[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws

by Winter Pennington

  A furred body galloped past. I pushed off the earth and kept going, catching up to the black wolf that had collided into me. The wolf turned its head, amethyst eyes meeting mine with a look of mischief.

  I knew Zaphara could shape-shift. It was one of her abilities as full-blooded fey, but I hadn't known she could choose the form of a wolf.

  As if hearing my thoughts, her laughter rang in my head again.

  Oh, you bitch. I projected the thought at her, knocking my body against hers, feeling our fur and muscles move together.

  The wolf liked that.

  Zaphara nipped at my ear and I ducked my head, making her miss.

  I have my moments.

  A few too many, I think.

  At that, she laughed, offering a delighted and carefree yip to go along with the ringing in my head.

  Carver made a sharp right and we followed through a break of tall, unkempt grass. Zaphara's furred body moved against mine, her paws hitting the ground in synchronicity with mine. I closed my eyes, mirroring the flow of her body.

  Kassandra.

  Hmm?

  You're up my ass, witch.

  I opened my eyes and backed off, pushing myself to catch up with Carver and Claire.

  It didn't take long until I felt Zaphara's warm body flowing alongside mine again, until I felt her melding into me.

  I thought I was up your ass?

  Little did I realize you were keeping it warm.

  The long grass ended and we erupted in another clearing. Carver stood over a body-sized mound of dirt and whimpered. He pawed at the dirt, starting to dig.

  He looked at me and pointed his snout at the mound. Claire started frantically digging with him.

  I didn't think. I didn't need to think. I just knew and started digging.

  Sheila had buried Rosalin alive.

  CHAPTER eleven

  e dug, dug until our paws were thick with dirt and soil.

  We dug with a frenzy, throwing showers of dirt like rain behind and on each other. Twice, I had to shake my head to keep the loose dirt from falling into my eyes. I averted my ears, feeling them flatten against my skull. Zaphara dug beside me, black paws as dark with soil as mine were.

  Whoever had buried Rosalin had patted the soil down, making it tight and unyielding. Carver shook his head, dirt falling from his obsidian snout.

  "Too deep," he said in a guttural voice, stepping back.

  Claire followed Carver's lead and stopped digging. "We can't just leave her."

  "We're not going to." I kept digging.

  Someone touched my furred shoulder. I turned to see Zaphara, kneeling in her clothes, her trench coat trailing on the ground. "Get back, Kassandra."

  It did not surprise me to see her fully clothed. She had once taught me how to emerge from a raven shift fully clothed. Returning from a shift was different with magic. Once, she had told me she could teach me how to return from wolf-form clothed, but I had not gotten the hang of it. From what I understood, it had to do with simultaneously summoning the fey magic in my veins and the beast. So far, I'd gotten the hang of it with the raven. That was it.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Call the earth."

  I didn't question her. Zaphara's power was elemental in nature, and earth was just another element. I moved back from the small crater we'd managed to create. Zaphara put her stark palms flat on the soil and closed her eyes. She whispered something, words I did not understand. A cool breeze picked up, tangling its fingers in my fur. The waist-length tresses of Zaphara's hair swayed in that breeze, dancing lightly. She had not wasted magic materializing the clasp that had secured her hair when it was braided.

  The cool breeze grew warm to my pricked ears and I took another step back.

  A tremor rumbled through the earth.

  Zaphara sank her fingers into the dirt as if they were knives. Her eyes flew open and I didn't need to see them to know they were power-filled, to know they burned with the intensity of the gemstones they mimicked.

  She closed her fists around the dirt and raised her hands.

  The earth gave one last shudder, strong enough that I had to space my paws out to keep from losing my balance.

  The dirt above Rosalin jumped. It hung in the air above the dark cavity, hung as if someone had slipped an invisible sheet beneath it and was holding it there. Carver and Claire sank low to the ground, backing off in a sign of submission. Neither seemed willing to brave Zaphara's magic and crawl into the hole to retrieve Rosalin.

  I caught Zaphara's glance. The amethyst jewels of her eyes flickered with power in the moonlit night, a burst of color in my vision.

