Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

  “Tie them up,” said Melissa. “We still have some time before the ritual.”

  “Where’s Isengrim?” asked one of the men. I recognised the thin face and painted nails of Edgar, the raven who’d broken into my flat with Marcus. The other raven-men stepped back as he spoke, dropping their heads against their chests. He must be someone important in Isengrim’s pack, I thought.

  “He is occupied with Raynard. He gave me the perfect chance to grab these two, but I haven’t been able to look for him,” she said, her voice harsh. “He left me in charge here, so do as I say. Tie them up.”

  A group of the men moved forward, their long fingers grabbing Kylie and yanking her away from me. One man tore Miss Havisham’s cage from my hands and held it high in the air, cackling as she swiped in vain at his arm through the wire. I cried out as hands grabbed me under the arms, hoisting me off my feet. More hands clamped over my wrists and ankles, pulling them together and wrapping them in a long, rough cord. I watched carefully as the raven-man tied the cords, noting the type of knot he was using.

  Someone pushed me from behind, and I fell face-forward into the grass. The impact winded me, and I rolled on to my side, pulling my knees to my chest and gasping for air as tears streaked down my face. I could head Kylie whimpering as they bound her, too. “Don’t hurt her,” I managed to choke out. “She hasn’t done anything!”

  A few moments later, Miss Havisham’s cage was flung at my feet, and Kylie was tossed down beside me. I lifted my head and looked into her wide, frightened eyes. There was a long cut across her cheek, and a clump of dried blood on her forehead. Her hair stuck out at all angles – some of it matted to her head with a mixture of blood and sweat – and her face was smeared with dirt and grime. I suspected I didn’t look much better.

  Someone kicked me in the side of the head, and red dots swam in front of my eyes. I turned around, my head spinning from the blow, and came face-to-toe with Melissa. She towered over me, her fierce pointed heels (how on earth had she walked all this way in those?) ready to do some serious damage to my face.

  “So, are you feeling any better about option B?” She smirked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Oh, just peachy.” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice from wavering with fear. “I’m just waiting for you to turn your back, so I can pull my portable trebuchet from my sock and fuck you all up.”

  “One thing I can say about you, Princess. You definitely have a wicked tongue. I’m almost going to be sorry to watch your heart being ripped out.” She nodded her head at one of the men. “Alfonse, check her socks.”

  Melissa turned away, heading back toward the shack. One of the raven-men stepped forward, a cruel glint in his cold eyes. He pulled off my ruined boots, removed my socks and held them close to his face. He sniffed them obscenely, leering at me as he flicked out his tongue and licked the sweat from the toe. He turned the socks inside out, and – satisfied they did not contain any portable medieval siege weaponry – rolled them back onto my feet, his thin fingers stroking my toes, dancing over the soles of my feet. Shivers of repulsion crawled through my body as he caressed my bare skin. It was all I could do not to kick out at him, but I figured it was a waste of my energy. All around him, the other raven men twittered, clearly enjoying my discomfort. At least they didn’t search the rest of me. I could still feel the bottle of iridium pigment jabbing against my ribcage.

  Several of the men changed back into ravens and fluttered back up into the trees, leaving us with a guard of just five men. They stood around the edges of the clearing, marking the boundary of our prison. Each one faced inwards, standing bone-still, arms at their sides, faces impassive, but I sensed they were ready to dart into action in no time. Edgar took a package down from a nearby tree, and tossed a leather loincloth to each of his fellow guards, which they wrapped around their naked waists, making them appear even more like ancient warriors of old Norse legends. Edgar saw me watching them, and grinned at me, unsheathing a long, thin dagger from his leather cloth and holding it up so I could clearly see it. His message was obvious – their prison may have no walls, but we wouldn’t escape with our lives.

  I rolled over, so that I was lying on my side, facing Kylie with my back to the raven-men. One of them darted forward, his dagger drawn, ready to force me back. “Relax, flappy,” I said to him. “I’m just getting comfortable. Maybe you should too, since bitch-face said we’re going to be here a while.”

