He’d soon find out, he thought.
To make his day even better, their horse shied away whenever Byrne approached. The piebald could smell the difference on him after he came back from saving Fin. It had taken Byrne weeks to get the horse to trust him initially, because of his predator scent. The were always smelled like a bear, but after a shift, it was intense. And while he wasn’t really interested in horsemeat, the horse didn’t understand that. He hadn’t shifted in months and typically avoided the horse afterward, figuring it was cruel to frighten the beast for no real reason, but he hadn’t had much choice this time. It was save Fin and scare the horse, or keep the horse happy and abandon his friend. Just another thing to chalk up on the invisible tally board of Fin’s crimes against Byrne.
After an hour-long struggle with the horse, he managed to hitch it to the wagon. The poor beast’s eyes rolled and its flank twitched, but at least it wasn’t bucking anymore. Climbing into the back of the cart, he inspected Fin, who was mumbling incoherently under his breath. Probably speaking in his native language, or one of the hundreds Fin seemed to know. Byrne had never met anyone who could pick up and speak as many dialects as this human. It was one of the idiot’s truly redeeming features. That, and his kindness.
Checking Fin’s temperature by the highly technical method of palm to forehead, Byrne noted he wasn’t any hotter than an hour ago. Hopefully a fever wouldn’t set in. All Byrne had to combat that was some willow bark tea, and he wasn’t sure how effective that would be, despite Fin swearing it was the cure for most ailments.
After checking Fin’s bedding was secure, Byrne jumped from the back of the wagon, secured the back panel, and pulled himself up into the seat. Then, grabbing the reins, he clicked the poor horse into motion.
It was time to get out of the Trsetti’s forest. They had been lucky over the last two days — the village people hadn’t descended on them in vengeful outrage. Byrne figured their fear and bigotry were more powerful deterrents than their ire was an inciter, but he didn’t want to chance it. After all, in his drugged and weakened state, Fin would be unable to fight off an attacker. It would take just one hardheaded villager to get past Byrne, and Fin would be dead.
The almost invisible path was edged either side by towering pines. Byrne kept an eye out for irate bears or wolves: the animal kind, not the were. He hadn’t smelled any predators since entering the forest, but food was scarce during the dawning spring months, and wolves were especially excellent hunters. They would know to keep downwind. Byrne hoped his own scent would keep them at bay. At least down in the valley below, the snows hadn’t covered everything in a thick blanket of white, leaving the prey to settle there. Hopefully the wolves had kept to the valley as a result.
The next town, Brindle, was approximately twenty-five miles away. Normally, the horse and cart would make that journey in a day, but Byrne didn’t want to push the horse, which wasn’t used to carrying the two of them in the wagon. He also didn’t want to risk bumping Fin too much. For really bad breaks, he’d wrap or splint the bone while it healed, but he hadn’t bandaged the human’s ribs, choosing to let them heal naturally. He’d heard a lot of humans arguing about the benefits of this technique, but Byrne figured if his ribs didn’t need it, neither did Fin’s. Admittedly, Byrne’s bones healed in hours, but the process would be the same, so Fin got the same treatment as he’d give himself. The human was too drugged to argue, anyway. Even so, he didn’t want the cart rattling the human’s bones into new and interesting shapes.
Slowly, the horse — Baldy, Fin called it — picked her way along the barely-there trail until they hit a more well-used thoroughfare. Byrne’s awareness doubled, his hearing and sense of smell becoming more acute. Animals were no longer the main concern; now, it was the human menace. There weren’t, or shouldn’t be, any other weres out here. And as for vampires...well, Byrne didn’t think they’d been out this way for decades. Most of that race tended to mass in cities, with the constant food supply they offered.
