Cursed Wolf: Urban Fantasy Shifter Stand-Alone (Creatures of the otherworld Book 1)

by Brogan Thomas

  I lift my chin and look him directly in the eye to show that I mean business. “My mum and my sister, you’ll let them go, now that I am in the car with you. Ring your men, and please let my pack go.” I know he said nothing of the sort, but maybe I can shame him into letting them go—it’s worth a shot. He might want just me. If that’s the case, I can make it easy for him to do the right thing. “I did what you asked—now let them go.”

  He tilts his head to the side, looking at me like I am stupid. His hand comes up, and he taps his fingers to his mouth. Once, twice, squishing his puffy lips.

  “No,” is his reply. I open my mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stops me. Instead, I turn and gaze out the window. His blue-grey eyes have turned black, totally, freakily black. A primal shiver runs down my back, and I do my best to suppress the total and utter horror. I realise that I won’t be kicking demon ass today.

  The truth is, my mum would struggle to hurt him. He isn’t just a demon—he is a first-level demon. I know with sudden clarity that we are all as good as dead.

  I perch on the edge of the seat, spine straight, and focus outside the car, keeping my eyes wide to stop my fear from leaking down my face. I don’t want to cry; I don’t want to show any weakness. It would be a win to him. I might be nine, but I am stubborn, and however long I have to live, I will do so with my head held high. Being brave isn’t about not being frightened; it is about being shit-scared but still doing the scary thing anyway. The right thing. If I can protect my pack, I will.

  Be brave.

  “Are you not wondering how I found you?” No, I don’t want to know how I messed up. I watch the demon out of the corner of my eye. “My men tracked you to the hotel, but we lost you. You put a scent masker on, what a smart little wolf you are. It made me want to find you all the more. Your mother was equally tricky. Puff, she was gone”—he wiggles his fingers—“completely disappeared. But your stepfather, Dave...my my, he was too easy.” The demon tuts. “With half his DNA, it is no wonder Grace is not good enough for my collection.” I turn my head to look at him. “What a horrid, snivelling creature Dave is.” He chuckles. “I didn’t even touch him”—he shrugs, shows me his palms, and wiggles his fingers, pouting—“he was squealing like a pig. His life, his daughter’s life for your mother’s. For you.” He raises an eyebrow, doing a fake sad face. “Such a wealth of information, so quick to tell me where he was going to meet your mother. So quick to tell me your protocols and how to find you—he even called off your bodyguards. That’s why you were on your own.” He shakes his head mockingly. His eyes are sparkling and finally back to their original colour. “I cannot quite believe your mother chose such a weak mate, especially after your father. That’s why you are going to be safer in my care, my dear Forrest. These imbecilic wolves don’t deserve you.” He pokes my leg.

  I want to shout at him that it isn’t true, that he’s lying. I know demons are said to twist things. But if I am honest, really honest, it sounds like he’s telling the truth. I don’t call my stepdad “dickhead Dave” for nothing.

  “Now there’s you, a nine-year-old child on her own with the enemy, no snivelling, no crying, only a proud little chin held high and a single demand to release your pack. You could rule the world with that attitude, young Forrest...yes, you’re very intriguing. I think I shall keep you.” He nods and quickly leans forward, tapping the end my nose again. His bright smile makes me want to puke.

  I am dragged into a warehouse building, Scruffy One and Two holding me between them. Scruffy One is squeezing my upper arm painfully, probably in revenge for the punch to the balls and throat. The demon is strutting in front of us.

  “A pack reunion—how wonderful.” I can’t see around him— something for which I will be eternally grateful. Blood, sweat, and a strange cloying musty scent I can't identify fills my nose. Combined with the stench of demons and humans, the whole place smells like I've stepped into Hell.

  I gag. Some inbuilt alert in my head is going nuts, and my instincts are screaming at me to run.

  “Now, now, gentlemen, not something we should do to our lovely guest. Pull your trousers up, that’s a good chap.” The demon chuckles and shakes his head in amusement, wagging a finger at me as he turns. “Look, Forrest, at what your naughtiness has done. Your poor mother had to entertain all my men while you were running around the airport. What a bad little girl you are.” He steps away, and for the first time, I see my mum.

