AN: Just to recap Grace the Enchanted is the witch from book one. (Chapters 18 and 25 of CODK if you need a refresh.)
The Hunter Meets His Past
Belfast, Ireland
Vincent gripped Evelyn tightly to his side, peering up and down the street nonchalantly. They stood outside a tacky looking tourist shop, Grace's Occult and Witchcraft Goods. A squeaky wooden sign was hanging out front, neon lights and old posters in the windows.
The sky was overcast, the sun fighting to peek out of the grey clouds. Humans bustled by, noses attached to their cell phones, completely unaware that a werewolf was among them. Typical.
"Is it safe?" Eve asked nervously. He knew it was risky bringing her with him, but the very thought of leaving her behind had made him feel physically ill.
Scenting the air he relaxed, taking another quick glance around. His wolf was calm, putting him at ease. "Aye."
Still, he kept a firm grip on his amulet. Even though he and Evelyn wore hooded jackets with scarves covering their faces he was a big man, easily recognized by a member of the Legion. And Evelyn was defenseless. He was ready to teleport them the hell out of there at a moment's notice if anything seemed off in the slightest.
"And, uh, who is this Grace person?" Eve asked.
"She's an old...acquaintance."
Evelyn tensed beside him. "Oh."
He chuckled. "Jealous?"
"No," she scoffed.
"Uh-huh." Leaning down he murmured close to her ear. "Not to worry, angelas, I've never known Grace in that way. She's known me since I was a pup. She was a good friend of my mothers and a member of my pack...for a short time."
"Oh!" Evelyn sighed, relaxing.
Two human females exited the shop, laughing as they toyed with some trinkets. He watched them leave with a frown. Nothing seemed amiss. Why the hell did Grace summon him?
"Come on." Taking Evelyn's hand he pulled her inside. As soon as they entered the shop the scent of incense and herbs assaulted him. He scrunched his nose and snorted.
Evelyn giggled. "What's the matter, big bad wolf, something in your nose?"
Pulling down his scarf he gave her a look, fighting a smile. "You're getting cheeky, girl."
She giggled again, looking around. "This place is neat."
"Wait until you see the real shop." The front of the store was a front for humans, selling trinkets and crystals to tourists with no real magical properties. Hidden in the back was the real shop, where the witch Grace the Enchanted sold items of true mystical value.
As they walked towards the back they passed the shop clerk who managed the front of the store. To any human he would appear as a young man in his early twenties, but Vincent immediately knew he was elven.
The elf's eyes glanced their way, racking over Evelyn as she removed her hood and scarf. Vincent growled in warning, his claws flexing. The elf jumped, stepping behind the counter as if he expected the flimsy wood to shield him.
"My claws would cut through that wood like paper, boy," Vincent snapped. "Keep that in mind the next time your eyes start to stray."
"Yes, sir," the elf mumbled just as Evelyn jabbed him in the ribs.
He rubbed them dramatically. "What?"
"That was rude," she hissed.
"He's lucky I didn't rip his eyes out."
"Vincent!" Her elbow connected with his ribs again.
He grunted. "They'd grow back."
At the back they reached a door that led to the real shop. Vincent turned the knob, the wards sizzling under his palm, ensuring he wasn't some curious human. After a moment the door gave way, revealing the hidden store behind it.
Before he could even step back Evelyn was shoving him aside and rushing into the room. "No way!" she squealed. The girl practically bounced up to a shelf, taking down what to him appeared to be a dried up stick. "Do you know what this is?"
"A stick..."
Her eyes landed on something else and before he received an answer she was rushing to another shelf, eyeing a bundle of white flowers "Holy crap, this is winterlock! Do you know how rare this is? Oh wow, and there's serpanite. You can make really powerful telekinesis elixirs with that. I've searched everywhere for it but the only mines are on the outer realms." She shot him a grin. "Vincent, this place is a gold mine!"
He grinned back, making a mental note of all the items she displayed to him. They didn't appear all that unique to him - stones, sticks, and flowers. But to Eve they were something special, all of them useful, all of them important.
"It's about damn time," Grace's Irish accent snapped from behind him. The witch stood in front of the counter, arms crossed. Even though Grace was older than Vincent himself, she appeared in her early twenties, long bright blue hair piled into a bun at the top of her head. Her familiar flew behind her, landing gracefully on a shelf.
Evelyn stepped beside him, slipping her arm around his as she eyed the witch wearily. Vincent's wolf gave a soft howl of pleasure that Eve so easily sought him for protection.
Stepping up the counter Vincent gave the witch a quick glance over. "You called, Grace."
"Aye." Grace gave him a hard look. "I thought you were dead, wolf."
"You should know better," he chided.
Grace smirked. "I suppose so." The witch assessed Evelyn thoughtfully. "And who is your companion?"
With a sigh Vincent introduced them. "Grace this is Evelyn."
