Crimson Hunter

by N. D. Jones

  “There will be chaos. Scared witches make for deadly witches, Oriana. Threatened black werewolves, even ones in silver snares, won’t stand by and wait to be turned by muracos or attacked as a preemptive strike by frightened witches.”

  “We need to evacuate the region, as soon as possible.”

  “It’s a large area, and you have less than two days.”

  Dark brows scrunched together. “Why only two days?”

  Kalinda waited as Oriana contemplated her own question. Her gaze traveled to her sleeping granddaughter, calm and quiet, so unlike when she’d arrived. The sound of Keira’s high-pitched screams had brought Kalinda running from the balcony.

  She reached for the comforter covering Keira’s petite form, hating what she would see if she pulled the blanket back, but drawn to the sight anyway. Hand on the comforter, she stopped at Oriana’s firm command of, “Don’t.”

  “I want to check on the healer’s work. Her bruises should be better.”

  Oriana nodded and lowered her eyes but said nothing more. Kalinda took that as permission to proceed, so she pulled down the comforter. Keira slept in only a pair of panties and an undershirt. After Keira’s birth, Kalinda had added a dresser to Oriana’s childhood suite, stocking it with items for her grandchild. Whatever Keira may have needed when she visited Kalinda, she made sure to keep on hand, including clothing. But the healer had wanted nothing against Keira’s bruised skin, so Oriana had washed and dressed her in the barest of clothing before tucking her into bed and rocking her to sleep.

  “Marrok didn’t mean to hurt our daughter.” So she had said, a half dozen times, apologizing to Keira who cried during the non-invasive medical examination.

  “I know.”

  “He didn’t realize how tightly he was holding her. He thought he was protecting her. Marrok did protect her.”

  “I know that as well.” Marrok had protected Keira to the point of nearly breaking her arms and legs in his rough grip.

  Keira’s body no longer bore the bright red of fresh bruises but the bluish-purple of the early stage of healing. In a few hours, they should be better still and pale green. With another treatment, maybe tomorrow, the bruises should be completely healed. But one had to be careful using strong magic on children as young as Keira. It could do more harm than good. It was a testament to Oriana’s concern about Keira’s health and shock over Marrok that she’d consented to Kalinda calling for her personal healer to work on Keira. It could’ve also been Oriana’s wide-eyed worry over Keira’s head wound.

  Kalinda tucked the comforter back around her precious grandbaby. Bhavari would suffer for what she had done. Kalinda would see that she did.

  “He didn’t mean to hurt her,” Oriana repeated, a mantra only necessary for herself. She raised her head. “He threw her to get to me. I heard my baby land, a hard thud. But there wasn’t anything I could do to help her. I couldn’t risk taking my eyes off Marrok to see where Keira had landed and if she was okay. He was right in front of me, and all I could see was him. But my mind and heart were torn between the two of them.”

  Pulled by their mutual love for Keira, heir to Earth Rift, Kalinda and Oriana peered down at the little girl, a bandage on her forehead. The healer had closed the wound, the bandage unnecessary except as a deterrent to keep Keira from scratching after she complained the magic was “itchy.”

  “The white moon is in two days. I’d forgotten. That doesn’t give us much time to evacuate the citizens of Janus Nether’s three cities.”

  “No, it doesn’t, and it must be done quietly and quickly. We don’t want to risk Bhavari learning of the evacuation and altering her plans. Our best chance to recapture or to kill the muracos is to have them where we know they’ll be and to have our Crimson Guards waiting for them. Dividing our forces between three cities is a far better option than scouring an entire human region for them in small groups. And that’s assuming you’re correct about Bhavari having hidden the muracos in Perilune Rille.”

  Kalinda continued, her perspective firm, her tone confident. “After what she did in Steel Rise, Bhavari and the muracos could be anywhere in the world. If she’s working by herself, which I doubt, Bhavari could jump the werewolves to a new location. It would take a dozen or more jumps to transport so many werewolves, but it’s doable. Using an extraction spell is certainly quicker and safer than using the Magerun system. Bhavari is an intelligent woman. She would’ve correctly assumed you would alert the Crimson Guard Transit Authority, providing the CGTA with the name and picture of every escaped Steelburgh muraco and updating their intel to include the witch suspects.”

