If we went tearing off somewhere again we needed to bring the Jeep and caravan, let them curl up outside, even if we had to trespass and camp illegally to do it.
Dens are for pups.
With my hair in a towel, I flopped across my bed and started a glossary of wolf expressions, slang, and loanwords they used from Lucannis. Then all the words I could remember from Kage and others teaching me in Lucannis.
After some minutes, my pen slowing while I struggled to remember certain words, I flipped pages to my scrying sketches and added a rendering of our visitation last night. We hadn’t mentioned them to Atarah, but that was the other thing I had to tell Diana. She and Atarah were meaning to help me find faie.
Well, they’d found us. Which hadn’t helped. Only delivered terrible news that we’d already suspected.
Still trying to recall words and expressions, I called Rowan, hoping to leave a voicemail and summarize. Instead, he answered and I ended up going through the whole vampire and faie story.
He was no more than sympathetic over the vampires. We’d known all along it was a circumstantial effort. But, hearing the story of the faie last night, he was duly shocked.
“You actually saw them? They came to you and you saw an elemental? In the waking world? Ellasandra has seen them in Cornwall, but I know of very few others who have ever received such a visit. You are a kind spirit, Cassia, to be able to attract them. Or powerful witch. They enjoy a visit to what drives their curiosity also. Had you been using magic when they came to you?”
“Not recently.” I frowned at the ceiling as I listened to him. “We had tried summoning them. I think that’s what got their attention. They only needed to choose their own time to appear. But … I don’t think it was my spirit or intentions or magic that finally attracted them. They could have come to me all along. I think it was the wolves.”
“The wolves? I didn’t know they were particularly connected to shifters.”
I told him about Jed having seen them before: being in fur, seeming a total wolf, was how he’d been able to be around them. And how the faie had neglected to appear until they perceived a single humanoid among a whole furred wolf pack.
“That’s not what’s most important now, though,” I said. “It’s that we learned the faie are somehow being hunted and murdered by this same killer that is going after wolves in the south and vampires around Britain. And druids.”
“We don’t know that for sure…” Yet he sounded doubtful.
“Going for their eyes? The pattern? Rowan, it has to be the same.”
He let out a breath and there was a long silence on the line.
“I’ll tell Ellasandra and the order, but, Cassia, who could even slay a … spirit? An elemental? I know they can die, but … something like that…”
“I don’t know. That’s the trouble. But it has to be in the community. It crossed our minds that mundanes could have found the wolves and been killing them. And mundanes could go for vampires if they can find their ways around the charms and mind tricks vampires use. But faie? Shifters, casters, it has to be someone on the inside. No one else could attract them.”
“And where do the druids fit in? We’re not magical beings. Why would someone hunt druids who was hunting the magical triad? Shifters, undead, and faie have little connection to druids.”
“Some connection, though. You’re part of that world. You’ve lost three members, right? Only in England? It could be they were in the way, or they knew something. It could be the faie were in contact with those druids. I don’t feel like druids are their main target, though. I have a contact among the vampires now—I hope. I’ll ask him more. When did this start for them, where all have they been discovering vampires destroyed with this pattern? I don’t even know what good it would do us, but the more information the better.”
We talked on about what happened in Yorkshire. Rowan assured me he would pass along my news, but he was clearly upset about this development on the faie and didn’t linger on the phone.
After him, I texted Gavin, just a test with the number. He wrote back inviting me to play Words with Friends—which almost made me laugh, feeling good.
We started a game and I texted again asking if he would share details of the vampire losses with me so I could add them to our growing notes.
I’m only awake at all because I’m taking our ancient friend his record back. No thanks to you. If you want a chat, try me after sunset.
I apologized. I’d forgotten about the only awake at night thing. Then again, he’d been the one to start a game.
I sent him questions anyway. He could answer when he wished. Then played words back and forth while I continued through my notes.
Returning to my original suspect list, I flipped to the other side of the page, added a date, and wrote a new one.
Suspects:
Shifters of unknown source, possibly urban or specific rogue pack.
Caster group such as Broomantle, or other organization.
Consider asking about rogue druids?
Mundane involvement highly unlikely, if not impossible, but also consider hidden societies such as the vampire hunters among mundanes.
Victims:
South Coast Cooperative shifters, plus three wolves in France.
Undead around England, or beyond? (Confirm with Gavin.)
Faie. Unknown in numbers or locations, presumably UK.
Three known druids all in the South of England.
These neat lists made me feel better for the mental exercise and structure of doing them. But much worse for actually looking at them. We just hadn’t come very far. While, not only was my time running out here, but people were dying.
Gavin played annoyance and I sighed.
We could do better. Had to do better.
In the meantime, though, looking after my own pack had to be first. Isaac, Kage, all of their health. We weren’t going to solve anything or save anyone if we didn’t have each other.
I played amends.
Chapter 28
Despite the long day, I didn’t sleep any better returned to Atarah’s comfortable, astrology-themed, climate-controlled guest room than I had on the ground with my pack. In fact, I slept worse.
