Claiming the Forest: The Pact Warden Trilogy, #1

By Dina Walburg

For as long as I can remember - which isn't that long -  I've been using my powers for good as a supernatural problem-solver. But strange things start happening when I'm sent to the Stewart Pack's territory for a quick extermination job.

 

Life isn't always easy for a kinetic mage on her own in Harbor City. Throw in a missing past, mysterious employer, and addiction to made-for-TV movies, and you've got a recipe for loneliness. Luckily, Hela knows how to express herself through the artistic medium of kicking butt, which keeps her busy enough to not dwell on it.

 

But when she's given exclusive access to shifter territory in order to round up a rogue dryad, she stumbles into a bigger problem: Malek Stewart, the gorgeous but confusing alpha whose sudden devotion to her threatens the entire life she's built for herself. 

 

When secrets start to unravel, and true natures start to reveal themselves, Hela's going to need all the allies she can get. But first, she'll have to learn to let herself have what she wants. How hard could that be, right?

 

CLAIMING THE FOREST is the first book in The Pact Warden Trilogy, a fated mates paranormal romance series. This completed series is ready to sweep you away into a world of urban fantasy, magical powers, and long-lost secrets just waiting to be discovered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dina Walburg Inc
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201946975

Book preview

Chapter One

Across the couch where I had abandoned it, my phone started ringing its infernal song. There was only one person who ever called me, and I felt no guilt in continuing to flip through channels to find something good to watch before finally reaching over and answering. Hey, D.

Hela. We have another job for you.

It was Divinity. I didn’t know her last name, and I didn't need to. Back when we first met and she hired me, I was only given the one name, and enough time had passed that I would have felt weird asking. 

It didn’t really matter, though. Divinity was my handler from the agency and sent me a steady supply of jobs – all under the table, of course. As far back as I could remember, I had only been good at one thing: getting in and out of sticky situations. So the assignments hunting down rogue supernatural beasts and creatures suited me well, and I was grateful that a friend had recommended it to me.

Unfortunately, it meant that I was kind of at Divinity’s beck and call for these sorts of jobs. In exchange, I received fat paychecks and a sense of purpose. Or something close to it, at least.

Already? I just got back from Winston last night, I said, splayed out on the worn leather couch in my living room. My feet were still sore from all the running around. I’m due for some downtime, eventually.

You can say no, Divinity said, her tone making it clear that no, I didn’t really have a choice. But it’s close to you and won’t take long. We have a rogue dryad contract in Davenfield.

I brushed my long hair back over the arm of the couch, thinking. Davenfield, I repeated. There was a glass of red wine on the coffee table, and I reached a hand out towards it, compelling the drink to slide forward to meet my grasp. That’s shifter territory. I won’t be welcome there.

Divinity had made it clear, back in the days when she gave me a crash course on supernaturals, that people like me weren’t much liked around here. Shifters, with their strict rules and laws and opinions, especially had problems with those of us who were magically inclined.

Their request included some details, Divinity said. I could hear papers being shuffled around on the other end of the line as I sipped from my glass. The pack’s forest has become overgrown due to the intruder, so they’re not able to get inside and track it by normal means. They asked for a magic user specifically. You’re the only one on the active list in this area.

I already knew that little detail, but I didn’t say so. It wasn’t like I had any real demands on my time, and I didn’t want to stop receiving assignments altogether if I complained too much. It was tempting to turn this one down, though. I was still pretty tired, and had already hit my quota for the month. Helping a bunch of surly shifters with their tree problem seemed like unnecessary trouble that would only keep me from my couch, my snacks, and all the cheesy romance movies I had saved up on my PVR.

On the other hand… what was the likelihood of ever getting an easier invitation into shifter territory? I didn’t know much about them, really, as my crash course was pretty brief on anything aside from how to kill and avoid getting killed. Sure, I’d hunted down a few varieties of shifters on the job, but only ones that were out of control. I’d never normally interacted or spoken with them. I was curious, damn it.

Alright, fine, I said after keeping Divinity in suspense for as long as I could muster. I’ll do it.

Good, she replied. Did she have to sound so confident that I was going to agree? It irked me, as it always did. That’s all I have for you. I’ll email over the brief and pick you up in an hour.

The line went dead. Thanks so much, Hela, I said into the beeping receiver. You’re so dependable. I really don’t know what I’d do without you. Thanks for answering my calls around the clock and having no social life. You sure are great.

Whatever. I didn’t need praise. I hung up my end of the call and sighed, putting the phone and my now-empty glass on the coffee table. The table was in rough shape and rocked a little, even under the light load.

Goodbye, relaxing weekend, I thought. Back to the grindstone.

I liked to make a fuss, but I didn’t care mind that much. I’d been working for the agency for a few years now, taking care of supernatural scuffles for their clients. Sure, it was a little weird that I didn’t know the name of my employer, beyond my handler. They always paid me in cash, and even the briefing documents I received via email only had a string of numbers along the top instead of the name of a business. It was obscure and weird, but that made it the perfect job for me.

It was how I could afford my rented house, lacklustre as it was, instead of the damp basement apartment I had before. I lived in an average neighbourhood with normal neighbours who I didn’t talk to, and who probably thought I was a stripper or something because of my weird hours and habit of rolling home exhausted in the wee hours of the morning. My life might have looked small and modest, but it was an accomplishment for me to even be here.

