by TJ Nichols
Aubrey sighed. “This is where you hid the things you robbed? You and Jardin were the highwaymen I was sent to arrest.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “We gave some coins to the village, what we could without arousing suspicion, but we kept the rest so that one day we could leave.” He opened his eyes to stare up at Aubrey. “Do you know what it’s like to live on scraps and hand-me-downs? To always be seen as less, even in town. I wanted more. Jardin wanted more. We wanted to go to the city and be free.”
Aubrey put a hand on Lyle’s shoulder. “There is no freedom in the city. Men like us live our lives in a lie, hoping not to be betrayed. The king’s rule is stronger there. The more money you have, the more rules you must obey. Favor must be earned through bribes and favors. I hate it.”
“Then there is nowhere to live.”
“We must warn the forest folk that Morris plans to attack. Protect the wolves, and then we can figure out what to do.” He helped Lyle up.
“How are your feet?” Lyle didn’t release his hand.
“Fine. The wounds heal as fast as they are made… I can see better, too. I don’t know that I like what the bracelet is doing.”
“Wolf magic. Only the protectors once wore them. Perhaps the soothsayer was right all along, and you were supposed to have it.”
They started walking again, heading toward the village.
“I don’t plan on keeping it.”
In the forest, wolves howled, but Lyle couldn’t tell if they were regular wolves or werewolves. He couldn’t understand what they were saying. It was a part of Jardin’s life he couldn’t share. It had never bothered him, but he wanted to know what it was like to run through the woods at night on four feet instead of two. To hunt.
He stopped and held Aubrey back when the village materialized out of the trees. Something wasn’t right. “It’s too quiet.”
“It’s the middle of the night. They’ll all be asleep.”
Maybe, but there was a wrongness to the silence that Lyle couldn’t quite place.
They crept toward the house Lyle shared with Jardin. The door hung open, but there was no welcoming fire inside. No anxious lover awaiting his return. Everyone had left. That was why the village felt wrong. The fires were out. There was no smoke and no crackle.
Lyle stepped into the house, expecting to find Jardin’s body or blood or signs of a fight. Some reason for the fire to be out. But the house was empty, which was worse. Jardin had left. “Where is he?”
He turned, but Aubrey wasn’t there. Lyle ran outside to the center of the village where a fire usually burned. The ashes were cold.
Aubrey strode over, grim in the moonlight. “There’s no one here.”
“Why would they leave?”
“Because they already know Morris is on his way and what he will do.”
“Jardin would wait…he wouldn’t leave.” But the cache had been raided. Maybe Jardin had taken everything and used the opportunity to flee, leaving Lyle behind. This village was his home, the only one he’d ever known, and they’d abandoned him. His lover had left him and taken everything. “He wouldn’t.” But his voice was soft, and Lyle barely believed the words as they left his lips.
“How long will the men in tavern sleep for?”
“What?” Who cared about the men in the tavern. He’d been abandoned by those he loved and called family. “Till the fire burns out. It should burn all night. They’ll be worse for wear come dawn.”
“They’ll come here first, then head to the ruins. We need rest so we can fight.”
“We can’t stop them all. And you can still be killed despite the magic.” It was all pointless. “Why should I risk my life to help them when they have all left me?”
Aubrey gripped his shoulders. “Because it’s the right thing to do. We’ll set traps and such around the village. Stop them before they get to the ruins.”
Lyle shook his head. It wasn’t his treasure. He didn’t care about the ruins. “I don’t even know where the ruins are. That was never shared with me because I’m not a wolf.”
He was nothing, not even worthy of waiting for. Not even a note from his lover.
Lyle glanced at Aubrey, a thousand curses on them all.
If he only had tonight, he’d take what he wanted. He leaned in and kissed Aubrey.
Aubrey didn’t push him away. His hands gripped Lyle’s shoulders and drew him closer as the kiss deepened. Then he was cupping Lyle’s jaw, and the kiss became demanding, as though he knew this would all end too soon. “You will regret this in daylight.”