  She is on her hands and knees on the dirty concrete floor. Blood on her face, her lip is split, and there’s blood between her legs. I don’t understand why she hasn’t got any clothes on. Perhaps she’s going to shift into her wolf form to heal? That’s the only reason I can think of why she would be naked. Tears fill my eyes. I can hear my little sister crying.

  I scan around frantically for Grace. She’s fighting with her dad, trying desperately to get to our mum. She wiggles out of her coat, leaving it behind in his grasp, and runs across the building at a speed only a toddler can do. Nobody stops her as she throws herself into my mum’s arms. If I weren’t being held back, I would be doing the same. I watch my mum hug Grace to her chest, and I can hear her saying to Grace how much she loves her.

  My mum looks up and meets my eyes. She gives me a tearful but determined smile. “I love you so very much, Forrest. Sticking to our plan...I’m so proud of you—you have been such a courageous girl. I need you to be brave for a little bit longer. Can you do that for me?” I nod. The tears I was valiantly holding in now trickle down my face. I hiccup a sob. “I am so sorry I couldn’t keep you both safe,” my mum says. The desolation in her eyes almost breaks me.

  She nods meaningfully.

  I know what my mum wants me to do. My heart pounds in my ears, and it’s difficult to breathe with the lump in my throat.

  My hoodie has plastic toggles at the end of the cords that tighten the hood. The toggles are cone-shaped and are the perfect place to hide a potion ball.

  “I love you too,” I whisper. The lump in my throat makes it difficult to speak.

  Everything after that happens so fast. Yet at the same time, it feels like a lifetime passes as I watch my mum take Grace’s face in her hands. She smiles down at Grace and wipes the tears from her chubby face with her thumbs. Mum gently strokes Grace’s blonde hair—a perfect match for her own—out of her eyes. She leans down and kisses my baby sister gently on the forehead.

  From one breath to the next, my mum sharply twists Grace’s head to the side, breaking her neck.

  My baby sister slumps, dead, into my mum’s arms.

  The howl of anguish from my mum is chilling as she clutches Grace to her chest with trembling hands. With a look of such sadness in my direction, my mum’s fingers on her right hand shift to claws, and with a quick clean motion, Mum slashes her own throat open.

  The two men let go of me, rushing towards my mum and Grace.

  Sometimes the last move you have is to extract yourself from the hands of your enemy permanently. With a sob, determined, I place the toggle with the poisonous potion ball in my mouth, and I bite down.

  Onto a finger.

  The demon has shoved his finger into my mouth.

  With his free hand, he smacks the back of my head; the poisonous potion ball hits the floor, smashing. Useless.

  “Naughty puppy!” the demon scolds. He keeps his finger in my mouth, and his other hand snakes around my throat. He pulls me to his chest, preventing me from moving. He shakes me a little in frustration. “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” he quietly says. Then more loudly, he snarls at the demons and humans in the room. “You must have broken her, you fucking idiots! Dave.” He turns his anger towards my stepdad and pulls me around to face him. His finger is still in my mouth and digs into my cheek. “I am down two females. What have you to say?”

  Dave, my stepdad, is on his knees, hugging Grace’s coat. He shakes his head from side to side in shock, his eyes never leaving the crumpled bodies.

  My mum neve
r looked at Dave once, I think numbly. She never told him she loved him.

  My suspicions are confirmed when Dave says, “You were only supposed to take Forrest. Not my little girl. We had a deal for you to take Forrest, but not my Grace, not my Grace.” He rocks forward and back, stroking the coat in his hands. His expression is one of agony.

  This is all Dave’s fault—my mum, my sister, it’s all his fault.

  Dave finally lifts his eyes from the little pink jacket. “We had a deal!” he screams.

  I feel the demon shrug. “I didn’t kill them.” He waves a hand at Dave. “Someone shut him up. Kill the useless fuck, he is getting on my nerves.”

  I wobble in the demon’s arms. My knees go weak as the men surround Dave. His yelling is abruptly silenced with a wet-sounding gurgle.

  Everything hits me at once. I failed. I’ve failed my mum. She would be so angry with me.

  Something inside me snaps, and my body starts to shake.

