by Trisha Telep
“Looks like it,” I answered. What the bartender call it? A bothy? It was the only dwelling around, so it had to be it. “Turn there,” I said suddenly, noticing a narrow lane veering off towards the cottage. “Has to be the only way over there.”
“Right.” Pax followed the dirt and rock lane as it wound across the moors, straight towards the bothy. Several minutes later we pulled in front of the cottage, parked, and jumped out. I reached the door to the cottage first, so I knocked.
No answer.
I glanced at Pax, then knocked again – louder. “Mr MacLeod?” I said, close to the door. “It’s Ginger Slater from WUP. We spoke on the phone?” I put my hand on the door knob and Pax stopped me.
“Never enter a situation without your gear, newbie,” he said, and shoved my pack at me, and I was surprised to see he had his stunner – a ten-inch stainless steel electric probe that packed enough voltage to bring down a horse, or a madman – palmed. Pushing ahead, he opened the door and stepped inside. Feeling like an idiot, I followed. The interior was dim, save the fireplace which had something – not wood – smouldering in the hearth. It smelled earthy. One lamp burned in the corner, next to a recliner and side table; a book lay open, pages face down, spine creased outward. A beer bottle sat beside it.
“MacLeod?” Pax said, his voice stern, throaty, a little threatening. “You in here?” He glanced at me, pointed across the room, then inclined his head towards a hallway, and I nodded. As I pulled my own stunner from my pack, he disappeared down the hall, and I eased towards the only other room visible. I stopped at the side table and grasped the beer bottle; it was still cool and half-full. My fingers tightly gripped the hilt of the stunner, I held my breath, and pushed open the kitchen door.
I never saw inside the room.
A figure lunged at me, knocking me backward several feet where I landed hard on my back. My stunner flew from my hand and skidded somewhere across the floor. I couldn’t scream – the air whooshed from my lungs in one gush, my eyes widened, but I saw nothing but … mass. Bulk. Shadow. Eyes. It hovered over me, blocking my view, crowding my body, my senses. I couldn’t breathe as it was but fear paralyzed me even more. What the hell? Then, in the next instant, the figure leapt and was out the door. Rolling to my stomach, I turned, coughing and sputtering as I tried to call out but the air wouldn’t come. Whoever had just knocked me over was strong as hell – and gone.
Pax emerged, his stunner raised. He glanced at me. “You okay?”
I nodded and waved, still a little in shock, and Pax nodded once before he disappeared out the front door.
It was no more than three minutes before I finally caught my breath enough to stand. Then, I got up, found my stunner against the wall, and ran after Pax.
As I stood outside the cottage, peering through the now-soupy Highland mist and darkening skies, my mind raced wildly, and I recalled Lucian MacLeod’s phone call. How experienced are you with curses? Creatures? How strong is your stomach, girl? You’re my last hope … It hadn’t made much sense then – I’d had cases with curses before, and a few involving shape-shifting. Both were handled similarly by binding the victim and searching for the correct curse-reversal – or shape-shifter cure. I’d had one victim shift into a hawk right before my eyes—
A long, deep sound of an animal baying broke through the twilight and mist; it raised the hairs on the back of my neck and quickened my pulse. As my gaze raked slowly over the ground, I fished inside my pack, felt the cool steel beneath my palm, and withdrew my crossbow. I saw nothing out of the ordinary as I assembled the bow and loaded the clip with blades. But a sense of foreboding filled me, choked me, and my insides shook as I eased away from the cottage. I couldn’t see a damn thing through the mist; barely my own hand in front of my face. The constant drizzle and heavy mist weighed my hair down, soaked through my jeans, and although twilight was nearly at its end, I eased on to the moors. No way was I hanging out at the cottage alone.
“Pax?” I called out, picking my footing carefully, straining my eyes as I tried to make out my partner’s form. “Hey? Where are you?” Dammit, he couldn’t have gone too far. We were in the middle of nowhere.
Within minutes my slow movements had carried me far enough away into the mist that I could no longer make out the cottage. Thick white surrounded me, and at once I caught the distinct sound of breathing – heavy breathing – not far from me.
