by Amber Kallyn
By the time they neared the edge of town, the sun touched the mountainous horizon. It amazed him how close night was drawing again. So quickly.
The further they hiked from the murder scene, the more Matt's mind wandered. He found himself watching the sway of Anca's hips, the way her hair brushed her lower back, the inky strands picking up highlights from the colorful sunset.
He forced himself to adjust his gaze, and instead concentrated on the sword hanging at her side. The old, well oiled, leather sheath was decorated in colorful inks, with cleverly hidden gems. By the way it was curved, he thought it some sort of scimitar.
The handle, wrapped with worn but well-cared for leather was short, but of the perfect size for a woman's smaller grip. The guard was simple, a bluish metallic alloy twisted into two side bars.
Before long, the city fell behind. Soon trees surrounded them.
Not liking any great distance with the limited visibility, Matt hurried to Anca's side. "Do you mind telling me what we're following?"
"The trail of one of the Rogue lieutenants."
Earlier she'd said she thought there were two. "The vampire or the wolf?"
"Wolf. He's with two vampires. They're weaker and should be easy to handle."
"Unless they're disguising their strength." He shot her a pointed look.
Anca only shrugged.
They continued on, into denser forest, the ground untouched by the quickly fading daylight.
A while later, what felt like small hands of air brushed at his shirt.
The ruffles of Anca's colorful blouse rippled. She stopped, looking around, tense and alert.
He leaned close to her ear. "What is it?" His voice was nearly inaudible.
Her eyes appeared unfocused when she turned to him. "Something evil has disturbed this area."
"How do you know?" he asked.
She focused on him. "Because I do. What's with all the sudden curiosity?"
Matt could sense her confusion, her annoyance, but also, in her pooling gaze was a loneliness not used to someone caring enough to ask.
Before he could reply, she strode on. "The trail has faded, but I believe I know how to keep following."
A few minutes later, an unbroken blackness ahead drew their attention. A cave entrance in a tall cliff face.
A rough breeze tugged at Matt's shirt again. "Do you feel that?"
Anca's look was sharp, but this time, also intrigued. "Quiet," was all she said. She looked at the cave for a long moment before nodding shortly. "Someone's inside. Most likely those we followed. The only one who should be any sort of challenge is the lieutenant. Should be." Anca looked him over. "Do you have a weapon?"
"No."
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She looked him up and down with a sneer curling her lush bow-shaped lips.
Matt added, "I don't need a weapon."
"Perhaps you should stay out here. Where it's safe."
"I will not let you go in there alone and unprotected."
She grinned. Pure amusement filled her eyes, suddenly turning them sultry. She patted the short sword at her hip. "I'm quite capable of protecting myself, thanks. It's trying to protect both of us that worries me."
Matt felt his face stretch. When Anca flinched, he realized he was baring his teeth. A low growl rumbled up his chest. "I am not helpless." He'd been a warrior both as a mortal, and his first few centuries as a vampire. He'd studied fighting until he'd made it an art form.
He'd lived in secluded monasteries learning even deadlier martial arts—and more importantly, learning when the time was right to use them.
She looked him over again, then shrugged as if she didn't entirely believe him, but was done arguing. "Let's go then."
He glanced at her sword and felt his mouth twist in a fierce grin. Weapons weren't needed when one was deadly enough with their bare hands.
Side by side, they stepped into the cave.
Matt stayed alert for any threat, determined to keep this woman safe.
That it felt like a primal urge—almost...his duty—was another matter all together.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Anca studied the rough walls and jagged ceiling. There were no signs of a trap or even any attempt to use protective wards. A tunnel burrowed deeper into the rock, barely wide enough for the two of them.
Her steps remained soundless. Her passing left not even a whisper. Beside her, Matt continued to surprise with cat-quiet movements.
The change from cold and aloof to this ruggedly handsome, strongly determined, and oddly protective man threw her of balance. Unsettled her. His mere presence a constant draw to her attention, even now when all she should be thinking about was the enemy ahead.