He didn’t want to think about what would happen tomorrow. They might both be dead. “I doubt it.”
They made their way to the empty house that had once been a home, barely stopping to breathe. The door was kicked closed and clothing was shed. Lyle needed to bury the hurt, and bedding the hood was a good way to do that. Aubrey cared…even if he didn’t care about him. He wasn’t the kind of partner who would give nothing and take all. As he dragged Aubrey to the bed, it was enough to have someone hungry for his body and eager to taste and explore.
Aubrey kissed Lyle’s chest, his belly, his shaft, licking the length then taking him in his mouth. Lyle closed his eyes. Aubrey sucked, his tongue slid over him and his fingers work between his legs. He tugged on Aubrey’s hair, drawing him away before he was done, and pushing him onto his back.
He scrabbled around in the dark but found what he was looking for on the small table by the bed. Jardin hadn’t taken everything. Lyle refused to think about that when he had a willing man in his bed to help him forget. He greased his dick while kissing Aubrey. He found Aubrey’s opening with his fingers and pressed in. He could lose himself for one night. Pretend that nothing else existed but the two of them and the bright lust that had sparked between them.
He sank into Aubrey, and Aubrey pulled him close, his desperation a match for Lyle’s. There was no one around to hear their groans and sighs. The sweat on their skin cooled as they lay tangled together, neither wanting to move first. If Aubrey knew that he was a temporary salve, he didn’t seem to care.
Tonight they were safe.
Tomorrow they could make better decisions in daylight.
Jardin paced the ruins, sniffing the air. There were no other wolves around, and the forest was blanketed in dark and quiet.
He’d been cast out of the pack and for no good reason.
They’d have all left the village by now, taking his stolen goods with them. The coins and gems that if he’d brought them to them, they’d have ordered him to somehow return. They wouldn’t have thanked him, that was far sure. Bitterness burned his gut. Everything he worked for, risked his neck for, was gone.
Except the treasure that was here at the ruins. He’d find and take it. Then he’d find Lyle, and they’d leave. The pack had abandoned him and their treasure, so he claimed it. Better for him to find it and use it than for Morris to come and steal it.
He shifted and sniffed around until he found the place where old blood from the first hood to come to Nightlark still lingered. Then he started digging, scratching at the earth, turning over rocks that increased in size the deeper he went. He dragged his bundle of clothes with him, a cord wrapped around his ankle so he didn’t have to keep picking it up. He kept going, not sure where he was digging to, only that he was doing something. And that he was digging at the base of what had once been the main hall of the castle.
His claws scraped rock. The tunnel he’d dug was deep. The moonlight didn’t reach where he was, but he didn’t need it. He had teeth and claws and a nose that was far more sensitive that his human nose. He dug along the edge of the wall, trusting he’d find a door or a window or something. He didn’t know how much time had passed or where he was underground, only that the stone vanished and became something far softer. He tore into the dirt, digging faster, and then tumbled through the darkness.
Disorientated and panicked, Jardin let out a whine, then he hit the floor on his side, losing his breath for
a moment. The soft thump of his clothing followed. When he stood and shook himself, his world was still coal-dark, but the air smelled different. There was still the cloying scent of earth, but something else. Something older. He listened but he was alone in this tomb.
He glanced up, but there was no light to indicate where he’d fallen through.
He would be lost in here forever. Fear wanted to break free. He wanted to howl and call for help, but he didn’t. He had more sense than that.
No one had paced these floors for centuries. He was the first wolf to reclaim the castle. He shifted back to human, keeping his clothing close, then he rummaged through the bundle until he found the flint and tinder.
