Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1)

by Amber Naralim

  72

  Chapter

  People ran in all directions. A few stood their ground and even more, lay dead at their feet. Izobel got separated from Deklan. He was right by her side and then just as suddenly he was gone. She didn’t see him anywhere. The chaos erupting only made that harder.

  That certainly wasn’t how she expected tonight to go, but beggars can’t be choosers. She’d asked fate time and again to give her a miracle she wasn’t going to argue the hows of it.

  Izobel jogged to the bars of the cage. A few Folk lay on the ground unconscious on the inside. Zoe opened her eyes slowly. Her hunch relaxed. She had a death grip on the silver necklace. She swore she could smell her flesh burning. But there wasn’t even smoke.

  “Zoe!” Izobel hissed, waving her over.

  Zoe spotted the bent bars and climbed through using the hood of the empty truck to help her along the way. Izobel helped her down and then her hands clamped over Zoe’s shoulders. She dragged her little sister in for a hug.

  “I’m going to get you out of here. We’ll run. Really run now.”

  The burst of inspiration those words had flashing behind her eyes was bright and played on every one of her fears. Freedom shined in the darkness. A safeguard and shield from her terrifying fear of loving someone and all the consequences that come with it. We all have the urge to bolt. Izobel was drowning in hers.

  Zoe pulled to a stop. “What about Johnny! I can’t just leave him.”

  And that right there was why she let herself her be stalked and captured. Izobel recognized the glint and glimmer of true love between them the moment she saw Johnny take her sister’s hand. A connection so strong it calls across time and memory. A thing so rare and so pure it was the cornerstone of creation. Who was she to separate them?

  Izobel turned back to her, face crumbling under that accusation. Izobel had some of those feelings herself and hated it. Abel came out of nowhere with his boyish grin and good ol’ boy charm. He spun her completely and it wasn’t until that moment Izobel could admit that. Zoe was all that was supposed to matter. Izobel sighed.

  “Fine. We’ll find Abel.”

  Zoe nodded. They took off toward the left end of the square, away from the fighting. The dais boiled over with clashing werewolves. Bullets whizzed through the air. Living for weeks with a pack of wolves put death to a lot of her fretful imaginings of such a monster. The aggressors brought every damned one of them back to life with renewed vigor.

  They were Lunatics. Barely controlled by their own side. And what little they pushed for was setting them against the foe. Some of them couldn’t even pull that off. These were tornadoes made of twisted flesh. They killed everything in sight. Slathering jaws, bloodied claws, and singular in their terror, these were creatures of myth that inspired a thousand nightmares. They ripped anything that got too close to gory pieces.

  They dodged and shot across the clearing. They’re only saving grace was these monsters had a plethora of victims to chase. They used what was left of the fleeing crowd to cover them and Izobel fought with her guilt every foot.

  Pain drenched screams whipped her head around. The Metri swiped a burly man with long stringy hair off his feet. The monster buried his face into the guy’s stomach and Izobel’s fingers were moving before she could stop herself.

  She drew prime charge out of the air. It wreathed her moving hands in a purple light that flowed like water. She spread her hands wider as it grew to a blinding radiance. Izobel pitched it like a fastball. The Metri’s body reacted to the force, flying through the air. The victim separated crashing to the ground near a concession stand.

  The Metri rocketed back slamming into one of the trucks at terminal velocity. The tires held on for dear life but her spell won several feet. She lost track of him pretty fast in the chaos. She didn’t even slow down.

  Izobel glanced at Zoe over her shoulder. She didn’t look too good. Sweat glistened on her forehead. Distracted by her inner turmoil. Her eyes were wide and haunted, and it didn’t look like she was paying much attention to the violence around her. Whatever had her attention was more worrisome than she had time for. Those weren’t good signs.

  Zoe tightened her fist around the pendant. The silver wire etched into the skin of her palm. Her knuckles were white with the effort with which she held on. The stones that made the leaves on the silver tree played like piano keys. Zoe swore she heard them like sounds. Each had its own special taste, its own brush.

