Bayou Moon te-2

by Ilona Andrews

  “There were two coffins at the burial.” Cerise leveled her gaze at Aunt Murid.

  “Your father must’ve killed Vernard,” Murid said. “That’s the most logical explanation. I never saw the bodies, and Gustave would not talk about what happened in Sene, except to say that we could never have an open-casket burial. I don’t know if it was self-defense or revenge. I only know that he came back with two coffins, with their lids nailed shut.”

  The memory of the wall with the claw marks rose before her. She just couldn’t shake it off. The claws. The monster in the woods. Her grandparents. Somehow it all had to fit.

  Cerise searched the room for Erian. “Erian?”

  “Yes?” He pushed to the front.

  “Once this meeting is over, I want you to take two boys and dig up Grandfather’s grave.”

  A collective gasp rushed through the room.

  Cerise stared them down. Just try and stop me. “I want to know how he died.” She looked from face to face. “The secrets stop now. Tonight we go to fight the Hand, and I will have to kill my mother. I’d like to have everything out in the open beforehand.”

  “I don’t think you should go,” Erian said, his face calm. “I don’t think any of us should go. The Hand is too strong. Attacking them is risky.”

  She stared at him. “Erian, you’re the first to run into every fight!”

  He nodded, his expression oddly rational. “All the more reason to listen to me now. The Sheeriles are dead. The feud is dead. Our enemy is gone and this war is over. You would put all of us in danger and for what? Your mother is gone, and we don’t even know if Gustave is alive.”

  The betrayal stung. Of all people, she had expected it from Richard, not Erian. Richard was cautious, while Erian hadn’t met a fight he didn’t want to win. “What the hell is wrong with you? You have been my brother since you were ten. My parents raised you. Erian!”

  He crossed his arms on his chest. “Ceri, we must do what is best for the family. Attacking the Hand is plain stupid. You’re hurting and it’s making you crazy. Think about it. If they weren’t your parents, you would agree with me.”

  She was losing the argument; she could see it in their faces. Cerise clenched her teeth and forced her voice to sound steady. If it was a fight he wanted, she would give it to him. “So you think we should tuck our tail in and hide in the Rathole.”

  “Yes.” Erian’s eyes were crystal clear. “They’re freaks, Cerise. We aren’t strong enough.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t the lot of us go down to Sicktree, take our pants off in front of the courthouse, and bend over? That will announce to the entire Mire exactly where we stand.” She leaned forward. “Act like you’re a Mar, Erian. Or did I miss something, and did the Sheeriles cut off your balls in that fight?”

  A grimace clamped his face. “Watch yourself!”

  “Think very carefully before you threaten me. I’m stronger and better than you.”

  Erian leaned forward.

  “Stop.”

  Cerise turned. Clara was looking at her. She sat between her husband and her oldest son, the stump of her leg making a short bulge under her dress. She’d aged, and when their stares crossed, Cerise thought her brown eyes looked gray, as if dusted with ash.

  “Clara?”

  The entire room focused on Clara’s face. Urow bared his teeth, reacting to the pressure. Clara put a hand on his arm.

  “Yesterday I sent Mart back to our house,” Clara said. “The Hand burned it. There is nothing left. As long as the freaks live, we’ll never be safe. Not us, not our children, not even in our own homes. They won’t rest until they wipe us out. We will give you our sons, so you can kill the Hand’s freaks. Kill them all. To the last one.”

  WILLIAM leaned against the balcony rail. They’d asked him to wait outside. He didn’t see any need to push the issue—they were loud enough that he caught most of what was said.

  They battered Cerise. They screamed and argued and carried on. He wanted to walk in there and snarl them silent.

  She didn’t budge. They voted and gave in. The Mars would attack the Hand at dawn.

  A part of him was happy—she won. She got the fight she wanted. The rest of him was pissed off—she got the fight she wanted, and now she would run right into that fight. She was his mate, and he could end up watching her die.

  She was his mate.

