The tip of her tongue darted across her dry lips as she swiftly weighed her words. Before she'd introduced herself, she hadn't stopped to consider that the band could be in cahoots with the child thief. A stupid mistake and one she couldn't retract. Following a brief internal debate, she decided to follow her initial instincts.
Summoning her power, Victoria infused her song with her own personal magic. She shared the heart-breaking visions of the kidnapped children and the few details she had of the monster. Her howl embodied loathing and loss, imperative and immediacy.
The coyote Alpha's howl cut her off mid-refrain. Are you going to kill the bastard?
Based on the proximity, he was moving closer to her.
Annoyed at the interruption, she swallowed her pride over the insult to her honor. Practicality demanded it. Besides, no one expected coyotes to respect social niceties. With equal brusqueness, Victoria viciously roared, Yes.
He waited until the curl on her snarl faded before he released a short series of yips. Talk to the mutt in the alley behind the grocery store.
Victoria scowled. "Asshole," she muttered. "I've got no more idea where the grocery store is than I do–"
Across the street, a man stepped into the open, emerging from some overgrown bushes. His tattered clothing included a long coat that hung to mid-calf. The garment concealed his build. He was bigger than her, though that was true of almost everyone.
"I'm Silver," he said. "Only my friends are allowed to call me asshole."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hate your name," Victoria said in lieu of a greeting.
Long silvery hair hung in a tangled mess about the coyote shifter's face and shoulders, obscuring his features. His smoky baritone smirked. "Yeah, well, you're the trespasser in my territory."
Even at a hundred feet, Victoria's nose confirmed he wasn't as unwashed as one would've assumed at a glance. Grunge seemed to be his personal style rather than the artifact of poverty. She bared her teeth and beckoned him with a crooked finger. "You want to challenge me or tell me where to find the damn monster?"
"Go about a mile that way." With a graceful sweep of his long arm, he pointed with one finger. "There's a stray dog that lives in the alley behind the grocery store. He can take you to the beast."
"Why don't you show me?" Appraising him, Victoria stepped into the street. To his credit, Silver held his ground. "Better yet, how about helping me kill it?"
"Not my problem, especially not with hunters in the area," he said with a curl of aggression in his voice. "Besides, a wolf doesn't need mere coyotes, does she? You have your pack..."
"It's murdering children."
He stiffened, and his scent soured with anger. "Not my problem."
"Coward." Victoria hissed, exhaling between clenched teeth. Her hair and clothing were drenched, she hadn't eaten in two days, and the lives of children were endangered. She didn't have time for this bullshit.
"I like living."
Disgusted, she turned away from him. In a deliberately scornful tone, she tossed over her shoulder, "Thanks for the help."
"Hey! We aren't through." Silver's volume spiked. His steps splashed through puddles on the pavement as he followed her.
"We're through." She kept walking, hiking in the direction he'd indicated. With any luck, he hadn't lied. The bright spot in the whole awful situation was the moment when the rain finally ceased. Although, it wasn't as if her soaked clothing could get any wetter.
Swift footsteps trailed her. "I can't risk the lives of my people for a bunch of human kids."
"Whatever." She picked up her pace, dropping into a swift run.
Up ahead, she spied a strip mall that had a small food retailer as the anchor store. The market wasn't far from where she'd met June Fraiser's spirit. Ghosts tended to either haunt the scenes of their deaths or an area with powerful emotional significance.
"Rumor has it, Jake Barrett's in town," Silver called out from behind her.
"I know." She dropped to a walk. "We think he's here after the child thief."
"Funny." He scoffed, ratcheting the noise to a full throated laugh. "We figured he was hunting wolves."
Pointedly ignoring him, Victoria looked around. A couple lonely vehicles occupied the otherwise deserted parking lot. Tall lamps cast long streaks of light that stretched across the glistening wet pavement. All the businesses were already closed, and their employees had gone home.
She spun toward Silver. "Is this the right place?"