Baldy’s pace increased on the better trail, and they soon emerged from the forest, where the path forked. One branch headed south-west and into what appeared to be the center of the Trsetti town; the other, which looked distinctly less traveled, would take them north-west and hugged the edge of the Old Mother mountain chain. Byrne could smell the presence of humans in both directions, although the Old Mother’s path was probably more of a hunting trail than a road to anywhere in particular. It would be a slightly longer journey and the road wasn’t as well maintained, but he couldn’t risk going through the town. That would just be asking for Fin’s dead body at his feet.
Looking toward the small houses with their thatched roofs, so very far from the world of weres and vampires, Byrne shook his head. It was no wonder the villagers had become insular. Why Fin had thought that sleeping with one of their people was a good idea, he’d never know. Even under the influence of an aphrodisiac, the human should have known better.
Then again, some of those drugs really messed with your mind.
The smell of woodsmoke drifted through the air, as did the sound of voices muttering and talking. Something was happening in the town, but Byrne didn’t want to wait around to find out what. If the villagers did decide to come after him and Fin, he wanted to be out of that forest and halfway to Brindle by the time they worked out their quarry had gone.
Turning north-west, Byrne headed along the hunting path. If he bumped into any humans, he was sure his yellow eyes would send them scurrying away.
Demons were demons, after all.
Chapter 14
Oberona Mountains
Hannah tugged on the leash she’d attached to Betty, sighing with impatience. The goat stood placidly next to the side of the gravel track, chewing with single-minded determination on some greenery she had managed to snatch up when Hannah had looked down to check on the infant. Hannah had wrapped a cloth around herself in a large sling and tucked the baby inside, figuring her body heat would help keep the little girl warm. She’d also swaddled the tiny bundle of humanity, and had tied what she thought was an excellent diaper around her.
Hands tucked under her chin, feet snuggled up against her stomach between them both, the baby seemed content enough after her morning feed and vomit. Hannah worried she was probably doing something wrong during the feeding. Was it normal for babies to spew up a portion of everything they ate? She couldn’t be certain, though; she only had the blanket’s memories to go on.
“Come on, Betty.” Hannah gave the leash another tug. At this rate, the baby would be ten years old by the time they made it to the next town. And Hannah could hear a cart in the distance; she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of the road, dragging a recalcitrant goat.
She’d chosen this track because it circumvented the Trsetti’s town; hopefully the approaching travelers weren’t from the village. She could see the small roofs in the distance, surrounded by dirt brown fields and a ring of forest. If the driver of the cart saw her with a young baby with Green eyes...
She wouldn’t let them take her back. Not just to be left for dead.
Hannah wondered if she’d even give the baby back if it was Ezra herself, wracked with guilt, coming up the track behind them. But Hannah had sensed the woman’s need for self-preservation and her own comfort beyond any feeling of care she had for her daughter. Unless Ezra’s husband had suddenly demanded the baby be returned, the woman wouldn’t want the infant back.
So no, Hannah wouldn't return the baby, no matter who asked for her.
Tilting her head back, Hannah breathed deeply. That smell on the breeze. Not the horse...was that bear?
Raising an eyebrow, she shook her head. Couldn’t be. There were no bears anywhere near the Old Mother that she’d ever scented or heard. More likely the other travelers had a bearskin rug or something similar in their luggage.
Betty continued chewing and edged closer to scraggly green shrubs that grew along the side of the dirt tr
ack. Hannah gripped the leash. The foliage sprouted on the small embankment that then dropped sharply off the side of the mountain pass. If Betty wasn’t careful, she’d fall.
Narrowing her eyes, Hannah glared at the goat. “If I didn’t need you for your milk, I’d skin you alive, you cannibal.”
Okay, that wasn’t fair. It had been cow leather. But Betty just blinked slowly, her jaw working.
Hissing, Hannah pushed against the goat’s rump, and managed to get the animal skidding along the path, leaving hoof-grooves behind it. Hannah was a lot stronger than Betty, but didn’t want to hurt her.
Dratted animal.
The rumbling of approaching wheels was growing louder. Hannah huffed with impatience. “We don’t want to be caught out here, you stupid goat!” Betty kept chewing on her stolen greenery. “Let’s go!”
