by Laura Taylor
“You would have to perform the Ritual,” Eleanor said softly. “I understand how serious a thing it is, and if Genna was simply a deserter, I wouldn’t ask. But the Treaty has been breached and the future of our whole civilisation is at risk.”
Andre looked away, pacing off across the lawn. The Ritual, as it was known, had no other name, no Old Language equivalent, no formal description. It was an ancient ceremony, one of the most closely guarded secrets of the shifters. Not even the Council knew the full details, that information reserved exclusively for the assassins. The Council knew only the purpose of it and that whatever it involved, it was enough to inspire fear in even the most courageous of warriors.
Andre reminded himself of that as he fought to suppress the surge of anger that Eleanor would ask such a thing of one who had left his killing days behind. She did not truly understand what she was asking, for if she had, she would not have dared to ask it.
“Do you still have the required tools to perform it?” Eleanor asked, when the silence stretched on.
“I do.” Andre hadn’t returned to Italy since joining this Den, and the sacred objects that sat in a discreet pocket inside his travel case remained where they had been so carefully stowed the last time he had left the Council’s villa, a fully fledged assassin at that time. At some point in the future, he had intended to return to Italy and hand the items back to the assassins’ guild, but until then, there was no one he trusted enough to allow them to take the package back for him. Even the Council itself didn’t know quite what all the items were, and that secrecy was guarded for a very good reason.
“It is no small thing you ask,” Andre said finally, “and not a decision to be made lightly. Give me an hour or two to think it over, then I’ll give you my answer.”
It was fully dark by the time Andre made his way out of the manor’s back door and headed off into the forest. He’d sat in meditation for a hour after that tense conversation with the Council, asking Sirius for guidance and examining his own conscience to try and make a decision. Eventually he had agreed, much to the Council’s relief, but the knowledge of what he had to do had ignited an odd nostalgia in the back of his mind. In general, there was little about the life of an assassin that he missed. The constant travel, the waves of death, the incessant danger were all things he’d gladly left behind without so much as a backward glance. But within the assassins’ guild, there had also been an uncommon camaraderie, a kinship that was closer even than the connection between Den mates, though the wolves of any given Den were willing to give their lives for each other without question. He and his comrades had understood each other at a level that he would never achieve with anyone else, all of them having seen things and experienced things that had left indelible marks on their very souls. The knowledge that he had left that behind made him feel strangely lonely – not a welcome feeling, given what the rest of the night would entail.
Now, he made his way through the trees, heading for a small clearing halfway up the hill. He’d explored the forest thoroughly since joining the Den, finding the quiet space nestled in amongst tall boulders and the towering presence of ancient trees, and he’d immediately thought of the place when Eleanor had made her bold request. It would serve the purpose well enough, and once he’d made his decision, he’d given the rest of the Den strict instructions to stay indoors tonight. The Grey Watch were to remain either in the stable, or in the courtyard, and no one was to even consider the idea of venturing into the forest. The consequences, Andre had stressed, would be beyond dire, both for them and for him.
Arriving at the clearing, Andre set the leather pouch he was carrying on the ground and simply stood for a time, feeling the wind on his face, the draw of cold air in and out of his lungs, listening to the faint sounds of the night-time creatures. He shifted almost without thinking about it and scented the air. It was cool and crisp, the faint scent of wood smoke drifting on the breeze, the ever-present smells of pine and oak, the lingering odour of wolves who had passed this way earlier in the day. Preparation, Andre knew, was crucial, and he had no interest in rushing things.
Some ten minutes later, he shifted back into human form, finally admitting to himself that he was as ready as he was going to get.
The night was cold, winter lingering in the wings as autumn drew to a close, and Andre braced himself as he prepared for the first part of the Ritual. Gritting his teeth against the cold, he carefully and precisely removed his clothes. Each article was folded neatly and placed in a pile at the edge of the clearing. Completely naked and shivering like a leaf in a breeze, he picked up the leather pouch he’d brought with him and stepped into the centre of the clearing.
First, he took out a coarse brush of wolf hair, and with painstaking care, he swept an area clear of leaves. Not a single one could be moved by human hand, pebbles, twigs and leaves alike moved aside with the fur of one of his ancestors.
That task complete, he set the brush reverently aside and took out the next set of items. A beeswax candle, dyed red with the blood of a shifter. A cone of incense. A pair of canine teeth, taken from a wild wolf that had died of natural causes. The candle was set to the left, the incense to the right, and the teeth in the middle.
Next were four shallow dishes, each no bigger than the base of a teacup. He set them on the ground in a line behind the other objects, checking to make sure each one was secure on the ground, with no risk of tipping or spilling.
Then he took a deep breath, knelt down, his feet tucked underneath him, and offered up a prayer that he should be considered worthy of the feat he was about to perform. He approached the spirit world with reverence, he told the spirits of the forest, with humility, with the knowledge that he walked on sacred ground and was at the command of those who ruled there. The Ritual would open the door to their world, a place where the living were not welcome and where there were severe penalties for trespassing. The slightest misstep would ensure not only his own death, but would also cast his spirit adrift, doomed to wander the world searching for a home, forever denied rest within the heavenly House of Sirius. It was enough to cause even the bravest of men to pause.
