Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1)

by Amber Naralim

  “I’ll walk you through everything. But for now, I need to know how to get out of here.”

  Johnny shook his head again. He could just not get used to this. “How did you get in?”

  “I parked along highway twenty-six and stumbled through the woods for nearly two days before I found the barrier.”

  Izobel swiped her fingers through the ashes of the silver bullet and rubbed her hands together. Six werewolves, she would definitely need the boost. Johnny jerked his thumb over his shoulder and she fell into step with him down the hall. This was a little better. Both of them going in the same direction was easier to navigate. Johnny opened a door and flipped on the light.

  Mirrors shimmered with the animation of their reflections.

  “Two days you said?”

  “Yeah. It would have been worse if I wasn’t working the location charm on Zoe. The magic that surrounds this place is strong.”

  “Tell me about it.” Johnny’s tone had her laughing at him. He pointed at an oval-shaped mirror with beveled edges and crackling here and there in the background. “This one will lead you to your car.”

  “Just touch it?”

  Johnny nodded. Izobel raised her hand and Johnny grabbed her wrist.

  “Thank you for doing this. I have no way to repay you.”

  Izobel pressed her lips together in flat lines. “Protect my sister the way I’m about to protect your brothers.”

  “I’d give my life for her,” Johnny said.

  Izobel smiled. “I believe you.”

  He let her wrist go and Izobel touched the mirror. Her hand went through like it was made of water. She stumbled out onto the asphalt with a stomach tumbling sensation that fell away just as quickly. Izobel turned her head left and smirked. Deklan’s Jeep was right where she left it about two hundred feet to her left. She jogged toward it.

  Two tickets were jammed in under the windshield wiper. Izobel crumpled and tossed them to the ground and started the ignition. She hit the gas hard. Abel had over an hour head start.

  28

  Chapter

  Conner didn’t like this much. Abel’s body language said he agreed. There wasn’t much to describe about the meeting spot. Flat. That was it. A field of spiky grass. A hundred entrances, a hundred exits, no cover to speak of. If this went bad, it was going to be bloody. Abel parked sideways. It was the best they were going to get.

  Conner nervously checked the safeties on his guns wishing he brought a few more. It was weeks before the full moon. Kin could change whenever. But their power was severely dampened by the distance of the moon, hence the weaponry.

  Abel paced.

  The sun burned high in the cloudless sky. Sweat beaded up and rolled down his back. Ten minutes so far. Abel’s nerves wound a little tighter with each passing second. All he could do was hope Johnny was wrong. Problem was the kid had a sixth sense for things like this. Ignoring his council could prove dangerous. Wanting him to be wrong wasn’t enough.

  Conner batted his arm. Clouds of dust rose into the air from six different directions. Cars and trucks moved toward them. Headlights fenced a circle around their location blocking any escape. Abel kicked himself for accepting this job. He cursed himself for bringing Conner as backup.

  A chorus of car doors opened. Abel had to fight his every instinct that screamed go for your gun. The leader was a big guy, tall and lanky, he looked to be in his early fifties. Salt and pepper five o’clock shadow and Stetson hat were about the most memorable thing about him. His second was a beacon of color and lines. Tattoos decorated his skin all the way to the edge of his jaw. They climbed his arms, covered only by a faded black t-shirt and loose pair of jeans. Short brown hair and beady eyes weren’t enough to draw attention away from his eagerness and want.

  Conner’s hands itched. The woman who got out of the car at their six had a hard Latina countenance. Her black hair was pulled back in tight cornrows. Her wife-beater and bare shoulder holster told him all he needed to know. The others stayed in their cars. This was about to go all kinds of wrong.

  The leader plastered on an oily smile that was supposed to be charming. It missed the mark by a mile. He moved closer and Abel stiffened. He kept his eyes on the second. Something about him demanded attention.

  “Well, let’s see the merchandise.”