He rocked back. "Yeah, this is it. You'll find the mutt in the alley around back. He lives behind the dumpsters."
"Thanks for the info." She arched her brow and stared. The unruly tresses concealing his face prevented her from capturing his gaze. When Silver skulked away, a hollow pang of disappointment filled her belly. At the same time, her reaction puzzled her. She wasn't naive. Coyotes had reputations as resilient survivors, not foolhardy heroes.
Following the paved sidewalk, she rounded the corner and entered the alley behind the stores. Posted signs designated the area for deliveries. An eight-foot brick wall lined with steel dumpsters ran the length of the business complex. Despite the recent rainfall, the area smelled like motor oil and rotting garbage.
When she entered the backstreet, a rumbling growl emerged from between two trash bins. Victoria swung toward the sound. Her posture flowed to a predatory stance, prepared and close to the ground. By scent, she identified the source of the sound as another canine.
A big dog emerged from the shadows, menacing her with a constant rumble and bared teeth. His ruff bristled, and he walked stiff-legged. He had the black and tan markings of a Rottweiler, but the shape of his head and body suggested he was a Shepherd mix.
"Hey, boy," Victoria said, adopting a soothing tone. She dropped to a crouch to appear less threatening. The animal was big but posed no real threat to her.
With his ears flattened against his skull, the dog postured and barked furiously at her. He advanced even closer, growling deep in his throat.
"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." She extended her hand and stared into his eyes, exerting her influence as Alpha to calm his fear.
Gradually, the dog's anxiety decreased and then ceased altogether. His ears rose to high points, and his stubby tail quivered. He sniffed suspiciously at her proffered fingers and blew moist, hot breath across her skin. When he identified her scent as that of a far more dangerous predator, a tremor traveled the length of his body.
He adopted a submissive posture, so his head sank lower than hers. His tail stump wagged furiously. Whimpering, he crept closer to lick her fingers. Rudimentary empathy flickered between them. Wolves weren't so different from dogs that she couldn't feel his loneliness and hunger.
"There's a good boy. Are you all alone?" Victoria checked his neck and found no collar. She ran her palms over the dog's sides, tracing the indentation of his ribs beneath his mangy coat.
The Rottweiler whined, asking for food.
Victoria's stomach rumbled in sympathy. "You're hungry, aren't you? Poor baby. I'm so sorry I don't have anything for you. It's been a while since I've eaten too. If I survive this, I promise I'll find you something to eat that's not trash."
Cradling the dog's head between her hands, Victoria captured his gaze. She bolstered the delicate empathic connection between them. The magic required caution and precision. She couldn't afford to risk accidentally making a stray mutt a member of her werewolf pack. It could happen if she wasn't careful. The teenagers wouldn't mind, but Sylvie would have fits.
"I'm looking for someone, a monster that hurts children." She whispered, projecting a strong visualization of the child thief across the psychic link. What she lacked in detail, she made up for with other sensory specifics, including the clomping of the beast's footsteps.
Shaking, the dog moaned and pressed closer to her. He returned impressions rather than words. Fear and refusal. His thoughts contained images of a bad place that stank of the sorrow and the terror of
children. Stay away.
"No, I'm going to kill it. Once I'm through with this thing, it won't be able to hurt anyone ever again." She projected cool confidence. Mastery. "Take me to it."
The dog's resistance collapsed. Head held low, he skulked along the alleyway, pausing to glance over his shoulder. The message was clear: follow.
She stood and trailed the dog. He led her along a circuitous journey through back alleys and side streets to a strip mall a few blocks south of the grocery store. When he halted in front of a business, Victoria also stopped.
"Is this it, boy?" she asked.
The dog answered with a short bark, warning her against danger. She received the strong impression of affirmation, but also fear and concern.
"Thank you." She patted his head, projecting approval. She sensed how badly the dog wanted to leave. She said, "It's okay. You can go now."
The big dog stood rooted in place, tremors wracking his body. Victoria sensed his internal conflict–fear warring with loyalty. His instincts for self-preservation were at odds with his desire to follow and protect her.
