The Longing of Lone Wolves

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “It’s about a child who used to shepherd his family’s flock of sheep. He found it so boring on his own, that he would pretend a wolf hunted in the paddock and run screaming for his parents to come and have a look. Every time they went down to check, there was nothing there but the boy laughing. One day, an actual wolf wandered into his paddock, but when he called for help, no one came. The boy got eaten.”

  Clarke turned to the wasteland side of the mountain and took in the lack of life.

  “My entire life I had these visions,” she said. “Some turned into reality, but many didn’t. As a child, I had no way of telling which dreams were real and which weren’t. My mother’s answer was to walk out. She couldn’t handle a daughter with issues. My father was there for me. He helped me as much as he could, but he never believed me.

  “I saw his death. I saw that it was from his unhealthy lifestyle, but he didn’t believe me, all because I’d grown up telling many lies with the truths. My psychic powers weren’t always reliable, and sometimes I made things up for attention.”

  She wiped her eyes. “One person always believed me. He turned my small little quirks into an empire. And then he sold my skills to someone worse. By the time I had the nerve, or the support to get out of there, it was too late. The damage had been done.”

  If it weren’t for Ada and Laurel, and their friendship, Clarke would never have left Bishop. She depended on him. Thinking of her two friends sent an ache through her body. She missed them. So much.

  The big fae at her side squinted into the distance, zeroing in on something.

  She’d not noticed it before, but could now see a structure reaching into the sky. It looked faded and purple from the haze that separated them, but it was an unmistakable city. Tall skyscrapers in the middle, and a dull wall of crystal surrounding them.

  “Is that...” But she knew. The rightness of her next words just made them come out. “It’s the human city.”

  He nodded.

  “But”—she focused harder—“what is that over the top of the tall buildings, something strung between?”

  “It’s barbed wire. It prevents winged fae from entering the city from above. Or rather, if they get in, it stops them from flying out.”

  “So… they use the wire to cut winged fae down?”

  He nodded grimly. “And by electrocuting them, then keeping and dissecting their bodies for research.”

  She frowned. “But that would also harm any winged creature who dropped into the city, right?”

  A meeting of their eyes said it all. Yes, all animals were harmed, and yes, she understood how vile humans could be. She was one of them, and yet, it was a hard pill to swallow.

  She might not be one, but she knew good people. Her friends Laurel and Ada were good. Ada rescued abused animals and rehabilitated them for the wild. Laurel ran a fitness empire and donated self-defense lessons to victims of domestic abuse. It still baffled Clarke that the two of them wanted to be her friend.

  “There are good people out there,” she declared. Surely some still existed.

  “And there are bad,” Rush answered. “But the Well cares not. This land cares not. It only wants to survive and flourish. We don’t choose the rules of life, but if we don’t follow them, we’re destined for nothing.”

  His words were an echo of the emptiness in her nightmare. They shattered her nerves. There was nothing left to say. They went back to staring at Crystal City in the distance until some time had passed, and he began talking.

  “Apart from myself, only one fae escaped that city intact. A crow shifter. He’d been a curious thief in his teens who’d flown down on a dare. He’d been in crow form when he’d dropped through the gaps in the barbed wire. The fool didn’t realize the same wire made it impossible for him to fly out, and because that place is desecrated land, you cannot draw from the Well there. They’ve tampered too much with the natural order of things. For all we know he’d depleted his personal mana stores and was trapped there as a crow for all that time, unable to shift.”

  “And if he’d had some left?”

  “Then he might have had one or two shifts in him.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “One day he reappeared in Elphyne as a crow. It took him a while to shift back, and it took him even longer to think and speak coherently again. He never spoke of the horrors he endured… if he could remember them at all. When he got out, he joined the Guardians. He’s one of the most ruthless we’ve ever had.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” he asked, surprised.

  “I guess for everything.”

  “We don’t need your pity.” He reached into his pocket and gripped something. His face hardened, and then he took hold of the lead. “Let’s go.”

