Moon Bound (The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  Ellianne’s face remained impassive. “Then your debt to me will triple.”

  I shivered, calculating how quickly this could spiral out of control. If I didn’t find the book, I’d owe her three more favors. And if those couldn’t be completed in short, ridiculous time frames, I’d owe more and more until I did nothing but favors for the faerie. She’d own me in no time.

  “Find the book and we will be even.” She walked away.

  I stood there in the cold, cursing myself for getting into this situation and wondering just how I was going to track down a rare book in less than seventy-two hours.

  Chapter 2

  The pizza had arrived by the time I’d gotten hold of myself and gone back home. I found Raff seated at the kitchen table with a single, half-eaten slice of veggie pizza on his plate.

  “What did she want?” he asked.

  “She needs me to research something for her,” I said, doing my best to act normal.

  There was no way I could tell Raff that I had an obligation to a faerie. He’d think I was incredibly stupid for getting myself into that situation and, worse, he’d worry that I wouldn’t succeed.

  I grabbed a plate and piled slices of pizza on top of it, even though I no longer had an appetite. Not taking pizza would look super suspicious.

  “That’s strange,” Raff said, after another bite of his slice. “Does she usually come to you for help?”

  After the intensity of the past two months, it was jarring whenever I was reminded just how little time had passed since Raff and I met. It felt like we’d known each other for years, but it had been less than three months. So, while he knew I went to Ellianne’s library for research, he didn’t know much about our relationship or lack thereof.

  I shrugged and sprinkled red pepper onto my food. “This is a special request. She needs it soon, though, so I should get to work.” I held the plate up. “Thanks for the pizza.”

  “Sure,” Raff said, still looking uncertain. “Just be careful doing things for faeries. They have a way of squeezing blood out of stones.”

  You have no idea.

  “I know,” I said. “This is just a small thing.”

  I grabbed my laptop and headed upstairs to my room, shutting the door for privacy. Finally alone, I breathed out a sigh of relief.

  I hated lying to Raff, but I didn’t have a choice. Right now, he had bigger things to worry about. On Friday night, he was going to be anointed Alpha of the Northern Washington Werewolf Pack. Sasha, our current Alpha, had already all but stepped down and was going to hand leadership over to him. That wasn’t a problem. The problem was that the Portland Wolf Pack’s Alpha, Levi, was determined to challenge our Alpha for control of our pack. And since Portland was a more traditional wolf pack, that meant a fight. The stakes were high, since none of the local Washington wolves wanted to be in a pack like Levi’s, with strict rules and regulations.

  Meanwhile, I had until nine o’clock Friday night to find this rare book and get it into her cold fae hands before I ended up owing her three more favors. And I had no doubt she’d make each favor harder than the last until I was hopelessly indebted to her for the rest of my life.

  I set the pizza aside and opened my computer. I briefly checked Michael’s social media, but there was still nothing. Of course, it was a vampire party. It had started at sunset, which came early in winter, and would likely go on until right before sunrise, when vampires would have to seek shelter for the day. If he didn’t have access to his phone, there were unlikely to be any updates or any answers to text messages until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

  Michael didn’t know that I owed Ellianne a favor, either, but he knew about the book I’d “borrowed” without permission that had led to my debt. I could tell him what I was up against and see if he had any bright ideas, but not until tomorrow.

  So, I got to work.

  The first thing was to check the most obvious places: eBay, online used bookstores, and Amazon. It might seem obvious, but things that are obvious to those of us in the human world may not even occur to an immortal faerie who didn’t really understand the internet.

  Unfortunately, the searches turned up nothing except one listing on a rare book site in Georgia, and it was listed as “out of stock, out of print, not available for order.” So much for that.

