by Carmen Caine
One Lord Lucian Rowle
Jax’s mouth flopped open, his body swaying back and forth like a ragdoll under my hands. The half- dozen or so people around me began to whisper and cough in shock. One looked ready to head my way or a not-so-friendly chat. I couldn’t have that. Licking my lips, I forced my fingers to relax, and letting Jax go, sat back down in my chair heavily.
“Where did you get that?” I asked again, trying for calm this time but failing miserably.
Jax squirmed and gave an uneasy laugh. “No wonder you’re so good at this, Raven,” he said, white-faced. “You scared the living sh—”
I didn’t have time for small talk. Not when I stood within grasp of my lifelong goal. “Where?” I barged in curtly.
He blinked but answered, “Lord Lucian Rowle. He’s offered us the case on the condition that he meets you—”
My head snapped back. As a rule, I never met Jax’s clients—but this time? “Yeah, I want to meet him, too,” I snarled, struggling to reel in a full growl, complete with drooling canines.
“He’s got a car waiting—”
“It can wait,” I cut him off again. There was no way in hell I would meet this English dude without every weapon in my personal arsenal hiding somewhere on my body. “I’m getting my things first.”
The color returned to Jax’s face and he grinned. “Alrighty then, so you’re taking the case?”
I sent him a withering glance.
He took it as a yes.
Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a folded slip of white paper. “He sent his address, in case you preferred to arrive on your own.”
That made my hackles rise. This Lord Rowle had obviously been watching me. Was it a trap? Grabbing the paper, I snatched the spider barrette from the table and jammed it along with the Ziploc into my jacket pocket.
“Catch you later, Jax,” I muttered and then crossing the floor in long, bold strides, left the coffee shop.
My mind raced the entire way back to my apartment, a ten-story distressed crumbling pile of bricks long past due for demolition. I didn’t care, though. It suited me just fine. Everyone left me to my own business, and for the most part, I left them to theirs—I repeat, for the most part. On occasion, I had to play the role of peace enforcer when their fighting intruded on my sleep. After a few times of that, whenever they saw me coming, they tended to slink away as if they had tails tucked between their legs.
I skipped up the rusted fire escape two steps at a time, heading for my window. I’d learned long ago to avoid front doors. I barreled up the escape, clenching my jaw as I approached the window directly beneath mine. The old lady there loved Christmas. I hated it. She’d covered every inch with Christmas lights, obnoxious pinpricks of light blinking ‘Merry Christmas’ right in your face. The whole display never failed to make me break out in a cold sweat. Wincing, I dashed past and prying open my bedroom window, slid inside.
A quick sniff revealed things exactly as I’d left them. I crossed over to my unmade bed, it and the sectional couch in the living room the only pieces of furniture I possessed. I kept the rest of the place relatively empty, just as I liked it.
Reaching under the bed, I pulled out a green duffle bag and unzipping it, dumped my collection of weaponry out onto the mattress. Guns and knives for the most part, but with the occasional odd garrote or poisoned dart tossed in as well. Humming under my breath, I began to buckle and strap as many as I could onto my tall, lanky frame.
Satisfied, I straightened and flexed my sore shoulder. Yeah, that vampire had really done a number on it last week. Why were so many of Jax’s clients Charmed? Grunting, I strode to the bathroom and gulped down a few Tylenols before grabbing my helmet and taking the fire exit once again.
I kept my motorcycle in the back, next to the community storage shed. I didn’t need to lock it. Every eye in the apartment building watched over it on my behalf, some to garner my favor but most afraid they’d be blamed if it turned up missing. Swinging my leg over my beauty of a machine, I revved the engine and seconds later, tore out of the complex, spraying the brick apartment walls with gray slush on the way out.
There’s nothing like the rush of wind in your face, just ask all those dogs hanging out of car windows. By the time I turned down the boulevard and into Lord Lucian Rowle’s posh office complex, my mood had improved significantly.
Parking my bike, I tossed the helmet over the handlebars and shook out my hair, cocking a brow at the sleek building standing out clean and crisp against the backdrop of the older buildings surrounding it.
