by Laura Taylor
“I didn’t mean to trespass,” she said to the dominant female, cutting to the chase. “I was in town when the Noturatii showed up. I had to run away, and ended up here. I’m not even sure exactly where here is, but I assure you, I meant no offence.” It was an effort to refer to herself as ‘I’ instead of ‘we’, as had become her firm habit, but Baron had told her often enough that most shifters were a single, cohesive unit, and given her enough warnings about the Grey Watch to make her think it would be a bad idea to admit to her unusual condition.
Though, now that she thought about it, he’d never mentioned exactly why the Grey Watch were to be avoided. Given all the weirdness that routinely went on around the estate, she had a hard time believing that Baron was simply reacting to rumour and superstition. But the lack of details was disconcerting.
“You’re from Il Trosa?”
“Yes,” Dee admitted without hesitation. “I joined them last autumn.”
The two other wolves had so far remained in their animal form, but one of them shifted now, looked Dee over, and said something to the leader in a language Dee didn’t understand. The leader merely shook her head.
“A new recruit?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“And yet you’re already a wolf. My understanding was that Il Trosa did not convert their newlings so quickly.”
Dee hesitated, wondering how much she should tell them. Her gut feeling was that honesty was her best policy, knowing that wolves were rather adept at detecting lies. “I was kidnapped by the Noturatii and converted in one of their labs. Il Trosa took me in after I escaped. They’ve been training me since then, but yes, I suppose I’m still rather new.”
The second shifter said something else, and the leader nodded. “And what were you doing just now?”
“Hunting for rabbits. I figured I’d be here for the night, and I was hungry…” Were they about to punish her for hunting in their territory?
“Are you alone?”
Dee hesitated. Answering that question, either truthfully or with a lie, could be equally dangerous. “Yes.”
The woman stared at her intently, as if trying to weigh the truth of her words. “You cannot be allowed to wander the forest alone,” she said finally. “Whatever your intentions were before, you’ll have to come with us. You’ll spend the night in our camp. But be warned,” she snapped, pointing her knife at Dee. “We are many, and we are fierce. We will not tolerate being toyed with.”
Dee nodded obediently. It was actually a relief of sorts to have met them. Okay, so being ‘escorted’ to their camp held a lot of risks in itself. But at least this way, if the Noturatii did manage to track her, she’d have help to fight them off. And Faeydir seemed happy with the outcome, eagerly shifting back into wolf form to follow the woman through the forest. It was a situation fraught with unknowns, a thousand potential mistakes and missteps waiting for her, but it was far from the worst situation Dee had ever been in.
She only hoped that come morning, Faeydir would see sense and agree to leave.
And that the Grey Watch would let her.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Nine wolves had gathered out the front of the manor, and Baron was well aware he was putting more than half his Den at risk with this ‘rescue’ attempt. And if it all went south… goodbye Den. “Phones on silent,” he instructed everyone. “If the Noturatii show up, avoid them at all costs. If they’ve managed to take down Tank and Silas, they mean business.”
“Movement at the gate!” John hissed suddenly, sending all nine shifters scattering for cover. Andre, Baron and Caroline all had guns, while the rest of them were reliant on close contact fighting skills. Baron felt his heart race as a host of worst case scenarios flashed through his mind. If the Noturatii had captured Dee… she was no warrior. If they tortured her for information, there was no telling what she’d reveal.
A shadow moved at the gate again, nine pairs of eyes fixed on the spot, and there was a shuffling sound, a grunt, and then a wolf was running towards them, a dark blur against the night.
“It’s Silas!” Baron couldn’t have said who made the call, but a moment later his own eyes confirmed it, and he was out of cover, dashing towards the bloodied and exhausted wolf, catching him as he collapsed on the drive.
“What the fuck happened out there? Where are Tank and Dee?”
It took Silas a moment to manage a shift, and then a longer one before he could speak. He’d been shot, in both human and wolf form, though it looked like neither wound was fatal.
“Noturatii,” he gasped out, confirming Baron’s fears. “At the clinic. Dee ran off.”
“And Tank?” If he wasn’t with Silas, then… had they killed him? His loss would leave a gaping hole in the Den-
“The Noturatii took him.”
A whole chorus of curses filled the night, and Baron was fairly sure he heard a few choice words in Italian from Andre.
“I got away, killed a few of the bastards,” Silas went on, when he’d caught his breath a little. “But they tailed me in the van. I ditched it. You have to burn it. They’ll have bugged it or planted a bomb in it. Find Dee. She’s out there on her own.”
“That’ll do,” Baron told him, helping him to his feet. “Caroline, get him inside. And forget the van. The Noturatii will be watching it. You’ll just get yourselves killed. Andre, Mark, John. Ready to go?”
“What about Tank?” The obvious question came from John.
Baron glanced at Andre, who looked impassive as always. Rather than his suit, he was dressed for fighting this evening, wearing camo trousers and combat boots, and a trench coat that no doubt covered a multitude of weapons.
“There’s nothing we can do for Tank right now. Let’s see if we can get Dee back. Then we’ll figure out what the fuck we do about Tank tomorrow.”
