Legacy Awakened Read online

  Legacy Awakened

  Tamar Sloan

  Copyright © 2018 by Tamar Sloan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To the readers who fell in love with this series -

  Michel, Tonya, Tony, and so many more.

  Oh, and to Sean…

  Contents

  1. Ava

  2. Ava

  3. Ava

  4. Hunter

  5. Hunter

  6. Ava

  7. Ava

  8. Ava

  9. Hunter

  10. Hunter

  11. Ava

  12. Ava

  13. Ava

  14. Hunter

  15. Hunter

  16. Ava

  17. Ava

  18. Ava

  19. Hunter

  20. Hunter

  21. Ava

  22. Ava

  23. Ava

  24. Hunter

  25. Hunter

  26. Ava

  27. Ava

  28. Ava

  29. Hunter

  30. Hunter

  31. Ava

  32. Ava

  33. Ava

  34. Hunter

  The Epic Love Story Continues

  Let’s Connect

  About the Author

  Also by Tamar Sloan

  Ava

  "He's close." My mother hoists the bulky vet pack further up her shoulder, a frown in her voice.

  Almost two decades of culling has meant the wolves are shy, their natural inclination to avoid humans so dialed up that it's rare to see a wolf in the wild. The reality is the ones who learned this lesson, and learned it fast, are the ones who survived.

  Which is why it's all the more surprising that Achak isn't far from the Glade.

  Dad narrows his eyes, his Were nostrils flaring. "Yep, I can smell him."

  I've sensed Achak, the alpha male of this wolf pack, too. Our connection meant that our thread started pulsing the minute we climbed out of the car.

  Our thread, the shimmery, gossamer fibers that no one else sees, is one of the strongest I have with any animal. I was there when he was born—he was one of the first litters in the captive breeding program desperately working to save these wonderful creatures. I helped coax milk down his baby wolf throat when his mother died. His sister has become an ambassador for their plight, a placid, tame beauty that humans can touch and pet and discover exactly how unthreatening they are. Despite this, Achak left for the woods the minute the gates of his crate opened, the need to be away from the same species who caused his endangered status too strong.

  That hasn't stopped me from visiting him regularly.

  At first, it was because I was fascinated but also worried. The threads we all have, the ones that are living proof of how connected we all are, are becoming weaker and weaker between humans and wolves. And I knew that wasn't good. But then I discovered how our threads strengthen with time and contact. Maybe it's the Fae in me, drawn to our natural world. Maybe it's the dash of Were, sensing a kindred spirit. I doubt it's my human genes, for they’re the very ones trying to exterminate these beauties. Either way, roaming these forests, Achak and his pack loping at my side, has created some of the most special memories in my seventeen years.

  Achak looks like he's pacing amongst the trees. Mom frowns. "Symptoms?"

  "Hoarse bark, a bit drooly," I remember the pacing that he couldn't seem to stop when I was here yesterday. "He just seemed…off."

  Dad angles his head, eyes staying narrowed. "A wolf cold?"

  I glance at Mom. Although I have the Fae connection to animals, I've never had the drive to be a vet. I know the procedures and surgeries are for the ultimate good of the animal, but I can't bring myself to hurt them. Which means I have no idea if there's such thing as canine flu.

  "Maybe." But Mom doesn't sound convinced. "We'll take some blood if we have to. His annual health check was due soon anyway."

  Without warning, Achak slips forward from between the trees and stands there. Tall and broad, shades of grey and depths of red, he is magnificent.

  Not as magnificent as my wolf…

  I quickly glance at Dad, glad the hitch in my chest doesn't translate to a blush. No one knows about my wolf because no one shares my dreams. I've thought of telling Mom or Dad or my cousin Joshua many times, but something has always stopped me.

  Maybe because they'll try to tell me he's not real.

  Dad glances back, his blue eyes curious. Pushing away thoughts of shimmery, beautiful animals that I know aren't imaginary, I turn back to the trees. "I told you he was acting strange."

  Dad's gaze is already focused back on Achak. "They don't normally come this close to the Glade."

  Achak pauses at the edge of the trees, watching us. The growl that powers over the clearing has us all stilling. I've never heard him growl while looking in my direction.

  He starts pacing again, several loping steps to the right, before tracking back, zigzagging at the edge of the trees. From here I can see the line of white froth circling his panting mouth.

  It was a two-hour hike to find him yesterday. Now, it's like he's waiting for us.

  My body tightens, not understanding why the back-off signals are being thrown our way. Is it because Dad’s here? I glance at Mom, knowing she's probably thinking the same thing.

  "Noah, maybe you should back off a bit?"

  "Not happening, Eden.” Dad's voice has a thick vein of inflexibility running through it.

  Oh yeah, Dad's protective streak.

  Instead, I step forward. Mom will be working her Fae magic, and Achak knows me. He’d never hurt me.

  I keep my voice calm and level. "I didn't think you were feeling well, Achak. I came to check up on you."

