Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series

by Steffanie Holmes

  The journey took some time, maybe two hours … it was hard to tell without a phone to check the time. The ground sloped down deep into the valley and up again, rising along a ridge where we again had a spectacular view of the village as twilight became darkness. Lights twinkled below, and cars zoomed down the high street, where people dined around the glowing flames of outdoor braziers.

  The forest thinned out a bit, and I started to recognise the landscape – we passed over the road where we had driven last night. I glanced around the bushes, searching for a glimpse of Ryan. Surely he would be nearby, knowing that Isengrim planned to perform the ritual tonight. Unless he met up with Isengrim, and ...

  No, I couldn’t think about that. I wouldn’t believe it was true. Ryan was strong, stronger than Isengrim, and much cleverer. If he’d been hurt, I would know it. I was his mate. I would sense it.

  I saw no flash of red, no familiar brown eyes peering out at me from between the trees. I searched my mind, pushing out my fear and my discomfort to search for him there. But I couldn’t hear or sense a thing.

  We entered the cemetery from a small gate at the rear, on the opposite side from the car park. I saw a scorched circle in the ground from where the spell had backfired the night before. In the centre of that circle were Clara and Marcus. They were tied together, Marcus still in his fox form, his fur and Clara’s face caked with dried blood. They were surrounded by a growling mob of foxes – the vulpines’ teeth bared as they guarded their quarry.

  Panic rose in my throat when I saw them. I had no idea how I was going to get them away. Clara looked to be in bad shape, her head hanging limply from her sagging shoulders, eyes staring at the dirt. I had no idea what would happen to us humans when my little iridium bomb went off, but it would be deadly for Marcus if I couldn’t get him away. I was starting to have serious doubts about my ability to pull this off. I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing out the thought. Ryan, where are you? I need you by my side.

  Melissa marched up to one of the stags, and addressed him in English. “Where is Isengrim?”

  The stag shook his head, snorting and stamping a hoof against the ground, leaving a dent in the soft grass. I shivered, remembering how close Kylie had come to being trampled and spiked by a similar creature.

  “He’s not here?” The stag shook his head ferociously.

  Isengrim’s not here? Hope surged in my stomach. There was no way the wolf would miss this ritual. Not unless … Ryan got to him first.

  “We don’t know where he is,” a naked man with short, cropped red hair said. He was leaning against a crooked gravestone, chewing on a leg of raw meat. I shuddered to think where he’d gotten that from. “We thought he was with you.”

  Melissa looked up at the sky. “We can’t wait for him. If we don’t do this tonight, we won’t get another chance for at least a month. Take these two into the circle. Four sacrifices should be more than sufficient.”

  Sacrifices. I didn’t like the sound of that. I elbowed Edgar in the back, trying to twist my body around so I had some control over my legs. But he held on tight, cackling at me with a high-pitched voice as he grabbed my legs and threw me down in the cold, damp dirt. Pain reverberated throughout my body as I hit the ground hard. They threw Kylie down beside me. She sobbed as her head bounced on the dirt. Marcus pulled his body closer to her, and nudged her hair with his snout. She turned to him and smiled weakly. He bent down over her, nuzzling her face and licking her cheek – a surprisingly tender moment for the usually angry mutt.

  I wriggled closer to Ryan’s mother. “Clara, are you OK?”

  She turned her head slowly toward me, and gave me a shaky smile. Her face was bruised and beaten, the thin skin on her cheeks peeling away in long, thin strips. Dried blood was caked to her forehead and chin. “I’ll be fine, dear,” she said, but her voice was weak, croaking. She held up her bound arms, showing me a deep cut along her forearm. “They’ve taken a lot of blood.”

  Rage boiled inside me to see the way they’d treated her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a plan. I think. But we have to wait for the right time. Do you think you’ll be able to walk?”

  “If I’m walking away from them,” she croaked, “I’ll find the strength.”