  The wild in him scratched and howled, demanding her, demanding to taste her, to touch her, to take her away somewhere safe, where there would be only him and her. He stared at the Mire pines. It was not a sure thing. She hadn’t promised him anything. Her mood might have changed, and he might have missed his chance.

  And tomorrow they would be in a fight for their lives.

  Cerise was coming up the stairs. He listened to the sound of her steps, light and fluid. She came to stand next to him, looking at the woods.

  “I’ve heard,” William told her to save her the trouble.

  “How good is your hearing?”

  “Good enough.”

  “It would mean a lot to me if you would brief my family on the kind of enemies they could expect.”

  She made no move to touch him. He was right. She had changed her mind. “Sure.”

  “Tonight will be very busy for me,” she said. “The afternoon will be very busy, too.”

  Fine. He got the message. She didn’t want him to bother her.

  “There is an old storehouse on the edge of our lands, past the wards. We use it to dry out herbs. Because it’s past the ward line, the family rarely goes there. In about a minute I’ll walk down these steps and head to that storehouse. If someone were to wait about ten minutes, so nobody would get suspicious, he could meet me there.”

  It took him a minute. She was inviting him. “Where’s the barn?”

  Her eyes sparked with a wicked gleam. “I’m not going to tell you.”

  What the hell?

  Cerise arched her dark eyebrows. “It’s too bad that you don’t have any dogs, Lord Bill. If you had one, you could track my scent and chase me down, like a hunter. Through the woods. Imagine that.”

  She turned and headed down the stairs.

  Bloody hell. He loved that woman.

  Ten minutes later, two hundred yards separated William from the main house. Far enough. He shrugged off his shirt. His boots and pants followed. For a moment William stood, savoring the feel of cold air on his skin, and then he let the wild out.

  His body buckled and twisted. His spine bent. Fur sheathed his legs.

  William inhaled deep, letting the breath of the forest permeate him. Excitement flooded him, turning him stronger, faster, sharper. The sounds of the swamps amplified in his ears. The colors turned vivid, and he knew his eyes had gained their own glow, the pale yellow fire fed by magic.

  William tossed back his head and sang a long lingering note, a hymn to the thrill of the hunt, the pulse of prey between his teeth, and the taste of hot blood, spilled after a long chase. The little furry things shrank back into their hiding places, between the roots and into the hollows, sensing a predator in their midst.

  Cerise’s scent tasted sweet. William laughed in the quiet wolf way and broke into a run, falling into a longgaited, smooth rhythm. He had an appointment to keep with a beautiful girl who had agreed to meet a changeling in the deep woods.

  A wolf howled. Vur stirred on the branch. It had been nearly a week since Spider sent him and Embelys to spy on the Mar land. He was sick of the outdoors and doubly sick of spending his time in a tree.

  Movement. His round yellow eyes fixed on a small figure running at full speed out of the woods. She dashed across the clear ground and ran into a rickety old barn.

  Vur reached over and pulled the tangle of dried moss and shredded cloth that served as Embelys’s robe. She uncurled, the swirls on her arms and face fluctuating, as she unconsciously mimicked the cypress bark that had grown damp overnight.

  Her body bent to an unnatural angle, until h
er head was level with his. “It’s her.”

  Vur nodded. A single spotted feather fluttered from his shoulder. Spring was in full swing and he was molting again.

  They watched the barn door swing closed.

  “Should we take her now?” Vur asked.

  “It’s foolish of her to leave the house alone,” Embelys said. “She’s meeting someone.”

  Embelys’s hand snapped, and she dragged a squirming bug into her mouth, crunching him with obvious pleasure. “Besides, she’s skilled. And unlike Lavern, I find being sliced with a flash painful.”

  “Lavern is dead.” Vur shrugged, sending two more feathers floating to the tangled roots of the cypress.

  “My point exactly.” She pulled back, settling on the branch, her legs hugging the trunk, and rested her head against the bark.