A cynical smirk twisted her lips. "I'll take one of you over five coyotes any day." Reaching out, she asserted her will on the dog and commanded him. "Go."
Whimpering, he turned and retreated toward the street.
Examining the store front, Victoria made a mental note of the address. She tilted her head back to read the name of the restaurant: Karp Sum Chinese. The decal of crossed chopsticks over a fortune cookie was etched into the front window. An Out of Business sign hung in the front door.
She tested the front door and found it locked. For a second, she contemplated ripping it off its hinges. A child's life was at stake, so the element of surprise gave her an advantage. She chose stealth over brute force.
Circling around to the rear took her into another alleyway lined with trash bins. She located the back door and was surprised to find it standing ajar. A thin sliver of light shone through the crack.
Before she entered the building, Victoria took out her cell phone, set the device to silent, and returned it to her pocket. Turning sideways, she slid through the narrow opening. Within, she picked up the same musky, ungulate odor she'd smelled at Michael's apartment.
Her stomach growled.
Sighing, Victoria rolled her eyes. She entered a back room filled with crates and boxes stacked atop pallets. Shelves full of assorted containers bore a coating of thick dust. Exposed duct work and pipes covered the ceiling and walls.
Silently, she padded forward, using the stacked pallets as cover. Her nocturnal vision adjusted to the dimness. Her eyes cast a golden glow, illuminating her path. Her hands shifted to claws tipped in wicked nails, and her teeth elongated to sharp canines.
The soft sob of a child drew her onward. She hid behind a large steel drum. The pungent goat-scent permeated the entire area along with the stench of urine and feces. The fetid aroma overwhelmed her sensitive nose. Still, she caught the unmistakable underlying scent.
Human children.
She peered over the edge of the open drum. The container was filled to the rim with black fluid. Curious, she dipped a finger into the liquid and lifted it to her nose for a quick sniff. When she identified it as ink, her face contorted into a grimace of distaste.
Victoria extended her thoughts to Freya. Goddess, what is this sick bastard?
It is an abomination, Priestess.
Four wrought iron cages hung on chains suspended from the ceiling. Three contained small children: two boys and a girl. At a glance, they were between the ages of three and six. Shock hit her in the gut, leaving her winded and paralyzed for precious seconds. A wave of nausea assailed her. The thought that she'd almost refused to come to their rescue appalled her.
The heavy clomp of hooves on concrete alerted her to the monster's location on the far side of the room. A bipedal creature stepped into view. It stood over ten feet in height. A pair of curved horns flared from its skull. Red-rimmed eyes were deep set within its elongated face. It had a broad nose, a small mouth that formed a nasty grin, a bearded chin, and elven ears.
Male genitalia dangled between hairy legs that belonged on an ungulate. Cloven hooves created a distinctive clomp on the concrete. Thanks to Margaret's nightmare, that sound was indelibly burned into Victoria's imagination. As long as she lived, she'd remember the poor girl's absolute terror as the beast approached her bedroom door.
Wiry black fur covered his entire body. A thick mane grew on his head and shoulders, thinning across his sides and arms, only to thicken again upon his thighs. He had a five-fingered hand tipped in razor-sharp nails. A whip-like tail grew from his tailbone, and the beast stood hunched over due to the curvature of his spine.
Hostility vibrated throughout her, and she primed for violence. She hesitated out of fear for the youngsters. She doubted her ability to take on the immense beast in a one-on-one fight and win. The creature outweighed her by hundreds of pounds. If she died here, the knowledge of the goat man's location died with her. She needed help and regretted her decision to send Rand away.
An unexpected wave of fear and panic knocked Victoria off-balance. Gasping, she fell backward. She immediately identified Jasper as the source of the distress. She swallowed an instinctive snarl, instead producing a strangled gurgle in the back of her throat. Her wolf surged to the surface, threatening to burst through her skin.
