Last Chance (DarkWorld: SkinWalker Book 3)

by Ayer, T. G.

  LAST CHANCE

  A DarkWorld SkinWalker Novel #3

  T.G. Ayer

  Copyright 2014 by T.G. Ayer

  Find out more about T.G. Ayer at

  http://www.tgayer.com/

  http://www.tgayer.wordpress.com/

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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  Cover art by T.G. Ayer

  Cover art © T.G. Ayer. All rights reserved.

  Edited by Cassie Kelley McCown

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  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  ***

  Table of Contents

  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

  Blood Magic Chapter 1

  Blood Magic Chapter 2

  Retribution Chapter 1

  Retribution Chapter 2

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  T.G. Ayer’s Full List of Books

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  ***

  Chapter 1

  A Walker funeral isn’t that different from the funerals of any other species. Flowers, coffins, mourners. Tears, grief. Regret.

  The subtle difference lies in the species itself, and maybe in particular religious preferences. Most Walkers regard the goddess Ailuros, cat god of the Greek pantheon, as their deity of choice. Worship isn’t in any way similar to most other Earth world religions.

  Ailuros just is.

  She is a constant, like the air in your lungs or the rain falling from a moody sky. The goddess is nature personified. She gives no gifts, answers no bargains. She is merely the god of all things.

  Ailuros has no temples, not in the modern world. Not after the tsunami that was the annihilation of “witches.” Call a Walker or a Mage a witch and it was a laughably simple feat to eradicate entire clans. Places of worship were and always will be an open invitation to the religious zealots.

  Now the temple must exist inside your soul. Or else you were truly lost.

  I often wonder how different life would be if humans knew we existed. What would they think if their son or daughter brought home a werewolf or Fae for dinner? Cross-species reproduction? I shook my head, the movement jerky and short, as I swallowed a bitter laugh. I walked past faces, some familiar, many not, to the front row of white aluminum foldout chairs—my father’s lawn. And the weather had cooperated in my sister’s honor. The ground was firm, the grass a bright, cheery green. The sun streamed down, not so warm that we’d have to shed our coats, but with enough head that an afternoon outside was a pleasant experience.

  Seemed Mother Nature had remembered to pull out all the stops for Greer’s farewell.

  I’d already said my good-bye to my sister. I sighed, my thoughts flashing back to our last, very unexpected, conversation in a way I’d never expected. How many people get to talk to the dead?

  I recalled Greer’s last words.

  “So many times I pushed you away, yet you still came to help me. I didn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you… Thank you, Kai.”

  Words I never expected to hear, not from a sister who had always remained just that bit out of reach, just that bit colder than necessary.

  I recalled the expression on her face, the sincerity in her eyes, and even the love as she spoke. So unexpected, those words. Tears blurred my vision as I sat blindly on the nearest seat. I wished we’d had more time, wished we’d been able to be close. But fate didn’t deem it that way. I sighed and felt the lead weight in my stomach settle deeper into place.

  I should be happy Greer and I had made our peace, but the harsher, more awful truth hung over me like a dark, accusing cloud threatening to loose a storm of emotions. I’d failed my mother. I’d failed to save her daughter. What mother could forgive me? I didn’t deserve forgiveness. I’d failed her.

  Failed them both.

  Murmuring from the back of the seated crowd drew my thoughts away from the cesspit of my self-pity. I shifted in my seat and I glanced behind me. My father Corin, brother Iain, and four other men I didn’t recognize walked steadily along the center aisle, bearing the weight of Greer’s coffin between them.

  Made of molded concrete shaped to fit the curves of Greer’s figure, the coffin was finished with exquisitely fine detail. The sculptor had paid close attention to Greer’s aquiline features, replicating them so closely that I would have sworn Greer herself lay there. The rest of her body was sculpted wearing a peplos, an ancient toga-like garment draped elegantly around her body in the style of the Greek goddesses. Within the carved casket, Greer was dressed in a similar fashion.

  Her body had been gently bathed, perfumed oils rubbed into her skin. Her long ash-blond hair was washed, brushed, and draped over her shoulders and allowed to fall about her body to the waist. Her hands had been positioned at the center of her chest, her fingers entwined around the feet of a stone statue of Ailuros. The statue stood straight up, its feminine curves enhanced by the fall of the fabric of her simple peplos. With the head of a panther, the statue hearkened back to the days before Ailuros had evolved into the external manifestation of a cat, the days when the goddess bore the head of a lioness. Today, each Walker tribe saw Ailuros with a head that signified their own species.

  Only the cats, of course. Wolf Walkers bowed to the feet of Anubis.

