Grave Threat: Grant Wolves, #3

By Lori Drake

Mind control is a terrible thing to waste.

 

Joey and Chris are finally settling into something remotely resembling normal in their new hometown. It's great, aside from being in separate packs.

 

But when Joey's Alpha is kidnapped, it's all wolves on deck, and what begins as a ride to the rescue devolves into the road trip from hell. The situation only gets worse when Chris, too, is taken. 

 

Now Joey is left seeking allies in unfamiliar territory while the captives fight for their free will as well as their freedom. Can Joey reclaim her loved ones before they're lost to her forever?

 

Grave Threat is the action-packed third installment of the gripping Grant Wolves series. If you like strong women, powerful magic, high stakes, and underdog tales, this is the book for you!

 

Click or tap buy to claim your copy today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clockwork Cactus Press
• Release date: Jun 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781955545075

Book preview

1

Five, six, seven, eight…

Joey’s childhood dance instructor had once told her that one day she’d get to the point where she didn’t need to count, that the music would tell her what to do. That had never happened. The counts were always in her head, had been ticking away in the back of her mind through every turn, every glide, every lift for the last four hours.

One, two, three, four…

The best thing about being in rehearsal was the way the rest of the world fell away. It was just her, Chris, and the dance. The way it had always been. The way it was supposed to be.

It’d been nearly six weeks since their world had been turned upside down again, and things were finally starting to settle into something that felt normal. Well, sort of normal. They lived in different houses and belonged to different packs, but they were back in the studio. There was something to be said for that, and when they were in the studio, nothing else mattered. Nothing but the dance.

The music ended, and with it the parade of numbers through Joey’s brain. She looked in the mirror, studying their lines. She was bent back, way back, over Chris’s arm in a graceful arch with one leg extended. His eyes were on her rather than the mirror, and he had a big smile on his face that hardly conveyed the drama of the pose.

You’re not supposed to be grinning, she said, eyes still glued to the mirror.

Sorry. His mouth twitched as he attempted to school his expression into something else and failed.

Joey lifted her head to look up at him, all set to deliver her best lecture about perfect practice equaling perfect performance, but his smile was infectious. She drew herself upright and rested her hands on his arms as they curled around her.

Okay, she said. I’ll bite. Why are you smiling?

Because I’m happy. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers. And I like it when you bite.

Joey’s face heated, and her already fast-beating heart kicked it up a notch. You’re not supposed to be happy here, she chided, but couldn’t keep the smile from her face. You’re supposed to be serious. This is a serious place.

Chris chuckled. I can be both.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then lifted her off the ground, hands at her waist. She laughed and slid her hands from his arms to his shoulders, though it wasn’t necessary to hold herself up. He had more than enough strength to keep her aloft, but a lifetime of concessions for the sake of appearances made the action automatic.

Put me down, she said.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he complied, lowering her until her chest pressed against his. Rolling her eyes, she curled her arms around his neck and glanced at the clock on the wall.

Again? he asked, nuzzling her neck.

He may have been asking about the routine, but the way his lips brushed her skin made her crave another sort of dance. I think that’s enough for the day.

We’ve still got five minutes. That’s enough time for one more run-through.

I know, but it’s not like we’ve got a deadline looming. I should hit the shower and get on the road. You know what traffic is like going out of town this time of day.

Chris’s breath blew across her neck as he breathed a resigned sigh. Can’t keep the Alpha waiting, eh? He started across the room toward their duffel bags with her still dangling from his neck.

You’ve got an appointment too, you know.

Yeah, I know.

He lifted his head, and Joey threaded her fingers through his short hair. The look in his eyes made her heart constrict, and she hated that she’d pricked his happy bubble. Maybe her research went better this week?

She would’ve called if she’d had a breakthrough. It’s just going to be more of the same. Floundering in the dark, trying to figure out how to keep from falling out of my body again. He set her down, but she kept her arms around his neck.

You’ll figure it out. Have faith, baby. I do. She gave him her most encouraging smile, then kissed him.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss, but his arms tightened around her again and it spiraled into something else. Something deeper, more meaningful. When their lips eventually parted, he was smiling again.