  Abel nodded. He never once took his eyes off the leader or his second. He spent the spiraling seconds running combat simulations in his head. His instincts told him to go for the second. The leader didn’t have much more than presence. Conner opened the passenger door. He pulled one AK from the duffel bag and brought it around. He handed it to the leader and was quick to take up his position at Abel’s back. The leader took his time looking it over. He lifted it to his shoulder pointing the barrel at Abel’s head.

  “Bang,” he said with that greasy grin. His mouth opened to accommodate the second half of the sound and Abel swore it took an eternity.

  The leader took in a slow, deep breath. He produced about ten bullets from his pocket and Conner tensed. Able got ready to dodge, his fingertips flexing from the need to have a gun in them. If anything the leader got more relaxed. He lost a little shimmer off that easy swagger but not much.

  “So two-hundred and fifty?”

  Conner cocked his brow and then his chin in question. The order was for fifty-six. That was the best they could do with their current ruin. Oh yeah, the clan was skint broke and the only ones who knew were Nora and him, and that was only because he caught her drunk and crying one night. The Worthington clan was once the most prosperous in half the world. Stephan Worthington was a shrewd businessman in his day. He was also the most spiteful prick Conner had ever met.

  Nora kept his secrets, delivered his bloodiest orders. It was the only reason he and Able were still alive. They owed everything they still had to Nora. And Conner did not like to be in debt to anyone.

  Yes, Nora kept his secrets for years. Now she ran his fiefdom. Worthington should have been forced off the throne years ago for his infirmity. The Kin are warriors first. Even farther back for his involvement in the Viper’s war. Conner even spit. It was a kneejerk disgust he didn’t have the control to hold back on.

  Using Worthington as her puppet was a dangerous game. Nora was aware and she did it anyway. Everybody has a flaw. Nora’s was pride. Conner didn’t hold it against her. It was practically bred into the Worthingtons.

  She knew exactly when to let go. And it pissed Conner off more than he liked to admit.

  She had to fix it. That was her excuse for every awful thing she’d done to keep this afloat so far. But it was stretching thin and she could see it.

  Conner chastised himself. That wasn’t all fair. Nora did some good with this little deception she nurtured. And not just for the Merrick boys. He reminded himself of the fact every time she put them in a situation like this.

  They were her heavy hitters. They knew just enough about her plan to play her hands. Nora was Folk. There wasn’t a single Kin who would listen to a thing she said without Worthington as her beard. Not that his family could throw stones. Johnny was proof of that. And so their symbiotic relationship began.

  Oh well, it kept Risguard off the fucking throne.

  Conner casually moved backward a few inches. He wanted to be able to drop down and use the door as a shield. That way Abel could take three in the front and he could watch his back for the four in the back. Suddenly he was glad they weren’t near the full moon. The aggressors would be just as kneecapped.

  But guns and silver were the great equalizers.

  That’s why most of the Kin nowadays only used claws and teeth as a final resort.

  “Nah, silly, that’s what they’re paying us to get rid of the great Abel Merrick.”

  The leader’s face went from borderline high and euphoric to hard. He raised the gun and cocked it in a matter of seconds. Abel dove to the right. Conner dropped down pulling the berretta. He hit the safety as he drew. If he had to choose between offense
and defense, he wanted the gun.

  The explosion of the rifle went off. Time carved itself in crystal. Even the song in Abel’s head slowed down from the high beat, thudding base to Easy on a Sunday Morning for some reason. Well, it was the Faith no More version so that was something.

  The bullets ricocheted against a swirling blue force-field that had been invisible to everyone until that moment.

  Abel’s eyes went wide. The Dessert Eagle appeared in his hand and a bullet slammed into the leader’s head. He spun a quarter turn but his feet stayed planted before he collapsed to the dusty ground. An arc of lightning used the shield for fuel. It’s blinking finger caressed the Latina women who shuddered with the out of control ampage.

  Izobel appeared behind the El Camino with two men trying to get out. She lifted her upturned forearms and both doors slammed shut so hard all the windows shattered at once. The men started screaming and Conner caught the lick of flame before he double-tapped the Latina. Abel was right. He needed to work on his aim. Blood soaked into her wife-beater a few inches below her heart.

