“Oh dear heart, he’ll adore it.” She ran a gentle finger over the outside ring of the pin. “How could he not? It’s stunning. And attached to one of the best people I know, so he’d be a fool otherwise.”
Gregory looked down at the mud on his boots, his face cracked open with a smile. “And if this goes well, could we -“
She closed the box lid and waited until he’d tucked his engagement jewelry away before tugging him down the road toward Wilderwood Manor. “Don’t you even dare to ask. You know I would love to have the wedding at the house. We’ll fill the halls with the clans and turn out the gardens. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a proper fete.”
Gregory swooped her up in a hug, squeezing on just the right side of too tight. “You’ve always been too good to me, Tavia.”
Octavia tapped the end of his nose. “Says the werewolf who once saved me from a cave troll.”
“Pish, that was easy.” He chuckled and put her down, let her steer him closer to the manor. “Never forget how quickly that thing ran away from fire. It was one little torch.”
***
Roderick settled on the small bed in his room at the inn and looked around. The tidiness of the room was something to behold, but he doubted the woman running the place brooked much nonsense. She’d taken his money, slapped down a key, and told him in a take-it-or-leave-it voice that dinner was at six and eight and if he missed both, he’d be eating cold meats and cheeses from the cellar.
He’d liked her instantly, and told her as much. Mama Stockton huffed, rolled her eyes, and stomped back to the kitchens, leaving him to grin and snatch up the room key. Wilderwood was an odd little place, but it was much better than camping in the woods. And due to its central location on various ley lines, it was the perfect place to establish a base to return to as he hunted.
As tempting as it was to shuck off his boots and sink into a tub of hot water, he needed to look at the contract again. It was a coping mechanism when chasing something so dangerous; emblazon every little detail about the creature into his mind, so when it came time to dispatch it, he could do so with impunity.
Feral vampires were contracts he hated more than anything else. Devious, dangerous, and highly intelligent, they were counter to their genetic cousins. Those born vampire weren’t without their flaws, but at least they had something resembling a soul. Feral was feral, and this was the nastiest contract he’d ever taken on.
Roderick unfolded the pamphlet and let it fall open, its page already worn from being handled so much. He’d stared at this paper every night for nearly two years, ever since Corbin Luther murdered his partner. It was the one contract he’d never been able to fulfill and it had cost him his dearest friend.
Corbin was wily, charismatic, and prone to fits of murder and violence that were easily trackable. But somewhere along the line, he got wise to how the Roderick and Yasmin were following him and started to hide. As a rule, feral vampires were only able to hold onto something resembling humanity for so long before their lust for blood and destruction became insatiable. Easy to track, hard to kill.
Corbin’s trail went cold overnight, and Roderick and Yasmin chased any hint of him across the continent. They had theories - he bought a fae artifact to help hide him, or contacted the fae and bargained on his own behalf; he found a beacon of power, one of the old stones that lingered in the ancient forests. Or one of a hundred other possibilities. But on the night Yasmin was murdered, Roderick came face to face with Luther hunched over Yasmin’s body, her blood all over his hands and mouth. He should have charged Roderick, beyond rational in the middle of a blood lust. Roderick would have dispatched the monster, mourned Yasmin, and then been able to move on.
***
“He’s not coming back, R. He’s not that stupid.”
“We’ve been wrong before.”
Yasmin sighed. “I know. And I hate it. But this isn’t Huntshead, and we aren’t green. Someone will spot him if he goes out and then we’ll hear about it.”
Roderick sighed. His partner was right, like usual. But the desire to finally catch Corbin Luther was weighing him down, from burning need to avenge the people he’d slaughtered to a bone-deep exhaustion that even the fires of vengeance couldn’t keep warm. Ferals were ruthless killers, intelligent and canny save in the middle of bloodlust. But Luther had shown an aptitude for disguising his sins with house fires, “farming accidents” and more. It was vile and incredibly smart, since finding fang marks on charred flesh or a decapitated corpse was next to impossible.
The Rangers had some magical detection means but nothing could reverse time or reveal truth. So for every body left headless by a combine, for every person who burned to death, they followed up the lead. There were still several corpses back at the Ranger academy with the description, “Cause of death unknown”.
Now they sat on the third floor of a posh hotel in the middle of Portsmouth. Waiting. Portsmouth, a massive city on the west coast, had been besieged by a rash of “inexplicable, gruesome deaths” but one look at the bodies told them Luther had been their executioner. The most recent ones he didn’t even bother to disguise as an accident, but they all held something in common: they were filthy rich. Luther didn’t like hunting in crowds or high society, so unless this was another feral in town, their bet was on him.
He’d changed tactics before, but this was the closest they’d ever come to tracking him. The most recent body had been found inside her room one floor below, missing her head, her jewelry, and the contents of the safe emptied. The ransacked room, the stolen valuables screamed frenzy to them both, but Yasmin was more rational in her approach. Luther returning to the hotel to hunt again was insane.