  Johnny warned her about this too. He told her about the sensations. It was so similar. That’s what blew her mind. She didn’t even realize she heard them until her body was reacting to their presence.

  She’d half expected to see tracing lines or for it all to be in red like in the movies. What could Zoe say? She was a victim of her imagination. But it wasn’t. It was just easier to see the details. And the more she noticed the world looked like a painting. Still, and yet bursting with motion. There was just so much of it. Every shadow was etched with razored lines. Maybe the colors were a little brighter.

  The howling was an angelic choir. Izobel’s amulet buoyed her above the turgid and sucking surface of the Lunatic cry. It was just as deafening, but she could ride it. Zoe swayed back and forth to the song.

  Izobel wrapped her arm around Zoe’s back and guided her along with a slightly quicker step.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Izobel said, but Zoe was sure she wasn’t talking to her.

  So over prepared to act Zoe jumped at every sound. And after each one she landed like her muscles had memories her brain didn’t. Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her. Reigns just out of her grasp, her body listened to a voice veined in deeper than hers.

  It was getting quieter. The fighting was centralized at the square. Some had feathered out into the trees but the battle would be won there. Izobel was trying to avoid it completely. Abel told her to meet him at a place they called Gnosis rock. And three minutes ago she would have told you she knew precisely where that was. Now, with all the trees looking the same and only the caustic moon to light their way she wasn’t so sure.

  The woods thinned out to a maintained and manicured lawn. Rolling hills and landscaped shrubbery seemed a little too heavy to be real. The juxtaposition between one to the other was so fast she wondered if someone was messing with her.

  Gunshots and cries bounced off the coal-black sky either way. It was darker out here. The silvered shadows were a far cry from the incandescent glow of the square. The bulbs of the string were as glaring as circus lights.

  Izobel moved toward the silhouetted building in the distance. Zoe stumbled along behind her. Her shoulders hunched with the weight of the amulet swinging around her neck. She worried it would snap her head off. Those seraphim voices were wavering with a tinny pitch. The glare of her vision had spikes. The amulet was working but by the Gods was it heavy. Zoe wasn’t sure she could hold on.

  The change of scenery brought with it a chance to catch their breath. Boy was Izobel grateful at first. But now, it was dragging into eerie territory. And it was getting worse with every quiet moment that piled up.

  Izobel stopped dead in her tracks and dipped her hand into the pouch of salt in her pocket. Zoe looked up bleary-eyed and unfocused. Izobel poured a few drops of scented oils onto the course sea salt studding her fingers and swiped two of them over Zoe’s dry, cracked lips. The spell left Izobel’s will and wove its way all throughout her sister with colored lines.

  They turned down a narrow path between a row of bushes, paved, it opened up between two outbuildings. From the sounds probably the stables. Zoe was barely hanging on as it was. Izobel could think of a dozen reasons to go around them.

  A stable door shuddered. One of the horses kicked it.

  That was number one on her list. Prey animals did not do well around the Primordial races. Not a single one. Animals, some people could sense them. They know a predator when they see one. This one wasn’t pinned completely on werewolves either. Witches were
just as likely to get a reaction.

  Izobel made a conscious decision to walk between the lines of stables. A horse neighed and threw his massive head back. Each stall was its own gate. A few of them reared high the closer they approached.

  “What was that?” Zoe asked. Her head popped up, gaze pouring over the trees in the distance.

  Izobel didn’t hear anything more than the horses. They were getting restless. She moved slowly down the path. They were close to the house. Big place like that had to have cars. Right now, all she cared about was getting Zoe out of here safe.

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  Chapter

  Abel was sure Nora would go this way. He lost the little sister. One minute she was in the cage, an exchange of bullets later she was gone. Only Isaak would have the balls to attack during the full moon. He never did give a damn about anyone but himself.

