Spell Bond: More Tales From the Old World Read online

  Spell Bond

  More Tales From the Old World

  Melissa F. Olson

  Copyright © 2021 Melissa F. Olson

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Elizabeth Kraft

  Cover Photo by Gene Mollica

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is dedicated to all of the amazing readers who supported me on Patreon during the worst year of my life. Creating these stories for you every month was the labor of love that kept me sane.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other Works

  Author’s Introduction

  Soft Spot

  Author's note

  Blowback

  Birthright

  Author's Note

  The Witching Hour

  Author's Note

  The Cowboy

  Author's Note

  All That Glitter

  Author's Note

  Spiral

  Blindside

  BONUS MATERIALS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Other Works

  The Nightshades Trilogy

  Nightshades

  Switchback

  Outbreak

  Also by Melissa F. Olson

  The Big Keep

  The Definitive Guide to the Old World

  Bloodsick (prequel novella) "Sell-By Date" (Featured in Companion Pieces) Dead Spots Trail of Dead Hunter's Trail Boundary Crossed "Malediction" (Featured in Companion Pieces) "Soft Spot" (Featured in Spell Bond) Boundary Lines Boundary Born Midnight Curse "Boundary Blood"

  (Featured in Companion Pieces) "The Lost Girls" (Featured in Companion Pieces) Blood Gamble Shadow Hunt "Powerless" (Featured in Companion Pieces) "Nativity" (Featured in Companion Pieces) Born Magic: The Diary of Scarlett Bernard Boundary Broken "The Cowboy" (Featured in Spell Bond) Boundary Haunted "Blowback" (Featured in Spell Bond) "Birthright" (Featured in Spell Bond) "The Witching Hour" (Featured in Spell Bond) "All That Glitter" (Featured in Spell Bond)

  Pandemic Stories "Spiral" (Featured in Spell Bond)

  “Blindside” (Featured in Spell Bond)

  Author’s Introduction

  Welcome to Spell Bond, a book of stories about the deep connections found in the Old World…and how they have reverberations that no one anticipated. We’re jumping right in with “Soft Spot,” which I think of as a love letter to the werewolf leader in Colorado, Mary.

  Of all my characters, Lex, Katia, and Mary are probably the three toughest, and toughest for anyone to get to know. I often talk about how Katia is who Lex would be if she didn’t have her family and twin—she’s the shadow character, the Faith to Lex’s Buffy. Mary has a similar edge to the boundary witches, a hardness born of trauma and pain. Probably because all three of those characters have had lives full of tragedy.

  As similar as they are in many ways, though, Mary’s life has been extremely different. Both of the boundary witches came of age within a system, though not necessarily a positive one: Lex had the Army and her family, and Katia was trapped with an abusive, toxic vampire. Despite these extremes, they both always had lives full of structure. Mary, on the other hand, made bad choices in her youth, and since then she has been the only one looking out for Mary.

  I wrote this story to explore what’s unique about Mary, and also, selfishly, so I could show a moment when she gets true happiness. It seemed like she was due.

  Soft Spot

  Mary Willis

  Cheyenne, Wyoming

  The call from Tobias came late on a Wednesday afternoon. I’d finished my sales rounds at the hospital shortly after lunch, and didn’t feel like going back into the office. For some reason I’m excellent at medical sales, even though I find it easy to the point of dullness. So I just emailed my sales manager my latest sales figures and informed him I was fucking off for the day. When you have my numbers, no one questions your quitting time.

  Back at my shitty one-bedroom apartment, I killed some time with laundry and dishes. By five o’clock, though, I was pacing the tiny space with my phone in hand, considering how to spend the rest of the evening…or, rather, who to spend it with. Finding something to do with my free hours every night had been one of the hardest parts of moving from Miami to Wyoming. I get bored easily, and I don’t like being alone with my thoughts. It was a little easier when I had a roommate, my friend Cammie, but then she’d moved in with her now-husband Matt, and I had way too much alone time.

  On weekends I could at least go dancing, by myself or with one of the younger female werewolves in Ryan Dunn’s pack, but there’s not exactly a big club scene on weeknights in Cheyenne. I already knew Cammie was out of town that night, which left me with…dating apps. I often used them to find some temporary, easy company, but hookups are also a lot more tedious when you can’t really get drunk. Sometimes I don’t have the patience for awkwardness and small talk.

  Once again, I found myself pacing the tiny apartment with my phone, trying to settle on the best worst option.

  I was so focused on the decision that I actually jumped when the phone rang in my hand. Annoying. Then I saw the name of Ryan’s company on the screen, and my heart did a little flutter, which annoyed me more. But I still managed to say “Hello,” in a more or less even tone.

  “Hi, Mary!” Tobias’s voice chirped. “I’m calling from Ryan Dunn Construction.”

  I rolled my eyes but held my temper. Our newest pack member had only been with us for a couple of months, after a long stint in the werewolf equivalent of a looney bin. All new arrivals start by working for Ryan’s company, usually as a roofer, but Ryan had surprised the whole pack by assigning Tobias to the phones. This seemed like a really weird choice, given that the guy had missed out on a decade or so of technological advances in telecommunications.