After the chilly reception, I should have followed my instincts and declined Zar’s invitation to joining the music circle in the field. Instead, I’d made the effort for him and instantly regretted it.
The wolves already out when Zar and I had arrived relinquished their places and drifted away. Some to move elsewhere in the field and resume their conversations—in Lucannis—or singing. Some leaving completely, either melting into the woods or returning to their homes. A couple had been in fur and flattened their ears and darted away as if I’d brought a hunting rifle into the field. But it wasn’t only me: some of his packmates had cast Zar hostile glances as well.
They hadn’t been like this before. Yes, there’d been some discontent by my presence all along. Then a marked change a couple days before we had left for Yorkshire, after most of my pack had publicly offered me their ritual vow usually given only to their top silvers or to Moon. I’d known even then the pack had objected. Now, something had soured much more in our absence.
I hadn’t stayed, hadn’t even sat down with him, though Zar still offered, just as if his friends and relations had handed us a warm welcome. I’d apologized, excused myself, and headed quickly back.
This experience then took up the first couple hours of my supposed sleep time. When the subject ran its course, I found myself back on the one of Kage and Jason and myself. Which got me back to apparently having lost Isaac yesterday morning as well—though I hadn’t the faintest idea how or why and hadn’t even exchanged a word with him about it. Which thinking got me to sleeping alone: wishing I either had a fuzzy bed-warmer on each side again. Or, better, a wolf in skin to curl up with. This took another hour thinking of them and where they were.
Jed’s lockdown was over by technical restrictions now. He would
be in fur to sleep, either in the woods or in his own bedroom. Did he even have a human-type bed? Down the hall from him would be Zar, in his room crammed with hundreds of books, papers, leatherwork projects, and musical instruments.
Then another set of brothers, these two adopted. Jason would be rooming with Andrew tonight, back in the bedroom they had shared growing up. I hoped Jason had made a full recovery by tomorrow. Was Andrew also still upset about what had happened between him and Isaac?
Kage would be in his usually shared place with Jason on his own. Unless he’d gone to stay with his parents? Could he manage alone and half-blind? He must have gone to visit them, at least. But it could not have been a joyous reunion. Kage had fled the morning his sister had been murdered. Only to return a few days later unable to see, lucky himself even to be alive.
Only Isaac would for sure be alone in his own home tonight. Living alone among the pack was apparently so undesirable, so isolating, Isaac was one of the only members who did. So did Atarah, now that I thought of it. Although she was old enough to have had a pup or two who only recently left her home to move in with a mate. But Isaac was young. Even Jed, who seemed to hate most of his own pack, still lived with his mother and brother and, as far as I knew, was fine with the arrangement. Wolves were just too social to live alone. So were many humans.
When I finally did sleep, it was to dreams of eyeless faie groping about in darkness, their own guiding light gone.
Before my working eyes they morphed and stretched like melted wax and turned into great beasts of the night, stalking us as we slept out in the open, watching with their nose and ears as their eyes remained missing from great sockets in their huge, rough skulls, big as dinosaurs.
I woke up sweating, reminded that we never had figured out where that swampy smell came from. What had been lurking in the dark? I should have asked Rowan about strange creatures. Druids might know. Yet Jed had said it wasn’t a creature…
Nothing had been watching us with sinister intent last night, at least. The wolves would have sensed it. Even asleep?
Were the faie trying to send me a warning? Had they known something watched us? But there was nothing else … was there? Nothing even for druids to know.
The triad of magical beings: shifters, undead, faie. No more.
Yet, if faie accounted for so much, who was to say there wasn’t some other trace of magic left in the world of wild beasts? Some sort of distant kin of the faie? Some hold over from ancient times? A magical beast might explain it not smelling like one.
And … one of these incredibly rare, unknown, unremembered relics of a time lost to myth just happened to be skulking around after us in Yorkshire?
Lying with the window wide and all my covers thrown back in the warm August night, I grabbed my phone and, after answering his last play in Words with Friends, texted Gavin again.
Do you know of a creature that might be lurking in Yorkshire and smell of swamps?
A quick reply. I wondered where he was. Overnight train to France? Driving down? Did vampires have their own way of quick travel to reach the castle?
Are you hinting at something?
I almost chuckled. Sounded like something Andrew would come back with. Which reminded me that Andrew also hadn’t been quite himself lately.
There was something watching us in the countryside. Something that had a swampy smell but we never saw it. It did not smell alive. I thought you might know something about not alive smells.
He played another word so I went to look at that while I waited.
It’s been six months.
What? I asked.
You wanted to know how long vampires have been being destroyed with this pattern. It’s been about six months. 42 losses that I’m aware of. Mostly England. Also Glasgow. Birmingham hit the hardest. Though keep in mind the majority of all vampires in the UK are in London and Birmingham.
42?? No wonder you started spawning. I had no idea. Sorry.
