Chapter 60

Ada!

I sit up with a jerk, rousing Ansel who seems to have drifted off. My stomach is doing somersaults.

“Something wrong,” Ansel asks, drowsily.

A flash of lightning brightens the sky. Behind it, is the rumble of thunder.

The driver, a portly man with silver hair, has just pulled up in front of the manor. He comes around to open our door, but Ansel is still watching me, waiting for my response.

“I’ll tell you when we get inside,” I say.

Ansel nods and we step out into a misty rain. The stars are blotted out with clouds.

The driver hands Ansel an opened umbrella.

“Thanks George,” Ansel says, and despite my distress, I catch the gleam in George’s eye as Ansel says his name. Ansel’s getting better and better at treating his staff like actual people. Who would have thought?

George breaks into a broad smile. “You’re welcome, Sir.” Another flash appears and fat raindrops begin to splatter down against the umbrella. We dash inside.

The manor, for once, is empty. Ansel holds my hand while we traipse through the dimly lit, hushed corridors without a word. In the quiet, I can hear rain pelting the roof and windows.

I’m struck by the eeriness of the building without the bustling staff. It’s heightened by the deafening silence I feel inside from Ada.

Ansel seems alert and on-guard. After we reach our room, he leans close to the dark glass of the bedroom window to look out at the growing storm. He draws the heavy, ruby-colored curtains closed, sniffs the air, and pauses. “Do you notice…” His voice drops off, and his brow is furrowed, as though he’s deep in thought.

“No. I don’t smell anything but the rain, and you, of course.”

His eyes lighten. “I hope you’re not suggesting I smell like a wet dog.”

“Not at all.”

He meets me by the side of the bed where I’m sitting down to kick off my shoes. He sits next to me and the tense, hypervigilance seems gone for now. “Something was wrong before we came in,” he says. “Will you tell me now?”

I swallow. I don’t want to tell him, don’t want to think that something is wrong, and worse, that maybe I’ve done something irreparable. What the loss of Ada could even begin to mean for my life, I don’t want to know. I begin to spiral.

Ansel catches my chin in his hand. “Karin.”

I meet his eyes. “Something’s wrong with Ada,” I spit out. “She won’t speak, or move, even. What if she’s dying? What if I’ve severed our connection -”

Ansel cuts me off. “Hang on,” he says. “Jeff would have - “ Ansel pauses and I can tell he’s talking with his own wolf.

“She’s not dying, Karin, and I don’t think that you’ve been severed, yet.”

“Yet?!”

“I don’t know. Jeff seems to think she’s grown despondent. Maybe weak. It’s not a great night for her - or him - anyway. New moon, you know - “

“But I’ve been training with Maggie,” I say. My voice takes on an angry whine, directed more at Ada than at Ansel.

Come on, Ada.

I want to urge her, to gosh, poke at her with a stick if I could. I also feel relieved that Jeff doesn’t pick up on any immediate risk.

“I thought things were getting better,” I say.

“Talk to her,” Ansel says. He’s still as he watches me.

Ada.

It’s as if I’m on a phone line by myself. I can practically hear the proverbial busy signal.

Is it about earlier? I couldn’t let you hurt Ansel’s brother.

“Anything,” Ansel asks.

I sigh.

I know I push you away a lot. I know I don’t really lean into my wolf side.

“I think,” I say to Ansel. “If I’m really being honest with myself, I think I’ve kept her pretty suppressed for a long time. To the point that, I notice her most when I’m really heightened emotionally. Otherwise, I’m not good about listening to her, or consulting with her, and definitely not letting her play an equal role.”

As it tumbles out, I’m feeling more and more upset at myself for allowing this to happen. I throw myself back against the bed in a huff.

Ansel nods. “It’s hard. Jeff and I battle it out sometimes, but the warrior role gives him some room to play. You’ll figure out how to strike a balance. When you let her, I think you’ll appreciate her deep intuition and she’ll be an important guide.”

I stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin slowly. Ada and I were once, very in-tune. The first crack formed when I left Ansel five years ago. I didn’t devastate just Ansel, I realize.

Ansel put his hand on my thigh, waking me from my reflection.

“What else happened tonight? What was that with my brother?” Ansel’s face has shifted back into a stern and watchful sort of expression as he studies me closely.

I take a deep breath and recount what happened at the ball. Not long into it, Ansel is standing up, pacing around, and yanking the bowtie of his tux off as if it’s choking him.

He aggressively tears loose the collar of his shirt and then sinks into a golden, tufted wingback across from the bed. He looks drained.

“It’s okay, Ansel,” I say, wanting to comfort him. I’m taken aback by his reaction. I’d expected for him to fly into a rage, to struggle to keep Jeff bound inside him. Instead, he seems defeated.

“It’s not okay,” Ansel says tersely, and then I see Jeff’s yellow eyes. This comforts me a little, although he’s still not himself.

I trace a seam of my dress with my fingers. “I mean, I was able to defend myself. He was visibly frightened and he backed off.”

Thanks to you, Ada.

“Lucky for him that he did,” Ansel glowered. He ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t underestimate you and Ada. Not for a minute. Now, he won’t underestimate you, either. It’s… it’s not just worry about you, although there’s plenty of that… It’s rage, disgust of him, and there are other layers there, and deeper than you could know. It’s a fucking Shakespeare level of villainy and betrayal that’s been playing out my entire life.”

‘Deeper than you know.’ I think, with a rising wave of sadness.

Immediately, I avert my eyes. I stand to undress. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Ansel.

“What’s wrong? Is it Ada?”

“She’s the same,” I say, swallowing the pit of worry for her. I fold my dress loosely in half and lay it against the chair.

I’m standing in just my underwear and bra. I shiver in the draft. I can hear that the wind has picked up outside. Ansel pulls me to him.

“She’ll be alright,” he whispers. “We’ll sort it all out... Edwin, too,” he says with an edge in his voice.

Ansel’s body is warm against me. Too warm. I reach up to feel his forehead.

“You feel feverish to me.”

Ansel pulls away. “I’m fine.” He begins to remove his shoes and shirt.

“When did you start feeling bad,” I ask.

I startle as the lightning cracks so loudly it’s as though it’s in the room with us. It rattles the window and seems to shake the whole room. The electricity flickers off and back on.

“Some storm, hmm? I don’t feel bad. Let’s just get some rest.”

Ansel is asleep quickly. I listen to him breathe for a while. I listen to wind whip through the trees and the rain pound against the building, until some time into the night, it all finally begins to come to a slow to a gentle, steady hum.

I’ve just had one of the best nights of my life, but…

Ada.

Dead air. It makes my stomach hurt.

Next to me, Ansel moans softly.

I turn over to him. He’s still asleep. Careful not to wake him, I lay my hand up against his forehead. His skin feels hot and clammy.

I flash to his seventeen year-old face. Glassy eyes with shadows underneath. Pale face and hollowed cheekbones.

‘He’s okay,’ I remind myself. ‘It’s just a fever.’

Then why do I feel so uneasy?