  “Everything you’ve said makes sense. It’s all very logical and tidy, but Dr. Bhavari jumping those muracos to my home was messy and irrational. You and I know she had to have been there with them, even if only for a few seconds to ground her magic in the new location and set the forcefield.”

  Oriana made to leave the bed again, but Kalinda, who sat on the side of the bed beside her daughter, didn’t budge, earning her a frown she couldn’t care less about.

  “Mother, I need to get up and get to work.”

  “What you need is rest.”

  “I don’t have the time to spare. Less than two days, remember? The white moon will bolster the werewolves’ strength while sapping ours, making that day the ideal time to launch an attack against us. It should’ve occurred to me earlier. I had wondered why Abelone and the others had waited to unleash the muracos. Now I know. The biannual white moon solar eclipse. If Dr. Bhavari doesn’t move on Janus Nether during this white moon, she’ll have to wait until October for the second opportunity. That couldn’t have been part of Abelone’s plan. I would’ve hunted the witches and muracos down long before then. No one as smart as Abelone would give me that kind of lead time, not if they wanted their plan to succeed.”

  Kalinda nodded, smiling. For all of Oriana’s kindness and idealism, when it came to being Crimson Hunter, she overflowed with confidence. Kalinda had always relied on that trait in her daughter.

  Right now, today, I need my daughter’s idealism more than her confidence. When this series of wretched events is all said and done, Oriana’s confidence will have taken a hit. Nothing she can’t recover from. But her idealism will have died a painful, overdue death.

  “Time is of the essence, which doesn’t change the fact that you need to rest. Bader is in the other room. He’ll stay and help me make evacuation plans while you get a few hours of sleep.” She touched Oriana’s cheek, thumb rubbing a dark circle forming under her eyes. “Nothing will happen while you rest. I promise.”

  “You can’t keep that promise. The last time I looked away, I lost a piece of my heart.”

  “But the other half is right beside you. Rest, my dear girl. You’ll need all your strength for the upcoming battle. Sleep for a few hours. If not for me or for yourself, then for your daughter. A girl needs her mother.”

  Kalinda stood, granting Oriana the space to slide down the bed. Long legs curled around Keira, right arm caging the child in and keeping her safe. The luck of the sun had been on Bhavari’s side to have jumped into Oriana’s suite and not to have found her there the way she was now, eyes closed, drifting into unconsciousness but deadlier for the bundle she guarded. There was no more lethal predator than a witch mother.

  “Sleep well. Your father and I will be right here when you awaken. When you do, I’ll need my Crimson Hunter.”

  “You mean your weapon of muraco destruction.” Oriana huddled even closer to Keira. “Give me your order now, Mother.”

  “What do you—”

  “The order you’ve wanted to give me from the beginning. The one you know I’ll hate because it will make me no better than every other matriarch of Earth Rift. You know I can’t say no, that this situation makes it impossible for me to do anything other than obey because not to will condemn scores of black werewolves to Marrok’s fate. So, just say the words and leave me alone with my child.”

  Kalinda star
ed at Oriana’s back. A black robe covered a dress splattered with Marrok’s blood. She’d tried to talk Oriana into changing but her words had fallen on deaf ears. But the soiled garment would soon come off, replaced by Oriana’s red-and-black Crimson Hunter body armor. Kalinda had had them custom-made for Oriana, and three hung in her bedroom closet.

  Placing a knee on the bed, Kalinda leaned over Oriana, kissed her head, and whispered in her ear, “Put those rabid dogs down, Crimson Hunter, that’s an order from your matriarch.”

  April 25, 2243

  Perilune Rille

  Apogean Tide Borough

  Bhavari needed to get off-planet. But how? She couldn’t risk accessing her bank account or using her interplanetary passport. Both could be tracked.

