
depot, and the footprints on the sandy soil were as sharp and distinct
as when they were first made. By following Qway’s tracks we were
able to piece together the history of his journey with no uncertainty;
and a very interesting job it proved.
We followed his footprints for three days, and there was mighty
little that he did in that time that was not revealed by his tracks—Abd
er Rahman even pointed out one place where Qway had spat on the
ground while riding on his camel!
We could see where he had walked and led his mount, and where
he had mounted again and ridden. We could see where he walked
her and where he trotted; where he had curled himself up on the
ground beside her and slept at night, and all along his track, at
intervals, were the places where he had stopped to pray—the prints
of his open hands where he bowed to the ground, and even the mark
where he had pressed his forehead on the sand in prostration, were
clearly visibly. The Moslem prayers are said at stated hours, and
Qway was always extremely regular in his devotions. This prayerful
habit of his was of the greatest assistance to us, as it told us the time
at which he had passed each point.
Walking on foot he had led his camel behind him, when he left the
depot, till he reached Abdulla’s trail. He had then mounted and gone
forward at a slow shuffling trot. Abdulla also had left the depot on
foot, leading his hagin, and the tracks of Qway’s camel occasionally
crossed his spoor and overlaid them, showing that Abdulla and his
hagin were in front.
 Abdulla had continued at a walk until Qway overtook him—as
shown by his tracks overlying those of Qway. Knowing the pace at
which Qway must have trotted and at which Abdulla would have
walked, by noting the time it took us to walk from the depot to where
Qway caught Abdulla up, we were able to estimate that Qway could
not have left the depot until Abdulla was nearly a mile and a half
away, and consequently too far off to see what he was doing.
After Qway joined on to Abdulla, the two men had ridden on
together till they reached Jebel el Bayed. Here, however, they had
halted and evidently consulted together for some time before
separating, as the ground all over a small area at this point was
closely trampled. On separating, Abdulla had gone off at a trot, as
arranged, towards the south, while Qway had sauntered leisurely
along towards the second hill, two days’ away to the south-west, or
Jebel Abdulla as the men had named it.
We concluded from Qway’s tracks, as dated by his praying
places, that he must be rather more than a long day’s journey ahead
of us.
We continued following his trail until the sun began to set, when,
as we did not want to overlook any tracks in the dark, we halted for
the night. We had got by that time into rather broken ground, cut up
into ridges and hills about twenty feet high, at the foot of one of
which we camped.
In spite of Abd er Rahman’s scandalised protests, I insisted on
doing my share of the work in the caravan. I helped him to unload
the camels, then, while he was feeding the beasts, I lit the fire and
made the tea.
Abd er Rahman returned and made bread, and I opened a small
tin of jam, which we shared together. Abd er Rahman then made
some coffee, and very well he did it; and after eating some dates I
produced a cigarette-case and we sat and smoked over the fire. The
result of this informal treatment on my part being that Abd er
Rahman became more communicative.
 His views were those of a typical bedawi. He disapproved highly
of the way in which Qway had behaved. If we had been a caravan of
fellahin, he said, it would not have been so bad, but for a guide to
behave in that way to us who knew the nijem was, he considered,
the last word in treachery. To “know the nijem” (stars) by which the
Arabs steer at night means to have a knowledge of desert craft, an
accomplishment that forms perhaps the strongest possible
recommendation to the true bedawin.
He told me that when the mamur had had them all round to the
merkaz, and it came to be Qway’s turn to be questioned—the very
man of whom I had complained—directly he heard his name, he told
him he need give him no further details, as he knew all about him,
and that he was to be trusted to do his duty; but he apparently
omitted to specify what that duty was—the mamur was a nationalist.
When I asked if he felt afraid to go on with me after Qway, he
laughed, saying that he was quite as clever as he was in the desert,
having lived there nearly the whole of his life and had often travelled
long distances alone. So long as he had enough water he did not
care how far he went, provided I did not want to take him to the
Bedayat. He even volunteered to go with me to within sight of their
country, in order that I might be able to fix its position, provided he
did not see any tracks of theirs before getting there. He was highly
elated at having found Qway out, and very full of confidence in his
own abilities.