One of Betty’s ears pricked up and she started ambling along. Finally. Hannah gritted her teeth and wrapped the leash around her wrist. This was going to be a disaster. If it was Hannah on her own — even just her and the baby — she could have run for miles, making the nearest town well before dusk. But the baby needed the blasted goat’s milk.
The hoof beats and cartwheels increased in volume, while the smell of horse, bear, and pine needles became more intense. Breathing, Hannah frowned. Blood. There was also definitely human blood approaching. Hannah’s mouth watered involuntarily and her fangs began to prod downward. Taking a shallow breath, she thought calming thoughts. She had eaten berries and roots yesterday; she didn’t need to feed on blood for a while yet. Not if she kept up with the human food.
The cart would be in sight any minute.
Without thinking, Hannah clutched the baby tight. The child wailed.
“Ssshh,” Hannah whispered.
The baby screamed louder.
“Come on, little one. Ssshh.” Hannah jiggled the baby in the sling, recalling Zeda doing something similar in the memories. She turned in a slow circle, searching for a place where she could hide. But the track had a cliff on one side, and granitic rock face on the other. There wasn’t a small crevice she could shove the goat or herself into. They were stuck. Something warm and wet soaked through her shirt.
Hannah sniffed.
Urine.
Great.
Sighing, Hannah herded the goat to the side of the track, so the cart wouldn’t barrel them down. The smells of pine, blood, bear and horse were much stronger now, mixed with vodka and the odor of two bodies. She lowered her gaze to the track. If she didn’t make eye contact with the people in the cart, hopefully they would just ignore her, Betty and the child, and keep going.
Stuck on the track and covered in pee, this wasn’t the best start to her journey. Trying to tug Betty closer — who wasn’t moving because she’d found another patch of pathetic grass to nibble — Hannah reached for one of the saddle bags. The baby’s cries were louder now, more indigent.
The cart wheels behind her came to a stop.
“Having a bit of fun there?” asked a voice in heavily accented Varshian.
Varsh was the nearest big city, but Hannah spoke the language badly. She knew just enough to understand the speaker.
Shielding her eyes against the bright blue sky, she looked up at the cart for the first time and her jaw dropped. Even sitting down, the man in the driving seat was huge. She’d hate to see how tall he was standing up.
Now the bear smell made sense.
The driver’s skin was a beautiful jet black. His bright yellow eyes were accentuated by long, dark lashes that should have belonged to a woman, and they watched her with something like amusement glinting within their depths.
He was gob-smackingly good-looking. Face chiseled along all the right lines.
But coming into contact with a strange were was dangerous. Her having the wrong colored eyes and stinking like a vampire would only attract unwanted attention. Even though she could admire his attractiveness, she couldn’t even think about anything more complicated with a were, even if he was the handsomest man she’d seen for over a hundred years. It would just end badly — largely for her.
It wasn’t fair.
The baby was screaming in sheer outrage now. Hannah unhooked the sling, and the little girl’s wails reduced to whimpering gurgles.
“Do you speak Skarvs?” she asked in Varshian.
The were nodded. “It’s better than my Varshian. Did you want me to put the back down so you can change the baby on the panel?” He smiled at her.
Hannah blushed. He could probably smell the urine on her and the baby. Actually, there’d be no probably about it. Being a bear meant there wouldn’t be much he couldn’t tell from scent alone. But using the cart would make the diaper change much easier, so long as she didn’t touch the wagon. She had gloves on, so it should be safe.
“That would be great,” she said.
The werebear clucked under his tongue and the horse twitched. The smell of fear coiled through the air, but the horse held its spot. The were swung down from his seat, and walked around to the back of the cart.
Hannah was right. He was huge.
“Do you think it’s safe to do this here?” Hannah asked, tugging Betty along with her. “We won’t block anyone?”
