Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

  “H-How did you get that?”

  “You’re not the only one who learned a few tricks in college,” she smirked as she tossed it over her shoulder. It sailed into the house, disappearing into the piles of broken bric-a-brac that littered Clara’s house.

  “You shouldn’t be able to touch it, let alone be in the same room with me, if you mean me harm.”

  “Oh, I admit, it’s been a pretty painful few days,” she said. “But I was with Ryan for six years, I am familiar with pain. I even enjoyed it after a while.” She held up her hand, showing a long, angry welt stretching across her palm. “I got this when I took it from your pocket while you were running around the house searching for that stupid old lady. But it will heal, whereas you are going to be dead, so I consider it a small price to pay.”

  Kylie whimpered. I bent my head toward her. “I knew she was a crazy bitch. What I don’t know is why she’s betraying Ryan like this.”

  “Sorry Princess, but there’s only room for one woman in Ryan’s life, and it’s not going to be you.” she took a short step toward us, her eyes boring into mine, the emerald irises flashing with malice. “I’ve been waiting for days to get you alone, but wherever you are, he’s only a few steps behind. Well, not tonight. And I’m not going to miss this opportunity to be rid of you.”

  My eyes remained fixed on the barrel of that gun, the place from which my death would soon come. The fear was bubbling up inside of me, threatening to spill over into full-blown panic. I debated getting on my knees and begging her for mercy, but when the fear reached my voice box, it instead propelled the stupidest words out of me.

  “You think killing me is going to get the two of you back together? Seriously? I thought you were clever, Melissa. But come on.”

  Kylie dug her nails into my arm. Why do I keep talking? Why?

  “So we’re going to stand here like we’re in a bad comic book and discuss the evil plan before I kill you? Fine.” She gave me a brilliant smile. “I’ll indulge you. What do you want to know?”

  “I’m gathering you’ve been in Isengrim’s pocket the whole time.”

  “Of course. It was his idea I go back to Ryan. He thought it would be useful to have someone instead Raynard Hall.” She grinned. “It was.”

  “You were the one who revealed our position to Isengrim last night? How did you do it, when our scents were disguised? You were with us the whole time.”

  She grinned. “That was easy. I only pretended to drink Clara’s spell. Isengrim smelled me the moment we stepped out of the car. He knew you were there the whole time. He wanted you to see what he was doing. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, but we’ve remedied that now.”

  “You told him about Clara, and where she lived.”

  She nodded again. “Now you’re getting it. I told him if he needed a witch, I knew exactly where he could find one. Clara’s abduction also doubled as a handy way to draw Ryan away so I could get to you two.”

  Miss Havisham let out a pained wail, her claws frantically shaking the wire mesh. Kylie looked crestfallen. “What have you done to our cat?”

  Melissa jerked her head toward the cage, where a calico paw was now pushing through the wires, swiping spitefully at her leg. She kicked the cage, and Miss Havisham screeched. “The cage contains an anti-shifting charm. She can’t shift inside it, so she’s not going to be much help to you now. And don’t even think about calling out for Ryan. I can sense him through the call, you know. If I sense him so much as turn back in the direction of this house, I will personally rip your heart out of your chest and eat it in front of you. I might even share a morsel with your cat here.” She kicked the cage again.

  “What difference does it make?” I said. “You’re going to shoot us full of holes, anyway.” Kylie glared at me to shut up, but I couldn’t help it. The fear made me angry, and I spat my foolish words at her, since they were the only weapons I had. I thought of the small bottle of iridium pigment hidden in my jeans pocket. I moved my hand to grab it, but thought better of the idea. There was no way I could pull it out without her seeing it, and her gun was faster than my hand. Better to save it for another opportunity, if there was ever going to be such a thing.

  “Oh, no. I’m not going to kill you right now.” Melissa waved the gun at my head. “You two are going to get in the car, and the three of us are going for a little drive.”

  I folded my arms. “You’re going to have to be a bit more persuasive if you want us to do anything for you.”

