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Shadow of the Wolf

By:Dana Marie Bell
Shadow of the Wolf
Dana Marie Bell

       Prologue


Christopher stared down at his preparations, mentally checking and rechecking each and every one.

All of the runes were aligned properly within the circle, spelling out  his intent. The incense was burning sweetly, its cinnamon scent filling  the air and making him think of home. The small fire he'd created in his  cauldron burned merrily. Colored candles were lit and placed in the  proper alignment. A rose for love and an iris for wisdom, stems braided  through an emerald ring sacred to Venus and used for this purpose for  generations, waited for him to begin the chant. Every item held a piece  of the spell. The words would merely cement it, bringing the pieces of  his magical puzzle together into one cohesive picture that would send  his call out into the world.

Everything was as it should be. Not one single thing was out of place, or forgotten.

He took a deep breath, mentally placing himself in the frame of mind necessary to cast the spell.

This was it, one of the defining moments of his life. His ancestor's  spell would determine the course of the rest of his life. He closed his  eyes, concentrating on his perfect mate. She should be of an older  lineage, someone born from power, with magic to complement his own. She  should be petite.

Christopher had a fondness for women who were smaller than he was. Hair  and eye color didn't matter to him, though he had a preference for  blondes. And she needed to be able to accept the one thing that set him  apart from most other wizards. That, more than anything else, was  important.

He was so very tired of being alone. Not even his brothers could ease  the loneliness that had begun to plague him. He fingered the blue piece  of paper waiting for the fire and visualized everything he hoped for.  Everything his soul cried out for.

He could feel the power building within him. He'd written down his  wishes in red ink, the color of passion, ready to be burned in the  cauldron.

Christopher reached into the pocket of his purple silk robe and pulled  out a wand crafted of oak, especially created just for this ritual. He  slipped the sheet into the flames, watching it catch fire before  dropping it into the cauldron. Raising his arms high, he began his  chant. The paper burned, and he concentrated with every ounce of will he  had on the meaning behind the words. Without intent, the words would be  useless, gibberish muttered in the dark.

"I call on forces higher than I,

To awaken the dreams that I hold inside.

Venus, grant me the love that I lack;

With this spell my mate attract!

This candle for her,

This candle for me.

When they touch,

United we'll be.

Kindle the love,

Kindle the flame,

When we meet, she'll know my name.



By the power of earth and fire,

Bring unto me my heart's desire.

By the power of air and sea,

As I will so mote it be."

As he chanted, two candles, both red, one carved with the symbol of  female, the other marked with the symbol for male and bearing a lock of  his hair, shifted slightly towards one another. Christopher fought his  smile.

The ritual was working.

Abruptly the candles stopped. He repeated the chant two more times,  invoking the power of three, and felt the spell settle in his bones. The  last of the paper burned to ash in a puff of red smoke, and Christopher  smiled triumphantly.

It had worked. His mate was coming to him. He would watch the candles.  When they touched, he would begin scrying for his mate, using the clear  crystal globe on his desk to show her image to him. Alasdair would alert  him when she came close to his property, passing the detection wards he  had in place. Now all he had to do was wait for her. He snorted, amused  now that the spell was done. He'd always waited for her and hadn't  known it until the howling loneliness threatened to en-gulf him. It had  taken a long talk with his father to show him exactly what was  happening, and what he could do to fix it. Once he'd touched the emerald  ring, all other possible options were put aside in favor of the one he  knew would work.

He needed the other half of his soul to finally be complete.

He carefully extinguished the rose candles, watching carefully until the  flames in the cauldron slowly died down. The incense he allowed to  burn, enjoying the scent of cinnamon. The runes and symbols he left  untouched. He would perform no other works until his mate was at his  side.

With a yawn and a satisfied smile, Christopher pulled off his robe and  hung it neatly on the peg by the door. It was late, just past midnight,  and he was in dire need of a run. He always felt pleasantly tired after  finishing a spell, like he'd given both his body and his mind a good  workout. Running would ease any last, lingering tension left behind,  leaving him pleasantly relaxed and ready for bed.