You sure you want to rush off? he asked. I can think of a great way to use those last five minutes.

Four minutes, now.

I can be quick.

Joey laughed. Not that quick.

Fair enough. His lips brushed hers again. Come over tonight?

The invitation hardly required deliberation, but she feigned it to tease him. Mmmm, okay.

She loosened her hold on his shoulders, and he let her slip away this time. Stooping, she collected her water bottle and duffel, then headed for the door.

Joey?

She glanced over her shoulder. Hm?

Tell Mom I said hi.

Joey paused with a hand on the door. Sure. You know, I’m sure she’d like it if you called and told her yourself.

Maybe. He raked his fingers through his hair, blew out a breath, and bent to collect his stuff.

She’s going to want to know if you’re coming to dinner tomorrow.

Yeah. He stilled, as if reconsidering his automatic response, then nodded. Yeah.

Okay, see you later. Joey’s eyes lingered on him. Things had been different between Chris and her mother since he took over the Granite Falls pack. Strained. Maybe it was time she said something to him before it got any worse, but now was not that time.

She slipped out of the room and let the door swish closed behind her.

Chris parked on the street in front of the small house in Wallingford. It was an eclectic neighborhood on the north side of town, full of cottages and bungalows, a haven for artists, philosophers, and others who didn’t quite fit in with the typical suburban ilk. Witches, for one. He knew of three on this block alone.

The scent of freshly turned earth and fertilizer tickled his sensitive nose as he picked his way up the flagstone path, the former reminding him—rather unpleasantly—of crawling out of his grave. He pushed the macabre memory aside and looked around, finding that the flower beds were being prepared for spring planting. It seemed early. Spring may have been right around the corner, but winter wasn’t quite done with Seattle yet. They’d had a freeze a few nights prior, and even with the temperature in the low fifties now, a blustery northern wind tugged at Chris’s jacket. He held it in place with his hands tucked in his pockets until he was close enough to ring the bell.

This is such a waste of time.

The thought drifted through his mind, unbidden. Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair and fought down the frustration welling inside him. He’d gotten this far. He wasn’t turning back now.

The door opened, and Chris blinked in surprise. Hey, Dean, I wasn’t expecting you to still be here. The medium had shown up in Seattle a few days after the eventful night that had left Chris with a pack of his own and more lingering problems than he cared to admit. The medium was willing to help with a few of them, for a price. Chris was still waiting on a return from that particular investment.

Dean gave him an easy smile and held open the door. We got a bit caught up in it today. Come on in.

Is that a good thing? Chris asked, stepping across the threshold.

Maybe, Dean said, but his grin gave the game away. Maybe it wouldn’t be a wasted trip after all.

Chris shed his jacket on the way to the kitchen, grateful for the warmth in the house. He’d probably be sweating by the time he left, but for now, the heat was welcome.

Tell me you have good news, Chris said, dropping his coat over the back of a chair.

It’s good to see you too, child. How was your day? Cathy asked, looking up from her work. Her lips quirked in a smile that smoothed some of the wrinkles around her mouth while creating others.

Come on, Cat. Don’t tease him, Dean said.

Did you do it? Did you figure it out? Chris leaned forward, fingers curling over the back of the chair in front of him. There were books stacked on the table, which wasn’t unusual, but in the center of the table was a peculiar array of crystals with glowing lines of power connecting them. At the center was a medallion, a simple copper disc with a hole in the center, a flower pattern etched around its edges.

Mmmm. Maybe, Cathy said.

No matter what Dean called her, she’d always be Aunt Cathy to Chris. His mother’s best friend, Joey’s godmother, and—he’d more recently learned—a powerful witch. Cathy had barely settled into retirement from leading the San Diego coven when her loyalties had been put to the test. She’d come to Chris and his family’s aid, but had to sever all ties with her coven first. The consequence? Exile.

Chris owed her his life, twice over. For that, he swallowed his impatience and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

Mischief glinted in Cathy’s eyes that belied her aged face, but she relented. We had a bit of a breakthrough.

Dean snorted a laugh. I’ll say. She finally cracked it. Or maybe she just cracked.