  She sighed. “Fine. You refuse to go, and I shoot you. Boom. You’re dead. It’s not the way I want to play things, but you are dispensable, so that’s fine. Or, you could come with me. I take you to Isengrim, he takes what he wants from you, and then he kills you. But in the meantime, you will have days, or weeks, even, to contemplate your fate and attempt all manner of daring and risky escape plans. Maybe one of them succeeds, and you experience a few fleeting hours of freedom before we hunt you down and kill you for your insolence.” She shrugged. “Your choice.”

  “If it’s all the same to both of you,” Katie piped up, “I’ll take the second option. The not-killing-right-now one.”

  “Then get in the car. And don’t even think about reaching for that mace. In fact,” she took one hand off the gun and held it out toward Kylie. “You can give that to me.”

  Gingerly, Kylie stepped forward and placed the wooden handle into Melissa’s waiting hand. Melissa lifted the weapon and inspected it, admiring the heavy spiked head. She grinned at us as she hefted the weapon over her shoulder. “This could come in handy. Now, let’s go.”

  Melissa walked behind us through the front garden, her gun on our backs forcing us forward, despite my legs wobbling like jelly as I made my way down the path. I glanced down the street, hoping to see the shape of my fox-man on the road, ready to come to my rescue once more. But the street was empty, and eerily silent, the only sound was our footsteps crunching over the gravel as we walked to the car and the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

  Melissa held open the back door, and we scrambled into the backseat. She sat down in the front, throwing Miss Havisham’s cage and the mace down on the seat beside her. Ryan had conveniently left the keys in the ignition, so she had no trouble getting the car started and pulling out into the street.

  I knew that wherever we were going, we’d be searched thoroughly upon our arrival. I couldn’t let them discover the pigment bottle. I debated tossing it through the open crack in the window, but decided against it. Who knew how long it would be before we could find some more? I needed another plan.

  I tapped Kylie’s knee, forcing her to look down at my legs. Then I pulled down the flap of my pocket, showing her the small glass bottle hidden inside. Her eyes widened, and she looked like she was about to say something. I shook my head no, then did my best hand-gestures to indicate that I needed her to create a distraction.

  Kylie turned over and began coughing frantically, clawing at the buttons to open the window. Miss Havisham must have sensed something afoot, because she started to howl too, rocking her cage against the door and darting her claws through the wire.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Melissa demanded, turning around in her seat to glare at Kylie. “Shut her up, before she causes a scene.”

  “She has terrible allergies,” I lied. “Perhaps your hideous perfume is causing a reaction.”

  Melissa bent right around and slapped Kylie across the cheek. Kylie’s head rocked back and smacked against the window. I cringed as I heard it crack against the glass.

  “I said, shut up!”

  “I need to get her inhaler from her pocket. Can I do that, or will you shoot me?”

  “Fine. But don’t try anything stupid.”

  I bent down and pulled Kylie’s bag from under the seat. Fumbling around inside, I quickly pushed the tiny iridium pigment bottle between my breasts, so it was hidden in my bra. The corner of the bottle jabbed into my left breast, but it wasn’t visible. I grabbed a small aeros
ol deodorant from Kylie’s bag and passed it to her. She cupped it in her hands, the way asthmatics hold an inhaler, held it up to her mouth, and made some convincing sound effects while she took a couple of deep breaths. Atta girl, Kylie.

  Kylie shoved the deodorant into her pocket and let her fake coughing fit die away. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, wincing as she held a hand against the back of her head. Her cheek was turning red from Melissa’s slap. I felt bad for making her do that, but at least now the iridium was better hidden.

  Miss Havisham was still howling, her high-pitched wail like a knife stabbing my heart. Melissa glared through the wire door of the cage. “If you don’t stop that noise, right now, I will cut off your tail and eat it in front of you. Consider this your last warning. All of you.”

  Miss Havisham’s yowl abruptly cut off. We continued our gloomy journey in dead silence.

  Melissa kept one hand on the wheel, and with the other, she searched through the glove compartment. Triumphantly, she held up Kylie’s cellphone, which my friend had stashed in there before we’d left Raynard Hall that morning. She tossed it out the window. Kylie cried out as the screen shattered against the road.

  “Ooops,” Melissa smirked, as she slammed the compartment shut. “Was that yours?”