He then began to tell me some of his experiences. Once he had
been out in the desert with a single camel, when it had broken down
a long way from water. He had tied the camel up, slung a gurba on
his back, and, leaving his beast behind him, walked into the Nile
Valley. He arrived with his gurba empty and half dead from thirst, but
managed to crawl up to a watercourse, where he drank such an
enormous amount that he immediately vomited it all up again. He
managed to borrow another camel, with which he had taken water
out to the one he had abandoned in the desert. The latter was
almost dead on his arrival; but after drinking and resting for a day,
had been able to get back to safety.
 When Arabs are running short of water, but their camels are still
able to travel, he said, they throw all their baggage down in the
desert, where no one but the worst of haramin (robbers) would touch
it, put all their water on to the camels and travel all through the night
and cool part of the day, resting in the shade, if there be any, during
the hot hours, and resuming their march as soon as it gets cool
again in the evening. In this way, occasionally riding their beasts to
rest, they can cover forty miles a day quite easily for several
consecutive days.
I asked whether he had ever heard of a man, when in difficulties,
cutting open his camel to drink the water from his stomach,
according to the little tales of my childhood’s days. This caused Abd
er Rahman considerable amusement. He pointed out that if a
caravan were in great straits from thirst, there would not be any
water in the stomachs of the camels. But he said he had heard of
several cases where a man, reduced to the last extremity, had killed
his camel, cut him open and got at the half-digested food in his
interior and had wrung the gastric juices out of it and drank them.
This fluid, he said, was so indescribably nasty, as to be hardly
drinkable, but, though it made a man feel still more thirsty, it enabled
him to last about another day without water.
While sitting over the fire with Abd er Rahman I heard a faint
sound from the west that sounded like a stone being kicked in the
distance. Abd er Rahman, who was, I believe, slightly deaf, was
unable to hear anything. I put my ear to the ground and listened for
some time, and at last heard the sound again, but apparently from a
greater distance than before.
Leaving Abd er Rahman in charge of the camels and taking my
rifle, I went off to see if anything was to be seen. The moon was too
faint and low at the time for any tracks to be visible. The whole
desert was bathed in a faint and ghostly light that made it impossible
to see any distance; so after watching for some time, and hearing no
further sounds, I returned and lay down for the night about a hundred
yards from Abd er Rahman and his camels.
 It is curious how easily, in the absolute calm of a desert night, the
slightest sound is audible, and how quickly one wakes at the faintest
unusual noise. About midnight I started up. The distant sound of a
trotting camel approaching the camp was clearly audible, and the
camel was being ridden very fast. By that time the moon was high in
the heavens, making the surrounding desert visible for a
considerable distance, and presently I saw a solitary rider come
round the shoulder of the ridge near which we were camped,
sending his camel along at a furious pace.
Instantly I heard Abd er Rahman’s sharp, threatening challenge
and saw him slinging his carbine forward in readiness for an attack.
The answer came back in a hoarse exhausted voice and was
apparently satisfactory, for the camel man rode into the camp, his
camel fell down on his knees, and the man got—or rather fell—off on
to the ground.
I sang out to Abd er Rahman to ask who it was. He called back
that it was Abdulla and, after bending for a few moments over his
prostrate form, came running across to where I lay. Abdulla and his
hagin were, he said, extremely exhausted; but he had told him that
there was no danger and that we could do nothing before daylight
and had begun a long statement about Qway having turned back, in
the middle of which he had fallen asleep. I went over to the camp to
look at him. His long attenuated form was stretched out along the
ground, almost where he had dismounted, plunged in the deepest of
slumbers; so, as I saw no object in disturbing him, and wanted him to
be as fresh as possible on the morrow, I went back to my bed and
followed his example, leaving Abd er Rahman to keep watch, till he
woke me to take my turn at keeping guard later in the night.
Abdulla, on the following morning, looked hollow-eyed, and, if
possible, thinner about the face than ever; but beyond having
obviously had a severe fright, he seemed to be little worse for his
ride; the Sudanese have wonderful recuperative powers. His hagin,
however, was terribly tucked up, and he had evidently had to ride
him extremely hard; but he was a fine beast, and otherwise did not
seem to have suffered much from his exertions, for he was making a
most hearty breakfast.
