The Wolf's Pewter Priestess Read online

“Me too.” Ezra meant it. He’d held himself apart from everything since the moment he changed, then more so since the incident with Miss Jemmy’s mother. Perhaps, he’d taken the wrong turn at every major cross road and it was time to find the correct path.

  Jerome and Ezra stepped out of Grant’s room a while later and headed for the library. Omer had announced his arrival through the connection he established with all of them upon accepting his agreement. Ezra had been a little different than the others, due to what happened with Miss Jemmy’s mother. He promised not to bite anyone, even a mate, so not to cause their death. As much as Omer tried to make him understand he’d done nothing wrong, he couldn’t have another person’s death on his hands. He’d done enough killing for the Union Army, he didn’t need to continue it here. The horde being the exception.

  At the mouth of the hall stood Clara. The irresistible urge to go to her, consumed him. He held himself apart from her though, keeping his pace even as he and Jerome came upon her. “We are ready.”

  “As are we,” she answered. “Omer is in the library with the others including Mr. Nealy, Mr. O’Keefe, and Charlie. Mr. Donovan and Miss Norah will be here shortly.”

  “Thank you, Miss Clara,” Ezra stated. “We will be there, in a moment. I have a few more questions for the good doctor.”

  She nodded. “I understand.” Her thick Creole accent disappeared and smoothed out the husky edge to her voice. In the few moments when it peeked out, he found himself quite enjoying it.

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. These feelings of possessiveness were growing out of control, and the fact his truths hurt her in some visceral way, broke his wolf. She didn’t understand the half of what he’d dealt with where Marbella was concerned. The obsessive she-wolf wouldn’t let Ezra out of her clutches until miraculously his seed took root and created Grant. Then, it got worse.

  Thankfully, the door opened at the exact moment and Miss Norah and Dr. Donovan appeared. As they hung up their coats on the coat rack, Annabelle greeted them. The welcome break Ezra needed to gather his tattered wits seemed impossible now. With everyone there, Omer wouldn’t allow him to dally.

  “I will speak with you later, Miss Clara.” The words were abrupt, almost to the point of being rudely clipped. She’d done nothing to deserve his ire.

  Her lips thinned as she turned from him and went in search of the other females of the house. Ezra realized he stuck his foot in his mouth as Norah, Annabelle and Clara shot him a withering glance. It seemed his way with American ladies, didn’t transfer to foreigners—even if Clara wouldn’t confirm her identity.

  As he took the steps down to the main floor of the manor, he hung back, allowed Jerome and Clara to enter before him. He paused in front of the mirror hanging over the side table. Too much was happening to fast for his liking. For years, he’d been able to hide, whether in the parks or within the manor. Unfortunately, with the continuous changes to their group of marauders, it seemed he couldn’t hide any longer, and a part of him resented all of them.

  “You’re thinking too hard, old friend,” Jonah stated, coming up beside Ezra. His reflection didn’t show in the mirror. A perk or a curse, depending on who explained it, for a vampire. The first time Ezra noticed it, it shocked him. Confounded him.

  “How can I not think, Jonah?”

  The vampire signed. “It’s true, you must take caution while traversing this delicate subject, but you should also not treat him as a child either. He has gone through things. His body and mind are out of flux and until he finds his balance once more, he will be vulnerable.”

  All the things Ezra felt those first three months of his rebirth as a wolf. Only, as a changed wolf, not born such, he suffered through raging erections. An insatiable sexual appetite. A deep hunger for something more and keener senses. The tainted smell of wolves in heat, used to finding sloppy, drunkard men to scratch their itch, permeated the pack, twisting his insides. Yet, instead being able to resist their allure, his prick ruled his body. Yes, he understood it all more so than he could explain to his son. “I understand. It’s secondhand to me now. To him...I’m not sure there is a way. It’s something that will stay with him now.”

  Jonah squeezed his shoulder. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. However, I don’t think you give him enough credit. I am sure he’s scented it before his grandmother came upon the situation at hand. He didn’t understand it is all. A boy of his age realizes there are changes on the horizon, what or when is the only thing he doesn’t know.”

