The sounds of birds chirping and the rustle of pines dragged me out of sleep.

My throat was parched, and more importantly, burned with pain. Getting strangled would do that to you. And it was far from the only thing that hurt. My shoulder smarted something fierce, and I could feel plenty of other aches and pains making their presence known.

I took a deep breath, testing if it would hurt my throat. The pain stayed consistent. Time for a voice check. "Ow." My voice came out scratchy and dry, but I felt like that was from the dryness of my throat, not the fact that I had been through an attempted lynching. That was good. Despite the pain, it seemed I'd gotten out without serious damage.

A memory tried to surface, but I managed to shove it down. I'd gotten out with no serious physical damage, at least.

I started to get up, but my body convinced me to stay in bed for a few minutes longer. I took another deep breath. The room smelled pleasant, some kind of fabric softener that I couldn't place but liked.

"Where am I?"

"Do you need a reality check?" Agatha asked.

"No, I've got a lid on it for now. But I would like to know where I am." Wincing at the pain it caused, I turned my head to look at the old ghost.

Agatha had died in her 60's. She was thin, all long limbs, with skin stretched over bone with little in the way of muscle or fat in between. She sat, floating in the air near an open window, her iron-gray hair drifting about her like it was caught in an invisible current.

She met my eyes. Her usually sour expression replaced with one of concern. "You're in the Hanging Manor; you've been out since yesterday."

I blinked and looked up at the ceiling. Now that I was paying attention, I recognized my surroundings. This had been a guest room.

A night and a day weren't as bad as they could have been. I didn't even have any broken bones. The last time I had dealt with a possession, I'd gotten half my ribs broken.

"What happened after I passed out?"

Rodgers answered instead of Agatha. He was sitting in a chair next to the same window, his blue eyes peeping out at me from over a book.

"The young Alpha put you and Bobby, that's the lad you saved, in beds and has spent the past two days rotating between looking over you two. Which then switched to just watching over you when Bobby woke up this morning."

I grunted and closed my eyes. "Is he alright?"

"He seems to be taking it as well as any, uses humor as a shield, that one."

Well, that was good. Going by the burning house that was his mental scape, the guy probably didn't need any extra traumas in his life. I was glad he was taking it well.

I thought back over yesterday's events and cracked my eyes back open. "How is Matthews doing?"

"He's doing swell," Ben said.

I looked over and saw the short boxer had appeared in a prone position behind Agatha, flicking at her wavering hair like a bored cat.

"He asked about you. Seems like a decent fellow."

"He is. He's taking the whole ghost and supernatural thing quite well. And he has decent taste in music too."

I closed my eyes again and laid my head back, my neck sending out a pulse of pain in the process. I immediately opened my eyes again when I remembered waking up the first time.

My concern wasn't for all the puking I had done. Well, that was definitely unpleasant; it was hardly my first rodeo. I hadn't been wearing basketball shorts and a white T yesterday. Great, someone saw my bony ass naked.

"Were any of you here when I woke up the first time?"

Rodgers nodded, lowering the book to reveal his bushy red beard. "I came as soon as Niall's presence vanished. I don't need to tell you how worried I was when Matthews told us where you'd gone."

I nodded slightly, then grimaced. I needed to stop moving my head around so much.

"Sorry, we were kinda in a time crunch, and it would have been pointless for you to come. Niall had that place locked down tighter than Alcatraz. I don't know if I've ever seen a ghost as deeply merged with their Haunt as he was."

Rodgers made a grunt of understanding. "I know, and you did well, helping them. But an old man still worries."

"You were only in your fifties when you died. That's not that old."

"I died in the seventies, boy. That makes me an old man now."

"So what happened after I woke up the first time?" I asked, completely ignoring Rodgers words.

"The hunky blond cleaned you up and put you in here. And an old lady showed up for a bit, said some cryptic things, then left." Agatha said before smacking Ben's hand away.

"Which hunky blond?"

"The girl. And have you considered getting some more sun? You are really pale."