“Pax?” I called again. “Come on, you’re freaking me out.”
The breathing drew closer.
And became an angry snarl.
I was being stalked. My heart leapt, and I turned and changed direction. That noise hadn’t come from my partner – that much I knew. Pax was an ass but he wasn’t stupid. I began to hurry, my pace quickening, and just when I thought I was making some ground, it came again.
Closer.
My grip tightened on my bow as I raised it; while I wanted to run like hell, I knew it’d do no good. Something was on the moors, in the mist, with me. I swallowed – hard. It didn’t help. My heart beat so hard and so fast I could hear it out loud. I waited.
“Gin, run!”
I whipped around and saw the hazy shape of someone moving towards me; Pax’s voice spilled over the foggy white, commanding me to run, but I couldn’t. I stood frozen in place, confused, scared. I looked up, and only then did I notice the moon above me; it was crescent in shape, and – I blinked my eyes – red. The damn thing looked red.
“Ginger, goddamit, get the hell outta here!” Pax yelled, panic making his voice shake.
I watched as he grew closer, his features clearer, and finally, I turned. I had no idea what direction to run in. I glanced back. “Pax, I—”
Something large, something dark, fast, leapt from below the mist and pulled Pax down. He screamed, so shrill and so terrifying that it made my blood feel cold. An awful crunching sound echoed through the fog.
One last, horrifying, gurgling sound emerged from my partner before the silence hit. Silence, save the heavy breathing that definitely didn’t belong to Pax.
Whatever had been shut down in me now flickered to life; I turned and ran. Blindly, as darkness now sifted through the mist and red hue from the moon. My boots scuffed clumps of heather and grass as I hurried, but it didn’t mask the sound of footsteps behind me. Footsteps and that damned breathing. Finally, with my heart in my throat, I stopped, dropped to one knee and lifted my crossbow. I stared down the site and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long.
With a deep growl and heavy breath, a massive figure lunged from the mist at me; I didn’t wait to see who or what it was. I fired three rounds before it landed on me, and the pain of two sharp blades piercing straight through my leather jacket and into my shoulder made me cry out. The blades sank clear to the bone, and the intenseness of it made me nearly pass out. Suddenly, the mass was shoved off, another figure appeared above me, and a pair of angry, lethal amber eyes glared down. Then, my vision fogged. Fiery pain ripped through my body just before a wave of suffocating blackness swept me into nothingness.
Heat. Fire. Skin burning. I sat up with a harsh breath, confusion taking over my brain and making me dizzy. I put a hand to my temple to stop the swirling, but it didn’t help. I opened my eyes but everything looked blurred, fuzzy, out of focus. My skin – Jesus, it felt like it would burst into flames – burned sickly hot. I tried kicking out of whatever covered me and I quickly found I hadn’t a stitch of clothes on. Not even panties. Totally naked and I couldn’t care less. I was smouldering.
“Lay back.”
I turned my head towards the voice, but could see nothing more than a hazy figure in shadows. “Where am I?” I asked, struggling to stay up. I dug the heels of both hands hard into the mattress; my arms still shook. “Hot,” I said, trying to move. “Burning up.”
A firm hand pressed against my chest and with the slightest of pressure, eased me back. “’Tis your DNA altering,” the voice said, deep, raspy, and heavily brogued. “It will
get worse.”
What the hell was he talking about? DNA? I didn’t care – I just wanted relief. “Water,” I said, my throat dry. I wanted my body extinguished. “Bath. Shower. Ice.” My eyes drifted shut.
Strong fingers pushed the hair from my face. “It willna help.” Agony washed over me, and blessed shadows dragged me back under.
A crackling and snapping noise awakened me and when I opened my eyes, I instantly noticed the pain had subsided. I blinked several times to clear my vision; foggy and disoriented at first, then slowly, the room came into focus. I stared hard at my surroundings. In the hearth, a low fire glowed, and again I noticed the earthy scent it released. The flames gave the room a tawny hue, and shadows played against the bare stone walls. A single lamp burned in the corner, on a side table next to a leather recliner.