  There were far too many bodies littering the ground for Abel’s taste. Tonight he was sure he would face a choice. The only surprise was his answer. He’d driven out here with the intention of grabbing what bits of precious he had left and getting his little brothers the hell away from this place before tradition crumbled the foundations of his house.

  The day wasn’t half as sad as he imagined it would be. The thought of Izobel was a shining bit of hopeful on the horizon. He’d lost too much for it to hurt the way it should.

  The thought of walking away from his home and the world he knew wasn’t a light step. The weight of each loss spilled in from only a few breaks in the seam and it was bittersweet. It left him saturated. Heavy. It sure as hell didn’t leave him much of a ledge to stand on either.

  Out of options, he only had one path. But dead men are dangerous. Isaak had a similar idea and gave him everything he needed to ensure that if he did go, Abel would leave this place better for it.

  The house was empty. He took the stairs two at a time and was out the door with nary a plan for what to do next. This place seemed so large and empty. It tickled his guilt for walking away from the battle. Abel was a soldier. He’d trained his beast for single-minded outcomes. They were walking outside the lines he set long ago.

  It wasn’t just the lunatics who heard the cry on the full moon. Every shifter was deafened by its call tonight. And he was no different. His beast wanted to hunt. To run through the woods free and unbound. Turning tail from a battle just didn’t sit right with his being.

  He took a left heading back to retrace his steps. He hoped he’d find Nora and Worthington along the way. For the first time in four hellish weeks, he wasn’t worried about Zoe. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself. The Sparrow was right. Magic saved their ass. Technically, she passed the Culling.

  If they survived this, that would change everything. However, out of the frying pan, as it were, he doubled back the way he’d originally come. Isaak was mad. What was he thinking unleashing Metri on the full moon? His thoughts kept grabbing onto that question and dropping it like the hot rock it was every time.

  The audacity of it.

  Isaak just picked up the edges of the board and flipped the damned thing. And Abel couldn’t tell if he was pissed at him for doing it or because Abel hadn’t thought of it himself.

  He heard noises. Abel hunkered down and searched the area for breaks in the pattern no matter how small.

  Making the decision with a sigh, Abel abandoned the path he was on and walked toward the sound. His wolf wouldn’t have it any other way.

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  Automatic gunfire erupted down the hall. Nora cowered in the corner, her arm wrapped around her Grandfather’s shoulders. He kept mewling, confused and scared. She never let herself see how badly he’d deteriorated until then. Now it was painfully obvious and could get them both killed.

  The Metri rushed forward relentless and crazed. He was almost out of ammo and had nowhere to run. That’s why he’d chased the girl down here. Jack had half a mind to let it happen. Worthington wasn’t the kind of leader that inspired loyalty. Fear only gets you so far. And tradition only excuses so much.

  He pulled the trigger and the Metri’s body reacted to a three-round burst. They collided with a force that spun them. Teeth ripped into the ball of his shoulder. The Metri got a hold of his arm and wrenched at it trying to tear it from his body, all claws and teeth, and madness. The Metri’s momentum sent them crashing through the window and back out into the chaos happening outside.

  The tinkling explosion of glass was nothing compared to the silence that followed. Nora was just a little antsy. She never did like to have her back to a wall. She spent a second or two kicking herself for not carrying a gun like Abel told her too. Then she got to the business of trying to get the hell out of here.

  They were on the far side of the square no cars allowed. The only thing the twisting paths led to was the Lord’s manor. She had to find Alexander. Abel was wound up in Johnny’s mess. She was on her own with Isaak on her tail.

  The door opened and she helped Grandfather down the hall. Her head swiveled back and forth. Tense, her shoulders hunched, she guided him quickly.

  “Where are my guards!” Worthington demanded. “They should be here.”

  “Don’t worry, Grandfather. I’ll get us out of here. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “A girl Folk,” he scoffed, absolutely disgusted by the idea. “This is how I am to be treated.”

  Nora didn’t have time to be hurt. And his views weren’t exactly hidden. If Isaak found them and he was the one to shed the King’s blood everything was lost.