  The edgy energy driving him one way then the other doesn't stop. His trajectory stays the same, although he seems to speed up and slow with no discernible rhythm.

  "Let us help you."

  My response is another growl. Not just any growl, but a rumbling, threatening growl. I don't understand. Why would he tell me to stay away?

  I take another step forward, now worried. Achak must be really sick.

  "Ava…"

  Dad's tone is low, my name heavy with warning. I reach backward, holding up my palm. "He won't hurt me, Dad."

  I can hear Mom rustling in the vet pack. Good, hopefully she has an idea of what’s wrong with him. All I need to do is calm him, then we can make him better.

  Getting closer, I see the sheen of fever in Achak's eyes. Normally a golden glow that reminds me of dawn, his eyes are wide, flaming, and feral.

  He looks really, really mad.

  "Did someone hurt you, Achak?"

  Oh god, please don't let the poachers be back. Hunters still come around, looking for trophy kills. They know that even if the quota of wolf culls for the month has been reached, no one is going to check. The majority of humanity is too frightened after they discovered what these usually gentle creatures are capable of.

  Achak stops, and I use the pause to come a few steps closer. His glowing, golden eyes watch me as he pants. Up close, I see the drooling has become worse. His tongue lolls, the saliva that doesn't catch around his mouth dripping to the ground. Worry tightens my chest. He's gotten worse faster than I expected. If I’d known, I would have brought him in yesterday.

  "Ava." It's Mom's soothing tones that reach out to me. "I don't think you should go any closer."

  I want to ask if she's figured out what's wrong, but I don't turn away from Achak. I tap into our
connection, finding the place where every living being meets. Here I show him the truth of who I am and who he is. Different in so many ways, but the same in so many more.

  Mom and her brother, Orin, another of the Fae Elders, have taught me everything I know. What's more, I'm the only one who sees the visible proof of our interconnection. Achak and I have a bond nothing can break.

  Achak stops and I hope it's a good sign. In a flash, he spins around and disappears into the trees.

  "I'm going to get the tranquilizer gun from the truck. Just in case."

  I turn to tell Dad that would never be necessary, but he's gone before I can open my mouth. Darned Were speed. Another Were gene I don't seem to have been blessed with.

  Mom comes forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "You know he likes to be safe."

  I roll my eyes. "Yes, I do." I glance up at my mother, her mahogany hair tied back, the green eyes I inherited smiling, but framed by worry. "What do you think’s wrong with Achak?"

  She looks to the place Achak was a second ago. "I'm not sure…"

  I pull back a little. The connections are strongest with those we care about. The link between myself and my parents is a powerful one—reinforced by time and unconditional love. "But you have an idea?"

  "The symptoms fit…but it doesn't make sense. Too fast and too uncommon."

  "Less vet talk, more making sense, Mom."

  Mom walks back to her bag, pulling out a solid little tome of a book. She flips through, the frown that has never really left since we arrived, deepening.

  I look up towards the trees, holding still. Joshua tells me I do this when I sense a disturbance in the force. Achak is moving. I can't see him, but our connection is changing. Thinning one moment, thickening the next. It's like some sort of metaphysical tug-of-war is going on.

  For the first time, I take a step back. Unease is rising up my spine, starting to feel a little like fear.

  "It's almost like it's…" Mom's voice sounds like she's worried she might be right. "Ra—"

  The shimmery, gossamer thread that disappears into the trees, the one that ties Achak to me, pulses, grows, and then thins until it's barely there. I blink, except there's no time to process what that means.

  Achak spears from the trees, but I barely recognize him.

  "Run, Ava!" It's my mother's voice, shouted in alarm and high with fear.

  For a second, I hesitate. Achak was the wolf who first taught me how wolves hug. Who refused to let anyone else touch him from the moment he was released.

  Achak is the wolf who’s barreling straight for me, nothing but rage in his eyes. Froth frames his exposed teeth and flicks back onto his red-grey coat as he propels forward.

  I turn and run. I try to match my feet to my thundering heart, needing to rival the pace. I latch onto my mother's frantic eyes as she powers forward, running toward her in a desperate, uncoordinated sprint.

  Even as I know that it will only buy me time. Achak is an alpha male. The strongest and fastest of his pack. Sometimes we’d pretend to race, me running my heart out, him loping and leaping like he was teasing me.

  He'll reach me within moments. And my scared brain has no idea what will happen when he does.

  The boulder that knocks me over feels like a mountain. I have no choice but to honor the laws of physics as gravity slams me to the ground. The grass feels like cement, unable to absorb the speed I'd desperately built, or stop the forward momentum I'd hoped would save me. I tumble, rabid growls and snatches of sky flashing past me as I roll over and over.

  "Ava!" This time my mother's voice is a desperate scream. All the sound tells me is that she's too far away to help me.

  I stop with an oomph, not because I've hit something, but because a weight lands on me. I roll onto my back, hoping to get away, but Achak pins me to the ground. The first snap at my face peppers me with canine spittle. I throw my hands up, fingers sinking into thick fur. I feel the amped-up heat radiating from what could only be described as a rabid beast.