  For the rest of the journey down the mountain, Clarke forced herself to come to terms with her new reality. She wasn’t near Vegas. Vegas was gone. She was in the future. In an unfamiliar world where magic desperately wanted to bloom, but the withering greed of humans still wanted to reign. But not all humans were evil. Many, in fact, were not. She’d pick-pocketed and conned people, but that was to survive. She’d never stolen from people she didn’t get bad vibes from. She never considered herself an amoral person.

  But was she good?

  A good person wouldn’t use their powers of premonition to steal at all. A good person would try to stop the evil of her dreams from eventuating, no matter the cost. She’d been given a second chance at life. This world had been given a second chance. She had to at least try to make it worth it.

  All she knew for sure was that this fae holding her captive knew her darkest shame, and yet he wasn’t looking at her with disgust. Perhaps his darkest shame was worse than hers.

  As Clarke wended down rocky terrain, the snow melted and revealed fresh dirt and abundant nature. The more they descended, the grumpier she got. Something shifted inside when she saw how the world had changed because of the way she’d lived her old life. Death had been on one side of the mountain and life on the other. Even though she’d had a part, she didn’t want to be lumped in with humans who’d intentionally destroyed the world.

  The fae’s words came back to her. “We don’t choose the rules of life, but if we don’t follow them, we’re destined for nothing.”

  “You know,” she said as she dodged a divot in the path. “We’ve been walking for hours and you still haven’t told me your name.”

  She was also tired, itchy, and hungry.

  The fae nudged her between the shoulder blades. She almost lost her footing.

  He may have a giant sword, scary mother-fucking teeth, and a powerful body she was sure could snap her in two, but her instinct just wasn’t feeling the fear. He had the ability to control her words and her actions, yet he’d only just used the power. She rounded on him.

  “Take these off me,” she demanded. “Free me.”

  He looked down his nose and flicked his gaze to the restraints. Her breath stuck in her throat and, for a moment, she thought her instincts needed a serious talking to. But then he moved toward her. Fast.

  With a speed that left her breathless, and a flick of his powerful hand, his bone knife sliced through her restraints. Clarke’s fists dropped to her sides.

  He leaned forward, his menacing presence only inches from her face. And then he sniffed, nostrils flaring as he trailed his nose along her cheek, jaw and neck. Where he stayed. Hot air puffed out as he exhaled, and goosebumps erupted over her flesh. The tattoo under his eye flared, casting an eerie blue glow as he bared sharp teeth and bit the air, snapping with an audible click.

  Clarke squeaked. A tremble of fear skated up her spine.

  He raised a brow. “It matters not if you are free. You will not run.”

  “And why not? Because you’ll compel me to stay?”

  “Because, woman,” he growled, mouth curving into a wild, wicked grin, “I am the reason for those goosebumps on your skin. I am the reason children have nightmares, a
nd in there”—he pointed into the shadowed woods only a few hundred feet away—“there are far worse things than nightmares. I am the reason you will live to breathe another day.”

  “So I need a monster to fight a monster, is that it?”

  Stupid woman. Stop provoking the beast.

  His eyes narrowed and held her gaze.

  An unearthly howl came from deep within the woods. At least, Clarke thought it was a howl. It could be any manner of creature in this foreign place. His pet wolf stiffened and raised his hackles.

  Watching the woods, the fae stilled in a way that was wholly inhuman. He reached for his sword. Fingers locked tight around the hilt. Knuckles whitened. His ears pricked up straight.

  Leaves rustled and trees whispered that night was falling. Then the tension left his shoulders and he let go of the sword. He tossed a self-righteous look at her, and then swaggered away, continuing toward the very forest that had caused him concern only moments before.

  Goddamn it. She wanted to stomp her feet.

  Smug, smug bastard.

