House of Wolves: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 1)

by Jonathan Yanez

  “Oh… Well, I didn’t know that. I guess that makes sense.”

  Jack let a small smile play across his lips before Sloan turned in his direction and he immediately faked a cough with a gloved hand to hide his mouth. Jack noticed his father lock eyes with Sloan and raise his eyebrows, giving her an “I told you so” kind of look.

  Sloan positioned herself behind Aareth but refused to wrap her arms around his chest or waist. Instead she gripped the frame of the bike on either side of her seat.

  Jack ignited the engine and the machine roared to life. Red steam shot from both sides of the bike from the metal pipes that pointed toward the sky.

  “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve got this all under control,” Jack could practically feel how nervous his father was behind him.

  “Well, if I have to go, I guess riding a steel rocket with my son at the wheel is as good as any.”

  Jack laughed out loud and pressed his right foot down on the pedal. The machine shot forward and soon they were flying across the desert toward Burrow Den.

  Throughout the day, Jack and Aareth took turns in the lead. At lunch, Sloan took over, while Marcus politely refused the operating duties. Jack was more than content with his father’s apprehension to operate the machine. Jack loved the way the mage-powered bicycle moved. The way the wind rushed all around him and the power he felt at being able to make the machine go in any direction he deemed fit was intoxicating.

  The four members of the queen’s emissary were able to make amazing time. The machines allowed them to make a beeline for Burrow Den instead of having to stick to roads. This also insured they wouldn’t pass anyone on the way, thus avoiding any kind of confrontation or ambushes waiting for them. The machines also more than doubled the pace they would have been able to keep if they had ridden horses.

  The sun was beginning to set on the vast desert when Jack noticed two things. The first was that he could see a line of mountains approaching on the horizon, marking the end of the wasteland. The second was the wind was picking up in intensity. Sand was beginning to twirl and swirl in every direction.

  Jack trusted the operation of the bike to one hand as he placed the goggles Christopher provided over his eyes.

  Sloan was riding opposite Jack and she swerved close enough to shout. What she was saying, Jack couldn’t pick up. The rushing sound of the wind and the amount of sand that was now in the air made it near impossible to communicate. The sand created a kind of rainy fog as they continued forward.

  “What? What are you saying?” Jack shouted and looked at Sloan for as long as he dared. “I can’t hear you!”

  Sloan swerved closer and this time Aareth shouted something and pointed behind him. The only word Jack caught was enough for him to understand. “Sandstorm!”

  Jack

  Jack could feel his father tapping him on his back. He chanced a quick look over his shoulder and at the same moment wished he hadn’t. There was a wall of sand over a hundred feet high rushing toward them. It was still more than a quarter mile away but Jack knew how quickly a sandstorm was capable of moving.

  Marcus’ arm shot forward on Jack’s left side. His father’s finger pointed to the ridge of trees marking the edge of the desert and the beginning of the mountainous forest region.

  “Can—we—make it?” his father shouted into his ear.

  Jack set his jaw and nodded. Sloan and Aareth must have noticed Marcus’ pointing finger. Sloan stayed close and they both gunned the engines.

  Sand swirled around them at hazardous speeds as they raced toward the safety of the tree line. Jack jammed his lips shut as he squinted through the goggles and tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of tiny granules making their way inside his ears and nostrils.

  Fear began to pump through his veins like poison as he lowered his head and thought about the possibility of not reaching the tree line in time. If they didn’t make it to the safety of the trees, Jack knew they had a very small chance of survival. They would be enveloped and buried by the wall of sand behind them. These thoughts made Jack do the worst thing possible. He looked behind him again.

  The wall of sand was racing toward them and gaining even at the breakneck speed the mage-powered machines were traveling. The wall of sand was at least as tall as New Hope’s city walls. Jack tried to focus on anything except the stories he heard about men trapped in sandstorms and buried alive, he couldn’t.

