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

by Jane Godman

  His face fell and, muttering an unflattering comment, he stormed away. Valetta sat very still, tucking her knees up to her chin and watching the activity around her without really seeing it. She was the bait. Chastel was putting on a show for his Hellhound buddies, while using her to draw the brotherhood into a trap so he could kill them. There was only one person he really wanted, the other six were incidental. Once he had killed Samson—the giant Arctic werewolf of the shaman’s prophecy—he would be free to use Valetta’s powers to wipe out the whole Arctic species. Then, having destroyed the ones he feared most, he could wipe out the other werewolves.

  Valetta could tell she was a disappointment to the Hellhounds. They had expected more from Chastel’s great Shadow Born conquest than this. He had placed her on display between two columns at one end of a central hall and the Hellhounds were walking past, studying her as if she were an art exhibit. They were a mismatched group. Some of them were the typical werewolf geeks Emvin had described. Clearly at some point they had made the transition from online chat rooms to real-life werewolf hunting. They looked like it scared the shit out of them. Others had a fanatical light in their eyes that shone brighter when they looked at Valetta. A few looked like ordinary, wouldn’t-look-at-them-twice sort of people. Valetta decided they were the most dangerous. A surprising number were women.

  “She looks like a gust of wind would blow her away.” It was a woman who spoke now, as a group stood around viewing Valetta with obvious disenchantment.

  “The leader likes his jokes. Maybe the real Shadow Born is hidden away somewhere, waiting to make an appearance later?” Valetta was getting annoyed. They were distracting her from her thoughts. If they started prodding her with sticks, she’d rip their hands off.

  “What do you reckon this is made of?” One of them indicated the glowing web.

  “Maybe it’s quicksilver combined with a bit of the leader’s own unique sorcery?” A tall, thin man who looked like he might be allergic to daylight offered the suggestion. “It wouldn’t take much to hold an insipid creature like that.”

  As they walked away, Valetta felt her temper flare. Insipid? You try looking badass after no sleep and being dragged on your butt all the way across a rocky island . . . She pressed an internal pause button midway through that thought. Was it her imagination, or was something happening? The web around her appeared to be pulsing, glowing brighter in time with her anger. Reaching inside herself, she drew on the reserves of rage she had been storing up toward Chastel. Picturing Axel’s tortured face before he turned that knife on himself wasn’t difficult. It was an image that was never far from her thoughts. It made her fury burn out of control.

  No, it wasn’t her imagination. The strands holding the web together almost sizzled in time with her temper. Valetta wondered how far she could push this? Could she make the net holding her captive burn up completely? She decided she probably could, but she reasoned that it would be best to wait until the time was right. There was no point giving Chastel a chance to come up with a more effective way to imprison her. Let him believe his plan, and this web, was working . . . for now.

  A buzz of excitement was thrumming around the building and the Hellhounds were clustering together in the center of the hall. Chastel, a surprisingly insignificant-looking man now that he was no longer disguised as Fergus Campbell, clapped his hands together.

  “The Arctic werewolves are on their way.” He stepped closer to Valetta, his eyes narrowing to venomous slits. “You had better start remembering how to use your Shadow Born powers.”

  She returned his stare without flinching. “You seem to have forgotten which side I’m on.”

  “I thought you might say something predictable like that. So I brought along a little incentive.” Chastel beckoned to Konrad, who was standing nearby, and the other man hurried away to do his bidding. When he returned a few minutes later, he dragged Hendrik and Cindy with him. They were shackled together by a chain around their ankles and both had clearly been beaten.

  “You are going to die, Chastel.” Valetta had to work hard at keeping her rage under control so she didn’t fry the net to ashes there and then. Why use up her party trick before the party had even started?

  “Wrong answer.” Chastel signaled to Konrad and, with a smile of unholy glee, the other man grabbed Cindy by her hair. Drawing her toward him as though for a kiss, he slapped her face hard, first across one side, then across the other. When Hendrik moved forward to intervene, Konrad elbowed him hard in the windpipe. Valetta watched in anguish as her father dropped to his knees, struggling for breath. There was nothing he could do. Without the midnight sun, Hendrik was unable to shift.

