And then everything shifted.
Kissing Alfie was far, far more than any fantasy of kissing Alfie could have been. Once she had felt his lips – sort of firm and warm – against hers, along with his big hand on her shoulder and his other hand on the back of her head, she knew she was lost.
The fantasy version of kissing Alfie she had been able to resist – just. Now she knew what the reality was like, she was lost to him. Swept away forever.
Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Mathilde Madden
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Author’s Note
Copyright
About the Book
Alfie opened his eyes. She was back already.
As Divinia picked her way across the cage towards him, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. His left hand was still chained to the bars behind him, his right hand too injured to be any use.
‘How are you feeling, Alfie?’ she said, crouching down in front of him.
Alfie moaned something. His mouth felt like it was full of dry sand.
‘Oh, I know, I know,’ she touched his face. ‘One more time and then we’ll see about getting you something to drink.’
As her hands moved down his body, Alfie tried not to scream.
Iris and Alfie have been driven apart by the strongest forces in the werewolf world. The powerful thrall of the Divine Wolf: the mother of them all. Now Iris needs to win Alfie back, not just for herself, but because the fate of the world could rest upon it.
But the only way to free Alfie from the power of the Divine Wolf is to kill her. Something that could end the lives of all werewolves. Including Alfie himself.
About the Author
Mathilde Madden is a talented young author of erotic romance who specialises in writing stories about contemporary urban culture.
She is the author of Equal Opportunities, Mad About the Boy and Peep Show, as well as the paranormal trilogy: The Silver Collar, The Silver Crown and The Silver Cage. Her work is also featured in the short-story collection Possession. All titles are available from Virgin’s Black Lace.
She lives in Brighton.
By the same author:
EQUAL OPPORTUNITIES
MAD ABOUT THE BOY
PEEP SHOW
THE SILVER COLLAR
THE SILVER CROWN
Look out for the previous two books in Mathilde Madden’s Silver Trilogy:
THE SILVER CROWN published December 2007
THE SILVER COLLAR published October 2007
Catch the prequel novella:
THE SILVER CHAINS (in POSSESSION, the Black Lace collection of shape-shifter novellas, published February 2008)
And in LUST BITES (the Black Lace collection of vampire novellas – published November 2007) read her short novel – UNDER HER SKIN
For more information about The Silver Cage and Mathilde Madden’s other books please visit www.mathildemadden.co.uk
The Silver Cage
Mathilde Madden
1
IRIS WALKED OVER a small bridge and found herself in the Botanical Gardens. She was looking for witches, the only people left who could help her. It was about time they took some damn responsibility for what she was going through.
Appearing as if out of the greenery, a woman dressed in a pencil skirt, seamed stockings and heels fell into step with her.
‘Hey, Iris, right? The warrior wolf? Friend of Hecate?’ the woman said with a sparkly long-toothed smile.
Iris rolled her shoulders. They still really hurt. In fact, her arms were aching all over. ‘Hecate?’
‘Yeah. Well, Cate. That’s just kind of a joke we do. Hey, Cate! Hecate. My name’s Lilith and I kind of get sick of being the only witchily named one.’
Iris nodded vaguely. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Your wrists are bleeding, did you know?’
Iris looked at them. Her wrists were ringed with angry red bracelets flecked with blood. She rubbed the left one with her right hand. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘yes. That’s from trying to . . . Well you know.’ Because of course Lilith would know. Being a witch, she would know everything.
Lilith smiled. ‘Oh yeah. I know just who you are. You’re the girl who was banging that ridiculously hot werewolf, aren’t you? His girl Friday. Alfie, right? Hey, you know, tell me, did he ever do that modelling?’
‘Modelling, no I don’t think . . . He probably wouldn’t want to because of what happened back with the Beast. You know he was attacked by the Beast while he was doing some modelling for my brother.’
‘And that’s, what, given him a phobia of taking his top off for the camera?’
‘No, I think he just . . . Oh, I don’t know. He hasn’t done anything like that. Well, unless he’s done it since I last saw him, anyway. That’s kind of what I came to talk to you about –’
Lilith clapped her hands, cutting off Iris’s words. ‘Oh, the silly boy. Probably worried about being exploited. Tell him they’re very tasteful. I mean, they’ll be nude but back and white. All arty. And, hey, weren’t you married to Blake Tabernacle as well?’
‘Um, yeah, kind of. For a bit.’
‘Wow. Hard to even see him as the marrying kind,’ said Lilith. ‘You do have an interesting type. Werewolf hunters, werewolves.’ Lilith shrugged, laughing. ‘What can it all mean? Are you trying for some kind of award? Weirdest back catalogue ever?’
Iris was confused by this, but ignored it. ‘Please. Are you going to help me? Alfie’s been taken by the Silver Crown and this, uh, this woman,’ Iris said.