Chris reached for the medallion, but Cathy tsked at him, and he froze.

Don’t rush me, she said. I’m not done yet.

Chris sheepishly retracted his hand and rocked back on his heels. Sorry.

Cathy inclined her head, then waved her hand over the stones. She pinched her fingers together, and the lines of power retracted like strings at the hand of a puppetmaster, pulled toward the center until they converged on the medallion. The now-glowing disc levitated off the table and began to rotate slowly. A few seconds later, the glow winked out and the medallion dropped into Cathy’s open palm.

Wow, Chris said. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that.

At least you can see it, Dean said, on a wistful note. Being a medium didn’t make him a witch. His role in this was letting Cathy examine his spelled tattoo and telling her what little he knew about how it warded him against possession—by ghosts, anyway. The man that’d inked it, a friend of Dean’s mentor, had died years ago and taken his knowledge with him to the grave.

Chris glanced at Dean and smiled. Hey, you can see spirits… that’s one up on me.

Cathy sat back in her chair with a sigh. Fatigue etched extra lines in her forehead. It is done.

Well, almost done, Dean said. We still need to test it.

Can I see it? Chris asked, and Cathy passed the medallion to him. He turned it over in his fingers. It was so small, barely an inch in diameter. It’s tiny. Are you sure this little thing will stop a ghost from possessing someone?

Hmph. Cathy straightened in her chair. It’s not the size that counts.

Dean laughed, while Chris tried to figure out if that was a joke or if he’d just offended the most powerful witch in the region.

Well, Chris said, trying for a graceful recovery, I guess a bodysuit is kind of impractical. Do you think Roger would be willing to help us test it?

Maybe, Dean said. I think he likes knowing he could take any of you over whenever he wants, even if he’s promised not to do it. But he was mopey this morning, so maybe it’ll cheer him up.

Mopey? Chris asked.

Dean shrugged. You know how he is. Our very own bipolar bear.

Chris did know how Roger was. The ghost had been hanging around the house for weeks, swinging back and forth between despair and fury over his inability to find—and kill—Eric, the Granite Falls pack’s former Alpha. Truth be told, Chris thought he understood Roger’s mood swings better than most did. When he was outside of his body, his emotions were much stronger, more capricious. Dean said emotion drove spirits to act. Roger was only held in check by a promise—and the fact that they had his ashes in a safe. Even if he possessed someone, he couldn’t get his ashes out. Controlling their bodies wouldn’t give him the access code. It was a brilliant idea, but Chris couldn’t take credit for it. That one was all Joey.

Chris tucked the medallion in his pants pocket. Talk to him, please. If this works, I’m going to need more of these. Enough for both packs, and maybe a few spares, just in case.

Don’t put the cart before the horse, child. Cathy pushed to her feet and leaned against the edge of the heavy wooden table. If it works, I can make more. But it will take time.

Right, of course, Chris said quickly. Sorry. You know I really appreciate this, right? He walked around the table to give her a hug, then urged her to sit back down.

Well, I know you two have some more work to do, so I’ll get out of your hair, Dean said, also moving around to Cathy’s side of the table. He bent down and kissed her cheek. Get some rest, Cat. You done good.

Cathy closed her eyes briefly and chuckled. Well, child. I done well.

Dean grinned, like that was exactly what he expected, then headed for the back door. His leather jacket hung from a row of pegs beside the door.

See you at the house, Chris said.

Dean nodded and opened the door. A gust of wind blew into the house, stirring the pages of the open books on the table and raising goosebumps on Chris’s bare arms. Even after Dean shut the door, Chris could hear the wind whistling through the small house’s eaves. He hoped it didn’t take the roof off his own home.

Shall we get down to business, then? Cathy asked.

Chris glanced at her, concern nibbling at the edges of his awareness. Are you sure you’re up for it? You look like that spell took a lot out of you.

It did, she admitted, grimacing. But I did find something for you this week. Fetch me that book, would you?

Chris leaned across the table to reach for the stack she pointed at. This one?