I sat straight up and gasped, breathless, as recognition and memories assailed me. WUP. Assignment. Scotland. Moors. I glanced around once more.
I was inside Lucian MacLeod’s cottage.
Worse memories – recent ones – assaulted me and my body jerked as they crowded my mind. Pax. Baying. Creature. Pain. Bones crunching.
“Pax!” I shouted, although it came out gravel, hoarse, broken. I struggled to untangle myself from the bed covers, anger and fear causing a sob to escape. “Pax—”
“You’re partner isna here,” a deep, brogued voice came from the shadows. “’Tis only you.”
I pulled up the sheet to cover my nakedness. “Who the hell are you?” I asked, scanning the room for the speaker. “Where’s my partner?”
Then, a slight movement from a darkened corner caught my eye; a figure rose and moved into the firelight. Dark, wavy hair brushed his shoulders; a white, long-sleeved shirt, loosely buttoned, hung casually untucked against a pair of worn jeans. A pair of silvery-blue eyes stared down at me. A small scar, just below his left eye, marred otherwise flawless pale skin.
“I’m Lucian MacLeod. Your partner is dead,” he said, matter-of-fact and seemingly without remorse. His uncanny gaze bore angrily into mine. “You were no’ to come here.”
I stared, disbelieving, yet … I knew. Those sounds hadn’t come from a surviving victim. I still questioned it. “Dead?” I asked, and suddenly I was afraid – of Lucian. I wanted to run, get away. Panic gripped my insides. “What do you mean?” I slid slowly to the edge of the bed and swung my legs over. I briefly wondered where my gear bag was and I gave the room a quick scan but didn’t see it.
“You’re no’ the same, Ms Slater,” he said. He didn’t move. “Not the same person you were when you arrived. And you’re no’ leavin’ here.”
I leapt from the bed and hit the floor running, sheet pulled tightly around me. I didn’t know where I thought I was going, barefoot and naked, but I was going.
I was caught and slammed against the wall before I ever got close to the door. Lucian’s large frame towered over me, crowded my body with his and sufficiently trapped me; he placed a hand on either side of my head then lowered his head to look me in the eye. I breathed hard, my heart slammed, and I stared furiously back.
“You’re no’ listening, Ms Slater,” he began slowly. “You’re no’ leaving.”
“The hell I am,” I ground out, and pushed against him. It was like trying to move a rock. It only made him draw closer.
“What do you remember about that eve on the moors?” he asked, his eyes lowering to my mouth. “Tell me.”
My mind spun and suddenly, the memory returned. I immediately lifted a hand to my shoulder. “We came here looking for you, but you were no where. There was a lot of thick mist, and Pax – he chased someone out of here. He was attacked. By a big dog maybe. I couldn’t tell what it was.” I lifted my chin and met Lucian’s gaze straight-on. “It turned on me and I shot it.”
Lucian’s hand moved from the side of my head to my bare shoulder. Calluses raked over my skin, and I couldn’t help it – I shivered. “You were bitten.” He grazed the flesh again. “By a wolf.”
My gaze left Lucian’s and I glanced down, at my shoulder. His fingers brushed over two puncture marks; the skin puckered but healed. I looked back at him. I couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”
“You’ve been here nearly three weeks,” he said.
My knees gave out and Lucian caught me. I sagged against his body, felt the warmth – intense warmth – of his arms around me as he lifted me. He carried me to the bed and settled me down. He leaned over me, and his hair brushed my collar bone.
“You were never supposed to be here,” he said, his raspy voice sounding regretful. “Only Agent Terragon.” He shook his head. “I requested just him. No’ you.”
I didn’t understand; nothing made sense. A freaking wolf? The flames from the hearth flickered and caused shadows to play against Lucian’s face, making his already-forceful stare even weightier. I was mesmerized by it. His face, I mean. He was … beautiful. It bothered me that I even noticed. I quickly looked away, cleared my throat, and pulled the sheet taut across my breasts.
“Why?” I asked, needing to know more. Needing to know what was so important that Pax had to die. “Why did you call WUP? And why didn’t you tell us what we were walking into?”