  My second course of action to was to boot up the supernatural dark web. It was a slice of the internet accessible to those with the know-how. Only a tiny fraction of humans knew the supernatural world existed, so the supernatural dark web was small, consisting of a few forums and a small black market where people sold things like vampire blood and faerie wine. Oddly, a lot of the people frequenting this dark corner of the internet were not supernatural themselves, just people who’d had close encounters of the paranormal kind and wanted to talk about or profit from it. Mostly the latter.

  After scrolling through the available books, mostly stuff I’d seen in Ellianne’s library already, I posted a want ad for the book in question. I doubted it would net me anything. These were humans who collected and found things by sheer luck more than any knowledge of where more items might be found. But still, it didn’t hurt to try. Maybe someone was sitting on the exact book I needed. Of course, they’d want a ridiculous amount of money for it, but I’d worry about crossing that bridge when I came to it.

  Only then, after exhausting my internet resources, did I manage to choke down both slices of pizza. I crossed my fingers some arcane archivist would see my post and shoot me an email. Maybe this would be over by morning.

  I went to bed.

  At three-thirty in the morning, I awoke with a jolt. I’d been having a strange dream, but when I tried to remember what it was about, it evaporated into fog.

  I checked my computer. No response to my want ad for the book. Nothing from Michael online or on my phone. I heard Raff come up the stairs and go into his room for the night. He was more nocturnal than me, but he also did his job, freelance web design, from home.

  I used the restroom and was about to go back to bed when cold flooded my veins. For a second, I thought something was in my room. I flipped on the light and looked around in a panic. No one was there. My window was still tightly closed. The cold wasn’t a breeze. It was coming from inside my bones, a dull, icy ache. I suddenly became aware of how much time I’d slept away. Six and a half hours since Ellianne had tasked me with finding the book. That meant I only had sixty-five and a half hours left. Put like that, sleeping didn’t seem like a super smart use of my time.

  I pulled on leggings, a black skirt, and a dark gray sweater. I shoved my phone in my purse, checked that my tiny plastic Taser was still next to my wallet, and crept quietly downstairs. Raff was already snoring, but I was careful not to wake him as I pulled on a coat and scarf and headed out the front door.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a car, and buses that ran at this hour were few and far between. I hiked down Capitol Hill, moving quickly and avoiding anyone still lingering on the street. Most people I saw were like me: in a hurry to get where they were going.

  The Underground Market’s entrance was in a seemingly-abandoned warehouse in Pioneer Square. I’d only been there a few times, but I figured if anyone in the city knew where I might find a super-rare book about curses, they’d be at the market.

  I opened the hatch in the dusty, empty office inside the warehouse and climbed down a ladder, which dropped me into a dark, narrow space. I had to work at the brick wall to get it to open, and when it did, it whooshed open so fast I jumped back.

  Light and noise from the market flooded the small room, and I stepped out into a bustling marketplace. It was wildly busy despite the late (or early) hour on a Wednesday morning. I walked with feigned purpose down the street, ignoring vendors and tables at both sides. Lanterns suspended overhead provided plenty of light, and the ceiling was painted to look like a blue sky, making the market feel otherworldly. It was a little like stepping out of a movie theater you’d entered during t
he day only to find the world blanketed in darkness, but the opposite. It was eternal evening here in the market.

  I started at the table of the witch, Avery, who’d helped me last time, but she wasn’t there, and neither was her witchy friend. Their table was empty tonight. Without a guide to help me, I walked to the end of the market, careful not to venture into any alley. From what I’d observed, the vendors in the alleys were more dangerous, or maybe it only seemed that way.

  The last vendor at the very end of the market sold what looked like regular honey from normal bees, just locally sourced, the kind of thing you’d find at a normal mortal farmer’s market. The woman selling it was in her sixties with white hair and a sweater that looked handmade. She smiled at me. I figured she was my best bet for information, since the Underground Market did not have a map or help desk.

  “Excuse me, do you know anyone here who sells rare books?” I asked.

  The woman glared, her sweet disposition melting like the Wicked Witch from the West. “I’m not a concierge. You want anything from me, you need to buy.”

