Free All Hallow's Howl by Cait Forester Page A

out the bowl and spoon, grabs a knife from the block and the carton of salt from the shelf. The emergency candles are in the junk drawer, along with skewers - he doesn’t have another one of those long matches handy. He slides out the side door without anyone noticing and after a quick rummage in the foot well he finds the lone pomegranate.
    He’s got to be quick. Jamie isn’t going to keep his distance and waste the time he has left, and he’s seriously pushing the time he’s been gone. Dylan sneaks back into the house in a hurry and draws out the salt lines; once he’s started the ritual, he doesn’t think anyone will stop him. He hopes.
    It might not work. He knows that. The original ritual was supposed to be done in the ‘dark of Samhain’ and Halloween was over, but if what Jamie said was right and the old traditions meant Samhain to be a three day festival, then maybe it still counted. It would be really awkward if he accidentally summoned a different mate, of course, but he was banking on needing to talk to that voice again.
    Jamie comes around the corner just as he’s opening his mouth to say the ritual words. Dylan looks up at him, wide-eyed and apologetic, but he doesn’t stop. The words come tumbling out of him in a hurry, and the pained look on Jamie’s face - oh no no no, he thinks I’m betraying him! - makes him feel cold to the core.
    He doesn’t have any time to brace himself for the pain before the white-hot pain fills his skull, and Jamie rushes forward when he gasps with it. Dylan reaches out for him, but Jamie stops short - something is preventing him from crossing the line of the circle.
    You were already given what you want , the voice sounds in his head.
    Dylan swallows. “I know,” he says. “I thank you for it.”
    Then why have you performed the ritual again? Are you not satisfied with one soul mate?
    “I am!” he says. His eyes lock on Jamie’s face. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t have a fancy petition or speech for his request. “Please don’t take him from me,” he whispers.
    The voice doesn’t speak for a long moment, but the pain still fills him. It’s not as sharp - it’s settled into something dull but undeniably present, and he can’t move much for fear he’ll need to hurl if he jerks the wrong way.
    Why should we grant your request?
    Dylan flicks his tongue out to lick his lips. They’re dry. He’s panting; it feels like he’s run a marathon, even though he’s only sitting on the floor of his kitchen. “I don’t have anything to offer you,” he says. “Except that I love him.”
    There is always a price.
    He closes his eyes for a long second. “Name it.”
    The balance must be kept. A life for a life.
    He shakes his head instinctively and bites his lip at the pain. Had it hurt this much the first time? “I can’t do that!” he cries out. “I can’t barter with anyone else’s life. That’s not mine to give.”
    The voice is sly when it speaks again, almost considering. Not even lives that aren’t living yet?
    He swallows. “What do you mean?”
    A life for a life. That is our price, the voice intones. Your mate may stay with you in exchange for your fertility.
    The thought is completely foreign to him. Unless some terrible misfortune befalls them, omegas are fertile. It is just a fact, like the sun rising in the mornings. Even though he’s never wanted pups right away, and even though he had been prepared to not have any at all - being unable to have Jamie - the idea of being completely infertile is a shock to his system.
    “You mean I would be a beta?”
    No, the voice says patiently. You are an omega; that cannot change. Your womb will be closed, but your mate will remain.
    Jamie is standing as close as the boundary will let him get. His face is puzzled and curious, his eyes blown wide in worry and fear. Dylan realizes that no one else can hear the voice; beyond Jamie, he sees his father and his friends crowding at the kitchen