  Truth. He couldn’t dispute Jonah’s assessment of the situation. “I should have brought him sooner. Things are not right with this pack. Never have been. I can feel it to my soul.”

  “A pack needs its Alpha—”

  “Don’t you see the mess this pack is in? I chose not to see it before this evening. I ignored it. Figured I’d been the only male in the area. Still, the more I think about it, the more none of this makes any sense. There should be more men. There should be more natural born wolves. I am missing something important with my pack.” And yet, he couldn’t leave to find the answers he sought.

  “Then it is time to grab hold of this pack and set your own rules,” Jonah replied. “The pack is only as strong as its leader.”

  True. “Then I will, but first, we must speak with Omer about what Miss Clara and I found at the park.”

  “Of course,” his friend answered. “I assume all is not well.”

  “Is it ever?” Ezra cocked a brow.

  Jonah chuckled. “I suppose it’s not.”

  They stepped into the library where everyone had gathered. Mr. Nealy, Mr. Enright, and Mr. Dunn were huddled together talking. Ezra wondered if the reanimated man saw the way Andres watched him, or made it a habit of touching him? Mr. Donovan stood close to Miss Norah, while Charlie seemed to busy himself. If an automaton could do such.

  Omer sat with Miss Dell near the fireplace. For the first time ever, in Ezra’s estimation, the ancient being appeared, corporeal, normal. He held a tea cup like Miss Dell, nodding at something she said while she prattled on, stopping only to take a sip. Then, he spotted Clara. His Creole Queen. He hadn’t meant to call her such, out loud at least, while they were in the park, but the words rolled off his tongue, stamping his claim over her.

  She talked with Annabelle and Norah. It seemed hushed, hurried almost. If he used his hearing, he could intrude upon their interlude, but like Jonah had explained about Annabelle, it would take away Clara’s privacy and he didn’t ever want to break trust or overstep his bounds unless needed. He went to her. He’d been an idiot earlier. She’d only meant to show her concern and he...well he pushed her away.

  “Miss Clara,” he murmured, standing apart from her.

  She glanced up at him. “Mr. Blakely.”

  He clenched his jaw. He hated the formal way she spoke to him. “Can we speak?”

  She stepped away from Annabelle and Norah. “Something wrong?”

  Ezra shook his head. “Actually, all is right. Grant will be staying with us. I believe this conversation tonight might be too overwhelming for his mind after such a tragic event. I thought it best he rested tonight, tomorrow he can explore till his heart’s content. Lo and behold, he fell asleep moments before you saw me in the hall.”

  “Good, he’s been through an ordeal. I’m glad he’ll be staying. It seems he has made an impression here. Is there anything else?” The way Clara detached from him, didn’t sit well with him.

  “I also needed to apologize.” He took her hand in his. “I believe I am sending you mixed signals. It is not my intention. We should speak more, later. I promise I will clarify things better then.”

  She visibly relaxed. The frown between her brows eased. Her posture sagged slightly and the twinkle of life he’d grown to like, returned to her brown eyes. “I’d like that.” She glanced down at where they touched. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  The meeting went by quickly. Clara and he told every
one what they witnessed and what they’d seen and smelled within the park. Though Clara could tell Omer about Baron Samedi he couldn’t tell Omer who the blood belonged to. The sulfur and rye scent he associated with the Baron covered the scent of blood as they got closer to the site.

  “Doesn’t make sense,” Mr. O’Keefe said, before taking a drink from the tumbler in his hand. Ezra watched as the amber liquid slid down his throat before disappearing below the collar of his shirt. “Why would this Baron show up and what’s his mission?”

  Clara shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “What was the blood for?” Emmitt added.

  “I couldn’t tell you, friend,” Ezra answered. “I’m not sure if it was part of the spell to summon the Baron or if it was a fight. Which, with the full moon upon us, it would make sense.”

  Omer glanced down at the cup still in his hand. “We have to find out the source of this summoning.” A thoughtful expression crossed his features. “Miss Clara, could this have anything to do with Lucien’s necromancy?”

