Greystone Ridge Novels & Stories

“Susan says you need to keep your energy up. Sitting here worrying about a ghost is only going to drain you further. I want to show you something.” They drove away from the main estate, heading toward the small, charming village of Norwood Green that sat nestled in the valley. The town felt like a page from a storybook, cobblestone streets, flower boxes in the windows, and a sense of community that was entirely absent from the city mansion and estate of the Silver Crescent Pack. Oscar pulled the jeep over in front of an old, two-story building on the corner of the main square. It was beautiful but weathered, with large bay windows that looked out over a small park.

These herbs or those. She bought rosemary because she always bought rosemary now. She bought a coffee from the stall she liked and walked back through the east side streets with her bag and her coffee and the cool clear morning around her. She turned the corner onto Greystone Avenue without thinking about it. It was a route she had taken a hundred times before. The market was on the east side and her apartment was north and Greystone Avenue was the most direct way between them. She had walked it before the divorce and she walked it now and it was just a street. Just a corner. Just the ordinary city going about its Saturday.

The silence here wasn't the peaceful quiet of the sanctuary; it was the airless, metallic weight of an industrial grave. Below us, Iron Ridge sat nestled in the throat of a collapsed silver mine like a crown of rusted iron and shattered glass. Toxic neon indigo flickered through the haze—advertisements for bootleg silver-salt and black-market adrenaline that had no business being so bright in a world that had forgotten the sun.

I replied with a roll of my eyes. Alpha Cadell held a ball in his very fancy, and extremely huge, mansion. He said it was a celebration for his arrival at the new town. I was sure it wasn't only that. "Just keep your manners. We will be in and out before you even know it." Morgana stressed, and nodded her head at some woman with a winged face mask. Did I mention that this is a masquerade? We live in Midwick, Virginia. A very small and very beautiful town, which one would feel was built right in the middle of the woods.

CALLUM The Cedar Ridge ski resort is a winter tourist trap that sits just outside the edge of the six-pack’s territory, owned and operated by the six shifter packs that reside within. Since we generally keep to ourselves, the ski resort was built as an income stream to keep our towns afloat, as well as the Cedar Ridge brewery just down the road. The ski resort is shuttered in the summer months, but the brewery is open all year round so we have consistent revenue. It’s a smart setup, but it also tempts us into wandering off-territory more than we probably should.

A place away from the city center where no one would look twice. I tapped my chin, searching through my memories of the timeline. Suddenly, a specific name surfaced. *The Obsidian Ridge Estate.* It was a premium residential development built five years ago on the rugged, rocky northern cliffs outside Oakhaven. At the time, the public mocked the developer. The location was considered poor—isolated, windy, difficult to access via standard transit, and bordered by steep hills. Sales had been abysmally low, leaving the estate practically a ghost town.

“Urban Crest Subdivision.” I should have known. Urban Crest was somewhere that I had only heard about but never seen as it was a gated community for only the richest and most elite in Wood Haven. A nervous thrill went through my body as I realized I was actually excited to see the big huge homes. I was so happy that it wasn’t dark yet so I could actually see and appreciate them.

The signal had grown unreliable, and satellite positioning drifted, but older map data still provided accurate distances. After a quick check, Cyrus had his answer. "Greenvich Academy sits in the West Ridge District. The straight-line distance from Cloudcrest Manor is 14 miles. At that range, even a single connected phone call is a miracle." Scarlett and Zoey froze, then understanding dawned on their faces. "So that's why." Cyrus looked at Scarlett and said with a teasing edge, "Or maybe she thought you were already dead and did not bother calling." Scarlett clenched her fists. "No way. I'm… I'm a grown adult, okay?"

“Nah.” He tried to ignore the chill running up his spine. ⏩ The Next Morning He didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Just showed up. Greystone Tower was one of those buildings you didn’t walk into unless you had a badge or a Rolex. The kind of place with its own elevator music, silent lobby guards, and receptionists who judged your shoes before they looked at your face. Noah wore jeans and a button-up that didn’t quite fit his shoulders. When he told the front desk he had a 10 a.m. appointment with Merrick, Laughton & Ruelle, the receptionist blinked twice before handing him a temporary visitor badge without a word.

“Make sure to get the good shrooms.” “Dad!” I say, faking my shock. “Are you suggesting I bring you illegal drugs?” “Don’t be so uptight.” We all laugh, and I wave goodbye to Dad and Wendy, setting off down the driveway. It’s about a ten-minute walk to the nature preserve, which surrounds the lake. There are hiking trails with gorgeous views, and it’s so hot and humid today there aren’t many people on them. Silver Ridge is a small town, but people travel from all over to walk these trails and use our lake. The stigma of glaring at outsiders is strong here, and it’s easy to spot someone visiting from out of town.