Finnian Vogel, Beta of the Western Pack, and a decades-old Lupis male, had never been as irritated and impatient in his whole existence, as he was just then.

They had been in Alabama for three hours now, and they had yet to find a single trace of magic, let alone a powerful, infamous Bruja coven.

It was farm field after farm field, fence after fence, cow after cow.

If they didn't find anything soon, his wolf would resort to gnawing a hole through his chest, exposing a heart that was pumping along to a fast, uncontrollable beat.

He could sense it. It was like a large shadow settling over his eyes, washing the world away until it was nothing more than a vast sea of darkness; but, instead of settling over his physical body, it blanketed his soul.

Conquering it.

Overtaking it.

His wolf felt it, too.

'Soon,' the animal purred, it's non-existent form slipping into the depths of Finnian's conscious. 'Soon, we will no longer be alone.'

No longer alone...

Finnian clenched his jaw as the van in front of them, the one that his Addy was staying in, veered sharply to the left, its wheels kicking up dust and rocks as it moved.

Momentarily, he was blinded by a cloud of murky brown, but the bright headlights of their van pierced through it, allowing them to follow after the van speeding ahead of them.

How was Adeline doing?

Had she awakened yet? If so, had she began to feel the effects of their developing b...

He shook his head, pushing away the thoughts that, if he were to dwell on them any longer, would've driven him mad with worry.

He was truly and utterly worried about that little female.

Not only for her future... but his own.

Because he would have no future without her, now that he had, finally, found her.

He had been waiting for over sixty years, hoping and praying to the Moon that he'd find her.

'Her birthday is tomorrow.' His wildness pointed out, its hopefulness and desperation lacing every syllable. 'And we have yet to find the fool.'

A rough growl filled his mind, grating against every nerve and cell in his very being.

Coarse brown fur sprouted over his arms, the hairs standing on end as the darkness outside loomed, and the darkness inside of him began to eat away at his control, bit by bit.

'Not long now.' His beast purred, prowling just beyond the barrier of consciousness. It was straddling the fence of humanity, and feral, uncontrollable instinct, carefully; but, with each passing hour, it leaned more onto the side of instinct, nearly leaving it's neutral perch altogether.

'Yes. Not long at all.' Finnian answered, his eyes trained on the black blur of farms and farm fields. The shadowy stalks of corn reached up towards the Moon and stars above, threads of golden tassel rustling in the night breeze.

He let his head fall back on the headrest with a grunt.

The waiting and suspense and the 'what-ifs,' were killing him.

Gutting him.

Peeling the flesh off of his bones.

Filleting him like a fish.

The suspense and the worrying were messing with his head, and, in turn, his wolf.

A flash of black zoomed past the window, letting the midnight breeze carry it forward. It had flown so damned close to the van, that Finnian could see its individual feathers, even the two tufts of feathers pressed back against its head.

An animal of respect, of wisdom.

Bright golden orbs flashed, the stare as sharp as butcher knives.

It kept pace with the van, flapping its mighty wings every few seconds, but the wind did most of the work; it lifted the bird right beside the moving vehicle, keeping it in place beside the window that Finnian was looking through.

Eyes as ancient as time itself, sliced into him...

Seeing right through his very soul.

The Great-Horned Owl then tilted its wings, veering away from the two vans as swiftly as the shadows chasing after it. The night swarmed the great bird, coating over its brown and grey feathers, encircling its onyx black talons that were tucked in tight.

It glided over the stalks of corn, nothing more than a mass of mysterious, ancient blackness.

A minute passed, then another.

He could no longer see the owl-- the night had completely swallowed it whole-- but it didn't take long until his eyes drifted back to the van in front of them.

What he would give to see that little female...

Just to check on her, to make sure that she was safe and in stable condition.

But, until then, he had to trust the trembling doctor and her parents to watch over her, to protect her.

His wolf snarled, the harsh, deadly sound rattling his eardrums, his brain. 'Soon...'

????

Alexandra scrubbed at her face with a growl, her foot bouncing restlessly on the floorboard.

Dillon gripped the steering wheel, his right eye twitching from the stress crashing through him.

It was almost seven in the morning, and the damned witches had yet to reveal themselves.

And Adeline's birthday was tomorrow!

They had to find those fools, or else, once the clock struck twelve, Adeline would die.

Her heart would cease to beat, lying dormant in a cage of crimson and ivory, suspended by strings of guilt and nothingness.

Alexandra refused to attend another parting ceremony.

She would not lose another child to a damned witch. She wouldn't allow it!

She'd rather gut herself, than watch her daughter's future descend to the otherworld alongside her beautiful, young, fated soul.

Alexandra refused to let her daughter leave this earth, before her.

Parents shouldn't have to watch their children die-- it just wasn't the way of nature. Parents protected their children and taught them valuable life lessons, and, when their maker called them Home, that was their last taught lesson.