 Abdulla’s nerves, however, seemed to have been very badly
shaken. He spoke in a wild incoherent way, very different from his
usual slow, rather drawling, speech. He rambled so much in his
account of what had happened, and introduced so many abusive
epithets directed at Qway, that at times it was rather difficult to follow
him, and Abd er Rahman had to help me out occasionally by
explaining his meaning.
Qway, in the depot, had dawdled so over his preparations for
leaving the camp that Abdulla, with his eye probably on the
bakhshish I had promised him, had become impatient at the delay.
At the last moment, just before he was ready to start, Qway calmly
sat down, lighted a fire and began to make tea. Abdulla expostulated
at this delay, but Qway assured him that there was no immediate
hurry, told him that as soon as he had finished his tea and filled his
gurba, he would start, and suggested that he had better go on before
him and that he would follow and catch him up.
After he had gone some distance, Abdulla looked back and saw
Qway hauling the tanks about, which struck him at the time as a
rather unnecessary performance; but as Qway explained, when he
overtook him, that he had only been rearranging the depot and
placing the sacks of barley so as more effectually to shade the tanks,
his suspicions had been lulled. Just before they separated, Qway
had told him that he intended to get out as far as he could, so as to
earn a very big bakhshish, and he hoped to go three and a half days
more before he turned back. He advised Abdulla to do the same.
For most of the first day after leaving Qway, Abdulla kept turning
things very slowly over in his “feeble head,” and, towards the end of
the second day, it began to occur to him that Qway’s long delay in
the depot was rather suspicious; so before proceeding any farther
along his route, he thought it advisable to ride across and have a
look at the old track he had made himself on his previous journey, to
make sure that Qway was keeping to his share of the arrangement,
by following it towards Jebel Abdulla.
On reaching his track he saw no sign of Qway having passed that
way, so becoming seriously uneasy, he rode back along it hoping to
meet him. At a distance of only about a day from Jebel el Bayed he
found the place where Qway had turned back, which as he had told
him he intended to go for another two and a half days farther,
convinced him that something was very seriously wrong. He then
apparently became panic-stricken and came tearing back along his
tracks to make sure that we were coming out to meet him and that
the depot had not been interfered with.
Qway, he said, had returned along his tracks for some distance,
until he had got within sight of Jebel el Bayed, when he had turned
off towards the western side of the hill, apparently with the object of
avoiding the caravan, which according to the arrangement, he knew
would be following Abdulla’s track on its eastern side.
It struck me that as Qway’s track lay to the west of our camp, the
sounds I had heard during the preceding evening from that direction
had probably been caused by him as he rode past us in the dark, so
I sent Abd er Rahman off to see if he could find anything, while
Abdulla and I packed up and loaded the camels.
Abd er Rahman returned in great glee to announce that I had
been right in my conjecture, and that he had found Qway’s track; so
we started out to follow it. To the west of the camp was a ridge of
ground that lay between our position and Qway’s footprints, and this
may perhaps have prevented my seeing him, and certainly would
have made it impossible for him to see either us or our fire.
Qway had passed us at a considerable distance, for it took us
twenty-one minutes to reach his trail, which shows the extraordinary
way in which even the slightest sounds carry in the desert on a still
night.
As we followed his track we discussed the position. It was clear
that, as Qway, when he left the depot, only had five days’ water in
the two small tanks I had given him, he would be forced before long
to renew his supply from our tanks, as he had already been three
days away from the depot.
Abd er Rahman, instead of making our depot at Jebel el Bayed,
as I had told him to do, on account of it being such a conspicuous
landmark, had, fortunately as it turned out, made it about half a day
to the north of the hill, in the middle of a very flat desert with no
landmark of any kind in the neighbourhood. When the tanks and
grain sacks composing the depot were all piled up they made a heap
only about three feet high and, as the sacks, which had been laid on
the top of the tanks to keep off the sun, were almost the colour of
their sandy surroundings, our little store of water and grain was quite
invisible, except at a very short distance to anyone not blessed with
perfect sight, and Qway was rather deficient in this respect. He
would consequently experience very great difficulty in finding that
depot, unless he struck our tracks.
 SKETCH PLAN OF TRACK ROUND JEBEL EL
BAYED.