Really? You’re talking to a vampire.
Sure I am. I don’t like that you prey on people and so on, but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer. I’m sure you didn’t choose to be one.
You’re a strange bird.
Which made me think of the faie again because of the heart of light they had given me. Love and empathy and compassion. But what did that have to do with anything? Empathy wasn’t helping us solve this case. I had no love for Gavin. What made this heart so important? Was it their request for compassion to me to help them? Or was it … a warning? My own feelings were making other people suffer right now. When I’d returned I’d assured myself distance. Instead, I’d been sleeping with them and people I loved were hurting because of my choices.
After a pause, I went on: You haven’t answered me. Know of a creature like that?
Your pets say it checked out as non-living on an olfactory scan?
Yes.
No beasts besides human beings are susceptible to contracting vampirism. Something that’s dead and up walking around is either formally human or you better start running because the only other thing I know would be something in your line of work.
My line?
Magic.
Necromancy? There’s no such thing as animating an entire body by caster’s magic. That’s for mundane fantasy stories.
So are vampires and werewolves. He sent me a vampire and a wolf emoji, making me smile.
I didn’t know vampires had a sense of humor.
Be honest. Have you ever chatted with one who was still sane? Or is this your first time?
First time.
This is an honour. Dear me. Let’s not tell your oh so plentiful boyfriends.
Before I could answer, he wrote again.
Look at the time. I do enjoy German night trains. Cheerio.
Thanks for the input. Good luck in Germany.
I turned the phone off so as to prevent more sleep-stealing and set it aside on the bedside table.
And still lay awake.
A necromancer animating some animal’s body, a big dog, say, and sending it to stalk shifters and a witch in the countryside? Nonsense. We might as well have walked into an elephant doing the tango with a penguin…
Yet something else of a magical nature accounting for the smell, plus some sort of physical presence? Possible. If only we knew the what, how, why, and who.
More dreams of vampires and dead beasts on leashes roaming the fells.
Then wolves throwing back their heads to sing, only to have their throats cut.
Finally, the one to wake me, was seeing Kage sitting alone on the dark hillside, blood running from his eyes, and, no matter how fast I ran for him, screaming out, calling, begging, I never drew any closer and he never looked around.
I woke again just before dawn, almost in tears.
This time, I was too afraid to even try for more sleep, so much wishing I had someone to hold onto I thought of going to find one of them—any one—to crawl into bed like a child waking in a thunderstorm and creeping down the hall to her parents’ room.
I turned my phone back on and sent Rowan a text asking if he knew about any such creature. Probably no use, but it made me feel productive.
I waited as long as I could, sun just up, still miserable, deliberately keeping myself awake out of fear, before I got up and dressed and took as long as I could getting ready to go out.
It was still before 8:00 a.m. when I approached the yellow door that Andrew had previously described to me. I didn’t need to knock, however. It opened as I walked up.
A middle-aged couple stepped out, talking softly in English about cheese.
“The mozzarella can sit out for hours in the evening and it’s fine.” The female was gesturing with one hand in great frustration. “But the goat cheese will stink, the Swiss will dry out, and on and on. Do they listen?”
“Of course they listen,” the male said, tugging the door shut after them. “To the little voices in their own heads telling them they’re always perfe
ctly right, no matter the subject, or their own lack of education.”
“That’s exactly—”
They stopped, blinking at me as if a snowman had appeared in front of their home.
Both were strikingly attractive, both very dark complexioned, looking Spanish, like Jason. The male, in an open-necked purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up, had a scruffy mop of black hair starting to show flecks of gray. The female had a headband with feathers and seashells on her hair and wore a summer dress in a brilliant yellow pattern. She was an inch or two taller than him, pushing six feet. Both were barefoot and looked like they’d been lost on their way to their vividly painted bus in 1969.
“Good morning,” I said. “Andrew asked me to stop by. Sorry to be so early.”
“You’re Cassia,” the female said. This was Tabitha, if I remembered correctly.
“Yes, I know.”
“You’re here to see Andrew?” the male asked.
The female rolled her eyes and looked at him. “Did you think she was here to see Jay? Look at her, Thomas.” She flapped her hand at me. “Has anyone like that ever called for Jason in a thousand phases?”
“That was not the point of my question, dearest.” He faced her and crossed his arms. “I was merely going to offer my condolences.”
“Your condolences?” I asked.
Both looked at me.
Thomas frowned, but Tabitha’s expression was commiserating, sympathetic.
“What is it, pet?” she asked me. “I’ll march right into their room and get it for you.”
“Oh, no. Andrew didn’t nick anything from me.”
As one, their eyebrows jumped.
“He hasn’t?” Thomas asked.
“Are you sure?” Tabitha asked.
“He must not like you,” Thomas said, arms still crossed.
His mate elbowed him. “Thomas, really.”
“Well, I mean—” He shifted to open his hands helplessly, as if to say he was simply stating the obvious.
Moonlight Betrayal: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 5) Page 17