Finally, breathing slowly and deliberately, he took out the last of the items in the leather pouch. Four vials of blood, each one donated by a shifter of each of the four bloodlines, taken while the shifter was in wolf form. In the first dish, blood from the line of Ranor. He poured it in and crushed the vial, placing the shattered glass into a small stone box set aside for the purpose. Into the second dish went the blood of the line of Harkans. The third, the line of Grenable. And then he took out the fourth vial; his own blood, of the line of Fellor, extracted from his vein by the careful hand of a fellow assassin many years before. He placed the blood into the dish, crushed the vial, and set the stone box aside.
“Forgive me for my trespass,” he said in the Old Language, softly but clearly, no shouting necessary for the spirits to hear him. “Accept my gratitude for your guidance and this gift of blood to appease you. The wolf precedes me. My ancestors speak for me. My brethren lend their strength to protect me. Sirius, god of the wild wolves, hear my prayers and accept your servant, from your throne in the Great Hall of your divine house.”
A box of matches was the only modern object amongst the collection in the pouch; while fire was required, the source of it was strangely unimportant, and so he lit one, using it to light the candle first and the incense second. He closed his eyes, body trembling from the knowledge of what he was about to hear and see, placed his hands firmly on his thighs and sent one last silent prayer to Sirius to aid him.
“Genna, of the line of Grenable, has gone astray,” he said aloud. “I seek your assistance to find her.” And then, knowing it might be the last time he ever walked the mortal world alive, he began an ancient chant, the language so old that no one knew where it had originated, or even what it meant any more. He followed the rhythm perfectly, paid attention to the stress on each syllable, pronounced the complex sounds carefully… H
e felt his heart stutter and lurch as a sudden warmth filled the clearing and a light seemed to burn from beyond his eyelids.
“You have crossed the threshold into a world that is not your own,” came a voice, one which was both foreign and unnervingly familiar. “I will question you and see if you are worthy.”
When the light finally faded a long time later, the candle and the incense had both burned out. Andre was freezing, his body lethargic, his legs numb from being sat on for so long, and rather than standing up, it was all he could do to lurch sideways, tumbling onto the cold ground to writhe gracelessly as he tried to persuade his body to start working again.
But the feel of rough dirt on his skin and icy air in his lungs was a welcome sensation, for all the pain it brought. He was alive. He had passed through the spirit world and returned to his own. He’d been found worthy, had been gifted with the Sight, the chance to trace his prey on her path through this world.
But in order to begin tracking Genna, he had to somehow climb to his feet and get his clothes back on. Numb fingers and stiff limbs made the task slow and fumbling, but after long minutes of struggling, he finally succeeded. He bounced on the spot to warm up a little, then went to pack up the rest of the items. A cold wind stirred in the clearing for the first time since he’d begun the ritual, tossing up leaves that scattered themselves across the space he’d cleared for the sacred objects. But the four dishes, when he went to clear them away, were clean and empty.
It was past midnight when Caroline woke, disturbed by a strange shuffling sound as her bedroom door opened. Instantly awake and alert, she was reaching for the knife she kept beside the bed when she recognised Andre’s form, standing in the doorway.
“Are you all right?” she asked. It had worried her that Andre couldn’t tell her exactly what he was going to do out in the forest, and his firm warnings that he not be interrupted hadn’t helped.
“Fine,” he said, his voice husky. “It went well.” He fumbled to remove his clothes, having trouble keeping his balance, and Caroline wondered what he’d been through this evening. It would take a lot for a man as fit and agile as Andre to lose control of his body. Finally naked, he slid into bed beside her, and Caroline recoiled.
“You’re freezing!” His body was like an icicle against hers, and he nodded faintly into her shoulder. “Turn around,” she ordered him, waiting while he shuffled about until his back was towards her, then she draped herself over him, arms around his torso, thighs curled up behind his own. It was like hugging a snowman, her skin instantly chilled even within the cocoon of their bed, which had been warm until a moment ago. But if she was freezing, how must he feel? So she didn’t let go, the pair of them shivering and cursing until Andre’s body finally began to warm up.
“I know you can’t tell me what you were doing out there,” Caroline murmured, still draped over Andre’s body, “but can you tell me if it was something to do with the shifter magic?”
Andre slowly turned around, snuggling close and sighing deeply. “It was,” he said simply.
Caroline didn’t ask any more questions. It was one of the things she’d quickly had to learn to accept when she’d begun this relationship with Andre. His former work as an assassin was off limits, a chapter of his life that Caroline would forever be excluded from. There were some minor details that he was free to discuss, of course; he’d shared stories of hits gone wrong, of the guilt he’d felt when he’d disagreed with his orders, of foreign countries he’d visited and amazing sights he’d seen, but there was a vast amount that Caroline still knew nothing about. His training, what it was like living in the Council’s villa with the other assassins, some of the methods he’d used to kill people, and, of course, anything to do with the shifter magic. Caroline assumed that the assassins conducted various rituals, or used particular techniques to achieve their goals, but the rest of the shifters did not and could not share that knowledge, the risk far too great that someone would misuse it for their own purposes.