Magic flickered around them. Here in the heart of the earth, the spirits should be strong. Only two appeared, dim flickers of light, trembling in fear.
The lightest of breezes danced over Anca's skin. The spirits were nearly powerless, their ties to the earth and nature cut off. Which meant she'd be facing the same disadvantage with a lack of her own nature-based magics.
Only dark doings could cause such a break.
Something terrible had happened close by.
The air began to thicken. It struck Anca with the same slimy oiliness, the same tint of slithering evil blanketing the entire area.
A cloying stench billowed through the tunnel. Dank and dirty.
Wet canine. Blood.
Firelight flickered ahead, stretching the shadows into jerky puppets that crawled over the walls and ceiling.
Matt held up a hand to stop.
Anca did, had been about to wave him to do the same. They needed to sense what they could before getting any closer.
Hints of ice blue remnants here and there confirmed the presence of a wolf shifter. One of the more powerful Rogues.
A panicked male voice echoed along the rock. "You imbeciles. He's dead. The Mistress is going to kill you for this."
Other voices blubbered in denial.
Someone whined.
As if having similar thoughts, she nodded at Matt the same instant he tilted his head toward her. They slowly crept forward. The tunnel abruptly ended at a twisted, narrow opening into a smallish cavern. They stopped once more.
Matt settled his hand lightly on her shoulder, easily as if he didn't feel the pulsing spike in his veins that she did when they touched.
He pointed to the right.
Behind the dancing flames of a rock-ringed fire paced a scruffy, older man. Beanpole thin, he stood at least seven feet tall. He kept running spindly fingers through longish white hair, mumbling about punishments and deathly fury.
Sure enough, his aura pegged him as a wolf shifter with the power of a lieutenant.
"I'm not taking the blame for your screw up." He shot a cold blue gaze at two people crouching to the far left, the furthest they could get from the wolf.
The once mortal twenty-somethings, a man and woman, huddled together, watching fearfully as he started mumbling again. The vampires were weak enough. Turned only five or so years ago.
Beside her, Matt stiffened. He stared at the two, his eyes glinting furious red. His fangs peeked from between his lips. A vibration in the air said he was silently growling.
Nothing about the vampires seemed out of the ordinary to Anca. They were of little concern at the moment. With the terror flushing their auras and the way they clutched at each other, trembling and cowering, it was doubtful they'd put up much of a fight. Though they'd need dealt with to be on the safe side of things.
Anca turned her attention back to the wolf.
Pacing faster, he mumbled, "Going to be hell to pay. Mistress hates her toys dying." His gaze constantly roved the cave, always circling back to pin the two huddling vampires.
Then he stared at a dead and ravaged body lying crookedly, nearly hidden at the back of the cave. A body clearly mauled by a wolf.
The shifter's pacing steps became stiff and stilted for a second, before smoothing o
ut, quick and assured once more. His mutterings faded to nothing more than muted undecipherable sounds. Thick and powerful, his aura swirled in blues and silvers, with an encroaching darkness swallowing the color.
Anca met Matt's gaze.
His wide mouth curved in a twist, as if his anger, and most likely months of frustration, spurred him on. Yet he had no weapon, and acted like he had no need of one.
Anca pointed from herself to the wolf shifter, then Matt to the two young vampires.
His eyes widened and he shook his head sharply, gesturing that he would take care of the wolf.
Gripping her saif tighter, feeling the echoing zing of her father's magic as she did every time she drew the curved short sword for battle, Anca pointed at herself, at the shifter, then rushed into the cave.
The two dim earth spirits sparked between her and the wolf. Behind her, she felt Matt pass toward the vampires on the other side.
Keeping her blade by her leg, Anca called to her magics, blending them inside her—vampire, and Judge, the quickly fading bonds of Romani and the earth. All who she was grew into a wellspring of cloaked power.