  Kylie slumped back against the seat, watching with dismay as a large lorry rolled over her phone, spreading the shattered remnants across the street. Now we had no way to track our location or reach anyone. We were truly on our own.

  I reached across and grabbed Kylie’s hand, squeezing hard and trying to send her some kind of telepathic message of hope. We’re going to be OK. I’ll figure out a way to get out of this. We’re the plucky, intelligent heroines, remember? We’re meant to survive.

  Judging from her drawn, frightened face, I’m guessing my telepathy skills weren’t up to scratch.

  Melissa drove through the centre of the village, then took the road out past the witches’ cemetery, and turned down a dirt road that led deep into the forest. I’d never been to this area of Crookshollow before. We were heading further away from the village, the trees packed so densely they completely blocked out the sky. I gulped back my fear as I realised how easy it would be to get completely lost out here. There were no landmarks, no way of navigating based on the sky, no discerning features on the landscape … just miles and miles of thick oaks and chirping birds.

  There’s no way Ryan will be able to find us now.

  Kylie squeezed my hand tighter, staring at me with wide, teary eyes. I squeezed hers back. Stay calm, I willed myself. You have to figure a way out of this.

  I watched out the window as we passed another path heading off into the forest. I kept my eyes on the road, counting the turnoffs we passed, trying to create a map of the road in my mind, in case we needed to find our way back along it later. We drove in silence for over an hour, heading along that winding road past three more turnoffs, until Melissa pulled up into a clearing. In the dim headlights, I saw another car beside hers; a dark jeep, the kind rangers used when they were out here doing their work. I wondered if it belonged to another of Isengrim’s shifters. Perhaps Isengrim himself. Funny, I always imagined him in a Beamer.

  Melissa tossed Miss Havisham’s cage into my hands. She grabbed the gun off the seat, and pointed it at us. “Get out,” she said. “And remember, this area is carefully guarded. If you do anything stupid, we will respond with violence. You might think you can make a run for it, but you won’t get far.”

  Ryan, if you can hear me, I really need you right now.

  My internal pleading received only silence. What could I do? I got out of the car, pulling the cage out, too. Miss Havisham whined pitifully from inside. I could see her yellow eyes through the wires, wide with fear. Kylie gripped my arm, her fingernails digging into my skin. Melissa pointed to a path on the edge of the clearing, leading deeper into the forest. She jiggled the gun at us. “Walk,” she commanded.

  We walked.

  The path Melissa ordered us to follow descended deep into the valley floor and was a thin trail, overgrown and nearly invisible in places. It had rained there recently – the trees dripped with dew, the air was still thick with water vapour, and the ground damp and slippery. Melissa barked at us constantly to move faster. My shoes – thick-soled vintage boots with a tiny heel – were hardly appropriate walking attire, but at least they had some grip, unlike Kylie’s ballet flats. Every few steps she slipped over the wet leaves and bare dirt on the forest floor. She spent more time skidding down the slope on her butt than walking. Miss Havisham howled in protest as I crashed through the trees, bumping the cage against every surface and jiggling her wildly about as I fought to retain my balance. I didn’t blame her for being grumpy at me; it must’ve been like a never-ending kitty rollercoaster ride.

  “How much further?” Kylie cried, as she skidded down a particularly slippery bank and fell headfirst into a blackberry bush. Melissa didn’t reply, but waved her gun in Kylie’s face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Kylie pulled herself to her feet again, and pushed on.

  After walking through the bottom of the valley for a while, we began to climb again. Kylie was gasping for breath, and every second step she tripped over her feet. I looked down and saw her ballet flats were in tatters, the only thing holding them onto her feet was sheer grim determination. The soles were riddled with holes, and purple toes pushed through the thin faux leather – cold and bleeding from all her scrapes and falls. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and helped her along as she leaned heavily against me, weak from fatigue and fear. She wouldn’t last much longer at this pace.

  “Can we rest for a few minutes?” I asked Melissa, struggling to keep my voice steady and calm. “Neither of us are exactly in the ideal hiking attire, and Kylie’s feet aren’t in great shape. We need to slow the pace a bit.”