I took a deep breath. No hint of the stench I searched for.
Wary, I entered the building and headed for the elevators, sleek brushed-steel affairs. The doors whooshed open silently, and after double-checking Jax’s paper, I jammed the ‘5’ with my thumb. Moments later, the doors opened again and I stepped out into a marble-lined hallway. Only one door marred the gray expanse. Apparently, Lord Rowle took up the whole floor.
I paused, checking the air again. To be sure, interesting scents teased my nose, but again, nothing like his. So, the stench wasn’t Lord Lucian Rowle’s but most likely belonged to the owner of the spider barrette.
Still on the alert, I strode to the door and shoved it open with my foot.
An array of modern furniture in muted colors met my eyes before my gaze zeroed in on the black cat perched on the reception desk off to the side.
I could tell at once that this wasn’t your average cat. Yeah, warlocks and witches kept their familiars, but as far as familiars went, this one was unusual. She didn’t smell entirely cat.
She sat there, watching me with her green eyes and then slowly rose to her feet. Tail high in the air, she yawned and stretched, pointing her furry rear end my way in an obvious insult.
“Yeah, I know you sense my wolf’s blood,” I growled under my breath. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
She flicked her ears at me and took the time to yawn and stretch again, clearly enjoying making me wait.
I leveled a stare.
Moving at glacial speeds, she strolled leisurely across the desk before dropping down to disappear through an opening in the accent wall behind it.
A moment later, a door opened to the side and a petite Asian woman appeared—or so she appeared to be, anyway. The façade of human clearly hid something else parading below the surface. I couldn’t place it. Snake? Lizard? Something unholy, to be sure.
“Follow,” was all she said.
I stalked after her down the short hallway and into a large office where a man waited behind a massive mahogany desk.
Lord Lucian Rowle was a devastatingly handsome man if you liked the aloof, dark-haired, British pedigreed, mysterious warlock type. I found his eyes most striking. They kind of glowed, blue and silver—a testament to his power. Yeah, clearly this guy was going to know things. A warlock of his obvious stature could have had minions watching me for months. I should have known.
“I’ve been watching you,” he confirmed in a deep, slightly British-accented voice.
“I’m not surprised I crossed your radar,” I admitted on high alert. “I always get my target.” Getting to the point, I pulled the spider barrette out of my pocket and closing the distance between us, dropped it onto his desk. “Who’s this person you want me to bring in?”
“Locate and mark only, not ‘bring in’ as you say,” he corrected in cool amusement, settling back into his high-backed leather chair and steepling his fingers. “This won’t be your typical hunt, but I think it’s one uniquely suited to your skillset.”
That gave me a pause. I tensed. “Skillset?” I probed, my sixth senses kicking into an even higher gear. Just how long had this dude been watching me?
“Skills surrounding survival,” he granted me with an answer, his sharp gaze seeming to bore right through my skull. “The skills one gains surviving impossible odds and quite alone.”
So, he knew I was a bonepicker, but he couldn’t know what kind.
; His sexy, carved lips opened again and his smooth voice continued to rumble. “Skills particularly suited to those who sing with the moon.”
Shoot. He knew what kind. He knew I was an Under Reach Wolf of the Mist.
He opened a desk drawer and pulling a manila folder out, set it on the desk and flipped it open. “Find her, and these will go away, Raven.”
I glanced at the sheets of paper he began to lay out, side by side. My wanted posters—even the ones I’d forgotten.
I met his keen, gray gaze. Yeah, he was in control here, but he wasn’t entirely relaxed. He sat erect, ready, as if he couldn’t quite trust the wolf he’d invited into his house—er, office.
Smart man.
He shouldn’t.
“Her name is Anya Maria Tudor, a mistake of mine,” he explained, his expression turning a shade rueful. “I used her to gain access to her uncle, a Romanian necromancer, and once I’d completed my mission, I no longer had need of her.”
“So, an angry ex-girlfriend,” I inserted, frowning. Something was off—unless he liked old women. My pack had been devastated over twenty-five years ago and by a figure I would have sworn was a man. “How old is she?”