  I don’t want to be here anymore.

  I don’t want to be here anymore, repeats over and over in my head.

  Magic floods my body, and I embrace the feeling. I fall into my magic.

  I escape into the darkness.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hear the demon shout, and then nothing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I catch John’s voice as he continues his report, pulling me from the horrors of my past. I bury them again inside my head in a box marked Do not fucking touch.

  I run my hand shakily through my hair, trying to tamp down my anxiety over the horrific memories. On my other hand, my finger is swollen and red. I have been wrapping the thread of the cover around it, cutting off the circulation. I stare at the digit in fascination.

  “Forrest shifted extremely early, as you can see. Although she was only nine, she impressively managed to kill two humans and a lower-level demon before they contained her by knocking her unconscious.” I lift my head, and as John talks, a 3D video of the CCTV clip plays. My mouth pops open in shock as I watch.

  I watch myself attack three of the bad guys. I killed them, or my subconscious piloting my wolf killed them, which should have been disturbing. But those men hurt my mum and I managed to get a small amount of justice.

  I had no idea I did that. To escape, I folded into myself and let the wolf take over. That first shift was a total blank to me, due to the whole trauma. I assumed I’d been knocked unconscious. Looking at the evidence, I have to admit to myself that I might have gone feral for a while.

  I am a killer, a murderer. The angry part of me rejoices, thrilled. I want to bounce in my seat with inappropriate excitement—what a badass.

  “Did she bite that demon’s…” one of the hellhounds says behind me, abject horror in his voice.

  Oh yeah, yes I did. In my head, Billie Eilish’s song “Bad Guy” plays. Huh, this is fantastic for my confidence—to see that wolf-me hadn’t started out so meek, so pathetic.

  “Yeah, fucking hell, looks like it.”

  I glance behind at the hellhounds. One of them gives me a supportive nod, while the other unconsciously shields himself. I snort. Nanny Hound gives me a little nudge to turn back around. I am such a badass I scare even hellhounds. I hum.

  John continues talking about the evidence collected and the details on the demon who acted as a broker. He also explains I was held for a further week and details the rescue.

  Everything around that time is hazy. I was in an awful place not only physically, but in my head. I was a mess.

  John skims the room, making sure he has everyone’s attention. Then he turns his focus on the pack. For the first time this evening since I sat down in this chair, I make myself look at them. I've been avoiding them. They frighten the shit out of me.

  Seeing and hearing the evidence must have been extremely hard, to see irrefutable proof that Dave, their father, had been a coward. Captured by a demon, he had given away the locations of three female pack members, two being vulnerable children. The rarity of shifter females also makes the crime particularly heinous.

  Vincent especially had built up his father to be the ultimate hero. Over the years, he made the Dave of his memory into someone he never was.

  Beth is sobbing in Harry’s arms. Jason is standing motionless, his face blank. Vincent, not bothering to comfort his mate, steps forward, his arms open wide in challenge.

  “Is this a joke? So that’s what you were hiding, John? Your bitch of a mother snapped Grace’s neck like a twig.” He clicks his fingers. I wince at the sound and the imagery that flashes into my head. “She was what, over a thousand years old, couldn’t handle a bit of rough sex, so she goes and tops herself,” Vincent snarls, “You heard my father—he made a deal to protect Grace. That crazy bitch didn’t need to kill her. I can see as clear as day what you’re doing here. Dragging my father’s name down to protect that thing?” He points at me, and I can’t help flinching. I wish he’d stop doing that. “Are you fucking kidding me? All this manipulative crap today, knowing what that crazy bitch did, makes me wish I’d hurt her dog of a daughter more. You want me to cry with guilt?” Vincent’s hate-filled brown eyes are on mine, his finger is still pointing at me. “Get fucked. If you leave it in the same room alone with me, I will finish the job I should have done years ago. You gave up the right when you dumped it at my door.” Vincent spits at the floor. His angry eyes never leave mine. He lifts his lip, showing me his teeth, and sneers at me. Nanny Hound growls behind me. I feel him move a step closer.

  John lets out a dark-sounding chuckle. “Forrest’s door, Vincent. Not your door.”