  "Get your wolf, Kassandra. I cannot hold this forever."

  I stood on my hind legs, a few inches taller than in my human form, and climbed down into the well-dug grave.

  I jerked the dark pillowcase from the head of the body at my feet. Rosalin's features came into view, eyes closed, mouth slack.

  My heart leapt erratically in my chest. Memories swam to the surface: Memories of Timothy's body naked and exposed to the cool October night. Memories of his tanned skin slightly paled, of his eyes opened wide in death, of his lips half-parted.

  "No." She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. She was a werewolf, a shape-shifter. It took more than a little suffocation to kill us.

  Timothy hadn't been dead, not truly. I tried to assure myself that's why my mind was reverting to that particular memory.

  "Kassandra." Zaphara's voice was a distant reminder. I stopped thinking and scooped Rosalin's limp body into my arms, hauling her up. It was going to be difficult carrying her out, not because I couldn't carry her. I had the strength to carry her, but because even in wolf-form I wasn't exactly tall, not as tall as some of the others.

  Carver was suddenly there, at the edge of the grave. He reached out with clawed fingers, grabbing the back of Rosalin's red T-shirt.

  I heard it tear as he pulled her to the ground above.

  Someone wrapped an arm around my waist and jerked me unceremoniously from the grave. The earth fell in a shower of dirt and stones, making a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard. I wasn't so sure it liked Zaphara playing with it.

  Since when did the earth have a mind to care?

  Zaphara's arm slipped from around my waist. Dark blood glinted on her hands in the moonlight.

  "Nature is two-edged," she explained, obviously understanding the question in my eyes, even if they were the wolf's.

  Carver made a noise, almost a grunt and I moved, the night blurring for a moment in my vision. I knelt with him beside Rosalin. She was on her side. The jeans she wore were torn and dirty. Her red T-shirt had been torn by Carver's claws in the back, although he hadn't meant to.

  Her hands had been bound behind her back. I trailed a claw along the diminutive leather straps that encircled her wrists, holding them together. The leather crawled up her arms, cinched tight at her elbows.

  I knew those bindings. I'd had firsthand experience of those bindings, and it had taken Lenorre to get me out of them.

  Sheila Morris had used the same leather bindings that Lukas Morris had used on me when he'd kidnapped me. I couldn't break them; neither Carver nor Claire could break them either, because underneath the leather, they were laced with silver chain.

  I touched Rosalin's shoulder and laid my ear against her chest. Her heart wasn't beating.

  "Zaphara," my voice sounded a hell of a lot calmer than I felt.

  She came, kneeling with us. She looked at the bindings. "I will untie them."

  I nodded.

  "Shift while I remove them. Your wolf is not yet lost, Kassandra, but you're going to have to breathe life back into her lungs."

  I was pretty sure she was telling me I was going to have to give Rosalin CPR and couldn't very well do it while in wolf form. Against all my modesty, I closed my eyes and drew the night air into my lungs. I held it there, along with the image of the wolf in my mind. I didn't lure her back into the center of m
y body, I jerked her into it, or maybe, understanding what I knew, she went willingly. I do not know, but it felt as if my body caved in on itself, skin replaced fur, claws sank to nails. My bones clicked and crunched together like shifting gears, sliding back into place.

  The air was cold and my skin was sticky, sticky like I'd been running and sweating profusely, but I was warm with the aftermath of the shift.

  Zaphara had removed the leather straps at Rosalin's arms and laid her on her back. I knelt over her body and tried to remember something I'd been taught way too many years ago. I found the notch where her breastbone met her ribs, pressing down just enough to make sure that was in fact where I wanted to pump the heel of my hand. I reminded myself to be calm and gentle. It wouldn't do any good to accidentally break something just because I was panicking and unaware of my strength. I folded my right hand over my left, leaned over my hands, then pumped while counting silently in my head.

  I plugged Rosalin's small nose, tilted her head back, pressed my mouth against her half-parted lips, and breathed into her.

  I leaned over and listened. Nothing.

  Compressions. Breath. Compressions. Breath. I did it again and again. If the others were looking at me, if they were watching me, I did not care. I fell into a sort of trance, following the beat of remembered training and the flow of my body.