  Melissa didn’t answer. Instead, she jabbed the barrel of her pistol into Kylie’s back. “Don’t talk. Keep walking. Don’t forget,” she growled in Kylie’s ear. “It’s Alex I really want. You are perfectly expendable.”

  I used the last of my strength to pull Kylie along, slinging Miss Havisham’s cage over my shoulder like Bouguereau’s The Water Girl. I could hear animals moving in the forest around us – I never saw anything, but I could feel their eyes on me. I knew it was some of Isengrim’s shifters, guarding us, making sure we made it to him in one piece. We must be getting close.

  The trees grew so thick here that they completely obscured the sky. I had no way of telling the time, of knowing how long we’d been walking. My thighs ached from all the hills, and my whole body throbbed with exhaustion. In a normal situation, I would’ve enjoyed walking through the forest, exploring an old, forgotten corner of the wilderness surrounding the village, pressing in against civilisation on all sides. But when I knew I was marching toward my doom, the trees no longer seemed friendly and welcoming. Now, they were mocking, sinister.

  I was almost starting to wish Melissa would hurry up and kill us, to end this waiting and agony. Almost.

  Eventually, we came out in a clearing, this one located on a hilltop, overlooking the valley below. The edge of the clearing fell away into a steep drop; a cliff so high it made my knees shake just to peer over it – impossible to scale, and better than a cage at trapping us. In one corner of the clearing was a small hut – one of the sort of dilapidated boltholes that were scattered throughout the English wildlands; rotting wooden weatherboards peeling away from the frame, the tin roof practically sagging under the weight of dead leaves and branches that obscured it. Its small windows were dark and ominous. I shuddered to think what might be inside.

  “I recognise this place,” I whispered to Kylie. “It’s Drablow’s Hut. There’s a picture of it in a frame in Matthew’s office. He likes to collect vintage newspaper clippings. It’s named after a famous outlaw who used it as his lair. He’d killed his wife and child, then went on the run from the authorities. He managed to survive out here for several years before they
finally caught him and dragged him back into the town to be hanged.”

  “Delightful,” Kylie murmured in response, casting her weary eyes around the clearing. I did the same, a thought occurring to me. The place was completely devoid of life. Wherever Melissa had planned to take us, I’d expected to see dozens of animals – stags glaring at me with cruel eyes, foxes stalking us through the undergrowth, birds and squirrels watching eagle-eyed from the highest branches. But the clearing was completely bare, utterly silent. My boots crunched through the tall grass and fallen leaves, and the sounds were like gunshots in the eerily quiet place.

  Melissa put two of her fingers in her mouth and whistled. At first, I couldn’t hear or see anything different. But then I saw Kylie’s face turn white with fear. “What?” I asked. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. She pointed up. I followed her gaze, my heart slamming into my throat.

  From the trees above, a dark shadow fell over the clearing. At first, it appeared to be a cloud of smoke, but as it hurtled toward us, I realised it was not one great cloud, but hundreds of winged creatures flying close together, their wings humming as they beat against each other.

  An unkindness of Ravens. I’d read somewhere that was the collective noun. And these ravens certainly looked rather unkind, with their beady eyes trained on me and their wings thumping as their volery descended upon us.

  The ravens swirled around us, squawking and hooting and diving at our heads. Wings fluttered, drumming together in a menacing song. I pulled Kylie to my chest and covered my head with my hands to keep them from injuring us. Their wings beat against my arms, their talons scraping along my skin. Fear welled up inside of me as the ravens surrounded us, pressing in on all sides.

  But they did not attack. Instead, each bird settled on the ground, folding their wings into themselves and hopping through the grass. As they moved along the ground, they changed, their talons growing out from their bodies at an alarming speed, their feathers shrinking away and their bird-bodies twisting, revealing arms and legs and torsos. Within moments, there was not a single raven in the clearing. We were now surrounded by a circle of naked men, each one with deep black hair, wiry, toned bodies, and long, thin fingers. They all bore complex runic and knot-work tattoos across their muscled chests. Each one regarded us with cool, piercing eyes, closing in on us in a tight circle, so we were surrounded by their cold, dark, startling beauty. In any other situation, being surrounded by beautiful black-haired, muscled, tattooed men would be a dream come true. But now, it was more like a nightmare.