The Lost Years

by Shaw, Natalie

  “Why did you enter Lawler territory? Are you here to challenge our Alpha?”

  “What? No. I'm just passing through.”

  “Going where?”

  “Nowhere. What does it matter? I don't have a pack or territory.”

  “Why did you become a lone wolf? Are you searching for something?” He hesitated. “Or someone?”

  “I've been looking for an ugly, cowardly scum bag. Now I've found you, I guess I can call off the search.”

  “We can do this the easy way. Or we can do it the hard way.”

  “Guess it's going to have to be the hard way.”

  “Very well.

  The tall shifter left the room.

  It made no sense. Why keep him alive? Why had they asked if he was looking for someone? Unless they already knew the answer.

  “Are you sure you don't want to change your mind?” The tall shifter returned holding the same dart gun they'd used to knock Craven out in the cave.

  “Go fuck yourself!”

  “I'll take that as a 'no'.”

  *********

  When he came around, he was in a room almost identical to the one he'd been in earlier. His hands were clamped high above his head; his feet were clamped to the floor. To his right, was a long wooden bench on which lay all manner of implements including: a saw, several knifes, scalpels, pliers, hypodermic needles, a baseball bat, and what looked like an electric prod.

  “You could save yourself a lot of pain by answering my questions,” the tall shifter said. Standing next to him was a much older male who deliberately avoided all eye contact with Craven.

  “Go fuck yourself.” Craven spat the words.

  “It's time to teach you some manners, I think.”

  The tall shifter said something to his associate, who then walked over to the bench. When he returned, he was carrying the electric prod.

  “Last chance,” the tall shifter said.

  “Which part of go fuck yourself don't you understand?”

  The first shock made Craven jerk back hard against the wall. The second shock made his legs buckle, so he was held up only by his wrist clamps.

  “Okay. I'll try again,” the tall shifter came a little closer. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Your mother.” Craven pulled himself back to his feet. “She still give good head?”

  Another shock. This time the prod was held to his chest much longer. Craven clamped his teeth together and wondered if the pain would ever end.

  “Where is she?”

  His brain was almost in shut-down, but he still caught the significance of the question:

  where is she?

  They knew he was looking for Louise. This wasn't about his incursion into Lawler territory. Who were his captors?

  The next shock was more powerful and continued until Craven had lost consciousness.

  *********

  Craven had no idea how long he'd been out. It felt like a jack-hammer was at work inside his head. He was slumped almost onto his knees. Most of his weight was being borne by his arms, which felt like they were being pulled from their sockets. After a few moments, he managed to struggle to his feet which took some of the pressure off his arms.

  The door opened, and his two torturers stepped back into the room.

  “Ready to talk yet?” the taller one said.

  Craven didn't respond. He needed to preserve what remaining strength he had.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  Craven closed his eyes, and readied himself for the pain which was to come. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, and he no longer cared. All that mattered was he'd die knowing Louise was still alive.

  The impact knocked Craven back onto his knees. Excruciating pain exploded through the right-hand side of his body. The smaller of the two shifters was wielding the baseball bat. Craven tried to shuffle away, but he could not escape the second strike. His breathing became laboured, and he wondered if his lung had been punctured. It would only take a couple of blows to the head from that club to finish him off. Right now, that would come as a relief.

  “You're going to tell us sooner or later.” The tall shifter was still doing all of the talking.

  His words came at Craven through an ocean of pain. Craven prayed for the moment when his brain would shut down and he could escape the hurt.

  *********

  At first, Craven wasn't even sure he'd heard the noise. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness, and was no longer sure what was real. Then he heard it again. He managed to raise his head, and could see the two shifters staring at the door. They'd heard it too. There was some kind of commotion coming from outside. Whatever it was, Craven gave thanks for the respite it brought.

  Loud scratching could be heard at the door. That was quickly followed by an all-mighty thud. The impact was so strong that the door bowed. The two shifters exchanged a glance full of uncertainty. The older one readied the baseball bat while the other grabbed the electric prod. The next thud took the door almost off one of its hinges. Under the next impact, the door crashed to the floor.

  The wolf was on the two shifters before they had a chance to use their weapons or to shift into wolf form. Quickly and efficiently, the wolf tore out their throats. Neither man even had a chance to scream. The wolf then turned to face Craven.

  There was no escape—Craven's arms and legs were still secured by the shackles. The wolf's eyes felt as though they were burning into Craven's very soul. At least he would go to his death knowing that Louise was alive.

  Craven watched through bleary eyes as the wolf shifted into human form. He didn't recognise the male shifter.

  “Which one has the keys?” the shifter said.

  Craven shook his head.

  The shifter threw nervous glances at the open doorway as he searched the bodies for the keys. After a few moments, Craven heard the rattle of a key chain.

  “Once you're free, you'll need to shift into your wolf. That will heal the worst of your injuries.

  “Who are you?” Craven asked.