  With a start, I recognized Byron Teague, the local wolf alpha, and Justin Lake, alpha of the cougars, behind my brother and father. The lynx and jaguar alphas brought up the rear of the pallbearers. Again, I was reminded that attendance at the funeral would be more a show of support of those grievi
ng her death rather than an actual payment of respect to Greer herself. I turned and faced the stone bier at the front, a simple table constructed from white marble and surrounded with vases of white roses.

  From somewhere around me, a lone violin sang sweet, sad notes. A song I didn’t recognize, but it brought tears to my eyes anyway. I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked away the moisture. I’d just regained my composure when a tap on my shoulder pulled my attention from the pallbearers who were setting the casket onto the bier. Behind me sat Lily, Logan, Saleem, and Tara. Logan’s hand felt warm and comforting on my shoulder, and I held tightly on to it. I drew strength just from the touch of the man.

  Tara leaned forward, her dark hair glinting in the sun. “Mother couldn’t make it, but she does send her apologies and her condolences,” she whispered in my ear before giving me a small, encouraging smile.

  I nodded. “Thanks,” was all I could think to say. I was overwhelmed by their support. Even more so when I caught a glimpse of Storm and Chief Murdoch sitting in the back row. Proof that I managed to gather my own little band of friends over the last few years. The one person I didn’t see was Clancy. Clancy McBride, my best friend, my supervisor at the rehab center, taken from me by the same Walker who, in the end, had killed my sister too.

  The chair beside me squawked, and I twisted around as Grams sat down. I took her hands and she squeezed mine back. We were dressed in white, me in a skirt suit and Grams in pants and a matching jacket. Walkers shunned the nothingness of black. We saw death as another step in our journey, not a marking of the end, the beginning of nothing.

  Grams and I had long supported each other in our grief, and then guilt clawed at me, ripping open old wounds. When my uncle Niko had died, we’d had no body to bury. They’d had a small memorial service, but with everything that had happened and everything Niko had done, I couldn’t bring myself to attend. Grams and everyone else had understood. I’d been weak from the Wraith-sword poison, grieving for Clancy, terrified for Mom and Anjelo and Greer, all innocents sucked into Niko’s crazy schemes.

  I tried to banish those thoughts, bring my attention back to the ceremony. With the casket in place, the pallbearers dispersed and my father and brother came to sit beside us.

  The light glinted off the carved face of the coffin as a woman glided slowly toward a lectern. The white podium stood beside the bier, covered in white fabric and decorated with a swag of white roses and baby’s breath. Etina was our equivalent to a pastor or a priest. The priestesses of Ailuros presided over deaths and births and marriages within the Walker communities. Etina, her red hair held away from her face by a band of matching braids, came to a graceful stop behind the flowers and smiled at the gathering.

  I listened with half an ear as she spoke a little about Greer, an extolling of virtues that steered clear of her leaving home without so much as a good-bye, from her involvement with Pariah Walkers Niko and Brand, and from any references to how she finally met her end. I swallowed a sob. Everywhere I looked I saw the image of my mother’s face, superimposed on everyone, saw the look of disappointment in her eyes everywhere I turned. A look I would need to face soon. My heart thudded as Etina motioned for my father to come forward to speak.

  I didn’t hear his words, my mind still on my mother and the promises I’d broken. Fingers slipped in against mine, and I looked at Iain as he held my hand, squeezing it in silent comfort. I’d refused to speak, not wanting to be a hypocrite. As sisters, we’d never been close. No point in pretending now.

  Soon my father returned to his seat, and Etina resumed her duties. Movement around me brought me back to the present as the small gathering began to rise. The service was over and the coffin would be transferred to a special cart, whose dark, gleaming wheels were almost as tall as I was. The cart would draw the coffin and the mourners along the edge of the town and deep into the mountains.

  All Walkers have a special place to bury their dead. Living in the world of humans, the only safety we had against prying eyes was the ownership of private land. As such, every Walker town would have a special burial ground. Whether they be within mountains or beneath the ground, they were all lead-lined to hide the contents and the entrances were all so well hidden you’d only know of its existence if you’d been shown. And as a rule, no human was ever shown the entrance to our mausoleums.

  And now, for the first time, I wondered how that rule applied to Mom.

  When the gathering moved to the roadside, only immediate family, elders, and the priestess completed the procession. The cart rolled back and forth on spindly wheels, then began to move, drawn by my father and brother. I followed, giving Logan and my friends a weak wave.

  “We’ll wait for you at the house,” Lily whispered as my heels scraped the hard-packed soil of the path.

  The procession moved slowly, far too slowly for my liking. To be honest, I just wanted it over and done with so I could get back to my normal life. Grams moved silently beside me, sending waves of jasmine in my direction. When she glanced at me, she threw me a soft smile, her blue eyes darker than the clear azure sky above us. But behind that comforting smile, I could see a hint of resignation with a touch of determination added in for good measure. I sighed and trudged along. If Grams could see it through, then I bloody well could too.

