Wicked Hour

by Chloe Neill

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I looked back at him, guilt and apology warring in his eyes, and tried to lighten the mood. “Why? Did you do this?”

  He ignored the joke. “I heard noises outside around two or three o’clock. I went outside to check, startled something coming around the side of the cabin. It ran back toward the road.”

  I lifted my brows. “Human, shifter, or creature?”

  He pointed at the ground. “You tell me.”

  The ground was crossed by a bevy of marks—human or shifter footprints, animal tracks. And I was about to ask Connor to point out what he was seeing, when I realized it wasn’t a group of marks; it was a single mark with several parts. Not like the creature—with its elongated track. Not like a human, or shifter in human form, with its longer and wider pad. But a mix of the two. A long pad, with the indentation of paw pads at the top.

  “Half shifter, half creature?” I asked, looking back at him.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it didn’t transform completely. The thing I saw—something tall, thin, sparse hair—wasn’t a shifter, and it wasn’t a human. It was gone before I could get a good look.”

  “So maybe whatever magic they’re using affects the shifting—changes what they shift into, or how they do it.”

  “And it’s not working very well,” he said. “I think it’s supposed to be a hybrid.”

  “Aren’t shifters hybrids?”

  “No, we’re both man and wolf. Our transition is like flipping a coin—you have the wolf or the human.”

  “But the creatures are like both human and wolf at the same time,” I guessed. “Wolves that walk on two legs.”

  “And enhanced,” Connor said. “Bigger than both.” He shook his head, looked at me with apology in his eyes. “I didn’t inspect the shutters. I only checked they were still in place. I’m sorry they hurt you. And I’m sorry I allowed it.”

  Whatever was between us, I could give him this. “You don’t owe me an apology, and you didn’t allow anything. There was no reason for you to go over the shutters with a microscope. It’s illogical they’d have tried to remove them.”

  Guilt shifted to confusion. “What?”

  “This is indirect and sloppy. Maybe they think causing me pain will hurt you. They apparently don’t realize vampires aren’t comatose during the day; we sleep. Pain wakes us up. They’d have been a lot more successful attacking me or you away from the resort. Here, the odds are higher they’d be seen or caught.”

  Connor blinked, looked back at the shutters. “This was sloppy.”

  “Yeah, it was.” But since it plainly wasn’t beyond them, I’d put a blanket over the window tonight, just in case.

  And something else was interesting. . . . “It ran away.”

  “Yeah,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “I scared it off.”

  “Right, but that’s new, or at least different from last night. Last night they were eager to fight.”

  “You’re right. This is more like the attack on Beth.”

  “Nervous around the resort,” I suggested, and felt better that we seemed to be getting into our rhythm again. “So,” I began, thinking it through, “they’re angry about last night, they decide to get revenge, but they’re wounded, tired, and maybe the shifting is broken. They aren’t at full power, but they still come back here to take a shot at me, and you by proxy.”

  “We need to find them.”

  “Yeah. We do. Before they hurt anyone else.” I looked around. “Did Alexei find any tracks leading from the Stone farm? Any indication of where they went? Maybe a handy path leading right to Traeger’s cabin?”

  “No,” he said. “And no broken magic at the resort. Either they didn’t come back here, or they did and the magic dispersed too quickly for him to sense it.”

  “If they didn’t come back here, where would they go?”

  He opened his mouth to add something, closed it again at the sound of footsteps.

  We turned, found Maeve coming our way, three bulky male shifters behind her. They all wore leather, had guns belted to their waists. Maeve wore a very self-satisfied smile along with her leggings, boots, and leather jacket.

  She ignored me, looked at Connor. “You’re wanted. Both of you.” Now she slid that gaze to me, with eagerness that made me feel a little punchy.

  “Wanted?” Connor asked coolly.

  “Cash and the elders. And Ronan and his people. They want to talk to you about last night.” She slid her gaze to me. “About what she did. Let’s go.”

  The shifters stepped closer. In response to the obvious threat, Connor moved to stand in front of me. While I appreciated the gesture—maybe we weren’t done?—I didn’t want him putting himself in danger at my expense.

  “You hurt her, you hurt the Apex. Understood?”

  It was clear from their expressions, hard and eager, that they wanted to fight. But while they might have followed the clan’s orders, they were at least smart enough not to take on the Apex while his son was watching.

  “Then you’d better go with us willingly,” Maeve said.

  If she realized I was wearing a sword, she didn’t mention it. Maybe she thought a vampire with a sword wasn’t a match for a roomful of shifters. A serious error on her part.

  Connor watched her for a moment, meeting her gaze directly until she looked away.

  “What happened there?” she asked, gesturing to the shutters. Brow furrowed, she looked honestly confused and surprised at what she saw. “Did something hit it?”

  “Something—someone—tried to pry it off,” Connor said.

  She frowned. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Where do they want to talk to us?”

  “The lodge.”

  “Then let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  * * *

  We walked in silence. Maeve walked in front. I was behind Connor, gaze drilling into his back, as if that might tell me what he was thinking and feeling—and what I was supposed to be doing about it. The beefy shifters walked behind us, just in case we might make a run for it.

