Shadow Wolf: A Shifter Romance (Arctic Brotherhood, Book 2)

by Jane Godman

  As soon as she allowed herself to start feeling happy, the questions began to creep in. Valetta thought she knew what those cave paintings meant and what the prophecy that Chastel feared so much really meant. But what came after that? What did forever mean for one who was Shadow Born? If Samson wanted her by his side, would they be able to live a normal life? Have a family of their own? Could Valetta be accepted into his pack on equal terms? Would she ever be seen as an Arctic werewolf, or would Samson himself be cast out?

  With those questions racing around in her head, she knew she would never sleep. Sliding carefully out of Samson’s arms, she pulled on sweatpants, a warm sweater, and boots. Lifting the flap of the tent quietly so as not to disturb Samson, she stepped outside. The night was still and cold. There was enough Arctic werewolf in her to welcome the chilly air as she wandered away from the camp toward the shore.

  The nearby beach was pebbly and she took a seat on a large rock, gazing out at the moonlit waters. The noise of the waves disguised the sound of footsteps approaching and it was only when someone sat on the rock next to her that Valetta realized she wasn’t alone. Startled, she turned to face the other woman. Shock drove every thought out of her mind as she gazed at the familiar features.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Valetta nodded, tears springing to her eyes. “You’re my mother.”

  Teresa hadn’t changed. She looked just the same as she did in that single, wood-framed photograph Valetta had in her bedroom. Her beautiful features were sad as she gazed at Valetta, as though drinking in every detail of her daughter’s face.

  “I hoped you would find your way here one day, so that I would get a chance to explain.”

  “Couldn’t you have come to me instead of waiting for me to seek you out?” Even though the evidence was right here before her eyes, Valetta was having trouble believing this really was her mother sitting next to her in the moonlight. For all the world as though a mother-daughter chat on the beach was something they did every night.

  Teresa shook her head. “I didn’t choose to leave you and Hendrik. In every mortal sense, I really did die when you were born. This is my resting place. I can never leave Ulu.”

  Valetta felt the sharp sting of tears at the back of her eyelids. When she thought of her life growing up without a mother, she pictured a little girl and a father who loved her. Hendrik had tried so hard to make up for the gap in her life left by Teresa’s loss and, in many ways, he had succeeded. It was only now and then that Valetta had missed that relationship. Now she saw it from the other side. From the perspective of a mother who hadn’t died after all. The moonlight showed her Teresa’s eyes, so like her own. In them she could see twenty-three years’ worth of pain and grief of a mother mourning for her child.

  “You left me a letter saying you were a Shadow Wolf, but you didn’t tell me it all. Tell me now.”

  Teresa sighed and Valetta sensed her relief. Perhaps she had half expected to be sent away without an invitation to tell her story. “No one beyond this island has ever understood the truth about the Shadow Wolf. You went to the caves today and saw the paintings. They have been interpreted many different ways. Some of them even come close to reality, but none of them have yet uncovered it exactly.”

  “Because no one has linked them to the prophecy.”

  Teresa smiled. “I should have known you would make the connection.”

  “What is the prophecy?” Valetta thought she had an idea, but the exact wording would be helpful.

  “That the werewolf killer will be destroyed by a giant from the land of ice and snow.”

  Valetta thought of the cave painting depicting a huge Arctic werewolf rising up to face an evil man. It was straightforward enough. Chastel, the werewolf killer, would be destroyed by a giant Arctic werewolf . . . Samson. And the shadowy figure behind the werewolf in that prophetic painting? She already knew the answer to that, as well.

  “And my part in this prophecy is to protect Samson from Chastel, is that right?”

  “I see you have discovered much of your destiny. Let me start at the beginning.” Teresa gazed out to sea for long minutes as though gathering her thoughts. “This island has always harbored magic and mystery. Way back in the mists of time, there were wolves here and one became the familiar of the most powerful shaman of them all. That wolf was the Shadow Wolf.”

  “Our ancestor?”