The wolf stopped pacing. "Who are you? Not one of the Mistresses'. The local clan then?" He scratched at his neck. Ragged nails left red lines of welling blood. He took a couple jerky steps closer, whispering under his breath, "That'll fix this mess. Yeah. That'll make everything okay with her."
A sudden burst of oozing power slid over Anca.
The wolf testing her shields.
She let her magic flow through her, and into her sword. "Who are you and why are you in clan lands?" she demanded.
"What's it to you?" He grinned a wide, wolfy smile full of hunger.
"I'm detaining you under the authority of the Magic Council."
"Council?" His eyes widened. "Detain? Me? I don't think so."
Anca didn't give him a second warning. She whipped her blade at the wolf, flinging an entrapment spell at him. Sparks lit the air, exploded over his aura, turning him briefly, blinding white.
A furious scream rang from across the cave.
The two vampires were putting up a surprisingly vicious fight, as if they'd found some hidden strength. The male swung a rusted pickax that Matt dodged with surprising speed. The female sprang, jumping on Matt's back and viciously stabbed at his shoulders and neck with two knives.
Spinning, Matt flung the female away. In a flurry of fists, he knocked the man to the ground, where he lay unmoving.
The woman attacked again, knives aimed at Matt's unprotected throat.
Anca's heart jumped behind her ribs. Her blood burned with a sudden need to rush to his side, to help.
To... Protect?
Matt ducked and spun, coming up with precisely landed strikes along the vampire's spine. The snap of bone crossed the cave. The woman dropped, unable to get back up. A debilitating wound, but one the vampire would heal from. Eventually.
The wolf's laughter echoed off the rock. Reverberated from the walls.
And jerked Anca's attention back to him.
Grinning, he stepped closer. "Nah, nah. You can't take me little darlin'." He continued to grin with increased madness infecting his smile and his Arctic blue eyes. "And now you've done and broken more of the Mistresses' toys. But I bet she'll pleased when I bring her one like you."
In the time it took Anca to blink, he came closer still.
And she realized she'd been wrong.
This man was a lot more powerful than some lieutenant. More powerful than most Masters she'd known.
He'd shaken off the Council spell like it had been nothing but a brief, barely noticeable breeze.
Impossible.
To not only counteract, but blatantly ignore, her power?
Matt called her name, hurrying closer.
Worried about his safety, and a bit about her own, Anca rushed the wolf, speedily flashing behind him. She stabbed toward his gut, but he was faster.
He spun, slapping the flat of her blade away. It left his core wide open.
Anca drove a fist into his groin. He started to double over so she rammed her elbow up into the soft underside of his chin. His teeth clacked together. He cried out, gagging, and spit blood into her face.
Shaking his head, he clenched one of her arms. Sharply cutting nails raked her skin. With immense strength, the wolf threw her at the nearest wall.
She raised a bracing hand. But the hardness she slammed into wasn't rock.
It was muscle.
She stared up into Matt's blazing red eyes.
His scowl showed a hint of fang. "Be careful," he barked. An underlying tenderness in his tone struck her mute.
She jumped away and faced the wolf once more.
Glee filled his animalistic gaze. "Sometimes, the luck shows, doesn't it?" His voice ended in a near garble. Magic exploded, blowing over her with a fetid stench. He shifted in the blink of an eye, shaking shaggy fur, then grinning a wolfy grin with a muzzle full of sharp teeth.
Matt stepped to her side.
Anca held her sword ready, a part of her tracking the wolf's every move. Another part of her remained fully aware of Matt's presence.
The wolf howled, raising the hair on her neck. There was no humanity left in that sound. Only the hunger of a beast.
She weaved another spell, one taught to her by Elder Endulpias himself, and reinforced with unbreakable bonds of Council magic. It settled over the wolf. He stopped short, growling, snapping at the air.
There. That was better. And how an enemy was supposed to react to the power of the Council.
With a deafening howl of rage, the wolf ripped free of the magic.
