by TJ Nichols
Aubrey nodded. “Why should I trust you?”
Lyle pressed a ring into Aubrey’s hand. “Because I know where the bodies are buried.”
Aubrey studied the ring. There was no crest or obvious marking. It was just a fancy ring that a man might wear if he wanted to display his wealth. “This could’ve come from anywhere.” And he could be sitting next to a killer.
“But it didn’t. Wolves found the body of the last…one,” Lyle said carefully. “That was his.”
“And the others?”
“Also found by wolves.”
Aubrey didn’t believe that, but he had no proof. He had no other informants either. And he did want to speak to the forest folk soon. Especially if they’d found the bodies. “You say that so casually. Wolves…” Aubrey shook his head.
“You met one last night, and he stole from you, but you still don’t believe.”
Aubrey frowned. “How do you know that?”
Lyle wasn’t the man who had been in his room, but he’d pulled out the wolf fur bracelet. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said as he handed it over.
Aubrey’s frown deepened but he closed his fingers around the bracelet. Lyle knew the wolf.
The mayor and his friend started moving away.
“I need to go.” Aubrey stood, keeping a causal eye on the mayor and his well-dressed friend.
Lyle glanced at the men. “He won’t help you.”
“Who?”
“The mayor, in green.”
The mayor would if he knew who Aubrey was. Aubrey was the king’s agent, and all help was to be offered. Had the other hoods not received assistance? “I need to know why the hoods are going missing. I need to report back. So far I have nothing.”
“You are alive.” Lyle stood. “You shouldn’t underestimate your luck.”
He walked away before Aubrey could challenge the threat beneath those words. He could’ve been killed in bed, but the wolf had let him live.
They were discussing werewolves as though they were common. Until last night, Aubrey hadn’t even believed in them. Now…he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He tied the wolf fur bracelet on and moved through the market to get closer to the mayor and his friend. He drifted nearer until he could catch the edges of their conversation.
“I’m beginning to think trusting you was a mistake.”
“There have been problems,” the mayor admitted.
“Problems? My cousin is dead, but wolves still roam wild.”
“Your cousin rushed. I told him to wait, Morris.” The mayor glanced at Aubrey who had moved closer while looking at the leather pouches on display. The mayor edged his guest away. “Why don’t we go for a hunt? Your cousin liked hunting…we could go into the forest and you can search for the wolves yourself.”
Morris glared at the mayor. “I want a wolf pelt before I leave.”
“We can hunt wolves,” the mayor agreed before leaving the market and heading toward home with Morris.
Aubrey couldn’t follow without it being obvious.
He still didn’t know who the first hood was, or which noble family Morris was from—his clothes had born no crest that he could see. And while he knew all the noble families, he didn’t know every branch of what could be a rather messy tree.
He did know he needed to be invited on the hunt.
Aubrey changed into clothing of a better quality, but he didn’t put his hood on. He didn’t want it known all around town what he was, yet. The town’s folk weren’t friendly as it was. With his hood on, they wouldn’t even serve him ale.
He shoved the hood into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, then made his way to the mayor’s house. He rapped on the door and waited. Had they left already?
It wasn’t noon yet, and the best time for wolf hunting was at dusk.
But it wasn’t wolves they would be hunting, it was werewolves, men like the one who’d attacked him. Aubrey wanted to speak to him again, to look at him in daylight. Perhaps the sharp teeth and bright eyes were nothing more than midnight fear.
He’d thought the tales of werewolves were just that before coming to Nightlark. That the hoods’ origins had been woven into the tale and were exaggerated, and that the wolves they’d hunted was an elaboration of the criminals they now hunted. But werewolves were real, and that meant the hoods had been the people who’d hunted them to the brink of extinction. He couldn’t imagine hunting people because they had the ability to turn into wolves, yet that was exactly what Morris and the mayor were planning.
Since being there he hadn’t heard a whisper about the highwaymen—which made him wonder why the first hood had been sent. The highwaymen were not terrorizing travelers and the town the way he’d been led to believe. While hoods were never popular, most people wouldn’t kill them.
The door opened. A young woman stared up at him. “How can I assist you?”
“I’m here to see the mayor.”
“He’s busy. You can make an appointment.”
“I don’t need an appointment.” Aubrey pulled a corner of his hood out of his bag.
The woman glanced at it. “Anyone could have a scrap of red cloth.”
“A hood would be a fool to wear his cloak when three have been killed. I need to see the mayor.”
She hesitated before stepping aside. “You may wait in the parlor.”
Aubrey followed her through to the small sitting room to wait. There were two sofas and a table. No other decoration. This was not a room used by the mayor or his family. Was the young woman his daughter, wife, or a secretary?
He pulled his hood out of the bag and put it on. The crimson cloth draped easily over his shoulders and hung to his knees. He’d never wanted to wear one, but he’d still felt a measure of pride when he’d passed the rigorous training and had been give his first hood. That one had been damaged beyond repair. This was his third. The weight of the responsibility the hood carried fell heavily around him. He had to uphold the law. He’d seen too many misuse that power to uphold the law only when they felt obliged or when they saw a way to enrich themselves.
