Page 3 of A Castle of Broken Memories

“I see.” A missive from Abuela, Raz's ominous beanstalk painting… opening one of my cupboards, I found the bottle of whiskey I kept tucked in the back and splashed some into my mug. I had a feeling straight tea wasn't going to cut it. “So what, you're Abuela's new messenger boy? Is that your official job now?”

“Actually,” Tenebris said, flashing me a toothy grin. “I'm a model.”

Well. Didn't see that coming. “Seriously?” I asked, measuring out tea leaves. “You're a male model?”

“That's right,” he stated. “I was scouted shortly after my arrival. My agent is a pack member, maybe you know him—does the name Rupert Lancing ring any bells?”

“Vaguely. He left the forest around the same time as Abuela, I believe.”

“That sounds right,” Tenebris agreed. “Anyway, we met and he immediately snapped me up as a client. I've been doing it for almost two years now. I love it.”

“Huh. Well, good for you. It sounds like you're making a real life for yourself out there.”

“Did you expect anything less?” He flashed me a cocky smile, but I couldn’t help but notice the way it frayed at the edges. As if there was more to the story he wasn’t sharing—not that I’d pry it out of him. If he wanted to talk, he would.

I poured hot water into the prepared mugs, taking a moment to breathe in the rising steam. “And your love life? Any hot new prospects?”

“I do all right,” he said, avoiding my eyes as I passed him a mug.

“I'm sure you do.” I studied his face. “Anyone serious?”

“I'm far too young for anything serious,” he scoffed.

“Ah yes, you're just a green pup of twenty-two years. Not an old crone like me. How easily I forget.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're hardly an old crone. I should know—I’ve been inside you.”

“That just makes me a cougar.”

“You're thirty, not eighty,” he pointed out. “What's with the old lady talk, anyway? It's not like you to be self-deprecating.”

I sat down with a sigh. “I don't know, lately I just feel so tired all the time.”

“The boys wearing you out?” Tenebris teased.

“That's just it, though. I haven't been with any of them in ages. It's like the moment the forest started brightening and things got better with Lyall, my libido flew out the window. I have friends now, Tenebris, and my last threesome was over two years ago.” I shook my head. “I hardly recognize myself anymore.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it means you're finally ready to move on and find someone new to bond with. Or someones. Whichever.”

“There’s nothing to move on from,” I retorted. “I’m just not interested in serious relationships. They don’t suit me.” Nor did spinning out of control and hurting the people I loved when my partner ultimately abandoned me. That really didn’t suit me. Never again.

“So… a missive from Abuela, huh?” I slid the envelope over and ran my thumb under the seam, breaking the seal. “Any idea what it says?”

“Not a clue. Just that it’s time sensitive.” Tenebris sipped his tea as he watched me pull out a folded sheet of paper. I glanced at the creased parchment, the familiar handwriting pinging me with a stab of homesickness. It really had been too long since I’d seen her. I took a gulp of whiskey-enhanced tea to steady my nerves and read:

My Dear Little Red,

I know, I know. You’re not so little any more, even if it feels like only yesterday that you were perched on that rickety wooden stool in my kitchen, your face scrunched up in concentration while you mixed your first potion. I miss my little apprentice shadow with her constant questions. You worked hard to become a great witch like your father, rest his soul. I pray you’ve kept those skills sharp, for I have need of them now.

I’ve received a message, you see. From the beyond. (Goodness, that sounded dramatic, didn’t it? I’m afraid your friend Tenebris has been rubbing off on me. But I digress.) You’re familiar with my abilities—half werewolf, half witch, I’m one serious chignona, if I do say so myself. Not unlike my nieta. But badass as we both may be, my particular brand of magic differs from yours. It speaks to me, whispers to me in my dreams.

Last night they whispered of a castle on the clouds, of a beanstalk left to rot and wither, its caretakers drawn into the darkness. And they spoke of a soul crying out for help behind lonely stone walls.

Mariana, I believe that someone is trapped inside the Sky Castle. Someone who’s not meant to be there.

But… that was impossible. No one in my lifetime had even attempted to climb the beanstalk. Not only was it forbidden, it was stupidly lethal. Unless this someone got stuck before the barrier formed… someone Abuela’s age? But that would mean they’d been up there for—I shivered—fifty, almost sixty, years. And what did all of this have to do with me?

As the grand-alpha and resident bruja de ensueño of the Cabrera Clan, I can’t ignore this blatant cry for help. I am duty bound to help this poor lost soul in any way I can, only… I am ashamed to admit I’ve grown too frail to pass through the forest barrier, much less the one at the top of the beanstalk. Which is why I need you to go in my place.