by Jane Godman
“It is too late for that.” A mocking voice came from the shadowy part of the tunnel beyond Nate’s view. Dario limped into view, a smug smile twisting his lips. “But I did enjoy the touching family reunion.”
Nate stepped forward, blocking Dario’s access to Violet. “I beat you once, man against wolf. What makes you think the rematch will be different?”
“Because you don’t have your friends with you this time—” Dario’s smile deepened and became nastier “—but I do.”
Nevan stepped out of the gloom to stand alongside Dario. Ranged behind him were the other four men who had accompanied Dario to Vermont, Marseilles and Barcelona. The men who had shifted to become huge, destructive werewolves.
This wasn’t going to end well, but Nate decided he was going down fighting. Swinging the bolt cutter with both hands, he caught Dario a crushing blow across the side of the head with the heavy metal tool. A look of surprise crossed the other man’s face, and blood splattered Nate’s hands before Dario hit the floor in a crumpled heap. It was the cue for the other men to attack. Shifting into werewolf form, they circled Nate with bared teeth and pinned-back ears.
“The leader of the Alliance warned you not to hurt him.” Violet’s voice, high-pitched and panicky, echoed off the tunnel walls. “Merlin Caledonius will not tolerate it if you harm his friend.”
Nevan spat out a curse. “She is right. That half-breed sorcerer has guaranteed his pet mortal will be protected throughout his time in Otherworld. Capture him, but leave him unharmed.”
Snarling their disappointment, the werewolves shifted back. Determined not to give in without a fight, Nate lashed out left and right with the bolt cutter, even managing to open the tool and inflict damage on his opponents by slicing into their hands as they tried to grab him. Howls and profanities filled the air.
“Take that fucking weapon off him.” Nevan’s furious shout rose about the sounds of the fight. “He is only a mortal.”
Eventually, the four men cornered Nate and overpowered him, pinning him to the floor with his wrists behind his back. Nevan stepped up close to him, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes just touching the corners of his lips. “Since your sorcerer friend is so fond of you, I will be happy to return you to him. Always supposing you survive the journey, of course. I can’t be held responsible for any accidents that may befall the boat that carries you, can I?”
Nate jerked against the strong arms that held him, but it was useless. “I don’t care what you do to me, as long as you let Violet go.”
Nevan laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. “You speak as though she means something to me. She never did. The daughter of my worst enemy and his whore? Why should I care about her?” He turned to Dario, who had regained consciousness and was staggering to his feet. “Put the girl in the cell next to her mother.” He laughed again. “Quite the family gathering we have down here now.”
As he was pulled along the tunnel away from the cells, Nate dragged his feet, turning his head frantically in an attempt to look over his shoulder. “I’ll come back for you, Violet. Somehow, I’ll get back here and free you.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” Nevan said. “I really don’t think you will.”
* * *
Nate caused Nevan’s beta werewolves so many problems that, in the end, they tied him up before dumping him on the deck of the boat on which he and Violet had traveled with Nevan from the Faerie Isles. As he flailed wildly in their grasp, landing punches and kicks indiscriminately, he sensed the restraint it was taking them to follow Nevan’s orders and keep from beating him senseless.
Good. I hope the stress gives one of you a fucking coronary.
When, after about half an hour, they eventually had him under control, Dario, one side of his face a bloody mess, opened the cover on the engine and ripped out a handful of wires. Kneeling on the deck, he held the tangled mass close to Nate’s face with a grin. “Let’s see how far you get without these.”
Nate didn’t have a clear view of what was going on around him, but he saw Nevan shove Emil onto the boat.
“Start it up,” the Wolf Leader growled at the young werewolf.
Emil licked his lips and, with shaking hands, started the engine. His expression became even more fearful when he heard the groaning and clunking noises it made. “There is something wrong with it.”
Dario laughed and threw the wires he had torn out into the water. “You don’t say.”
Nevan and his beta werewolves stepped onto the harbor wall. “If the engine doesn’t work, you’ll have to use the sails.”
“We’ll never make it to the Faerie Isles under sail,” Emil said. “Some of the waters we have to pass through are treacherous even in calm weather. Today there is another storm brewing.”
“At least you can say you died trying.” Their laughter combined with the chugging sound of the engine as the boat began to move.
The vessel limped out of the bay in a cloud of gray smoke that streamed from the engine. Although Nate was no sailor, he could tell by the screeching noises that there was something very wrong. It was also evident from the pitch and roll of the boat that the sea, even in the sheltered harbor, was choppy. Once they were out of sight of land and he was sure they could no longer be seen by Nevan, Emil shut the engine off and untied Nate.
Nate rubbed his cramped wrists and ankles. “Is there anything you can do to fix the engine?” Even as he asked the question, he knew it was futile.
Emil slumped onto the wooden boards of the deck in an attitude of defeat. “It’s damaged beyond repair.”
“Why did Nevan involve you in this?” Nate asked. “Did he find out you had helped us?”
Emil shook his head. “I don’t think so. He remembered that it was my lady who got me the job. He said he wanted no more reminders of her in his house.”