  The tree line was approaching quickly. Thirty yards away from the safety of the trees, Jack could make out the detail of the hedge of pines before them. He aimed the machine for a spot between two large trees and prayed they would make it.

  Twenty yards away from safety, the sandstorm overtook them. Jack felt the machine nearly lift from the ground. His father’s strong arms wrapped around his chest, tight and firm. Jack knew his father was trying to shield him as best as he could.

  Ten yards from the tree line, the limited visibility they had turned to none at all. Jack set his jaw and tried to remember where he had seen the opening in the line of trees. Was it here? Was it a little to the left? Am I going left now or is this straight?

  The sand was so thick in the air Jack couldn’t even see the control panel right under his eyes, much less what was in front of them. Out of nowhere, tree limbs appeared. At the rate Jack and his father were traveling, the tree branches struck the machine with wood-splintering force. Jack slammed on the brakes in an effort to halt their forward momentum and avoid his head being pulverized by a wayward tree limb but in his effort to save his cranium, he slammed on the brakes too hard. Jack and his father were thrown off the bike and catapulted through the air.

  Aareth

  Aareth knew they weren’t going to make the tree line, and sacrificing the fact that his mouth would be filled with sand yelled into Sloan’s ear, “We won’t—make it! Slow down!”

  There was the tiniest nod from Sloan’s as her ponytail whipped across Aareth’s face for the hundredth time. He grabbed onto her waist even tighter as the mage-powered machine wobbled and came to a sputtering stop.

  Chancing a tongue lashing about her status as a captain or woman or whatever she was so uptight about, Aareth grabbed Sloan around her waist and lifted her off the machine. They were close to the tree line, if they could only make it a few more yards.

  To Aareth’s surprise, Sloan didn’t struggle or say a word. Instead, she leaned into him, and together, step by step, they walked through the sandstorm. The storm swirled and rushed around them, trying to force them to their knees or at least bring them to a stand still, but together Aareth and Sloan refused to give in.

  Soon large shadows loomed out of the sand like fog and within a few minutes the two had made it a few yards into the forest’s interior. They sat huddled together behind a large boulder.

  Sloan pushed herself away from Aareth with an awkward cough and removed her goggles. “Oh sorry, I—”

  “Why don’t you go by your real name?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” Aareth shook sand from his long hair for the second time in as many days.

  “Sloan is my real name.”

  “You know what I mean. When the Queen introduced you to us when we all first met, she called you ‘Captain Charlotte Sloan.’ What do you have against the name Charlotte?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Sloan picked sand out of her ears and spat out a few granules that worked their way into her mouth. “But Charlotte sounds too soft.”

  “Oh, and we can’t have that, can we? Captain Sloan has to be feared and respected.”

  Sloan gave Aareth a look that said she would murder him on the spot and dance on his grave.

  “Sorry.” Aareth put up both hands in a sign of surrender. “But seriously, Charlotte is a good name and anyone who has been named captain of the queen’s personal guard doesn’t have any more to prove in my book.”

  “Well,” Sloan’s demeanor lightened as she changed the subject. “I’m glad my name has your approv
al, Inspector Aareth Emerson—or should I call you The Ghost?”

  “Ah, so you know.”

  “Of course I know. I didn’t get to where I am just because I have a pretty first name.”

  “I didn’t say it was pretty.”

  “You said you liked it.”

  “I do.” Aareth shrugged. “But I didn’t use the word pretty, that was all you.”

  “Whatever. So are you a part of this mission because you’re done with your life as an assassin or are you working some other angle?”

  “What do you think, Charlotte?”

  “First, don’t call me that. Second, I see you as a man capable of a lot of good and a lot of bad. You served as one of the best inspectors for three years and after your wife died, you did a lot of killing for three years. So, which version are you today?”

  Aareth was stunned by her bluntness. He gathered himself as he was reminded of who he was talking to. “You want the truth?”

  “Of course.”

  “I am trying very hard to be the version of myself I was before. I just don’t know if that man exists anymore.”

