Samira whirled away and stormed back into the office, leaving me alone in the basement. Well, not entirely alone—the kitten sat on the top step Samira had just vacated. She glared down at me, her expression suggesting I had personally offended her.
“Don’t tell me you’re pissed too?” I said.
The kitten stood and sniffed the air with disdain before turning on her dainty paws and disappearing back into the office with Samira, who was slamming things around.
Clomping back down the stairs, I dropped onto the floor and dragged a book back onto my lap, but questions swirled in my mind and my brain refused to cooperate as I tried to read the ancient words and spells, making it almost impossible to translate them.
Noree had sent the wolf here for a reason. She wanted Samira’s collar, and I knew for a fact that she wouldn’t risk distracting me from giving it to her unless it was important.
“Shit,” I muttered, and slammed the book closed.
Every one of my instincts told me to leave Byron and his problems alone. But the more I thought about it, the more I concluded that his problems would probably become mine sooner or later anyway. Better to stay ahead of the curve.
Chapter Four
Samira had practically cried with happiness when I’d told her where I was going, which had made me think I’d made the right choice. But now that I was actually out of the office and attempting to track down the bloody wolf, I was beginning to regret my decision. The city was filled with so many scents that tracking him was getting harder and harder. A fae’s nose just wasn’t a match for a dog…
“Gotta stop calling him that,” I said beneath my breath as I pulled my hood over my head. The rain pattered on the pavement around me, distorting the street noises.
Something grabbed my elbow and jerked me into a dark alley. I felt a moment of blind panic and drew my knife in record speed only to find my arms pinned above my head as a hulking shape crushed me to the dirty bricks of the alley wall. A whiff of pine and the musky scent of wolf filled my nose, and I stopped fighting.
“We need to stop meeting like this,” I whispered against Byron’s ear, my breath caressing his skin. Christ, what was wrong with me? I wasn’t normally like this—smartass, maybe, but not flirty—and it didn’t fit with who I was at my core. Harbingers didn’t flirt. Impending death had the terrible habit of destroying the mood, so to speak.
He jerked his head back, and his eyes momentarily flashed gold as the headlights of a car cut through the rain and illuminated his face.
“What are you doing?” he said without releasing me. The intense heat from his body soaked through the front of my black jacket and dark grey jeans, warming my skin in ways I hadn’t experienced since…
Not since Mannan.
The crush of his lips, the punishing grip of his hands on my throat, the feel of his body thrusting…
I immediately squashed the memory of Mannan back down into the box where I kept the rest. What was wrong with me? I hadn’t thought of him like this in years, so why now, all of a sudden, were so many memories surfacing like bloated bodies given back by the water.
My chest constricted, and I pushed at Byron with a strangled yelp, using my hips and chest to buck him away from my body. He released me as quickly as he’d grabbed me, concern flitting through his gaze as he raised his hands in surrender.
“Are you all right? I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He trailed off as though suddenly remembering that alphas didn’t apologise, even if they were behaving like complete assholes.
“Didn’t what?” I spat the words. “Didn’t mean to assault a woman in a dark alley?” I regretted the harsh words the minute they left my mouth. This wasn’t me; I wasn’t the snappy, accusatory type, especially not when I’d initially played along. No, there was definitely something going on, and I needed to get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later.
“It wasn’t like that…You were following me, and…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I really haven’t got time for this.” He turned to walk away, but I grabbed his arm before he could leave.
“Look, we can call it quits and start over,” I said. Apologising to an alpha was a dangerous thing, and considering how volatile Byron seemed to be, I wasn’t going to run the risk with him and make him think for even a second that I was submissive to him. If I wanted him to believe anything, it was that we were equals.
He stared at me for a moment as though weighing the pros and cons before finally nodding. “Fine, but no more following me.”
“That I can’t promise,” I said, giving him a wide grin, “especially if we work together. I might need to follow you sometimes depending on how stupid you actually turn out to be.”
A low growl escaped his throat, but it only served to widen my grin. “Feeling a little touchy?”
“Are you always this”—he paused, searching for the right word—“abrasive?”
“Abrasive? I prefer honest, but that’s just me. The fae can’t lie, after all, but no such rules bind wolves.”
He watched me for another moment before the ghost of a smile crossed his face. “I’ve never worked with the fae before. I heard you’re untrustworthy, nothing but glorified tricksters.”
I shrugged and brushed the brick dust from my black jacket. “Many of us could be called that, but I find the usual games the fae play to be tiresome and an utter waste of my time.”
“Good to hear. I despise time-wasters.”
“And yet here we stand, idling the minutes away when we could be getting to the bottom of what has the wolves turning loco.”
Byron nodded curtly and turned on his heel, gesturing back over his shoulder as he walked away. “Come, then.”
His tone grated on me—well, that and his complete confidence that I would simply fall into step behind him. I watched him disappear down the alley before huffing out a long breath. “Bloody wolves,” I muttered as I narrowed my eyes in his direction and trotted after him. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I could have sworn I heard a short chuckle escape him. The asshole, it seemed, knew exactly what he was doing. Well, we would see just who had the last laugh.