  “I will do as you ask,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on her father, willing him to be okay.

  “I thought you might.” Valetta could hear the note of triumph in Chastel’s voice, but she refused to look up and see it in his eyes as well.

  Samson strode across the island at the head of the brotherhood, anger at Chastel and fear for Valetta lengthening his strides. When they reached the area Vigo had indicated, they halted.

  He called Vigo forward. “Show me.”

  They were at the edge of the cliff, having followed the coastline to reach this northernmost point. Emvin, who they had left at the camp, had told them that beyond this headland were the ruins of an ancient fortress, supposedly once the home of a great sorceress who reigned over Ulu for centuries.

  “Here.” Vigo drew Samson forward. Holding out his hands, Vigo pushed forward. His hands flattened abruptly when they could go no farther. It was as if there was an invisible wall across the cliff top, an impenetrable barrier beyond which they couldn’t pass. Samson copied his actions, encountering the same solid, but unseen, barrier.

  “Fuck.” Samson considered their options. They couldn’t see how far across the headland this obstruction extended. He had a feeling it would be all the way from one side of the land to the other. Another choice would be to climb down the cliff on this side of the barrier and up it again on the other side. He couldn’t believe, however, that anyone who had gone to the trouble of putting up this boundary wouldn’t have thought of that. He imagined there would be some sort of obstacle ahead to prevent them climbing back up the cliff. Some sort of unpleasant, Chastel-related obstacle. Finally, they could go back to their camp, board the boat, and sail around to this part of the island. But the same argument applied. Whoever had put up this barrier—Face it, Chastel put up this barrier—wasn’t going to allow them to approach from the sea. Not without a fight.

  A fight is what we’re here for. We just need to get at the devious bastard.

  When the brotherhood was together, they could communicate telepathically and Samson could see the nods of approval as he shared his thoughts. There would be no arguments from his brotherhood members about a fight. When they finally came face-to-face with Chastel, the bounty hunter would meet with seven Arctic werewolves who were all equally desperate to rip out his throat.

  Samson reached out a hand to test the barrier again . . . but it wasn’t there. Like a medieval drawbridge, it had been raised to allow them to pass.

  “He’s expecting us.” Samson lifted his hand, beckoning his team to follow.

  As he crossed the point where the invisible boundary had been, Samson was half-expecting a trap. He knew Chastel’s plan would be to lure them to him so he could destroy them.

  Not if we see you first.

  The problem was, they had never seen Chastel. Apart from a grainy photograph Lowell had shown him, Samson had no idea what the man he was seeking looked like.

  The headland was dominated by a fortress. This structure was part ruin, although its outer walls were intact. With cliffs on three sides, it appeared to soar out over the surrounding ocean. This place must once have been the most commanding point on the island, facing out to view the rest of the world. Why Ulu? Samson pondered the question as he made his way toward the ruined building. Why would a powerful sorceress choose th
is remote, end-of-the world island as her base?

  Samson didn’t do subterfuge. Sneaking up on Chastel, waiting until nightfall, scaling the walls and dropping in unannounced . . . None of those things was going to happen while he was in charge. He turned to the other members of the brotherhood. “I want to walk in there and face him.”

  Wilder nodded. “I agree. Let’s look him in the eye.”

  Samson looked around and saw the same support on the faces of the rest of the team. They were telling him loud and clear what he needed to know. He was their leader and they were behind him. His chest tightened. He had come a long way from doubting he could do this. Now he knew he could, and he was eager to get on with it.

  They left their shoes and outer clothing outside the walls of the fortress, marching in through the huge arched doorway in a half-naked group. Samson knew they looked impressive. As they paused just inside a central hall, he took in the scene. His eyes were drawn immediately to Valetta and fury pounded through him.

  You put her in a net?

