by Amy Cross
Dark Season III: Army of Wolves
by Amy Cross
Kindle Edition
Copyright Amy Cross, All Rights Reserved
Published by Dark Season Books
This edition released: December 2011
http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome, either in the form of Amazon reviews or at the website listed above. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.
Prologue
All around us, there are wolves. Thousands of them. But when the three of us are together, we're too powerful for them. They're too scared to come near us, even though they're snarling and straining with frustration at not being able to leap forward and rip us to pieces. To be honest, it's all a wee bit unwelcoming.
Patrick doesn't show an ounce of fear, of course. Never does. I sometimes wonder what the fuck's going through that mind of his. Then there's Cassandra. I know she's scared. I can see it in her eyes. But that's only 'cause I know her so well. To anyone else, she seems fearless and bold.
The Alpha Wolf is at the front. He doesn't really care about Patrick and Cassandra. It's me he wants. I did something he can never forget. And if he's to protect his alpha status in the pack, he has to be seen to deal with me. In ordinary circumstances, he'd have ripped me apart years ago.
But I've got these friends...
Patrick doesn't speak, and my voice is unwelcome here. So Cassandra does all the talking. She offers them the deal that will secure my freedom and give them what they want. It's a good deal. Hell, it's a fucking great deal. But the Alpha Wolf has to protect his honour. He has to show his pack that he always gets what he wants. Good job, then, that Cassandra's so persuasive.
As the Alpha Wolf and Cassandra walk away together, Patrick and I exchange a glance. And then we leave, walking past the thousands of gathered wolves. Every step, I consider turning back to save Cassandra. But I know I can't. This is how it has to be. We're both lucky that our destinies happened to coincide so nicely.
And now I have exactly one hundred years before I need to worry about the fucking wolves again. One hundred years, eh? Sounds like forever.
One
The music's so loud, I can't hear a word Shelley's saying. So while she shouts in my ear, I keep my eyes fixed on the bar, where Adam and Rob are trying to get through the crowd to get drinks. This place is so crowded, it's unreal. No matter where you stand, you're surrounded by people pushing, shoving, dancing, shouting, kissing and, in a few cases, looking pretty ill. We're in this dark little club and it's so hot there's sweat stains on my top, except I'm not even sure it's my own sweat.
I decide I have to get out of here, so I interrupt Shelley by nudging her in the arm and pointing at the fire escape door. She nods, understanding. I know she won't come out with me, because she loves this kind of club. She's in her element. Me? I can take it for a while, but no matter how much I drink, I always seem to hit this wall where I stop getting drunk and just feel icky. So I battle my way through the crowd, up the steps and out onto the cool fire escape balcony where, surprisingly, there's only one other person.
"I knew you'd come out here eventually," he says with a soft, Scottish accent.
It's dark and I can't really see his face. The thumping music from the club is impossible to entirely ignore. I decide not to say anything, so I smile and go to the other side of the balcony. Just a couple of minutes is all I need, to cool off before I go back in for Round Two.
"Terribly rude of me," says the Scottish guy. "Do you mind if I introduce myself?"
"It's okay, thanks," I say, trying to be polite but firm. I've already got enough guys in my life to deal with, without worrying about a third.
"No worries," says the guy, who's still kind of hidden in the shadows.
I glance at him. All I can see is a little red light burning in the darkness. Nice, a smoker. I turn and look down at the alley two storeys below, full of abandoned boxes and trash cans.
Suddenly, a thought hits me. A bizarre and weird thought, but... I glance up at the guy, whose face is still hidden in the shadows. It couldn't be... I mean, I've never heard Patrick's voice, so... I get a little tingle in my spine. I know it's not him, it can't be! But you never really know, do you? Not until you find out for sure. So I look at him again and I try to make out his features.
Suddenly he steps forward, and I see it's not Patrick at all. This guy's pretty good-looking, though he's not my type: he's kind of short-to-medium height, well-built with a close-shaved head and plenty of stubble. But he looks friendly, with one of those faces that looks like it's always smiling. "Hamish," he says. "From Scotland, in case you can't tell".
He holds out a hand and I, somewhat reluctantly, shake it.
"Sophie," I say.
"Aye, I know," he says.
I smile. That's a joke, right?
"I didn't mean to freak you out," he says. "I just came out here to get some air. It's fucking packed in there, man". Wow. I think that's the first time anyone's ever called me 'man' before. "Good club, though," he continues. "Good tunes".
I nod, agreeing, even though I don't agree at all. As far as I'm concerned, it's a packed little furnace of sweaty people all hoping to go home with a stranger, and the constant backdrop of rubbish music doesn't help much.
"I'm new in town," Hamish says. "Not gonna be here that long, but I'm really hoping to get to know the place while I'm here. Is this the best club?"
I shrug. "I don't really know," I say. "I guess they're all kind of the same". This is small talk. I hate small talk. Sorry, I must sound so grumpy but the truth is, it's gone midnight and I'm tired, and I only came to this club because Adam, Shelley and Rob were begging me. Sometimes I wish Adam hadn't hit it off with my friends so well. It's inconvenient to have my boyfriend and my only other friends working in a pack like this.