Impossible to believe.
Yet twice couldn't be a fluke.
Not bothering to waste strength on more seemingly useless Council spells, Anca held her short sword ready, and rushed the shaggy brown wolf.
Much larger than their animal cousins, shifters had size and muscle and magic on their side. They also had damn near unlimited strength of will. She'd known shifters to ignore pain and continue to fight even as the light of life faded from their eyes.
Anca angled her sword for the wolf's unprotected throat, flashing past him with speed and power. At the last second, she pulled back, spilling blood but not cutting deep enough to kill.
His warbling cry and the sharp metallic tang widened her smile.
She blinked and Matt was there. He moved like the wind, a beautiful dance of flying hands and feet. His fists sank against the wolf's ribs in rapid hits.
The wolf's squeals mixed with pained howls. It stumbled out of reach, shaking its head. Without warning, the animal attacked, a blur almost seeming to pass through time and space as it rushed Matt. He set his stance in some form of martial arts Anca couldn't name.
Seconds before the wolf reached him, it turned. And it was fast.
It raked Anca's left arm with sharp claws. Ignoring the stinging slashes, she struck her razor sharp blade along its haunches, still pulling her hit.
She wanted to blood the beast, not kill him. Wear him down. Eventually, he would answer all her questions.
Once she got to them.
First was the thrill of the fight, the clash between magic and strength and life and death. Her pulse pounded with exhilaration.
She dodged claws, snapping fangs. The wolf somehow managed to flow untouched between her sword and Matt's lightening fast strikes. Low growls echoed through the cave. Hot dark magic pressed at her from every direction.
And she wondered at the power of this Rogue. Stronger even than a Council's Judge.
Matt's fist slammed against the side of the wolf's head.
It tumbled over the ground, was slow to sit back up. Then it howled again. Rising on its back legs in a parody of a dance, it leapt for Anca, and in a split-second sank sharp canines deep into her shoulder.
She jabbed her sword into its side, once, twice, then hurtled her magic through the blade, into the wolf's body.
With ear pie
rcing howls it let go.
Matt plowed into the animal, flinging it away from her.
It crashed against the wall. Slid to the floor.
In only an instant it regained its feet.
The wolf looked up at them and shook its head with a whimper-snort. The haze of pain faded, but didn't disappear, from its ice blue eyes.
She stepped to one side, Matt moved to the other, effectively blocking the creature in.
From the tunnel behind them came an echo of howls responding to the injured shifter.
***
The bleeding but still unsubdued shifter howled again, one long, loud sound that blended with the coming creatures. When the shifter dropped its head and looked at them, its muzzle split in a sly grin.
The rock amplified the call of the arriving wolves until Matt couldn't even guess how many there might be.
Certainly not the hundreds the cacophony of cries sounded like.
Anca pressed closer to the Rogue. It nearly came up to her chest, she was so small. With blood splattered across her shirt, and dripping down her left shoulder and arm, it was all Matt could do to reign in the urges raging through him. The demand that he rip her away from danger and get her to safety.
There was nowhere to take her.
From the tunnel spilled out furry beasts. He counted them. Five. Another, larger beast emerged. Six.
For a split second the air stirred, pushing him closer to Anca.
The shaggy Rogue jerked its muzzle to the ceiling and howled again. The newcomers joined in.
Power blasted Matt's skin like abrasive sandpaper.
The six new wolves stiffly stepped closer, hackles raised, their eyes showing nothing but animalistic needs.
The grasping air jerked him a few feet backward.
Anca matched his steps. She whispered, "Wait."
He hadn't been about to do anything. Stiffening, he forced his thoughts faster. He'd figure a way out of this.
"Take care of the Rogue," she said so quietly he barely heard. "I have the new wolves."
The woman wanted to take on six beasts while Matt only faced one? He inhaled deeply—ignoring her springtime and cherry blossom scent filling his lungs—ready to tell her no damned way.