  “What?” Vincent’s head goes back a little in shock at John’s quiet answer, and his pointing arm drops.

  “The house, the grounds, the money is all Forrest’s. It has always been in Forrest’s name. Everything belonged to our mother, not the pack. Passed down to her sole surviving daughter.”

  Vincent grinds his teeth a little, and what looks like a flame lights John’s eyes, making them glow red. The hellhounds behind me move a little with discomfort, readying themselves to jump in and stop John if he loses control.

  “Let me be clear. If you or anyone calls my sister it one more time, I am going to kill you, and I am going to do it extremely slowly.” He makes eye contact with each member of the pack. None of them can meet his eye, let alone hold his gaze. Beth buries her face in Harry’s chest. “Now, Jason, have you got anything to add?” John asks the usually silent, creepy shifter.

  Jason looks at me, his dark eyes unemotional. The dead expression in his eyes screams retribution. I drop my gaze and fuss with the cover; I pull it higher and tuck it under my chin. I don’t want to be in this room. Why can’t they do this without me? Jason will not lose his composure and yell like Vincent even though Jason is Vincent’s puppet, his shadow. Jason is always in full control. Sadistic control.

  As expected, he shakes his head no.

  “Now, unless you make a derogatory comment about my sister, none of you are going to die tonight. What you are going to do is leave. You are no longer welcome in this house.” Vincent starts to protest but John waves away his comments. John’s voice drops. “I will kill you all if you don’t shut the fuck up.” A puff of smoke comes out of his mouth—similar to hot breath on a cold day. I blow out a little—nope, the room is warm. It’s John’s fire magic; he is running that hot. “You have thirty minutes to pack your shit. Take a bag with essentials only—one bag. The pack accounts are frozen, so don’t bother taking your cars, either. You're hereby banished from our society for crimes against a purebred female shifter. Everyone in agreement…”

  The two council members now step forward. They had been so quiet, I had forgotten about them. Which is stupid—you should never ignore the council. The taller of the two men, a golden-blond cat shifter, nods. “As a council witness, I agree.”

  “As a council member, I feel the sentence is too lenient. I would not be opposed to a death sentence. But as that is my personal opinion, I will witness
today, and I am also in agreement,” the smaller of the two men says; I think he’s a bear shifter. He glares at the pack. John nods his thanks.

  “Harry, stay behind. Beth, if you want to discuss your options, you can do that with me now. You do not have to stay with your mate. As you are human, I have the resources to help you. Banishment means a tough life, one you are not equipped for.”

  Beth gives a little nod. Still standing in Harry’s arms, she says quietly, “Vinny has continued to lie to me.” Looking at her mate, she calmly continues, “You told me so many horrible things about Forrest that are untrue. I know from this meeting today that they never happened.” She points at the floor where Vincent had been standing. “Just now I had to listen to you equate and trivialise rape as a bit of rough sex.” Beth shakes her head, her hazel eyes accusing, full of disappointment. “What is wrong with you, Vincent? If I was in that situation, would you expect me to lie back and think of England?” Her voice cracks and she starts to cry again. “I have spent eight years in this house, and I have watched your cruelty. I did nothing, nothing.” Beth pokes her own chest. “I could have done more, I should have done more. I alone am responsible for my non-action. I will never forgive myself, and I will never forgive you, Vincent. May I?” she asks John, nodding in my direction. John waves his arm, giving permission. Beth moves out of Harry’s arms, turns, and takes a few small steps towards me. Her eyes and nose are red from crying. “Forrest, I am sorry.” Another tear rolls down her cheek, and her lips tremble. I untangle my hand from underneath the cover, and with my thumb and forefinger, I make a wobbly OK sign. Beth lets out a little sob-laugh. “Okay,” she whispers back.

  “You’re leaving me?” Vincent says in disbelief, his face flushing red. Beth looks at him and rapidly blinks. Nervously she backs away. Once she steps back into Harry’s arms, she nods. “Un-fucking-believable.” Growling, Vincent turns away, his shoulders and arms tense. His hands curl into fists. If the hounds weren’t in the room, I do not doubt that he would be hitting the wall or me, his favourite punching bag. I can feel his anger, smell his rage.