Moon Burned (The Wolf Wars Book 1)

by H. D. Gordon

  And spelled Wolfsbane was not an easy commodity to come by.

  After he finished with my back and thigh, he turned away while I pulled my shirt back over my head. I watched the muscles in his back work as he repacked his things. When he turned to me, he handed me a green dried herb that I recognized as more Wolfsbane.

  “Chew it,” he said, “and it’ll take even more of the edge off.”

  I stared down at what he’d placed in my hand. Then looked back up at him. “This is expensive stuff. Why are you giving it to me? What do you want for it?”

  “Is it so hard to believe that I’ve just taken a liking to you? You’re very pretty, you know?”

  My jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Or at least I assume you would be, if you had a bath,” he added.

  It was a mixture of anger and embarrassment that made my cheeks flood red. “My apologies if I haven’t had time for proper hygiene between fighting for my life in The Ring and being sold between males like a bag of fucking potatoes,” I snapped.

  The Hound grinned, flashing straight white teeth and making a dimple form on one cheek. “And don’t forget helping a child escape Dogshead in the dead of night.”

  This response had me snapping my mouth shut.

  As he’d known it would.

  Bastard.

  I popped the dried Wolfsbane into my mouth and chewed while I glared at him.

  His handsome face lit up with a smile, and I hated him for it. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  Reluctantly, I nodded.

  I hated him for that, too.

  18

  Apparently growing tired of my grunted responses and glowering in his direction, Ryker told me that I could spend the rest of the ride in this rear cabin, rather than returning to the cart with the other Dogs. He said he had some matters to return to, and left me a meat sandwich and a bottle of water before he slipped out the door and disappeared around the side of the train cart.

  I glared at the stupid sandwich for all of two seconds before tearing open the wrapper and devouring it in about three bites. Then I downed the entire bottle of water. And though the Hound would be receiving no thanks for it, I begrudgingly had to admit that I felt much better.

  With the way my wounds had been festering before, this may very well have marked the third time the Hound had spared my life.

  But to what end? For what gain? Those were the questions that haunted me.

  Despite my total distrust of him, I took him up on the offer to remain in the rear cart rather than returning to the ass-smelling cart that held the rest of the Dogs. I spent so much time breathing in the sweat and stenches of other slaves that I often forgot what clean air smelled like.

  Like seaside and sunshine.

  I cursed that dumb thought as soon as it entered my head.

  Hours passed, and I leaned back against a stack of boxes and suitcases to rest my head, but ended up passing right out. When I awoke, darkness had fallen beyond the small rectangular window set in the door to the cart. For a few stunned moments, I didn’t know where I was.

  Then it all came back to me.

  I was just climbing to my feet to stretch when the door to the cart opened, and Ryker the Hound beckoned me.

  “Come see this,” he said, and again did not wait for me to follow.

  I considered staying put, seeing as how the train was still in motion, but for whatever reason, I sighed and joined him out by the railing, the black sky stretching endlessly above us.

  We were at the bottom of a hill, judging by the angle, but it was hard to tell, because no stars were visible in the dark sky. The only light came from the other side of the hill. I tilted my head back and noted the scent in the air. It smelled like…

  Seaside and sunshine.

  When I looked over at the Hound, I found him watching me intently. I cleared my throat to say something mean to break this tension that kept building between us.

  “This is what you wanted me to see…?”

  My words trailed off as the train crested the hill it had been climbing, and a place unlike any I’d ever seen came into view.

  My gaze was locked on the sight, but I felt the Hound sidle a bit closer to me, could feel the heat of his muscular body almost touching my back. His warm breath at my ear.

  “That is what I wanted you to see,” he whispered.

  And—gods damn me—but I had to clench my fists against a shiver despite the warm night air. I moved away from him and gripped the railing, the lights of the city no doubt glittering in my eyes.

  The sight was breathtaking.

  Of course, I’d never been outside of Dogshead, but I imagined even seasoned travelers would revel at this. The city was set into the cliffs that overhung the seaside, where the rolling waves of a night-darkened ocean played an endless soundtrack amidst the calls of the seabirds and rumbling of the train on which we rode.

  Homes and buildings were crafted from some glasslike material that reflected the moonlight in shades of soft pink, violet, and emerald. They were all unique, as though each one had been crafted, rather than just built, and there were too many to count.

  On the highest point of the cliffs, towering over the glittering ocean that was black and silver in the moonlight, was a magnificent castle made of gray stone, as if constructed from the sands of these very shores. Its terraces and towers were many, and Hounds patrolled the grounds surrounding it like ants crawling over a dirt hill. I would wager that this was the home of Reagan Ramsey, the seaside equivalent of Bo Benedict’s enormous plantation.

  Blue fire was the source of the light I’d seen leaking over the hillside, adding a luminescence that was fed by the sapphire flames of thousands of torches. I wondered how many people it took to light all those fires.

  As if reading my mind, the Hound said, “The torches were blessed by Apollo many eons ago, and they burn of their own accord after nightfall. It’s said that the sun recharges their energy, and that as long as the sun kisses these lands, the torches will never die…Welcome to Marisol, little Wolf.” His handsome face lit up with a grin. “I think you’re going to like it here.”

