Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted

LISA

Lately, the Grand Sage has been buried deep in his magic energy flux capacitor thingamajig research, insisting there has to be a way to create a renewable energy source. Which is why he's the last person I expect to see when a knock raps against the door of Kellan's cabin.

Our cabin now, I guess.

"Grand Sage?" A little flummoxed, I open the door wider. "Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually."

"Bring your brace and come with me." The Grand Sage bounces on his toes, his eyes bright with that manic gleam he gets when he's made a breakthrough. "I've had an idea."

"Right now?" I glance at the clock, despite already knowing what time it is. "I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Indeed, now would be preferable."

"It's freezing outside."

He stops bouncing, looking at me over the rim of his glasses as if I'm a recalcitrant child. "It has been well below freezing for months, child."

He has a point.
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I grab my heavy coat and boots, knowing better than to argue when he's this excited. The brace is easy to find; it sits on my bedside table. "Should I be worried?"

"No, no. Well. Perhaps a little. It's somewhat unorthodox."

Those words from the Grand Sage have the uncanny ability to send chlls down my spine. I'm incredibly fond of this short little man and his eccentricities, but there are definitely things I've come to understand about gnomes.

Like, they don't understand the limitations of a human body.

And sometimes they don't really think of humans like people. Not in a bad way, but in like… I don't know. A sciencey way.

"Define unorthodox," I say, with a lot of foreboding.

He trudges along the worn-down paths in the snow, slipping on occasion. The gnomes don't have anything that really fit them; his coat is too large, even though it's sized for children. He looks funny as he walks. Like a kid, but with white hair and a long beard.

"I believe I've found a way to increase the efficiency of your brace. It involves quartz stones—a matched pair. A linked pair, to be precise."

So far, it doesn't sound terrible. "Okay..."

"One would be embedded in your upper arm."

I stop walking. "Embedded?"

"Yes, and the other in the brace. The stone in your arm would draw power directly from your blood's magic and feed it to its twin in the brace."

"Like a wireless charger," I mutter, thinking of my phone.

"A what?"

"Never mind." My brain returns to the most important thing. "What exactly do you mean by embedded in my arm?"

"Ah." He tugs at his beard. "That's actually why we're heading to the hospital. I need to consult with someone who understands human physiology better than I do. I'm not entirely certain it would work with a human body." He ushers me forward, and I follow blankly, not really thinking about what I'm doing.

"But it would work with someone else?"

"Oh yes. The Fae used to do this quite regularly—those at the highest ranks would have jewels embedded within their bodies. The most skilled gnome artisans would create these connections."

"If it was so great, why isn't it common now?"

His expression turns sheepish. "Very few possess the necessary skills to create such a connection. Knowledge lost in time, as it were."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Do you?"

"In theory." He straightens his tiny shoulders. "I've studied the old texts extensively."

Oh, hell no.

I'm all for helping this eccentric little old man figure out all his little research. I've shot fire at trees and nearly murdered my own guards—on accident, of course. The brace he's given me has literally saved my life.

But I absolutely will not be a part of some experimental body-modifying surgery. No, thank you.

"Absolutely not." I come to a screeching halt. "No. Nope. I'm not getting some bizarre rock put in my body over this theory."

His face falls. He's so devastated that for a moment I actually feel like I'm being unreasonable for telling him no.

"I thought this would be a great experiment. It would make it easier on you."

I shake my head. "I'll go with you to talk to whoever you want to talk to, but I'm drawing the line at putting anything inside my body. It's already weird enough that I have to drop my blood on a rock—"

"Quartz, actually."

"—in order to make this thing work. It still gives me the heebie jeebies that it can see inside my head. So, no. We won't be doing any surgery on me."

The Grand Sage's shoulders slump, and he lets out a heavy sigh. "Very well. I will not pressure you into any decision."

Relief floods through me. I follow him back along the path, grateful he's not pushing the issue. My arm itches under the brace—probably psychosomatic after all that talk of embedding things in my flesh.

The Grand Sage pauses, his white beard swaying as he turns his head. He does this twice more before we reach the hospital entrance.

"Something wrong?"

"The weather." He squints at the sky. "It doesn't appear as if a storm approaches, and yet..."

"And yet what?"

"There's one in the air."

I rub my wrist where the brace sits. "What, do you have some kind of built-in weather app in that gnome brain of yours?"

His frown deepens. "It's strange."

We enter the hospital's warmth, and I shake off the snow from my boots. "So who are we meeting with?"

"Oh." He tugs at his beard. "I haven't actually set up a meeting. I don't know anyone who works here."

Somehow, this lack of organization on his part is very him. He seems fastidious and well put-together, but he's used to having people manage his life for him.

"You dragged me out in the cold without even..." I press my fingers to my temples. "Never mind. Let me see what I can do."

He smiles. "I would appreciate that."

Approaching the receptionist's desk, I force a polite smile. "Hi there. Is Healer Vanessa working today?"

The receptionist's gaze slides over me like I'm something unpleasant stuck to her shoe. Pack or human? The curl of her lip suggests pack—that special brand of wolf superiority that makes me want to prove myself.

I'd flaunt my relationship with Kellan, but there isn't much to flaunt. Plus, it just makes me feel icky. Like I'm nothing more than a trophy wife or something.

Not that I'm a wife or anything.

Awkward.

"Healer Vanessa is busy with patients."

"Could you let her know I'm here? Just for a moment." My fingers tap against the brace under my coat sleeve; it feels cold and my skin is itching again. "It won't take long—"

A thunderous crash echoes from down the hall, followed by a sound that turns my blood to ice—a roar that's neither human nor wolf. I'm frozen in the precious seconds that follow, but the receptionist slams her hand on a red button.

"Security! Room 13!"

My guards materialize around me, a wall of muscle and protective instinct. One breaks formation, sprinting toward the commotion. Through gaps between bodies, I see Vanessa's form hurtle through the air, striking the wall with a sickening thud.

My heart stops beating for a second. Of all the people who could be involved, I somehow wasn't expecting it to be a friend.

She crumples, then forces herself up on shaking legs.

"Vanessa!" My throat burns with the force of my scream.

Pure chaos erupts as something emerges from the room—a wolf, but wrong. Its form ripples like living shadow, massive and impossible, with eyes that gleam with unnatural green light. The beast's growl vibrates through my chest as people scatter.

Wolves burst from human skin all around us, fur and fangs replacing uniforms. The shadow-wolf lunges, and I swear it almost feels gleeful.

Then iron hands grab my arms and drag me out of the hospital.

"Let me go!" I thrash against the grip of my grim guards as they haul me and the Grand Sage to safety. "Vanessa needs help! We can't just leave her!"

But my words are for naught. My safety is their only priority, and they inexorably drag me further. My struggles only ensure that one of them—no idea who the fuck he is—throws me over his shoulder. Another hauls the Grand Sage up like a toddler, one arm around his waist like he's a potato sack.

And then they run—away from the hospital, despite my protests.