Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
The offer sounds sincere enough, but there’s something in her eyes that sets my teeth on edge. It’s the same look she always gives me—like she’s assessing me and finding me wanting.
There’s a huge difference between how she treated me in Aspen and how she treats me here. In Aspen, she was the magnanimous high-ranking wolf taking care of her brother’s pet lover. Here? She’s a guest in my pack.
Her true colors are easier to see.
“Thanks, Ivy,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I appreciate that. But we’ve got a great team here. Everyone pitches in where they can.”
She looks at me for a long moment, that odd expression still on her face. Then she shakes her head slightly. “So be it,” she says, her voice neutral. “Well, I’d better go find my people. Take care, Ava.”
I watch her retreating back, unable to keep the grimace off my face once she’s out of sight. Beside me, Selene lets out a low growl and kicks some snow in Ivy’s direction with her back paw.
“Play nice,” I mutter, even though I want her to do it again. “Ivy has a lot of support in the pack. We can’t afford to alienate her or her people.”
She started it, Selene grumbles in my mind. I don’t understand what her goal is. You have plenty of support in the pack too, you know.
I sigh, reaching down to scratch behind Selene’s ears. “I know,” I say softly. “But Ivy’s been doing this a lot longer than I have. She knows how to play the game. And right now, we need all the allies we can get.”
Selene huffs, clearly unconvinced. She’s up to something. I can smell it.
“Maybe,” I concede. “But there isn’t much she can do. She might want him, but he’s not falling for it. So we just need to ignore her. Come on, let’s go check on those refugees.”
As we make our way towards the outer tents, I can’t shake the unsettled feeling Ivy’s presence always leaves me with.
The wind picks up, sending a fresh flurry of snow swirling around us. I pull my coat tighter around me as Selene jumps through the snow, darting back and forth joyously as I trudge my way through.
LISA
“Sorry!”
My voice carries across the clearing, and three shifters wave their hands over their heads in my direction. It could be to say everything’s fine. Or maybe they’re cursing me and want me to die.
Can’t really blame them. They almost got blasted with a ball of fire that went rogue.
“Much farther range than expected,” the Grand Sage muses, completely nonplussed by the near-accident.
The strange metal brace on my wrist glints in the sunlight. It looks more like a prop from a sci-fi movie than a magical weapon. “Are you sure this is safe enough to test? I nearly turned three wolves into barbecue.”
The Grand Sage, lost in thought, mumbles, “Wolves aren’t traditionally cannibals.”
“I don’t think that’s the point.” Sometimes I wonder if his genius comes with a side of selective hearing. He’s always lost in his head.
He snaps back to attention. “Tell me again, what did you feel at the time of activation?”
I take a deep breath, trying to put the sensation into words. “It was like… a surge of uncontrollable power. Like using a chihuahua’s leash on a mastiff.”
The gnome’s fuzzy white eyebrows wiggle together, like two caterpillars turning into one. “I’m not familiar with your words.”
“Right, sorry.” I hold my hands about a foot apart. “Chihuahua, tiny dog.” Then I spread my arms wide. “Mastiff, huge dog. The leash is way too small to control it.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. Remember, you shouldn’t expect full control of the magic, just the ability to influence it.”
“Influence?” I scoff. “I nearly influenced it into killing innocent people.”
The Grand Sage waves his hand dismissively. “They should have stayed behind you.” He turns and shouts to the three wolves, “Stay behind her at all times!”
The men, who are actually my almost ill-fated bodyguards, adjust their positions with perfectly straight faces. I can’t tell if they’re amused or annoyed; just before this incident, the gnome had told them they were perfectly safe where they stood.
“Now,” my obsessive magitech inventor says, rubbing his hands together, “let’s try again. This time, focus on directing the energy rather than containing it.”
“Okay, but if I accidentally set the forest on fire, you’re explaining it to Ava.”
He chuckles. “Deal. Now, concentrate on the brace. You should feel some sort of magic when it activates.”
When I flip the switch on, it hums with energy, like a low level of electricity against my skin. It’s uncomfortable.
“I feel it,” I murmur.
“Good. Now, send your commands down. Remember to use your words. It will only work with the proper vocal commands.”
The brace on my wrist feels alien, yet strangely intimate. The Grand Sage explained that it’s attuned to me through my blood, but the specifics are lost on me. Magic and technology blend in ways I can’t begin to comprehend. All I know is that a part of me is now tied to this device, for better or worse.
“Standby,” I command, my voice steady despite my nerves.
The brace hums to life, warming against my skin. It’s not painful, but definitely uncomfortable—like wearing a heating pad cranked up too high.
“Good,” the Grand Sage nods approvingly. “Now, aim for that tree again.” He points to a massive oak a hundred yards away, well to the left of where my bodyguards had their near-death experience earlier.
I extend my arm, squinting as I try to line up the thin metal strip running along the brace with my target. It’s not exactly precision equipment, but I do my best.
“Shape,” I say clearly, remembering the proper command.
“Visualize it,” the Grand Sage reminds me, his voice eager. “Picture exactly what you want to create.”
I close my eyes for a moment, imagining a sleek, deadly arrow. Opening them, I take a deep breath and give the final command:
“Fire.”
Nothing happens. The warmth against my skin fades, and the brace goes silent.
“Hmm,” the Grand Sage mutters, already fiddling with the device while it’s still on my wrist. His gnomish fingers work with surprising dexterity, opening panels I didn’t even know existed. “Ah, I see. It needs more blood. Fuel’s empty.”
I groan. “Seriously? Again?”
He shrugs, unperturbed. “Trial and error, my dear. It’s all part of the process.”
Sighing, I watch as he produces a small needle. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
The prick is sharp but quick. I squeeze my finger, letting ten drops of blood fall onto a small red crystal nestled within the brace. It glows faintly as it absorbs the offering.
“There we go,” the Grand Sage says, closing everything back up. “Now, let’s try again.”
I nod, steeling myself. “Standby.”
The familiar warmth returns, stronger this time. I aim carefully, picturing the arrow in my mind.
“Shape.”
“Fire.”
This time, there’s a rush of energy. A small, glowing arrow materializes and shoots forward. It’s not the massive fireball from earlier, but it’s still impressive. My excitement is short-lived, however, as the arrow falls short, embedding itself in the ground several feet before the target tree.
The Grand Sage doesn’t seem disappointed. He scribbles in a notebook, muttering, “Approximate 50-foot range. Interesting.”
I lower my arm, feeling a mix of accomplishment and frustration. “Well, at least I didn’t almost kill someone this time.”
“It is progress,” he agrees. “How did it feel this time? With your chihoohas and massives?”
“Chihuahuas and mastiffs.” Correcting him has become an ingrained habit. “It didn’t overwhelm me. I just felt it when it went through.”
“Hmm. Yes, it appears that your intent does matter quite a bit. Very interesting.”
I take aim at the tree again, willing the brace to cooperate. “Standby.”
The familiar warmth spreads through my arm. “Shape.”
This time, I picture a ball of energy in my mind. “Fire.”
A glowing sphere materializes and hurtles forward. It falls short, dissipating harmlessly in the air. Frustration bubbles up inside me, but I push it down. Progress is progress, right?
“Again,” the Grand Sage urges, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
I nod, refocusing. “Standby. Shape. Fire.”