But tonight was a charity ball and the entire place was full of waiters, valets, and other service staff. Roderick suspected Luther’s taste in high society wasn’t for blue blood, but for their money. Why else steal her ladyship’s valuables when he’d never done anything like that before? His gut screamed they were missing something. But at least his family’s money and influence was good for something, as they’d secured a room with no trouble despite the event of the season happening on the main floor.
Yasmin pulled out her dagger, checked the blade. “We might as well go down. The ball’s just starting up and if he’s hunting in the crowd, we can spot him.”
Roderick nodded. “Still want to split up? I don’t know it’s a great idea -“
Yasmin’s gloved hand smacked him in the middle of the back. “It’s a bloody great idea and you know it. We can cover more ground that way.” Her dark eyes bored into his. Yasmin was his friend, his chosen family. And while she could easily best him in combat, he still worried. Losing her would be like losing a limb, or a purpose. “Do you really going to think he’ll attack us in the middle of a crowd of hundreds?”
Neither of them thought he would, couldn’t see how it would benefit him. But whatever he’d stolen from the woman he’d slaughtered the night prior had let him slip in, set the kitchen on fire, and in a burst of magic that sent Roderick running into the smoke-filled ballroom, had knocked Yasmin to the ground.
She’d never stood a chance. He was draining her when Roderick burst through a wall of flame, eyes stinging, lungs burning. And then the vampire vanished, gone into thin air with another sickening burst of magic.
It took everything he had to gather his partner’s body and get out alive, swearing vengeance the entire time.
***
His lungs sometimes ached in hot weather and he couldn’t properly mourn his best friend. Luther still walked freely. Trailing, tracking, and killing him had been his life’s goal for two years, but it felt like a lifetime. And now, on what little trail he could find, had eventually led him to a quaint village in the middle of nowhere.
A surge of anger hit him, like it so often did when he thought about Yasmin. She’d been a sister to him. Her loss felt insurmountable even on the best days, and he knew putting Corbin down would let her rest. Finally. She dese
rved every bit of justice he could possibly obtain for her. Roderick fought the urge to crumple the paper or toss it into the fireplace to watch it burn. Instead, he folded it up and tucked it away in his jacket.
One day at a time.
He glanced at the other paper on the bed - the calling card from Octavia Wilder, the baroness of this place. It was a kindness he wasn’t often shown, but he’d only just arrived when it had been passed to him. Closing his eyes, he thought back to those in the tavern.
Of course. The woman with the dark braid sitting by that mountain of a man. And talking about....levitating sheep? At first, he hadn’t paid much mind to such a comment, since it sounded like a tall tale. But then he’d remembered how the town sat in the middle of a vortex of ley lines and suddenly a floating sheep didn’t sound so outlandish. If this Octavia Wilder was dealing with the occasional oddity like that, she may have seen or heard something about Luther, even if she didn’t know it.
He would have to be careful. Extracting information from humans was a fine line to walk, and if he showed his hand too early, or she sussed out the truth through cleverness, Luther could run again. That was another reason to call on the baroness tomorrow, to test where her loyalties lay. If she or any of her staff were compelled in some way, or she was one of the reformers who believed even the vilest, most feral of creatures deserved sympathy, he needed to know.
One way or another, he would figure out who this baroness was, and if she would be a help or a hindrance to his hunt.
Roderick took a deep breath and rolled his neck, feeling the stiffness of his long walk bunch his muscles. Time to call for a bath and take a moment to breathe. He needed to be at his best if this hunt was going to be finished.
Three
Octavia fought the urge to bat away Ruby’s hands. The half-fae woman was a saint, dealing with all manner of issues on a day-to-day basis, as she was the head housekeeper. But Octavia was nervous this morning, and it had put her in a foul mood. A mood she didn’t want to take out on Ruby.
“It’s all right, Ruby,” she said, gently lowering the woman’s hands. “No amount of brushing is going to get this jacket any cleaner.”
Ruby bit her lip, frowning. “I wish you’d let me air out that closet. I know you don’t go in there often but it really ought to be done.”
Octavia smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Let me get through this morning and you can do whatever you want to any of the closets here.”
Ruby gave her jacket one more brush then nodded, satisfied. “Breakfast is ready, and we’ll have tea for your guest when he arrives.” She hesitated, then said, “Is he really a Ranger? We haven’t had one of those around since -”
Octavia’s heart clenched. “Please don’t.”
Ruby’s hands flew to her mouth. “Octavia, I’m so sorry.” She reached out to touch Octavia’s shoulder. “That was careless of me.”
Of all the people in and around Wilderwood, only a few knew about Eislen. About Octavia’s broken heart and the walls she built after they left. And how, while mending that shattered heart, Octavia had poured her energy into so many projects that went unnoticed and unappreciated, though Octavia never cared about praise. The needs of Wilderwood’s people were paramount.