  “A minute,” Connor said to Maeve when we reached the lodge. “I need a minute with Elisa.”

  She looked at me, evaluated. “Two minutes. Come on, guys,” she said, and they all walked inside, let the door slam shut behind them.

  “Fuck.” The word was a swear and an exhalation. He ran a hand through his hair.

  “They’re going to confront us about Carlie.”

  “At least.”

  “You’re worried about what they might do?”

  “I don’t get worried,” he said, voice snappish, then held up a hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m—not handling this well, either.”

  “What aren’t you handling well? The monsters, the clan, or the fact that I assaulted someone you consider to be family?”

  His face went hard, and my stomach roiled with nerves.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. And when I was steady again: “I’m not handling it well, either.”

  “We need to talk,” he said, voice as hard as his expression had been. “But not right now. Not until we deal with this. Let me take the lead.”

  I looked at him, searched his face, but the mask was already in place. Angry and arrogant, and ready to face down whatever the clan put in front of us.

  I understood battle, and I understood politics. But I liked one of those a lot more than the other. I wasn’t looking forward to this war of words. Words were often pointless, and politics just an irritating ego game. Give me a sword any day.

  “We’ll talk,” Connor said again, then leaned forward. He put a hand at the back of my neck, rested his forehead against mine. “Whatever happens in there, I need you to trust me.”

  It was a big ask, given our history, the fact that we hadn’
t yet talked about what had happened last night. But these were his people, and this was his turf.

  “Okay,” I said.

  And then we walked inside.

  * * *

  * * *

  Maeve waited inside the door. When she saw us, she turned on her heel—a soldier called to war—and headed for the stairs. We followed her, and the beef followed us. We went back up to the former ballroom, found the doors closed. But that didn’t stop the magic that spilled through the walls. Shifter. Vampire. Pack and coven.

  Maeve gave a rhythmic knock—three, two, three—and the door opened. We walked inside. There were at least forty shifters in the room, along with a few vampires. It smelled of heat and animal, and the air practically vibrated with magic. And heady anticipation.

  The shifter portion of the crowd was split neatly in half—young shifters on one side, older on the other. A nation divided.

  Cash, Everett, Georgia, and Ronan stood at the front of the room, waiting for our arrival. Miranda stood near them, and the smile on her face was triumphant. Not, I thought, a good sign.

  We walked through the crowd, which parted to let us through, then closed the circle again, surrounding us. Not the best strategic position, but we didn’t have much choice. At least we had Alexei, whom I spotted weaving through the crowd near the far wall.

  “It seems we have a rather significant problem,” Cash said when we reached the group. His arms were crossed, stance wide. And he stood just slightly in front of the others, as if the elders had again ceded control to him.

  “The clan members who attacked the Stone farm last night? Yes, I’d consider that a problem.” Connor’s voice was hard as granite, but smooth as glass. The sounds the gathered shifters made were much more primal, much angrier. Outrage given voice at the possibility the injuries had been inflicted by their own members.

  “We have no information the animals—whatever they were—were clan,” Cash said. “None have been positively identified.”

  “As you’ve been advised, the attacks on Beth, Loren, the Stone farm smelled like clan.”

  “So you think, what, shifters learned to shift into something else? Into something new?”

  “I think they’re using magic—and badly—to change themselves into the creatures we saw last night. They were undeniably clan.”

  “If they’re proven to be clan, they’ll be dealt with.”

  “Does that include the perpetrators of the newest attack? The one that occurred a few short hours ago?”

  Connor’s tone was casual, and he watched Cash carefully. But if Cash knew about the shutters, he didn’t show it.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about the creature—or the half-shifted creature—who tried to pry the shutters off our cabin and expose Elisa to the sun.”

  Cash’s brow furrowed. “That didn’t happen.”

  “Shutters are still there, damaged though they are. You can inspect them yourself.” Connor took a step forward. “If you have any control over the creatures, I’d strongly suggest you . . . dissuade them . . . from attacking the daughter of one of the most powerful Master vampires on the continent.” He lifted a shoulder. “But that’s just my suggestion.”

  It was a good strategy—taking the offensive and starting with a recitation of the clan’s crimes. We’d see how well it worked when Cash shifted us back to the inevitable topic.

  “If anyone in the clan is involved,” Cash said again through gritted teeth, “they’ll be dealt with.” For the first time, he shifted his gaze to me. “Our focus right now is on other crimes, including the near death of a human. Georgia,” he said, and she stepped forward.

  She looked at Connor with apology in her eyes. But she wasn’t feeling it enough, I thought with some anger, that she’d refuse to stand with Cash and Everett.

  “Sheriff Paulson came around during the day,” she said. “He knew about the attack at the bonfire. Some of the other humans had called him, described an animal attack. He thought it sounded like the attack on Loren. Wanted to know our progress on that investigation, if we’d found the culprit.”

  “So he acted like law enforcement,” Connor said flatly. “What did you tell him?”

