Hunger Pangs

by Joy Demorra

  “Well, no fault to you,” his brother said, grinning wolfishly over the lip of the mug. “You move fast when you get a chance.”

  Nathan rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to argue. Miles, of all people, would be impossible to convince that he wasn’t planning something lewd and untoward with Ursula. He was just like that—ever quick to assume that others had the same proclivities he did. “Enjoy the rest of your stay, Miles.”

  “Will do,” he replied, blowing on his mug.

  Nathan tried to move past him, only to be brought up short by a hand around his elbow. He looked up at his brother questioningly.

  “Don’t go getting yourself beat to shit again,” Miles said.

  Realizing this was the closest he was ever going to get to an admission of concern, Nathan cracked a toothy grin.“Wasn’t planning on it,” Nathan said. “Least ways, not without asking first.”

  Miles snorted into his mug and gave Nathan a hearty shove down the stairs. “Go on, get off with you. Go find Ivar before he gnaws his own tail off. I saw him pacing the yard like a mother hen.”

  Nathan threw him a jaunty salute, his boots echoing loudly off the cobblestones as he passed under the archway. Engaged in conversation, Ivar and Ursula had their backs to him. She was dressed for traveling, her long cloak tucked away in favor of a much shorter brown one that left her arms free to move. She still wore her leggings from the day before, and Nathan found himself momentarily distracted by the shapely fit of her behind. He turned his gaze resolutely up, taking in the white linen shirt and the cinched, plaid belt she was wearing. She looked like a Northerner. Gone was the Obërian princess who had arrived at their door, and here instead was someone who could pass for a local. It was remarkable how well she could hide in plain sight.

  “Ah, Northland.” Alfbern appeared at his side, growling low in his ear. He clamped a hand around Nathan’s shoulders and gave him a debilitating squeeze. “Just the wolf I wanted to talk to. Let me make one thing clear. I am tolerating this foolish idea because for some reason, my Little Bear trusts you. I am not a man of words.” He squeezed his hand tighter; Nathan staggered, hissing with pain. “But know that when I tell you if you prove her wrong or let any harm come to a single hair on her head, I will make you pay. Understand?”

  Nathan nodded.

  The werebear shoved him away; a benevolent smile creased his features as he held his hands out wide. “Ah, there’s my Little Bear. All set?”

  “Yep.” Ursula held up her pack roll and a wicker basket. “Lady Northland was kind enough to pack us lunch.”

  “Of course, she did,” Nathan muttered as he rolled his shoulder and then winced when the joint cracked.

  “Shall we get going?” Ursula asked brightly.

  Nathan nodded.

  “A moment, if you please, Lady Ursula.” Ivar bowed: a curious gesture Nathan had only ever seen his uncle give to her. “I don’t get to see my nephew often; I’d like to say goodbye.”

  Ursula inclined her head. “Of course. Come along, Uncle Alfie. You can walk me to the drawbridge.”

  When they’d passed out of sight, Ivar turned toward him, his bushy brows turning down into a frown. “Nathan, lad. I…”

  “It was good to see you again, Uncle Ivar,” Nathan said. “Hopefully it won’t be too long before we meet again. I’ve got the books you gave me.” He jerked his head toward his kitbag. “I’ll make a start on them when I get the time.”

  “You do that.” Ivar smiled. “I know you’ll do your best. You always do. Nathan, there’s something…” He trailed off again, shaking his head. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you. Be careful with Lady Ursula, she’s…” A bead of sweat trickled down his brow. “She’s not… all she seems…”

  Nathan leaned forward, pressing their heads together as he wrapped the old wolf up in a hug. “I know.”

  Ivar froze; the hand halfway to patting Nathan on the back faltered as he drew back. “You do? What do you know? Nathan, whatever it is you think you know, it’s…”

  Nathan gave his shoulders a squeeze and stepped back. “I know,” he repeated, unable to say any more.

  Ivar’s one good eye flickered over him, his expression falling in a profound look of dismay. “Oh, shit.”