  The smell of burning hair and smoke tickled Abel’s nose. He took cover behind the door grabbing the latch and spinning to drop down. It opened wide. He didn’t know how long the shield would last. He figured he’d use it to get set up.

  The Second did something similar. He crab-walked toward the back of the Honda he drove up in. Conner yanked the duffel bag of guns toward him. Three fell out onto the ground in front of him. He dropped the Beretta down into the bag of rifles and grabbed one of the special clips from beneath the front seat. He loaded it into the bottom of the AK-47 with a hard slap. He had it swung around and almost pointed by the time the Latina regrouped.

  The force-field only covered them from the front. Several bullets detonated around Conner. Two of them slammed into the beat-up pickup truck. The Latina was fast, Conner gave her that. Abel returned fire, but even with the shield, he was flanked. The Latina took another bullet in the leg. It bought Conner the few seconds he needed.

  A spray of silver let Abel concentrate on the front half of their aggressors just in time for the second to pop up to his left just beyond the shield. The driver’s side of their pickup fell to pieces raining nuggets of glass down on Abel.

  A dance of fingers shrouded Izobel in a protective aura, not unlike the shield she’d conjured to protect the Merricks. She didn’t want to siphon all the power from the protections. So she set this charm to protect against silver alone thankful to Johnny for the tip.

  He rattled around in the back of her head, yet another distraction. Her concentration was cracking already. That wasn’t a good sign.

  The windshield of the car to the right opened holes and the driver shook violently from one side to the other. He was dead by the third bullet. Folk were just humans and fragile as they come. The passenger took just as many bullets, but even silver couldn’t take a Kin down easily. You had to perforate most of the vital organs before they managed to heal. The timing could get tricky, to say the least.

  Izobel darted across the field dodging the automatic bullets. One pinged off her aura leaving a glowing crack. It sent her heart skipping beats. Izobel had been in two fights since she joined the circle. Witches fought differently than the Kin that was for sure.

  Abel raised the Dessert Eagle in a two-handed grip to steady his aim. He winged the Second before the wily little bastard disappeared behind cover. Silence deafened. Conner was sure taking his time loading another clip. Able spotted someone moving toward him on the other side of the cars. He even aimed the gun that way before he recognized her.

  Abel thought he liked those lace dresses she liked to wear. Leather was definitely better, but even that had ruffles. The collar was long and wide and rippled as she ran. Her luxuriant waves, arcing out behind her, shined in the sunlight. Abel’s senses were stronger in a fight but this was to the point of distracting. He forced himself to turn back to the Second. He wondered what the hell she was doing here. Though he only needed the details, he was pretty sure he knew the why.

  The second full-auto they had went off. They would be pinned down soon. His just in case precautions we’re being put to the test and Abel wished he’d done more. He should have listened to John.

  Izobel swept her arm to the side and a car went flying. It hit with enough force to shake the ground rolling and flipping through the grass. The Second had two different targets to aim at. Merrick was worth two hundred and fifty thousand, but the girl had magic. He took aim.

  Bullets slammed into the pale blue aura each one cracking it a little more. The thing was barely hanging on. It flickered, the glow dying away. Izobel dove left. Abel’s Dessert Eagle hit the ground, his hands twitching. Something black and curved ripped the flesh of his fingertips apart. Abel leapt to his feet and rushed the Second.

  They collided like a meteor and planet earth. Abel ripped and slashed at the Second with claws on both his hands, but nothing else changed. Abel looked for all intents and purposes human. Izobel used the distraction to roll and come up using the opposite side of the same car they fell behind. She sucked in a heaving breath. The protective aura flickered and died away.

  Two men crawled their way out of the upside-down Civic. One of them cradled his right arm. Both were bloody and bruised but neither were hurt bad enough for Izobel’s taste. Someone screamed and Izobel thought it sounded like Abel.

  She ran through the charms she had prepared. Most of them were support, one or two offense but they were too close. She’d hit Abel. Whatever damage she’d do to the other one Abel would suffer just as much.