  Aareth expected Sloan to be hesitant or continue to question his intentions after such a grey response, she didn’t. It seemed like what Aareth said about trying to be the better version of himself resonated with the captain on a much deeper level.

  Instead of continuing the conversation, Sloan peeked a head out from behind the boulder. “Storm’s calming down already.”

  “Crazy how they can come and go so quickly, right?”

  Sloan nodded.

  “So what’s first? Go and dig up our steam machine or find Jack and Marcus? They were riding right next to us when the storm hit. They can’t be far.”

  “We find the sorcerers first,” Sloan stood from her spot. “Without them this mission can’t succeed.”

  Jack

  Jack felt like he was going to throw up. His head was swimming and he had no idea where he was. He struggled to stand but his head was hammering like a blacksmith was using his skull as an anvil. Jack reached a shaky hand to the right side of his head and it came back bloody.

  As he was wondering how badly he was hurt, the events of the past few hours came back to him at once; the locomotive attack, the sandstorm, him and his father being thrown from the steam bicycle. His father!

  Jack turned in every direction, searching the forest floor for his dad. His eyes found a slumped body under a mass of broken branches. Jack ran to his father’s side and gently rolled him over. His father’s chest was still moving up and down. Jack gently shook him. The bandage around Marcus’ head was still intact and no sign of blood soaked through the dressing.

  He’s okay. He’s breathing. He didn’t land on his head, Jack reassured himself.

  “Dad, Dad, can you hear me?”

  “Okay, next time I’m operating the machine.” Marcus’ eyes fluttered open.

  Jack let out a huge sigh and slowly helped his father to his feet.

  “Are you okay? Anything broken?”

  “No, no, I think the old man is going to make it this time around.” Marcus looked down at himself as he dusted off the layers of sand. “You? You’re bleeding.”

  “I know, it’s nothing. We have to find Sloan and Aareth and make sure our transportation is still working.”

  Before Marcus could protest, there was rustling in the dark forest to their left. Jack drew his wand in one smooth motion. Marcus lifted the two parts of his staff from his back. He snapped them together in the space of a breath.

  “Wow, take it easy killers,” Aareth’s walked into the clearing with arms raised. “It’s just Sloan and I.”

  “Glad to see you two made it,” Jack gave Aareth a sly grin. “I thought Sloan might use the sandstorm for cover, you know finally take you out of the picture for good.”

  “It was tempting,” the corner of Sloan’s mouth twitched in an awkward attempt at a smile.

  “So what’s our next move, Captain?” Jack asked.

  “Well, you need to stop spraying blood everywhere. Then we find the machines, make sure they’re still working, and make camp for the night. It’s too dark to travel now. Tomorrow we’ll find the road, and if I’m anywhere near right, we should be in Burrow Den in time for dinner.”

  Jack’s wound was nothing more than a shallow two inch laceration across his scalp. His father had him patched up in no time as Sloan and Aareth wheeled in both of the mage-powered machines.

  The one Jack and Marcus had ridden was dented in a few spots and the front headlight was cracked, but still in running condition. Sloan’s and Aareth’s was in better shape, still sand leaked from the machine out of every nook and cranny.

  Camp was made in the same small clearing Jack found his father lying in and dinner was a simple meal of cheese, dried meat, and biscuits. Jack ate like a starving man. To him the meal was just as satisfying as the feast he was treated to in the Queen’s palace.

  It was as the four unlikely members of the Queen’s emissary were preparing for sleep that Jacked voiced the question that was on all their minds. “So what are we expecting tomorrow when we reach Burrow Den? Do they know we’re coming?”

  “The Queen sent a messenger to tell them help was on the way,” Sloan stared into the fire voicing the words with no real weight behind them.

  “Can we be sure the messenger made it all the way to Burrow Den after our little encounter on the locomotive?” Aareth sat beside the captain toying with his gauntlets. “Could Burrow Den be an ambush?”

