Rejected Mate and Following Fate

We move fast, making light work of scaling the stairs, getting through the house and down into the secret passage to the
underground via the library nook that used to be Colton’s and I’s bedroom. Just seeing this room, free of our things and our bed,
almost breaks me in two. My soul throbbing with the loss of his presence and the knowing I won’t be able to see or touch him
until we do something about this curse.
I feel like he’s gone somehow, that I’ve lost him to something I don’t know how to fight and this room where we began, where he
first marked me, stabs deep into my heart and soul and wounds me to the core. My anxiety and pain rising up like bile in my
throat that threatens to choke me and I have to heavily inhale to push all the chaos down to my inner depths to stay calm. I stifle
a sob as Sierra pulls back the concealed door behind where the bed used to sit, and Meadow grasps my hand in comfort, her
own face ashen and stiff.
“We will save them. We have to. They’re our pack, our mates...our hearts. We’ll bring them home, back where they belong. With
us!” Meadow can feel, and shares, my devastation and it’s mirrored back at me, not only visually, but in her emotions swirling
around me. I nod tearfully and cling to her fingers as we follow Sierra down into the dark musty passage that stings my nose with
its aged smell, and I blink away the dust of centuries of sleeping airless surroundings.
With a click of her fingers, she ignites the wall mounted blue flamed torches around us to an eerie glow, lit by her magic, it
illuminates the winding narrow passageway as we make our way beneath the homestead to the secret rooms below which feel
unearthly and icy. This almost dungeon like lair has always fascinated me but yet always scared me too so Colton usually only
comes here with her as I tend to avoid it.
It has an aura, an ambience of unease. Like it harnesses so many souls of the past with so much power and energy in its
confines in the ground below the house. I can almost feel the eyes of spirits taking note as we venture in and it raises all the
hairs across my skin as I goosebump in reaction. The room is large and dull, despite the many candles flickering with that
familiar witchy blue that makes me think of Colton, and I dart my eyes to take in the room and shake him from my head. If I let
him linger then I won’t find the strength to carry on.
The shelves are formed from ceiling to floor on every wall, crammed with generations of spell books, and a vast array of potions
and bottles, and weird things in jars. Nothing touched by age as this room magically stays sealed to any form of interference
when not in use and you can only come in here with a gifted touch. Witch blood is needed to open the door and light the torches.
You can’t get in otherwise, so I presume much like our rune border, this has some kind of protective spell holding it timeless and
still as the years tick by.

“Don’t touch any books unless I hand them to you. Grimoires are special and can bite. You need a witch’s permission to touch
one.” Sierra makes haste and lifts two huge leather bound books from a low shelf, handing one to me and one to Meadow,
nodding towards the long center table that looks like it’s had much use over the years. It has stools tucked in all around each
side and the worn imprint of many decades of witches sitting here to browse and learn from these ancient texts. Sierra told me
that when her family was plentiful and had many offspring, they used this room as a witch school and taught them everything
about their own gifts. Sierra came here as a child to learn about her gifts too but as she was the last of her bloodline, it was left to
sit quietly alone and wait for a new purpose.
I take my book to one end of the roughened, stained, dark surface and lay it down carefully. A huge old somewhat unidentifiable
book, bound expertly, and strangely ornate. I flick it open to reveal the pages inside which are yellowed and worn along the
edges, some are splattered with drops and smudges that hints at a great many uses. Handwritten in black ink in a beautiful
scroll, mostly English, but it varies. My Spanish sucks and this is a bilingual spell book pushing more to the other language than
my own.
“I can’t read this.” I point out, lifting my eyes to settle on Sierra who seems to be looking along the rows for a specific book
herself and she turns to me with a patient smile.
“Grimoires are enchanted.... don’t look...feel. Ask the book to help you, push your emotion to its very core. See what it gives
you.” Sierra nods at us before bringing her armful of six smaller books to the table and pulls out a stool to begin with her own
search. She looks as determined as Meadow does, who already has her pages flicking fast and furiously as she scans the
words. Meadow lifts her chin and frowns at me as though she thinks Sierra is a bit mental for telling us to feel rather than read
the pages and I shrug, telling her to do as she asks. I stare down at my book and focus all my thoughts and energy on a little
faith.
Please show me how to help bring my pack home. How to bring my mate back to me. I utter the words inside my head and lay
my palms flat on the open pages. Sighing as I do so and jump as the edge of the next page lifts and tries to move under my
restrictive hold. I yank my hands back in shock that it actually made it do something and watch in awe and horror as the pages
begin to flip over in this windless room. They move fast as though caught in the throes of a gust of vicious wind and seem to
hasten as it progresses. I swallow down my saliva and choke on the sudden dryness of my mouth.
Even though I have been around witchcraft and seen Sierra and Colton practicing together, this still is an alien sight to me, and I
recoil and muffle a gasp as it flips harder and harder. Picking up speed like it might fly off the table at any second, getting halfway
through the book before the pages fall open with an almighty thud that makes me flinch and jump.