I groaned as I sat up and hauled myself out of bed. "Ben, remind me to un-alphabetize the library's fourth floor."

Ben gave me a thumbs up before dodging a swat from Agatha.

"There's more," Rodgers said as I searched for a glass of water. I found one. It had been on the nightstand, just barely out of my view. Damn, ghosts could have told me.

"Hit me," I said as I started to drink, fighting the urge to chug it.

"I did a bit of digging around while you were out. You know the vampire that's been on the warpath? The Barrow King, I believe, is his title. He's the reason why two new packs of Weres—and plenty of spooks you haven't seen yet—are moving into Silver Spruce. The factions are holding a summit, and they've decided to hold it here. And from the sound of things, they're going to make it their home base in America when they inevitably declare war on him."

I paused mid-gulp, swallowed, then set down the glass. "Shit." Everyone nodded.

~<>~

"Why do you not have a single voucher yet?" Blair took a deep breath, attempting to gather her thoughts before answering. This was the first time she had talked to her mother since arriving in Silver Spruce. It was going about as well as she had expected.

Her mother's first words when Blair had called were not "how are you?" Or maybe asking after Bobby's health. Blair had sent her parents an email covering what had happened in the short time they had been in the town. And what her mother had decided to focus on was that they didn't have any vouchers yet.

"Because," Blair said, managing to keep most of the anger out of her words. "After we were almost killed by the house you bought, iron fang's son has gone around threatening and attempting to extort all the locals he can! It hasn't made them well disposed toward werewolves right now!" There was several long seconds of silence before her mother spoke.

"I see. If it was anyone else, I would think they were trying to sabotage us, but George is stupid enough to alienate himself from a new town like it was a race." Her mother sighed. "Part of this is my fault. I underestimated how strong the ghost was."

Blair considered it a victory that she didn't crush the phone in her hand. Her mother had known the manor was haunted. She had known and hadn't told them. And due to her blighted 'tests,' Bobby had almost died. Blair didn't bother asking her mother what she'd been thinking. She knew the woman's thought process well enough to guess. Like she'd said, she had underestimated the ghosts strength. She'd expected it to give them a bit of trouble, make Blair think on her feet, call a contact or get a local to help.

Even though they were weeks away from formal war, that didn't stop her mother from playing these games.

"When are you and father arriving," she asked. Blair had lost control of her anger, but she wasn't one to yell often. The total neutrality in her voice made her emotions clear. "A few days before the summit, we need those vouchers by the time it starts. And Blair," her mother paused, and for a second, Blair thought she detected some emotion aside from annoyance in her voice. But then she continued, and Blair knew it was just her imagination.

"Silver-Spruce is going to be the staging ground for this front. We need those vouchers." Blair had to struggle again not to break her phone. Finally, she managed to control her grip, and her voice came out just as neutral as before. "I understand." She hung up first, technically rude since her Alpha hadn't dismissed her, but she was too angry to really care.

Blair was considering punching a hole in the wall and maybe killing that idiot George before she took a deep breath and centered herself. Control.

Now was not the time to go on a rampage, even if it would be cathartic. Blair pocketed her phone. Best to take the risk of shattering it away. Blair cocked her head. Now that she wasn't focused on her conversation, she could hear a voice. It was muffled, with several walls between Blair and its source, but the others were in town trying to get vouchers, which meant the Grave Keeper was awake.

She marched down the halls, trying to take the quickest route to the guest room. But, so far, taking the fastest route was as much guesswork as anything. The halls intersected at random, branching off with no rhyme or reason. It was strange, Blair felt she should be on edge in the house, but she wasn't. She could still vividly remember waves of knives, chairs, and every other loose piece of furniture flinging itself at her in an unrelenting storm.

She could remember her vision fading as the noose dug into her flesh. She rubbed her throat, then paused. Grave injuries didn't usually faze her. When you could recover from almost any wound under the moon, mental trauma from taking a knife in your gut didn't really exist. But that had been different, that had almost killed her, and Blair had been helpless to stop it. She closed her eyes for a moment, then kept walking.