  She paced in small circles across the street from the warehouses. From this vantage point, she would see anyone converging on the complex from the outside. If Crimson Guards jumped inside the warehouses with the muracos, she would hear the battle. Either way, Bhavari would have a small window of time to get the hell away from there.

  Sliding down the side of a twenty-foot, metal shipping container, Bhavari ran through her options. Before she finished her short list, she realized none of her options would include her survival. Bhavari had gone after Matriarch Oriana. Worse, the witch hadn’t been in her suite.

  When she had seen Matriarch Oriana’s consort standing guard in front of a partially closed door, as if he’d been privy to her plan to murder his mate, Bhavari had been too frightened to do anything other than run.

  It wasn’t until she’d landed inside her warehouse office that the full scope of what she’d done had crashed over her. She’d sank into the chair in the corner of the room, weeping. How could she have forgotten about the matriarch’s little girl? True, she had no way of knowing the matriarch’s suite connected to her daughter’s bedroom. But the moment she’d seen an angry, ready-to-fight Cyrus of Steelcross, a ferocious sentry, she had known who was behind the door he shielded.

  Limp hair covered a face ashamed by her own cowardice. She’d escaped before the black werewolf had come for her, leaving the muracos behind to wreak havoc on Matriarch Oriana’s family. Having second guessed the logic of returning to the warehouse, she’d also left those muracos behind. But she hadn’t gone far, though.

  Pulling knees to her chest, Bhavari wept harder. When had nationalism come to mean more to her than morality? Was revenge worth a child’s life? Was she any different from the muracos?

  Bhavari had once thought herself superior to every werewolf, especially white ones. She had treated them long enough and knew them well enough to know that, when it came to their blood-and-magic lust, they had little to no self-control when in the presence of a witch. She, on the other hand, had no genetic excuse she could offer to justify her actions. Bhavari had destroyed a family.

  The tears came harder, faster. Had the residents of Steel Rise contacted Matriarch Oriana yet? Did she know her consort and daughter were dead? Was she looking for Bhavari? Or hell, was Matriarch Kalinda?

  Bhavari rushed to her feet, tripping on her black cloak. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but the hood would cover half of her face, which was enough to slow any facial recognition program she might encounter.

  She flipped the hood up and prepared to jump. If Zev were lucky, he would take his brother's death as a hard lesson of what happened to werewolves who thought themselves equal to that of witches. If he were unlucky, he would return to the warehouse in time to die with the others.

  The white moon would occur in less than two days. Bhavari and Abelone had planned for that day for a year. Now, as the once-anticipated date approached, Bhavari regretted letting her wife talk her into such an audacious and dangerous plot.

  Bhavari called her magic to her. She envisioned where she wanted to go—her home in Copper Vale—the place where she would die surrounded by echoes of her many years of happiness with Abelone. Suicide was a coward’s way out, but she had already proven herself one. Why change direction now?

  Glancing around the shipping container to the warehouses, she smiled, satisfied the muracos would die along with her. With their deaths, and even her failed assassination attempt, Abelone’s message had been sent. Matriarch Oriana would hate them for betraying her, despise Bhavari the most for taking away her family. But the young matriarch would’ve received the message loud and clear.

  Equality was a fable, a fairytale parents told their children as a bedtime story. Children gobbled up those kinds of legends, fascinated by the myth of equality and the lore of equity.

  In a roundabout way, Abelone’s plan had succeeded in pulling Matriarch Oriana away from her fairytale thinking and into the real world.

  Bhavari smiled weakly and jumped home. Or rather, she intended to go home. Where she landed was in her medical office at Steelburgh’s Crimson Guard Headquarters, strapped to her chair, a glowing, red whip coiled from throat to ankles.

  She wasn’t surprised to see who held the other end of the whip, although the shock of having her magic overridden by a stronger extraction spell had left her teeth chattering and her heart racing.