“I’d say twenty-eight,” he replied, lifting a brow as if striving to remember.
I’d say? Yeah, this gal was going to be really angry, considering her ex-lover didn’t even know how old she was. Hmmm. Even if he were off a few years, that still put Anya as a kid at the time of my event. She clearly wasn’t the one I sought, but she was obviously a close relation. Daughter, most likely.
“I thought her a rather weak scryer,” Lord Lucian Rowle continued. “But I’ve recently discovered her to be a quite powerful witch with an affinity for spiders.”
“Spiders?” My brow arced higher. I never cared for spiders, at least, in human form. As a wolf, I didn’t mind so much.
His silver eyes zeroed in on me once again with that razor-sharp gaze missing nothing. “And that’s where your skills will come to play, Raven,” he said in a voice as smooth as butter. “You’ll need your Magi skills.”
I froze. I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t supposed to know of those. He was human. A warlock. The Wolves of the Mist had guarded their Magi abilities closer than their lives, a secret most sacred.
His lip quirked, just enough to betray the fact that I’d betrayed my abilities.
“She’ll have spiders watching everywhere,” he said, leaving the rest unsaid. “You cannot let them warn her. Find her and mark her, that’s all I want you to do.”
All? Finding her would most likely be a breeze, marking not so much.
He gave a soft huff of a laugh, apparently enjoying my reaction and rummaged in a desk drawer to pull out a small black velvet jewelry bag. Shaking a pea-sized glittering crystal into his palm, he picked it up and held it to the light. “You’ll mark her with this. Ensorcelled nanoparticles spelled for Anya alone. Simply drop this on her skin. The spell will do the rest. There’s no need to return here. I’ll know when you’ve done the job.”
I lifted a brow, watching him drop the crystal back into the bag and draw the gold drawstrings tight.
Yeah, the job sounded easy enough.
Rising to his feet, he handed me the bag along with a business card with writing scrawled on the back. “Her last address. It’s under my control. They’re expecting you.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Right,” I said, stuffing the bag and card into my jacket, and pivoting on my heel, strode out through the door.
Yeah, I’d find his little ex-girlfriend of a witch and tag her like a shark.
But I sure as hell was going to find him, too.
Eyes in the Millions
I zoomed through the rows of Park Avenue townhouses, right up to the one with a bright green door and a gargoyle-shaped doorknob. Several wolves guarded the premises, rangy, brown-haired dudes, their synchronized movements announcing them wolves from the same pack. They watched me as warily as I watched them. I didn’t trust pack wolves. They stuck together. Make one mad and you had the whole lot of them barking at your heels.
Striding up the cement porch steps, I greeted them with a curt “Move out of my way” followed by a flash of Lucian’s business card.
They didn’t like it, but they moved.
I couldn’t resist tossing a cocky grin over my shoulder as I breezed through the front door. It wasn’t often I got the opportunity to lord it over pack wolves. I couldn’t help but enjoy it—just a little.
The moment I stepped inside, I turned all business. I scarcely noticed the dark, dismal décor. I caught the briefest impression of dark gray curtains with red fringe, a faded green shag carpet, and a dingy yellow couch before my blood leapt at the two nearly identical aromas caressing my nostrils.
So, this Anya was close kin to my target, her scent only varied slightly. My target had to be her father. They held that same unique, almost citrusy aroma. I followed the scents to where they were strongest, a desk in a small office in a bedroom. Papers and pens were scattered on the desk’s surface, along with a half-burnt cigar and a One Penn Plaza parking pass.
I grabbed them both. The cigar reeked of his stench and the parking pass of hers. Find one and I’d most likely find the other.
I spent the next fifteen minutes or so rifling through the desk and the other rooms, but found nothing more to catch my attention. Tucking the cigar and parking pass into an inner jacket pocket, I brushed past the wolves and hopped back on my bike.
My mind raced as I zipped through traffic, weaving my way through the cars and barely sliding in under traffic lights switching from yellow to red. The other wolves had probably already checked out the parking garage earlier. That meant my normal wolf abilities were most likely useless there.