  “So we wait?”

  “We wait.”

  A giant black wolf sprinted to the barn from under the trees.

  Embelys hissed.

  The wolf leaped. His body twisted, his bone and muscle wrung like a length of dark fabric. Fur shed, melting into the air as it fell. Arms stretched, legs elongated, rocked by convulsions, and a nude man rose from the dirt. He shook himself, and for a moment Vur saw his face and his eyes, hazel, still glowing.

  William the Wolf.

  The man slipped into the barn.

  Vur sat petrified, afraid to move.

  William the Wolf. William the murderer. The changeling beast who hunted the Hand’s agents. The only man who stood against Spider and lived.

  Slowly the fear melted. The Wolf was only one man. Just a man.

  “We have to warn Spider,” Embelys whispered. “He must know.”

  “You go. I’ll stay.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “I can glide. He can’t. I’ll watch over him. Go.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  She twisted, disengaging from the trunk, and slithered down, speeding along the forest floor.

  Vur gathered himself, calculating. William was just a man, a man who was meeting a girl, for sex. He would be satiated and sloppy afterward, and the poison on Vur’s claws was very potent. If he timed it just right … The head of William the Wolf would assure he was set for life.

  WILLIAM glanced through a small window. The storehouse was freshly swept. Bundles of herbs hung drying from the rafters, spicing the air with bitter fragrance. He caught a glimpse of Cerise’s dark hair as she headed up the ladder to the second story.

  He backed up, took a running start, and leapt, scrambling up the wall to the roof. The small attic window was open. Inside Cerise unfolded a quilt over a pile of hay. He dove through the window and rolled to his feet.

  Cerise froze with a quilt in her hands. Her pale shirt hugged her breasts. Her long dark hair spilled over it in a glossy wave. Her dark eyes, framed by a fringe of long eyelashes, widened. “You’re naked!”

  So pretty. Must have the woman.

  He pulled the wild back. No. Not yet. He had one shot at this.

  William circled her, stalking, tasting her scent, watching her watching him. “Do you like what you see?”

  She tilted her head, spilling her long hair over one breast. Her gaze traveled slowly from his face down to his toes. She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  William stopped and crossed his arms on his chest. “We need to talk.”

  Cerise hesitated for a second and sat on the hay. “Okay.”

  He leaned against the wall. “I was born in Adrianglia. I was born as a pup. It’s a sign of a strong changeling.”

  She winced.

  He had to keep going. “My mother gave me up to the Adrianglian government the next day. I was sent to the special orphanage for children like me. For the first two weeks of my life, I was blind and helpless, and they didn’t think I would survive. I did, and when I turned three years old, I was transferred to Hawk’s Academy.”

  She sat there, quilt draped over her knees, big eyes looking at him. He half expected her to run away screaming.

  “From the time I was three until I turned sixteen, I lived in the same room. It was a bare cell with a metal bunk bed welded to the floor and bars on the windows. I shared it with another kid. I was allowed three changes of clothes, a comb, a toothbrush, and a towel. We had no toys, and reading aside from schoolwork was forbidden. My life consisted of exercise, martial training, and study. That was it.”

  He stopped and looked at her to make sure she understood, afraid he would see pity. He saw none. He couldn’t read her, couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She just sat very still and looked at him.

  “You don’t have to stand over there,” Cerise said, her voice soothing. “You can come sit here by me.”

  William shook his head. If he sat by her, it would be all over. “I used to dream that my parents would show up and break me out of that place. When I twelve, I broke into the office, found my file, and realized where I stood. Nobody wanted me. Nobody was coming to save me. I was on my own. So I did the best I could. When I failed, I was whipped and punished by isolation. When I succeeded, they let me outside for a few minutes of freedom.

  “When I was thirteen, I killed my first opponent. When I turned sixteen, I graduated from Hawk’s and the signature on my graduation papers served as enrollment into the Red Legion. I was not given a choice about joining, but if I had been, I would have chosen the military anyway. I am a killer.”