  “That Loren was killed by an animal,” Cash said, pulling our attention back to him. “Which is the truth.”

  “It’s the least important part of the truth,” Connor said.

  This time, Cash was the one who shrugged carelessly.

  “You’re surprisingly lackadaisical about the fact that one of your elders has been murdered, and several of your clan members have been attacked. Makes me wonder if you’re involved.”

  Cash’s gaze was cold and hard, his only movement the tapping of fingers against his biceps.

  “And let’s correct the record,” Connor continued. “It was your clan who nearly killed Carlie. Elisa saved her, sparing you some very penetrating questions from the authorities.”

  Cash’s gaze didn’t waver. “Carlie was bitten and changed without her consent.”

  I looked at Ronan, found his expression blank, his gaze cool. I guessed he still agreed with Cash’s assessment, and hadn’t become magnanimous overnight.

  “To save her life,” Connor repeated. “Because she was attacked and left for dead by one of the clan members under the influence of some very nasty magic.”

  “Evidence?” Cash asked.

  Connor cocked his head. “Are you telling me you can’t detect the scent of bad magic, Cash? That’s an important skill for a clan leader.”

  Cash unfolded his arms, and although he didn’t step forward, the move seemed hostile. “You just have answers for everything, don’t you? But your attitude, shitty as it is, doesn’t change the basic facts—your little girlfriend made a vampire within our territory without our consent, and in Ronan’s territory without Ronan’s consent.”

  I bristled at “little girlfriend,” especially since Connor and I had barely talked since the fight. I felt the monster’s agreement. It was no mere companion, and it wasn’t little.

  That we agreed was an odd sensation. But not entirely bad.

  “If Carlie dies,” Cash continues, “or if she survives and regrets what happened to her, that will have disastrous consequences for the clan and the Pack.”

  “Less disastrous consequences than her dying in the woods because of your people?”

  “All sorts of strange things happen in the woods,” Cash said. His attitude—his carelessness toward human life—echoed Ronan’s.

  “You’re so afraid you’d let a human die rather than save her life and face the consequences?” Connor’s tone was matter-of-fact and carried a shadow of censure.

  “Fuck you,” Cash said. “I don’t care who you are. You don’t walk into the clan and call us cowards.”

  “I didn’t call you cowards,” Connor said. “I said you’re afraid, and you are. I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Cash. Humans. Change. Pick one.”

  “Fuck you,” Everett said.

  Connor’s smile was feral. “I’ll offer again—you want to try me on, Everett? I’d be happy to oblige.”

  The crowd began to move, to shift, to talk, anticipating a fight, willing one to happen.

  “Let’s go,” Connor said. “Me and you, right here. We don’t even have to tell my father. It can be our little secret.”

  He pulled off his jacket, let it drop to the floor. He’d worn a tank beneath, the fabric baring slick and strong muscle, and I heard more than a few sounds of throaty appreciation in the crowd.

  “Come on,” Connor said, voice low and threatening, the room silent to catch every word.

  Fury burned in his eyes like blue fire, all pretense of humanity gone from his expression. It was the haughty look of an angry titan, a primal god, enraged by the inanity of lesser beings.
<
br />   It was impossible to deny he had the power, the authority, to be Apex. To lead the North American Central Pack and its shifters. And I bet every shifter in the room knew it.

  Everett was either too dumb to figure it out or naive enough to believe he was stronger, because he curled his hands into fists, stepped forward until there was only a foot between them. That no fear crossed Everett’s eyes made me think he was even dumber than I’d first imagined. “Come on, pretty boy. I’ve hurt plenty of men in my life. Wouldn’t mind adding another to the list.”

  He tried to shove Connor back, but Connor was younger and stronger, and resisted easily. And the expression on his face—full of cold hatred—didn’t change.

  The crowd wasn’t sure what to think.

  “Oh,” Connor said mildly. “Were we starting?” His fist shot out, snapping Everett’s head back.

  Everett roared, and the crowd surged forward. I had my sword in hand in a heartbeat. I moved between Connor and the advancing crowd, felt Alexei sidle along beside me, and watched surprise light in the eyes of the shifters we faced. They hadn’t expected I’d be willing to fight or that a shifter would stand with me.

  Ronan, for his part, merely stood by and watched, apparently content to judge, but not actually involve himself.

  “Stop this!” Georgia’s voice boomed across the room. I glanced back, watched as she muscled Connor and Everett apart while Cash looked on with a bland smile.

  “This is insane!” Georgia yelled. “Everyone calm down. Everett, step the fuck back.”

  Everett growled, blood seeping from his lip, but he did as she demanded, working his jaw with a meaty hand.

  “Connor.” Georgia’s word wasn’t a request, but an order.

  He lifted his hands, put more space between him and Everett, nodded at me and Alexei. I put my sword away, and we took positions by his side.

  Cash spared Everett a look of disappointment, then shifted his gaze to Connor. “The vampire broke the rules.”

  “Her name is Elisa. And the rules needed breaking.”