I caught up to him as he exited the other end of the alley and found myself on an unfamiliar street in an area of town I rarely visited.
I drew a deep breath, my step faltering as I caught the strong whiff of wet dog and wolf musk. It came from every direction and hung heavy in the air, stinging the back of my throat and causing my eyes to water.
“Why here?” I said, keeping my voice low. I could have simply mouthed the words to him and he would have heard me, such was the strength of a wolf’s hearing. While in Faerie, I’d heard plenty of tales of their abilities; there was even a rumour that the wolves were descended from a fae, much like the heart hounds were brought to existence by the Mother of the Hunt. The moment I thought her name, a shudder ran through me. If I was certain of anything, it was that Auriella had not one ounce of maternal instinct in her. Calling her the mother of anything seemed wrong.
“Because I have something you need to see,” he said, picking up his pace to a jog. “Hurry, harbinger. If the other wolves pick up your scent out here on your own, your pretty face and speed won’t save you.”
He was right. The humans feared me, staying out of my way and hiding their faces when I called my warning in the night, and yet they needed me, needed the time I gave them to prepare. The wolves, on the other hand, had a sixth sense when it came to harbingers, and their fears drove them to destroy us in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. I didn’t want to put a pack of wolves, or even Byron, to the test.
I darted to catch up to him as he disappeared behind one of the houses on the street. When I caught up to him, he was standing on the back porch, which was bathed in darkness. I sensed a tension in the air, as though fate itself was waiting for the hammer to fall.
Byron stepped through the open screen door and was swallowed by the thick darkness within the house. Hesitating, I stood on th
e back steps and strained for any traces of sound. Despite having better hearing than a human, I couldn’t detect anything. Glancing around, I contemplated closing my eyes, but my instincts screamed of the danger of such a move. Wolves were stealthy, and while a part of me wanted to believe I would hear or sense one sneaking up on me, I wasn’t so egotistical to believe it true.
“Harbinger, are you coming or not?” Byron’s gruff voice came from the depths of the house, and I clenched my fists to stop myself from jumping. Some harbinger I would be if I startled at every big bad wolf who called me into the dark.
Steeling myself, I sucked in a deep breath and crossed the threshold. The air around me seemed to pop, and I paused, the tension in the atmosphere settling on my shoulders once more.
After allowing my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, I moved further into the house, the smell of wet dog soaking through every pore in my body. The urge to retch washed over me, and I squashed it down. There was death here. It hung in the air, its limp, lifeless scent pervading every surface and creature that moved within the walls.
“What is this place, wolf?” I asked, addressing Byron not by name but by the animal he was.
Something felt terribly wrong here, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. But it unnerved me, and I wanted nothing more than to turn tail and escape out into the night.
“You will see,” he said, his amber eyes peering out of the darkness at me. They were the only thing I could make out in the thick gloom, only because they appeared to be lit from within by a power all their own. Deep down, I knew it was simply a trick of the low light that was filtering in through the windows, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety hammering away at my insides.
I followed his gentle footfalls across the wooden floors to a doorway that led down into a darkness so thick I was sure I would choke on it if I breathed it in. We descended in near silence. The further down we went, the more I felt Byron’s tension ratchet up.
My body jolted when I stepped onto what I thought was another step but turned out to be a compacted dirt floor. The smell of wet dog was stronger here, and laid over it was the scent of faeces, the pungent aroma of ammonia, and the unmistakable scent of putrefaction and coming death.
“Wolf, I go no further until you tell me what you’re leading me into,” I said, scrubbing my palms down the sides of my jeans to rid myself of the slickness that had gathered there.
I heard an almost inaudible click before the space flooded with a soft yellow light. Even though the bulb’s glow was gentle, my eyes screamed against the sudden shock.
“Shit,” I muttered, scrubbing my hand over my face as what little night vision I’d had was utterly destroyed. Bright blobs danced in my vision, and I fought to blink them away as the agonised moans of the others occupying the basement met my ears.
Metal shifted, the unmistakable clink of heavy shackles, and I drew my attention to the back wall. The area was split into what looked like stalls, the straw spread across the floor adding to the whole barn effect. But instead of seeing cows and horses, I looked in horror at the seven people chained up. Or at first glance they appeared to be humanlike, but the claws, elongated fingers and toes, and extended muzzles where their human mouths and jaws should have been reminded me of something from a B-rated horror movie.
Some of the more human-looking ones were slumped against the back wall. One woman in particular seemed to be attempting to make her shivering, naked body as small as possible.
“Why are they like this?” I asked.
“I told you, there is a sickness spreading through them, forcing them into the change,” Byron said, his voice strained.
Turning to face him, I could see in his eyes a mixture of disgust and pity. The pity I could understand, given their suffering, but why disgust too?
“What is it?” I searched his face for a way to gauge his reaction.