  Stepping off the train and into the city was like stepping into a new world. At once I felt very small and very ignorant. Even so, it was an effort to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head. There was so much to look at, so much to see, smell, and hear.

  I’d returned to the cart with the other Dogs after the Hound had welcomed me to his city, remarking that I would be with the other slaves if he needed me and expecting him to yank me back by my collar for the snap in my tone.

  But he did not.

  He let me go.

  Again.

  I made it to the cart I’d been in originally just in time to be herded into a line with the other Dogs and counted by two Hounds whom I’d never met. They wore the embroidered blue anchor crest on the fronts of their uniforms, marking them as property of Reagan Ramsey. They noted my presence as they moved down the line of slaves but did not pay me any special attention other than one remarking to the other that this was the one that killed the Bear.

  His partner snorted as though he didn’t believe it, and they continued on with their roll call. Afterward, they called all of us to attention and the shorter of the two said, “You’ll be expected at The Cliffs bright and early tomorrow. They’re at the south end of the city. Don’t be late, or you’ll be considered a runner and hunted down… You’re dismissed.”

  The Dogs began to head off in different directions, no doubt either to drink or fornicate or both. I stood atop the platform and gazed out at the foreign city ahead, having no clue what to do next.

  Someone bumped into my shoulder hard enough from behind that I stumbled forward. “Watch what the fuck you’re doing,” that same someone said.

  I whirled around to see a beautiful young woman who was probably a couple years older than me. Her skin was a light shade of chocolate, her hair long and black. She wore baggy blac
k pants and a shirt that had been strategically ripped to reveal her shoulders and midriff. Her eyes were big and almond-shaped and as dark as her thick, flowing hair.

  “Watch what the fuck you’re doing,” I corrected. “And who the fuck you’re talking to.”

  She barked a laugh. “You don’t scare me.”

  “Then you’re not very observant.”

  There was a moment of tense silence where we just eyeballed each other, the results of this interaction hanging in the balance. Just as I was beginning to ready myself for a brawl, she reached into her pocket and removed a pack of squares.

  In a decisive move, she offered me one. “I’m Kalene,” she said. “You’re new.”

  I took the smoke but didn’t give my name, waiting until she lit and drew from her own square before lighting and drawing from mine. The stuff they rolled and smoked on this side of the world may be wholly different from what I was used to, and I needed to treat everyone like an enemy until they were proven otherwise.

  It was nothing personal, nor was it a defect of my character. It was simple survival.

  “So you got a name? Or should I just call you ‘new girl’?” Kalene asked.

  “Rook,” I said. “You can call me Rook.”

  Kalene’s red lips turned up. “Well, Rook, you smell like shit, so what do you say I take you to get cleaned up, and then you and me can go find some trouble to get into?”

  “Why? Why are you even talking to me?”

  She gave me a look like this was a stupid question. “Because we’re Dogs, genius. That means every moment could be our last.” She shrugged. “So we might as well act like it.”

  It turned out that I could not argue with that.

  19

  Kalene led me across Marisol. Down streets that were paved with cobblestone and flanked by ornate green lampposts that burned of their own accord, blessed by the God Apollo himself, if a certain Hound were to be believed.

  Again my senses were overwhelmed with stimuli. Again it was an effort not to appear as wide-eyed and green as I felt.

  We passed shops that sported wooden signs proclaiming their names and hanging by chains that creaked ever so slightly in the cool night breeze coming off the water. These shops sloped with the streets that rolled like the hills of a valley, selling everything from clothing to herbs and potions. Glowing insignias graced the windows of the storefronts, claiming that within wonders could be found and fortunes could be told. Every structure was built of that same multi-colored glass that I’d seen from atop the hill on the train.

  “It’s seaglass,” Kalene told me. “Made from lightning striking the sand. It’s a trademark of the Western Coast.

  And then there were the people.

  Wolves and Vampires filled the streets, more people than I’d ever seen gathered in one place outside of the crowds that hovered around The Ring on fight nights. Some wore elaborate clothing and gaudy jewelry—shimmering or gauzy summer gowns, dangling earrings or clinking silver bracelets. Others wore plain clothes, the men in hats of various shapes and short-sleeved collared shirts and the women in cotton skirts printed with seashells or flowers.

  As Kalene and I moved down the street, our attire, gates, and demeanors giving us up for what life station we held, people moved a few paces away or even crossed to the other side of the street entirely.

  This seemed to amuse Kalene, who tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and strutted along as though she had every right to do so. She even winked at an older couple in fine clothes, causing the female to gasp and clutch at her purse before the male took her arm and led her away.

  We walked about ten blocks before reaching the end of the cobbled street, which was just a rocky cliff that dropped straight down to the dark water some sixty feet below.

  Kalene smiled when she saw the look on my face as I peered over the ledge. “Don’t tell me the Bear-killer is afraid of heights,” she teased, confirming my suspicion that my reputation preceded me. Then she stripped off her clothes until she stood only in her undergarments.

  “Not afraid. I just don’t like them.”