Even with all that, she still wasn't unsettled by the house as she walked down the confusing halls. There was a presence to the place that had left. An undeniable air of hostility that had prickled against her skin and set her instincts wild. Whatever the Grave Keeper had done, however he had performed the exorcism, that feeling was gone. So now, even as she walked down the same halls, it felt like a completely different house. It even smelled different. Now it smelled like, well, a house.

As Blair neared the guest room, she could make out words. "Of course, I can keep my head down. I'm great at not getting involved in things! Quit laughing!" Blair slowed as she approached the door. Was he talking to himself? She focused on her hearing... Nothing. Not only was there just one voice, but there was also just one heartbeat.

Just before Blair knocked, she heard his footsteps heading for the door. She lowered her hand and took a step back. The door opened, and the Grave Keeper walked out, looking behind him and shouting. "You're exaggerating. I'm not that bad!" He turned his head just in time to walk straight into Blair.

He, of course, bounced off. Blair swore she could hear faint laughter from the empty guest room. The Grave Keeper looked up at her. "Oh, sorry about that." Blair looked down at him. Through her haze of panic and rage, she hadn't really taken in his appearance yesterday, but he was not what she had expected when she heard the title Grave Keeper.

She doubted he was a hair over five foot for starters, and he was almost painfully thin, though she knew her standards were skewed slightly since a werewolf had to work to not have a six-pack. He had gaunt features, messy black hair that spilled over his ears, and sunken green eyes.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

But despite his height and the clothes that currently made him look like a child in hand-me-downs. He looked up at her with a confidence that belonged on someone a foot and a half taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier.

Blair's gaze slipped to the raised, purple bruises around his throat.

She had caught him when he'd passed out. She'd kept the storm of household objects out of the closet. But once they had stopped, Blair had nothing to do but stand there, hoping the two of them would wake up.

She had been helpless to do anything as she saw wounds form and heal on Bobby. Helpless to do anything when the bruises formed around the Grave Keeper's throat.

The old woman's words echoed in Blair's mind. "Shesh, this one's a crazy bastard, considering the price."

Damn hag, and damn Blair for being so helpless. She realized she was glaring down at the Grave Keeper and shook herself.

"If you're thinking I'm crazy because I was talking to an empty room, then don't worry. I was just talking to the people you can't see," The Grave Keeper said. He scowled, shook his head, winced in pain, and then looked back up at her. "Wait, that came out wrong." Blair considered what to say, then decided to just ignore that statement altogether.

They had a more pressing matter. "We need to discuss payment."

~<>~

"We need to discuss payment," the werewolf said after I did a terrible job at not acting crazy.

Crap, I hated this part, especially with werewolves. Their pride and honor were all tangled up together in a confusing knot that I could never decipher.

I held up a hand to stop the woman. "No."

She raised a blond brow. "No?"

I nodded and winced internally. I probably could have been more diplomatic about that.

"I don't take payment when it comes to ghosts."

She stared at me, confusion with a hint of annoyance written plain on her face.

"Why?"

"It's not because I hate money or anything like that. If you asked me to dig you a hole or install a fence, I am quite handy with a shovel, then I'd expect some cash. but this was a ghost problem, so you don't owe me anything."

The werewolf's face slowly lost all expression until it was a blue-eyed mask staring down at me.

"Why."

I grimaced. "How did you know to come to me for help? You just got into town."

"I overheard some townsfolk talking about you. Said that you come into town to clear out the fiends."

I nodded. I needed to go do that. Actually, it was almost the end of the month.

"When somethings wrong, when a shade tries to stab Don's pig. When a mad ghost starts attacking hikers, or the town hall is filled with sourceless screams, they come to me." I met her eyes, which wasn't a great idea, but while I was doing a lot better than when I'd first woken up, I was still far from mentally whole.

