The Filthy Claws: Out for Blood (Exiled Book 2)

by J. K. Jones

  “Byakuren,” General Sato says. “We are with you, one hundred percent.”

  Micah nods to him. “Good. Your report?”

  “Fifteen Lycans were spotted in the east and thirty-five in the west. They’re hitting the outskirts at full force, taking the impoverished wolves and turning them before we can catch them. We’ve found small nests of Lycans in the sewers.”

  Murmurs erupt around the room. A fucking nest? This is bad. The sewers used to be a haven back when they were on the run from the Silvercrest Howlers.

  “Byakuren,” another general chimes in. “We’re being hit in all corners. Although you’ve instructed us to aid the Filthy Claws, their rebels grow bolder by the day. There are attacks on the encampment almost hourly. We can’t withstand much more.”

  “Exactly,” General Hasegawa says. He’s a large man with dark hair and a brooding expression. “We’re being hit on all sides. Our resources are depleting, and now you’re saying our greatest advocate, who’s fought alongside all of us, has betrayed us.”

  “What should we do?” a wolf shouts.

  “What if they overrun us?”

  Micah holds up his hand to silence all of them. “Brothers, I hear you. We will not leave you here to fight these Lycans alone. I have a plan.” He nods to Trmon, who opens up a large map and spreads it across the table. “The legends of the Bloodhound Prince are told from generation to generation. If the Bloodhound Prince, Arima Kihei, is looking for a new vessel, that means Randolph is likely to be his next choice. That presents another problem for us. The Bloodhounds are controlled by Oslene. She grants her powers to those she deems her vessels. If there is more than one vessel, that means she is granting her powers to more than one person.”

  General Sato gasps. “You mean two diseases are spreading?”

  Micah nods slowly. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  Ryu frowns as he takes in all the information. That makes sense. The Bloodhound Prince sent Lycans after them. They were evolving into highly functioning beings, while the other Lycans seemed almost mindless. That means each disease that spreads from each vessel is different.

  Shit. That makes things even worse. Can he cure different diseases? He can cure the Lycan disease, but what about variants? This seems more complicated. He’ll need to consult Vuneas. Hopefully, this time she’ll answer his prayer.

  “That’s not all,” Deryn says. “When we encountered the Bloodhound Prince, he made it very clear his mission is to eradicate the Silvercrest Howlers clan. However, upon further investigation, we realized that’s only partially true. He wants to bring back the Age of the Lycans.”

  Fucking hell. Ryu turns away quickly, his breath catching in his throat. No wonder he’s dead set on finding another vessel. If the Bloodhound Prince were to bring back the Age of the Lycans, he could destroy all the wolves and the entire world. There would be nothing left except those creatures that would do his bidding.

  “This new disease isn’t only just a sickness. The victims slowly go insane before their insides are turned, and their mind rots with rabies. Anyone bitten or scratched will succumb within days.”

  “So how do we defeat them?” General Hasegawa asks. “Because all I’m hearing is how royally fucked we all are.”

  “There is only one way,” Micah says. He gestures Ryu forward. “Come.”

  All heads swing to him.

  Ryu stands there awkwardly, then strides over to Micah. “You will answer honestly and truthfully.”

  Ryu searches his eyes. “Yes, Alpha.”

  “How many times have you been bitten or scratched by a Lycan?”

  Honestly, he’s lost count. “Many times.”

  “Did the infection spread?”

  “No, Alpha.”

  “Are you immune?”

  Micah knows he is. “Yes, Alpha.”

  “You are a Bloodhound.”

  That isn’t a question, but Ryu nods anyway.

  “Thank you.” Micah looks back at all the other wolves. “You may think I’m biased, but I’m willing to test my theory. The only way to counteract the curse of the Bloodhound is to drink the blood of another Bloodhound. Ryu is the cure to the Lycan disease. He holds the cure in his hands and his sword. If I take his blood, I’m positive no harm will come to me.”