No wonder Lucian had called me.
A short time later, I pulled up to the black sign with its bold white letters spelling ‘Park’ and an orange arrow directing me into the garage. I eased my bike between the wall and a Volkswagen on the first level and took a deep analyzing breath.
I grimaced. Nothing here but your normal New York City Parking Garage urine-flavor-of-the-month stench.
Fine. I clearly had to risk using my Magi abilities.
I smoothed my leather jacket and strolled briskly to the stairwell, scoping out the security cameras along the way. There wasn’t much in the realm of security. Only one camera, an ancient model and a piece of cake to disable. Job done, I removed the cigar and parking pass from my pocket, and dropping them on the floor, shivered a little and a second later, stood beneath the now-defunct camera, on four legs instead of two.
I rippled my silvery gray fur and grinned, exposing my sharp, pointed teeth. There’s nothing like running as a wolf, nor howling like one. Lifting my snout, I drew on my ancient hereditary magic and crooned in a soft howl, my ears flicking back and forth, deciphering the echoes as my eyes narrowed to inspect the patterns emerging on the walls.
Sound.
Long ago, the Wolves of the Mist had harnessed the magic of sound, and even as untrained as I was, I could still use its power in many ways. Tracking, first and foremost.
I glanced down at Anya’s parking pass and the cigar, studying the color and pattern of the scent now a bright red scratch of marks on its surface and then scoured the walls around me.
There.
On top of the others. A perfect match of Anya’s pattern and new, too. It couldn’t be more than an hour old. She could hide the scent with magic to throw the other wolves off her trail, but she hadn’t accounted for a Wolf of the Mist being able to see the imprint of the aroma she’d left behind.
Stifling my excitement, I flashed down the stairs on all four paws as fast as I could. At such speeds, I’d appear as a barely detectable blur on the security cameras—unless some wise guy decided to slow the playback down.
I crooned as I ran, summoning Anya’s patterns to reveal themselves. They did, leading me to a metal gray door. I hesitated. Usually, such do
ors marked the entrance to the Fringe, the seedy underbelly of the Charmed society, a city in its own right lurking beneath the city above ground.
But this door wasn’t a Fringe door.
I was going to need my fingers. Darting behind a large red pickup, I shifted back into human form once more and glanced around. The place was empty. In the distance, I heard the honking of a car alarm several floors up. But other than that, I saw no sign of life. Drawing my 9mm Smith & Wesson from its holster, I made for the door, my fingers running along my keychain, ferreting out the lock pick from the keys.
In a flash, I had the door open and slipped inside.
I smelled her stench everywhere then, fresh and strong, coming up from the steel bar grating embedded in the floor. Something moved there, right under the toes of my boots. I dropped to my knees and squinted closer.
It took a moment to register: a wriggling mass of spiders.
I winced and drew back in alarm. “Your ex is a seriously disturbing woman, Lord Rowle,” I muttered under my breath.
Yeah, there could be no doubt. Her trail disappeared down there, somewhere beneath that writhing mass.
Well, I couldn’t have those million or so eyes watching me. At least one of the little suckers would get suspicious and run off to tell her she had company—if they hadn’t already. Turning wolf oce more, I summoned a Magi ability once again and howled a song of sleep, a louder song this time, one to coax the millions of eyes now turning my way to close their lids instead.
They fell prey to it at once, dropping from their webs like stones. I could hear their soft, squishy bodies landing on the damp cement below. In seconds, the mass beneath the grating had melted away, revealing a ladder embedded on one wall and a narrow, darkened doorway on the other.
And from that opening, her scent came, loud and clear. Either she was still there or had left just recently.
I assumed my human shape once again and yanking the grating aside, climbed down the ladder. Spider bodies clothed the floor in a black carpet at least six inches thick. Ignoring the squishing crunch under my boots, I headed into the narrow passageway, gun in one hand and unsheathing a silver-bladed knife with the other. In this kind of darkness, vampires could very well lurk even during the day.