  Deklan jogged down the hallway and skidded to a halt. Nora’s golden blond curls were a sight for sore eyes. He turned down the left hallway and caught her up.

  “I lost Izzy. Are you all right?” He asked, noting the blood dripping from her forehead.

  Deklan lifted a swath of her curls to check the wounds on her neck. Bumps, bruises and shallow cuts said she’d tangled with a few of the bad guys. She was still standing though. Deklan saw exactly how tough she was. Most people overlooked it. Easy to miss surrounded by powers like magic and shapeshifting.

  He knew a little essence magic, but it was tricky and it came with consequences. Destruction doesn’t just go away. Pain will not be denied. Healing one only transferred the hurt to someone else. Her wounds were minor. He decided to hold off on it for now. Figured he might need it to get out of here.

  “Where do we go?” He asked.

  “We have to get my Grandfather to my brother Alex. It’s the only way,” she answered.

  They pushed through the door at the back of the building and disappeared into the rows of trees beyond.

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  Isaak watched the carnage play out with a frown on his face. It hurt more than he thought it would to rip it apart like this. Just because it was the last thing on his list didn’t make him leave it out, though. He was the rightful ruler of this land and he would take it back even if he had to burn every castle down to do it.

  They would rebuild. He would forge this clan into the strongest on the continent. It had the bones to survive a slash and burn. Sometimes you have to rip it out and plant anew. It was a bloody process but in the end, they would be better for it. Stronger.

  Jerimiah jogged toward him. He’d seen a fight or two. Scrapes and abrasions on his cheek and a healing gut wound wrote the story in his brown skin. His tired brown eyes made excuses.

  “We haven’t found them. Nora must have slipped out before anyone noticed.”

  “She hasn’t hadn’t enough time. She’s still here. We just have to find her,” he commanded. “Keep looking. You two,” he barked at his faceless guards. “With me.”

  Jerimiah licked his full lips and bent over at the waist sucking in breath after breath until he took off on a mission to round up some of theirs.

  Isaak slowed. “I want her alive,” he called.

  Jerimiah sighed. He was with Risguard on this. Isaak’s love of his family was a sticking point among his men. Ever
y one of them had to leave theirs behind. They had to risk them being here tonight. Warnings were a death sentence. If this wasn’t enough they needed plausible deniability. Why is it Isaak’s sister should be looked after and not his. Or Mason’s daughter? She was a potential for crying out loud.

  Loyalty was sacrosanct among the Kin… at least the miming of it was. The glory of their past eroded with every moment of the present that took its place. And it’s a lot harder to follow a leader blindly than it was a thousand years ago.

  Either way, the die had been cast. The next few hours would determine whether Isaak was a genius or a madman. Jerimiah transitioned from a jog to a run. Spotting two beasts tearing at each other near the tree line, he closed with them. The bones in his legs splintered and forged anew into a different shape and he leapt. His skin sloughed off like dry paint catching on the wind. Black fur and sharp claws coalesced into a monster of myth and fairytale.

  The beast that was Jerimiah landed on a boy. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He had a gun. He defended his brother or maybe his father with everything he had. And Jerimiah twisted his jaws snapping his neck like it was made of glass.

  Folk are just so fragile.

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  Izobel could see the end of the tunnel. She was afraid they wouldn’t make it. The hinge popped up just a little higher with every kick the horse leveled at its gate. She laced her fingers between Zoe’s and they took off.

  The horse reared back, its legs flailing. The gate flew to the left with the momentum. Izobel looked over her shoulder. Occupied with the horse at her back she didn’t see the werewolf in front of her. Zoe did.

  Her eyes went wide and she dragged her feet. The monster was everything lame horror movies promised. A wolf with slathering jaws and sharp teeth. His amber eyes glowed in the darkness. It stood bipedal with curved razors for claws. It towered over them head and shoulders. Its grey and black fur matted with blood and leaves. White at its blood-caked muzzle.