  I tried to smile reassuringly, but I suspect it came out more like a grimace. We watched from our circle of captors as more shifters descended on the cemetery. This time, there were several in human form; their lithe, naked bodies wandering through the gravestones like some kind of bizarre Marilyn Manson music video. They gathered in a circle around us, their feet and paws just touching the edge of the scorched earth upon which we sat. Melissa paced around the circle, kicking off her spiked heels. She stared up at the sky, then down at a watch on her wrist. I couldn’t see Isengrim anywhere.

  Damn. I’d hoped that I’d at least be able to get him, too.

  Melissa came over to where we were huddled and kicked at me with her bare foot, sending a clot of loose dirt into my face. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite little slut. Where’s your little boyfriend now, Princess? Where’s the great hero, Ryan Raynard? Nowhere, that’s where, because he doesn’t care about anyone apart from himself.”

  Marcus looked up at her, and growled. She smirked. “There, there, little mutt. You don’t have to defend him. It’s a pity you didn’t stick with us. You could have killed him with your own claws. Instead, you’re going to die for him, and he isn’t even here to witness your sacrifice. It seems fitting – you were always his shadow.”

  Marcus tugged against his bonds, snapping his jaws at her face. She laughed, darting back, just out of his reach.

  Melissa’s face began to change, her elegant nose growing long, the tip becoming black and moist. Her red lips stretched across her face, curling back into his her to become a strong, canine jaw. She dropped to all fours, her legs shrinking and bending in ways no human legs should bend. In a few moments she was in her fox form – a beautiful vixen with a deep red coat and glowing, triumphant emerald eyes. She gave us one last look of utter disdain, and turned away to begin the ritual.

  She marched around the circle, throwing back her head and howling. Being a fox, her howl wasn’t nearly as loud or menacing as Isengrim’s, but it had its own high, haunting pitch – almost like the wail of a banshee.

  The other animals joined in her call, throwing back their heads and creating a great cacophony. The deep rumble of the stags’ roar, the piercing caw of the crows, the bay of the foxes … all these mingled together in a wild symphony that grew louder and more dissonant as their voices melded into one great rumble.

  Beneath me, the ground began to grow warm. A great energy swelled up from within the earth, rising up all around us. At first it was just a sensation, dark and hot and charged with electricity. But then it grew a form – a great swirl of grey fog, a whirling, spinning tornado of dark magic that reached higher and higher. Soon, I could barely see the outline of the cemetery beyond, the crumbling tombstones and waiting circle of creatures fading into shadow as the fog thickened around us.

  The fog shifted and twisted around me, tendrils reaching out to graze my cold skin. It felt strangely solid, like cold, slimy spaghetti sliding over my arm. But, thankfully, it was also thick, and impossible to see through. As soon as I was certain it had obscured us from Melissa’s vision, I pulled my hand free, reached down and freed my ankles. Then, I crawled across the warm earth and untied Marcus.

  His eyes widened when he saw what I was doing. “You have to listen to me,” I said. “As soon as we are all free, you need to take Miss Havisham and run for the forest. Melissa won’t risk breaking the ritual to go after you, but it will provide the distraction I need to get the others free. Find Ryan if he is nearby, but both of you need to keep well away from the cemetery. You have to trust me on that. I’ll get Kylie and your mother out, I promise. But you need to get away. Got it?”

  He nodded his head, nudging my hand with his snout, urging me to continue with my plan. I pulled his paws free
and he got to work on Clara, grabbing her hands with a tenderness I’d not seen before in the large, sandy fox, and biting though her ropes. I turned to Kylie, and within the minute I had her untied. She flexed her wrists and ankles, kicking off the remains of her shoes and wincing as she felt the welts where the rope had bitten. “Thank god for your sordid history as a performance artist,” she said.

  “And to think I only did it to meet guys.” I embraced the sandy fox, then pointed to the fog. “Go now, Marcus!”

  He cast one last, torn look at us, then grabbed Miss Havisham’s cage in his jaws and leapt through the wall of fog. Kylie cried out as she saw him go, and tried to follow him, but I pulled her down as the fog rolled over us, completely obscuring my vision. I didn’t have time to explain to her.