Parents taught their children the joys of life, and, in turn, the hardships and pain of it. Without their departure, many children would never learn what it is to love someone, and what it is like to lose them.

And that was their final gift.

A gift that would be remembered for as long as the child may live, whether it be a few years, or for an eternity.

Alexandra looked up into the rear-view mirror, her dark eyes scanning over her daughter's prone form, and the stiff doctor seated next to her.

She strained her ears, trying to pick up the reassuring, quiet beat of a weak heart.

The soft pounding of Adeline's heart, met her ears, causing Alexandra to let out the breath she hadn't realized that she had been holding.

Bump, bump; bump, bump; bump, bump.

Dillon picked up her hand, and squeezed it, a gentle, but forced smile making its way across his lips.

Bump, bump; bump, bump; bump, bump.

Bump, bump; bump, bump; bump, bump.

'You hear it, don't you?' Dillon's voice was gruff, emotion lacing each and every word that left him, verbally and mentally.

Alexandra nodded, tearing her eyes away from her sleeping pup, and connecting them with Dillon's.

Eyes coated in ice met hers, but a fire burned in their icy depths, flickering along to the beat of Adeline's heart.

Finally, Alexandra broke the silence with a question that had been eating away at her ever since they had entered Georgia. "What if the witches come after us? What will we do then?"

They hadn't even thought about the consequences of killing the Matron; the moment that they were told that Belladonna had welded the curse, everything had been set into motion.

They had killed the traitor, drank the potion, and loaded into the van, driving straight into Georgia without a second thought.

The Matron, Belladonna, was going to die, that much was certain; but since they had dove in, they hadn't even considered how her coven would react once they found her bloodied, mangled corpse.

Dillon appeared to ponder her question for a moment, his hand loosening its hold around her own. He finally spoke, "If it were any other time of the year, it would be impossible to carry out this execution; the second that we cross over than territory line, they would unleash themselves on us. But, if Lydia had been telling the truth, the Brujas are celebrating a holiday that allows them to drink themselves silly."

Alexandra nodded slowly, her eyes drifting away from her mate, and gazing out onto the endless road in front of them. They had escaped the farm fields, and were driving through dense, silent forest. Trees towered high above, their thin limbs blocking out any sunlight that tried to meet the forest floor. Every now and then, a deer or bird would show itself, the darkness of the night still clinging to its body, but those tiny, insignificant creatures told them that they weren't alone... that Alexandra and her companions weren't the only living creatures out there.

Dillon dropped her hand, and patted her thigh. "Hopefully they will be so drunk that once they discover her, we will be long gone."

Hopefully.

He sucked in a harsh breath, both of his hands returning to the steering wheel. "Even if they do retaliate against us, we have allies all over the world. There are many, many packs that would have no problem assisting us. We have fought off the witches once before, we can do it again."

She continued to stare at the road, the asphalt going as far as she could see; the early morning light flickered between the gaps in the trees and vegetation, shooting rays of light into the van.

Just as she was going to respond, a billboard appeared, tucked snuggly on the side of the road, leaves and branches covering its edges.

A crow was perched precariously on a corner, so close to the edge that Alexandra was certain that the smallest of breezes would shove it off.

The bird's sharp, beady eyes latched onto the vans, it's onyx black feathers puffing up with some kind of emotion.

"Slow the van," Alexandra whispered, her eyes narrowed on the crow and billboard.

Crows.

Classic companions of witches.

Dillon began to press down on the break, his eyes zeroing in on the oddly placed objects, too.

The vans slowed to a crawl as they approached the billboard.

The cawing of crows filled the air, but the loudest, most threatening was from the one perched on the billboard. It spread its wings wide, feathers as black as twilight splaying.

It had been featuring something about tobacco use, but it changed in the blink of an eye; a sparkling jade sheen falling over its front.

Alexandra gasped. "It is a... mirror...?"

The sparkling had faded, revealing a familiar, ever moving picture of two dark vans surrounded by endless forest.

She could even see herself in the mirror, a look of shock surrounded by pale flesh, a pair of burning brown eyes boring holes into the coven entrance.

Between the legs of the large stand, a clearing had revealed itself.

It was nothing more than a well-worn dirt path, tire tracks imprinting the earth in a mess of pattern.

The van halted right in front of the entrance.

The path stretched out as far as the eye could see, but Alexandra smelled the magic.

The dark, twisted magic that came with the title of witch.

And it stank of it.

Whatever the entrance had been using to conceal itself, it could no longer withhold.

The potion was working wonderfully.

Growls filled the van as Dillon released the break and pressed down on the gas, turning the steering wheel with trembling arms.

Arms trembling with rage and built-up tension.

It was now or never.

They had a witch to kill.