A Curse of Blood and Power: A Chronicle of Fanhalen

by Viviene Noel

  What a mess had this day turned into—a thrilling mess.

  Mayfair stopped without turning when they reached the bank. ‘Why did you want to come here?’

  Mahena walked up to him. The wind brushed a strand of hair past her shoulders. She sucked in a breath. ‘Because I need to know whether I can trust you. If I decide that I can, then there are many, many questions that need answering. And I hope you possess some of those answers.’

  Mayfair snorted. ‘Have your little friends not enlightened you sufficiently?’

  ‘I believe they have to the extent they trust me with, same as I do them. And I owe them my life.’

  He turned his head slowly, squinting, that predatory smile stretching his lips. ‘And what makes you think that trusting me with information you refuse to give them is wise?’

  ‘Because you could have had your way with me if you wanted to and you haven’t. Because there are images in my mind that I do not remember, and I want to understand.’ Mahena pivoted to him, stepping closer. She whispered, ‘I want to stand in the exact spot your lover stood, and I want you to show me another memory of her.’

  His nostrils flared. ‘I highly suggest, when you make demands, that you carry yourself with strength and confidence.’

  Alright, she could do that.

  Mahena squared off her shoulders and growled in his face. ‘Show me.’ The heat rose again in her guts.

  Mayfair smiled in answer. ‘That’s better.’ He stepped forward, positioning himself a metre away from the riverbank and the red lily bush. He pointed to another bush of purple flowers. In a swift motion, the wolf unsheathed the small knife at his belt and sliced his palm open.

  Mahena grimaced, glancing at the blood starting to pool on his gilded skin. ‘What are you doing?’

  Mayfair flipped his knife and extended the grip to her. ‘My house, together with the dormant power of the pack, provided a conduit. Hopefully blood will replace it.’

  The young woman swallowed down. The idea of a blood oath, pact, had always appealed to her strongly, whether it be in books or movies. The hygienic side of it, on the other hand... She didn’t allow her face to show the distaste.

  Mahena seized the hilt, noting the delicately ornamented wolf head on the pommel. She looked at her hand, at her white skin void of any scars. She sliced it open, embraced the pain of each thread snapping. When she met Mayfair’s eyes again, she found him grinning.

  She angled her head. ‘Should I be wary of being irrevocably linked to you after this?’

  His gaze lit at the question. ‘Would that be so awful, now?’

  The voice inside her growled at the tone, at the male insinuation lingering below. She parried, ‘And what would she say, looking down at you witnessing your attempts at dishonesty?’

  Before she could realise, Mayfair was growling in her face.

  Fuck. Shit, shit, shit.

  ‘Be careful, little girl, with the tone you employ when you address certain people.’

  Her stomach churned, roiled. Something that didn’t happen before, not really. How powerful was his wolf side without magic?

  But then the thing in her guts just pushed back upwards, squashed it and she squared her shoulders. ‘So you can play, but the receptacle must remain silent?’

  Mayfair only roared as he stepped back and pulled her an inch closer.

  Without notice, he slammed his bloodied palm into hers.

  Mahena screamed—a soundless, broken plea that barrelled through her body, her mind and her soul; the blinding pain clawed her to the ground. She had the familiar feeling of holding onto skin, of holding onto the reason for the overwhelming thoughts and images that invaded her brain. But whether it was a human being, an animal, an object or an illusion, she couldn’t tell.

  She was thrown in and out of sceneries old and young, far and near, stolen seconds in oceans of years. Sometimes there were people and she could understand the language, sometimes it was animals and she still could understand the growling conversations. But as soon as she left the memory, it vanished from the depths of her memory. And it went on and on and on and on.

  With each one, a warmth spread inside of her, a small flower battling the winter cold. And with each one, she gawked and gasped for air.

  When her vision cleared, she was on all fours, vomiting her guts up.

  Then Mayfair crouched. ‘Be quiet.’