  “Goodbye, Uncle.” Nathan laughed. He threw the old wolf a jaunty salute as he hurried to catch up with Ursula. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about when we see each other next.”

  Provided they didn’t fail.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Ursula peered through a crack in the carriage blind, watching the scenery pass by in a blur. When Nathan had suggested they take the train, she’d been hesitant to admit she’d never ridden in one before. It turned out she needn’t have worried because it was Nathan’s first time as well.

  Keenly aware of his bulk pressed against her, she said, “You might have mentioned you get motion sick.”

  The werewolf had practically herded her into the window seat, evidently wanting to put himself between her and the rest of the carriage. No doubt Alfbern’s influence. Ursula knew the old bear had her best interests at heart. But she wouldn’t have put it past him to threaten Nathan with bodily harm should anything happen to her. Highly unnecessary, Ursula thought, but she wouldn’t argue. Not when he was doing such a good job of keeping her right side warm.

  The snow was already melting under the steady onslaught of bleak, gray drizzle. But it was still winter. Already, she missed the thrum of the Ironwoods. She hoped Alfbern was keeping warm by a nice fire. The old bear deserved it after everything they’d gone through to get here.

  “I forgot.” Nathan sounded green about the gills. Apparently, the rhythmic sway of the locomotive didn’t agree with him in the slightest.

  Wrinkling her nose, Ursula turned her gaze back to him. “How do you forget a thing like that?”

  “I don’t travel much anymore,” he explained, keeping his eyes carefully shut as he breathed through his nose. “Not since my injury. This is worse though.” He tipped his head back and chuckled dryly. “I think I might almost prefer the stench of horses.”

  Ursula glanced sideways at him. The line of his brace was hidden under the thick folds of his red coat, but she could still see his listening aids peeking out from under his curly mop of brown hair. She’d been dying to get her hands on them for days now, desperate to see how they worked. But she was also worried she might break them. Her curiosity wasn’t worth depriving Nathan of something that clearly made his life easier.

  She turned her gaze back to the greenery. The trees were already growing sparse, giving way to rolling farmland as far as the eye could see. And the crops rotting in the fields. “You never said how you came by your injuries,” she said.

  “I was at the front, in Bhalein,” Nathan replied, shifting uncomfortably beside her. “Our camp got shelled. I took a bullet to the shoulder.”

  “One hell of a bullet,” Ursula said, and she caught the ghost of his smile in the reflection in the window.

  “It was tipped with silver.”

  Ursula’s breath seized in her chest; she twisted around to stare at him. She reached out, extending her magic toward him. While his life force was a steady presence beside her, there was a sharp twist close to his heart that betrayed how near he’d come to death. She probed further. A warm gleam of yellow entered his ice-blue eyes, the wolf answering the call of her magic.

  “Whatever you’re doing,” he said with a hint of reproach, “I’d prefer if you asked first.”

  Ursula flushed hotly, the blush spreading down her neck. “I’m sorry, I was just… I was just checking… I didn’t think you’d be able to feel that.”

  He shouldn’t have felt any of what she was doing. But then, he also shouldn’t be alive either. She hadn’t heard of a werewolf or any other shifter surviving the mark of silver since… Ursula wasn’t sure she ever had.

  “Are you sure it was silver?”

  Nathan let out a short choke of laughter. “Aye, I’m s
ure. They left a chunk of it in me. The doctor on Eyrie pulled it out. But not before it almost did away with me.” The locomotive lurched and swayed, its heavy metal wheels thundering over a timber bridge. A decidedly gray pallor to his cheeks, he tipped his head back again, breathing heavily through his nose. When he spoke again, it was barely audible over the roar of the train. “It took the wolf from me.”

  But despite the noise, Ursula heard the sorrow in his words. Reaching out, she slipped her gloved hand into his. Nathan looked down, startled, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he returned the gentle squeeze, and Ursula smiled.

  “But you got it back. Because of your doctor on Eyrie.” She knew what she’d seen in him yesterday in the grove. Even after what he’d witnessed, he’d been ready to transform, willing to fight the perceived threat to his home and family. It was a rare soul who could look upon the work of the fae and prepare to run toward it.