The were lowered the back of the wagon. “I can’t smell anyone for a mile in either direction. We’ll be all right for a while yet. Road is pretty much unused. Wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out here, to be honest.” He placed a piece of folded material on the panel.
Hannah dropped Betty’s leash — the goat was thoroughly consumed with her bounty so wouldn’t wander — and laid the baby down.
“Goat giving you problems?” the were asked.
“I’d turn her into stew, if I didn’t need her.” Which wasn't true, because Hannah did love that stupid goat. But she’d never had to rely on Betty before, and the goat could be quite cantankerous when she felt like it.
The were gave a bark of laughter, then pointed at the cart’s bed. “I’d do the same to the human, but I owe him.”
Further back in the cart, a supine form lay on a pine-needle mattress, covered by a blanket. From the smell of vodka wafting from him, Hannah assumed he was sleeping off a hangover.
Hannah shook her head in mock sympathy. “The things we tolerate.” She unwrapped the wet diaper, and the little girl kicked her legs, face scrunched in anger, but not screaming now.
“Name’s Byrne.” The were extended a hand for her to shake.
Hannah just stared, diaper hanging from one hand. She was wearing gloves...but touching a living person, even with protection, could be bad. Especially if it was a were or a vampire, who had centuries of memories.
Slowly, Byrne lowered his hand. His gaze locked on hers, head tilting to one side. His yellow eyes narrowed, and then he nodded to himself.
“You both have names?” he asked.
He took a step toward her, slowly, as if expecting her to bolt in fear. But it wasn’t him Hannah was afraid of. It was herself.
“Names?” She had to crane her neck up to look at him — and she was six foot tall herself.
“Yeah, what are your names? You and the baby.”
Hannah stared at the little girl, naked on the back of the cart. She had completely forgotten that the baby would need a name. Ezra had never bothered to give her one. The sheer enormity — the weight of the decision — almost felled her.
“I’m Hannah Romanov.” She paused briefly, eyes closing in something almost like pain. ”The baby hasn’t got a name yet.”
Byrne smiled, an easy expression. “Well, then. Let’s get this diaper changed and we’ll see about coming up with one.”
Chapter 15
Pinton City
Alice shut the front door behind her, and dropped her shoes on the floor. Her poor feet were screaming in protest. She’d have to remember to leave a spare pair of shoes at the morgue. Not that she showed up at work dressed this way particularly often �
� if ever. But it had been a long night. The vampire autopsy had shown that the method of murder had been almost identical to the other victim. Stake to the heart. Victim killed elsewhere then brought to the site.
No. They weren’t just victims. They had names. But she only knew the first one: Gerard Thornewood.
She mouthed the moniker to herself. He had been a person, until a stake had been shoved through his back. Now he was gone. Someone must have cared for him, would miss him. He’d had sex just before he’d died. Alice wanted to think that the sex and violence hadn’t occurred simultaneously, but she doubted it. What better way to distract your victim?
She’d studied the sperm she’d obtained from the latest victim, hoping she could tell if it came from a human, vampire or were, but she didn’t really have anything to compare it to, not having been able to study any vampire or were semen since she started her job as coroner. She’d never even gotten to view the three different kinds at university. All the same, she’d popped the collected cells under her microscope and drawn up a reference diagram of the sperm’s morphology, just in case.
“I need more samples,” she muttered to herself. Bending down, she righted the shoes so they stood side by side under the small entrance table. Left next to right, in the proper order of things.
“Samples of what?”
Alice nearly jumped out of her skin. If she’d been a were, she very well may have. “Tal! What the—?”
An innocent look from cool gray eyes. “What? Did I scare you?”
Looking around her small hallway, Alice threw her keys on the dainty table, then reached out and popped them in the bowl she had there to house them. Why she bothered to even be temporarily messy, she’d never know. “You know you scared me! What are you doing here?” She hadn’t meant to sound quite so cranky, but it had been a big day and she just wanted to crawl into her bed, pull up the covers, and pass out.
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