‘She’s not a woman. She’s the Divine. The divine wolf. The she-wolf. The mother of them all. She’s practically the werewolf god. Or goddess, whatever. I’m not so keen on gendered words myself.’
‘Well, yes, her. She has Alfie. You have to help me get him back.’
Lilith stopped walking and turned to face Iris, her heels grinding in the gravel. ‘I know. Thing is, doll, I think you’re going to have to let her have him. I mean, he wants to be with her. I mean not wants wants. But she’s got a power over him that can’t be imagined. She’s it.’
‘She took his collar off.’
‘Well, exactly
.’
‘But I love him. Is there really nothing I can do to get him back?’
Lilith wrinkled her long nose. ‘Well, you know, that’s not really the question. The question is what will happen if you don’t get him back?’
‘What will happen?’
‘The Silver Crown have been using the Divine’s power for centuries. Now the circle is truly fucked and her power is barely contained. While they had her, everyone was safe. She gave them the power to keep werewolves hidden from the wider world and they kept her controlled. All of the supers agreed it was a reasonable arrangement. It’s been going on forever. I know Sabrina was a little bit on the dark side, but it seemed fair enough to let her work with them. Make sure they had the eleven Beasts they needed to keep the Divine under control. Of course, we had the prophecies; we knew you’d be along to mess it all up sooner or later.’
Iris frowned, ‘The supers?’
‘What?’
‘You said, “the supers agreed it was a reasonable arrangement”. What are “the supers”?’
‘Supernatural people, witches, vamps, lycs.’
‘You call yourselves “the supers”?’
‘Well, OK, no, actually, but I figured if I did it enough it might catch on. Now, to get on with the point – she-wolf – without the Silver Crown containing her she will probably unite all the werewolves in the world. Organise them. Bring them together. I expect she’ll want them to wipe humanity off the face of the earth – that’s normally the way things like this go.’
‘She can do that?’
‘She’s the top of the werewolf food chain. The number-one sire. Every wolf answers to her.’
Iris straightened up. ‘Is she an Ancient Beast?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps technically. She’s certainly both ancient and bestial. She is literally a wolf. It’s only magic that makes her look and sound human.’
‘So I could kill her. I kill Ancient Beasts.’
‘Hmm,’ said Lilith, letting her weight sway from foot to foot. ‘You could. But that might kill every werewolf on earth.’
Iris swallowed. ‘Every werewolf?’
‘Well, I think so. She’s the top of their power chain. She holds it all together. Thrall. The bonds of power between werewolves that keep them all in line. Without her, without those controls, they’d just all start killing each other. You’ve seen how they operate. Savage creatures. They’d all die. But you could try it. I mean, it’s understandable, if the alternative is watching the Divine wipe humanity off the face of the earth.’
‘But Alfie. Would it kill Alfie?’
‘Oh no.’ Lilith smiled.
Iris’s heart leapt. ‘Alfie’d be OK?’
‘Alfie’d indeed be OK, because you’re not going to do it. You’re not going to do anything. You’re still trapped in the tunnels under Oxford, chained up, dying.’
‘Oh.’ Suddenly Iris’s grip on where she really was felt very wobbly. ‘Is this . . .?’
‘A hallucination? Yes, sorry, didn’t you know? You’re really not well at all down there.’
‘Well, actually, now I come to think of it, I have no memory of how I got here.’
‘Yeah. Quite. So that’s the thing. I don’t see how you’re even going to get out of those tunnels, let alone save the world.’
‘I don’t suppose you could do some magic and help me out.’
‘Ah, well, that’s the other thing. Stuff like this, we really don’t like to meddle.’
‘But the wiping humanity off the face of the earth thing.’
‘Yes, but, well, if we witches intervened every time that was threatened . . .’
‘Seriously? No chance?’
‘Sorry.’
‘But I’m the warrior wolf. It’s my destiny. I’m the one who kills them all.’
‘Well, yes, you are, but you said it. Prophecies are never clear until the events they talk about are over. When this is played through, I’m sure we’ll see how to apply what is written. I’m writing this paper about that actually. Prophetic hindsight . . .’
Lilith’s voice trailed off and the two women walked a little further down the gravel path together. Now she knew she was still in the tunnels, the constant dull pain in Iris’s arms seemed to increase until it was almost unbearable.
Lilith said, ‘God, this is feeling kind of awkward.’
‘I know. Shouldn’t I have woken up screaming in the chains by now?’
‘Yeah. Actually I could fix that for you. Then we could call it quits.’
‘Quits?’
‘Yeah. So no whining that witches never help you out.’ Lilith made a gesture like she was wiping a crumb away from her bottom lip, then snapped her fingers.
2
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
BLAKE TABERNACLE, WEREWOLF hunter and Director of the Institute of Paraphysiology, fiddled with his coms set. But he knew it was no use.