"I'll leave you alone," Hamish says, dropping his cigarette and crushing it with his shoe. "Sorry to intrude upon your private moment". As he walks past me, he raises a hand and brushes my arm.
"It's fine," I say. "Thanks. Have a good night".
"Aye," he says. He goes to the door , then turns back to me. "Oh, and if you get a chance, say hi to Patrick for me, yeah?"
Before I've even realised what he said, he's opened the door and disappeared into the loud, busy throng of people inside the club.
"What?" I say, and then I rush in to try to find him. I've never met anyone else who knows Patrick. Not Adam, not Shelley, not Rob. No-one, apart from Vincent and he doesn't really count. No, Patrick has been my secret so far. And now suddenly some short Scottish guy's going on about him? I push through the crowds, desperately trying to spot Hamish, but it's impossible. With all these people, it'd be impossible even if the lights weren't so low. I squeeze, a little rudely, through the army of partiers and suddenly I'm face to face with Adam.
"Hey," he shouts, trying to hug me, but I slip away and push on through the crowd. Soon I'm at the stairs, where there aren't so many people, and I race down, still looking for Hamish. I reach the foyer, but there's no sign of him, so I run to the door and out into the street. I look around but there's no sign of him. Damn. He must still be inside, so I turn to go back in, but a doorman stops me.
"Stamp," he says.
I show him my hand, but the ink has completely run off.
"Back of the line," he says, pointing at the small queue of people waiting patiently to get in.
"I was just in there," I say. "You saw me come out".
"No stamp, no re-entry," he says firmly.
&nbs
p; "It -" I look at where the stamp was. "It's the sweat!" I say, somewhat forlornly. But I can tell from the doorman's expression that there's no way I can argue with him. I walk to the back of the line and take my place. If I had a mobile phone, I could call Adam and get him to help. I definitely need to get a job so I can afford stuff like that. But in the meantime, what I really need to do is find this Hamish guy again. As I queue, I keep an eye on the door, just in case he comes out.
Two
Ireland - 1512 AD.
The first place I go to is Ireland. Mainly, 'cause I've heard the women are so welcoming. Well, okay, I'm actually here for two reasons: one is the women, and the other is that I've heard these crazy stories about some of the druids in the north. One in particular, named Azael, is said to be able to cure curses. Now, I'm not normally one for believing in fairytales like that. After all, whoever heard of a Druid who truly can cure curses? Then again, it's worth a shot, and it might be the only chance I've got when it comes to slipping away when my hundred years are up.
I travel to the town where Azael is said to live. The first thing I learn is that 'he' is in fact a 'she'. Great, two birds with one stone. I ask around and I'm told where I can find her. Turns out, she hangs around in this little pub by the river, so I sit in there for a few nights waiting for her to come in. All the while, I'm thinking about what would happen if it turns out that she really can lift the curse. I'd be mortal. I'd live a normal mortal life. With a normal mortal lifespan, I'd probably live another thirty, maybe forty years. But it'd be a normal life. A real life. Perhaps with a woman. I could handle that, right?
I spend almost a week sitting in the pub night after night, convincing myself that I want mortality, when eventually I spot a woman who I instantly know is Azael. She's exactly as I'd imagine: long reddish hair, and the most beautiful brown eyes. I get up from my seat and walk over to where she's standing at the bar. We make eye contact, but I'm not quite sure how to start the conversation.
"What do you want?" she asks wearily.
"I was kind of hoping you could help me," I say, annoyed with myself for not thinking up a better way to start this.
"Depends what you want," she says. She's not looking at me now. Instead, she's focusing on a mug of beer she's just bought.
"I have this problem," I say. "With... moonlight, if you get what I'm saying".
A smile crosses her lips. "I get what you're saying," she says. "But I don't see what it has to be a problem".
"It's a problem if you've got all the fucking werewolves in the world hunting you down," I say.
She looks at me. "Follow," she says, taking her mug of beer and leading me out around the bar and through a door into a back room.
"I hope this isn't an inconvenience," I say.
"It kind of is," she says. "I don't want werewolves knocking on my door, thank you very much".
"No danger of that," I say. "I've got a hundred year head start".
"Interesting," she says. "You struck a bargain?"
I nod. "Something like that".
"There's only one reason the Alpha Wolf would strike a bargain like that," she says. "And that's if he knows that giving you a head start would be the only way to make the chase interesting. He can't have much of an opinion of you".
I shrug. "I've got time to learn. Unless you help me, in which case I wouldn't need to learn". I step towards her, but she steps back.
"Don't touch me," she says. "I don't want your scent on me. Listen, understand this... I can't help you. You're not cursed. If you're a werewolf, it's because you were born that way. There's no such thing as curses. What kind of mind have you got?"
I was kind of afraid she'd say that. In my desperation, I hoped that my condition was the result of a curse, perhaps one given to me when I was born. But deep down, I think I've always known that there's no 'curse'. This is who I am. It's what I am. And I can only stop being a werewolf if - when - I die.
"Okay," I say. "Thanks anyway. I guess there's nothing you can do for me". I turn to leave.