  The howl of the animals drummed inside my head. I longed to jam my hands against my ears, but I didn’t think it would do any good. It was as if the sound came from inside my head, so intense it was that it welled up within me, filling every part of me with noise that was like pain. I gritted my teeth, forced my eyes open. I had to choose the perfect time.

  The fog had formed a kind of static tornado, swirling around us in a great, thick column that stretched toward the heavens. We were in the eye of it, a kind of hollow in the centre of the circle where the fog did not reach. Glowing lights were sucked up through the earth and swirled through the plume. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I realised they were not simply lights, they were body parts. Limbs curled in pain, fingers grasping for air, torsos twisted with agony, the skin sunken against cracked ribcages. Faces frozen in agony, mouths open in silent screams. As they were pulled from the ground and lifted upward, the howling intensified, growing higher in pitch, like the wail of a banshee. We’d seen them before, last night when we’d watched the ritual from our hiding spot, but up close they were infinitely more terrifying, more real.

  I pulled Kylie to her feet, and together we lifted Clara, holding her under her arms to keep her steady. The fog was expanding, moving outward toward the edge of the blackened circle. I remembered that as soon as the plume had hit the edge of the line of the circle drawn in blood and piss, Isengrim had thrown the skin inside. It couldn’t be long now.

  We have to get out, now.

  I flung Clara’s arm over my shoulders, holding her wrist with my right hand. With my left, I reached across her thin frame to grasp Kylie’s shoulder. I took a deep breath. Before Kylie could protest, I pulled them both into the fog.

  It felt strange, like moving through treacle, or pushing through a vat of thick tomato soup. I swung out with my legs, trying to use my calf muscles to pull us through to the other side. I turned around to see what Kylie was doing, but I couldn’t see anything through the fog. I looked down, but my own body was completely lost in the grey, swirling miasma. I coughed as the fog invaded my nose and mouth, and I was gulping in the sweet, cloying scent of it, like fresh dirt on a summer’s day.

  Clara’s tiny hand squeezed my arm, her fingernails gripping me like talons. I was grateful for the pain arcing up my arm, for it assured me that she was still there. I took another slow step, my foot hanging suspended in the thick fog before once again landing on solid earth.

  Fear sank in my gut as I fought against the strange, syrupy fog. Would we make it out before Melissa tossed that bag inside? What would happen to us when we tried to cross the line of blood? Was Marcus far enough away that it wouldn’t hurt him? What about Ryan?

  Ryan, I wish you were here. I wish I didn’t have to do this on my own. But you've got to stay away. Stay away.

  The fog swirled all around us, the faces floating past my vision, their haunted eyes and rotting skin illuminated by pale, ethereal light. All had their mouths hanging open, as if calling to me to help them. Outside, the animals’ cry grew louder still, the cone of power rising up around the circle. Soon it would trap us inside.

  I shut my eyes tight so I didn’t have to see the horrid, tortured faces as they appeared in the mists, their hollow eyes and silent screams just inches from my face. I pushed my way blindly through the fog, thrusting my hand forward, and feeling it punch through the syrup and enter the cold air of the graveyard outside. I stepped through the plume, yanking Kylie and Clara through after me. There was only just enough space for us to stand on the edge of the blood line, teetering before an unknown abyss. Melissa was stalking around the edge of the circle, leading the call. She saw us, and her emerald eyes blazed with rage. She barrelled toward us, the sack bouncing in her teeth.

  The howling grew intense. The plume pushed us outward, shuffling our feet closer to the edge. I held Clara’s hand. “Jump!” I cried. We flew through the air just as Melissa pounced.

  As I sailed through the air, I saw the sack flying too, soaring over my head and falling into the dense, hot fog. Melissa’s claws landed on my shoulders, but at the wrong angle, so she pushed me down and forward, instead of back into the circle. I landed hard on my face – pain shooting through my nose and cheek – and twisted my body around, pulling my hands over my head to protect myself.

  From the plume rose a great roar, as though some ancient, primal being had risen up from its tomb. I forced one eye open, daring a glance at what was going on. The faces in the fog changed shape, morphing from tortured human bodies into grim, spectral dogs, their lean black bodies poised for attack, their lips pulled back into cruel snarls, teeth dripping with saliva. The barghests.