  I pressed my mouth against Rosalin's soft and yielding lips and when I breathed, I shoved my will into her body.

  Wake up, I thought calmly. Unnervingly calmly. Damn it, Rosalin. Wake up.

  I turned, about to resume compressions when her body jerked.

  A long, ragged gasp of breath cut through the night. Carver gave a satisfied rumble. Claire offered a triumphant yip. Rosalin looked up at me, panic in her eyes. Her nails dug into my skin where she clutched my shoulder.

  I could suddenly taste cool ginger on my tongue.

  "Kassandra?"

  I licked my lips, closing my eyes and breathing a sigh of relief. I whispered a silent prayer to the Morrigan.

  Rosalin's nails dug more fiercely into my shoulder, threatening to pierce my skin. I could feel her hand shaking, trembling.

  A sob fell from her lips. I had only seen Rosalin cry once, and once was enough. I caught her arm and pulled her in against my body, wrapping my arms around her. Her body shook, trembling all over with the memory of Sheila's abuse. I didn't need to be inside her head. I could smell the fear and shock coming off her. Carver bumped up against her and Claire came to us, offering the balm of their furred bodies, offering the scent of family.

  I stroked Rosalin's messy auburn hair. "It's okay," I whispered. "You're safe now. Rosalin, you're safe now."

  Rosalin buried her face in the bend of my neck, crying and trembling.

  I met Zaphara's eyes over Rosalin's shoulder. The look on her face was pure venom. The wolf growled through me, a shudder of rage suffusing my body.

  Rosalin's hand slid down my back, following the curve of my spine.

  Her fingers brushed the top of my buttocks and I stiffened.

  "Rosalin," I said, warning.

  She drew back, eyes wide, tears glistening on her cheeks. "Not that I mind you being nude right now, but where are your clothes?"

  "I just pulled you out of a grave, gave you CPR, and you're worried about my clothes?"

  Her eyes were haunted. "I've been through worse," she said plainly, no emotion, nothing.

  Another shudder of rage sailed through me.

  I stood, pulling Rosalin's hands off my body.

  "Kassandra." She touched my leg, gazing up at me and searching my face. "What are you doing?" Her eyes were wide with surprise. "What are you going to do? You can't possibly…"

  "Oh yes," I said, words dripping with heat and the wolf's power. "I can."

  "Kassandra," Zaphara's amused voice made me turn. She held her hand out, trench coat dangling from her fingertips. Without the coat, the tight black long-sleeved T-shirt she wore and dark jeans looked glued over her long body.

  "Thanks," I said, taking the trench and slipping it on over my bare skin. I buttoned the coat to my knees. It was a little long, but I didn't care. In fact, had she not offered, I probably wouldn't have even given the nudity a second thought until it was too late. Just the thought that in my anger, I'd completely overlooked that tidbit unnerved me, but I let it go. Pissed off sounded like a better state.

  Rosalin said, "Kassandra, please, don't do this. Don't do what I think you're going to do."

  I looked over my shoulder. "I told you once, if she laid a hand on you again, I'd break everyone of her Goddess-damned fingers. If there's one thing you should know about me, Rosalin, it's this: I keep my promises."

  CHAPTER twelve

  made it to the edge of the clearing, and the wolves that had so readily parted for Zaphara did not part for me. They turned to look at me but made no move to get the hell out of my way.

  Something about that pissed me off even more. I hadn't thought my wolf and I could get madder, hadn't thought there was a next bitch level. In fact, I'd been fairly certain I'd hit the max. I was wrong.

  My skin burned hot, hotter than I'd ever felt it. The energy of the wolf unfurled from inside me and I felt my eyes bleed gold again. Her snowy fur brushed my insides, making my head feel thick and heavy. I moved and the ground felt faint and unreal beneath my feet.

  I reached out to touch the wolf closest to me, a girl that looked much younger than the others. I touched her arm and she flinched a second before that hot wave of energy rolled from me and slammed into her. She fell to her knees, gasping.

  As soon as she hit her knees, she averted her eyes.