The Baroness of Wilderwood never did anything for a thank you or kind nod. She did so because she believed in their cause and fueled it all with her passion. But those months after Eislen left were dark, and something far more grim had pushed her forward. Almost to her breaking point.
Octavia let out a breath she didn’t need nor noticed she was holding. “No, it’s all right. Please don’t apologize. I should be -“ She turned away, feeling shame tighten her throat. “I should have moved on by now.” She took Ruby’s hands in her own and squeezed gently. “I am so sorry, Ruby. There’s no logical reason to not be able to say a name in my presence.”
“Octavia.” Ruby leaned in, breath sweet and warm on Octavia’s face as she kissed the vampire’s forehead. “Don’t you worry a bit. I know what it’s like to nurse a broken heart. Just because a few years have passed doesn’t mean everything goes back to the way it was.”
Ruby was so kind, so generous with her love and her spirit. And every time she was touched by the woman’s gentleness, Octavia felt unworthy. Out of all the people near her, Ruby was the only one to look past her nature and see the person beyond. Even Gregory, gods love him, understood the ferocity that was in their genetics. Werecreatures and vampires were cousins of a strange, tangled sort; but fae, especially those with more than a touch of human, usually saw them as tragicomic figures, meant to be feared, loved, and pitied in equal measure.
Ruby had never seen Octavia that way.
Octavia smiled softly at her before squaring her shoulders and turning to her reflection in the floor-length mirror near the door. “And yet, it must.”
***
Roderick’s polite, firm knock at the door to Wilderwood manor was answered immediately by a man in the traditional butler’s uniform. But unlike most butlers he’d encountered - aged, greying, and usually tall and thin - this man was young, dark-haired, and short but lithe.
He was also stunningly beautiful; his bright green eyes and shock of thick black hair nearly drew attention away from the strong jaw and angular face. This was a man who could stop a tavern’s business just by entering and walk out minutes later with dozens of marriage proposals.
Roderick blinked, then rediscovered his senses and manners. “Good morning, sir. I was given this card by the lady of the house.”
The man arched a brow and looked at, but did not touch, the card in Roderick’s outstretched hand. “Odd. She didn’t say anything about a guest this day.”
Beautiful and owner of a voice like that? Sometimes the world is truly unfair to us average looking mere mortals.
Roderick looked down at the card, confused. “Am I in the right place? This is Wilderwood Manor, correct?”
The butler clasped his hands in front of him and shook his head sadly. “Not again. No, sir, this is the Rothstein Manor. You’ll want Wilderwood, about two miles east of here.” He gave Roderick the once-over. “Let me guess. Hilda, in the town square?”
“I’m sorry?” This was all very confusing, and Roderick was inches from throwing down the card and leaving the town for the woods, where at least things made sense.
The butler now appeared very concerned. “We have a few people about town who think it’s funny to send Lady Wilder’s guests here. For whatever ridiculous reason.”
“Harken?”
A woman’s voice rang out from above and Roderick ducked his head, trying to see who she was. A pair of black riding boots came into view down the stairs, and then the woman from the tavern was standing at the door. The look on her face was almost comical - it flitted so quickly between the hot lash of rage and a frown of remorse that Roderick wondered what in all hells was going on.
The woman put a hand on the butler’s shoulder. “That’ll be all, Harken. Please go help Ruby in the kitchens.”
Harken bowed, grinned impishly at Roderick, and walked down the hall past the stairs, quickly disappearing out of sight.
“I cannot apologize enough for him,” she said by way of greeting. “You are the Ranger?”
“I - yes.” Roderick shook his head, still trying to figure out what just happened.
The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. Roderick noticed she wore gloves and wondered idly if the house was cold. “Harken is the son of a family friend. I gave him a job, knowing he was a bit of a prankster. He’s really a charming young man but he’s still in training.” She shot a glare down the hallway. “And clearly needs more of it.”
“Right, well, no harm, no foul.”
She stifled a laugh behind her gloved hand. “You’re being polite, Ranger. Honestly, I’d be better off making the boy work the stables but I can’t bring myself to do it.” She sighed, the sound wistful. “My apologies, again.”
Roderick went silent as the woman turned back to him. Her gaze was friendly but assessing. He felt rather glad he’d dressed the part of a Ranger, since she was busily cataloging him in such a way. He tucked away the fact that she was attractive, not wanting to be distracted in the moment. But he was good with nobility, especially the more charming or comely ones. “I am Ranger Roderick Arman, my lady.”
She smiled. “A pleasure. And very observant of you. I’m Octavia Wilder and you don’t need to use my title. We’re not a very traditional household at Wilderwood.”
Something about the way the words rolled off her tongue made Roderick feel a faint tinge of praise in his chest. He was used to the wealthy and titled being stuffy at best, horrifically egotistical and power driven at worst. Strange butler aside, Lady Wilder was already far more polite and charming than the usual. Plus, she had made the invite to begin with. He was intrigued by her denouncement of typical propriety and her unusual dress, but he supposed everyone had eccentricities.
Wilderwood Page 2