  He was tired of talking, but he had to get all of it out. The memories pressed on him like a crushing weight he couldn’t drop.

  “I told you I was court-martialed. I have nothing, Cerise. No land, no money, no status, no honor. I’m not normal. Being a changeling is not a disease. I will never get better. I will always be fucked-up and my children will likely be puppies. You need to tell me if you really want this. You and me. I must know. No games, no hints, no flirting. Because if you are doing this so I will fight for your family tomorrow, don’t worry. I will anyway. If you don’t really want me, I’ll fight and then I’ll leave, and you won’t hear from me again.”

  William stopped. He’d fought in hundreds of skirmishes, he had done things that no sane man would, but he never remembered feeling that hollow at the end of it.

  Cerise opened her mouth.

  If she told him to leave, he would have to leave. He said he would and he had to do it.

  “I love you,” she told him.

  The words hung in the air between them.

  She said yes. She loved him.

  The chain he put on himself shattered. He lunged and caught her in a hug, brushing her hair off her neck, and kissed her, sweeping her off the floor. Her hands caressed his face.

  “You should’ve said no,” he snarled. “Now it’s too late.”

  “I don’t care, you stupid man,” she breathed. “I love you and I want you to love me back.”

  She was his. His woman, his mate. He kissed her, eager for her taste, and she kissed him back, quickly, feverishly, like she couldn’t get enough.

  Mine.

  He buried his face in her neck, smelling her silky hair, licking her smooth skin. She tasted like honeyed wine, sweet and intoxicating under his tongue, and she made him drunk.

  “I want you to stay with me,” she told him. “I want you to stay with me forever.”

  Some part of him refused to believe it. He would never be this lucky. Fate didn’t reward him; it kicked him and knocked him down, grinding him under its heel. A terrible fear gripped him that somehow she would vanish, dissolve into thin air or die in his arms, and then he would be back in his house, awake, alone, and broken, because she was only a wishful dream.

  “Will you, William? Will you stay with me?”

  He gripped her to him, to keep her from disappearing. “Yes.”

  She stroked his back, her slender fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, soothing, inviting him. She kissed his mouth, her soft lips pressing against his. Her pink tongue darted out, and she licked him, stroking him, agai
n and again. He kissed her hard, trying to shut down the annoying warnings in his head, and dropped them down onto the hay. She squirmed under him, warm, flexible, and pliant.

  Excitement flooded him. He pulled her shirt off and kissed her breast, sucking on her pink nipple, stroking her soft stomach and down, lower, to the sweet spot between her legs. She purred. He would kill to hear her make that sound again.

  She was his mate. It finally sank in. She said yes, she was his, she wanted him to stay, and if she vanished, he would spent the rest of his life looking for her and he would find her again.

  She wrapped her hand around his shaft and slid it up and down, spiking the need in him into an overwhelming hunger. She was wet for him, he could smell it, and the scent was driving him out of his skin.

  “I love you,” he told her.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered, her velvet eyes bottomless and black.

  He thrust into her and she screamed.

  “ON the hay,” Cerise murmured. “We did it on the itchy, smelly hay. I can’t believe it. Why did I even bring a quilt?”

  He leaned over, grabbed the quilt, and pulled it over them, clenching her to him. “There.”

  She pulled a blade of dried grass out of her hair. “This time in the hay. The last time we almost did it on a dirty floor. You’ve made me into some sort of hillbilly slut. “

  Yeah, that’s right.

  “Next time, we have to do it in bed,” she said.

  “With wine and roses?” he asked.

  “Maybe. I’ll settle for clean sheets.” She snuggled closer to him. William closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy.

  “You will stay with me, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Even though it would mean Kaldar would be your in-law?”

  “I could just kill him …”

  “No, you can’t. He’s my favorite cousin.”

  He read a real concern in her eyes and couldn’t resist. “He’s unmarried. No kids. Nobody to miss him.”