Opening the back door, he quickly reactivated the wards against  intruders. He stripped off his pants, shirt, shoes and socks, and laid  them carefully on the glass topped table on his stone patio. With a sigh  of relief, he allowed the change to take him, shaking his coat in  primal joy. His mate would be here soon, and he would no longer be a  lone wolf.                       
       
           



       

He ran into the darkness of the woods, unaware that the two candles had begun to inch closer together.





Chapter One


Lana banged her head repeatedly against the steering wheel of her car, muttering under her breath.

She turned the key for the umpteenth time with a swift prayer to the  Lady. Again, nothing happened, not even the grinding sound of the  starter. Her poor little Beetle had up and died in the middle of the  night on a deserted highway, with a thunderstorm threatening to break  over her head.

Wonderful. I get to be a cliché. It wouldn't be the first time her car  had broken down, and it probably wouldn't be the last, although she  could honestly say this was probably the worst time her car had ever  chosen to stop running. I really should just give up and get a new car.  Kerry, her best friend, had mentioned it that night at the bridal  shower, but she'd once again brushed off Kerry's concerns over the  clunker Lana drove. Usually when the Bug died on her she was able to get  it up and running again with a quick call to Triple-A and a stop at the  mechanics, not an option in East Bumblefuck, PA at two o'clock in the  morning. Keeping the Bug running was usually a labor of love.

Nothing quite like unrequited love, is there? She knew she wasn't out of  gas; she'd filled up just before leaving the small town the Naughty  Nights Club had been in. It couldn't be the alternator.

She'd just replaced that. And the starter was only six months old. The  car had died while running, so it couldn't be the battery. Could it?

Lana wasted a moment wishing Kerry had followed her, but her friend had  been flirting with a very hot male stripper, and Lana hadn't wanted to  interrupt. If she'd known that the small spike of un-ease she'd felt  just before heading out would lead to a broken-down car in the middle of  freaking nowhere, she would have plastered herself to Kerry's side. And  no matter how badly she wanted to, she couldn't just "zap" the Beetle  no matter how much she might want to. She stood a good chance of doing  even more damage that way. "Fixing" anything mechanical usually ended in  a disaster of epic proportions, especially since she had a bad tendency  to get angry when it didn't work. Anger and witchcraft just didn't mix  well.

And why the fuck had Kelly, Kerry's twin, picked some place so far off  the beaten path to have her bachelorette party anyway? Who heard of a  male strip club so far out in the boondocks? Kelly the Crazy, that's  who. She just hoped Kelly's fiancé didn't get wind of the lap dance  Kerry had bought for her, because odds were good it wouldn't be Kelly  who got into trouble. Dennis and Kerry got along about as well as dogs  and fleas. Kerry lived to annoy the straight-arrow Dennis, and Dennis  tolerated Kerry only for Kelly's sake.

One thing she could say about the man, he did love Kelly more than  anyone or anything. That, and the happiness she saw in her twin's eyes,  made Kerry much more pleasant than she could be towards the man. The  last guy Kelly had dated hadn't fared nearly so well. She'd put an  entire fifteen ounce bottle of Jean Naté after bath splash into the  man's Listerine.

It had gone downhill from there. Kerry had the pictures to prove it.

A shock of thunder caused her to jump. With a sigh, she pulled out her  cell phone. Hopefully she'd be able to get a tow truck despite the storm  and the late hour. Hell, if Kerry was still available, maybe Lana could  pry her away from the prime beef she'd been plastered to long enough to  lend a hand.

She flipped the phone open and stared at the distinct lack of phonage.  How could the battery be dead? The stupid thing was plugged in! Lana  made sure to keep it in the car charger …  She fumbled around, finally  finding the end of the cord in the pitch black car. Well, shit. The plug  was loose in the outlet. It may have been in the charger, but it sure  hadn't been charging.