Before Iris left on her suicide mission to rescue Alfie, she had been locked with him in the cellar of a werewolf pack house in Oxford. While she was there, in typical Iris hardass style, she’d cut her own arm open with a scalpel and stuck a tiny transmitter from her coms set into it. Blake had been trying to trace her signal for four days, but it just led him to a busy shopping street in the middle of Oxford – with Iris nowhere to be found – no matter how he fiddled with the calibrations.
Alfie had a chip in him too. He hadn’t been quite as brutal as Iris about acquiring it. Blake had sliced him while he looked away. Alfie was the best doctor of the three of them, having done half a medical degree before he was bitten. A doctor and a werewolf – but he still said he’d rather Blake did the butchery for him.
Blake scoffed, mocking him for not being as tough as his girlfriend, but then Iris said, ‘It’s because he needs it really deep, Blake. Mine’s just popped under the skin; you need to sink his right into the muscle so the wolf doesn’t rip it out when he changes.’
Blake looked at her. ‘Why don’t you do it for him then? He’s your boyfriend.’
Iris bit her lip. ‘Because you’re the sadistic bastard around here.’
Blake sunk the scalpel as deep as he could into Alfie’s bicep, feeling Alfie tense and then shudder as he fought the pain. Alfie’s face was turned away, but even at this angle Blake could see the tautness in his jaw. Blake understood the reactions he was looking at quite intimately. He had hurt people deliberately before.
Alfie was looking at Iris as he suffered. She reached out and stroked the back of his hand.
Blake picked up the chip with tweezers from his med kit and rammed it hard into Alfie’s wound. Alfie bellowed in pain.
‘Blake!’ Iris shouted.
Blake sniffed, ignoring her. ‘That’s puppy dog chipped,’ he said as he turned away from them, shutting out the inevitable tableau of Iris comforting Alfie, before she took the suture needle to sew up his poor wound. He concentrated instead on popping a third chip under his own skin.
And that had been the whole idea. Iris’s idea. They were trapped in the cellar, the werewolf authorities, the Silver Crown, were coming for them – they needed a way to find each other again when the Crown inevitably split them up. And so, when Iris and Blake managed to escape – Blake’s doing, his heroic moment – Iris used the trace from Alfie’s chip to go back for him. When she hadn’t returned, Blake tried to find her with the signal. But Iris’s chip wasn’t doing its job.
Several hours after Iris left, she had definitely met up with him; Blake had replotted the whole thing with the cached data on the coms system. Then Alfie had left. But the signal from Iris’s chip hadn’t moved. Alfie had gone east and then Iris’s signal had flickered. Then faded completely.
Blake stared at the signals, tracing the co-ordinates on maps, trying to work out what had happened to Iris. Was she dead? Had she died trying to save Alfie just like Blake had said she would? Or was Iris with Alfie and had she removed the chip so Blake couldn’t follow?
If he could at least fi
nd the chip itself – according to his data, it was still in the centre of Oxford, pulsing away.
If he just had a bit more time.
He sighed and turned off his computer for the last time. All around him his precious lab was cleared or packed into boxes.
He walked back into his office through the adjoining door. The imposing figure of Erin Cobalt was standing there, watching casually as his library of books – a collection that was his life’s work – was loaded into crates by several identical lackies. She turned, immaculate as always with her neatly swept-up grey/blonde hair, perfect dark-green suit and tiny-heeled pointedtoed black shoes. She was tall and didn’t need a heel lift to tower over Blake.
She was holding a clipboard, Blake’s own aluminium clipboard. She set it down on the edge of his otherwise empty desk. The computer that usually sat there was boxed. He knew the drawers were empty. His heart was heavy and the inside of his mouth tasted sour. It was all gone. It was over.
‘Ah, Mr Tabernacle,’ said Erin. ‘Ready to go?’ She picked up the handcuffs sitting on the desk next to the clipboard.
Blake nodded and crossed the room, dragging his feet a little on the forever-worn carpet. He looked down, just watching his progress; his combat boots, his dark-red fatigues, the edges of his white lab coat just edging into his vision as he watched himself walking away from everything he knew.
When he got to where Erin was standing, he turned his back and offered his wrists to her for the cuffs.
3
ALFIE FRIDAY – 21 YEARS a man, 11 years a werewolf – had never really stuck at anything in either of his lives. Right from the start. Even his schooling had been erratic. His parents – both doctors – were in the military, and he’d been bundled about the country and the world; saying goodbye had been a way of life.
He’d often felt like an afterthought. Another job that needed to be done before his parents could get on with something else – something that usually amounted to the greater good.
He’d got into Oxford to study medicine mainly down to luck and charisma rather than academic prowess. When he dropped out after three years – although the circumstances were way beyond his control – it still felt like part of a pattern.
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