Page 103 of Bewitching the Wolf

Another life.

Lived by another Jax Summers.

As if on cue, the lights dim, just as predicted by the runes.

All around us, peripherals stop working. They look around them, stare down at their clothing, at each other. Their faces are no longer blank, but full of surprise.

And then they amble away, sit down, propping themselves against fences. Some fall forward onto their knees, asleep; others manage to lie down first.

The dissociative fugue has fallen on them like an invisible curtain.

We pass sleeping soldiers at their sentry posts, workers slumped onto their elbows as if daydreaming. Drivers asleep at the wheels of their trucks.

On we march, through the swirling mist of the Crossroads, the place where the illusion of Sparkle City turns into the dark wastelands of the Periphery.

Soon, I think, gritting my teeth. Soon this whole place will be exposed for the sham it’s always been.

The mist swirls heavy around our band of monsters, obscuring our vision, but it doesn’t matter. We know where we are headed.

Out the other side of the Crossroads, we stride along streets where the buildings get taller and grander, glittering glass and metal, until we’re in the very heart of the city.

As we walk past the municipal building, the lights dim.

We approach DeVines department store and the same thing happens.

Every building, every street becomes dull and murky. Humans sit on benches, heads in hands, or wander aimlessly, somehow not bumping into anything. The fugue will keep them safe from harm.

Only the lights of Devine Tower blaze out, neon bright, signaling that whoever is in there is not surrendering

As we approach, we realize the doors are locked. Barred with thick pieces of metal.

We grind to a halt.

Everyone’s eyes are on me, looking to me for guidance.

Fuck.

I gulp hard. Then I say the words that Mom taught me last night before we left the Vault.

“Sheram Depa Potana.”

And the doors, the bars, the whole structure of the ornate entrance, melt away. We all surge inside. I take the lead.

A part of me feels uneasy as we make our way across the polished marble floor.

Sure, I know the magic is strong, but we’ve encountered absolutely no opposition so far. The malefic powers have held us imprisoned for centuries, and managed to overthrow our previous rebellion. Isn’t this a little too simple? Too easy?

Otis feels it too. He pauses turns and speaks to Traggar, who halts. Then addresses the assembled warriors.

“Take the stairs and get ready to shift, lads. There is likely to be resistance. Jax and the sheriffs, take the elevators. We’ll meet you up there.”

The Opal Office would usually be accessed by code only, but as soon as we are inside the elevator, the doors close and whoosh us up to the top floor.

When the doors spring open, there’s an eerie stillness.

Otis, Silas, Kazmo and Brody move forward stealthily. I follow, equally cautious, even though I am invisible now.

The stairwell doors open and the wolf warriors surge out. The corridor ahead is empty.