  It hadn’t taken long for us to figure out why, though. He might have been a walking time capsule, but Tobias exuded cheerfulness through his pores. “Yes, I know, Tobias. What’s up?”

  “Ryan would like to meet you at this address—“

  He began rattling off numbers, and I scrambled toward the notepad on the kitchen counter, even as my mouth said, “Wait, Tobias. Why does he want to see me? Is it a pack thing?”

  “No. Maybe? I didn’t ask. Oh no, the UPS guy is here! Hold, please!” There was a click, and canned music assaulted my ears.

  I held the phone away from my face so I could check the clock: 5:45 p.m. Huh. That was a weird time for Ryan to need me—after work hours, so it couldn’t relate to his business, but it was a little early for a pack situation. And why hadn’t he called me himself?

  Tobias came back on the line. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great, here’s that address again,” he said cheerfully, and this time I was ready to write it down. The address was in Ranchettes, one of the northern Cheyenne suburbs.

  “Tobias, do you know why—“

  “Mary!” he cried, interrupting me. “Someone’s on the other line again! I have to go!”

  The phone went dead. I sighed. To
bias never usually interrupted people, especially other werewolves, but he was terrified of missing a call from Ryan. I knew for a fact that the phone system at the construction company wasn’t complicated—I’d done my own stint on the reception desk, though Ryan had moved me pretty quickly due to “lack of people skills,” a polite term for “making the plumbing subcontractor cry.”

  I stalked toward the tiny bedroom to change out of the pinstriped minidress I’d worn on my sales calls, vacillating between irritation and relief. I really disliked being summoned, even by Ryan. On the other hand, now I had something to do with my evening, and I hadn’t needed to make a decision about it myself.

  As I was climbing into my car, a sporty BMW sedan that the pharmaceutical company had bought me the previous year, Cammie texted from her trip. Just arrived at hotel, she wrote. What are you doing tonight?

  I sat back in the seat, feeling a flush of warmth. Cammie was maybe the only person who checked on my welfare with no ulterior motives, other than friendship. I have been summoned to the presence of our liege, I typed.

  What did you do now?

  Hmm. Good question. I thought it over for a moment. Nothing came to mind; well, nothing from the last few months. Since I’d left Dunn Construction and started kicking ass at my new job, I’d been “settling down,” as Cammie had recently put it. Or at least, I didn’t start as many fights.

  I honestly can’t think of anything, I wrote. He probably just enjoys the power trip.

  Neither of us believe that for a second. Stop pretending you’re not excited to see him.

  I stared at the text for a few seconds, hating that she was right. Like many alphas, Ryan was a big believer in rules, order, and structure. But unlike most alphas, he wasn’t an asshole. Which ended up being…confusing. Finally, I just typed, Bitch.

  Love you too.

  Smiling to myself, I closed the car door and buckled my seatbelt. Werewolves can survive damn near any car accident, short of an actual beheading, but I always wear the seatbelt anyway. Ryan likes to point out that it’s a lot easier to buckle than to explain to first responders how you managed to heal from a broken neck, but in my case I think it’s just habit.

  With the Pixies blaring from the BMW’s speakers, I started toward the suburbs. I knew the Ranchettes area a little—two of the pack members had homes there—but I still used my phone’s navigation to find the right spot, and was glad I did. I’d been imagining a busy neighborhood street, but found myself pulling into a short gravel driveway at the very edge of Ranchettes, isolated from the neighbors by clumps of trees. The closest streetlight was a few hundred yards from the driveway, but that was good enough for werewolf eyes. That’s probably my favorite thing about being a werewolf, actually—I never have to worry about shadows again.

  In the dark, our eyes adjust to be wolf-like, meaning colors fade and motion jumps out. It’s sort of like stepping into a black-and-white movie. Even before my headlights hit the garage door, I could tell I was looking at a modest, cabin-style house, compact and tidy with a small chimney. There was also a huge alpha werewolf perched on the roof. Ryan had set up a small camp lantern by the chimney, but he was on the opposite edge of the roof, nailing down shingles with an inhuman speed that immediately told me there were no humans around. `Well, that and the time. Human roofers don’t usually work after dark, as far as I know.

  I parked a little ways from the house and opened the door, reflexively inhaling a huge breath of air through my nose. Humans process a new setting eyes first, but wolves acclimate nose first, and werewolves are sort of a mixture of the two. As quickly as I could assess with my eyes, my nose told me my surroundings included pine sap, roofing shingles, body odor, stale scent markers from a couple of unfamiliar humans, and Ryan Dunn. Something in me loosened as I recognized his scent. I told myself it was just the stupid werewolf instincts.

  He must have heard the car crunch along the gravel driveway, of course, and as I approached the house he stood and turned his body to face me, his quick fingers reloading the nail gun at the same time. He wore old jeans and a flannel shirt over his barrel-shaped chest, and he’d trimmed his beard recently. I’m not usually into the mountain man/lumberjack look, but Ryan wore it so well. If it wasn’t for his relentlessly perfect posture, I’d find it hard to believe he was ever a clean-cut Marine.

