by Laura Taylor
Andre was circling around, tense and agitated, and then his head snapped up, ears twitching. Baron turned to listen… and there! Howling! Not the calm, relaxed sound of wolves on a moonlit night, or the haunting ceremonial echo he was familiar with. This was the sound of wolves on the hunt. They were moving fast, working together, and with one of his pack mates out on her own in unfamiliar territory, Baron wasn’t inclined to stop and ask questions about what it was they were chasing. He barked sharply, then took off. John would have his back should he run into trouble, and Andre might stick with him… then again, he might go off and try some wolf-ninja shit, so Baron wasn’t taking anything for granted. But Mark would break off and follow Dee, fuck the Grey Watch, even if it led him straight into the lion’s mouth, so to speak. And since Baron was done with having his Den mates taken away, it took him only a split second to choose his course of action. He slowed minutely, let Mark take the lead, and then fell in behind him, a light yip letting Mark know that he was now running the show. As far as he could tell, Mark ignored him completely.
The trail led up a hill, through a stream, around a large boulder with a small cave etched out beneath it… and then a blood-chilling sound reached all their ears. In a split second, Mark had abandoned the scent trail in favour of following the much more urgent call.
Dee was struggling to keep up as Faeydir raced through the forest. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, taking sudden turns and leaping over obstacles at a speed that was making Dee dizzy. She could hear the howling behind her, the Grey Watch communicating with each other to keep track of her location and each other. And then she heard light footfalls beside her, glanced back and saw a huge grey wolf leap out of the undergrowth.
It was a female, Faeydir detected immediately. One of the older wolves in the pack, strong and experienced-
Teeth in her back leg, and Faeydir spun, lashed out and kicked the wolf in the face. But the move only slowed her pursuer for an instant, and then she was back, snapping at her heels, more wolves closing in from the right.
The human presence in this wolf was weak, Faeydir informed Dee without breaking stride. The Grey Watch spent so much time in wolf form, letting their wolves have such free rein that their human selves tended to have little control once the wolf was unleashed. It would be easy to…
Easy to what? Dee demanded, flinching as Faeydir was smacked in the face by a low branch.
Faeydir twisted, darted off to the side to buy them time, away from the gaining pack. An image appeared in her head of a human lying dead, a live wolf beside her.
Kill them?
The same image repeated itself, and Dee knew she was missing something important. But, as with the last time she’d been offered a life or death choice by this wolf, she was out of options. Do it, she agreed, implicitly trusting Faeydir to get them out of this mess.
She felt Faeydir reach out with some kind of psychic energy, felt the wolf and the human in their pursuer as two separate beings, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Dee to reach out with her mind, grab hold of the two distinct energies and yank…
A scream. It was impossible to tell whether it was wolf or human, but the creature on their tail broke off, lagged, and Faeydir used the opportunity to change course, leaping into a small stream and running along the bed for a short stretch, letting the water disguise her scent. It wouldn’t fool the Grey Watch for long, but it would buy them precious seconds to make good on an escape.
More howling behind her, and then a sound that Dee had never thought she would be so grateful to hear. A long, clear, echoing howl sounded through the forest. It was Baron, she was sure of it. Baron’s howl, one of the few Den howls she’d heard often enough to identify since, as a general rule, howling was forbidden, and oh, thank God, because that meant the Den had come for her.
Faeydir spun to a halt atop a fallen log. There were no pursuers in the immediate area, so she threw her head back and howled. She didn’t know if anyone would recognise the sound, but it was worth a try.
More howling, closer now, and Faeydir was off again, heading west, heading for home, however far away it might be.