  Teresa nodded. “I suppose so. But there were opposing magic forces on this island. The shaman had an enemy, a sorceress who was determined that evil should prevail. You spoke of Chastel.”

  Valetta nodded. “Jean Chastel, the werewolf killer.”

  “Then you will already know that Chastel gained his powers from that sorceress. His hatred of wolves stemmed from the rogue wolves that plagued Ulu during his early years, including a werewolf that stalked the island. Those werewolves were unique in their style of attack. They crushed the heads of their victims.”

  “But the story is that it is the Shadow Wolf that crushes its victim’s head,” Valetta said.

  “That’s because it is Chastel who has controlled the legend about the Shadow Wolf.” Teresa turned fully to face her daughter. “Don’t you see? He has always known that he is to die at the hand of an Arctic werewolf. He also knew that the shaman vowed to send her own wolf familiar to protect the giant who would kill him. It has always been in Chastel’s interests to hunt down and harm both the Shadow Wolf and the Arctic werewolves.”

  “Go back a step.” Valetta picked up the snippet of information from the middle of what Teresa had just said. “The shaman sent her own wolf familiar to protect the Arctic werewolf who was to kill Chastel?”

  “Yes. There has only ever been one Shadow Wolf, Valetta. The legends, the stories, anything you may have heard . . . it is all untrue. All of it invented by Chastel to discredit the Shadow Wolf.”

  Valetta’s mind was reeling under the weight of that piece of information. She sat in stunned silence for several minutes. “So you were the shaman’s wolf familiar?”

  “I was.” Teresa’s smile was hauntingly sad. “I am.”

  “What about the Beast of Gévaudan? It was said to be a rogue Shadow Wolf.”

  “The Beast of Gévaudan was a normal wolf upon which Chastel cast a spell. Inspired by the rogue wolves that plagued this island during his boyhood, he created a monster that crushed the head of its victim. By pretending that this creature was a Shadow Wolf, he was able to keep the myth alive that the Shadow Wolf was a foul beast bent on destruction. He was also able to enhance his own reputation as the greatest werewolf hunter ever to have lived.”

  “So that’s why he was able to kill the beast. And that’s why he allowed the body to be destroyed. If it had been examined by scientists, they’d have known it was an ordinary wolf.” Valetta shook her head in disbelief. “And the Shadow Born? The stories about the cubs of the Shadow Wolf and the damage they could do?”

  “All part of Chastel’s attempts to ensure other werewolves would regard a Shadow Wolf with fear and mistrust. That way, if ever they suspected I was among them, they would cast me out instantly or kill me on sight,” Teresa explained.

  Valetta was still struggling to come to terms with what she was hearing. “I still don’t understand where I come into this. If you were the one sent by the shaman to protect Samson, why did you need to marry my father and give birth to me?”

  “Because my powers are not strong enough for me to confront Chastel. In that sense, the legend is true. You have power beyond anything I can wield.”

  “Chastel believes I can destroy the entire Arctic species.” Valetta’s whole body tensed at the thought. “He wants to use me to wipe them all out.”

  “You do have that ability, but you were born to protect, not harm.”

  Valetta shook her head. “I was put here on this earth to care for Samson?”

  Teresa reached out a hand and covered Valetta’s fingers with her own. “You were put here on this earth to be your
own unique self. Samson Lee is a very lucky man because one of the roles you are to fulfill during your life is to protect him. But your identity is not tied up in him, nor is it tied up in me. You are Valetta, and she is wonderful.”

  Valetta covered the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her mother. For a long time, they sat together in an embrace that they had never known, but both had missed.

  “Will I be able to come and see you again?” Valetta asked when Teresa finally rose and regretfully moved away. “I need to tell you what happens with Chastel.”

  “Ulu will be here when you need it. I am part of Ulu, so you will always find me here.”

  Valetta watched the slender figure blend into the darkness. She stayed where she was, sitting on the rock in the darkness, replaying the conversation in her mind. How much would she tell Samson? It would be difficult to explain that he had a made-to-order lover. She might just leave that bit out of any conversations about the Shadow Wolf and her mother. It was also going to be a tricky chat with her father. Maybe it was just as well he had Cindy in his life now.