The mayor entered, hands on his hips, face ruddy, as though Aubrey’s presence was a sudden inconvenience. “I didn’t know there was a hood in town. I would have invited you to stay. My home is yours.” The words were spoken formally and without true intent.
“I am happy staying where I am. Given the recent murders, I thought it best not to be open about what I am. Do you not agree?”
The mayor’s mouth opened, then shut. He nodded. “Yes, the recent murders. Very tragic.”
“Very unusual. There dead hoods. One could assume that your town is a hotbed of thieves and killers.”
“It’s those damn forest folk. Always trouble-making and hiding those bandits.”
“The highwaymen?”
“Yes. They’ve been robbing everyone.”
“I’m here about the murders.” That the wolves had found the bodies implied that they had been dumped in the forest. If the forest folk hadn’t killed the other hoods, that meant someone in town had. The highwaymen were the least worrying thing happening in Nightlark.
“Of course.”
Aubrey waited calmly while the mayor stood there like he was hoping Aubrey would leave. His gaze danced around the room, and he shifted his weight as though he wanted to run. Sure signs of a man who was hiding something. Aubrey knew how to wait out this kind of man.
The mayor licked his lip and glared sullenly. “How can I assist?”
“First you can tell no one that I am a hood. Second, I’d like to talk to your guest. He is cousin to the first dead hood, and he might be able to help me unravel what happened. Then you can tell me everything you know about the other two hoods. They did stay in your house?”
“Um…yes, all three did.”
Which would usually put the mayor as the first suspect, and he was hiding something. But this man didn’t have the cold will needed to kill another. Aubrey had killed. It wasn’t something he co
uld forget, nor was it something he ever wanted to do again, though he knew the longer he remained a hood, the more likely it was that he would have to draw his blade and warm the metal with blood.
“Then sit and tell me.” Aubrey gestured to the uncomfortable-looking sofas.
The mayor fidgeted.
“I know one dispensed justice while he was here. Tell me about the crimes he uncovered.” Aubrey sat as though he had all the time in the world. The sofa was hard, as though it wanted to buck him off.
“The folk in town are law-abiding for the most part. It’s those forest folk that need to be cleaned out.”
“I’ll get to the forest folk and the highwaymen when I know why the hoods were murdered. What happened in town?”
“The hoods were probably murdered by the highwaymen.”
“Maybe…” He doubted it. The highwaymen had killed no one else, and if the highwaymen were the forest folk, werewolves, they had found the bodies, not created them. “What happened in town?”
“He was trying to find out who killed the first hood, and no one was telling him who the highwaymen were—he thought they’d done it. So he uncovered the secrets men keep quiet about and took two of their fingers.”
Aubrey drew in a breath, curling his fingers against his side. That would’ve been Etienne. Aubrey shouldn’t have been surprised at Etienne’s methods. He preferred fear and pain over dialogue. That he’d used an old punishment for something that most people overlooked, or at worst gossiped about, was no surprise either. He’d done it before to a courtier who had been lured in by one of Etienne’s cruel games. The king hadn’t gotten rid of the crime or penalty because it could be useful. That Etienne’s body had been dumped in the forest without proper rites was perhaps on older form of justice that Aubrey had no desire to correct. “And then what happened?”
“He was told something and left. I thought he’d returned to the city to bring men to turn over all leaves.”
“Instead, a new hood arrived with tales of murder.”
“Exactly.”
“And what did he do?”
The mayor’s eyes widened for a moment, and he swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”
“What did the hood before me do while he was here?”
“I don’t know. Questioned people? He left.”
“And again, you assumed he returned to the city to bring back an army, and now you have me.”
The mayor nodded. “You will report to the king that the forest folk around here are out of control?”
“I will definitely report to the king. What was the first hood here for?”
“The first hood?”
“Yes, the one who got killed and started this whole mess? Morris’s cousin?”
“He was here for the highwaymen, of course.”
The highwaymen, who’d caused no trouble while Aubrey was here and that he hadn’t heard a bad word about. “And who did he speak with?”
“I don’t know. I don’t follow hoods around,” he snapped, then smiled. “I am simply here to assist any way I can by offering my humble house as yours while you are here.”
“Did he stay here?”
“Of course he did.”
“And what was he like?”
The mayor stared at Aubrey for several seconds. “Why don’t you talk to his cousin. We’re going hunting later today.”
Aubrey remained seated and pretended to weigh up the invitation. “You go into the forest regularly?”
“Yes. We’re hunting wolves today. Their pelts make excellent winter wear.”
“Is that how you made your fortune?”
“My grandfather and father…I merely continued the tradition and built up their trading business.” The mayor smoothed his coat, preening.
“And the mayor as well.”
“The people like the way I run things. We are a peaceful town.”
“Except for the highwaymen.”
“They are forest folk, an unlawful tribe of people who refuse to leave the king’s land.”
The king saw fit to leave them to their traditions, as long as the forest was maintained.
“And are the trails well-kept?”
“Judge for yourself this afternoon, Hood.”