  It would be so easy to claim her, to take her from Sheila Morris. The wolf howled through me; she wanted to do it.

  Girl. I reminded myself. She was only a girl, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen years of age.

  "Go ahead and take her, Kassandra. I've no need of weaklings."

  Sheila's voice carried to my ears and I turned, growling as the wolf's anger flared again. The wolves parted, giving me a clear line of sight to Sheila.

  Lenorre and Eris stood by her throne, almost like they were guarding it, but I knew better.

  I moved to stand, and fingers clutched my arm, nails digging frantically into my skin.

  There was a look in her brown eyes that was pleading. I touched her brow, feeling the heat like something warm and sticky between us, feeling the energy of our wolves leap like a dancing flame.

  Not now, I thought, getting to my feet, I turned away from the girl, heading for Sheila. I took my time about it, letting her see my anger. Sheila held my gaze unflinchingly as a satisfied smirk twisted her mouth. Her expression was cold and baiting.

  I wanted to knock that look off her face and didn't try to hide it. The anger fueled the beast, giving her a longer leash to play with. I felt my canines lengthening.

  When I got to Sheila, no one tried to stop me or to stand in my way. I paused in front of her, close enough to reach out and touch her. I drew my arm back and she didn't move to protect herself. For a moment, I think she didn't believe I'd actually do it.

  I hit her, raking my nails across her face, tearing skin and sending blood flying.

  "If you touch one of my wolves ever again I will destroy everything you are." I leaned in close, whispering.

  Her eyes blazed with anger and I felt the heat of her beast threatening to swallow her. She licked the blood from her bottom lip.

  "Will you, Kassandra? Are you that confident? How is Rosalin, by the way?"

  I growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her out of her throne and to the ground.

  Her wolves stepped forward and she raised a hand, stopping them.

  "If you wanted to fight," she said, "all you had to do was say so."

  She grabbed a handful of her shirt, tearing it down the middle.

  A deafening shot shattered the silence.

  Sheila's body jerked and she howled. The bullet knoc
ked a spray of blood from her right shoulder. The wolves behind her scrambled and scattered, tripping over one another and their own feet.

  Sheila made to move, but stopped, going completely still. Past the ringing in my ears, I heard Lenorre tsk softly.

  "You do not want to challenge me, Sheila. I am much less merciful than Kassandra."

  Lenorre moved up beside me and I knew from the strong ringing in my left ear that she hadn't been the one to fire the shot. Eris moved where I could see her, gun still aimed on Sheila.

  Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her wink over the gun at me.

  "This ends now," Lenorre said, calm and graceful as she walked to Sheila. "I am not only tired of your games, Sheila, but I am atrociously bored with them as well. Kassandra has not acted outside of Lykos' law. She has exacted blood payment and you know the repercussions if you lay hand on one of her wolves again. Do not seek to challenge her this night." She knelt and reached out to touch Sheila's hair.

  Sheila jerked away from her.

  "There is no way for you to win this, Sheila."

  "Why not let your little wolf try me? Are you so scared you'll lose her, Lenorre? Are you so scared I'll break your precious toy alpha?"

  Lenorre moved so quickly, all I saw was a blur of moonlit skin and her long onyx hair. She yanked Sheila's head back by her braid. "You know the rules, Sheila."

  "I know the rules, Lenorre. Let Kassandra speak for herself." Lenorre let her go and stepped away from her. Sheila turned to look at me and moved toward me.

  The wolves behind her took up a chorus of growls. The wolf within me paced, anxious and angry.

  Sheila stopped moving, kneeling in her pants and torn shirt, the line of bra dark against her body.

  "Challenge me, Kassandra."

  "No!" It was Rosalin's voice. She entered the clearing with Zaphara, Carver and Claire still in wolf form behind her. "That's what she wants, Kassandra. She's trying to set you up to tear you down. Can't you see it? Don't challenge her, please. She can't hurt you, not by our laws, unless you challenge her."

  I looked down at the alpha in front of me. I'd extracted blood payment, but if I touched her again, if I outright challenged her, it'd be a fight in earnest.