"They come to me, and they come to me without hesitation because they know that I'll help them. It doesn't matter if they're a rich family from the overlook or only have a few dollars to their name. I'll help. And if I didn't have that policy, some people would hesitate, and that hesitation might get them or someone else killed. That's why I don't take payment for ghost problems."

The tension started to build, an almost physical pressure coming off the woman. It filled the hall and pushed against me. It, combined with her gaze, told me I was in the presence of a predator, one far higher up the food chain than me. Of course, I already knew the intellectually, but that pressure made me feel it as a sense of danger and dread pushed against my senses, like a thousand tiny needles gently bruising my skin.

Then the mask cracked, and the pressure vanished. A slight, almost nonexistent smile formed on her lips.

"Fine. I can accept and respect that policy. But that doesn't mean we're square."

Dammit. I was afraid I'd read her right. I'd helped another werewolf with a possession, and while she had accepted that I wouldn't take payment— "I owe a debt." She had said that.

I scowled at the woman. "A debt, huh."

"Yes. And aside from that," she paused, and the pressure returned in full force. "I name you a friend of the Pack. You will have our protection and find a safe haven anytime you meet with one of the Northwoods pack." She spoke with formal gravity, like a queen making a decree.

I blinked, a little taken off guard. That second part was pretty hardcore for werewolves.

Cagle, the werewolf I'd helped before, had claimed to owe me a debt and that they'd have my back, but naming me a friend of the Pack was something more formal. I wasn't even sure of what all it entailed, but I knew it was a big deal to them.

"I- ahh, thank you," I said. Eloquence and grace, your name is Alder.

Part of me wanted to immediately call in the debt and just ask for a ride home. Having a werewolf Alpha owe you a debt, which was pretty much like having the whole Pack owe you a debt, was incredibly valuable. However, it was also annoying since it was cheating my no payment rule.

I wasn't going to try and argue with the woman since debating with a werewolf about something related to their honor or pride was like bashing your head against a steel wall.

But it still irked me. But well, the thought of using the debt on something stupid like a car ride was kind of funny; she would probably take insult to it and wouldn't consider the debt fulfilled.

So all that would accomplish was getting her mad at me.

No aggravating the werewolf that can rip you in half, Alder.

"Can I have my clothes back, and could you give me a ride back to the graveyard?"

Her lips split into a genuine smile, the coldness of her face vanishing like a ghost.

"Gladly, ah-" she paused. "I don't actually know your name."

I extended my hand. "Alder."

She took it and shook, her grip firm but not crushing. "Blair Northwood." I pulled back, and had to hold back a shudder. Her hand was so... warm.

A few minutes later, Blair came back with a familiar stack of clothes with a small pocket notebook on top. Said notebook had been in my jeans pocket. You never knew when a ghost who couldn't speak might float around.

I was lost in thought as we walked, my focus on trying to sort through the memories that sat just beneath the surface of my mind.

We were almost to the front door when Blair spoke up, shaking me from my reverie.

"How do you know this place so well?"

I looked back at her and only then realized that I had taken the lead. I had guided us along the quickest route through the manor, taking all the servant halls and shortcuts we had come across.

To be more accurate, Niall's memories had guided us.

I turned a shudder into a shrug. "I have a good memory for pathways."

From the look Blair gave me, I must have failed to properly hide the shudder. That or she could smell my partial lie.

I knew werewolves could smell emotions, but I was never sure exactly how it worked. Could they smell partial lies?

Blair stared for a second before shrugging and walking past me.

Oof. I had walked in front of her as well. She could definitely take that as an insult. Or maybe she'd take it as a sign of trust that she wouldn't attack me while my back was turned?

It was hard to tell what was safe and what wasn't when dealing with a Were you didn't know.

I followed Blair outside. "I didn't see anyone else inside, is the rest of your pack in town?"

A blond head nodded, but she didn't turn towards me. She was too busy glaring at a section of the vans' artwork. A picture of a blond wolf with an apron scolding three smaller wolves wearing school uniforms.