Lucian turned his face from me and shoved a hand through his hair. “How well versed are you on ancient curses, Ms Slater?” he said, facing the wall.
I sighed and looked at his back, watched the material pull across his shoulders. “I’m a new agent. I’ve only studied curses for a couple of years, and have been training with Pax for just a few months.”
He turned then, his face all sharp planes and shadows. All except his eyes. They literally glowed. I gasped.
“I didna mean for you to get involved,” Lucian said, his voice grave. “We only wanted help.” Grasping his shirt tail, he lifted it, exposing a long, lean abdomen ripped with muscle – and a fresh, healing wound in the shape of a ragged star, just at his ribcage. His head raised, his gaze met mine. “You shot me, Ms Slater.”
I blinked, stunned. My mind reeled, thoughts pounding the inside of my skull until it ached. “That thing was not you,” I said, almost a whisper.
“Aye,” Lucian said. “It most certainly was.” He stared down at me. “And within the week, ’twill be you, as well.”
My body went numb with shock; it was too much to take in and I wasn’t positive I believed any of it. Inside, I began to shake. I’d not been ready to take on an assignment. I was too new – a newbie. Pax had been right all along. I was treading in unfamiliar territory now and doing it totally alone.
“Here,” Lucian said, tossing a bag onto the bed. “Get dressed. We’ve things to talk about and time’s runnin’ out.”
We sat at a well-used oak table in the kitchen, across from each other, and I was on my third – yes, third – hamburger steak. No bread, nothing else but the meat. I was ravenous and could have eaten the whole cow, if given it. I felt guilty for eating, yet I couldn’t make myself stop.
A single bulb hung over the table, leaving the tiny kitchen barely illuminated. Lucian regarded me closely while I ate, watching every move I made. More than once he followed my fork to my mouth and let it linger. It caused my insides to grow uncomfortably hot. Outside, the rain continued, the wind picked up and slashed at the cottage’s window panes. Every so often a lightening bolt would flash and light up a darkened corner. I don’t know why but I kept thinking I’d see something horrifying. I didn’t. Finally, I’d had enough and I pushed my plate away.
“Thanks,” I said. I looked at Lucian. “Why can’t I remember the past three weeks?”
“You’ve been transitioning,” he replied, lacing his fingers together on the table. “Your DNA is altering at a high rate. Your core temperature rises and it exhausts your body. You mostly slept.”
I nodded, liking the way his r’s rolled, then looked at him. Hard. “Did you kill my partner?”
“No.”
My gaze never left his. I didn’t believe him. “You tried to
kill me.”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping low. “You dunna know what was behind you when I leapt at you.”
My blood ran cold; a new memory hit me. “I remember you falling on top of me, and someone else shoved you off.” I thought hard. “I remember angry, amber eyes.”
“’Twas Tristan. My kinsman,” he answered.
My eyes stretched. “There are more of you?” I shook my head, scrubbed my eyes, then met his gaze. “Who are you?”
Lucian sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s just say I was born this way,” he said. “A verra long time ago. ’Tis my MacLeod bloodline, no’ a curse. We have honour. A code. Rules we abide by.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “But there are others. Dangerous rogues. Lawless, with no regard to human life. At first, there were very few.” He looked at me. “But they’ve bred. They’ve bitten. And they’re out o’ control.” His eyes smouldered. “They kill for nothin’ more than reckless pleasure.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I couldna save your partner. But there were more than one and it was either him, or you.” His gaze pinned me. “I chose you.”
I felt glad, and that made me feel guilty. “What happened to Pax’s body?” I asked. “What about WUP? Didn’t they come looking for us?”
“Aye,” he answered. He rose and walked to the window and peered out. “Another agent came, after I called. He looked about, asked a few questions, and left.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “The others – they took your partner.”
“Took?” I asked incredulously, rose and set my dishes in the sink. I crossed the room and leaned against the wall – a safe distance away from Lucian. “What do you mean?”
Lucian stepped towards me. “They did no’ kill him. He’ll become one of them.”