  He glared at me, but I saw the raven-man next to him smirk at my bitch-face comment. Perhaps Melissa wasn’t as beloved by Isengrim’s pack as she thought.

  I murmured a few encouraging comments to Kylie, but they felt disingenuous, so I stopped. We just stared at each other with fear-filled eyes. I watched the raven-men over her shoulder, my mind searching for a way to escape.

  Minutes slipped by in agonising silence. Slowly, our guard began to relax in our presence. They shifted weight from foot to foot, their shoulders sagging, their faces losing their hard edges. Two leaned against trees. One took his knife out of its sheath and began to toss it in the air and catch it, making ever more complex patterns as his mates cheered him on. Soon, they began to talk to each other - they spoke a strange language, clicking their tongues against their teeth to make a clacking noise. They chattered away around us, occasionally laughing, and their conversation grew so loud and animated I was able to talk to Kylie without interruption.

  “My head hurts,” she moaned. “I feel as if I drank a whole bottle of gin.”

  “I’m so sorry you’re in this mess, Kylie.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just put that creative brain of yours to work and come up with a way out of this.”

  “I have the beginnings of an idea,” I lied. “But I need to turn over. Are you OK if I have my back to you?” She nodded. I rocked my body a few times and then rolled back toward her, so that I was facing to the outside of the circle, my hands obscured by Kylie’s body. The raven-men were too busy chatting in their strange language to notice.

  I didn’t even have the inkling of a plan yet, but I knew any plan I did make would rely on my hands being free. And I could do something about that right now.

  During my second year of university, I’d been involved with an experimental-theatre group on campus. We used to perform these really trippy vignettes that were part modern magic, part contemporary dance, part we-smoked-way-too-much-weed. My speciality was performing in a magical act involving knot work, and I’d actually got quite good at slipping out of various knots. It was one of those weird talents that you know will never come in useful at any point in your adult life, but make excellent conversation starters when talking with hot photography students at the pub.

  Who knew it would actually come in useful? With the raven-men distracted by their own conversations, I went to work untangling myself. I knitted my fingers together, bending them up to test each of the cords that wrapped around me for tension. I found one that was loose, and shifted my fingers around until I was able to pinch it awkwardly between my thumb and index. Several more minutes of shifting and pulling and I had a loose knot that I could slip over one hand with ease. I pushed my hand back inside, and went back to waiting, my mind searching frantically for a way out.

  I heard a moan from the shack. The raven-men’s heads snapped up, their clacking tongues falling silent as their sharp eyes scanned the clearing. Silence fell on the clearing once more, as all of us turned our attention to the shack. I heard it again – another moan, faint but persistent. Someone was inside, and they were in a great amount of pain.

  The haunting moan was quickly stifled, snuffed out as though we weren’t to know it was there. But it was too late, for I had recognised the voice behind it. I was sure it was Clara! Melissa must be holding her and Marcus inside. They were right there, on the other side of the clearing, only metres from where I was being held.

  My body surged with hope. Clara is here, and she is alive. That meant I still had time to come up with a plan to save us
all. I slipped my hand out of the ropes again, flexed my wrist, and pushed it back inside. Time to put that expensive arts-school education to work, Alex, and come up with a creative solution.

  The hours drew on. I heard footsteps crunching against the leaves, the swoosh of a man pushing through the dense bush. A tall, thick man with muscles bulging from his bare chest entered the clearing. He was naked as well, with scraggly red hair falling over his eyes and a trail of dried blood down the front of his chest. He carried a large sack over his shoulder. Flies buzzed around the sack, darting into the man’s stony face as he waved at them angrily. The man threw it in front of Edgar. “I’m not doing that filthy job ever again,” he snarled. “The damn pooch slipped its chain and I had to chase it around for an hour before I finally brought it down.”