The words struck fear into Nate’s heart. Could he rely on Nevan keeping Violet alive, even as a captive? He had to act, and do it fast. But how? The sea was whipping up into a frenzy. The boat was already being tossed around like a toy on white-tipped waves, while darkening clouds threatened worse weather to come. “So we need to use the sails?”
Emil gave him a pitying look. “I already explained we will never make it to the Faerie Isles under sail.”
“I’m not suggesting we try.” Nate rose and reached down a hand and pulled the young werewolf to his feet. “We only need to go as far as Reznati.”
“Reznati?” Emil was blinking at him in wonder.
“Have I got the name wrong? The island where the resistance is based? I need to find Roko.”
Emil nodded slowly, his expression changing to one of fascinated wonder. “That is Reznati.”
Nate viewed the sky. “I saw it on a map once, and it didn’t appear too far away, but these conditions don’t look good. Can you take us there?”
Without warning, Emil erupted into action. “We need to start the engine back up briefly so we can keep the boat facing into the wind as we hoist the sail. You will have to take the wheel while I hoist the sails.” The switch from frightened boy to experienced sailor within seconds was astounding, but Nate wasn’t complaining.
Holding the boat steady against the heaving waves and blustering wind was no easy task. Nate’s muscles were soon aching as he battled the wheel, conscious as he did so of Emil struggling to get the mainsail in place. Once that was done, Nate could see him raising a smaller, triangular sail. Something in the recesses of his memory told him it was called a jib. Since he had no idea about sailing, he was glad to be traveling with someone who knew what he was doing.
His mind insisted on returning to Violet trapped in that cell, and he forced himself to focus. He could be of use to her only if he kept going and didn’t stop to think. Allowing his mind to freeze while negative thoughts of fear, anger and revenge took over wasn’t helpful. Those feelings hadn’
t gone away, but he would deal with them later, when Violet was safe. Because he had to make sure Violet was safe. Anything else was unthinkable. He would do all he could to make it so. Sail on a damaged boat in a looming storm. Seek out Roko, a man who hated him, and place his life in the hands of the resistance and ask for their help. Return to Urlati, and deal with Nevan...even if it meant breaking his vow and killing the bastard. If the truth was told, turning his back on a promise and killing Nevan was looking very tempting right now. It was about the only thing keeping him from tipping back his head and howling at the churning sky.
And if that is yet more confirmation that I’m a wolf in human clothing...well, I’ll take that.
Once Emil got the sails in place, he returned to shut down the beleaguered engine. Nate was happy to be relegated to the position of first mate, following the younger man’s instructions as the boat took off, climbing the waves, reaching the crests and swooping down the other sides. From then on, they were on a constant roller-coaster ride. Foam sprayed around them, limiting visibility, while water poured over the deck, threatening to sweep them off their feet. The constant plunging-and-jerking movement was disorienting, and keeping the boat on course while the elements attempted to throw it around was exhausting.
Although the journey should have been a short one, they were blown wildly off course and had to keep fighting to get back on track. Nate had no idea how many hours later it was when they finally sailed into the harbor at Reznati. He had reached the stage of fatigue where he was aware of what was going on around him, but his body was stretched so tight with weariness that his whole focus was on remaining upright. The journey had drained every ounce of his energy, yet somewhere at the back of his tired mind a tiny hint of exhilaration was starting to flicker into life.
They had done it. Against all the odds, they had made it to land. Now all he had to do was persuade Roko to help him instead of killing him.
* * *
Although she and Dorotea couldn’t see each other in their side-by-side cells, if they sat with their backs against the bars and slid their hands outside, they could just touch fingertips. They sat that way for hours. Even though it was impossible to judge the time of day in the depths of the tunnel, Violet knew night had fallen. Her wolf, so recently rediscovered, told her it was so by surging against the constraints of her mortal body, demanding release.
She had a horrible feeling that Bartol was suffering from the same debilitating illness that had struck her in the mortal realm. Perhaps his own wolf, trapped by these confining walls, was unable to find release and was dying, taking his human self along with it. But, if that was the case, why did Dorotea appear healthy?
“I wondered about that,” Dorotea said when Violet explained her theory to her. “I am older than you and Bartol, and my inner wolf is not as active. When I shift, I do not require as much exercise. I still shift regularly in this small cell, and I do find it restrictive, but it keeps my werewolf satisfied. It wasn’t enough for Bartol.”
Violet conceded that it was a possibility. If so, it didn’t bode well for her future. She had recovered so recently from her illness that she was sure a stay of any length in this cell would cause her to quickly relapse. There was no point mentioning that to her mother. Having one child wasting away down here was bad enough. She didn’t need to contemplate the prospect of it happening to a second.
“The man who was with you... I could tell he loves you very much.”
“His name is Nate.” Violet’s breath hitched. “We love each other.”
“He said he would come back for you.”
Violet summoned up the image of Nate’s face as Nevan’s beta wolves dragged him away. The anguish and determination on his beloved features would be forever imprinted on her mind. “It isn’t that easy,” she explained. “His survival in Otherworld is fragile now that he is away from his friend Cal. He is a mortal.”
