Nomad Redeemed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 2)

by Craig Martelle

  “Thank you,” Marcus added as an afterthought, having already walked away, making a beeline for the indicated place.

  When he arrived, he knocked on the door and waited. Then he knocked harder, almost pounding on the door. When it opened, the initially angry face quickly transformed into a radiant smile as the beautiful woman looked up at him.

  In human form, Marcus was a beast, towering toward six feet eight inches and built like a professional wrestler. His massive frame was topped with short black hair. He had bushy eyebrows under which his yellow eyes peered. He held out a hand into which Felicity’s dainty counterpart disappeared.

  “I’m looking for someone in charge. I’ve just arrived and have some questions.” Marcus smiled graciously. He wouldn’t mind adding this one to his stable. It had been a while since he’d had a human woman, usually they couldn’t handle his vigor, but this one seemed to glow with a certain energy.

  He’d consider it.

  “You’ll want to talk with Billy Spires,” she drawled slowly as she looked him up and down. It had been a long time since anyone showed such appreciation. “I didn’t get your name, handsome stranger?”

  “I’m Marcus. And you, beautiful stranger?”

  “Felicity, and my, you are something. Follow me,” she said, swinging her hips as she turned and headed inside.

  “My pleasure,” Marcus flirted, feeling a little of his old self returning.

  Felicity made a show of opening the door to the study and smiled seductively as he made his way past her, locking eyes with the smaller man at the other end of the table. Marcus trailed a finger along Felicity’s arm as he squeezed by her in the doorway. He felt her shiver.

  Good.

  He’d never taken his eyes from the man she’d called Billy Spires.

  Billy looked back through narrowed eyes, trying not to be intimidated by the immense being who had just walked into his office.

  Marcus pulled a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat on it backwards as Terry Henry often did.

  “Billy dear, this is Marcus. He’s newly arrived and has some questions for you.”

  “Leave us. Close the door on your way out,” Billy ordered, ice forming on every word. Felicity hesitated for only a moment, scowling darkly at Billy from behind the safety of the newcomer. She left and gently closed the door, hoping that Marcus appreciated her dignity and grace.

  * * *

  TH took a knee next to the remains of the hunter. There was almost nothing left of the horse beside him. At least it was cool enough that the stench wasn’t overwhelming.

  Terry looked at how the man’s chest had been torn apart by the jaws of an animal and noticed the bear’s tracks around in the dirt. “This wasn’t our bear, was it?”

  Terry could see that the wound wasn’t fresh.

  Char had turned a milky shade of white as she looked at the body. She leaned closer and sniffed.

  Were saliva. Marcus’s saliva. None of the others. They had eaten the horse, but only Marcus had eaten the man.

  “The alpha, my mate, he did this.” Terry’s lip curled in disgust thinking of Char with a Werewolf that would stoop to tearing out a human’s heart.

  “The pack ate the horse. Let’s find the other. I can smell him, up ahead.” Terry sniffed and couldn’t smell anything except the rotting remains of the man and horse at his feet. Terry found the rifle a few feet away and some loose shells. They recovered their horses, tied a short distance away because the animals shied at the smell of death.

  Terry and Char rode forward quickly, stopping when they got close, and for a second time tied off the horses. This site was different as it had not been disturbed by the bear.

  Char sniffed the area and walked around it like a crime scene investigator. “Were blood. I suspect the hunter shot one of the pack, maybe two. The blood is old and mixed with the horse.” She smelled puke, not far off. Sue. Finally she kneeled next to the man, with Terry leaning over her shoulder. They both studied the injury to the man’s chest. A knife wound, followed by ripping and tearing. The heart had been pulled out.

  Char cried gently, her shoulders drooping as she hung her head. Clyde nuzzled her with his hackles raised. He could smell the Were strangers, and he didn’t like it.

  “He changed into a human and ate this man’s heart like that, one man eating another. This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, ever even heard of.” She choked out the words.

