The Dead Wolves: An Ashwood Novel (Cursed and Damned Book 1)

by Lee Dignam

  Images of claws cutting through the air, slicing paths across the falling rain, flashed through her mind. There had been three men, or maybe four. One of them, at least, was a vampire—probably the others, too. They said I’d had a blood hunt called on me, and then I turned into bats. That was it. She had been chased, and then she had thrown herself off a building and taken flight.

  She looked around, searching for the highest peak on this blasted rock in the middle of the bay and climbed it. With the city in her sights, and the picture clutched within her right hand, she allowed herself to get as much of a running start as possible. Then she leapt into the night, arms stretched, eyes closed.

  But the bats didn’t come, and she hit the smooth rocks hard, cracking a rib and bruising her shoulder. Cyanide screamed, more out of frustration than pain, and picked herself up, panting. She threw her eyes up at the rocky peak above and forced herself to rise and climb it again. This time, she let her mind settle and calm itself—let images of Daniel and Neo fill her head. She needed to get to them, to talk to them, and she needed to do it before the sun came up. This was as much life and death as what had happened yesterday, maybe more so.

  A rogue breeze picked her hair up and pulled it. Cyanide shut her eyes and took a couple of careful paces backwards. Pushing her legs to move, she almost couldn’t feel the resistance of her own weight, or the wind in front of her. When she leapt, she didn’t feel herself rise or fall. Instead, her body began to vibrate, and the air lifted her up as if she were floating.

  She could see, though not with her eyes. Sounds reached her ears, but she didn’t have two ears anymore—she had hundreds, stretched over a substantial distance. And when she closed her fingers around the picture, it wasn’t a hand that clutched it, but the feet of several tiny bats. Part of the swarm. Part of her.

  The bats carried her across the bay, only this time it was different; this time, she was in control.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Flying was an altogether alien experience, and would have been incredibly unsettling had she not already done this once before, even if she wasn’t in the driver’s seat that first time. This wasn’t anything like being on a plane. It wasn’t even like shape-shifting into a smaller, singular, winged form—like a bird, or a lone bat. That she could get her head around. Werewolves did it all the time, didn’t they?

  But she wasn’t a werewolf, and she hadn’t taken the shape of a smaller creature. She was a swarm, an inkblot in the night sky, and where her bats flew, no matter how far, she could hear, and feel, and taste. Though her body had broken apart into hundreds of smaller pieces, her thoughts, oddly, were entirely intact and whole.

  She thought about Daniel, about the picture, and had time to consider—if it was real—what it all meant. And the more she thought about it, the more she started to believe that it truly was her in that picture and not some doppelganger. Memories of déjà vu after having met certain strangers, or having visited different places around the city, weren’t far from the idea that she was older than she knew, and that her memories were somehow suppressed.

  It was ridiculous, though, wasn’t it? She had been turned two years ago and dumped in an alley. Neo had found her, cold, alone, and thirsty, and had helped her get back on her feet. Memories from before the night she was turned were, despite her best efforts, entirely inaccessible. It wasn’t that they were gone—they were there, she knew they were—but something was stopping her from reaching them. Perhaps the trauma of having been turned and abandoned like that.

  It wasn’t a crazy idea. Certainly not crazier than the thought that she had been dead since the 1950’s or more, and that someone had blocked her memories, causing her to assume an entirely new identity. What was she like before this happened? Who was she? And if she was someone else before, then who the hell was she now?

  Ashwood came toward her like a ghost in a dream, silently and inevitably. The bats glided across the bay, swooping high above tankers and freight ships, then swerving around cranes, and finally ducking into the thick of the urban jungle, strafing around and over buildings, all at Cyanide’s command. She was like the air itself, fluid and imperceptible, the swarm changing its shape to adjust to, and bypass, any obstacle in their way.

  It occurred to her, as the streets beneath her started to look more familiar, that she had absolutely no idea how to land, let alone assume her human form. Panic wormed its way into her stomach as the laundromat where the Dead Wolves held their private meetings came into view. Instead of dropping directly to the ground, she set her sights on a nearby rooftop that was covered in multiple power lines.

  The bats did as she bid, and turned toward the rooftop, descending quickly upon it. She wanted to reform, to take human shape, and she made clear to her body what her intention was, but the bats wouldn’t stop or slow down. They continued zooming toward the rooftop, clicking as they went and making the surrounding area come into much sharper focus in her mind.

  The first bat landed, grabbed onto a power line with its feet, and hung from it. Another followed, and another, and another. Soon, the entire swarm had transformed into something of a cone, and it was as if the bats were being funneled into it by the handful. As the seconds passed, Cyanide’s senses began to dull, losing that super-clear focus they had gained in the instant before landing and deteriorating way past what she had been accustomed to while she was flying.

  For a number of seconds, Cyanide was blind and deaf, and then she wasn’t. Her ability to hear returned in a powerful rush of distant sirens, barking dogs, and cars rolling down the street below. She opened her eyes, and the city lay before her—bright, sharp, and majestic in its own right.