As we continued to follow his footprints, it became clear that this

was what he was aiming at, for his route, that at first had been
running nearly due north, gradually circled round Jebel el Bayed till it
ran almost towards the east, evidently with the intention of cutting
the tracks that we had made the day before. His trail went steadily
on, circling round the great black hill behind us without a single halt
to break the monotony of the journey.
We had been following his spoor for about three hours and a half
when we reached the point where his trail met and crossed the one
that we had made ourselves and, as Qway had not hesitated for a
moment, it was clear that in the uncertain moonlight he had passed it
unnoticed.
As we continued to follow his tracks, presently it became evident
that he had been considerably perplexed. Several times he had
halted to look round him from the top of some slight rise in the
ground, and had then ridden on again in the same easterly direction
and repeated the process.
Abd er Rahman, on seeing these tracks, was beside himself with
delight. He slapped his thigh and burst out laughing, exclaiming that
Qway was lost, and “Praise be to Allah” had only got five days’ water
supply. Abdulla, if anything, seemed even more pleased.
After a time Qway apparently concluded that he would wait till
daylight before proceeding any farther, for we found the place where
he had lain down to sleep. That he had started off again before dawn
was clear from the fact that he had not prayed where he slept, but
nearly an hour’s journey farther on.
We followed him for a little farther, but as the afternoon was then
far spent, I thought it best to return to the depot for the night, in case
Qway should get there before us.
Frequently when out in the desert I had occasion to send Qway,
or one of the men away from the caravan, to climb a hill to see if
anything was to be seen from the summit, to scout ahead of the
caravan, or for some other purpose, and as there was always a risk
that the absentee might not get back to the caravan by dark I had a
standing arrangement that if anyone got lost from this cause I would
send up a rocket half an hour after sunset, and a second one a
quarter of an hour later, to enable him to find the camp. These two
rockets were accordingly fired from the depot and, moreover, as it
was an absolutely windless night, a candle was lighted and left
burning on the top of a pile of stones to attract his attention in the
dark, if he were anywhere in the neighbourhood. I hoped by this
means to induce him to come in and give himself up, in preference to
risking a possible death by thirst—but he never materialised.
 In the morning we set out again to follow his track. I could not
exactly leave him to die of thirst, if he had really got lost, and I also
wanted to know what he was doing. As the camels were getting into
a very poor condition, owing to the hard work they had had and the
short water allowance I had put them on, we left all the baggage in
the depot, and took them along with us, carrying only sufficient water
for our own use during the day.
We picked up Qway’s trail where we had left it and, after following
it for some distance, found where he had reached the old faint
footprints left by Abdulla on his first journey, when he had ridden out
alone to Jebel Abdulla. They had clearly puzzled him extremely. He
dismounted and stood for some time examining the track and
scanning the surrounding desert, as was clear from the number of
footprints he had left at the place and the number of directions in
which they pointed.
After a considerable amount of hesitation, he again set off in the
same easterly direction he had been previously following, probably
still hoping to find the tracks of the caravan that he had crossed in
the moonlight without seeing.
I wanted Abdulla to get on his hagin and follow his tracks at a trot,
hoping that in that level country, as Qway was only travelling at a
walk, he would be able to overtake him sufficiently to sight him from
a distance. But he had not recovered his nerve from the fright he had
experienced and flatly refused to leave us, so we continued to follow
the tracks together.
After riding for some distance farther, Qway had again climbed to
the crest of a low ridge. Here he had stood for some time, his
footprints pointing in all directions, endeavouring to pick up the
bearings of the depot and the route that he had followed when he
had left it.
But that bit of desert might have been especially made for the
purpose of confusing an erring guide. As far as could be seen in all
directions stretched a practically level expanse of sandy soil,
showing no landmark to guide him, except where the great black
bulk of Jebel el Bayed heaved itself up from the monotonous
surface. We could tell from his tracks that he had reached that point
not much before midday, when, at that time of the year, the sun was
almost directly overhead, and consequently of little use to indicate
the points of the compass. From where he had stood, Jebel el Bayed
itself would have been of little use to guide him, for though the hill
had two summits lying roughly east and west of each other, the
western one was from that point hidden by the eastern, which was of
such a rounded form that it looked almost exactly the same shape
from all angles on its eastern side.