  The shifter didn't answer. Instead he set about undoing each lock. When he'd unfastened the last one, which had been securing Craven's left arm, Craven fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Get up!” the shifter yelled. “You have to shift to your wolf now. The alarm has been raised. They'll be on us in a few minutes.”

  “I can't,” Craven managed to say.

  “Yes you can! Come on!” The shifter pressed his foot gently onto Craven's rib cage sending a wave of pain through his body. If you don't shift now, we'll both be dead.

  Craven still didn't move.

  “Louise is waiting for you.”

  Those words stung him back to life. From somewhere he managed to find the strength to stand. “Where is she?”

  “Later. First we need to get out of here. She's safe—I promise. You have to shift now, before it's too late.”

  Craven had a million questions, but no time to ask them. With his last vestiges of strength, he managed to begin the shifting process. His body was so weak it took much longer than it normally would. When the transformation was complete, he stood unsteadily on all-fours. Although he was still in some pain, and was extremely weak, the worst of his injuries had healed.

  “We have to go now,” his rescuer said, before he too shifted back into wolf form.

  Craven followed the other wolf along a maze of corridors until they reached another door, which was also off its hinges. Craven assumed his rescuer must have entered the building this way. Once outside, the other wolf made straight for a narrow track which wound its way up a steep hillside. Craven struggled to keep pace, and was soon some fifty metres behind. When the other wolf sensed Craven was no longer close behind, he stopped and waited for him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I'm fine. You go on ahead. I'll catch up.”

  Twenty minutes later, Craven had lost sight of his rescuer. He still had the wolf's scent though, so kept on r
unning as fast as his busted body would allow. He skirted the top of the hill and began the descent into the next valley. He was almost on them, before he realised what was happening. Twenty metres ahead, his rescuer, still in wolf form, was standing in an area of open ground. Four other wolves surrounded him. His rescuer was turning around slowly on the spot—his gaze shifting from one wolf to the next as he waited to see which one would make the first move. The four wolves all caught Craven's scent at the same instant. One of them howled, and the other quickly joined in. Craven sensed his rescuer tell him to: Go! Save yourself!

  That was never going to happen. Craven had no idea who his rescuer was, but he'd saved him from a slow painful death. For that alone he would have stayed to fight by his side. More importantly, his rescuer knew Louise, and might even know her whereabouts. There was no way Craven was going to walk away from this fight. He edged closer to the group.

  One of the four wolves pounced on Craven's rescuer. A second wolf quickly joined in that attack. The other two wolves turned their attention to Craven. He braced himself—ready for them to make their move. They were clever, and co-ordinated their attack to hit Craven at exactly the same moment. He had to make a split-second decision. He couldn't fend off both of them, so he focussed on the larger of the two—the one who was most likely to cause maximum damage. Craven caught the larger wolf with a side blow to the head which sent him reeling across the open ground. No sooner had he done that than he felt the smaller of the two wolves land squarely on his back. He could feel the wolf's breath on the back of his neck, and knew he had only seconds before the wolf's teeth tore open his throat. Craven rolled over. First onto his side, then onto his back, and then onto his other side. That dislodged the smaller wolf.

  Craven glanced across at the other battle. His rescuer had survived the initial attack, and was now in a face-to-face stand-off with the two wolves.

  The small wolf sank its teeth into Craven's rear left leg. Craven kicked out—sending the wolf crashing into a tree trunk. The larger wolf charged Craven, but he was ready for the attack. They rolled along the ground—their legs locked together as both of them tried to reach the other's throat. Craven summoned every ounce of his strength, and managed to push one of his adversary's paws to one side. That was all the opportunity Craven needed. Before the wolf could recover, Craven had dealt the death blow. The large wolf slumped to the ground, its chest red with the blood oozing from its throat. The small wolf was still game, but no match for Craven. One blow sent the small wolf to the ground. Craven quickly pounced on the stricken wolf —despatching it with some ease.

  Craven turned to see his rescuer standing between the motionless bodies of the other two wolves. Even from that distance, Craven could see he had sustained serious injuries.

  “Are you okay?” Craven asked.

  “I'll survive. We'd better get going—.”

  His words were interrupted by a rumbling sound.

  Both of them looked back up the hill to see dozens of wolves racing towards them.

  “We have to split up,” his rescuer said.

  “No. We'll stand and fight together.”

  “There's too many of them. We have to try to outrun them. You go west, I'll go south-west.”

  “Where will we meet up?”

  “They won't follow us into the next territory. Make your way to Praja territory, and I'll meet you in Weardale Grove.

  “But—”

  “We have to go now.”

  Craven knew he was right. It was their best chance of survival, but he was reluctant to let go of the one person who might know where Louise was.

  As they set off in different directions, Craven reflected on his rescuer. He didn't even know his name. Who was he and why had he come to his rescue? How did he know Louise? Had she sent him?