“If I knew the answer to that, do you think I would have brought you here?” His words grew clipped as a growl of frustration erupted from him.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, turning my attention back to the wolf-humans moaning in agony in response to his growl.
The wolf-man nearest me lunged in my direction, his muzzle snapping shut mere inches from my face. But what disturbed me far more was that his muzzle was filled with what appeared to be human teeth and not the wolf canines I’d expected.
“Jesus,” I said, taking a stumbling step backwards.
“Don’t get too close. They bite, and it seems to be contagious through the saliva.” Byron tugged me further out of reach.
“I don’t think that’s something I have to worry about,” I said, gently pulling my arm free of his grip. He was so engrossed in staring at the lost pack members that he didn’t even notice my movement.
“When did it start,” I asked, “and who did it start with?”
“Huh?” he said, looking momentarily confused. “Right, sorry, my brother said it started a few days after the last full moon. One of the wolves was found in the woods in human form, his body badly cut up. We can heal practically anything so long as there’s no silver in the wound. But even after getting cleaned up, the guy still wasn’t able to heal.”
“Which one was he?” I asked, moving along the row of half-changed wolf-humans.
“He’s dead,” Byron said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Those chained to the wall still picked up on his words, and their collective howls of anguish filled the air, making it almost impossible to not cower before them and cover my ears to prevent my eardrums from getting perforated.
Whirling to face Byron, I searched his face for any clues, but his expression was utterly shuttered. He wasn’t giving anything away.
“Are you going to make me ask?” I said, placing my hands on my hips.
“He’d shifted in an attempt to heal his wounds, but it didn’t work, and instead of shifting back he became almost rabid. There was no controlling him.”
“So what, your brother just killed him?” I asked.
Byron shook his head. “No,” he said. “When my brother invited me into the pack, I put down the wolf who had brought the sickness into it.”
“You murdered him?” I asked. Now it was my turn to keep the emotion hidden from my voice and expression. Unlike some of my fae brethren, though, it wasn’t a talent I was particularly adept at.
Byron gave me a smile, but it was more a baring of his teeth, and I could already imagine him in wolf form. He would be formidable for certain, and I had the sudden urge to ask him what colour his pelt was. Cramming the feeling down inside me, I raised an eyebrow in his direction. The smile slowly faded from Byron’s face, and his shoulders slumped.
“Yes, if you want to call it that. I murdered him. What was I supposed to do? One alpha doesn’t invite another in without consequences. And anyway, he was crazed, a danger to everyone else, because he no longer listened to the commands of his alpha.”
Tilting my head to the side, I studied him. He wasn’t lying, that I was certain of, and his words intrigued me. What kind of consequences could he possibly be talking about? My knowledge about wolves was scant, to say the least, and the more time I spent with Byron, the more I was beginning to think I was in way over my head.
“You’re going to have to help me out here and explain a few things,” I said, keeping my voice placating. I could still feel the others’ anguish over the loss of a pack member, and it bit into my skin like thousands of razor-sharp needles.
Byron grunted a response and turned his back on me. He ran his hands over his face and back through his hair, pushing his Mallen streak from his eyes and causing other strands to stand on end. I realized I could feel more than just the pack members’ anguish. Byron’s own guilt and pain gnawed at him, slowly chipping away at his resolve.
“When the Noree said I could help you,” I said, “what did she tell you…I need her exact words.”
“She talks too much. I cannot remember everything.�
�� He shook his head.
“Try, Byron. This is important.”
“Why? Why is it so important that I remember the exact words of a rambling witch who turned out to be no help at all?” He turned on me with the speed borne of his animal.
“Because I am the harbinger. I do not cause death; I warn of its coming. Or at least I used to, and when the dying have crossed over I mourn their passing, giving power to the ones left behind so that they might live knowing the dead have been honoured.” I sighed and let my shoulders droop. “There was a time when I could turn Death away, but only when the passing was unnatural. But it has been a long time since I attempted it, and my power is not what it was.”
“It feels fine to me,” Byron said, moving slowly in my direction. Something about the way he crossed the floor instantly set my alarm bells ringing. I held my ground—if I backed away from him now, no matter how much the voice in the back of my head encouraged me, he would have the upper hand. And he already seemed way too out of control for something like that.
“You are not me, wolf, and you know nothing of what my power once was.” I deliberately kept my muscles loose. If he tried anything, at least I would be ready for it, my body primed for action.
He paused in front of me, and I saw a glint of the beast that lurked beneath the surface. His thick, musky scent invaded my senses, and the heat radiating from his body warmed me to my very core. The memory of his touch danced along the edges of my mind, making me want to close the gap between us.
Byron leaned in close, his face practically touching mine as he breathed my scent deep into his nose.
“You do not fear me?” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his face as I met his gaze with defiance.
“Why would I?”
“Because most people fear what I will do to them. When I killed the injured member of the pack, he reeked of fear. I can still taste its acrid flavour on my tongue.”
Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2) Page 3