“I don’t understand.” Violet could hear the confusion in Dorotea’s voice. “He felt like a werewolf.”
“It’s a long story.” She told her mother all of it. From the feral werewolf attack to their arrival in the Wolf Nation. “Nate isn’t a werewolf, but he is my mate.”
“He sounds like a fine man. I wish I could have spent time getting to know him.” Violet didn’t like the finality her mother’s words hinted at. “There was another man imprisoned here for a short time. His name was Roko. He spoke of you with great fondness, too.”
The mention of Roko’s name triggered something that had been bothering Violet. “How did he manage to escape, yet he left you and Bartol here?”
“I don’t know how it happened. He was here one day and gone the next, which makes me wonder if he may have bribed Dario.” It sounded like Dorotea had given the matter some thought. “There is no other way out of these cells. Believe me, I have tried everything over the years.”
“Roko said you swore him to secrecy.”
“I knew he was determined to leave here and take up arms against Nevan. I thought if he used my story to drum up support for the resistance, it would damage my family. I didn’t know you were alive, of course, but I thought of the gossip that would ensue and how it would affect my other children.” There was a note of pride in Dorotea’s voice. “And I didn’t want to be the woman whose infidelity was the cause of a civil war. Anwyl and I fell in love. We didn’t plan it, and we didn’t intend to hurt anyone, least of all Nevan. I won’t have our love for each other used to promote someone else’s ideals.”
Violet didn’t want to hurt her mother by telling her then that her infidelity had been the cause of a civil war. One so long and violent it had torn the Wolf Nation apart. If Dorotea ever got out of her prison, she would have to know the truth, but for now she may as well remain in ignorance.
“Tell me about Anwyl.” Violet had never been close to Nevan. She couldn’t help wondering how her life might have been if she had known the man who was really her father.
Dorotea’s voice softened. “My life with Nevan wasn’t happy. Oh, there were happy moments within it. My greatest pleasure was my children, and, although Nevan could be demanding, I never saw his cruel streak until later in our marriage.”
“So until your affair with Anwyl, he had no thoughts of rebellion?” Violet had only ever known Nevan as the angry, driven man who, throughout her life, had wanted to destroy Anwyl and to take over as Wolf Leader.
“No. We were an ordinary family. Nevan was successful and we had a comfortable life, but when I met Anwyl my whole life changed. For the first time, I knew what love was.” Violet thought of her own feelings toward Nate and understood exactly what her mother meant. “When Nevan found out, he was wild with rage.”
“How did he find out?”
“When I discovered I was pregnant with you, I knew you were Anwyl’s child. I told Nevan the truth. He waited until you were born and then locked me up down here. He took great delight in telling me that the whole world, including Anwyl, thought I had died from the complications of childbirth.”
“Weren’t you able to get word to Anwyl during your pregnancy? Couldn’t the two of you have gone away together?”
“He was away in the mortal realm dealing with problems there throughout that time. He left just before I found out I was pregnant and I never saw him again. But, even if he had known, he would have faced a difficult choice. He, too, was married with children of his own.”
“So through all the years he and Nevan were fighting, Anwyl never knew you were alive.” Violet shook her head at the tragedy of the story. Nevan had kept three people who should have known and loved each other apart all those years. Four people, if Bartol was included. Through his anger and selfishness, her family had been deprived of so much.
“Dario told me Anwyl had been killed when Nevan took over as Wolf Leader. Is that true, or was he lying to torture me?” There was a note of hope in Dorotea’s voice and it bro
ke Violet’s heart to be forced to quash it.
“I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
Dorotea grew upset and Violet did her best to comfort her, even though this relationship was so new to them both and they were only just learning how to know each other. After a while her mother became tired and bade Violet good-night. By the light of the wall lanterns, Violet could see the narrow bunk in her cell and a metal bucket in the corner. She grimaced. It was no good. Nature was calling, and she was forced to use the bucket to empty her bladder. There was a bowl of water in the other corner, and she splashed her face. Practical notions occupied her mind as she removed her sneakers, jeans and sweatshirt in preparation to try to get some sleep. Dorotea had appeared clean, so there must be some way to do more than just wash her hands and face, and her mother’s clothing wasn’t worn, so somewhere along the way she must have been provided with new items.
She lay down on the bunk clad only in a T-shirt and her underwear and closed her eyes. Sleep refused to come. Her memory had returned in full now, and thoughts of her strange, loveless childhood occupied her mind. She wondered now if one of the reasons why her memory had taken so long to return was that there wasn’t anything she wanted to remember. She knew now it was because she had received more affection and warmth from the refugees on Vukod than she ever had from the man who had called himself her father. Perhaps subconsciously, her mind had been busy trying to create new memories with Nate because, for the first time in her life, she had found love and happiness.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key grating in the lock. She looked up in surprise as Dario entered the cell, locking the door behind him and leaning his broad shoulders against the bars. Her heart sank as she read his intention in his eyes.
“It will be nice to sink into fresh, young flesh for a change.” His gaze made her skin crawl as it wandered over her body. “Your mother is a good-looking woman, but she grew tired of fighting me years ago. I feel sure you will provide me with more of a challenge.”