  “Tobias said you wanted to talk to me?” I called. I tried not to sound impatient, but Cammie always said impatience was my natural tone.

  “Some people say hello first,” Ryan replied, not unkindly. He looked down at me with a warm, lazy smile that I tried not to feel in my belly. That’s alpha magic, I told myself. It’s not real.

  “Come on up,” he said in a normal speaking voice, knowing I’d be able to hear. He pointed at the ladder next to the driveway.

  I made a face at him, but I’d half-expected this, and had dressed appropriately…well, appropriately for me. After kicking me off the reception desk, Ryan had started sending me on roofing jobs, and now I’d dressed in my winter “uniform” of jeans cut off just below the crotch, a thick flannel button-up shirt, and my Timberland women’s work boots with the four-inch heels.

  On my first day as a roofer, Ryan and I had spent hours arguing over the shorts and heeled boots. He could have used his dominance to shut me down at any point, of course, but he’d actually let me win the argument—not so much because of what I said, but because he could see how important it was to me. That argument was probably the first real sign that Ryan wasn’t like the alpha wolves I’d met before.

  Now I shimmied up the ladder and stood on the very edge of the roof. Some of the pack wolves—especially Lindsay and Nicki, the “pups”— hug or shake hands with Ryan when they meet, to seek comfort or maybe pay fealty. He and I have never been like that, though. Actually, I don’t think Ryan has touched me since he trained me to use the nail gun, years ago.

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets, careful to stay well below him on the incline. Werewolf instincts are weird about vertical angles—towering over the alpha, even innocently, feels scandalously offensive. I’ve done it before, by accident, and it was an effort to stop myself from cringing into a tiny ball of shame. I hated that I was magically wired to subservience to an alpha, but it wasn’t so bad when it was Ryan.

  He saw me glancing at the angles and courteously moved his own body higher up the side of the roof, climbing the finished shingles to sit down on the very peak, the ridge cap. I edged closer, and he pointed to a spot to my left, an area that was bare of shingles. “Careful right there. The decking is a little soft—I’m gonna replace it tomorrow, just in case.”

  I gave the soft spot a wide berth, but said again, “You wanted to see me?” I was pretty sure I sounded impatient that time, but he didn’t seem offended.

  “How did Tobias seem today?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know—annoyingly perky. Thrilled at the chance to speak to me.”

  Ryan didn’t answer, just nodded thoughtfully with his dark eyes fixed on me. I could practically feel him radiating patience. I hadn’t answered the question he’d really asked, so he was waiting until I did.

  The old belligerence began to crystalize in me—the urge to be snide or sarcastic in defiance of anyone’s control— but I reminded myself that Ryan wasn’t asking about Tobias to be a dick. Just the opposite, really—all werewolves are supposed to look after their pack’s sigma. If anything, I was being a dick, and Ryan was trusting me to realize that for myself.

  I dropped my eyes, took a breath. “He’s getting better at the phones,” I said to the new shingles in front of me. “He had to put me on hold for a few minutes, but he remembered to switch back.” I decided not to mention Tobias’s frantic hang-up to take another call.

  When I risked looking up, Ryan was nodding again, his face relaxing into what some of the other wolves call his Resting Boss Face: calm, sort of tough, but also willing to address your problem. “Is that why you called me out here?” I asked, unable to help myself
. “Because if you just wanted me to report on him, I could have gotten way more information from him in person.”

  Ryan smiled, tilting his head at the expanse of shingles next to him. “Wanna sit?”

  Warily, I hiked up the roof and carefully lowered myself before I reached the top, putting my butt on the ridge cap next to him. Ryan didn’t speak right away, just sat listening to the birdsong around us. He could be very annoying about things like “mindfulness” and “being present,” which always made me want to grind my teeth. The view of the development was beautiful, and I made an effort not to let myself enjoy it.

  After a few seconds I blurted, “Why are you here, anyway? You’re the boss of the company. You don’t have to be nailing shingles in the dark on a weeknight.”

  Ryan smiled, but I got the impression it wasn’t from what I’d said, more something he was thinking. “This is a special project. I know the homeowner personally.”

  “Oh.” I fidgeted, the heel of my boot wobbling up and down. Ryan’s scent was filling my nostrils, and my body was reacting to it. Being this close to Ryan made me feel safe and secure and…other things. Embarrassed, I edged sideways, both to get relief from the scent and because I didn’t want him to be able to pick up any pheromones or whatever.

  He must have noticed me moving away, but didn’t comment. “I wanted to talk to you about your future, Mary,”

  I blinked at him for a second in surprise. I would have expected a talk like this a year ago, when I was struggling to find my place in the pack, but now? “Why? I’m doing okay…aren’t I?”

  “You’re doing great. Really great, especially considering the violence and trauma in your past.” He said this matter-of-factly, which I appreciated more than I could say. Other than Ryan, only Cammie about my history, and how I became a werewolf. Anytime the subject came up, though, she danced around it with euphemisms and awkwardness. “But you’re not going to be in this pack forever, and we should start planning for that.”