  The picture fluttered in front of her eyes, and she reached out and plucked it from the air, staring at it again to make sure she hadn’t imagined what she had seen. Daniel and Cyanide smiled back at her from across the depths of time.

  She willed her feet to move, reaching for an upright pole to help her with her balance, and slowly made it to the edge of the building. The laundromat was there. The street was as busy as expected since it was still relatively early in the night. She had hoped to see Neo’s Trans Am parked nearby, but it was nowhere to be found, and that meant he wasn’t here.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, she crossed the length of the roof and climbed down the side fire escape, letting herself drop the last floor down and landing on her feet in the alley below. From there, she walked briskly across the street, pushed her way into the laundromat, and moved toward the unmarked door at the back, which opened without any resistance.

  Daniel stood bolt-upright when he saw her. “Cyanide…” he said, like he couldn’t believe she was here.

  “Yeah,” she said, “Mostly.”

  “My God. Where have you been?”

  “I wish I could tell you.”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just… complicated.”

  She suddenly became fully aware of her appearance. The jeans Pixi had loaned her were filthy and torn in places, her hair was mottled and dirty, and she wasn’t wearing shoes. Daniel had been examining Cyanide at the same time she had been taking stock of herself. When she turned her eyes back to him, he was already mobile, circling the table in the middle of the room and heading toward her. He took her into an embrace, through which she remained stiff, and he quickly released her.

  “Wait here,” he said, “I’ll get you some fresh clothes from upstairs.”

  He was gone only a couple of minutes, barely long enough for Cyanide to move toward the table, go around it, and glance at the laptop screen. He had been reading an email, but before she could get close enough to see its contents, he returned with a small pile of clothes in his hands. She wasn’t sure, but the words blood hunt may have been on the screen. This set her on edge.

  “Here,” he said, handing the clothes over. They were her own—the ones she had been wearing before she went to Heaven. They smelled clean.

 
“Thanks,” Cyanide said, taking them with her to the side of the room where she could get changed in relative privacy. Daniel turned around to allow her a moment to do so.

  “What happened, Cyanide?”

  “Where do you want me to start?” she asked as she lifted the top over her head and wiggled out of the jeans, leaving her in her underwear.

  “Pixi told me about the fight. We were able to identify one of the guys who assaulted you as Jason, who is little more than a thug with aspirations of being a kingpin. Pixi had to escape after you did, so he’s still walking.”

  “At least we got a few good digs in.”

  “That you did. Then, after that, she said you…”

  “Turned into a swarm of bats. It’s true.”

  “How did you—”

  “Before you ask, I don’t know. I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know how I got to where I went, but I think I know why.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cyanide finished buttoning up her jeans and pulled her shirt down over her head. She had only let go of the picture once, while getting changed, but she picked it up now, turned around, and presented it to Daniel. “I had no control over the bats. They took me to this place, out far beyond the bay somewhere. An island. I found this inside a cave.”

  Daniel slowly approached and took the picture. He stared at it for a long moment, and she saw how his eyebrows pinched together. It wasn’t confusion reflected in his eyes, but surprise, and possibly a little dread, too. “You found this in a cave?” he asked.

  “I did.”

  “I never thought I would see this again.”

  “So, you recognize it?”

  “Of course I do.”

  She felt the sudden urge to lick her lips, to moisten them; a completely human thing to do. “Is that me in the picture?”

  Daniel’s eyes snapped up, as if hearing the question had startled him back to the present. “What?” he asked.

  “Please, don’t dance around this. Tell me the truth. Is that me?”

  “Cyanide…”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Daniel. I’m not in the mood to be dicked around; I deserve the truth.”

  He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to come clean—she could see it on his face. But he didn’t have a choice. She already knew the truth, but she wanted to hear it from him—wanted to see if he had what it took to tell her the truth. Daniel nodded. “It’s you,” he said.

  Her chest tightened, and spiders crawled along her back. Without her knowledge or consent, her hands curled into fists. “How?” she asked.

  “Look, I can’t go into this anymore than I already have.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Won’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ve already said too much,” he said, handing the picture back to her. “All I can tell you is that, yes, this is you, and that is me, and the picture is real. You’re older than you think you are.”

  “So, why the hell can’t I remember anything?”

  “That question has a complicated answer. But trust me when I say, I would never keep you in the dark if I had a choice.”

  “You have a choice. You could give me the answers I want right now; that is your choice. If you aren’t going to give me any answers, though, you better have a damn good reason.”

  He approached, but she took a step away from him in response. Daniel understood the gesture and stayed where he was. “I want to tell you. Really, I do. I want to tell you everything. But right now isn’t the time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because what I have to tell you is delicate and complicated. I can’t just charge into it. You’ll have too many questions and you’ll hate me for not being able to give you the answers you need when you ask for them. We can’t be dealing with that kind of thing right now—we have somewhere to be.”

  “What?” she asked, cocking her head. “What could possibly be more important than this?”

  “Cy… the blood hunt has been called off.”

  The words were like a blow to the gut—the kind that knocks the wind out of a person. “What do you mean?”