She nodded, and he collected the book for her. Its battered leather cover bore no tittle, and the edges of its pages were yellowed with age. He opened it before handing it over and found the pages covered with slanted handwriting in narrow, even rows. The script was illegible to him, either written in a language he didn’t understand or in a manner he couldn’t quite decipher.

What is it? he asked, and handed it over.

This is the personal journal of Nadezhda Trubnikova, Cathy said, tracing a faded tree stamped on the leather cover with her fingertips.

Who?

Did you know that Alaska was once a Russian territory?

Yeah.

Cathy glanced up at him, lips quirking in a smile. You continue to surprise me, Christopher.

Chris shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. I read. What does that have to do with Nadz-whatever?

Nadezhda Trubnikova. After the United States purchased Alaska from Russia in the mid-nineteenth century, many of the Russian Americans returned to Russia, but some migrated south and resettled in the Pacific Northwest. Trubnikova was one of them. She still has descendants in the area. As you know, I’ve been trying to track down information on your ability. I got a letter the other day from a woman who said her grandmother used to tell her stories about her own great-great-great-grandmother, who was what she called a ‘spirit walker.’

You think she was an astral walker. And that’s her journal! Chris could barely contain his excitement.

Mmmhmm. The unfortunate thing is, it’s in Russian.

So, we need to find someone who can speak Russian. I take it Trubnikova’s descendant doesn’t?

No. But we not only need someone who can speak Russian, we need someone we can trust with your secret.

That certainly narrows it down. Chris sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. One step forward, two steps back. He felt her eyes on him and looked down. What?

"There is someone, you know…"

Don’t say it.

Your mother.

Chris rubbed his temples. What could possibly be more awkward or uncomfortable than going to Mom for help when she’s barely speaking to me?

Cathy’s hand caught his, and a light squeeze brought him back to the present. I know things have been awkward with you and Addie. I won’t presume to know why, but don’t ever doubt that she loves you. She’d do anything for you. This… this is nothing.

Chris bent and pressed a kiss to the top of Cathy’s silvery head. I love her too. But it might be better if you—

She closed the book and poked him in the stomach with it.

He grimaced, but took it. Okay, okay. I can take a hint.

He didn’t linger long after that, ducking out to give Cathy a chance to rest. He was halfway across the front yard when his phone rang. The caller ID read Unknown, but he answered it anyway. There was a time in the not-distant past when he would’ve automatically hung up on any call claiming to be from a prison inmate. These days, there was always a chance it could be Emma, so Chris accepted the call even though it was outside her usual schedule.

Hello? The timid voice on the other end was unmistakable.

Hey, Em, what’s up? Had enough massages and golf for one day? Chris asked, opening the car door and slipping behind the wheel. He started the car to get the heat going, but let the engine idle. Emma was in a minimum-security facility, and while he knew it was far from a holiday, joking about it helped ease his guilt over her being in there at all.

Chris! The relief in her voice was obvious, even long distance. Are you okay?

Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? A knot of dread formed in his stomach.

Listen, I don’t have much time, Emma said urgently. He found me.

Chris frowned, tossing the old journal lightly into the passenger’s seat. We figured he would. But you should be safe. You’re in prison. There are guards everywhere, right?

Emma had run afoul of her old coven-gone-cult leader when she stole five grand from him and disappeared. He’d been willing to go to some pretty extreme lengths to collect both her and the money, but Chris and Joey had foiled his plan.

It doesn’t matter. God, I was stupid to think it would…

Emma, take a deep breath and—

Shut up and listen!

It wasn’t like Emma to be so assertive. Chris shut up, and he listened.

You’re in danger. Joey too. Don’t trust anyone. Do you understand?

Emma, I—

Chris! Do you understand?

Yes, I understand. I mean, I don’t know what happened or what’s going on, but I get what you’re saying.

Get out of town if you can. I’ll be in touch.

Emma, wait—

I’m sorry, I have to go.

Wait! What’s going on, what—

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. Chris stared at it in confusion, then sighed and snapped it into the dashboard mount. He voice-dialed Joey before pulling away from the curb, but she didn’t answer. He considered leaving a message, but Emma was jumpy when it came to her former master. It was entirely possible that she was just being paranoid.