  “And that answers my question. This isn’t normal. What the fuck do we do, Char?” Terry couldn’t look at the man’s remains and not feel fear.

  He turned to the mundane, digging the man’s rifle out from beneath his body. He didn’t find any extra ammunition. The bolt of the hunting rifle was locked back, showing an empty chamber. Were blood. At least the man went down fighting. “Fucking A, my friend.” Terry said, “Fight back with all you have.”

  Terry assumed the position of attention and saluted the man. Char didn’t understand.

  “He’s dead,” she said simply.

  He slowly dropped his salute, “And he died as a warrior, fighting past his last bullet. He deserves to be honored. It is the least we can do for him, because I’m not staying here to bury him. He’ll be food for the birds, the scavengers, until his bones disappear into the ground in the decades ahead,” Terry replied, returning to his horse to stash the rifle with the other. “Let’s recover that bear. We still need to eat, and I want that hide as a rug in Margie Rose’s living room. That floor is going to be cold this winter.”

  Char started to smile as if she had a good comeback, but then looked at the mess her mate had left behind, reminded of the mess that he’d become, and it sickened her. Terry put a hand on her back and rubbed gently, feeling that her muscles were tighter than usual.

  “Come on, Char. We have stuff to do and none of it is here…”

  * * *

  Felicity stayed outside the door, listening as Marcus wove an elaborate tale of his storied past, of travels through the mountains, following the elk for food. And then he dropped the big one.

  He’d become separated from his wife and wondered if she’d made her way into town, a tall woman with purple eyes.

  Felicity’s jaw hit the floor. She couldn’t see, but suspected that Billy was equally shocked. Why, that little vixen never mentioned a husband, and a strapping one at that, Felicity thought.

  Billy recovered quicker than Felicity.

  “Why yes, she showed up quite a while ago. She is safe, as my security chief is protecting her,” Billy said, trying to be diplomatic. Despite Terry’s denials, Billy was convinced there was something going on between those two. But he had just grown accustomed to Terry Henry and didn’t want to lose him. There was no way anyone could survive a fight with the monster that sat at the other end of Billy’s table.

  “I hope you are pleased that she is quite safe and healthy. She’s been an important part of our community ever since she arrived, even helping us immensely with an issue regarding our neighbors to the south,” Billy said cryptically, not wanting to offend the man by telling him they had put her on the front lines of their battle with Sawyer Brown. That kind of protection would not be well received, Billy expected.

  “She is always so helpful. If you can tell me where she is, then I’d like to collect her, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Collect her, Felicity repeated to herself, liking the big man less and less by the moment.

  “She’s not here right now. They took two horses and went north, to check out a new hunting ground up that way,” Billy said, smiling to put Marcus at ease, but the big man’s yellow eyes narrowed and his brow furled. His lip quivered as it turned into a snarl.

  “When will they be back?” he growled.

  Billy was under no illusions that he could defend himself from this man. Billy had grown used to Terry Henry’s presence and had stopped bringing a firearm into the room where he met with the townspeople. He was unarmed and faced a man easily twice his si
ze.

  “I don’t know,” Billy said, barely above a whisper.

  Marcus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could smell the female just outside the door. Her pheromones had changed from intensely sensual to fear.

  Pity.

  When he opened his eyes again, he had calmed himself. No better place to wait than with the man who seemed to know what was going on. “Tell me about this place. How did you come to build such a civilization from the ruins of the world? You have electricity! You should be proud of yourself, Billy Spires, for what you’ve accomplished. I’d like to hear more, if you would be so kind.”

  Billy hesitated, but started with his early life. It had been a while since he told anyone the stories. They weren’t very impressive. He survived and that was that, but this was an opportunity to embellish, work on his legacy as the first mayor, governor, maybe even president in this new world. Once Billy got rolling, there was no stopping him.

  Felicity went upstairs, shaking her head the whole way.