Chapter 5
Aubrey opted not to wear his hood for the hunt—he didn’t want to become the hunted. The woods were filled with golden light, and the horses were eager to be out, and as they followed the trails deeper in, Aubrey was more than happy to be there, though he didn’t plan on hunting and killing anything.
Birds flitted above; the dogs sniffed and ran ahead.
He urged his horse forward to fall into step with Morris’s.
Morris had been pleasant enough, though not very forthcoming, and he hadn’t mentioned his dead cousin either. The mayor hadn’t introduced Aubrey as a hood, but as a trader. It was clear that Morris and the mayor were, if not friendly, then well-acquainted.
“So what business brings you here, Morris?”
“Family business.”
The metal work on his saddle was embellished with the crest of Harrow. They were a noble family of high esteem and few funds. Their sons were often in debt for gambling they couldn’t afford, their daughters married off to the most affluent groom. There were many well-off merchants who had bought their way into nobility because of the Harrows and other families like them.
“A well-respected family to be sure.” Aubrey inclined his head, though his family was held in higher regard by the king, especially since his father had placed him in service.
Morris nodded. “And you?”
“Looking for opportunities, that is all.”
“Do you trade in furs?”
“Not presently, though this is a good source, I’m told.”
“It is… The forest is practically overrun with them. Vermin.”
Aubrey was reasonably sure Morris wasn’t talking about regular wolves. “The folk I’ve talked to here are quite superstitious, old tales of werewolves. You put no weight in the stories?”
“Afraid of a story, are you?” Morris smiled, all teeth.
“I’ve seen things in my travels that many men wouldn’t believe. It’s not the story, it’s the truth that scares the wise.” His grandmother would be pleased he’d remembered that. The truth was always more terrifying than any tale. So, what was truth behind the werewolves?
The dogs barked and started running. Up ahead, the mayor kicked his horse on. Morris and Aubrey gave chase. They plunged deeper into the forest, led by the dogs. How they’d find their way out, Aubrey wasn’t sure, but he’d worry about that later. They were still on the trails, the forest folk keeping access open for all as they were charged to do. A few large rocks poked out of the ground, but they followed the dogs on.
A howl trembled through the forest. Wolves calling out.
Was it a warning or a cry for help? What kind of wolf was making that noise?
The mayor came to an abrupt stop. Cowering at the base of a large tree was a wolf. Three dogs had it pinned. It wasn’t the silver wolf from the other night, and Aubrey gave a sigh of relief.
Maybe it was an ordinary wolf and nothing more.
Morris drew his bow and notched an arrow. He aimed at the wolf, then turned and shot the mayor. “You are worse than useless.”
Aubrey’s sword was in his hand before the mayor toppled off his horse. “Put down you bow.”
“Or what?” Morris’s horse danced as it turned. “This land should be ours, not the wolves.”
“The forest belongs to the king.” Aubrey kept a close watch on Morris.
The mayor was groaning on the ground, alive but wounded. The dogs still had the wolf pinned.
“Kill your wolf and be done.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Hood. You’ll die like the others.” He drew an arrow from his quiver. “Our friend told me everything. Pity he won’t make it back to town to tell anyone else.”
“You killed the other hoods.”
>
“No, the filthy wolves did. I’m going to run the town now, and I’m going to clean up the wolf problem and take back what was mine.”
“And what is that?”
“The treasure the wolves hid before the fall of their kingdom.” He loosed the arrow.
Aubrey was already sliding to the side, but Morris had aimed for his leg, and it struck true. He hissed and charged, not wanting to give the noble brat a chance to get another shot.
He swung, and his blade connected with Morris’s, the bow forgotten. The dogs barked, the wolf howled, and the darkening forest was filled with the ring of metal on metal.
Blood streamed down Aubrey’s leg. He needed to snap the arrow shaft. He was weakening fast, and he’d make an easy target in the woods at night. The dogs were restless, and the mayor was still on the ground, his horse gone.
Morris was strong and filled with righteous anger. He’d also revealed enough that he wouldn’t want Aubrey to survive. This was a fight to the death, and Aubrey wasn’t on a horse that had been trained for battle, Morris was. Aubrey’s horse shied away, not wanting to be part of the fight. It was all Aubrey could do not to end up on the ground.
“That would be the wife’s horse, good for nothing but walking.” Morris sneered and slashed his sword at the horse’s reins, making it rear.
Aubrey managed to hold on, but only just, and Morris’s blade cut his arm. He wasn’t going to be able to win this fight like this. And he wasn’t going to die in the woods and let Morris get away with murder.
Aubrey slid off the horse. Using its body as a shield, he moved closer to the mayor. He was gravely wounded, blood staining his fine clothes. “Get control off your dogs.”
The mayor groaned and clutched at the wound as though to pull the arrow out. “Help me.”
The horse reared as Morris closed in. Aubrey could barely hold on with his weakened arm. Hobbling and hiding behind the horse, he turned until he could see the dogs. They were still harrying the wolf, oblivious to the fight. He whistled sharply, and the dogs stopped.
“Call for help. Help with the fight. Do something.” His gaze locked with the wolf’s. There was no human intelligence there. It was just a wolf. The one time he needed a werewolf…