A second later, Rand's fury roared across the pack bond. Adrenaline surging, Victoria crouched behind the barrel and struggled to regain control. Through an act of willpower, she managed to impose a degree of composure. Scrambling, she headed for the rear entrance, intending to call her pack mates once she reached safety.
Sides heaving, she stepped into the alleyway. A blinding burst of pain slammed her, and she stumbled. Rand is hurt. Her shoulder struck the side of the building and kept her from falling. She dug her phone from her pocket, but her hands shook so hard she fumbled. It took her two tries to clear the screen saver. Before Victoria had a chance to dial, the phone's screen lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number.
She answered automatically. "Hello?"
Only silence and the crackle of white noise emerged from the speaker. She started to speak again, when a man's rough voice asked, "Victoria?"
She froze, and her blood ran cold.
Jake Barrett.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Her grip on the cell phone tightened, knuckles turning white. Twisting, she scanned the area around her but saw no sign of hunters. Surprisingly, she caught a glimpse of the Rottweiler peering at her from the far end of the alley. The dog had defied her command and followed her.
"I know this is your number." Jake's tone conveyed strength and authority.
He sounded so damn much like Victoria's own father that it hurt to hear. She struggled to wrap her dry mouth and tight throat around words. "Is Rand still alive, Barrett?"
"Rand knocked around a couple of my men. Didn't kill anyone. I know him well enough to know he could've." His intonation remained perfectly cool and reasonable. "He took a shotgun blast to the chest. Unfortunately, he took off in a pickup before I got there."
Victoria released a held breath, dissipating awful internal pressure. It went without saying the hunters hadn't been using silver slugs or Rand wouldn't have survived a direct hit. Let alone escaped.
"Why would he attack your men?" Victoria asked even though she instantly supplied her own answer. Jasper. Rand must've been defending the teenager.
"That's the crux," Jake said. "I've got your boy."
Fear impaled her heart. Victoria sank to a crouch, kneeling on the wet pavement while her wolf fought to drag her through a full shift. Thunder filled her ears, and she thought the storm had returned until she realized the sound was a growl rumbling deep in her chest.
They spoke simultaneously.
"Barrett, where is Jasper? So help me, if you've hurt him—"
"The boy is unharmed. As long as you do what I say, he
'll be fine."
Her grip threatened to crush the phone. Fumbling thanks to her claws, she wedged the phone between her shoulder and jaw. "So, the mighty Hunter King has sunk to taking children hostage?"
Jake's voice thickened with irritation, the first crack thus far in his impenetrable veneer. "I didn't go after the boy. We caught him shadowing us."
"What do you think Daniel would think of you right now?" The snarl never wholly left her throat, so the demand reverberated.
"Don't you dare speak my son's name, bitch." His control cracked, betraying smoldering fury.
"I'll tell you, he wouldn't think very highly of you." She ignored his warning. Taunting the man wasn't the smartest thing. Her fear for Jasper drove her to recklessness.
Grinding teeth, a noise like stone on stone, crossed the phone line. He exhaled, and her imagination supplied the image of broad flared nostrils breathing fire. When he spoke, his tone was smooth once again. "My son is dead. Someone has to be held accountable. I expect you to surrender yourself. Once you have, I'll let the boy go."
Fuck. The man terrified her. No matter what Jake Barrett did to her, it couldn't be worse than the suffocating guilt she lived with every day. The weight of her own culpability in Daniel's death crushed her, a feeling verging on self-hatred. Too many people on both sides had already died because of her failure. She would do anything to protect the final surviving members of her pack, including sacrifice herself. Perhaps it was fitting that Jake Barrett should be her judge, jury, and executioner.
"Fine. I'll surrender to you," she said. "I want your word that Jasper and my pack go free without any further retaliation."
"Agreed." A hesitation ensued.
She thought her ready agreement had surprised him. She stepped into the silence before he could continue. "We have another problem."
Jake's volume shot up a couple telling notches. "We do, do we?"
Valkyrie's Vengeance: Book 1 (Loki's Wolves) Page 7