  She should leave just to spite him. But where would she go? To the human city that brutalized fae and animals through a barbed wire ceiling? The one the source of her dread came from? No thanks. She had to face facts. She was in a strange place and on her own. There were dangers out there in the night, and her gut said to go with the fae. He had the upper hand.

  She hurried to catch up, for she knew something he didn’t. She could make friends with nightmares. She’d had practice.

  Chapter Nine

  Clarke thudded along the path behind the fae. He continued toward the darkening woods as if it didn’t scare him, as if the gnarled trees didn’t cause every bone in his body to quake. He stopped at where the trees grew thickest and looked at the darkening sky.

  “We’ll camp here for the night,” he announced and dropped his heavy rucksack.

  He shuffled debris, stones and leaves out of a ten-foot diameter area, and then busied himself with pulling out six yardsticks from his pack.

  Her stomach rumbled. Her skin itched. Her boots rubbed. She could use a good bath. I’m so over this.

  With a sigh, she said, “Can you please tell me your name? I’ll stop asking only when you tell me.”

  She had to get him to trust her and first names were everything.

  The uncertainty in his eyes gave her a chill. There was more to this than he let on. It made her think, perhaps, he could be on the run from the law, if there were such a thing in this place. He’d called himself a Guardian, but maybe that logo on his jacket wasn’t from a friendly place.

  She ducked her head to where he faced. He couldn’t avoid her, or the question.

  He gave an annoyed grunt. “Like I said, I have no name. I am a ghost.”

  He continued to stake each yardstick into the dirt until he made the shape of a circle.

  A Ghost.

  Okay. They’d made progress. But it still wasn’t enough.

  “And what does that mean? You look pretty real to me.”

  He stabbed the last yardstick and rounded on her. “None of your Well-damn business.”

  “Shall I guess it?” Why not? Her guesses had been right lately. She didn’t need some sort of compulsion on her side. She already had an inbuilt lie detector.

  Something like fear flashed in his eyes, and then he clamped down hard. “Fine. Call me Rush.”

  She tried to hide her smile, but failed. Finally.

  Her smile threw him off. He did a double-take, paused long enough for her to know she’d caused discomfort, and then kneeled. Looking into his wolf’s eyes, he calmly said, “You should go back. I need you to protect the cabin and your pack needs you.”

  The wolf whined, but Rush gave it an affectionate scrub between the ears, stood and made a shooing motion. The wolf trotted back the way they had come, gave one last look over his shoulder at Rush, and then kept going.

  Clarke didn’t miss the way Rush winced after the wolf had gone. Once the wolf was out of earshot, he mumbled to himself, “These woods aren’t suitable for an old wolf like him. He’s better off on his own.”

  He finished checking the perimeter of stakes and then sat toward the center of the secure circle and pulled out a wrapped package of dried meat and nuts. He took his fill, and then begrudgingly handed her a few morsels. While Clarke ate, he shoved his rucksack behind his head and sprawled his long legs out. Without a word, he closed his eyes, shimmied to get comfortable, and then relaxed.

  Seriously?

  After a minute or two, when she was sure he’d think she’d just given up and gone to sleep, she chewed loudly and asked, “What are those sticks for?”

  Silence.

  She asked again. “You know, the sticks around us?”

  He gave a grunt and rolled away from her.

  “Rush.”

  The tension in his shoulders revealed he regretted telling her his name.

  An incredible urge to get a rise out of him washed through her, but she used the self-control of a god, and kept it inside. She ended up resting her elbows on her legs, head in hands, and leaned forward. Staring.

  If he fell asleep, she might be able to rifle through the rucksack. Find some money. Something to help her when she managed to get away from him. With each breath he took, his chest moved and the knife at his belt tilted, catching the dying light of the sun. Jewels were embedded in the pommel. Jewels were as good as cash in any time.

  It didn’t take long for him to open an eye. Then another. His attention dipped to her chest and lingered long enough to let her know her shirt must be gaping. The tunic he’d given her was too big. That heated linger caused her nipples to contract.