Chris decided to talk to Joey about it when she came over later. Still, Emma’s warning stuck with him long after he hung up. While part of him just wanted to be left alone now that his life had settled into something resembling normal, another part of him hoped that the guy would make a move. As far as he was concerned, they were anything but even.

2

Joey poked her head into the study and rapped lightly on the open door. Hey, Mom, you ready for me?

Adelaide didn’t look up from whatever it was she was writing. You’re late.

I stopped for a glass of water. Sue me. Joey sauntered across the room and dropped into one of the chairs that faced the desk. Adelaide had settled into her new study rather nicely in the weeks since her arrival. It had a different flair from the one she’d maintained at the house in San Diego, and well it should. All the furniture was new. She simply hadn’t seen the need to pack and move all of the furniture in California. The house would remain as it was, ready to move in again whenever they needed it.

Joey’s suggestion to rent the house out had been quickly dismissed. In light of what had happened with Chris’s house, Adelaide was reassessing all of their rental properties. Besides, it was difficult to find a proper tenant for a multimillion-dollar house. Anyone who could afford to lease it could easily afford to buy one of their own.

Joey sat quietly for a time, then offered, Chris says hi.

Adelaide’s writing paused, then resumed. Is he coming to dinner tomorrow?

Joey smirked. Yes.

As if she could hear the expression in her daughter’s voice, Adelaide looked up. Joey took a hasty sip of water. Her mother gazed at her in lingering, narrow-eyed scrutiny, then capped her fountain pen.

How is he? Adelaide asked.

Joey shrugged a shoulder. Good as can be expected. He’s got a lot on his plate right now.

I’m sure he does.

You should see him with his people. He’s a natural, Mom.

I’m sure he is.

This was going nowhere fast. Joey suppressed a sigh. What’s eating you? Is it him and me, you know, together? I thought you’d be happy about that.

Adelaide set aside her pen and laced her fingers together. Not everything is about you, Josephine.

Joey frowned. That’s not what I— You know, forget it. Can we get started?

Mmm, yes. How is your research into the Eastgate coven going?

Good, if slowly. Sam’s been a lot of help, though. I think this PI thing is going to work out for him. Joey shifted in her seat, fishing her phone out of her pocket and unlocking it to thumb through her notes. The land is registered to a corporation: Third Eye, LLC. The managing member is Marcus Madrigal—that’s the name Emma gave us for the coven leader, too. We’re trying to get in touch with local law enforcement to find out if there’s a history of problems with the coven, but Eastgate is an unincorporated community, so there’s no police department. Sam’s got a call in to the Churchill County sheriff’s office. He’s hoping his PI license will open some doors.

Interesting.

If you say so. I’ve been trying to make contact with the other runaway Emma told us about, but the email address she gave me is bouncing. I’m hoping to talk to Emma about it the next time she calls. In the meantime, Sam’s helping me run a background check on Madrigal to see what else we can find out about him and his operation.

Adelaide nodded. It sounds like you’re making some progress. That’s good. Knowledge is power. The more we know about this man, the better off we’ll be. Anything else?

Not right now. Give me a couple days. Hopefully I’ll have more. Did you have a chance to look up packs in the area? Joey wasn’t sure exactly what information was contained in Adelaide’s mysterious database, or how she’d managed to get something as sophisticated as a database set up. Joey had only just found out about it a few days ago.

Yes. Adelaide drew the keyboard on her desk closer and poked a key. She eyed the screen with lips pursed when nothing happened.

Joey leaned over wordlessly and pushed the power button on the monitor. The screen came to life with a quiet buzz.

Thank you, Adelaide murmured, and tapped a few more keys, hunt-and-peck style. The closest pack is the Silver Springs pack, but they’re about eighty miles away.

That’s pretty far. Joey looked out the window. But they might have dealt with the coven before. It can’t hurt to reach out to them. Do you want to do that, or should I?

I’ll take care of it. Adelaide pushed the keyboard away again. How is your training coming along?

Sam says I’m doing great. Never mind that between mornings at the gym with Sam and afternoons in the studio with Chris, Joey was burning the candle at both ends.

Rising from her