  When a movement on the periphery of her vision caught her eye, she thought at first that Teresa had come back. Turning her head, she saw Fergus walking toward her. She frowned. He looked different. Purposeful. Confident. Evil. He carried something in his hand that shimmered in the moonlight. Of course. She really should have guessed why he was so interested in her.

  “Hello, Chastel. I suppose I should have been expecting you.”

  Samson woke as the dawn light shone through the tent canopy. He experienced a feeling of well-being as the events of the previous night came back to him. This quickly dissipated as he discovered that Valetta was missing. It was early and she should have still been here in his arms. He needed her here in his arms.

  Deciding she must have answered a call of nature, he lay back with his hands behind his head, waiting for her to return. After some time, when there was no sign of her, he pulled on his clothes and emerged from the tent into the gray dawn, blinking as he looked around. Early as it was, the day looked set to be fine and sunny and Samson stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. It was a very long time since he had woken with such a sense of happiness. And there was only one reason for it. Valetta.

  He felt ready to have that long overdue conversation with her about how much he loved her, although after they had mated as wolves he suspected she might already know. He wanted to reassure her that this was forever. No matter what the future held for them, they would face it side by side. The fact that she was Shadow Born didn’t matter. Valetta was his mate, he was proud to claim her as such, proud to tell the world she was his. Now, where the hell was she?

  He was just about to walk around the perimeter of the camp in search of her, when Lowell emerged from his own tent, clearly having just struggled into his clothes, with his hair standing up in every direction. Seeing Samson, he hurried over to him.

  “We have a problem.” Lowell held up his phone. “I don’t know how the hell I got a signal out here, but I just got an email from Fergus Campbell’s address at the Museum of Natural History. It told me that his email address isn’t monitored regularly, which is why I haven’t had a reply to my request for help until now.”

  Samson frowned, the remnants of sleep still clinging to his brain. “But Fergus is here.”

  “No he’s not.” Lowell shook his head. “Fergus Campbell was murdered five days ago.”

  “Fuck! It’s Chastel and he’s got Valetta.” Samson exploded into action. “Get everybody up now. We need to find out if they’re still on the island.”

  Once everyone was assembled, Samson quickly briefed them on what had happened. Emvin listened in shock. “I’d never met Fergus Campbell, but we’d spoken a few times and emailed. I can’t believe that was an impostor.”

  “That wasn’t just any impostor. That was the great Jean Chastel,” Lowell told him.

  Emvin’s jaw dropped. “But . . . why was he here?”

  “If we let you in on a little secret, do you promise not to tell?”

  Emvin’s gaze wandered around the group, his eyes growing wider. “Aw, shit. You’re all werewolves.”

  “You can leave now if you choose.” Samson jerked a thumb in the direction of the dock. “Wait it out on the boat.”

  Emvin’s eyes sparkled. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been studying werewolves all my life. Now I get to see some real action up close, you think I’m going to skulk away and hide?”

  Lowell laughed. “Just don’t get too close, especially if Chastel is around.”

  Samson gave his orders to the others. “Split up and shift. This island is small enough for us to be able to search the perimeter between us.” He hesitated. “I don’t know how much Chastel knows about us, but remember . . . we no longer have the protection of the midnight sun. When the goddess Angrboda gave us the power to shift without its unique light, she also took away our invincibility. Chastel may not know that. He may believe that we are like all other Arctic werewolves and can only be killed by the light of the midnight sun, but we know it’s not true. We may be the seven strongest and bravest, but we have to watch out for each other. Now more than ever.”

  Under Emvin’s fascinated gaze, the brotherhood members stripped off their clothes and shifted. Seven powerful wolves with thick white fur, huge fangs, and lethal claws dropped onto all fours. One, the female, was leaner and shorter than the six males, but she was still an impressive sight. Golden eyes scanned the island’s coast, and keen nostrils sniffed the sea air before they set off at a run, their easy, loping strides eating up the miles.