Carefully, he made a spark and let it take hold. He needed to find more to feed the flames. With his fire casting a small puddle of light, he lifted his gaze from the floor to look around. Fabric hung on the walls. The faded patterns of long-ago tales kept their secrets in their frayed edges. The hole he’d fallen through was a shuttered window, not so high that he couldn’t climb out if he could find his way back. He ran his hand up the wall to the hole, marking the trail so he could find it in the dark by scent if he had to. The floor was thick with dirt and dust, so he drew an arrow pointing to the window. Then he pulled down a tapestry and fed it the fire. Guilt nibbled at his mind, but the cloth was so rotten it almost disintegrated in his hands.
What he needed was a torch, some wood that would burn for longer. He moved a little way up the corridor, making sure not to go so far the fire would be lost to him. Was that sticks on the floor? No, bones. A reminder that people had fought and died here…for what?
He paced back to the fire and fed it another scrap of cloth, then walked in the other direction. More bones and scraps of the past. He picked up a spear; it was made of wood, and for the moment it would do. He lit the end, then took his explorations farther, scuffing more arrows in the dirt, so if he had light he could find his way back. If he was a wolf in the dark, he’d have to follow his scent. But he didn’t want to die down there.
Lyle would eventually return to the village and find it empty. Hopefully he’d have the good sense to stay in town and keep quiet until Morris and his friends had left.
If his lover had already been caught, there was nothing Jardin could do to help him on his own. But he would go to the city and find the hood, take the bracelet from his wrist and tear him apart. Maybe put the bracelet back on him, let him heal, and do it again. The traitorous cur. His lip curled, but the sneer soon faded as he stepped into a large chamber that still smelled of metal and rot.
Bones littered the floor, and the metal glowed dully beneath the layers of dust and rust, the armor and weapons long forgotten. Torches lined the walls. He put a flame to one, not sure if there would be oil left to catch alight. One breath, two, then the flame caught in a rush of blue. It was no oil he was familiar with; the scent was wrong. But he made his way around, lighting every torch he came to. Some sputtered, but most lit.
Satisfied, he turned to scan the room. It was huge, far bigger than anything he’d ever seen, and so high that the roof was lost in darkness. This was the throne room. This was where the wolves had ruled before being betrayed by the humans they had trusted. Some things didn’t change.
Misshapen pillars filled the room, casting shadows like people standing seeking an audience with a king who would never come. The flames gave them movement, and for a moment Jardin felt as though he wasn’t alone in the castle. He stepped closer, but they weren’t pillars at all, only the roots of the trees above as they reached for the earth. He sighed and forced a laugh. The ghosts of the dead had long given up haunting.
The great throne lay on its side, the gold dull beneath its layer of tarnish and dust. If he could take the chair it would be enough gold to buy a grand house. It was treasure that had been left, and it wouldn’t be what Morris was after or what the wolves were protecting.
He picked up a ring that a skeleton no longer needed and slid it onto his finger. Other treasures littered the floor, and Jardin decorated his fingers and wrists. But Morris hadn’t been looking for trinkets. There had to be more there. Something worth protecting for centuries.
The spear was halfway burned—for how long did he search? Where did he search? His fingertips brushed the throne and he lifted his head, sure he’d heard a whisper. But when he listened and looked, there was nothing.
Ghosts…he’d never seen one, and yet…surely there couldn’t be any there? Though there was a weight to the air. The hair on his arms spiked to attention, and something on the wall caught his eye. More bones. He almost turned away, but the bones were on something. Those bones weren’t human. They were wolf.
The flames flickered, and the shadows danced.
He shouldn’t be there disturbing the slumber of the dead and forgotten, but it was too late now. He’d entered the tomb of the last wolf king, disturbed his rest, and now had to finish what he’d started.
“Apologies, sire.” He swept the bones off the chest.
The chest was locked, and the wood still good, as though it had been blessed to never rot. From the jaws of the skull slid a key. Jardin picked it up and tried the lock. It clicked, and the sound echoed through the abandoned corridors. He held his breath, but there was no one here except him and the memories of what had been. Not even the invading trees were old enough to remember the castle and the battle.