Dee wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the Grey Watch camp. Baron’s stories had depicted a people who loathed all human comforts, so she thought maybe it would be nothing more than a wolf den, a few bags of food and equipment scattered around a clearing that was otherwise devoid of human habitation.
So it was a pleasant surprise to find herself being led into a large clearing with a roaring fire and a wide tent, white cloth covering the walls. Wolves loitered around the clearing, each of them taking a keen interest in her when she arrived, but with the Watch leader as her escort, none of them made any move towards her.
She was led straight into the tent and was relieved to find an array of cushions and pillows spread out, a few wooden boxes containing tools and weapons laid out against one wall, a low table holding trays of food – nuts, dates, dried fruit. She still expected to spend the night in wolf form, if for no other reason than that Faeydir would be offended if she didn’t, but the sight of a few human comforts was enticing.
The leader shifted into human form, and Dee followed suit. “My name is Sempre-Ul,” the woman said. “And you are?”
“Dee Carman.”
Sempre-Ul snarled. “Such a human name,” she muttered. “Wait here.”
She strode from the tent, confidence and authority in her stride, but the other two shifters remained with her, both in wolf form, and Dee supposed it wasn’t unreasonable for them to leave her with a guard. She eyed the cushions, but decided against sitting down. So far, her welcome had been none too warm, and it might not be a good idea to make herself too comfortable.
Genna had watched the newcomer arrive, her skin itching as she suppressed the urge to shift. She’d been in wolf form for three full days now, and the need to shift was getting harder to ignore.
Rintur had lectured her at length on these urges – Genna’s perceived need to shift at least once a day – and had expressed her disgust at Genna’s reluctance to remain in wolf form all the time. The Grey Watch embraced their wild nature, she’d said repeatedly. The wolf was stronger, able to hear more, to smell more, and the far more capable side of their nature, and if Genna was ever to carve out a place amongst the Wat
ch, she had to learn to suppress her human side.
Grey Watch rules on such things were strict and unyielding. She’d been harassed and derided repeatedly after finally arriving at the camp on her first night after a hellish run through the forest, her back legs bleeding, her lungs burning as she’d burst into the camp only minutes before dawn.
But she’d made it, had become a fully-fledged member of the Watch… only to realise that her trials were only just beginning.
She’d had to fight for food, every scrap a coveted prize by those stronger and more experienced than her. She’d been insulted when she’d tried to spend the first night in human form, laughed at and kicked out of the camp to sleep in the snow, alone. She’d been bullied and intimidated and belittled at every turn, and she’d learned to survive by simply keeping her head down and avoiding anyone’s attention. It was a far cry from the life she’d imagined when Sempre had first told her of the magic of the shape shifters and the wonders of a life as a member of the Watch.
And now, here was this stranger – a member of Il Trosa, Genna guessed, as she’d never seen the female before – being led straight into the tent that Watch members were only permitted to use one night each month, and allowed to wait in human form while Sempre set about deciding what to do with her.
Genna crept closer to the tent, curious about the woman inside and resenting her easy acceptance of her human side. The Watch had little respect for those who didn’t wholeheartedly embrace their wolf, and she was pained to admit that she was more than a little curious about Il Trosa. Shifters, like herself, but with an entirely different set of rules.
The senior wolves had warned her about them often enough, about the way they tried to keep one foot in two different worlds, about their indulgent use of technology, their denial of many of the shifter magics.
The woman in the tent looked nervous, dressed warmly as if she expected to spend time outdoors in human form, and she was on the small side, short and none too muscular. Genna carried more muscle than her, the rigours of daily life keeping her body fit and lean.
Satisfied that this woman was no more special than she herself was, Genna slunk away, heading for the tight circle of elders surrounding Sempre and eavesdropping on their conversation. Who the hell was this wandering female, and what was Sempre going to do about her?
“…unusual for a shifter so recently converted,” Sempre was saying, as the three other senior females hung on her every word. “She found a den to spend the night, then went hunting for rabbits. She was in wolf form, behaving as a wolf, thinking as a wolf, but if what she says is true, she was converted only three or four months ago. There’s no way she could have learned all that by now.”
“Remarkable,” one of the women said. “Do you think Il Trosa has some new training method?”
“Not likely,” another woman snorted. “They’re all about cosseting their newlings, handing life to them on a silver platter. There’s no way their training could make a human embrace their wolf side this quickly.”
“Nonetheless, her abilities deserve some attention,” Sempre said. “As well as this story about the Noturatii. I highly doubt someone like her could have fought them off on her own, so she must have had help.”
“But you said she came here alone.”
“Or so she claims. Lita,” Sempre said, turning to the oldest woman in the group. “Could you track the others? And these Noturatii operatives?”
“With the girl’s cooperation, yes,” Lita replied. “The ceremony might worry her, so she’ll need to be persuaded.”
“Consider it done.”
“And what about in the morning?” someone else said. “We’re not just going to let her leave?”
Sempre smiled, an expression that Genna had come to fear. “Of course not. She’s a liability. If nothing else, she could lead the Noturatii right here. And we don’t have enough camps left to give up another one. But maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Lita prompted, when Sempre didn’t continue.