  The primal instinct within Mahena made her freeze instantly at the command in his tone.

  Fighting off the remains of the haze, the young woman wiped her mouth and laid flat on her stomach, staying as still as she could, and quietened the sounds of her breathing.

  Rustling of leaves. Rustling of clothes. Steps, so light almost silent. A scent. How did she even smell that?

  And then the thing inside of her peered up. Mahena gaped, as though someone had punched her in the stomach.

  Mayfair looked at her, brewing rage in his eyes. Mahena’s heart tumbled. He said, graver than he had ever been, ‘We are lovers. Will it to your face.’ There was no question, no chance at a word.

  Then he stood up, lazily, gracefully. All hatred, all the pain was gone from his face—only the blush, the lust, the envy of a moment of passion glinted on his features.

  And Mahena understood. Her heart thundered, her breathing caged inside her lugs. She shook her hands to get the trembling out of them.

  Oh, gods.

  Mahena had a minute, not even that, to turn her confused and petrified self into a woman who was yearning to be undressed, to be touched. She forced herself to breathe out. ‘It’s gonna be ok. Man up.’ The thing kept thrashing, kept banging against that invisible cage it seemed to be locked in. She silenced her thoughts, silenced her head, silenced her heart and listened.

  A feminine, gentle, yet cunning voice purred behind her, ‘What do we have here?’

  They had hoped there would be no patrols, no rogue sentinels on the trip.

  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

  The little voice clicked her tongue. Listen, learn.

  Mayfair replied in an arrogant and caressing tone, ‘I don’t think you require details.’

  Another, harsher one snorted, ‘The dog has come out of the shed.’

  Although scared to her stomach, Mahena wanted to turn, to see for her eyes what the fuss about these creatures was. Did they know him?

  The little voice yanked. Her fear vanished.

  Mayfair snarled. ‘You are a long way from your patrol.’

  Shit. Shit. Shit. That tone was not good.

  ‘We are hungry. I believe an occasional snack isn’t against the accord, now, is it?’

  Shit. Shit. Shit. This wasn’t going to end well.

  Then Mahena felt stares lower at her. Shit. She had to wait for a signal, for an order, for something to indicate whether she should remain still, stand up and fight, or run for her life. Amidst her thundering heart, she managed to hear the pause in time. The mere seconds of complete silence between the two Shadows and Mayfair. Mahena slowly, oh so slowly, flipped on her back and pretended to stretch. She was still hidden behind the bushes of purple flowers, but at least now she had a view of their assailants.

  Mahena’s eyes opened wide as she beheld two of the most beautiful women she’d ever come across—brunettes, with light blue eyes and onix skin that almost sparkled underneath the stars. There were thin red lines starting to dance in those eyes. They both were dressed in riding leathers that complimented their athletic figures. There was little she could say to do their faces justice.

  ‘It seems your lady friend has decided to join the party.’ A snake, a predator.

  Mahena paused. The thing inside of her roared. She found herself saying, ‘I was told to taste bitter and sandy.’ Then she moved out of the bushes and joined Mayfair, his eyes wide yet glinting strangely as she added, ‘I wouldn’t
suggest it. Although I am flattered to be considered.’

  She raked her gaze up and down the two women. ‘But I won’t decline another type of party.’

  Then her mind clicked back and she blinked. The words she had spoken with so much arrogance slammed in her head.

  Mayfair kept his head angled, ready to pounce. All signs of potential surprise remained hidden.

  The two women paused, then purred.

  ‘You are a pretty thing.’ The one on the right licked her lip, grazing the tip of her elongated canine. Mahena couldn’t help but smile at the scene. The woman continued, ‘Unfortunately, it is blood I crave.’

  They lunged faster than Mahena could think.

  She didn’t know what really happened, but when she could hear breathing again, there were two lifeless bodies on the floor. There was blood on her hands. And Mayfair was grinning like a wicked beast.

  47

  ‘What happened?’ Mahena looked respectively at the dead bodies, then at Adam, a wicked, delighted snarl stretching his face.