  Bhavari had wanted to die … but on her own terms. She’d intended to concoct a poison that would’ve had her falling asleep and never waking. Nothing bloody or violent. She’d seen too much of both and had had no desire to harm herself beyond what it would take to enter into a peaceful death.

  She stared into eyes crueler and deadlier than any muraco in Steelburgh.

  She opened her mouth to … scream? Plead? Explain? Bhavari didn’t know, and she never would because the glowing whip tightened around her throat, cutting off air and diverting her thoughts but not her gaze.

  Eyes bulging, tears flowing, she watched her executioner watch her die. No satisfied smile, no contemptuous sneer, not even a baring of teeth, revealing her true nature—a wolf in matriarchal clothing.

  The whip tightened.

  And tightened.

  Chapter 15: Crossroads

  April 26, 2243

  Irongarde Realm

  City of Wild Moor

  “That fucking bitch. I’m going to kill her.” Zev rammed his fist into his living room wall. Once, twice, three times. “I’m going to rip her open from throat to stomach with my bare hands.” Then he would shove his claws into her open chest, searching for the heart Marrok stupidly believed loved him. Once he found the worthless organ, he would make Oriana eat it, choking on her lies as she died.

  Zev smashed the wall the way he wanted to beat Oriana to death—one brutal strike after another.

  He didn’t care his knuckles bled or that his brother gaped at him.

  Alarick’s gaze rose from Zev’s bruised and bloody hands that would soon heal, thanks to werewolf’s superior genetics, to his face, before falling to his neck.

  Shit.

  “What this side of the moon have you done?” With an impressive leap from the sofa to directly in front of him, Alarick shoved Zev in the chest. “You dumb asshole. You let one of those underground doctor freaks operate on you. I thought you were talking big shit when you said you were going to Perilune Rille. But your stupid ass actually had your rage disrupter removed. First Marrok and now you. I don’t want to lose both of my brothers.”

  At the mention of his baby brother’s name, Zev punched the wall again, splitting skin and breaking plaster. He didn’t care about either. He would destroy his entire apartment if it would help ease the pain of losing Marrok.

  “I went there for us.”

  “Bullshit. You did it for yourself.” Alarick turned away from Zev, anxiety in every taut line of his back and shoulders. “You aren’t the only one who wants things to change.”

  “Then stand with me. Fight by my side. After knowing what Oriana did to Marrok, the decision should already be made for you.”

  “Like I said, you’re a dumb asshole.” With none of the speed or grace he’d used to jump in Zev’s face, Alarick slumped to the sofa. “Oriana asked you to m
eet us at Dad’s house, but your sorry ass didn’t show up.” Alarick waved in the general direction of Zev’s bare neck. “Now I know why. With your shitty attitude toward Oriana, it’s a good thing you didn’t show.”

  “Why? Because I would’ve killed her right then and there?” His scoff could’ve sliced through iron. “I should’ve gone. It would’ve saved me time hunting her down.”

  “You’ve always been stupid as a bag of moonrocks when it came to Oriana. Your mind is closed to seeing her in any way other than the way you think she is. I was there with Dad and Mom when Oriana arrived. I told you what she told us.”

  “That bitch killed our brother.”

  “She didn’t. What happened to Marrok wasn’t her fault.”

  “Those muracos were there because of her. You think it’s a coincidence she wasn’t at home?”

  “What, you hate Oriana so much you think she would go to those lengths not only to have her consort murdered but to risk the life of her child and heir to Earth Rift?”

  What Zev knew was that witches couldn’t be trusted. The crazy doctor hadn’t clued him in on that part of her plan, and he knew why. She’d waited for him to return home before she sent muracos after Oriana, knowing damn well his brother would be there. Once he finished with Oriana, the crazy bitch doctor would be next.

  “All I’m saying is that shit rolls downhill.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alarick stood, jeans hung low, shirt wrinkled, and a day’s worth of hair on his face, his brother’s normal look for a Saturday except for the red, puffy eyes. “Werewolves need allies in high places if we want the rights we deserve. Oriana is that ally.”