Sierra scrapes her chair across the floor quickly and comes to me, obviously excited that the first book I tried gave me some sort
of answer. She seems oblivious to how abnormal this is, and I wonder at how often she has seen a book do this with wide eyed
wariness.
The two pages open in front of me are in some foreign language I don’t recognize, not Spanish, and I squint at it and lean closer
in a bid to understand. They look like symbols of some sort and cover the pages fully, all over, some even running up the edge
and not following regular lines of a book.
“What are they?” I ask quizzically as Sierra leans and scrolls her fingers along the inky decorative images. Meadow gets up and
comes to peer over my shoulder and we fall silent as Sierra focuses.
“Runes. Some sigils. Much like what are etched into the stones buried around our land. Protection.... mostly about keeping
things out. I don’t understand why this.....” She sighs and turns the book to face her to get a better look. Seemingly unsure why
of all the pages, this one seems to want us to read it. Her expression falls a little with obvious disappointment that she doesn’t
seem to be finding the answers we need.
“So it’s the spell to make the rune border?” Meadow interjects flatly, probably also wondering how this is meant to help us now,
and Sierra nods, shrugging with confusion that the book would show us this. It’s not exactly useful given our pack are already
bewitched on the other side of it.
“Maybe it wants us to reinforce the border? Maybe it’s a sign we should be focusing on protecting ourselves first, maybe another
spell is coming.” I blow out air in frustration, clawing for reasons and Sierra squints and leans into the book to read it for a second
time. Her brow furrowing harshly and her mouth pinches up, making it obvious she really wants to see more than just that.
“No, the runes don’t fade. The spell will outlast all of us and for the time being we don’t want to extend it, although now we know
we can..... I just don’t.... wait! Of course!!” Sierra’s hands fly to her mouth as she covers a gasp that escapes loudly, and she
throws us a wide eyed look.
“What?” Meadow almost snaps impulsively, startled by her gesture and I begin tapping my foot on the floor as anxiety overtakes
me. My blood rushing to warm my skin with her sudden outburst.
“It’s not the spell.... it’s who wrote it. She’s a witch.” Sierra turns the book, sliding its heaviness around to face us again and taps
at the bottom right of the second page somewhat excitedly; at a little symbol that looks like it was burned into the page with hot
metal. It’s tiny, a small flowing L and C surrounded by a vine design that wrap it into one continuous form and is unusually pretty.

“You know this witch? She’s alive... I don’t understand?” I point out knowing the runes predate even Sierra’s father and as
witch’s have human life spans then it’s probably not reasonable to think she lives still. Meadow sits down on the stool next to me,
her energy wavering as she too comes to the same conclusion and I’m engulfed with her extreme sadness and stress. Her mind
on her mate, much like mine is, and desperate for Sierra to explain seeing as she has latched onto this ray of hope, or whatever
it is.
“Leyanne Cruden... And oh yes, she’s alive, unless in the last eight years someone figured out how to kill an immortal witch who
has lived for thousands of years. She’s not like any witch you will ever meet. She wrote this spell for my ancestors to protect
themselves and much like everything she does, it’s powerful, flawless, and unbreakable. Much like her. She’s the most powerful
witch I have ever known.” Sierra’s awe and deep respect for this person shines through her words, her face flushing slightly and
there’s a new light of something in her eyes. Dare I say she has found a reason to hope.
“Immortal? Witches only have human life spans. What if she is the one behind the fog? You said no witch could pull off that
spell...could she? Can we trust this Bruja” Meadow interjects, a hint of doubt and fear rising in her voice as my mind falls in line
with hers. And I wonder if the witch who wrote our protection spell could remove it and let the fog in among the rest of my people
if we are stupid enough to let her in here.
“No...Leyanne would never choose a side and take such drastic action. She is all for preserving the species, of all kinds. She
wouldn’t choose to get on side to rid the world of wolves. She’s an ally. She isn’t bound by a coven or any kind of higher power
like most witches. She used to be part of the high council before she even walked away from that. She’s solitary and marches to
her own beat, and yes, immortal. She’s over three thousand years old, give or take and no one knows exactly why. Rumor has it
her father is some sort of druid lord, and they’re immortal beings. Sorcerers.” Sierra strokes the imprinted insignia lovingly, her
face aglow with new light and I glance at her then meadow, so torn in how to feel.
“So, we have some unkillable, all powerful Sister, walking around with the ability to create unbreakable spells and throw her
power around? And we’re only hearing of her now? Where is she, how do we find her?” Meadow props one hand on the table to
slide her fingers under her chin, her other hand waving that finger in the air, with a sassy tone that hints at a mix of disbelief and
lack of trust that this is the answer to our problems. Sierra ignores the underlying attitude and beams our way.
“Scotland.... well, maybe. She travels a lot. But she’s Scottish.”
“Scotland! Are you kidding? That’s almost the other side of the world. How the hell are we supposed to get in touch? I balk. “Do
you think she has Facebook? Do witches social network? A cell number....an email?” I sigh in defeat and rub my fingers on my
temples to try and combat the brewing stress migraine and exhale heavily. My body heavy, and tired, and everything in me is

