Wild Wolf (Shifters Unbound, #6)(80)

Misty put her hand over Graham’s heart. Through the pounding of her own pulse, she felt nothing. Barely able to breathe, Misty leaned down and rested her ear against his cold chest.

There. A flutter. A small but strong beat, a long pause, and another beat. Graham’s chest rose the slightest bit before falling again.

Misty sat up. “He’s alive. Dougal, he’s alive!”

Dougal kept tearing away the vines. He didn’t acknowledge her announcement but kept pulling, with teeth and claws, growling when a vine proved too tough to move.

The vines holding Graham’s arms and legs refused to budge. Dougal and Misty pulled the rest of the flowers away from Graham’s chest, but thick, tough stems wrapped his limbs and held him in place.

“Graham.” Misty touched his face, patted his cheek. “Graham, wake up.”

Graham didn’t move. Dougal put one big paw on Graham’s chest and shook him, his mournful howls returning.

Through it all, Matt and Kyle remained to one side, as though realizing they couldn’t move the vines with their small paws. They sat together now, pressed tightly together, watching as Misty and Dougal tried to wake Graham.

“Now would be a great time for Reid to pop in and save the day,” Misty said.

She waited, just in case. Nothing happened, no Reid, no response from Graham.

Dougal shifted back to his human form, snarling a little as his limbs jerked. “Reid left us to rot,” he said. “Fucking Fae. They all stick together.”

Rock clicked together somewhere, as though a spatter of gravel had fallen. Both Misty and Dougal froze, but the sound wasn’t repeated.

Misty pulled away several determined vines that had crept back over Graham. “We have to wake him up.”

“Don’t you think we’ve been trying?” Dougal growled. “Uncle Graham! Wake the hell up, already!” He shook Graham, hard. Tears trickled from Dougal’s eyes again, his fear stark. “He can’t die,” he sobbed. “I’ll be alone.”

“No, you won’t,” Misty said quickly. “You have these little guys. And me. And other Shifters.”

Dougal shook his head. “If Graham leaves me alone, the other wolves will kill me. They know I can’t lead them.”

Misty put her arm around Dougal, then rested her forehead on his bare arm, pulling him into a hug. She’d been around Shifters enough by now to know how a touch and embrace could calm them. Misty stroked Dougal’s long back until Dougal quieted a little.

“Graham won’t let that happen,” she said. “Because we’re going to wake him up.”

“How?” Dougal went back to his hunkering. “We don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s Fae-spelled. He’s dying.”

“Be quiet a minute.”

Misty fished around in the fallen vines for her leather-bound book. She opened it, leafing through the pages. A few flowers raised their heads next to her, as though reading with her, which gave her the creeps.

The book had no table of contents and no index. Misty had to turn every page to find out if there was anything in the book that might help at all.

“Here we go.” Misty paused on a page about halfway through the volume. “For enchanted sleep. Did he mean to release from? Or to create?”

Dougal didn’t answer, sinking into his own fears again.

“Let’s see. Roses—no surprise—all these spells seem to have roses. Irises, a little trickier. Plus honeysuckle. Blend petals together, mix in water, and sprinkle over the victim. Hmm. I don’t like the sound of ‘victim.’ Call down the power of the Father God, and keep the victim warm. What does that mean? Calling the power of the Father God. Praying?”

Dougal raised his head again, his voice hoarse with his crying. “The Father God is represented by the sun,” he said. “Probably means Uncle Graham has to be in sunlight.”

The cave was very dark, the patches of sunlight far behind them. “Well, we’ll work on that,” Misty said. “Plus the water.”

The fountain burbled, sounding louder, as though enticing Misty to use it. But the fountain’s water was how they’d gotten into this mess in the first place.

One thing at a time. “Flowers, I can do,” Misty said. “I see roses, honeysuckle, and even irises. Over there.” She pointed to a line of purple and white flowers sticking up from spearlike leaves not far from them.

“You’re going to tear up the flowers in here?” Dougal asked. “Are you crazy? They’ll try to strangle you.”

“They’ll have to deal with it. I’m trying this spell.” How Misty would find safe water and sunlight, she didn’t know, but as she’d told herself, one thing at a time.

“Hey—wait!” Dougal was on his feet, yelling. “Come back here, you little shits!”

Misty scrambled up as well, her fear intensifying. Matt and Kyle were running away, twisting and turning through the vines until they were swallowed in darkness.

“Matt! Kyle! No!” Misty screamed.

Dougal took a step forward, then back again, torn by indecision. “I can’t leave you alone,” he moaned.

“Yes, you can. Go find them. I’ll stay with Graham. There’s enough light. You’ll make it back.” Misty rubbed Dougal’s shoulder as he hesitated. “You can do this, Dougal. You know you can. You’re his second, remember?”