75 | CONFIRMATION

I go to the Coven with Zoe the next two days, staying in the library to dig up new information on the impending events. I have to admit, this part - researching - is a lot more soothing that just sitting around, reading reports. I feel like I’m actually being useful, trying to discover more about the possibilities of our fate and the supernaturals surrounding them. Including the L-Class in Darklight and whatever I can find on demons and angels.

The only problem is: some of the texts are in other languages, and Zoe only knows a few of them fluently enough to actually give reliable translations. I have an ongoing stack of books I plan to take back to the house with me that I tote along as I go to my office for my notes. Zoe stays in the library, still searching and researching for information on angels and demons - the part that’s most lacking in my knowledge right now, I set about to dismantling my office. Since it’s apparent I’m not going to actually be working out of the room anymore, I start to take all the tacked-up notes down and put them into my back pack to transport to my house. I’m not sure where I’m going to put it all, the house is tiny…literally a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen.

I’m just finishing taking the notes from one wall, with the other two remaining, and considering putting the stuff up in the greenhouse, when my phone rings. Seeing it’s a voice-call from Craven and not a video message or video chat call, I answer it immediately. My gut churning and alarm bells ringing in the back of my head.

*“Wisty,”* Craven’s voice crackles through the line. *“We’ve got a problem.”*

“What problem?” I hear myself ask as a disembodied feeling rips through me. *What else can go wrong? The King’s self-destructed and everything else is still hurtling towards the apocalypse.*

“*I’ve been traveling through the West and am noticing a particularly*…alarming *pattern.*” Craven replies slowly, his voice lowering at the end of the sentence. I hear something like more static through the line and frown, my stomach twisting nervously at his cautious tone. *“There are increasing sightings of shifters in the mountains. Shifters who aren’t supposed to be in this part of the continent.”* The way he says it makes the air around me turn icy, my heart stuttering over the words he’s not saying.

“*Draki*,” I guess on a breath, my eyes widening as I stare at the wall with vague information about the shifter subspecies known as *draki*…dragon shifters who’re supposed to be living in Alaska and Canada. “How many?” I whisper the question, unable to get enough air to speak louder. Only two Clans are supposed to be in the States, less than twenty *draki*.

*“Ten Clans.”* The phone nearly slips from my hands as the veins in my body run cold. *Ten Clans*…not ten *draki*, but ten *Clans*.

“Get back here. *Now.*” I order, my voice sounding disembodied to my own ears as my heartbeat explodes into a full-out gallop in my chest, hammering loudly in my head. Clans of *draki* are a lot like Wolven Packs, but their numbers range from three to fifty. A tiny voice in my head tries to remind me that it could just be ten Clans of three *draki*… Even then, that’s thirty *draki*. Thirty very dangerous and territorial dragon-shifters.

“*Already crossing back*,” Craven reassures me, his voice dry and cold now. I can tell he’s freaked, though, because of the way he’s breathing. Uneven and ragged. “*Wisty, you need to know-*” He begins, then lets out a string of curses, a sound like millions of trash bags being thrashed in the air comes from his side of the line. A bone-chilling rumble follows, the sound ending on a hiss. *“I gotta go.”* He interrupts himself and the line disconnects.

I can’t breathe. I stand there for what feels like hours, staring at the far wall in horror and disbelief. This can’t be happening. *How is something like this even possible? Draki, to my limited understanding, shouldn’t be able to descend from their homes so quickly and unseen without some massive consequences. Why now? Is it the shift in the cosmic energy or whatever that’s made them take such huge risks? Is it really that bad? And how’ve they gone undetected for this long? Surely other supernaturals would have realized at least thirty giant winged-lizards had moved into their backyards before now. Why haven’t there been any sightings of them before now? How’re they managing to stay so far under the radar that not even Nikki was aware of this?*

Nikki.

The reminder that I have an Ancient I need to summon and report to snaps me out of the million-question storm in my head. I immediately put my phone away and all but run to my desk in search f the little stone Nikki had given me to call on her with. The unusual disk-like contraption is still where I’d left it, in the top drawer of my desk. I waste no time in picking it up as I cross to the wall with the information on draki and start to pace.

I press the button on the stone and continue to pace as I wait for the Ancient to show up. My heart’s racing in my chest, spurred on by my rapid pace across the room as I try to think. Think and not immediately run to tell Paris that Crave might be- *no. No, stop thinking like that*. I mentally chide myself, hands balling into fists to stop them from shaking as fear and anger begin pulsing to new heights in me. The chill in my bones slowly starts to unfurl, raging against the warmth from the pendant around my neck. So I pace. Walking the same fifteen steps back between two walls until the presence of power presses into my skin and the smell of Death rises in the air.

“Ten *draki* Clans.” I announce to the Ancient without preamble or greeting. My wolf is so worked up right now that I can’t even be bothered to stop moving as I speak - or even look at the woman in white. “My cousin just called and he-” My steps falter with my voice as a lump rises in my throat. The insistent chill from my vamp side burns into my hot muscles, the pain of them cramping along my bones has me drawing in deep, measured breaths. “He wasn’t able to tell me much, but I got the impression he was being chased or was captured before he could give a full report.” I state in a cold tone, burying my emotions down so I can let the assistant of Death know what’s going on.

“Draki? Are you sure?” Nikki speaks in her usual calm and soothing tone - but there’s a slight edge to her voice. Like she’s praying to God that she’s misheard me.

“No, Nikki, I’m not ‘sure’.” I snarl in her direction, my wolf’s ire rising at her doubtful tone. I mentally slap myself and force the emotions back down to a simmering boil. *Breathe, Scar*. I think to myself, sucking in more deep breaths. “He literally spoke to me for a minute before he hung up. Like I said, I think he may have been chased or captured or-” I swallow hard and grit out the last part that makes my heart clench painfully in my chest. “Been killed.” *Did I just get my cousin killed?* The question flickers through my head like a flame before being snuffed out. But it’s too late. Guilt knocks the breath from my lungs and I freeze in place, staring out the window at the setting sun, my eyes glued to the violet hue darkening into indigo before the sky goes black.

“Scarlett,” Nikki calls out to me, sounding miles away. I keep staring out the window as the maelstrom that’s my emotions continue to rage in my mind. “Scarlett,” Again, I hear Nikki distantly, but now have no choice but to stare into her eyes as her face fills my field of vision. Today her eyes are hot pink with thick limbal rings darkening the edges of her irises. I blink in surprise as I look at her, the odd coloration quieting the storm in my head long enough for me to regain some semblance of control.

“I need to tell my cousin, Paris. She’s he’s Alpha-”

“And you may,” Nikki allows, leaning back so her face’s no longer a few inches from mine. A tiny flicker of concern pinches her forehead as she studies me a moment longer. “But first, I suggest you call that witch acquaintance you and your mate mentioned and expedite her trip here to secure the warding around the town. If your cousin was correct about the Clans in the West, then we will need to put up the warding much sooner than was originally planned. And I will see if I cannot speak with her myself on the type of warding she will place.”

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is this?” I can’t help but ask, my whole body feeling weak and exhausted as I come down from the adrenaline-high.

“Fifty.”