“She’s got some skills as a wolf,” Sempre said thoughtfully. “And she seems comfortable enough making a go of it in the wild as one.”
The other women looked astonished. “You’re thinking of recruiting her?”
“She’s only been with Il Trosa for a few months. And they have enough restrictions that she might be feeling a little chaffed by it all. So if we paint a rosy picture, there’s a good chance she might see reason and join us. It’s not like we’re spoilt for choice as to our new recruits.”
Not spoilt for choice? Meaning they’d settled for Genna, rather than deliberately choosing her. Genna slunk away, not liking the direction of the conversation. She’d done everything they’d demanded of her, fought, run, survived, denied her human half, and still she was treated as an afterthought, a nuisance necessary to boost their numbers, but nothing more.
She crept away into the darkness, glaring at the tent where the newcomer waited. Such insults were not to be borne. And the moment she had the opportunity to prove to them that this woman was nothing more than a thorn in their sides, she would leap at the chance.
The tent flap was pushed aside, and Dee sighed with relief as an ageing woman limped inside, Sempre on her heels. The older woman was holding a bowl of stew and a thick slice of bread, and Dee accepted them both politely.
“I’m Lita,” the woman said with a smile, reminding Dee of Heron. “You must be hungry.”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Here, sit. Make yourself comfortable.”
The woman slowly eased herself down onto the cushions, and Dee sat beside her, conscious of Sempre lingering nearby, but her two guards disappeared at a nod from the leader, leaving the three of them alone.
“You’ll have to excuse the rather abrupt welcome,” Lita went on. “We don’t mean to be rude, but with things the way they are, we can’t be too careful. Sempre tells me you had a run-in with the Noturatii?”
Dee nodded, and between bites of the stew – which was delicious – she told them of the encounter in the town, the visit to the doctor, and the way the Noturatii had shown up out of the blue. It was only fair, she supposed, to warn them of the Noturatii’s activities. Despite their differences, Baron and Caroline had agreed that Il Trosa and the Grey Watch were equal enemies against the Noturatii, and the enemy of my enemy…?
“My, my,” Lita said when she finished the story. “And two of your comrades were with you? Neither of them came with you into the forest?”
Her tone was concerned, but Dee suspected that she was fishing for information just as much as trying to be comforting. “They were still fighting the Noturatii when I left,” she admitted. “I don’t know what happened to them.”
“Ah, well then, you’re in luck,” Lita said, brightening suddenly. “Il Trosa isn’t known for being particularly liberal with its rules, but you must have realised that there’s more magic to the shifters than just the ability to shift. Some of us have particular abilities.”
Dee nodded, thinking of Caroline and her ability to force a shift. “I’m familiar with the idea.”
“Well then, let me help you. We don’t deal much in technology out here, but we still have a few ways we can track people, keep tabs on what’s going on around us. There’s a ritual I could perform for you. It would require a small sample of your blood… Oh heavens, I’m sorry. You are aware that we sometimes perform blood rituals, aren’t you?”
Dee nodded again. “I know. I’ve seen a few.” The ritual to discover her sire was vivid in her mind, along with the knowledge that shifters were converted by exchanging blood. Shifter blood seemed to contain a particular magic all its own, so while she was by no means looking forward to another ritual, the idea wasn’t too frightening. “How much blood?”
“Just a few drips. A small nick with a knife, and it’s all over.”
“I suppose I could manage that,” she said cooperatively. “But why do you need my blood?”
“I need to retrace your pat
h through the forest to the town, then I can focus on the other shifters with you and see what happened to them. If they’re injured or in trouble, we need to know. And the only way I can focus on your energy is by channelling the magic through your blood.”
That sounded reasonable enough. It was certainly no stranger than the idea of finding out whether her sire was still alive by burning her blood, and Heron had done that easily enough. “Okay. I’ll help.”
Lita smiled again. “Okay, my dear. Give me a few minutes to get set up, and then we’ll call you outside.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Baron was on full alert as he pulled the van up in the clinic parking lot. It was deserted, the faint glow from the distant street lights barely penetrating the darkness of the clinic’s imposing building.
Andre was out of the van first, scanning the area for the faintest hint of trouble. Baron wasn’t far behind, pride firmly leashed as he allowed the more experienced and better trained shifter to take point. For all that he’d love to go a couple of rounds with the guy on the manor lawn, right now getting Dee back was his only priority, and if Andre was their best hope of achieving that, then so be it.
The parking lot was clear, with no evidence of a fight, no tell-tale clues to give them a direction.
“Silas said Dee ran off on foot. So we should be able to track her by scent,” Andre said, and it was hard to tell if it was a suggestion or an order.
“You’re suggesting one of us shifts?” It broke almost every rule of Il Trosa, and even if it was the most pragmatic idea, Baron was more than a little startled by it, coming from one of the Council’s best and brightest.
Andre took a slow breath, contemplating the situation. “It’s night. The streets are mostly deserted. Someone can shift inside the van, and then we’re simply out walking a dog. It’s certainly bending the rules,” he added, seeing Baron’s consternation. “But there’s nothing illegal about walking your dog at night.”