  Whatever it was that Chastel had used to ensnare Valetta, the web around her glowed with a silvery light. Valetta had been sitting hunched over, with her knees drawn up beneath her chin, but when she saw Samson, she rose onto her knees. Her expression lightened and she stretched out her hands toward him, testing the material of the strands imprisoning her with her fingertips. Across the distance between them, he saw her expression soften. He saw everything he needed to know in her eyes. She loved him as much as he loved her. The final layer of ice around his heart melted away.

  He wanted to crash across the distance between them and slash through the web around her with his bare hands. Caution didn’t come easily to Samson, but he was forced to breathe deeply and exert it now. If anyone could break out of that net, it would be his feisty Valetta. The fact that she hadn’t meant it couldn’t be done. At least not easily. For now, however much it hurt, he needed to leave her there while he dealt with Chastel.

  His gaze swept the room, taking in Konrad, who had a grip on the arms of both Hendrik and Cindy. So Chastel had brought them along as insurance to guarantee Valetta’s compliance? Cowardly bastard.

  Speaking of cowardly bastards . . . where was he? There were dozens of people in the room. Samson scanned their faces, seeking Chastel. The famous bounty hunter, the man who had slain the Beast of Gévaudan, the hero who sought to destroy all Arctic werewolves. He should stand out in a crowd. There was just one problem.

  Every single person in this room was a man and they all looked identical.

  Valetta gazed in confusion at the Hellhounds. What had Chastel done to them? Just before Samson stepped into the hall, Chastel had muttered a few words of a language Valetta didn’t understand. Instantly, every Hellhound had been transformed into a duplicate of Chastel. Same face, same clothing, same hateful smile. Chastel himself gave Valetta a friendly wave and hurried away to mingle with the crowd. She soon lost sight of who the real evil murdering bastard was while the other Hellhounds seemed oblivious to what was going on.

  When Samson strode through the high, arched doorway slightly ahead of the rest of the brotherhood team, her eyes were drawn to him to the exclusion of everyone else. Standing tall and proud, he made everyone else seem inferior. Maybe part of his impact on her was a result of her love for him, but to Valetta he really was a giant. Her silver-haired, golden-eyed warrior. Forgetting about the net enclosing her, she reached out her hands to him, but the magical strands kept her imprisoned. She saw him start impetuously toward her, then think better of it. He was right, of course. His job was to get Chastel out of the way. But she loved him all the more for that momentary impulse. That desire to put her first. If only they could find a way through this to a time when their relationship could be their first priority. Then maybe they could start again, get to know each other away from this mayhem. Rewind. Take their time. A wistful smile touched her lips. Whatever else this craziness had brought, she would never regret that it had brought her Samson.

  Valetta hated being an observer. Forced to watch as the brotherhood, the males clad in their boxer briefs and Jenny in sports bra and matching underwear, lined up along one wall. The Chastel-look-alike Hellhounds faced them. The situation was surreal, but all too real. Valetta knew she had a starring role to play in this drama, but so far no one had shared the script with her.

  Maybe she was biased, but, even outnumbered, the brotherhood was an impressive sight. Tall, powerful, and with a keen, hungry energy emanating from every pore, they thrummed with an urgency that signaled their desire to get the fuck on with this. Samson, the tallest, and Jenny, the shortest, were at each end of the line of the werewolf world’s peacekeeping force. Right at this moment, the last thing they looked was peaceful.

  Samson’s lip curled derisively as he surveyed the room. “Since he’s too cowardly to show himself, we’ll have to take them all.”

  It was the cue the brotherhood had been waiting for. When they shifted it was with a storm of power. There was an instantaneous change in the atmosphere. The air crackled with the intensity of it. Seven huge Arctic werewolves dropped to all fours in unison, baring dangerous fangs and showing razor-sharp claws that were perfectly designed to slice through skin and muscle. Valetta didn’t need to be a mind reader to sense the thoughts of the Hellhounds. There was a definite sense of What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? in the glances they exchanged. Although there was still no acknowledgment from any of them of the strange circumstance of their altered appearances.

  Chastel’s voice echoed around the hall, even though the man himself couldn’t be singled out among the crowd. “Don’t be afraid of them. On my orders the Shadow Born will destroy them.”