starting to ache. What I wouldn’t give for Colton to stroll in and take command like he always does, and I bite down the urge to
cry with the need for his presence.
“No. But we do have other means to find out where someone is, providing they aren’t hiding from sight. Witches have ways and
means.” Sierra closes the book as though she now realizes we never needed that damn page and fixes her gaze on my slump
posture, reaching out a loving hand to comfort me.
“Explain?” Meadow cuts in sharply. Getting inpatient.
“Locator spell. Normally we need a person’s belonging to enchant but we have a room full of books where she added her own
spells. We have items she gifted my ancestors, and we have this.” Sierra moves off to a wall of bottles and pulls out one small
vial with a glowing white liquid that sparkles like liquid glitter. It looks like a fake bottle for a children’s fairy costume and I can’t
even imagine what it’s meant to be for.
“What is that?” I blink at it, lifting myself up to sit upright once more and push off my fatigue and despair, as the soft glow
illuminates the space around it, and she lays it on the table. Acting like it’s made of precious and fragile crystal.
“It’s an elixir, which contains Leyanne’s own tears. She made it for my grandmother when she needed ailment. I’m not sure what
it does, but I used to play with this because it’s so pretty and was scolded so many times. A witch’s tears are a powerful thing
and they only gift them to people they trust.” Sierra touches it once more, lovingly, and then retracts her hands and stares at it as
though somehow it will magically transform into something amazing. I just see a bottle of liquid glitter and sigh again.
“So what do we do with it, how do we ‘locate’ her.” I ask tentatively, air emphasizing the word with my fingers. Sierra sighs and
presses her palms to her chest, over her heart.
“We find the book which tells us how to perform a locator spell. It’s been nine years since I used it and it’s rusty. I used it to find
out where you were being cared for, Alora.” She smiles softly at me and I blanche as I click on what she means exactly. The
night Sierra crept into my room to bind us for eternity and protect me from Juan. She used a spell to know exactly where I was
that night and now that’s the same spell we need to find this witch. A vague feeling of full circle claws at the back of my mind and
the fates flicker through my head in weird kinds of ways. I can’t help but wonder if this is relevant.
“So tell us what the book looks like and we look.” Meadow interrupts my moment of reverie, on her feet and ready to do
something more than sitting here and I nod in agreement. Sliding up from my own chair to get busy.
“It’s green, large like this one, with a dark vine wrapped around to keep it shut. Leyanne is a witch of nature so it suits. It’s where
I learned the spell and I know it’s here. No one ever removes the books, not that they can. The stairwell won’t let a book pass