Baron tried hard to keep up with Mark, but a deep pocket of undergrowth swallowed the wolf. When he emerged on the other side, Mark was nowhere to be seen. Baron’s nose was instantly on the ground, following the scent, John behind him, and what do you know, Andre was right there, off to the right, keeping up while no doubt doing some of his ‘special training’ shit, like plotting the trajectory of each wolf and triangulating Dee’s position – assuming it was still Dee they were chasing, of course. Long hours had passed since she’d disappeared from the medical clinic, and God knew what had happened in the intervening time…
A howl. He knew that sound. And so did Mark, it seemed, as a sudden crashing sound in the undergrowth signalled the wolf changing direction suddenly. Baron took off in the direction of the sound, running flat out to try and catch up. They were closing in on the Grey Watch, and should there be a confrontation, Il Trosa well out of their own territory and the Watch already riled up over Dee’s intrusion, then there could well be a vicious fight. Blood would be spilled, for certain, and lives might be lost. And Mark on his own would be a sitting duck.
Dee couldn’t really say when she became aware of the wolf running alongside her. He was a distance away, a shadow off through the trees, keeping pace, and slowly edging closer.
It was a male, Faeydir informed her, which immediately suggested he wasn’t from the Grey Watch. Damn, she’d never got around to asking why they had no men with them.
More wolves behind them, and the male wolf angled closer, fighting to keep pace as Faeydir ran in a dead sprint, adrenaline giving her strength – this could well be a race for her very life.
It’s Mark, Faeydir said suddenly, and she veered to the left, heading on a path that would connect with his own.
A huge wolf suddenly dropped down in front of them, leaping from a small cliff above them and landing in a heap that only narrowly missed them.
Sempre, Dee realised, recognising the leader. Faeydir sneered, skidding to a halt. Weak. Half-breed. Fight.
No shit, Dee thought desperately. The wolf hadn’t just dropped in for a friendly chat. Faeydir bared her teeth, hackles up, tail held high as she and Sempre circled each other.
Mark attacked without warning, without a sound to give him away. One moment, Dee was facing off against an angry alpha, and the next, Mark had his teeth around her throat, going for the kill.
Four wolves burst out of the undergrowth, all of them falling on Mark in a tangle of teeth, legs and flying fur. And there was no way in hell Faeydir was going to stand for that. She braced herself, looked for an opening in the fight, and launched herself at the wolves.
They’d lost Mark, Baron was forced to admit after a minute or two, but what they’d found instead was more than enough to keep them occupied. He slowed to a halt as six, then eight, then ten wolves surrounded them. He, John and Andre went on the defensive, their backs to each other as they faced off against the angry Watch. The sound of fighting nearby indicated that Mark had found his own set of problems to deal with, but unfortunately for him, there was nothing Baron could do to help right now.
He stood up to his full height, hackles raised, making him look even bigger, and bared his teeth. Growls from John and Andre proved they were both more than ready for a rumble.
The attacking wolves showed no fear, their postures tall and commanding, but their hesitation to attack betrayed their nervousness. Even outnumbered three to one, Baron knew that the three of them were a force to be reckoned with. He felt no love for the Watch, having spent his ten years as alpha mopping up one problem after another of their doing. John, he knew, held no particular grudge against them, but was always eager for a fight, no matter the circumstances, and his wolf was a thing of nightmares to look at. Scarred, savage and relentless, the Watch were right to hesitate in a fight against John.
&nb
sp; And Andre?
The Watch attacked before Baron could finish that thought, but the first-hand evidence spoke for itself. Andre was every bit as lethal as his reputation suggested. The fight was brutal – for all of them – but Andre held nothing back of his vicious training, ripping one wolf’s throat until she was bleeding profusely, causing her to retreat and shift into human form so as not to bleed out. He latched onto another wolf’s shoulder and ripped, tearing the skin away in a long strip that had the wolf screaming and breaking off from the fight.
But despite the wins, Baron was soon forced to admit that they were simply outnumbered. More wolves arrived from out of the darkness, and at one point he found himself holding off three of them, big, experienced fighters, while he watched another three leap on top of John, the smaller wolf all but buried beneath the bodies for a moment before he managed to shake them off, drawing blood in the process.