  I studied her jars of honey and selected the cheapest one. It held about three ounces, what I’d call a sample size.

  “How much?” I asked, since the price was not on it.

  “Twenty bucks.”

  I scoffed. “For this itty-bitty thing?”

  She shrugged. “Buy it or don’t.”

  I decided I could peruse the market’s vendors myself for that price and put the honey down. I turned to go.

  “You know, if I had a Faerie Mark on me, I’d be willing to pay for information,” the woman said mildly, as if she were commenting on the weather. My blood ran cold.

  “A Faerie Mark?” I practically squeaked.

  She shrugged again and folded her arms over her chest.

  Annoyed but unable to let such a comment pass, I picked up the overpriced jar of honey and handed over a twenty-dollar bill. She took the money and put it into a cash box at the end of her table.

  “Well?” I demanded.

  For a second, she only stared at me, and I worried I’d just bought honey I didn’t want for nothing.

  But then she said, “You have a Faerie Mark. It’s like a shadow on your aura. You didn’t know?”

  “I didn’t know that was a thing,” I admitted.

  I’d checked myself in a mirror earlier and seen nothing out of the ordinary. Just how visible was this thing?

  “It means you’re currently under a faerie bargain,” she said, squinting at me curiously. “I assume you know that much.”

  I nodded slowly. I definitely did. I didn’t realize it left a mark on me that others could see. I really needed to start asking more questions before agreeing to things. Not that I’d had much choice.

  “Well, it leaves a mark on you. Might make some less willing to help you out.”

  I sighed. Of course it would. Why would it make anything easier?

  “I just need to know if anyone at the market is known for selling books. Supernatural type books. Anyone here like that?” I asked.

  Again, there was a painfully long stretch of silence. I didn’t know why I was bothering to let this woman waste my time. The market was large, sure, but I could walk through it and stop to study each booth in about an hour.

  “There’s Devon,” she said finally. “But he’s not here every night. Has a blue tent he sets up at the end of Luck Alley.”

  “Luck Alley?” That sounded way less scary that I’d have expected.

  “Fourth alley on the right heading that way.” She pointed down the street.

  “Thanks,” I said. “That’s helpful.”

  I put the honey into my purse and then stopped. “It’s just normal honey, right? It’s not cursed or magical or made by ghost bees?”

  The woman laughed. “It’s regular honey, kid. My wife and I keep bees. Honey has all sorts of magical uses.”

  With that, I dove back into the crowd and counted the alleys as I went. The one where Michael had purchased blood was on the opposite side of the market, and I was relieved not to have to go back there. Although, with the big vampire gala going on tonight, I didn’t know if the blood seller would even bother to set up shop.

  I passed one alley that was bathed in warm red light with a bouncer-like woman standing at the mouth. I walked by quickly. The fourth alley, Luck Alley, had no sign designating it as such. The lighting above was dimmer than on the main street. Tents and tables crowded both sides of the alley, which extended back the length of a long city block.

  There was more than one blue tent, forcing me to stop and peer inside each. In the middle, I found a navy-blue tent that had its flaps rolled up. Inside, it was lined with shelves full of books.

  This was the sort of arcane tent I’d have sought out on my own, whether I owed a faerie a favor or not. Heck, if I’d known this was here, I’d have been here long before now to peruse their titles. The tent was about twelve by ten feet, wider than it was long, the size of a small bedroom. Every shelf was crowded with books, most leather bound or covered in canvas, with nothing on the spines, though there was a shelf near the door of more recently printed books with glossy covers.

  The woman inside was shorter than me, and I wasn’t exactly tall. She wore glasses and a brown skirt with a white top. She had brown hair and bright golden eyes.

  “Devon?” I asked.

  Her head snapped up. “You know my name.”

  “I was asking around about booksellers…” I trailed off and shrugged.