Andre’s skin was still cool, though his shivering had stopped, and Caroline rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling the hard muscles beneath her fingers slowly begin to relax. The rough stubble on his chin was scratching at her cheek, but she didn’t protest. It was such a rare thing to see him vulnerable like this, tired, cold, worn out, and she held him close, ignoring the minor discomforts of having his knee jabbing into her leg, or the strands of his hair lying in her face.
At length, she pulled back, gazing at his shadowed face in the darkness. “Will you be able to find Genna?”
He nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow.” She held his gaze a little longer, then he looked away. “Don’t ask. Please. I can’t-”
“I’m not going to ask anything,” Caroline interrupted him. She stroked his face tenderly. “I’m just… I’m not used to worrying about you. It’s unnerving.”
Andre let out a short chuckle. “We assassins are still mortal.” He snuggled a fraction closer, nuzzling his face into her shoulder, his voice sleepy as he said, “I like having someone here to worry about me.”
There was something else now, poking into Caroline’s thigh, and she thought for a moment to do something about it, but hesitated, not knowing if Andre would be too tired. They were both fiery and physical people, and their love-making tended to reflect that. Maybe he would just prefer to go to sleep-
The kiss took her quite by surprise, Andre’s hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, his lips gentle but passionate, his body pressing close against hers.
“By Sirius, you’re beautiful,” he told her, to which Caroline couldn’t help replying, “You can’t even see me at the moment.”
He responded by kissing her breast, his tongue teasing the sensitive bud repeatedly, his hand sliding down to trace the curve of her waist, then down over her buttocks. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured again, and heck, if he wanted to think so, she wasn’t going to argue with him. And then he asked, “Are you tired?”
“No,” she whispered, seeking out his lips again. She slid a hand down to cup one firm buttock, giving it a welcoming squeeze. “Not the slightest bit.”
When Andre finally rolled over on top of her long minutes later, Caroline’s body was on fire. She opened her thighs for him, eagerly anticipating the feel of him pressing inside her, then arched her back and moaned when it finally came. His hard body thrust firmly against hers, the rolling wave of his hips echoed by the stroke of his tongue in her mouth, and she held onto his shoulders, moaning her approval when his hand slid in between them to stroke her sensitive flesh. Even after months of sharing a bed together, this was still so novel, a treasured gift that Caroline had long believed she would never get the opportunity to enjoy, and she paid attention to every detail, the wild, masculine scent of him, the softness of his hair as she ran her hand through it, the deep, enticing sounds he made. And when his powerful body shuddered inside hers, a rough, gasping moan drawn from his throat, she revelled in the power she held to give him pleasure, thanking Sirius for sending him to her, determined to hold the memory of this moment in her heart forever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning when Andre woke, he spent a few moments luxuriating in the softness of the bed. It would be a long day, and with Genna on the loose, it was impossible to say how things would pan out, so he was inclined to appreciate the little things while he could.
A few minutes later, however, his natural urge for action was niggling at him, so he opened his eyes-
And promptly squeezed them shut again, feeling half blinded and completely disoriented by the view in front of him. The curtains were still closed, the room dim, but to Andre’s eyes, a golden light radiated from every object, bright flashes every time he moved his head, followed by a gradual dimming that would flare up again the next time he moved.
It was the Sight, granted to him by the spirit last night, and by following its clues, Andre would be able to track down his prey. The golden glow would linger until he found Genna, or until either h
e or Genna died. It was one of the most important things to take into consideration when contemplating using the Ritual: the Sight required an irrevocable commitment, with no opportunity to change his mind.
Andre glanced at the clock, managing to make out the digits amongst the flaring light. It was only a little after six, but it would be just as well to get a start on things. It was going to be a long day, but he had promised the spirit that he would carry out his hunt promptly, and he was honour-bound to fulfil his side of the bargain. Getting out of bed, he fumbled around for his clothes, waking Caroline in the process.
“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily, peering at him from out of the blankets, and he paused as he turned to look at her. The golden glow radiated from her skin, highlighting every detail, the curve of her cheek, the arch of her nose, her eyelashes, and he couldn’t help the slow smile that settled on his lips. She looked even more beautiful than usual, and he crossed to the bed, bending down to kiss her before quickly finishing getting dressed.
“I have to find Genna,” he explained. “Get dressed. We’re going to have an early start today.”
Not waiting for her to get up, he headed out the door and down the stairs, shifting as he went. A few people were already up, but he didn’t pause, just continued out the front door and took off up the hill. At the top, he climbed onto a tall outcrop of rock and cast his eyes around the landscape. He turned slowly in a full circle, scanning the hills carefully, until he faced the northeast. The glow was stronger in that direction, and it held steady instead of slowly fading out – a clear indication that he would find Genna in that direction. Jumping back down to the ground, he headed swiftly for the manor, needing to report his findings to the Council.