He opened the chest, expecting to find more gold, but instead there were leather-bound books. He flicked one open. The pages were full of words he couldn’t read. A language that had been lost. But he’d seen some of the symbols in the soothsayer’s shop.
He opened another book and then another.
This wasn’t gold or treasure.
This was magic.
He closed the books and put them back in the chest then relocked it and sat on it.
This wasn’t treasure he could sell. It was treasure that should stay lost lest it fall into the wrong hands. Hands like Morris’s or like the king’s.
He stared at the throne, the bones and the roots of the trees that had hidden this away for centuries.
Now he’d found it, he didn’t know what to do. Come dawn, Morris would bring his men, and the castle would be wetted with fresh blood.
Chapter 9
There was earth under Jardin’s nails. He’d done what he could to hide the hole after squirming his way out and into the predawn light. He hadn’t bothered to shift to human. He’d left his clothes in the ruins and run for the village.
He needed to find Lyle and share what he’d found so they could figure out what to do with it. He should hand the books to his pack…ex pack. But there was too much bitterness there. They didn’t trust him, and he no longer trusted them. That damn hood had ruined everything. Lied and used the wolves before falling into line with Morris. Jardin circled the village, knowing it should be deserted but hoping it wasn’t. If Lyle wasn’t there, he’d be in town. If he was in town, he’d at least be safe. Lyle wouldn’t know about Jardin’s banishment, or his own. He didn’t want to go to town and run into Morris. There was a reason few wolves went into town, and it wasn’t because they didn’t like people, but because people knew there was something different about them.
At the edge of the village he stopped. There were two heartbeats. Perhaps a few had decided to stay and fight and die. Two against Morris’s militia wouldn’t get far. But the heartbeats were in his house. He crept closer, sniffing until he could be sure.
Jardin was there, but so was Aubrey.
He hesitated, not sure what that could mean.
Aubrey was with Morris, or should be. Or had he found Lyle in town and brought him back to the village? He tried to imagine Aubrey hurting Lyle but failed. He couldn’t imagine Lyle hurting Aubrey either.
He nudged at the door, but it didn’t open. He was going to have to shake off the shift and he didn’t have time to look for someone’s forgotten pants. The sky was now pink.
He shuddered
and stretched and returned to human form and didn’t give himself time to think before he opened the door. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and for the men in the bed to wake.
Aubrey sat up, his hand reaching for a knife. Lyle turned more slowly.
Jardin remained frozen in the doorway.
There was only one bed in the house…but he didn’t believe the lie that tried to form to explain what was before him. He knew what he was seeing. Could smell the lingering scent in the air.
“I thought you’d left,” Lyle said, pulling the sheet around him like it even mattered.
“Left?” His brain glitched on the sight of his partner and the hood in bed, together, where they’d clearly had a fine old time without him.
“With the other wolves,” Aubrey added. He had the good sense to slide out of bed and grab pants, the knife still in his hand.
Jardin was going to kill him. He’d tear his throat out and feast on his flesh. Jardin’s gaze dropped to Aubrey’s wrist where he still wore the fur bracelet. He’d bite his fucking hand off and swallow it and see how well he healed.
“Our cache was empty… You took the things and left? Why are you back?”
Why had he come back?
“You thought I’d left? You’re the one who was in town… What were you doing to find yourself here with him?”
Aubrey kept his gaze on Jardin. “Lyle helped me escape.”
“You don’t get to talk,” Jardin snarled. “You—”
“You left me,” Lyle said.
“I didn’t leave. I was kicked out the pack, you, too, they found the cache. They took it all. I fled to the ruins.” He’d spent the night alone and in the dark while these two had made merry in his bed. He swallowed, not wanting to admit that if Lyle had turned up at the empty village, it would’ve looked exactly as he’d thought. “Why did you go to the cache?”
“Weapons. To stop Morris,” Aubrey said. “But there is no one to defend.”
“How do I know you aren’t working with Morris?”