  Her scent changed for a second. Fear jerked her. Then, it floated away. Her calm facade returned, as though nothing had disturbed her. Whoever the Baron had been or was, scared her, and in turn, it worried him. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Ezra scented her lie. “Are you sure, Clara?”

  She turned to him. “Yes.”

  Lie.

  Ezra chose not to pursue it. Instead he nodded. “We’ll have to keep an eye out and wait. It’s all I can think of.”

  “And your son?” Omer glanced at him.

  “Will be staying with us. He needs some normalcy. I thought about putting him up in a flat, however it is safer here and he does enjoy all of your company. I also think his mother will come for him wherever he is, and here means she won’t be able to take him.” Determination filled him. He wouldn’t allow Marbella to harm his son or use him any longer.

  “Very well,” Omer stated. “I suspect we’ll have our hands full with his mother.”

  “Yes.” Ezra couldn’t lie.

  A howl rent the night air, interrupting their conversation. Omer glanced at him and he went to the window overlooking the grounds. Ezra saw nothing. The howl came again, and this time Clara went to the window facing the front of the house. Her breath hitched as she pointed to where the gas lantern sat perched near the entrance to the house.

  “Ezra,” she called out. “We have company.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Don’t do anything. I will handle this.” He stormed from the library and went to the front door. How dare they show up at his home after what they did to his son.

  The white wolf paced outside the wrought iron gate. Its lips were pulled back, exposing its teeth. Energy curled through the air and pushed into Ezra. His wolf shoved to the surface as rage morphed into something more. A red haze covered his vision and he let loose the growl of dominance building within him.

  “Shift. Now. Face me.” He took a step toward the entrance. “How dare you show yourself here.”

  The wolf’s body contorted as their bones broke then realigned back to their human position. When the petite blonde faced him, Ezra recoiled from her. Edith. One of Marbella’s servants. The woman would do anything to prove herself. Including making the mistake of coming to his home.

  “Give him to me,” she snarled. “Marbella wants her son back. He didn’t have her permission to leave.”

  Ezra curled his lip. “Who says he needs the she-bitch’s permission? I am Alpha, not Marbella. My word is law. Grant will be staying with me for now. Go home.”

  “I can’t leave without him.” She stepped to the gate. “By any means necessary.”

  “Then you sign your death warrant.”

  A scream came from the library and he turned his head. Edith laughed as the clack of nails grew closer. There were more of them. Without a second thought of how it might hurt, Ezra gave over to his wolf. He would be damned if any of Marbella’s wolves hurt his family. When his paws hit the ground, he took off for the library side of the house.

  At least now, he could work off some of the excess energy coursing through him. As he came around the corner, Jonah joined him along with Omer. For the first time in years, a feeling of belonging, of true acceptance settled within Ezra. He wasn’t alone.

  Never had been.

  Chapter Four

  Watching Ezra shift from man to wolf held Clara spellbound by the window. It was...no, he was beautiful. Annabelle said her name several times, yet she’d been content to stand there and watch as a graceful Ezra charged towards them. Her friend grabbed her good arm, and wrenched her from her position at the window, and drew her attention back to the matters at hand.

  All the men had left to follow Ezra, leaving only the woman. If those rogue shifters thought they had found easy prey, they’d soon learn their lesson when the Dreadfuls got ahold of them.

  “Grant,” Miss Dell said, rising slowly from her chair.

  “It might be best if you remain in your human form,” Clara warned as she eased closer to where Annabelle and Nora stood in the hallway.

  Their attention had been directed towards the front of the house. Clara would have preferred to stay by the window, to watch for Ezra and help when he needed it, however her friends also needed her assistance. She’d never admit to it, but seeing him shift from was the single most exciting thing she had ever witnessed, and being with Annabelle over the years, she had seen a lot.

  “Should I cast a protection spell?” Clara’s gaze flicked to the steps. Grant was up there, in his room, blissfully asleep and unaware of the turmoil currently happening around the grounds, she hoped.

  “All of the men are outside,” Annabelle replied. She pulled a wicked crossbow from the hutch in the hallway then slung the quiver over her shoulder. After they moved into the manor, she and Annabelle had strategically placed weapons just in case. Clara never fathomed something, like this, happening this close to home.