  A fond smile broke over his handsome features as he pulled his hand away. “Because of my doctor on Eyrie,” Nathan agreed. “And Vlad.”

  “Your vampire. The clever one.”

  He gave another one of those gentle huffs of laughter. “Yes, I suppose he is.”

  “Tell me more about him.” She settled back into her seat and pulled her cloak around her. “He sounds like a good friend.”

  They still had several hours to go. The least she could do was get comfortable and spend it finding out about the other person who was going to help her save the world.

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  Later Later Winter, 1888

  The Red Room was not, strictly speaking, red. The furnishings of the room were deep mahogany, the floors and the panel walls rendered in the same dark wood that could, from a certain angle, appear reddish in hue. But that wasn’t the real reason the members of Parliament and household staff referred to it as such. No, the real reason for that name was that Parliament had given it to the vampires to use as their base of operations in the capitol. So naturally, it had the largest windows, faced south, and had approximately zero insulation.

  Vlad hated it. Which, he supposed, was the point.

  Blowing on his hands, he rubbed them together. A meager fire had been lit in the hearth earlier in the morning in anticipation of his arrival, but it had long since gone out. Vlad lacked the motivation to do anything about it; he was far too engrossed in the numbers on his desk. Parliament had given him the rough estimates of how many refugees would soon begin filtering into Eyrie. It was, to put it mildly, catastrophically dire.

  Vlad had no idea what they were going to do with them all. But the Count had ordered him to find a way, so find a way he would. He sat back, twirling a pen in his hands as he looked unseeing at the far wall. Numbers danced across his vision, rearranging themselves as he shuffled them about, trying to balance them against the stores he knew they had and where he’d be able to make improvements to the infrastructure.

  Vlad had always been good with numbers. They made sense. Which was just as well because not much else in the world did at the moment. It was getting harder to tell what was reality and what were his own anxious imaginings, especially as the gap between the two grew increasingly smaller with every passing day. It didn’t help that he’d had a headache for the last week or so, probably from a combination of stress and the weather, that nothing he took seemed to ease. But the least he could do was make the numbers work. Even if he couldn’t control anything else, he could control numbers.

  A knock at the door startled him, and the delicate balancing act of mental arithmetic he’d been doing fell apart. Annoyed, Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes? What is it?”

  A valet peered around the door. “Visitor to see you, Viscount,” he announced brusquely. “Down in reception.”

  “What? Who?” Vlad asked, but the other man had already gone. He likely had more important things to do than talk to a vampire. Like bringing Twoforths another snifter of brandy. Sighing, Vlad set down his pen and got up to see who it was.

  He was halfway down the marble staircase that dominated the equally impressive marble foyer when he spotted the familiar outline of broad shoulders framed in a vivid red coat. “Nathan?” he called, pleasantly surprised.

  The werewolf wasn’t due to meet him for another two days. Then Nathan turned to greet him and Vlad’s smile faltered, freezing in place at the sight of the young woman standing behind him. She was stunningly beautiful. Gorgeous. As Vlad gave her a quick once over, he lingered on the curls of her blonde hair, the sun-kissed glow of her complexion, and the shapely figure barely concealed under the short brown wool of her cloak. Glancing up he caught a mischievous glint in her tawny eyes and realized she’d been doing the same to him.

  Part of him wondered if she found him as attractive as he found her.

  “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said, extending his hand to Nathan. The gesture was alien, overly formal, and not at all how he’d envisioned their reunion. “What can I do for you, Captain?” A thread of worry slithered through him. Was something wrong? Had something happened? Why was Nathan here with this woman?

  When Nathan’s fingers clasped around his, his thumb darted out to caress the back of Vlad’s knuckles, a subtle, but deliberate, gesture that eased the tension building in Vlad’s chest.

  “Viscount,” Nathan greeted him just as formally. “My apologies for dropping in unannounced. But I was rather hoping for a moment of your time.”

  His smile rigidly polite, Vlad inclined his head. “Yes, of course.”