  ‘These pieces of shit got what they spread.’ He turned to her, the haze of battle and awe and something else in his darkened eyes as he purred, ‘You, my dear, were unexpectedly good.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes lowered to her hands—to find them smeared in red.

  ‘Have you never killed before?’

  ‘What?’

  The little voice purred and rumbled and smiled. It also winked, somehow.

  ‘You understood the question.’ Her hands began to shake. Then they stopped—were forced to stop. He pushed off from where he was crouching over the corpses and approached. ‘First time, then. You are at the top of the food chain, it is normal.’

  Mahena didn’t feel in shock, or terrified, or anything that should seize you when you take a life, but...

  ‘I... I didn’t do anything.’ She leaned over the bodies. One of them had been stabbed in the abdomen and her throat slit. The other one seemed to have no visible wound, but her neck looked suspiciously twisted. ‘I guess I am the slit throat, then?’

  ‘I hadn’t seen anyone move that fast in a while. Who taught you?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t remember anything about my past.’ Her eyes lingered longer than they should have on the mangled flesh. Why wasn’t she feeling guilt, shock, outrage, or anything that a normal person would?

  ‘Predators do not feel remorse when they punish those who defy them.’

  Mahena twisted. ‘Is that how you ruled over your pack, why your name raises fear and disgust when whispered?’

  Mayfair pulled her up harshly. He looked her dead in the eyes—the unruly power shot to her. ‘I have done everything I had to so no one ever thought of threatening them.’

  She smiled back. ‘They seemed to know who you are. Have none of them come directly to your town, then?’

  ‘For someone who needs help, you seem to forget I have no obligation to provide it.’ He pricked up his ears. ‘We need to hide the bodies and leave. Did you see enough?’

  She nodded.

  B

  Mahena found the twins in the dining room when they returned. Mayfair had slipped away after indicating where to go. She looked at the bowl of food waiting at the empty seat and didn’t wait. Once she finished it all, she pushed it away and turned to them.

  ‘He’ll help us cross.’

  Emmerentia pursed her lips, holding her gaze as though expecting more.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where the hell did you go and what happened to your clothes and your hands.’

  Mahena looked down at herself, then to her hands. Shit, she thought she had washed them off in the river. She ignored the question and grabbed the mug in front of her. The taste was bittersweet, like blood orange mixed with honey.

  Emmerentia pressed—there was a sort of unease, even worry, there, ‘So?’

  Fàaran, strangely, only stared at her.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t know what to make of it. I need to think it through, and then I will say.’

  Fàaran slammed his hand on the table. ‘This isn’t how it works.’

  Mahena’s nostrils flared, her veins still pulsing with adrenalin. She snarled softly, ‘What the hell was that for?’

  Emmerentia turned to her brother. ‘I’ll handle her. How about you get the horses ready?’

  But Mahena stopped him from leaving. ‘No. I am tired of you talking to me like I am nothing.’ That man got her trips roiling. But she went on, ‘I am serious. Leave me here if you want but I won’t say a damn word until I am ready.’ She pointed a finger into his chest for emphasis. ‘And I won’t take another word spoken in that tone from you.’

  There must have been something in her expression, because Emmerentia leaned across and asked, ‘Has he done something?’

  Mahena made a face. ‘No. Gods, no. Nothing like that.’

  Fàaran snorted, ‘She’d let him anyway.’

  Both women punched him in the shoulder, one from across the table and the other from the side.

  ‘I can’t decide whether I should be offended or relieved that you are capable of sarcasm,’ Mahena smirked.

  ‘Who said that was sarcasm.’

  Then he left.

  Mahena shook her head in disbelief. There was a roiling in her heart now that she stared at Emmerentia, at the hidden confusion and the rising doubt—the inner fight. Weeks ago, she had demanded that she stop playing push and pull, and she had made the effort, was still working on it, even in this instant. They’d had another strange moment before the party, and although tonight had merely been a game to gain insight on all the shit going on around her, it had taken a turn she didn’t understand, didn't know what to do with. But she would not push her away.