Grace's eyes widened. "You found her?"
Vincent glanced at Evelyn with a confused frown. "What?"
"The alchemist," Grace breathed. "The one I told you ta seek. She cured you of the shadowlock."
Vincent felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. For a moment his world tilted. When Grace had discovered his pact with Gabriel the witch had near begged him to seek out a talented alchemist, the only one who could cure him of the Legions poison. It had never occurred to him that the alchemist and Evelyn were one and the same.
How could he be so blind? The mystic Levina had said so herself, Eve was the most gifted in all in the realms.
He stared down at Evelyn as if seeing her for the first time. Before his wolf had ceased to speak it had pleaded with Vincent to find the alchemist, to find Evelyn. And he had denied it. Had ignored his wolf, yet again. Fate and his wolf had been pushing him towards her, and he'd nearly missed the chance at finding her.
The very idea of never finding Evelyn - of never hearing her voice or knowing the taste of her skin - made his chest ache so painfully it was near unbearable.
"I didn't realize," he murmured.
"Perhaps if you hadn't refused to find her in the first place, instead of that damn foolhardy attempt ta take what dinna belong ta you, much could have been avoided," Grace scolded.
Evelyn looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "What is she talking about?"
Grace clucked her tongue. "She doesn't know? Keeping secrets, Vincent?"
"Not intentionally," he retorted, his jaw ticking. "What do you want?"
"I called to warn you. A mercenary paid me a visit." Grace leveled her gaze at him. "Nicholas Storm."
"Shit." Storm served the Demon King. The mercenary was a ruthless killer. "And you summoned me here?" he nearly shouted.
Grace held up a hand. "Do you think me a fool? Relax, wolf. He's long gone. He was seeking information. It would seem the Demon King is none to keen on letting you slip away."
"And what did you tell him?"
She snorted, crossing her arms. "The truth. That I thought you were dead." Her lips trembled. "I'm pissed at you, Vincent. I promised your mother, does that mean nothing?"
Guilt rode him. He knew Grace cared for him, but he couldn't afford such sentiments now. "I had no choice. I wasn't...well."
"Luckily, you were in skilled hands." Grace smiled at Evelyn. "Don't let this old wolf boss you around, Meek One. He's all bark."
Evelyn flushed, dropping her gaze. "I won't."
Vincent scowled. "Meek One?"
"Aye, Evelyn the Meek. Did you not know?"
He narrowed his eyes at Evelyn. "No, I didn't." Eve shrugged, glancing away.
Grace shook her head disapprovingly. "Ta many secrets between you two."
Evelyn cleared her throat. "It's no big deal."
"Evelyn-" His voice trailed off as a familiar scent struck him. His body froze, his wolf releasing a roar of anger. His gaze focused on the back door.
Can't be.
But there was no denying that scent. Even after all these centuries.
Evelyn touched his arm. "What is it?"
Vincent snarled, stalking to the door. He shoved it open, walking out into the cold air. Evelyn and Grace followed. Behind the shop Vincent peered out into the treeline, his body vibrating with fury.
Evelyn stood behind him. "Vincent?"
"Come out, I know you're here," he ordered, his voice laced with malice.
A soft chuckle reached him as a male werewolf emerged from the treeline, followed by two more males on either side. Vincent sized them all up quickly. The one in front approached Vincent haughtily, his demeanor that of a leader. The two in back were of no threat, weaker males, not even betas. But the one in front was alpha, and Vincent had already underestimated the wolf once before.
"Michael," Vincent snarled.
Michael cocked his head, dark blue eyes glinting. "You don't seem pleased to see me, brother."
Evelyn gasped behind him. Vincent held up his arm, shaking his head at her. "What do you want?"
"Is that anyway to speak to me?" Michael's voice vibrated, the voice of an alpha.
Vincent narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Trying to use your voice on me, Michael?"
Michael shrugged, walking closer. "It was worth a try."
"Try it again and I'll rip your tongue out," Vincent threatened.
The other wolf laughed, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You always were so dramatic."
As Michael neared his scent grew stronger, tainted by something strange. Something bitter.
Something's wrong with him.
The werewolf's body was relaxed, his face calm and nonthreatening, but Vincent knew better. Michael's face had changed over the centuries, turning twisted and cruel, his dark eyes void of any emotion. His black hair hung long down his back and shoulders, unkempt and wild. The wolf's clothes were soiled and torn, although he appeared not to notice or care.
Everything about Michael's appearance resonated with Vincent. His brother appeared half-mad, on the verge of slipping over the edge.
Seen this before.
"Vincent," Evelyn whispered, tugging on his sleeve. "His lips, they're blue. It's shadowlock."
He felt his heart go cold. Vincent knew why Michael's appearance was so familiar, it was as if he were staring in a mirror.
Evelyn's soft voice quivered, "He's Legion."