  "Achak! Stop!"

  Achak’s eyes glow with hatred, his body vibrates with explosive energy. There's no reason in those eyes. No desire other than violence.

  There's nothing left of the wolf I helped raise.

  He snaps at the arms that restrain him and I feel his claws dig into my shoulders. The next wild bite grazes my arm, and I release my hold as pain ruptures along with my skin. A thin graze oozes crimson blood down my forearm. Maybe this will be the wake-up call to snap Achak out of this furious rage.

  "Please." This time I whisper the words, my throat too tight with fear to squeeze out anything else. Achak would feel my terror through our connection. Please, let him feel it.

  Please, make him stop.

  His mouth, open and snarling, powers down. My blood is a pale pink smear across his gleaming teeth. Frantically, I wrap my fingers around his neck, hands digging into his throat. Despite the pain, despite the hopelessness, I lock my arms and push.

  Snap! Teeth gnash past my nose. Snap! His jaws slam together, angry that they haven't connected with anything. Snap. Snarl. Snap.

  Fevered breath spills down on me, nothing but growls of rage fill my ears. My heart feels like it's trying to squeeze as many beats as it can into its last moments of life. Dad went to the car and Mom isn't going to get here in time. Plus, there's nothing she could do against the strength bearing down on me. It would be safer if she doesn't reach me before…

  My arms tremble with the strain, muscles knowing they can't hold this back. There's a pop, and another and another. All that dominates my vision are wide, feverish eyes and deadly, sharp teeth.

  My hands feel the growl that throbs in Achak's throat, my ears register the intent. My heart denies it as my arms collapse.

  My mind realizes I've run out of time to discover all the answers I've been seeking for seventeen years. I'll never find them now.

  Achak blinks, seems to lose his hold on the fury that was powering him, and collapses onto me. Frantically, the will to live a living, breathing being, I struggle and push.

  It's a limp body that I push off, and I'm surprised I have the strength to move it. Achak flops to the side, eyes shut, tongue lolling from his foamy mouth.

  Great mother, no. I clamber to my knees, trembling hands reaching out to his still form. Achak doesn't move. He's gone from furious energy to deathly still.

  He can't be…

  It's then that I see the three darts, red tufts jutting up amongst the mottled hair, their needles embedded in the wolf's hide. I look up to see Dad throw aside the tranquilizer gun before running to my side.

  I roll over and empty my stomach onto the emerald grass.

  Ava

  We never thought we'd build by the Glade. For generations, it had been a sacred place that could only be accessed by the privileged—essentially those who knew of its importance, Fae and Were.

  But the legacy I was born into changed all that.

  The Glade was exposed by bulldozers. Humans were attacked by what they thought were wolves.

  From as early as I can remember I tried to tap into the threads, help the land restore so the Glade could disappear back into obscurity. But hiding the Glade was never what we needed to do. Humans had bigger things to worry about—their fear of wolves—and they attacked right back. Wolf numbers shrank.

  In the end, the most logical place to build the captive breeding center was the location where humanity, Fae, and Were intersected.

  Those determined to make sure wolves don't become vulnerable to extinction built on my parents' land. Here they could research the remaining wolves, see which ones held the greatest complement of genetic diversity, capture them, and then help nature take its course.

  Achak was born here. Spent his early months here. He may not exist if it wasn't for the captive breeding program.

  But it still hurts to see him back, caged and unconscious.

  Mom pushes away from the microscope she was leaning over. "He's rabid."
<
br />   Rabies? "Are you sure?"

  "Pretty sure."

  "So, there's a chance he's not?" I don't need to say out loud that there's no cure for rabies.

  "Well, there's no definitive test for rabies, unless we do it posthumously."

  Joshua frowns, his dark brows low. He crosses his arms as he leans against the cupboards lining the wall. "Thankfully, we're not there yet."

  I cross my arms too. Although I don't want to be a vet, I've grown up around them. I know what Mom just said. "You can only know for sure after he's dead."

  "There are some pieces of the puzzle that don't fit. There's no sign of a bite wound that would've been the infection site. And even the furious form of rabies doesn't usually progress that fast." Mom glances at the microscope again. "But I checked his saliva, spinal fluid, and did a skin biopsy. They all showed signs of the virus."

  Furious form. That's exactly what Achak was. Furious beyond reason.

  Mom reaches the shelves above her and pulls down a small bottle. She scans the tiny lettering on the label, her usually serene face grave.

  My arms untangle and I step forward. My heart lodges in my throat. "You can't—" I stop although there's nothing but silence in the lab. There's no way I can finish that sentence.

  Mom looks up, her whole face drawn. "We don't need to euthanize him at this stage."

  Now my heart plummets painfully. At this stage…

  "I'm going to vaccinate him."

  Josh rubs his chin. "And what does that do?"

  "He was already vaccinated, but this gives him a booster if he was exposed." She scans the shelves again, then grabs a second vial further down. "And I'll add some immuno globulin."