"There's one thing I can do," she says.
I turn back to look at her.
"I can give you some advice," she says, coming closer. "Run. Get good at running. Because that's the only way you'll ever survive, do you understand? Even then, it's just a matter of time, because they'll always, always be on your trail". She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "Good luck. And never come to me again. I don't want them following your scent to my door, you understand?"
I nod. Then I turn and leave, walking out through the pub and into the cold Irish night. I look at the stars, make some calculations and start walking south.
Three
Adam walks me home. It's almost 2am and I know he wants to stay the night, but I have other plans. I need to go and find Patrick, but I can't really explain that to Adam so I have to come up with some kind of excuse. After all, Adam knows nothing about Patrick.
"I think I just want to go to sleep," I say as we get to my door.
"That's fine," he says. "That's all I want to do too".
"Yeah," I say. "But I have to be up early to go looking for jobs, so is it okay if you go home tonight instead?"
He stares at me for a moment. "Sure," he says. "See you around". He turns to walk away, then stops and turns back. "You know, we have to try some time".
He's right. We've been together for three months now, and we've only tried to have sex once. I warned him from the start that I find it painful, and he said he understood, but it's hard for him. He thinks he can 'fix' me if he just gets it right.
"Another time," I say. "It's not about that tonight. I'm tired".
He nods, then walks away. I know I should go after him and tell him that everything's okay, but the truth is I know I can do that tomorrow or the day after, whereas I need to see Patrick now. Actually, maybe it's Vincent I really need to see. After all, I can talk to Patrick all night, but he can't say anything back to me. Can't or won't. But Vincent doesn't mind answering my questions. So I guess I kind of need to see both of them. Either way, Adam can wait until I have some free time.
As I hurry down the street, on my way to find Patrick and Vincent, I can't help worrying that I'm treating Adam like he's just a hobby.
Why is it that I can never find the entrance to Patrick and Vincent's home? I've been here half a dozen times now, yet finding the entrance to the tunnel that leads down there is always difficult. Instead, I end up stumbling about the woods on the edge of town, usually at night, usually for hours without having any luck. It's almost like the entrance isn't always there, like it's hidden from being recognised. Probably a good idea. I doubt they want any unexpected visitors. Also...
I think I'm being followed.
I stand still in the moonlight, listening. As I walked through town to get here, I felt like someone was trailing me. Since I entered the woods, I've heard the occasional rustle far off behind me. So I'm pretty sure that Adam is tailing me, which is a problem. How the hell am I supposed to explain the fact that I'm out here in the woods in the small hours when I told him I was tired.
I turn. "Okay Adam," I say, despite the fact that I can't see him. I know what I'm going to say when he confronts me. I'm going to tell him that I knew he was following me, and that I led him out here so we can make love. After all, it's a warm night. I'll tell him I was hoping it would relax me to be out here. And then we'll see what happens. He'll probably get frustrated when we have to stop, because there's no way I can hide the pain from him, it's too intense. Still, it's my only option. There's no way I can tell him about Patrick and Vincent.
There's a cracking sound in the undergrowth, like someone stepping on a twig. And this time I see a figure moving briefly.
"Adam," I say. "Come on, get out here where I can see you".
Silence. This is starting to get a little creepy. It's crossed my mind that maybe it's not Adam at all, maybe it's Patrick. But I have to be careful. There's also an outside chance it's neither of them, that it's some
random axe murderer, but that's okay: I kind of feel like Patrick's always watching me, ready to help if I get into any real danger.
I open my mouth to call Adam again, but a figure steps out from behind a tree. I can instantly see that it's not Adam. It's not Patrick, either. I instantly tense up a little and start glancing around, hoping Patrick's out there somewhere.
"I'm not alone," I say. "I know it looks like I am, but I'm not. You should go away right now".
The figure steps forward. The moon has gone behind a cloud so there's very little light, but I can just make out the guy's face. I've never seen him before. He's very thin, with long hair down to his shoulders. He's wearing dark clothes, with what looks like a tunic. And I know I said it seemed warm out tonight, but suddenly it feels much, much colder.
"I'll be off, then," I say. "Have a nice night". I turn to walk away, but I'm immediately aware that he's coming up behind me. I turn back just as he reaches me. He grabs me by the shoulders and leans in, sniffing me. I try to push him off but he's too strong, and he's holding me in place with no problem. After a moment, he looks up at me, and then past me. Finally he lets me go.
"Are you looking after this one?" the stranger asks someone who I haven't seen yet. I turn and see Patrick standing close. I hadn't heard him arrive, but he's here and I don't think I've ever been more grateful to see him.
"Tell her to keep better company," the stranger says. He steps past me, towards Patrick. "Goes for you too. If you happen to bump into any undesirables around here, you should tell them they're very, very late paying their debts, if you know what I mean".
Patrick, as always, says nothing. He just stands his ground. I don't think he's actually looked at me yet, he's just staring at this strange man, like he doesn't dare look away for a second.
"You know the terms," says the man. "A hundred years. It's been a lot longer than a hundred years and still he keeps running And the funny thing is, I can smell him here". He looks at me. "Met any strange men recently?"