  Mahena stood up and came to sit down next to the twin, the woman only staring her down—the walls going back up. ‘The episode of his life he showed me included a woman he called his mate. In some of my dreams, a woman visits me. It seems crazy but I wanted to verify whether she was the same.’

  ‘Is she?’

  A strange silence pushed down Mahena’s body as the sensation, the images rushed back before her eyes. She had been facing the woman—Briar—that last time, forced herself to look her over and commit to memory every detail. It would be a lie to deny the resemblance.

  ‘Yes, she is. And I look strangely like her.’

  Emmerentia angled her head, but she wasn’t ready to unveil more than that. Mahena wiped her face with her hands, forgetting they were still caked in blood. ‘It did not go according to plan. We made it but were interrupted by...you know.’

  And then what Mahena truly didn’t expect happened. Emmerentia’s face completely decomposed. Wide-eyed, she went from her hands to her face to her clothes. She averted her eyes to the side, then brought them back up.

  Mahena continued, ‘I killed someone today.’

  Emmerentia’s hand shot to hers. She lowered her gaze to it, and somehow realised she didn’t need comfort. Not for the action. She added, ‘And I don’t care.’

  The twin’s answering stare was even more loaded with confusion. But she only hummed, ‘Interesting.’

  Mahena shifted the chair so she didn’t have to turn her head. She bit down on her lower lip. ‘I don’t remember it. They provoked us. Then they attacked, then they were dead. Mayfair claims one of the kills is mine, but I don’t recall any of it. We buried the bodies and swept the surrounding area in case, but we should hurry to leave.’

  ‘Not too long ago you admitted being afraid of your darkness.’ And maybe Mahena imagined it, but she swore she saw a gleam of spark in Emmerentia’s eyes at the revelation.

  Mahena shook her head left to right. ‘I don’t remember doing it, so it doesn’t feel like
I have done anything. Perhaps he only said I did to spur me into trusting myself and my instincts. But it was precise work, you’d be proud.’

  Emmerentia burst out laughing—from deep within her, so pure Mahena saw the tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She tipped her chair back and howled. After a minute and an almost fall, she wiped at her face. ‘And I thought my days of surprises and adventures were over.’

  Then the doors flew open, and Mayfair approached their table. A nod of his head had the two women jumping up.

  ‘It’s time to go, isn’t it?’ The familiarity in her voice surprised her.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ His face was stern as he pointed to Mahena’s guts. ‘Trust it. In whatever situation, trust it. You might not be able to shift, but the beast always has a way of clawing its way back to your human soul. It will save your life in many dire situations, when emotions cloud your judgement. Embrace it, it is an ally, not a foe.’ Then his face softened just slightly. ‘Whether you want to accept my words or not rests upon you.’

  That inner flame, which wasn’t the little voice, kicked in, a strong and old feeling of strength and belonging coursing through, suppressing her fears. That other side she couldn’t explain made her take a step towards the towering alpha. ‘In the depths of the forest, in the folds of time, one we were and one we shall die.’

  Those words, she’d heard them before. In another life, in another time. A sentence accompanied by a gentle voice and a sweet smile.

  Mayfair blinked. The next second, he was cupping her face—she held out a hand for Emmerentia to freeze. His large, calloused hands sent warning, delight and a calling through her body, to her blood and her veins and her soul. Mahena shoved her fears deep down, burying them under ladders and ladders of insecurities until her head was clear and she could focus. She tiptoed and leaned into his ear. ‘She loves you too, even after all these years, even in death.’

  Adam Mayfair, the alpha male of the most feared pack in Fanhalen, stumbled a step, but only nodded. Then he turned to Emmerentia, who had all but wary anger on her face. ‘You may fear my reputation, however the sole fact that you still draw breath should be sufficient evidence to trust I speak the truth.’