Page 9 of BeWolfed

"These tunnels go deeper than I expected," Elowen said ahead of me, witch-light dancing above her palm. The narrow passage forced us close, our shoulders brushing. "Rose expanded them last year for the 'problematic acquisitions.'"

"Problematic how?"

"The kind that try to possess their readers," she replied matter-of-factly. "Or rewrite reality. Or summon things from dimensions that shouldn't touch ours."

I raised an eyebrow. "Your aunt collects these for fun?"

"Rose believes dangerous knowledge should be preserved but contained." A hint of pride colored her voice. "Better in her cave system than circulating among those who don't understand the risks."

We reached a chamber I hadn't seen in my previous explorations—its walls lined with ritual calendars and astronomical charts. Rose's scent lingered here, fresher than elsewhere. She'd been working here shortly before her disappearance.

A lunar calendar caught my attention, the next full moon circled boldly in red ink. Rose's precise handwriting filled the margins:Convergence point. Maximum potency. Final stage.

"Three days until the full moon," Elowen said, tension evident in her shoulders. "We're running out of time."

She moved to a large map spread across a central table, her fingers tracing the colored markers. "Seven points," she breathed, following the green markers. "Seven witches taken from different locations, forming a perfect ritual circle."

"And nine pack positions," I added, indicating the blue markers forming an outer circle around the witch points. "Classic blood magic configuration—the power of seven augmented by nine, creating sixteen points of corrupted energy."

"With one focal point at the center." She touched a black marker positioned at the southern quarry. "The alpha."

Her intuitive grasp of the situation was impressive. Most people would still be in denial over a missing relative, but Elowen was piecing together the conspiracy with analytical precision, her fear for Rose channeled into determined action.

"Rose knew," I said, pointing to notations along the map's edge. "She was tracking the connection between the missing witches and the ritual preparation."

"Which means she'd have confronted them," Elowen said, anxiety flashing across her face. "Alone. Without telling me. Typical Rose—always protecting everyone but herself."

The frustration and fear in her voice was raw. For a moment, her composed exterior cracked, revealing the depth of her worry. Before I could respond, Daisy appeared at the tunnel entrance, her form spectral in the cave's dim light.

"The Glitter & Stone where shadows speak," she announced cryptically. "Twilight hides what daylight seeks."

Elowen turned sharply. "Daisy, speak plainly. Do you know where Rose is?"

"Shadow Valley's veil grows thin on Wednesdays. The dancers know where the witches sleep. Mr. Cash keeps twilight's secrets for those who pay the proper price."

I exchanged a glance with Elowen. "The Glitter & Stone is a supernatural strip club in Shadow Valley—a gathering place for information that doesn't circulate in polite society."

"You think Rose went there investigating the missing witches?" The hope in her voice was painful to hear—desperate for any lead, any connection to her missing aunt.

"It makes sense. Shadow Valley exists in perpetual twilight due to degraded wards. Perfect place to hide captives."

Elowen stepped closer to Daisy, her voice tight with controlled emotion. "Is Rose still fighting? Is she alive?"

Daisy's expression softened, becoming unexpectedly clear. "The books say her pages remain unwritten. Her story continues, though the ink grows faint." Then, as quickly as the clarity appeared, it faded back into whimsy. "The mystery section is quite invested in the next chapter."

Relief transformed Elowen's face. Not certainty, but hope—Rose was alive. That conviction seemed to straighten her spine, sharpen her focus.

"This is it," Elowen said, her voice fierce with renewed determination. "A solid lead."

"Shadow Valley is dangerous territory," I cautioned. "The supernatural community there plays by different rules."

She met my gaze directly, blue eyes blazing. "You think that scares me? My aunt raised me after my parents died. She's the only family I have. I don't care if I have to walk into hell itself to find her."

Her declaration struck deep—the loyalty, the courage, the fierce protectiveness. My wolf responded with instinctive respect, recognizing a kindred spirit in the determination to protect family at any cost.

"We'll check it out tonight," I agreed. "Wednesday nights at The Glitter & Stone are quieter—better chance of getting information without attracting attention."

As we prepared to leave, an otherworldly energy pulsed through the tunnels—neither witch-magic nor pack power, but something ancient and unsettling. The protective wards flickered and strained.

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