"They didn't take the van?"

"They can run into town a lot faster, especially with these roads."

Right, werewolves.

Blair opened the passenger door for me, quite gallant of her, and I climbed in.

Blair slid into the driver seat, then paused.

She turned to face me, and she looked...awkward, maybe?

So looked like she had just bit into a lemon, and a hint of red was forming on her pale cheeks.

"I have a favor to ask." Every word was deliberate, and I could almost feel her desire to hesitate.

"Would you be a voucher for the Northwoods pack. I wouldn't ask you, especially after what you just did for us, but the son of another major pack has gone around ruining our chances at getting vouchers."

I raised a brow. "Tall, leather jacket, with an attitude in desperate need of punching?" her eyes narrowed, and she nodded.

"He came by my graveyard right before you did, which was partly why I was so quick to pull the shotgun, that and the whole van thing. Sucker tried to hit me with a protection racket on his first day in town. I could almost respect the audacity if he weren't so insufferable."

A hot flash of rage lit up Blair's face for a moment before cooling into something harder. "That dumbass. If it were anyone else, I'd think he was trying to deliberately sabotage us."

"Hey, he still could be. It's always the ones you don't expect, after all."

I buckled my seatbelt, then stared straight ahead. "Give me a minute to think about the voucher. I'll have an answer by the time we're at the yard."

Blair nodded and turned the key.

Asking for the voucher had cost the werewolf something.

If it was a risk-free thing, I'd consider it, but if I gave my voucher, that would give the factions at large reason to pay attention to me. They took vouchers very seriously. Everyone who wasn't stupid did. Since giving out your voucher to the wrong group could get your town razed.

You couldn't buy a voucher. All of the factions had voted that one needed to gain them in good faith, and they enforced that law and looked into the vouchers with more gusto than the IRS.

So if I gave the Northwoods mine, I would be scrutinized by the factions. While most wouldn't care about a supposed hedge-mage giving out his voucher aside from checking to make sure my bank account hadn't suddenly tripled in size, the Mage clans would be one of those factions.

If they found out I was a Telss... my life would be over. A Telss, especially a male one, was worth more than their weight in 24 karat gold.

It wasn't because I was so mighty or my magic so rare. Though my magic was pretty rare, they'd take me to be a breeding slave.

Roughly one in seven mage children would be mages in turn.

While not all would be full mages, Telss children always had Talent. So a male Telss represented what all the Mage clans craved. Long-term power.

Over the span of centuries, a Telss could sire a lot of kids, a large number of which would directly bolster a clan's ranks.

So being a voucher directly was out. I wasn't going to take that risk.

But that didn't mean I couldn't get the Northwoods vouchers. So long as they were sentient and met the other requirements for being part of a community, Ghosts could give a valid voucher.

But just because I could give the Northwoods vouchers didn't necessarily mean I should. I didn't know them. While Blair had shown great care for her Pack and kindness towards me after the whole 'get in the van thing,' I still didn't know her or her Pack.

So, I called in someone who probably did.

I unveiled my aura but kept it tightly contained, barely letting it leave my seat.

I formed a quick mental image of Rogers.

I started with his feet and went up from there. My speed at this had increased over the years. A process that used to take long minutes passed in less than thirty seconds.

Brown boots, worn from use but kept clean. Hairy legs clad in dark green shorts, a large barrel chest with thick arms, covered by a forest service jacket. A great bushy red beard that covered a stern face. A stern face that couldn't hide the kindness in his robin's egg blue eyes.

Top it all off with an extremely shinny and extremely bald head.

I held the image, then I tore off a tiny piece of my Shroud. It was less than an hour's worth of power, but it was still an hour I would have to spend just to get back to where I was now.

I pushed the image into the section of Shroud, willing it to stick, then I sent it out.

The piece of purple and green power zipped away, leaving my sight almost instantly.

A few seconds later, Rodgers appeared in the back seat. "What is it?"