  “What’s the worst you could do?” Norah hedged, grabbing the saber from the box.

  “Immobilize them. Leave them open to attack and unable to defend themselves.”

  “Right.” Annabelle huffed out a breath as a look of concern flashed across her features. “Let’s not do that then.”

  “Should I even ask why we are standing here and not supporting them?” Norah cocked a brow before turning from them. “We shouldn’t be having a conversation like it’s high tea, ladies. We should be fighting.”

  “It might be best to let the wolf handle his pack. Jonah said Ezra is odd about interference with them. We’ll be the second line of defense.” Clara fell back to the stairs, blocking anyone from getting closer to where the boy slept.

  “They have come for Grant,” Miss Dell stated as she entered the foyer. The older female wrung her hands with worry. The fine lines around her eyes deepened as did the ones around her mouth. Her skin had turned a sickly shade of white, and for a moment, Clara worried she’d pass out.

  “Never fear, Ezra will not allow them to take his son.” Perhaps, Miss Dell worried about her daughter and what would happen to her once Ezra got his hands on her. Or worse, once Marbella got her hands on Grant.

  Miss Dell jumped when the loud crash of something or better yet, someone, slammed against the side of the house. Poor woman must be at her wits’ end with everything happening in the last day or two. As Annabelle made her way to the front door, Clara laid a comforting arm on Dell’s shoulder.

  “What if they get in?” Dell whispered, her voice hitching slightly with fear for her grandson.

  “Won’t happen,” Annabelle responded before Clara could even open her mouth to answer. “Neither Jonah or Ezra will allow it.” The leader of the Misfits gave Clara a knowing look.

  A series of howls, growls and finally whimpering could be heard from where they stood.

  “Ladies,” Dr. Brew called out as he opened the massive front door then strolled through. He ignored Annabelle who stood ready with the crossbo
w aimed at his heart, or whoever decided to take a chance on breaching the front entrance. The heavy wooden door slammed closed behind him. “Ezra is almost done removing the riffraff from our lawn. He asked me see to Grant.”

  Protect him, more likely.

  Dr. Brew could easily switch to the deranged man, Mr. Tinnin. When Clara inquired how it was possible, he explained after years of using the experimental tonic, the properties bonded to his cells, allowing him the ability to take on either form without hesitation. If the deranged man decided to make an appearance, no one, human or wolf would get to the young boy.

  “Good to hear.” Clara stepped aside as Dr. Brew bounded up the stairs two at a time, disappearing down the hallway.

  A few moments later, the men of the Dreadfuls made their way back into their home. Jonah, intent on none of his team being hurt by his Beloved, removed the weapon she held as soon as he stepped into the foyer.

  “All is good.” Jonah’s gaze slid towards her then to Dell. “Ezra is just … cleaning up.”

  Dell nodded in understanding. “I will check on Grant then,” she said, heading in the same direction Dr. Brew had gone.

  “Looks like you are no worse for wear,” Annabelle proclaimed, snatching the bow from Jonah’s hands to return it to the hutch.

  By the gleam in Jonah’s eyes, Clara knew what was coming. In the short time they’d all lived together, Clara had figured out their little games. Jonah liked to push Annabelle. Challenge her. While Annabelle enjoyed toying him as well. “I’ll take my leave.” Clara didn’t wait for an answer, instead, she headed for her favorite spot. The library.

  Although it was spring, a fire crackled in the massive fireplace, providing a hint of light while keeping the chill out of the massive room. Clara inhaled. The scent of leather, ancient scrolls and old spells lingered in the air. She hadn’t seen him when she entered, though she suspected Emmitt lingered somewhere in the big room. Most likely, he tucked himself away in a darkened corner and used the shadows to hide him while he read one of his many books.

  She knew Emmitt disliked her love of his library and she didn’t give a spit. Few things in London reminded her of home, but this library did. Marie Laveau or better known as Granmé, to her, had been born a free black woman with the love of learning, would have also gotten lost in there for days on end. She would have treasured all the old spell books and primitive texts.