  Will I? Valetta had promised to do as Chastel asked only because Konrad had his filthy hands on her father and Cindy. If they were safe, the situation would be very different. It would be her pleasure to show Chastel just how difficult it was to control the only Shadow Born werewolf in the world.

  Konrad. She would need to deal with him first. The Arctic werewolves launched themselves into the Hellhounds in a concerted blur of white fur, snarling teeth, and spraying blood. At the same time, Valetta focused her thoughts on Chastel’s right-hand man. Let’s see if we can get this Shadow born power working, maybe even do some good with it. Her anger, slow to ignite, soon began to simmer and reach boiling point. The web around her glowed brighter, the shimmering strands beginning to solidify and appear more like red-hot metal.

  She watched Konrad through narrowed eyes. Nothing was happening to him. He was half turned away from Hendrik and Cindy, watching events unfold as the Hellhounds started to fight back. So much for being Shadow Born. It doesn’t work. I can’t even get this right. Her frustration peaked and pooled into further anger. Konrad was Chastel’s tool. He had allowed the bounty hunter to abuse those young men, to torture and kill them for his own cruel purposes. Valetta felt hatred pour through her and flow in Konrad’s direction. As she glared at him, he raised a hand to his head as though swatting away an annoying fly. Then he dropped to the floor.

  The strands of net holding her blazed red and began to sizzle before snapping like overheated shards of metal. Wincing as glowing sparks showered around her, Valetta waited until it fell apart. Rising to her feet, she surveyed the chaotic scene around her.

  The Arctic werewolves were doing what they did best and tearing into the Hellhounds. They knew how to work in unison to get the best out of an attack and protect each other at the same time. Some of Chastel’s followers were armed with knives and guns, but the speed of the werewolf onslaught meant the humans didn’t have time to respond. Valetta watched the crowd carefully, hoping the real Chastel would give himself away, but she couldn’t see any sign of him in the melee.

  She made her way to Hendrik’s side. “Get Cindy out of here.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”

  She gave him a not-too-gentle shove. “You can’t shift. That makes you another
human, and vulnerable. Go to the south of the island. You’ll find a camp and a boat there. Wait it out with a man called Emvin.”

  Reluctantly, but with some encouragement from Cindy, who was understandably anxious to get away, Hendrik left. Valetta bent over Konrad. He was breathing, but only just. She was glad. There was something she wanted him to know before he died.

  Bunching her hand in the material of his shirt, she lifted him slightly so he could hear her. Ignoring the look of terror in his eyes, Valetta leaned closer. “Just so you know, there never was a Beast of Gévaudan. Chastel cast a spell on an ordinary wolf so he could enhance the legend of the Shadow Wolf and make himself look good. He tricked you and murdered your sister.”

  For the first time, she saw real emotion in Konrad’s yellow eyes. A flare of anger was swiftly followed by a look of sorrow. Then everything faded and he slumped back in her hold. Konrad was dead. She dropped him back down onto the ground. Although he had been duped by Chastel, she couldn’t find any pity in her heart for him. Konrad had enjoyed his role as Chastel’s henchman, and his own cruelty had been almost as extreme as his master’s.

  Looking around, Valetta decided she needed a better view. She made her way up a few crumbling steps to a point where she could look down on what was happening. The scene below was all movement and fury. She could tell which of the Arctic werewolves were Samson and Jenny because of the difference in their sizes. From her vantage point, Valetta was unclear about the identity of the other five. It didn’t matter. They were all doing an equally devastating job.

  The Hellhounds were scattering in panic as the werewolves tore into them. The white fur of the Arctic werewolves was stained red with blood and the bodies of the fallen humans were trampled underfoot. But where was Chastel? A movement on the periphery of her vision distracted her and she turned her head. A lone figure had detached himself from the main group and was sidling toward the exit. There was only one person who would be audacious enough to set this mayhem in motion and then cowardly enough to attempt to sneak away. She decided he must have watched her escape, seen her kill Konrad, and realized that he had no control over her.