  “Well, you better learn to like them,” Kalene said, flashing all of her white teeth. “Otherwise you should get used to smelling like shit.”

  She told me she’d see me at the bottom, and leapt off the edge of the cliff.

  Surely there was a path or trail that led down to the water. This cliff could not be the only way one could reach the bathing area.

  I’d lied about not being afraid of heights, because as a Dog, to admit fear of such a thing would be considered a weakness.

  And so would a refusal to jump.

  There was nothing I could to do keep my knees from wobbling a bit as I leaned over the ledge and gauged the distance. An instant sweat broke over my brow. Before my involuntary physical reactions could progress further, I stepped back a few feet and stripped down to my undergarments. Then I took a deep breath… and jumped.

  My stomach rushed up, the sensation of untethered falling making me grit my teeth and curse the gods in a silent, unintelligible stream.

  But it lasted only a handful of heartbeats, and then the dark water was rushing up to meet me—swallowing me whole.

  It was surprisingly warm and endlessly deep as the downward motion of my fall propelled me deeper and deeper. A thread of fear wove through my stomach as I fought against the trajectory, paddling my arms and kicking my legs in an attempt to surface.

  There was a moment between this and when my head broke through the water where terror tried to grab me, and the idea that I could paddle and kick all I wanted but might never reach the air almost took hold.

  But then I was there, my head above the water, my lungs drawing in precious air. The salty water burned the wounds on my back, which were much better thanks to the Wolfsbane. I didn’t mind the stinging, however. The salt would further disinfect my wounds.

  And it felt incredible to be rinsing free of the filth that had been clinging to me for what seemed an eternity.

  A throaty laugh sounded beside me. “You made it, Bear-killer,” Kalene said. “I was beginning to think you’d chickened out.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me very well,” I snapped, and began swimming toward the cliff’s edge, where others were pulling themselves up and out of the water. There were several ledges below the one I’d jumped from, and water was spilling over one of them in a mighty rush that created cascading waterfalls on the lower cliffs. In the spray of these various falls, Dogs were bathing and playing, the area clearly designated for our use.

  And though I knew most of them were simple, instinct-driven brutes, I had to admire the hard, muscled bodies of the male Dogs who’d survived enough battles to be grown and bathing in the waterfalls of this western cliff.

  “Like what you see, Bear-killer?” Kalene whispered near my ear.

  “Stop calling me that.”

  Her small round nose scrunched up and she arched a dark brow. “Why? It’s a good name, a title you should be proud of. Your victory over the Bear makes you the reigning West Coast Champion, and guarantees you a prime spot at The Games.”

  I lifted myself out of the water with ease, and then made my way over to an outcropping of rock that was unoccupied and boasted a small but strong waterfall.

  As I reached the spray and stepped under it, I tipped my head back at the simple pleasure that was running water. Thoughts of the last shower I’d taken—before my fight with the Bear and after my fight with Mekhi the Hound—came flooding back to me. It had been in Ryker’s hotel room…

  I stayed under the rushing water until that thought had been washed clean away.

  Afterward, when I ran my hands through my long wet hair, the smell of the Bear’s blood had finally faded.

  Kalene decided the best place to live like we were dying was Marisol’s drinking district. This part of the city was not too far from the cliffs, where I assumed Ramsey’s version of a mud and straw hut awaited me.

&nb
sp; Not at all eager to check out the accommodations, and still riding an emotional low point with all that happened, I was not about to protest the drowning of my sorrows. Add to that the fact that I was still reeling over the separation from the only friend I’d ever had in this world…and yeah.

  The night was still young when I found myself absolutely shitfaced. All those pesky issues that had been taunting me had flitted away, the jade-colored glasses I always wore slipping free and leaving the world on a bit of a tilt, and yet, somehow, more manageable.

  And I wasn’t about to stop there. I stumbled out of a bar with a name I didn’t know and onto a street with the same, Kalene at my side and somehow less annoying than she’d been about an hour ago.

  “Bet they don’t have smoke dens in Dogshead,” Kalene slurred, taking my arm and dragging me further down the sloped street toward a two-story building that looked turquoise under the moonlight. Hanging around the pearlescent exterior was a cloud of smoke that smelled strongly of an herb I recognized.

  I had to give it to her. The girl knew how to party.

  I held the door open for her, and together we disappeared into the smoky haze.

  20

  I regretted that shit the very next morning. Hardcore.

  Peeling my eyes apart took more than a couple tries, and I groaned and rolled over… Only to get a face full of sand.

  Cursing, I sat up and spat out the grains that had gotten into my mouth, clutching at my head when the movement set it throbbing. Between that and the wretched twisting in my stomach, I struggled to recall where I was, how I had gotten here, and what exactly the events of the previous night were.

  A snore on the other side of me had me whipping my head in that direction, and I bit back another groan as I saw that the noise had come from a rather large male who was still asleep only a couple of feet from where I now sat. I didn’t recognize him, but from what I could see of his face he was ruggedly handsome, his head shaved on both sides but grown a little longer on top. From the various scars covering his body, I would wager my winnings that he was a Dog.