  There must have been a hundred of them, all swirling and pouncing within the great plume of fog. Each one wore a great, spiked iron collar, a symbol of their fealty to Isengrim.

  The dogs bounded around the edge of the blood circle, spectral teeth bared, backs arched, ready to break free and join Isengrim’s army, ready to march into war. The shifters howled with triumph. I knew that any moment now they would get a terrible shock–

  The world exploded.

  All I saw was white. White everywhere. White in my eyes. White behind my eyes. A brilliant light, so complete that it blocked out all other senses. I heard nothing, saw nothing, tasted nothing but that pure white serenity. I lost myself in it, unsure of whether it was part of the world or the beginning of my next life. It was always said that if you died, and you saw a light, you should step into it. Step into the light, they said. Well, I was surrounded by light, swimming in it, feeling its heat against my skin. I had become the light.

  I opened my eyes, but all I could see was the soft, warm light pressing against my vision. Was I blind? Had the explosion robbed me of sight? Or was I staring into the deep hot chasm of hell itself? I lay with my back against the earth, staring up at the sky with eyes that did not see, and waited for my senses to return.

  They did, slowly. I started to hear again, the sounds faint at first, glimpses of a far-off world. But then they became louder, more immediate. They were the sounds of agony. All around me, I heard screams – pain-filled wails of terror. I lifted my head, watching the white fading at the corners of my eyes, and the colour of the world returned.

  The world was red.

  The plume had vanished, the grey fog dissipating into the air, carrying with it the last of the haunting barks of the barghests. All that was left was red, red, red. Slick with the blood of an army of shifters, dripping with streaks of crimson like a wild Castiglia painting. The cemetery was destroyed – the gravestones were shattered, the ground dug up by the explosion, centuries-old bones thrown up from the dirt and strewn across the burned, broken earth. The charred earth was littered with the gory, broken, remains of Isengrim’s army.

  Something heavy fell on my back. I reached up and grabbed a handful of fur. Thinking it might be a shifter about to bite my neck, I flung my body over, tugging the creature off my body. Surprisingly, it came away easily. I felt something wet on my hands. Blood. I was covered in blood.

  I stared at the mangled lump of meat I’d pushed off me. When I saw it illuminated under the moonlight. I recognised the red pelt, the lifeless emerald eyes staring up at the moon
. Melissa. Her head, or what was left with it, sat in a puddle of blood a few feet from my body. I was holding one of her hind legs.

  I threw it to the ground, bile rising in my throat as my vision swelled and blurred. All around me the bodies of shifters lay in piles of blood. Everything was stained a warm, violent red. There was no sound, only the ringing in my ears from the explosion, and the faint, faraway barking of the barghests as their spirits were borne away on the wind.

  I had done it. I had slain Isengrim’s entire army.

  I heard someone yelling, calling my name, but they sounded far away, as if they were calling to me through a great body of water. Hands grabbed me under the arms, hoisting me up, dragging me away. I knew I should be concerned about this, but a sudden flush of warmth flowed through my body, my fingers and toes suddenly numb with heat. It was the red – it crept in at the corners of my vision, pulling warmth inside of me. My ears buzzed. I closed my eyes, and the redness swallowed me. And I faded away.

  3

  “Alex? ALEX?”

  My eyelids fluttered open. Ryan’s face loomed over mine, his expression drawn, his face streaked with blood. I watched his mouth move as he called my name, barely registering the sound of it over the ringing in my ears. Seeing him made my whole body surge with relief. He's here. He was either alive, or a ghost, but whatever he was, he was holding me, and that was all I wanted in the world.

  Ryan grasped my shoulders and shook me. My head – no longer controlled by my body – flopped about violently.

  “Don’t do that. She’s in shock.” Someone scolded him.

  “You’re alive. Oh, god, you’re alive.” He stopped shaking me, and pulled me tight against him, trying to pull me right inside of him. Our ribs crushed together, like a vice clamping against me, causing pain to surge across my chest. I coughed as his embrace squeezed the air out of me, forcing the bile from my stomach.