  “No. I don’t think so, but who knows,” Marcus chimed in as he threw another log on the fire and settled into a seated sleeping position. “There’s no point speculating on what could be or may happen. We just need to be prepared for anything.”

  There was a mutter of agreement as Sloan and Aareth took solace in the sorcerer’s words and settled in for the night.

  Jack turned onto his back; however, sleep was anywhere but close that night. The forest was dark and shadows twisted and morphed into sinister beings against the forest background.

  Jack would have been scared if he hadn’t grown up as a tracking sorcerer his entire life. He heard noises deep inside the forest’s interior, but each noise he could place; birds’ wings rustling, owls hooting, rabbits galloping down paths. He couldn’t be sure when he drifted to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he was awakened by an unfamiliar sound, a noise that didn’t belong to the forest.

  He was lying on his side facing the fire that was now reduced to a pile of smoking embers and ash. Morning wasn’t far off. For now the moon remained fixed in the sky and a cool dew touched the soft grass. As Jack was waking from his sleep, wondering what the noise had been, he heard it again.

  There was something large moving in the forest. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact area, but he knew it was big and it was trying to move quietly. Jack’s eyes were wide open as he slowly reached down to his side and gripped the cold steel wand. Sloan and Aareth were both motionless, eyes closed, oblivious to the danger around them. His father’s eyes were as wide as his own.

  Jack saw his father looking at him, and without moving his head, motioned with his eyes from Jack to a section of the forest, where a large bush swayed. Normally a bush swaying could easily be written off as the wind, except tonight there was no wind.

  Jack looked back to his father and tilted his head half an inch. Marcus’ hand was on his own staff, tensed and ready. Everything was still except for Jack’s heart. He could feel it racing faster than either the locomotive or the mage-powered bicycles. He forced himself to take slow breaths and slowed his heart rate as his eyes remained glued on the bush that rustled and swayed.

  Jack

  There was nothing that triggered the moment when the creature charged, nothing that set off the beast. Jack jumped to his feet, his right hand brandishing the wand. A moment later he called forth the magic inside harnessing it with his will and bending the energy to do his bidding. His wand danced with green magic
al energy. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his father stand with his staff ablaze in green fire.

  Sloan and Aareth began to wake but all of Jack’s attention was on the mutilated animal charging at them with a blood curdling screech that befit a bird of prey more than a land mammal. Aareth was in a position with his back turned toward the beast, Jack was standing below him and Marcus across.

  Jack let a fiery ball of magic fly, he knew it struck the animal but the beast wasn’t slowing down. It was yards away from Aareth and closing fast. Two more cracks shattered the early morning silence as Marcus fired at the beast.

  The animal stumbled but still moved forward. The brute was now only a few feet from a drowsy Aareth, who turned to face the animal. Jack knew he was Aareth’s last hope before the beast crashed into him with bone-crunching jaws and dagger-like claws.

  The animal was dark in color with strange shaggy hair and a rounded head. Jack took a deep breath and released another bolt from the end of his wand. The magical beam sailed within inches of Aareth’s black hair. It landed dead center into the animal’s throat.

  The beast crashed to the forest floor, skidding the last few feet to rest at Aareth’s worn boots.

  Everyone took a few deep breaths before Aareth turned and looked at a shocked Jack. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

  “Is it dead?” Sloan was wide awake now. She held her steam sword in hand. Her weapon already turning a dull red as the blade heated.

  Marcus stepped forward to stand next to Aareth. Jack and Sloan followed to get a better look at their would-be killer. The animal was no doubt unicorn, but a unicorn the likes of which Jack had never seen. The animal was larger than the forest’s typical white unicorn. The dagger like teeth and sharp claws instead of hooves were all wrong as well.

  Native unicorns to this forest would be smaller, with flat teeth made for chewing grass and sturdy hooves to run. Not only did the physical features of the unicorn cause Jack to wonder at its origin but the screech it made as it attacked was also disconcerting.