  “This should be the last time,” said Edgar. “We have all the ingredients for the spell now.” He opened the bag and inspected the contents, taking a deep sniff of the rotting, carrion smell. It’s another dogskin, I realised, my stomach churning. I tasted bile in my mouth as I thought about what that poor dog had gone through.

  Edgar tossed the sack down in the grass in front of him, only a couple of metres from where Kylie and I lay. I stared at that sack, the bottom discoloured from the poor animal’s blood, and an idea began to form in my mind. It was a crazy idea, but I figured it was probably our best shot.

  I glanced around, taking in the current situation with fresh eyes, assessing my chances at putting my plan into action. One of the raven-men had stood up and moved to the edge of the clearing, looking over the cliff, frowning at the sky. Edgar and the new shifter (I guess he was a fox, judging by the red hair), had their heads bent together in quiet, serious conversation. The other three raven-men stood around us, chatting with each other in their strange language.

  I shuffled closer to Kylie. “Alex?” she whispered. Not wanting to speak too much, and draw attention to ourselves, I wiggled my fingers at her, showing how I could move my hand in and out of my bonds. She beamed.

  “Meow!” Miss Havisham added from her cage, not wanting to be left out.

  “I have a plan. But I need you to distract them,” I whispered to Kylie. She gazed at me with wide eyes. She opened her mouth to ask me what was going on, but I shook my head. If they heard us talking, they would get suspicious, and I’d lose my chance.

  “In my pocket,” she whispered. “Spray my face.”

  I slipped my hand into my jeans, and pulled out the of small can of deodorant we’d used earlier. Kylie screwed her eyes shut and opened her mouth and I gave her a good spritz in the face. Immediately, she doubled over and started coughing violently, her whole body shuddering as it sought to expel the poison. I couldn’t believe it. Her face was going red and splotchy and her eyes were watering. She really looked like she was going to die.

  “Help her!” I yelled at the raven-men. “She’s got allergies and she dropped her inhaler on the path!”

  Three of the men rushed forward, pulling Kylie up by her arms. Her whole body was convulsing, her chest heaving so much I was certain she’d retch at any moment. The raven-men’s clicking noises turned to short, high-pitched caws. They seemed panicked, unsure of what to do. They dragged Kylie across the clearing, toward Edgar, who immediately bent down to inspect her.

  “We need water!” he bellowed.

  The raven near the cliff leapt off, his human body shifting mid-air into his bird-form. His loincloth fell through the air, but he swooped beneath it and caught it in his talons, then opened his wings wide and glided down into the valley below. Edgar was thumping Kylie’s back while she coughed and spluttered. (Because that’s a great way to look after someone who’s having an allergic reaction. I guess no one teaches ravens first aid.) Miss Havisham was yowling and jumping up and down. Everyone was distracted dealing with Kylie. Now was my chance.

  I fell forward, pulling my hand out of my knot. I dived into my bra and found the bottle of iridium. The sack lay on the ground in front of me, flies buzzing gleefully around it, enticed by the promise of a delicious feast. The stench of dead meat invaded my nostrils, every fibre of my body screamed at me to back away from that bag, but I had to touch it. I had to ... I screwed up my face as I reached out and pinched a corner between two fingers, not wanting to touch any more of that bloody sack than necessary. I pulled back the flap, and threw the bottle inside. When Isengrim threw the bag into the plume of magic fog, the heat would make the glass shatter and the iridium would be added to the explosion. At least, that was my hope.

  Now I just had to get Marcus, Clara, Kylie and myself away from the blast before that happened. If only I knew how to do that.

  2

  Dusk fell. We watched the sun set over the valley. It was quite a spectacular view – the fading light cast an ethereal haze over the treetops. The air cooled, and I soon found myself shivering in my t-shirt and damp, torn jeans. I hadn’t heard Ryan’s thoughts in my head all day, so I guessed he wasn’t nearby waiting to spring us free. I prayed that he was okay, but I had no way to find out for sure. We were truly on our own.