Baron longed to know where Dee was, to join her and Mark in their own battle, but there was no escaping from the current fight at the moment. He felt jaws sink into his shoulder, spun around with a snarl that had his teeth connect in a satisfying way with the female’s face, and felt blood drip down his leg as she let go.
They were wasting time and wearing themselves out. Another strategy was needed here, but how the hell was he supposed to communicate that to John and Andre when they were both…
A gunshot blasted through the clearing, and Baron spun around to see Andre in human form, gun in hand with a dead wolf at his feet. How he’d managed to shift and get a shot off fast enough to avoid being bitten was unbelievable, but the move worked – every wolf in the clearing pulled up short, gaping at the assassin in shock.
“I break no laws here,” Andre announced, loud and clear. “The Council has sent us to cull your kind more than once in the past.” He swung the gun around to point it at the other wolves, several of them attempting a stealthy retreat to the edges of the clearing. “I bear their mark…” he held up his hand, displaying the brand on his palm, “…and I am well within my authority to slaughter the lot of you.”
The remaining wolves glanced at one another, fidgeting restlessly, and then one of them headed for the forest, back the way they’d come. The rest slowly followed, growls and bared teeth all the way.
The last one out of the clearing stopped at the edge of it and shifted into human form. She glared at Andre, then spat at the ground. “You are a traitor to our species,” the woman snarled at him.
“Unfortunately for you,” Andre said evenly, “I’m prepared to live with that.”
With one more sound of disgust, the woman followed the others back into the forest, shifting between one step and the next. Andre waited a moment, until he was sure they were gone, then he holstered his gun.
“Let’s go find Mark,” he said grimly. He was back in wolf form a split second later, the shift faster than Baron could believe, and Baron led the way off through the forest, tracing Mark’s tracks and hoping that the thick silence ahead of them meant victory, and not defeat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Snow was falling, blood splattered red on white in a pattern that Dee was learning to dread. Mark was a beast, tearing skin and flesh, breaking one wolf’s foot, biting the end off another’s tail. Faeydir was no less savage, throwing herself into the fight with glee.
This was far different from the fights Dee had seen or been involved in. In all the status fights in the Den, the goal had always been to make a show of strength or cunning over your opponent, but never to do lasting damage. In this fight, the wounds were deep and painful, the risk of permanent injury or death very real, and Dee was once again glad to have Faeydir along. The wild wolf knew plenty about fighting and held nothing back as she faced off against her larger and stronger opponents.
But as the fight wore on, with odds of two against five, the harsh truth began to sink in – after a day of stress, first the Noturatii, then hours of running through the fields, the Grey Watch and then a breakneck chase through the forest, Faeydir was all but exhausted. She was determined, though, not willing to stand down until these weak, imposter wolves were defeated, not willing to abandon Mark to the fight for a single moment, but her strength was waning. They were going to need to finish things here quickly if they weren’t both to be killed.
The breakthrough came when Mark launched a new assault on Sempre, a violent tussle that resulted with Mark hanging from her shoulder by his jaws, Sempre snarling and snapping, but unable to get a good angle to fight back. Faeydir shoved the wolf she was fighting aside and leapt for Sempre, biting her hard on the back leg, sinking teeth through muscle and tendon, ensuring the wolf would be limping for days. Another hard bite through her flank, and Sempre went down.
She half expected Mark to kill her, the rage in his eyes unrelenting, as the other four wolves stood around nervously. Mark gave Sempre a quick shake, tearing the wound in her shoulder a little more, and the older female lay still in surrender. She was breathing hard, bleeding from a dozen wounds, and looked outraged at having been defeated.
A gunshot suddenly blasted through the forest, loud and haunting, followed by an eerie silence.
Mark released his grip and stood back, still snarling, placing himself firmly between Dee and the other wolves.