  “So, you’re the vampire I’ve heard all about,” the woman said; those curious golden eyes flicked over him again. “Nathan’s been extolling your virtues all the way from Lorehaven. Yet he failed to mention you were quite so handsome.”

  Vlad laughed shortly, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. Well, that answers that question. “Perhaps he thought it went without saying,” he said, retreating behind the familiar armor of flirtation with ease. “Forgive me, but I do not know the privilege of your name, Miss…”

  “Lady,” she corrected. She placed her gloved hand into his and dropped the merest of curtsies. “But you can call me Ursula.”

  There was a melodious lilt to her accent that Vlad couldn’t place. But that wasn’t anything new. Nevrond was the melting pot of the world. That kind of thing tended to happen when you invaded almost any scrap of land big enough to stick a flagpole in.

  “Lady Ursula.” Vlad pressed his lips to the soft leather. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please, call me Vlad.” Nathan cleared his throat loudly, and Vlad let her hand drop even though his fingers didn’t want to let go. “What can I do for you?”

  “Is there somewhere private we could talk?” Nathan asked, eyeing the busy reception hall. They were already starting to draw attention: Vlad by virtue of being himself, Lady Ursula for her wild good looks, and Nathan for towering head and shoulders above everyone else.

  “In Parliament Hall?” Laughing, Vlad glanced sideways, causing several curious onlookers to hurry on. “Not likely. I have a small office upstairs if you don’t mind being on top of each other.”

  “Sounds cozy,” Lady Ursula said as she hooked her arm under his and guided him to the stairs. “Shall we?”

  Vlad followed her; he didn’t have much choice with his arm locked in her vise-like grip. Eyes meeting Nathan’s, he raised his eyebrows in question. But the werewolf merely shook his head.

  If possible, the Red Room was even colder than when he’d left it. Vlad hurried to feed coal into the hearth. Satisfied the two mortals weren’t about to freeze to death, he resumed his seat behind the desk. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but Lady Ursula beat him to it. “Nathan tells me you’ve made a study of botany, Viscount.”

  Vlad opened his mouth and regarded Nathan questioningly. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Yes, I dabble somewhat in the arcane art of gardening.” He smiled as she laughed. It was a ple
asant sound, vivacious and bubbly. Like one of those fizzy tonic drinks that made his teeth vibrate and the world spin.

  “Marvelous. I’m something of a student myself.” She smiled sweetly, looking up at him from under thick, dark lashes.

  “Really?” Vlad wondered where this was going. “Well, it’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow enthusiast. And how is it you know Captain Northland?”

  “I’m an old friend of the family. Nathan was telling me all about your wonderful hothouse, and I thought you might be able to help me with something.”

  “Oh?” Four hundred years of unlife hadn’t dimmed his ability to discern when someone was flattering him a little too much. He’d have to see how this would play out.

  “You see, Lady Northland grows the most exquisite dog roses. But I’m afraid they’ve gotten sick. She asked me to look at them, but I’m afraid I’m stumped.”

  “I see.” Vlad glanced between them—from Lady Ursula’s shining innocence to Nathan’s hangdog expression. Her story was obviously a ruse, but he was willing to entertain it. For now. “Lorehaven is a long way to travel to ask about dog roses. Especially since they’re typically dormant at this time of year.”

  Lady Ursula’s expression flickered, but she maintained her smile. “Lots of things grow out of season in the Ironwoods.”

  “Ah, yes.” Amused at her obvious lie, Vlad leaned back in his chair. “I forgot. You have a magical forest to keep things alive while I must make do with steam. Well, why don’t you describe the problem, and I’ll see if I can help.” And see how long it would take before he figured out just what she really was after… and why.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Nathan blurted. “Vlad, the Ironwoods are sick.”

  Vlad froze, blinking. He struggled to shift from the light, almost teasing, deceptions to something that was deadly serious.

  Lady Ursula seemed as shocked as Vlad at Nathan’s interruption. Rounding on the werewolf, she hissed, “What are you doing?”