  “Get them up. It’s time to go.”

  I whirled around, and saw Melissa standing at the edge of the clearing, towering over Edgar in her spiked heels. Behind her were four large foxes, a makeshift gurney made of tree branches and rough hessian strapped to their backs. On the gurney was Clara, covered in a filthy blanket, with only her face visible. Her cheeks were bruised and cut up, and her eyes filled with pain. She blinked when she saw me, her lips opening a crack, but she didn’t cry out or say anything. I made to crawl toward her, but Melissa placed her foot on my chest, digging her stiletto heel into my ribs. I watched, my chest tightening, as the foxes disappeared into the forest with Clara. Six more emerged, carrying a large cage made of branches and wire, in which they held Marcus. It must’ve been protected with charms, too, for Marcus could only swipe feebly at his bonds. I only caught a glimpse of his blood-stained fur before they too disappeared into the trees.

  Melissa placed her fingers in her mouth and whistled again, and once again that great black cloud descended from the sky as the ravens dipped and swirled around the clearing. My ears thundered with the flapping of wings, and the whirlwind they whipped up in their frenzy caused a fresh flush of goosebumps to rise along my arms.

  A deep roar rose over the flapping of wings. I turned and squinted through the black swarm, and saw four stags and several does gathered at the edge of the clearing. One stag had a line of deep scratch marks down his face, and he eyed us warily. From her cage, Miss Havisham hissed, poking her claws through the wires. The stag stepped back abruptly, as if the sight of those two yellow eyes and swooshing calico tail filled him with fear. He must be the second stag from the cemetery, I realised, feeling a surge of pride for Miss Havisham and her needle-like claws. They had already been the death of many of my sweaters, and I hoped they’d cause pain to several more shifters before the night was through.

  Kylie squealed as one of the raven-men picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Her bound hands dangled down his back, in front of his glorious tattoo of two skeletal wings sticking out of his skin. Under normal circumstances, Kylie would have been glad of the attention from a guy like that – she did like really alternative, bad-boy types with tattoos. Her current on-again, off-again boyfriend Ray had an enormous Celtic cross covering his back. But this was not a normal circumstance.

  “Now you, Princess.” Edgar picked me up and threw me over his shoulders. My hand came loose from the ropes, but I slid it back in quickly, before anyone could notice.

  “I wish you all wouldn’t call me that,” I snapped in his ear. “Or, at least, if you’re going to insist on it, you’d start treating me like royalty.”

  “Oh, but we are,” he grinned back, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth, each one tipped with a glimmering gold cap. “If you were a normal prisoner, I would’ve pecked out your eyeballs and eaten them several hours ago.”

  “I’ll
consider myself lucky, then.”

  One of the raven-men grabbed Miss Havisham’s cage and hoisted that on to his shoulder, nearly losing his eye in the process as her claws scraped across his face. We marched toward the edge of the cliff, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I thought they were going to transform into birds, dive off the edge and carry us away in their talons. My stomach lurched as Edgar leaned forward and I peered out over the sheer drop below. Thankfully, Edgar pulled me back in again, grinning manically. There was a steep staircase cut into the rock on the end of the cliff. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. One by one, the naked shifters began to descend the steps, each step lurching my body, dangling it over the edge. If my stomach contained any lunch – for they hadn’t given us anything to eat all day – I would have lost it during that descent.

  Finally, we reached the bottom of the cliff, and started down a path through the next valley, looping back toward the village. As we walked, animals came down out of the trees or galloped through the forest to join our convoy, so we grew to become an almost comical marching band of snarling, nickering, chirping, squeaking, and chittering. There was no path here – the animals were likely following a scent trail they’d laid down earlier. Edgar pushed through the thick trees, springing branches back to scrape at my face and arms. I covered my face with my hands and shut my eyes, not wanting to lose my eyeballs on a sharp tree branch any more than I wanted to lose them on Edgar’s sharp talons.