  He was obnoxious, definite alpha male bullshit. Then again, she liked the way he loved his brothers. Fuck. Izobel pushed against the car and came to her feet. A bullet whizzed by her head honing her focus to a laser point. She decided then that she didn’t like guns much.

  It dawned on her. The bullet! She brought the bullets with her. Izobel dug into her pocket.

  Conner loaded the third and final clip. He’d managed to drop most of the aggressors on his side and keep the last pinned behind cover. That wouldn’t last. If he could kill that one, he’d still have to change position.

  Conner spotted movement. He made a conscious decision to flip the switch from full auto back to three-round burst. He twisted slightly taking aim. Full auto was spray and pray. A burst took more accuracy. He held the gun against his shoulder. Patient. Conner let the opponent make his choices.

  Izobel brought her fists together. The two rushing toward her flew into the air colliding with bone-crunching force. Both of them hit the ground. The one on the left lay there his brains leaking into the dust. She’d cracked his skull open.

  Abel balled both hands into the Second’s shirt and dragged him forward into a vicious head-butt. He recovered fast. Grabbing Abel’s neck the Second shoved his head into the bumper. A hooked, silver blade tore into Abel’s side slicing nearly six inches between two of his ribs. The Second followed it up with two rabbit punches to his kidneys.

  The Second rolled backward coming to his feet as though pulled by strings. He spun the bloody blade in his fingers.

  “Thought you’d put up more of a fight,” he said with a cocky smirk.

  “Oh, I ain’t exactly done yet,” Abel growled, squaring off with him.

  Abel rushed him. Two punches easily blocked by the Second’s forearm, he slashed through the air. Abel leapt back just to close in once it passed. Abel got his forearm or elbow up to counter every thrust and swipe the Second sent his way, even managed a slice of claws here and there. But they were evenly matched. Neither of them gained the upper hand.

  A right cross sent Abel sprawling. He rolled onto his stomach and glanced up to lock eyes with Izobel. Her fingers danced in complicated shapes. Liquid gold spilled into her irises. His face fell. She didn’t realize the Kin was moving up behind her.

  A three-round burst went off. Abel needed to be in four different places at the same time. He had to make a choice.

&nb
sp; Izobel’s chanting rang in her head over the sound of the gunshots. A witch without control is a witch controlled by magic. That was the first lesson Deklan taught her. Magic has a will of its own, especially battle magic. Violence resonates, singing songs long forgotten by humans. The deeper she steeped herself in its melody the closer she courted possession. Keeping concentration was a harder thing with so much going on around her.

  Like a siren, it called her into deeper waters, begged her to use more power. She couldn’t let up, couldn’t back off. Izobel chanted. Her fingers moving in complicated positions. Magic fizzed in her blood exploding like Pop Rocks. She could barely keep her feet. The current was washing her out to sea.

  A spark caught and flames rushed hungrily across the hood of the Civic. Their tips edged blue. The windows of Abel’s truck exploded sending shrapnel flying. A nugget of glass left a scratch across Abel’s face that healed over a moment later.

  Izobel was losing control. She could barely keep the magic away from the Merrick brothers. Black smoke spiraled into the sky. The blue flames devoured the metal of the Civic. He was feet from it and his skin began to blister and peel. The Second leapt back giving Abel the precious seconds he needed.

  “Sparrow!” Abel called.

  All she could hear was the symphony. It thundered in her ears, shook her down to her bones. Her pupils shimmered gold. The flood of molten color obliterated the walls of her iris and swallowed the sclera whole.

  Abel flew across the landscape. Lowering his shoulder he slammed into her and the two of them collided with the ground. Bullets strafed by missing them by millimeters. Izobel’s skull cracked against the dusty plain. It left her dazed as the magic lost its grip and the world surged back in.

  Her vision swam. Blurred lines coalesced into a familiar shape. Abel stared down at her. His mouth dropped open to speak. Something moved behind him. It took her brain a moment to make sense of what she saw. Light caught black claws at their zenith. With the ebbing magic still circling her drains, Izobel lashed out.