  He lifted his gaze to her lips, then her eyes where they locked and heated with a sensual challenge. A dark eyebrow lifted. The message was clear. “I’m game if you are.”

  She’d never used her femininity to get what she wanted, but couldn’t deny it was useful. Regardless of whether she was human or fae, he was attracted to her, and that gave her a little power.

  The memory of the two sides of the mountain came back to her. One dead. One living. She’d sworn this time, she’d do things differently. No more manipulating, sneaking, or lying. Her darkest truth was out there, and the world hadn’t crumbled. This fae hadn’t looked at her with bone deep scorn, and if she did this... use her body to get what she wanted... then she was back to old tricks.

  For a single insane moment, she wished she could see her own future, then she would know exactly what was in store between her and the fae. But as usual, nothing stronger than a flutter or buzz vibes influenced her own life. Warnings. That was all. And she got nothing where he was concerned. That should be a good thing, she supposed.

  He thought she was his enemy, but he wasn’t hers.

  “I want to know about the stakes,” she pushed, and gestured to the sticks.

  Tension diffused, he closed his eyes again. “You seem to know it all. Guess.”

  She glanced around. Okay. A test. Maybe she wanted the same thing. So she took a deep breath and focused on the sticks. They had stones wrapped to the tops with a leather cord. She’d not noticed in the light, but now the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, the stones resonated with luminescence.

  “Solar powered lights?” she asked, but the moment the words came out, she knew they were wrong. Like a lightning strike that turned her thoughts to dreams and dreams into reality, she knew the answer. “No. They’re more than that. They’re for protection. From what?”

  He opened one eye and then closed it. “Get some rest, human. The nights are brief in this part of the woods.” He paused, his breath evening out as he slipped deeper into relaxation. Just before she thought he was asleep, he mumbled, “And don’t listen to the wind.”

  “Why not?”

  “It listens back.”

  Shit. She cast a wary glance into the darkness beyond the bracket of trees. Things seemed to stare back at her. Things she couldn’t see, onl
y sense. Shivering, she wrapped his borrowed cape around her shoulders and laid down in the cramped space provided by the luminescent stakes. She tried to ignore the buzzing bugs in the air, and the phantom itches up her sleeves and legs. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, and when the wind whispered inaudible words, she shuffled closer to her sleeping captor, irritated that he knew this would happen and that’s why he’d cut the binds on her hands. She needed his protection. Even knowing all this, she was fast becoming accustomed to the notion he wasn’t the monster he made himself out to be.

  She shuffled closer.

  Chapter Ten

  A snuffling and scratching to Clarke’s right made her snap awake. The silhouette of a man back-lit by dawn hovered over her. She blinked and recognized Rush’s face, inches from hers. Was he coming in for a morning cuddle? Her languid body didn’t object to that, even if some still waking part of her mind did. He smelled good. Like comfort. She held her breath and smiled tentatively. But then...

  Amusement flashed in his eyes. “I’d love to play, princess, but a warada is about to eat you.”

  He kept moving. She held up her hands for protection, but he sailed right over her body and stabbed something to her right. A shrill squawking filled the air, grinding her nerves.

  Oh, my God. What is that?

  Scrubbing her face, she blinked and then felt sick when she saw what squirmed beneath Rush’s sword. His biceps bulged through his jacket, straining to pin a hog-like beast to the ground. The wild, writhing animal was only a foot from where Clarke had lain. With sharp teeth, mandibles and leathery black skin, the animal was a cross between a boar and an insect. It had a barrel chest, sharp claws and six legs. If that thing had gotten to her…

  Rush had saved her life.

  The creature still writhed and screamed beneath Rush’s sword. Its cries grated down Clarke’s bones. Rush twisted his sword to anchor it to the ground. She tried not to look at the ominous stain blooming beneath the beast. If she closed her eyes, it sounded like a normal animal in pain. Maybe it was.