  Sometime later, they regrouped, shifting back and donning their clothes again. “Anything?” Samson asked.

  “I found a place up at the north of the island where it is impossible to follow the coast all the way around. It’s almost as if there’s an invisible force field,” Vigo said. “We know Chastel is capable of using magic, so I’d say it’s possible that’s where his hideout is.”

  “Or, knowing Chastel, he’s long gone and that’s some sort of trap or another of his mind games.” Samson turned away from the group, walking toward the cliff edge.

  He couldn’t think beyond the image of Valetta in the bounty hunter’s clutches. Chastel had her in his power and he would use all his strength and magic to get her to do what he wanted. Chastel would hurt her, torture her, cause her any amount of suffering . . . And I let this happen. I was meant to be the one protecting her. I was leading this mission. I failed the woman I love. Just like I failed Anna all those years ago.

  A hand came down on his shoulder and he turned to face Wilder. “This is the hardest part.”

  For the first time in his life Samson wanted to punch his friend in the face. “What is?” He managed to get the words out with a semblance of normality.

  “When you think you’ve failed, the hardest part is picking yourself back up and telling everyone else what to do next.”

  Samson shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.” There he’d said it. He’d admitted he was a useless failure. Now Wilder could step in, take over, and save the day.

  “It’ll come to you. This is your mission. We’re all counting on you, and Valetta needs you.”

  Those words clinched it: Valetta needs you. “Give me a minute.”

  Wilder nodded and walked away. Samson looked out at the view with unseeing eyes, weighing up his options. They were fighting a man with magical powers. Six months ago we took on a god. We won that one. This time he was fighting for his whole future. He hunched a shoulder. For the first time in forever he had a future. Chastel could harm Valetta if the brotherhood attacked. He could harm her anyway. Am I seriously contemplating not steaming in and rescuing her from his clutches? Chastel was an evil bastard and the world would be a better place without him. There was no counterargument to that.

  But how would they break through this invisible barrier he had put up around himself? If, indeed, he was there at all? There w
as only one way to find out.

  Striding back to the group, he nodded determinedly at Vigo. “Take us to where you encountered this barrier.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Valetta was cold, tired, and thirsty. Chastel had stopped short of beating her senseless, although he had come close several times when she refused to behave like a performing monkey at his command. She knew he had refrained from harming her too badly because he feared her power. She could see it in his eyes, and the knowledge brought her a measure of relief. The fact that she had no idea what power she had, or how to use it, wasn’t helpful, but she saw no need to mention that to Chastel. Did he seriously think she would still be sitting here if she knew how to use her Shadow Born ability? She had this hold over him and she was determined to use it to its fullest advantage.

  When he had approached her on the beach, Chastel—still in his guise as Fergus Campbell—had conjured up a shimmering web and draped it over her. It had held her imprisoned so that he was able to drag her along with him. The experience had been the most humiliating of her life. She remained trapped within its glittering mesh like a giant fish trapped in Chastel’s net. She wasn’t sure what it was made of. It wasn’t silver because it didn’t have that awful burning verdigris stench and she could touch it without hurting her flesh. When she pressed her hands against the strands, they bulged outward, but didn’t allow her to escape. Chastel, on the other hand, could put his hands through from the other side and touch her, stroke her cheek, wrap his hands around her throat, and bend her fingers back until she thought they might snap.

  Inside this magical prison net, he had hauled her almost the full length of the island. She had to give the man his due; he barely broke a sweat while he was doing it. Smug bastard. Now they were in some sort of semi-ruined building. It was almost an old castle and there were dozens of Chastel’s followers gathered within its walls. The Hellhounds were here in force and it looked like they were planning a big party.

  Konrad stopped by to gloat at her downfall. “I see Chastel hasn’t got around to changing you back yet.” Valetta smiled sweetly into his cold yellow eyes. “So when I destroy the werewolves, you’ll be top of my list.”