  * * *

  Terry was a madman cleaning the bear, flying through the process because he wanted to be on his way. He gutted it and cut off the head and feet, then split the beast in half. It took their combined strength to put the front half of the carcass behind one saddle, then the back half behind the other. Clyde seemed to be right at home around the bear. He nipped at it, barking and playing. He helped himself to some choice tidbits from the entrails.

  “Damn dog!” Terry said, still chagrined that Clyde wouldn’t taste his beer.

  Char’s mood hadn’t changed. The darkness of what happened in that valley hung over her head like a storm cloud.

  Once the bear was loaded, they rode downhill quickly, reached the road, turned right, and headed toward New Boulder at a quick trot.

  “I wonder if Blaine made it back,” Terry said, trying to make small talk, but Char wasn’t having it. She kept her thoughts to herself as they rode toward town.

  When they got close, she sat up straight and stared into the distance. “We have a problem,” she groaned.

  * * *

  Marcus listened quietly, killing time. The more Billy talked, the more Marcus wanted to eat the little man’s heart. But then he felt the spark. He closed his eyes and reached out.

  Char had returned.

  Marcus didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He stood up and walked out, leaving Billy speechless and frozen, but only for a moment.

  The mayor bolted out the back door of his office, heading straight for the armory. He unlocked it and pulled his trusty rifle, the AK-74, the one that could fire the NATO rounds. He checked the magazine to ensure it was loaded, then inserted it, front first, rotating it toward the back until it seated. He pulled the bolt back, then let it go to send a round into the chamber.

  Carrying the rifle before him, he walked carefully to the front door, which hung open after Marcus’s hasty departure. Felicity was descending the stairs. “Get back upstairs and lock the door!” he shouted.

  Felicity felt a strange sensation. Billy was going to protect her from the big man, put his small body between Marcus and her. She held her head proudly as she ran back up the stairs, into the bedroom, and locked the door behind her. She continued to the window and looked out.

  Marcus stood at the street corner, looking north toward the power plant.

  Billy stood on the steps below, rifle ready but not aimed. Marcus seemed oblivious to him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Your mate?” Terry’s lip curled as he said the words. Char nodded without looking in his direction. When Char moved in under Margie Rose’s roof with Terry, he had taken a silver coin, melted it, and dripped the silver onto one of his knives. It was the only thing he had to defend himself from a Werewolf.

  He could see Char’s color change to a shade of red as the anger grew within. The horses walked at a steady pace, past the power plant and toward Billy’s house.

  When they spotted Marcus, Char growled, feral, bestial.

  “You gotta be shitting me,” Terry blurted as he saw the immense man who stood waiting for them, arms at his side, fists clenched. “Fuck me.”

  Clyde brayed and barked

  Char didn’t say anything, but stopped her horse when they were still twenty feet away. Terry felt that he sat almost eye-to-eye with the Werewolf alpha, even though he was sitting on a horse.

  The bigger they are… he thought, trying to console himself. It wasn’t working. Once past the initial intimidation, Terry studied the man, clinically. He had to have weaknesses.

  Everyone did, even Werewolves.

  “Why don’t you come closer, give us a kiss, honey,” Marcus said, watching the human at her side. He could sense something different about that one, but couldn’t put his finger on it. Terry glared back at the big man, letting adrenaline surge into his body as it prepared itself to fight the enemy.

  No one had to be an expert in body language to read Char’s abject hatred for the creature before her.

  They stood looking at each other before Marcus turned his attention toward the security chief. The Werewolf strolled forward with his hands up. Terry continued to cradle his M4 combat rifle.

  Marcus thrust out a massive paw. Terry was torn, but with his left hand on the trigger, Terry grabbed the man’s hand, a mistake he quickly learned. Marcus was the alpha and unable to do anything other than establish dominance. Terry Henry Walton was a challenger who needed to be put in his place.

  Marcus brought his full power to bear in an effort to crush the human’s hand. Terry fought back, gritting his teeth with his effort. The nanocytes surged into the muscles of his arm. The two achieved a minor stalemate, but that didn’t last long. Terry felt his hand getting squeezed beyond his capacity to stop it.