Qway at last had evidently given up the problem. He had
remounted his camel, ridden round a circle a hundred yards or so in
diameter in a final attempt to pick up his bearings, and then had
made off at a sharp trot towards the north. Abd er Rahman was in
ecstasies.
“Qway’s lost. Qway’s lost.” He turned grinning delightedly to me. “I
told you I was a better guide than Qway.” Then he suddenly grew
solemn. Much as he hated the overbearing Arab, he had worked with
him for two seasons, and, as he had said, there is a bond of union
between those who “know the nijem.” “He will die. It is certain he will
die. He only had five days’ water, and it is four days since he left the
depot. He is not going where the water is, but he is making for the
‘Valley of the Rat.’ It is certain he will die of thirst. His camel has had
no water for four days.”
Abdulla took a more hard-hearted view, and after the way in which
Qway had treated him, he could hardly be blamed. “Let the cursed
Arab die,” said the Sudani. “The son of a dog is only a traitor.”
We followed Qway’s footprints for a short distance. But he had
been travelling very fast, and it was obvious that we should never
catch him up. He was off on a non-stop run to Mut, and as our own
water supply was by no means too plentiful, I thought we had better
follow his example; so I told Abdulla to take us back to the depot. It
was then about noon.
Abdulla looked at Jebel el Bayed, glanced at the sun and looked
round the horizon, scratched his cheek in perplexity, and said he did
not know where the depot was, but he thought it must be there—he
pointed somewhere towards the north-west. Abd er Rahman,
however, was emphatic in saying that that was not the right direction,
and indicated a point about west as being its position.
After some discussion, as they were unable to agree, Abd er
Rahman turned to me and asked me to look at my compass to
decide the direction in which we were to go. Unfortunately, I had left
the compass in camp and had not been making a traverse of Qway’s
tracks, as I had done on the previous day. We had all been too keen
on reading Qway’s spoor to pay much attention to the changes in its
direction, and so found ourselves in the same dilemma as Qway.
It was a furiously hot still day, and the sun shining almost
perpendicularly down made the whole horizon dance with mirage,
producing the impression that we were standing on a low sand bank
in a vast sheet of water, whose distant shores flickered continuously
in the heat haze—a veritable “devil’s sea” as the natives call it.
I had only the vaguest idea as to where the depot lay, but as I had
to decide in which direction to go, I told them I felt quite certain that it
stood west north-west—about half-way between the two bearings
pointed out by the men. It was a mere guess, based on the
assumption that they were neither of them very far wrong, but that
their errors lay on either side of the true direction. As luck would
have it, I was much nearer right than either of the others, a fact that
greatly increased their respect for my knowledge of the nijem!
After marching for a couple of hours or so, Abd er Rahman
peered for a moment into the distance and announced that he saw
the depot ahead of us. Neither Abdulla nor I could see anything.
After some difficulty, however, I managed to identify the object to
which Abd er Rahman was pointing, but all I could make out was an
indistinct and shapeless blur, dancing and continually changing its
shape in the mirage. Abd er Rahman, however, was most positive
that it was the goal for which we were making, and, as I knew his
extraordinary powers for identifying objects in similar circumstances,
we made towards it and found that he had been correct.
We rested in the depot until sunset. Just before starting, it struck
us that possibly we might pass Ibrahim and Dahab on the road. The
arrangement I had made with them was that, if they failed to see us
before reaching the depot, they were to leave as much water there
as they could and return at once to Mut. But I wanted to arrange
some means by which they should know where we had gone in the
event of their reaching the depot. A letter was the obvious method,
but Dahab was the only man in the caravan who could read or write,
and I was doubtful whether he would come out again, as I had told
him not to do so if he got at all knocked up on the journey back to
Mut. Ibrahim, of course, was wholly illiterate, like the other two
Sudanese, so it was difficult to see how I could communicate with
him, if he came out alone. Abd er Rahman, however, was quite equal
to the emergency. He told me that he would write Ibrahim a “letter”
that he would understand, and, taking a stick scratched his wasm
(tribe mark) deeply into the soil, and then drew a line from it in the
direction of Dakhla, the “letter” when finished being as follows: ,
the mark being his wasm. This letter, Abd er Rahman said,
meant, “I, belonging to the tribe who use this wasm, have gone in the
direction of the line I have drawn from it.” This important
communication having been completed, we set out on our return
journey.