  “Count Rufus, he called the blood hunts off. But he’s also convened a meeting of the court—the entire court. That means Neo, me, Pixi, and even you.”

  She felt like all the adrenaline she’d been running on for the past couple nights had quickly left her system. “Do you… have any idea what he’s going to do at this meeting?”

  “No, but not going would be bad for us. For all of us. We have to go.”

  “When is it?”

  “In an hour.”

  “What about Kaitlyn? Any news on her?”

  “None,” he said, sighing. “But I can’t think about her right now. I have to keep my mind focused on what’s been put in front of me. We need to go and find out why Rufus has dropped the blood hunt on Neo.”

  Cyanide nodded, suddenly dropping her defensive posture. “What about me?”

  “What about you?”

  “Last night, the guys who came for me said a blood hunt had been called on me, as well. I assumed it was because of my affiliation with Neo.”

  “What? That isn’t how blood hunts work.”

  “He sounded pretty convincing. I thought, maybe, because I had pushed Mister Red into a dance floor covered in humans, I’d been put on someone’s shit list.”

  “He was lying, likely trying to use you to get to Neo. People know you hang out with him; they see you.”

  “Okay, but how the hell did he find me? It was just us driving around. I hadn’t told anyone where I was.”

  “Some vampires have a knack for finding people.”

  “We sure could use some of that to help find Kaitlyn.”

  “I hired one of the best trackers in all of Ashwood to help find Kaitlyn. Her name is Jinx, and even she came up blank. I think she’s beyond the reach of magic. Either that, or whoever has her locked up is using even stronger magic to hide her.”

  “You don’t think she’s…”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, suddenly turning his intense eyes up at her. “She’s alive, and I’m going to find her. Someone’s just doing a better job at hiding her.”

  Cyanide nodded and turned to head for the door. “What about Neo?” she asked as she reached it, “Have you spoken to him? Does he know about this meeting?”

  “I’ve tried his cell a bunch of times, but he isn’t answering.”

  “Then I’m going to have to go and look for him.”

  “You don’t have time for that. We need to get to the Old Greystone Hotel in less than an hour.”

  “You said yourself everyone has to be there; I need to go and find him.”

  “Cyanide, please.”

  “I’ll be there, okay? We both will.”

  She turned back to the table in the middle of the room and set the picture down on it. “Don’t lose this…” she said. “It’s a nice picture of us.”

  Daniel took it and nodded. She wanted to ask him the question, to hear him give her the answer aloud, to confirm what the note on the back of the picture implied, but she held her tongue and turned around, leaving Daniel in the dark basement, alone with the picture. It seemed to her as if he had forgotten it had even existed until she had unearthed it from its dark, damp resting place. At least he, now, could remember that night.

  For Cyanide, every time she tried and reach into the past, she only came away with smoke clenched between her fingers.

  But it was different for her; she now had something to hold onto—two facts about her unknown past that started to paint a picture of who she was. The first was that Cyanide wasn’t a gutter-rat after all. Once upon a time she was a beautiful, wealthy woman who belonged somewhere. The second was that—unless she had read the note all wrong—she wasn’t just older than Daniel, she had been the one to turn him.

  And this meant, once, she was a Knight, too.

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nbsp; CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Though she needed to move quickly, Cyanide kept the bats locked up this time. Calling the bats, which was the only way she could describe the process of bursting into a clicking, flying swarm, left her drained and lethargic. She hadn’t felt it immediately after waking up at sunset, but maybe that had more to do with the panic of feeling like she was stuck in the middle of nowhere without a means to get home.

  The urgency of the situation had kept her body fired up, and what she had learned in that cave kept her mind distracted. But now, walking back to her place, she had time to listen to her own body. It warned her about the risks of calling the bats too frequently, and reminded her that she wasn’t just hungry, she had gone well past that point.

  Cyanide needed to feed, but she also had to make her way down to the hotel where the Count was holding court. The last thing she wanted to do was miss it, regardless of whether Neo’s blood hunt had stretched to encompass her due to their association or not. This meant she wouldn’t be able to feed until after, and that wasn’t an idea she was entirely thrilled about.

  She found herself speeding up as she made the turn onto her street. Above, crows watched her walk briskly beneath the starless night. From behind tinted windows, men driving slow moving cars watched her, wondering if she was a working girl and how much a couple of minutes with her would set them back.

  More than you can afford, she thought, and the car currently passing her sped away, as if the driver had heard her own inner voice and had been startled by it.

  Neo seemed to show up from out of nowhere. One second there was no one standing on the sidewalk between her and her apartment building door, and then he was there, as if he had manifested out of a cloud of smoke, staring at her. She stopped walking and stared at him too, but didn’t say anything. She knew she’d find him here, but hadn’t thought about what she would say to him when they did finally meet again.

  So much had happened; she wondered how much of it he knew. Neo and Daniel were two very different men, who came from completely opposite backgrounds, but they had worked together when Daniel was in need of the Dead Wolves’ services. She knew they talked, and knew they talked often, but had Daniel told Neo the truth about Cyanide? As far as Neo was concerned, Cyanide was barely more than two years dead. How would the truth affect their relationship?