  Char leapt from her horse, moved behind Marcus in a flash, and punched him in the kidney with everything she had. He let go and turned, crouching.

  Terry aimed his rifle one handed. He couldn’t miss such a large target at this close of a range. He flexed his numb right hand until he was able to pull his silvered blade. Terry Henry Walton prepared himself to dive from the horse.

  Char snarled, hands up, dancing like a boxer ready to wade into the middle of the ring.

  Marcus recognized the challenge, but now was not the time. He stood up and held his hands out in front of himself.

  “I apologize. Sometimes I get overzealous with my size. I hope that I didn’t hurt you,” Marcus said, looking at Terry.

  Terry Henry Walton couldn’t miss the opportunity to get in a jab. He turned and looked behind himself, then pointed at his own chest. “What, me? You think you hurt me? I was going to apologize to you,” he countered. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. Char put her hands on her hips and glared.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked sharply, accusingly.

  “Just coming to pick up the love of my life so we can be on our way. So, come along now, time to go.” He didn’t give her any choice. She crossed her arms and stood defiantly.

  “I’m not quite ready yet. You go along. I’ll catch up later,” she replied.

  Marcus’s forced smile disappeared. “I think you’re ready now.”

  “No. And that’s all I’m going to take from you. Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” she snapped.

  “I think it’s going to snow,” Terry said as he eased his horse between the two Werewolves. “How about we go inside and talk about his like adults. This bear isn’t getting cooked while it sits on the back of these horses. Maybe you can help carry this haunch inside, big man. I’d be grateful for the help.”

  “Why don’t you curl yourself into a little frightened ball so I can kick your ass out of this conversation.” Marcus showed his teeth as he glowered at Terry.

  “I think Charumati told you to move on, so why don’t you do just that. Just because we don’t want a fight doesn’t mean we won’t.” Terry rotated his knife blade so a glint of silver flashed into the alpha�
�s eyes.

  Billy Spires had moved to the far side of the road, giving himself a clear line of fire to the newcomer. Billy aimed and held steady, then dropped to a knee as the posturing continued.

  “Fuck off, asslick,” Marcus growled.

  A weakness, Terry told himself. Maybe it’s not the best tactic to drive a Werewolf into a rage. Nice wolfie…

  “Why don’t you fuck off?” Char countered, stepping beyond the horse, who had started prancing while being so close to two angry Werewolves. Terry dismounted, stepped aside, and slapped the horse, making it run, not far, but far enough.

  Terry angled away, surrounding Marcus. The alpha looked from one of his adversaries to the other, his yellow eyes fixing on Terry’s silver blade. He wondered if the strange human knew he and Char were Werewolves.

  He had to. Who else carried a silver weapon? Marcus sniffed toward Terry, sure that the human wasn’t of the Were world, but he was different. His hand should have been crushed under Marcus’s great strength.

  It wasn’t. Char was right, damn the bitch. It wasn’t the time.

  “This isn’t over,” he said as he straightened and slowly backed out of the circle. He turned and headed down the road toward the mountains, jogging at first, but then running, faster and faster until he hit Were speed and disappeared. Clyde ran after him for a short way, barking his dismay, but Terry called the dog back.

  Char and Terry looked at each other knowingly, while Billy remained on the outside looking in.

  “What the fuck was that all about? Who in God’s creation is that cockwad?” Billy asked, flustered and still aiming his rifle at the road Marcus had taken on his way from town.

  “That cockwad is my ex-husband, and you can believe that he will be back. He doesn’t like to lose…at anything.” She remained motionless, looking toward the hills.

  “Bear? It’ll be good it if doesn’t rot from all of us just standing here, not processing it. A little help?” Terry asked as he started to untie the carcass. Blood ran down the backs of both horses.

  Terry pulled the two rifles from where he’d stuffed them between the saddle and the bear. Handing the rifles to Billy, he decided that Billy didn’t need to know anything else.