  She studied me carefully, her brow furrowing. “Don’t get a lot of your lot around here seeking books.”

  “My lot?” I asked.

  “Werewolves,” she said.

  I didn’t know how other supernaturals could so easily tell what I was. I certainly couldn’t tell what this woman was—if she was anything other than human—but they could.

  I decided not to argue that plenty of werewolves were literarily minded. The world saw us all as jocks.

  “I’m looking for a book called Curses and Cures by Leah Ladd.”

  “Hm,” she said, and turned her back to me as she ran fingers over the spines, searching the shelves.

  I held my breath. All I needed was for this woman to pluck the book off the shelf and this task would be done. My favor would be repaid, and I’d be free to never see Ellianne again, especially now that I had a new source for rare arcane books.

  She pulled a book from the shelf. Blood thrummed in my ears. I reached for it. She held it back.

  “This is How to Cure Almost Any Curse by Dennis Halpherty. Will that work? It’s a similar subject matter and was written during the same time. 1849.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. “No. It has to be the exact book.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t seem to have that one. This is a really comprehensive text, though. It has cures for warts, hiccups, and being turned into a gargoyle.”

  I blinked. “Hiccups are a curse?”

  “Can be. Depends on who you tick off.” Devon smiled, hefting the large book. “Sure this won’t help?”

  “No. I’m on the hunt for Curses and Cures specifically. I sort of owe someone a favor.”

  Devon’s face dropped. Like, she went from cheerful saleswoman to lady in mourning in seconds flat.

  “Oh, dear. That is a problem. I guess that explains your Faerie Mark.”

  “Oh my gosh, can everyone see it?”

  I dug through my purse and pulled out a compact. I studied my face in the mirror. When I’d gotten up and snuck out, I hadn’t bothered to put on makeup, so my face looked plain without the usual eyeliner and lipstick. But I didn’t see any magical faerie thing on my aura, just my freshly dyed black hair against my pale skin. “I don’t see anything.”

  “You have to know what to look for,” Devon said. “Unfortunately, as I said, I don’t have the book in question.”

  Figured.

  “Do you have any idea where I might find it? Preferably so
mewhere in the Pacific Northwest?” I asked.

  “There are a couple magic shops that stock rare books, though usually I buy them out,” she said. She put the unwanted book back where she’d found it and moved to a small table in the corner where she had stacks of receipt paper. She wrote something and tore off a sheet, handing it over. “This is the best shop, up on Queen Anne.”

  A shiver went down my spine. I worked on Queen Anne Hill, and I’d never seen a magic shop in that neighborhood. I definitely would have gone in. I didn’t recognize the address, though.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No prob. But like I said, I usually buy them out of anything useful. The other thing you can do is check with private collectors.”

  “Private collectors?” I parroted.

  Devon shrugged. “Sometimes people—mostly humans who are obsessed with the supernatural, but sometimes vampire hoarders or dragons—like to collect arcane items. But they’re far less likely to let go of anything they have. And even if they’re willing to part with it, it’s likely they paid a lot to get it and will want a lot in return. But if you’re desperate…”

  “I am,” I said solemnly. If I didn’t get a copy of this book into Ellianne’s hands, I’d spend the rest of my life doing her bidding, and that was unacceptable. “How would I find private collectors?”

  “Auctions are where I’d start.” I stared blankly. Devon, understanding that I again had no idea what she was talking about, sighed. “Every so often, there’s an auction held for arcane goods. It’s usual invite-only and pretty hush-hush, since most of the items aren’t legal.”

  “Since when did any supernaturals care about the human law?” I asked.

  “It’s not the human law they’re breaking. A lot of groups have laws about selling their artifacts. It’s illegal in vampire law to sell vampire blood, for example. These auctions are expensive and often dangerous. But the next one happens to be tonight.”

  “Well, isn’t that lucky?” I said, not really meaning it. “Can I get in?”

  “Sure. If you have an invitation.”