I sat up on the couch. Didn’t want to waste too much time thinking. It always led me to gloomy places.

Heading to my bedroom, I pulled my comfy oversized sweatshirt over my head and searched for something more suitable for work. I ended up with the same thing as always: jeans, a plain t-shirt, and some big kick-ass boots. Maybe a bit stereotypical, sure, but it got the job done, and I didn’t even get blisters anymore. You never knew what to expect on an assignment, and mobility was key.

Stopping in front of the mirror, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, considered it, then let it fall down again. I had actually taken the time to curl it this morning, because I was supposed to have the entire day with nothing else to do. Nobody would see it on my day off, but that didn’t matter. It was freshly dyed pink – I had bought an enchantment for it at the supermarket, as I had neither the patience for real dye nor the ability to do fun cosmetic magic myself.

Well, at least somebody might appreciate my efforts today, I thought, stepping away to find my jacket.

I didn’t have a lot of friends here in Harbor City. Or, well, any. My only real friend was Bennie, a green witch who used to work for the agency, too, and hooked me up with Divinity in the first place. I had been working as a server at a diner downtown when we met. I was on my way to getting fired again when Bennie stepped in, having noticed the way I used a little magic to carry the plates around without spilling them.

There was no way I could have survived a day in that tedious job without my magic, anyway. And I knew my abilities and limits. Just because other people might not have been in control enough to use it in a public setting didn’t mean that everyone should have assumed I couldn’t handle it.

Anyway, I was really grateful to her for getting me out of customer service and into… customer disservice.

Bad joke, Hela, I thought to myself. 

Bennie had since retired from the business and moved out to the countryside a few hours away. I was happy for her, but sad for me, as that had been the first time I finally had someone to rely on in the city.

Oh, and it didn’t help that she totally went off the grid when she retired. No cell phone, no internet, nothing. I had to write her actual physical letters, or else drive all the way out to see her. Given that I didn’t have a car, that meant we had mostly lost touch.

So, like many people, my job had kind of become my life. I looked forward to the rare assignments where I got paired with other agents, though they didn’t happen often. And most of them didn’t seem to appreciate my sense of humour. But I was good at the ass-kicking part of the job, so I got no complaints.

I found my jacket draped over a chair at my kitchen table. There wasn’t much about the house that I had changed since moving in, as it came totally furnished and tasteful-adjacent, if worn out. Those kitchen chairs were ugly, though. I kept meaning to replace them, but could never find the energy to buy something different. It felt hard to truly settle in.

My leather jacket, which I pulled on in a practiced movement, was my secret weapon. It was the oldest thing I owned, and not only did it make me look pretty cool when wearing it (or at least, that’s how I interpreted the client feedback Divinity had passed on to me, calling me a scary mage), but it also held a bunch of my work tools. You wouldn’t have expected it from how light it was. 

Passing by the couch, I heard my phone ping with the email brief. I picked it up to give it a quick read.

Case Number: #108461

Client: Malek Stewart, Stewart Pack (Werewolves), Davenfield

Objective: Extract and contain one dryad for intake. 

Notes: Stewart Pack requests assistance with a dryad that has settled in their territory’s forest. Has damaged local infrastructure with root expansion, and three (3) casualties so far. Requests magic user, as normal tracking methods unsuccessful.

It wasn’t a lot of information, but it was enough to pique my interest.

You couldn’t fault me for my ignorance about certain things like shifter culture. At least, that was my constant excuse for being clueless. I was missing a solid decade of memories, from about age eleven to my early twenties. It’s possible that I actually did a lot of meaningful studying during those years, and knew more than I thought I did. Not that it did me any good now. And I didn’t exactly want to spend my exhausted downtime taking classes or reading books.

Whatever had happened to me back then, I had woken up on the edge of the woods outside the city with a pretty nasty head injury and a suspiciously sizeable sum of money in a bag. I didn’t like to dwell on the unknown too much, and ignored the obvious guess that I was just some sort of extremely hazard-prone bank robber. 

At least I could remember bits and pieces about my childhood. Something deep inside me, though, told me there was nothing left of the places and people I remembered.

With no clues or leads to go on, I had decided that it didn’t matter what happened in the past. I could start a new life for myself. I survived.

I was pretty damn good at surviving.

There was a knock at the door. I hadn’t realized how much time had already passed since the call. Out front, Divinity was waiting, prompt as always.

She always looked so professional. I didn’t know what kind of place the agency was or where their office was located, but every time she showed up to escort me in a sharp suit with a skirt and heels. I appreciated her style and imagined her coming from a human family with a lot of money. It wasn’t impossible. She didn’t disclose much, anyway.

You look lovely, I said.

Thanks, but don’t try to butter me up, she replied flatly, not looking at me as she looked through the briefcase she had over her shoulder. You’re still in trouble after the show you put on the other week. You know the rules.

Right. Too many big displays of magic, and people might start to notice me and ask questions. That would be bad. No worries. I’ll keep this one under the radar.

Not buying it, but sure, she said, finding what she was looking for. She handed me a folder with a contract and pen on top.

You guys are very bureaucratic, I remarked as I signed the document. It was the same old standard fare. They weren’t liable for anything that happened to me, my family couldn’t sue them if I died, and so on. Not that there was anybody to do the suing, in my case. As always, there was no business name at the top. Just a string of numbers.

Organization is critical to success, Divinity replied. It sounded like a catch phrase. "I’ll take you