upwards so it will be here wherever I left it.”
“Hmm, okay.... Let’s look.” Meadow jumps to it and starts trawling the lined cases all around us and I follow suit. Moving to the
ones behind me and I start passing my fingers along the shelves gently, making sure not to actually touch them, something
tugging me to my left, and I let it guide me. Like an inner instinct, deep in my belly or my gut and I look that way in response of
whatever is urging me onwards.
Sticking out slightly more than the others on a low shelf, almost concealed by shadow because of where it sits, I spot a green
book and go to it immediately.
“This?” I call out to Sierra, pointing down and she looks around and gasps in glee.
“If I didn’t know better I would think you’re part witch. The books are calling to you as though you are.” She beams at me joyfully
and I frown it away and go back to the table as she slides it free. Remembering we can’t touch without her say so and eager to
get this done. Sierra brings it to the table and flicks through quickly, finding a dog-eared page and Meadow eye rolls dramatically.
Slumping onto her own seat and making a show of her extreme disapproval.
“You bent the corner? Who does that, especially not hundred-year-old magical books? What is wrong with you?” her obvious
distaste and disgust is heavy in her tone and that glare is not very respectful towards her Rema. I giggle at Meds, an argument
we have had in the house library many times and it warms me out of my cold sadness for a few seconds. She believes in the
sanctity of books and keeping them pristine, while I’m a page folder to keep my place and it drives her crazy.
“I did not. It’s how I found it.” Sierra retorts sharply, eyeing her up as though she’s just been incredibly rude, accusing her of a
heinous crime and scans the words quickly, nodding to herself as it refreshes her memory. A little flick of recognition going off in
the depths of her eyes as a small smile relaxes her pretty face.
“Okay, we need a map of the world, seeing as we are looking much further than I ever had to. There’s one on that wall, bring it.”
She nods to Meadow who obediently goes and takes down a large, aged print of the world, in one clear space of wall by the stair
way door. Sierra pulls off the long necklace she wears daily, a chain that almost reaches her waist and a pointed quartz crystal
that hangs from it, pulling the chain together and holding it halfway down so the crystal swings freely. Meadow lays the map out
on the table and I move our books to accommodate its large size.
Sierra carefully opens the little vial and dips the very tip of her stone into it before closing it back up and laying it aside gently.
She is careful not to touch her stone again and lets it hang over the map and still by itself as she concentrates and regulates her
breathing to keep her hand steady.

“Bring those candles all four from there. One on each corner of the map.” She points at a bookcase behind me with a nod and I
quickly move to collect four tapered candles in silver holders from the shelf and put them on the table. Moving them to the
corners and I can reach and handing Meadow the other two to lay out for me. Sierra clicks her fingers and all four light
immediately, with blue flame much like the passageway and lighting in here. She holds her pendulum still over the center of the
map, closes her eyes as her hands begin to glow blue and travel up as far as her elbows. She stays motionless and still as a
statue as she softly utters the words with a faint breath that we almost don’t hear.
“Oportet te invenire me, quod mea proposito.
Super terram, mare caeli spatium non habet terminum.
Dirige manus, trahere lux mea, et in offuscatione.
Unus enim fas est inveniet te debere ostendere.”
Her words are haunting, foreign, and as she utters the very last one, the blue light travels down the chain of her stone and lights
it up like a bright beacon that scalds my eyes and I squint to adjust to its brightness. The tip that was dipped in the potion turns a
brazen green and the pendulum starts swinging freely of its own accord as though it’s caught by a sudden gust and seems to tug
Sierra across the map.
She opens her eyes but keeps her hand steady as the chain manipulates itself and tugs the stone towards a part of the world to
her left. She follows gently, allowing it to guide her as though somehow, it’s now a little life of its own, a dog on a leash pulling it’s
master home with impressive strength for such a feeble little object.
We watch in awe as it tugs her until it reaches the American states and draws up nearer to where we are in the north, pulling up
past the border. It lingers around New Mexico before pulling the tip down and planting with an aggressive dip on an area within
that section of the map. It’s just left off the center of New Mexico on this map and at least in our part of the world and not
overseas in Scotland!
“She’s not that far. That’s like a seven-hour drive if we don’t stop.” Meadow chimes in, squinting at the map carefully and
obviously a little frustrated we don’t have a more specific and detailed map to get a more precise location. We have a vague spot
on a map that condenses the entire world and she’s right. Arizona to New Mexico is not that far but we will have to drive.
“The biggest problem is getting out past the fog.” I point out and Meadow frowns, taking a moment to think hard and then
focuses on me with a very serious expression.