  *********

  Craven had been in Weardale Grove for two days. Even though he'd been carrying injuries, he'd managed to outpace the wolves that had chased him only as far as their territory's border. By now, he knew for certain that his rescuer hadn't made it—he'd sacrificed his life to save him. Craven was once again certain that Louise was still alive, but he was no nearer to knowing where she was. If only his rescuer had been able to tell him more before he was killed.

  The sensible thing to do would be to get as far away as possible, but there was something he had to do first. Craven re-entered Lawler territory via the unguarded coastal border. From there, he found the stream, and followed it until he reached Coral's cave. He was racked with guilt for having brought his troubles to her door. She'd carved out an idyllic life living predominately in wolf-form, and had survived that way for months until his arrival had destroyed it all. If she'd left him to die, she could have continued to live peacefully.

  He walked hesitantly toward the cave—afraid of what he might find. His last memory, before the dart knocked him out, was of the shifter's claw held to Coral's throat.

  Craven took a deep breath and stepped inside. It was just as he'd left it. There was no sign of Coral, and no blood stains on the floor. If they'd killed her, they hadn't done it in the cave.

  “Coral!” He called from the mouth of the cave.

  No response.

  For the next hour he walked along the edge of the stream—calling out her name—still no response.

  Perhaps they'd expelled her from the territory—he hoped so. He'd come close to accepting her invitation to stay. It had only been the fragile hope Louise might still be alive which had stopped him. His rescuer had now confirmed it hadn't been a false hope.

  His fated mate was still alive—his search continued.

  Part 7 – LOUISE (2005)

  Chapter 20

  I said goodbye to our apartment—would I ever see it again? Other than Pirus, I hadn't told anyone that I was leaving. If I had, they'd have tried to talk me out of it, but my mind was made up. The thought of returning to the Maja, after so many years away, terrified me. Pirus was right—it was suicidal, but what choice did I have? How could I live with myself if I didn't at least try to bring Marlow back?

  Just travelling back to the Maja territory was risky enough. I could still recall the route we'd taken when Marlow and I fled from Milton. We'd skirted around the territories of most of the major packs. We'd been lucky, and managed to avoid any major confrontations. Back then, there had been two of us. This time, I was travelling alone, and would be much more vulnerable. I decided it would be safer and quicker to make the journey in human form. Last time, it had taken us two days. In a car, if I kept my foot to the floor, and avoided trouble, I figured I could do it in less than twelve hours.

  I had plenty of time to think during the long drive back to Maja. I remembered the night I'd spent with Craven. That had been the worst and best day of my life. The worst because my father had been murdered. The best because I had joined with my fated mate. Could that really be thirty years ago now? When I'd awoken on the morning after my one and only night with my fated mate, I'd assumed we were about to start our new life together. How could I have known that within hours I'd be snatched away—never to see him again?

  My pulse began to race as soon as I drove into Maja territory. As I got closer to the city centre, every pair of eyes which glanced my way set me more on edge. As the daughter of the Alpha, my face had been well known. Shifters age only slowly—thirty years had made very little difference to my appearance. It would only need one shifter to recognise me to set the alarm bells ringing. Then there was the question of who I could trust. I'd no idea if the friends I'd once had in Maja were still alive—there had been much bloodshed under Milton's reign. Even if they were, I wasn't sure if they'd view me as a traitor—Milton had spread a lot of misinformation. Chances were that most of them probably thought I was dead.

  “Louise?” Max looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Come in.”

  He stared at me for a few moments without speaking, and then said, “I thought you
were dead. They told us you'd been killed.”

  “As you can see, that was a lie.”

  “One of many. Sit down. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

  “Just a glass of water please.”

  While Max went into the kitchen, I walked over to the bookcase and picked up the framed photograph.

  I still miss her,” he said, when he returned with my drink.

  “Me too.”

  Tish's familiar smile beamed at me from the photograph.

  “I loved her,” he said.

  “I know. She loved you too.” I put the photograph back onto the bookcase. “Have you found yourself a mate?”

  “No. I've dated a few, but it never seems to work out—they aren't Tish.” He hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “You were there when it happened, weren't you? At Jesters?”

  “Yes.”

  “What exactly did happen? The authorities said it was a random attack by a few wayward vampires, but I've never believed that.”

  “It was no random attack. It had been well planned and co-ordinated. They completely overran the club.”

  “Did you see what happened to Tish?”

  In my mind's eye, I could see the vampire with his arm around her neck as she struggled to break free. I could see her neck and breasts stained red with blood.

  “No, sorry.” I lied. “I was lucky to escape.”

  He was silent for a few moments, and then said, “Things have gone to hell since your father died.”

  “He was murdered.”

  “That's what a lot of people thought at the time, but the authorities denied it.”

  “I was there. I saw Drake, one of Milton's men, at my father's apartment. He was with a vampire. The attack on Jesters had been a diversion. The whole thing had been meticulously planned, so Milton could take my father's place.”