  We walked together, following the rugged road deep into the forest of birch and ash whose branches rose high above us but blessed us with ragged patches of golden light every few meters. I had to admit no matter how much I wasn’t enjoying the walk, the trail through the forest was utterly beautiful. The very nature of it made my panther purr inside me. I pushed her back down and walked on until eventually we moved off the dirt track and into a clearing that seemed to appear out of the forest like magic. We’d reached the base of the mountain at last. My feet were thankful. Someone please remind me why in Ailuros’s name I thought heels were a good idea.

  Someone up ahead would have pressed his hand against the plate hidden behind a fall of creeping ivy, because suddenly stone scraped and ground against stone. Then a large rock shifted aside to reveal the entrance to the burial cave. The threshold was wide enough to accommodate the wheeled carriage, allowing it to pass through comfortably. We followed it inside, and still none spoke. The last of the group stepped farther into the cool interior, and the door grunted and groaned shut.

  For the briefest moment, we were plunged into solid darkness so thick it felt I was breathing shadows into my lungs. Seconds later, lights began to pop and flicker. Small electric lanterns, strung high upon the stone walls, lit the whole entrance up in their stark light.

  The Tukats burial grounds was made up of a warren of caves leading off a long central corridor and organized according to age of family. Each individual room backed onto solid stone, allowing the family to dig deeper into the mountain to expand their space should they expand their families. Many of the older families had caves within caves allocated to them. It all tended to get a little complicated, so I’d only ever concentrated on the Odel tomb.

  The carriage wheels turned as it traveled to the farthest end of the passage, the thin wheels rolling along the stone floor. As the solemn procession moved into the shadowed depths, I followed, my heart thudding against my ribs.

  Ours was the very last of the caves, as befitting of the oldest family in Tukats. The men prepared to remove the coffin from the carriage and the priestess fussed around them, wanting to ensure they didn’t damage the fragile carvings. She needn’t have bothered. The men, two others including my father and brother, were accustomed enough to funeral preparations as to take the required care with the coffin. Etina was just a fusser.

  They slid the coffin off the wooden base of the carriage, then lifted it by the carved metal handles. The pallbearers hefted their burden through the entrance to the Odel burial chamber, finding the empty spot beside my uncle Niko’s coffin. Despite the deeds of his troubled lifetime, they had accorded him the position in death that had always been allocated
to him. He lay beside his father, my grandfather, late husband to Grams, who stood silently beside me. Everyone within the community had access to the burial caves, many coming and going as they pleased, but I knew Grams hardly ever visited. I’d never understood her reluctance until now.

  The walls exuded a deep cold that did nothing to counter the icy fingers of grief. Although I wasn’t mired deeply within the grip of mourning for Greer, I could understand the need to have someone make you feel better. And this cold, underground mausoleum certainly did nothing to help. If anything, it made me feel a little too closer to death than I would have liked. I moved toward Grams, happy to feel the warmth of her arm as she drew me closer.

  In that moment, I missed Mom so badly that I felt the stab of longing deep in my gut. It hurt, and hot tears filmed my eyes. I blinked them away and just in time, as Iain and my father joined Grams and me. The rest of the townspeople who’d accompanied us to the burial grounds moved to position themselves behind us. Etina walked silently to the head of the coffin, a sensor swinging from her hand, her skirts rustling. Ribbons of white smoke streamed from the gleaming brass container, curling and spiraling upward until they dissipated above our heads.

  The scent of incense softened the icy air, and I felt the tight fist in my gut release its hold on me.

  Etina spoke about the eternal quality of the soul and how the ones we lose are never truly gone. I almost believed her.

  I recalled the way Greer had retreated into the light, how it had felt so right, as if she were returning home. Or was it perhaps the expression on my sister’s face? One I’d never seen before.

  Peace.

  ***

  Chapter 2

  We were gathered in my father’s lounge, the fire crackling merrily away despite the warm sun outside. Once we’d returned, the Odel family had been banished to the lounge to visit with their friends and wind down. Friends of the family took over the kitchen and food duties, and trays of sandwiches and pastries were brought around by people I barely recognized. Their faces revealed no judgment, maybe a little sympathy, but not even a hint of curiosity about the specifics of Greer’s death. Dad and Ian as well as Logan and Omega had actively ensured the details would be kept under wraps. That didn’t mean the people of Tukats were ignorant of my sister’s relationship with Niko and his Pariahs, or that they would be ignorant of Greer’s relationship with Brand. People talked and Walkers were just like humans when it came to gossip.