“Your powers, you can clear a path until we get out. Hopefully the fog isn’t widespread. That means you and I, chica, we have to
go together.” I quiet and think of what she says, seeing the possibility in it and nod as I agree without hesitation.
“It’s too dangerous. You can’t go out there. The pack is circling its own people ready to take on any of you who ventureout. What
about vampires? Or the witch that did this?” Sierra grasps my hand and clings on tight, painfully so, gripping my fingers with
white fierceness, eyes washing with instant tears and fear, and her light of hope seems to vanish in the reality that I might go out
and not return either. She sees me as her second child and her intense maternal need to protect me almost chokes me half to
death as I feed from her panic.
“If we don’t then how else are we supposed to save them? We can’t wait on the spell ending, because it might never. Are we
supposed to leave them out there, like they’re dead? What about when we run out of supplies, or the witch finds a way to breach
our border?” I respond anxiously, trying to keep my voice steady and patient as though dealing with a fearful and fragile child.
Knowing that she’s right and it’s not safe but at the same time, it’s our only solution so far. I can’t live without Colton, even if he’s
close and cursed for an eternity. I can’t live with my pack in a zombified state of feral, pacing our borders with a bloodlust against
our own kind.
“There has to be another way. Maybe that’s not what the book meant. Maybe I’m wrong.” Sierra releases me and goes back to
yanking books to her, a look of pain on her face, determination to find a different path as tears fill her eyes while flicking through
them somewhat erratically.
“You said the books will give an answer. And they did. If she’s as powerful as you say, then we have to do this. It can’t be a
coincidence that a Scottish witch is seven hours away from us when we need her. That the book jumped to her name, and the
bottle so freely dragged us to where she is. Maybe the fates are pushing us to her?” I point out. Afraid that what we’re about to
do is not safe but determined to save Colton and bring him home. To save Cesar, the subs and my extended pack. I once
doubted the fates and yet they never abandoned me. They brought me to her, to my new home, to my love, and so many
answers I never knew I needed before. They brought me to position of Luna and I have learned to never judge, doubt, or ask
questions when the fates are showing me a path I may not understand.
“The fog, Alora.” Sierra despairs, but this time it’s Meadow who chimes in. Her own face set with a stubborn air, knowing this is
what we need to do.
“And the only way we can think so far to get rid of it and take its power away, is right here in front of us.” She taps on the little
symbol of Leyanne Cruden’s mark in the book beside the locator spell and narrows her eyes. “Can you take it away? Break the
spell? Can we? No, nosotras no podemos so we go get someone who can.” Meadow is in harsh mode, that version that often

talks sense into me when I am dwindling. The commander who stands by Colton’s side and I see a return of some of her fierce
now she has her sights set of doing something to undo what’s happened.
I lean over to grasp Sierra’s hand and as I pass the vial close by my wrist, where she left it, it starts to glow crazily bright so that
it instantly stings my eyes and I gasp and recoil.
“What the hell?” Meadow and I sing out in unison and Sierra slumps down and cradles her face. A whimper of agony as fresh
tears roll down her face and she seems instantly defeated.
“The potion is calling out to its maker.... you need to take it with you. It’s a token of proof. That you come from this home and this
bloodline. It’s a sign Alora, that the book was right, and we shouldn’t argue. It’s our answer.... even if I don’t want it to be so.”
She cries softly into her palms and my heart pines for her, feeling the despair and knowing the why. I know there is only fear and
genuine concern at its root, because she doesn’t do well with danger or loss since she woke. She’s afraid that I won’t come
back, in the same way Colton hasn’t and she can’t bear it. Sierra isn’t as strong as she once was and the thought of the people
she loves leaving her is something she is working on.
“Colton can’t come home to us unless we do. And all three of us will be together again. Don’t cry for what needs to be done.
Look after our people, be their Luna in my absence. We will only be a couple of days.” I move to her and wrap my arm around
her shoulder, rubbing her delicate frame and wishing I knew how better to take away her heartache and terror for what must be
done.
“No, I should come.” She tries in a last attempt to cling to me but I only shake my head looking for a way to explain why she
needs to stay. I need her to stay here and be safe, for my own sanity.
“We should keep our entourage to a minimum. Maybe just the two of us. We are what’s left of the strongest and with our powers
combined we should be okay. Someone needs to lead the people and keep them sane.” Meadow tries to reinforce my decisions,
voices what I don’t know how to explain, and Sierra stifles a sob loudly. Lifting up to turn and cling to me with a possessive hug
around my body,
“Travel only by day, find a place to stay safe at night, never out there. Go to human places where the vampires won’t stray.
Maybe there’s a way to use the protection spell on a vehicle, create a safe transport. Go fast, be swift, and then come home the
same way as quickly as you can. Take no chances.” She urges us with a desperate begging in her eye, her face awash with
warm tears that I try to wipe away, and I nod. Exhaling slowly so as not to let her feel the depths of my own worry and
nervousness about how dangerous this trip may be.

“We have some preparing to do and we need to find a better map to narrow down our route, to at least a town. I want us to be
ready to go by the next dawn. There’s no point in delaying this. I need my mate back, we need our alpha, and god knows we
need our pack.” I state with determination and Meds agrees. Standing as though to make it clear we have things to go plan, start
readying and it energizes the air around us with a new sense of purpose.
“Yes Luna, let’s get to it.”