I opened my notepad and started writing. Rodgers immediately started reading over my shoulder.

The Northwood pack, what do you know about them?

"Northwoods, they are arguably the strongest werewolf pack in Europe, maybe even the world. Why are you asking? Ah, gotcha. I thought I recognized this young lady."

You've met her before?

"No, but I met the Alphas of the Northwood pack when I was alive."

She said her last name was Northwood.

"That her pack was Northwood or her actual last name."

last name

"She does bear a striking resemblance to her parents."

Rodgers floated in front of Blair, his lower body phasing through the van's engine.

"Hmm, what exactly do you want to know about them."

Numb as I was to ghostly shenanigans, it was more than a little unnerving to see Rodgers seemingly block Blair's view of the road, even if I knew she couldn't see him.

She asked me to be a voucher. Obviously, I can't do it myself, but that doesn't mean I couldn't still get them vouchers

Rodgers hummed as he looked Blair over. She was focused on the road, trying her best to keep the car from getting air.

"The Northwoods...can be ruthless, brutal even. And Mrs. Northwoods hates humans. Not dislikes, mind you, hates."

Rodgers leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he used the hood he was sticking out of like a backrest. "But they are also fair, even to humans. You never want them as your enemies, but there are few better allies. I had some...adventures with them back in my day, and they never turned their back on me, even if they didn't trust me. If they give their word, they'll keep it. End of story."

Thanks.

"Use punctuation consistently or do not use it at all."

I smiled as I closed the notebook. Rodgers had always been something of a grammar hound.

I mulled over his words as the van bucked and shook. It was honestly a little impressive the thing hadn't come apart at the seams under the onslaught that was the north road.

I had never researched the major werewolf packs. So, while I had heard the name Northwood a few times, I didn't know anything about them personally.

But if Rodgers said they were trustworthy, then they were trustworthy.

But did that mean I should get them vouchers?

It might. If I could get Blair's word, or her parents' word, that they'd act with the town and it's peoples best interest in mind, that could be huge.

I didn't know all the factions that were coming, but if they genuinely believed that the Burrow King was a legitimate threat to all of them, and their grips on power, then a lot of groups were going to show up.

And a lot of them weren't going to give a shit about Silver-Spruce.

Sure, the voucher system was supposed to curtail factions who didn't give a shit about a place being able to just wreck it without backlash. But no system was perfect.

And much of said backlash would depend on which factions got their vouchers.

There were big differences between supernatural politics and human ones.

Even the worst dictators usually tried to frame what they were doing as a good thing. Even while committing wholesale slaughter.

Some of the factions...human concepts of morality didn't even register to them. If they needed to level a city to get to their goal, the morality of it wouldn't enter the conversation, only how to get it done.

While werewolves could differ drastically from humans, they weren't that alien to us. And in most cases, they were just people.

Either out of pure luck or my knowing my decision-making process way better than I thought I did, we arrived at the graveyard just as I made up my mind.

I turned to Blair as she pulled the van to a stop.

"Can you give me your word that your votes will have the best interest of Silver-Spruce and its people in mind?"

She met my eyes and spoke without an ounce of hesitation.

"Yes."

I looked into those eyes, and I knew that I didn't know them well enough.

If I stood up for her to the ghosts, they would back me. And well, the pressure of that kind of decision made me queasy. The ghosts respected me. I had the authority to make that call.

But there was another ghost who could make that call, and the time it would take to bring Blair to her would let me get a better read for the imposing werewolf.

There is a more direct method you could use. You would know her character for sure.

I frantically shoved that thought aside. I couldn't take the risk of backlash, not right now, not after, Niall.

Which left the long way.

I was no saint, but if I got vouchers for a faction that actually cared about the town and its people, that could make a world of difference. I nodded to myself without looking away from the werewolf.

"How long until the summit."

"two weeks."

I nodded again. We had enough time.

"I'll take you to someone who can get you all vouchers you need."

I smiled. "I hope you like hiking."

End of part one.