Sempre got to her feet, then shifted, glaring daggers at Mark. Perhaps she’d been expecting backup, more wolves to finish what she had started, but the forest around them remained empty and silent.
“This is not over,” she promised. “You trespass on our territory and then act like you own the place? There will be repercussions for this.”
No doubt there would be. But for the moment, Dee was far more interested in getting out of here than in worrying about what would happen in the days to come. Once they were back at the estate, Baron would come up with a defensive plan. Tank and Silas would protect them. Simon would employ whatever was the newest, greatest security gadget, and Il Trosa would hold its own against the Watch.
Sempre backed away into the undergrowth, shifted, then turned and fled, her roughened voice calling the other wolves after her. Dee and Mark waited a full minute to make sure they were gone.
A yip from Mark had Faeydir turning around, and he led the way quickly to the west, a brisk pace that was nonetheless slow enough for Faeydir to keep up. He was bleeding, but a quick once-over revealed that none of the wounds were serious, so Faeydir was content to just follow him for now.
A few minutes later they reached a road, a narrow track through the forest, and Mark stopped at the roadside, threw back his head and howled.
Three echoing howls came back at him, not too distant from their spot, and he sighed with relief. The sharp crackle of electricity followed, and then he was human again. He was still breathing hard, tense and restless as he scanned the road up and down, then glanced warily at the forest.
“Alistair has the van. When Baron arrives, Alistair can track us from the chip in Baron’s phone. I have no fucking idea where we are.”
Now that they weren’t running or fighting for their lives, Dee took a moment to just be utterly and completely grateful that Mark had come for her. She was grateful to the whole Den, unreservedly, but that Mark had been the one to find her…
Satisfied that they were out of danger for the moment, Dee asked Faeydir to shift… and received a flat refusal. The wolf stepped closer to Mark and nuzzled his hand, and with a wry grin, Mark crouched down and ruffled her fur, half amused, half infuriated.
“You run off like that again, and you and I are going to have words,” he told the wolf sharply.
Faeydir responded by wagging her tail fiercely and licking him all over his face. He checked her over, making sure the worst of her wounds weren’t bleeding too badly. They would both need medical treatment when they got back to the estate, but for now, none of the injuries were serious. Only when he was quite finished did Faeydir retreat and allow Dee to take over.
The instant she was back in human form, Mark
turned on her with a fiery glare, angrier than she had ever seen him, and as he stalked towards her, she involuntarily took a few steps back.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, trying to explain her disappearance, and the fact that she had been doing a thousand things that the Den and Il Trosa expressly forbade. “I shouldn’t have run off, but the Noturatii were there, and they were going to capture me again, and Faeydir panicked- Mmph!”
Mark grabbed her by both shoulders, kissing her with a passion that left her breathless. Then he released her arm and cupped a warm hand around the back of her neck instead. How the hell did he manage to be so warm when they were standing in the middle of a snow storm? “You scared the shit out of me!” he told her sharply, then kissed her again, and Dee was no more prepared for it the second time around. It was heavenly, the warm, familiar scent of him, the heat of his chest against hers, the way his hands cupped her face so gently. “Are you all right?” he asked, when he finally pulled back.
Dee nodded. And then shook her head as a day full of chaos and fear and danger caught up with her all at once. “No. I’m really not.”
“Are you injured?”
“No, not hurt. Physically I’m fine. I just…” She swayed on her feet and clutched at his coat for support.
“You’re exhausted.”
Dee shrugged helplessly. “It’s been a long day.” And if that wasn’t the understatement of the century…
“We’re going to get Alistair to pick us up. And then we’re going to head home. And as soon as we’re there, if you want to fall apart for a little while, you’re perfectly entitled to.”
Dee smiled despite herself. “I might just do that.”
The light sound of wolf footfalls broke through the thick silence.
“Thank God,” Mark muttered, still holding her close. “That’ll be Baron and John. And Andre, if we haven’t lost him.”