  “Madness,” General Hasegawa snarls. “You want us to indulge in blood magic? To reverse a curse, he probably unleashed with his sinful relationship with Kenyon?”

  Micah bares his teeth. “Speak about my Second again, and I’ll have your tongue.”

  General Hasegawa shrinks away, suitably chastised. “I apologize, Byakuren. I spoke out of turn.”

  “Forgive me,” General Sato says. “But what if it doesn’t work? If you are infected, who will lead us? This could go horribly wrong.”

  Micah remains silent, pinning them with a sober gaze. He stands to his full height, and his words ring loud and true. “I’ve fought in battle with all of you. I know your hearts. Trust me as your Alpha, your Byakuren. I will bring you all the victory. It isn’t only my life at risk. It’s that of your mothers, fathers, sisters, uncles, and grandfathers. Everyone we love and adore at the Silvercrest Howlers is in danger.”

  Chapter 16

  Ryu is revolted. Utterly and completely sick to his core. Micah is going to test this theory? This theory that might get him killed and turned into those disgusting, vicious creatures? His stomach roils. He’s dizzy with anguish. How long has he had these plans? Why didn’t they talk about it? Micah can be stubborn at times, but shouldn’t Ryu have been included in this? It’s damn near suicide. Who knows if Ryu’s blood is potent enough? What if it isn’t that potent and the disease spreads?

  This is a mistake.

  The room breaks out in rapid whispers. Ryu is paralyzed, like all this is happening to someone else. Dear Gods, just a minute ago, they were arguing about fucking. Now Micah is ready to commit suicide to prove a point?

  “Wait.”

  “Trust me,” Micah says seriously. “Bring him in.”

  Trmon opens the door, and a large dead Lycan on a slab is wheeled in. It looks disgustingly malformed. Its hind legs are severed, while its jaw is cracked in two. Ryu panics and grabs Micah’s hand to stop him. “Wait.”

  “You have the strength. You can cure me. I know you can.” Micah gazes at him. “Trust me.”

  “But—” Micah moves away and toward the dead creature. Shit. This can still go wrong. How do they know this Lycan doesn’t have the variant disease? What happens if Micah cuts himself and this disease is more potent than the other ones? He could die instantly. Ryu can’t take it; bile rises in his throat.

  “A demonstration,” Micah says. Trmon hands him a knife, and he cuts his forearm. The wound slices open, and his blood trails out. “Ryu.” Trmon grabs his arm, which he cut too. “We must act quickly before our healing takes over.”

  Micah walks over to the dead Lycan and places his bleeding arm near its teeth. “I’ll further open the wound to make sure the disease is in my blood.” He hooks his arm under the creature’s teeth and drags it across his skin.

  The wolves in the room flinch, all of them recoiling from the sight. “See. Now I’m infected,” Micah says breathlessly. “Ryu.”

  He comes forward, staring at Micah helplessly. “Put your bleeding arm over the wound.” Ryu does so quickly, meshing their skins together.

  The room goes deathly silent.

  The veins on Micah’s skin turn black, spreading like cancer up his arm. The wound remains the same. His blood is still seeping out, but nothing is happening. Ryu looks back at Micah, his heart pumping in his chest. Micah remains calm; however, his skin pulsates as it strains to fight the disease.

  “It’s not happening,” Ryu says hysterically. “Nothing is happening.”

  “Wait.”

  “Micah.” Ryu widens his eyes in horror as the black veins spread to his neck. Shit. He needs to stop this now. If this goes on any longer, Micah will surely be dead.<
br />
  “Wait.”

  He can’t. Ryu gets ready to unleash the cure but stops when the black veins slowly fade. The blackness withdraws as if it’s slowly being pulled out of Micah’s body. The disease is spat out, and the wound closes as if nothing ever happened. Ryu stares at Micah’s arm, which is covered with black sludge, but the rest of it looks completely fine. Trmon grabs a medicinal flask and, using gloves, scoops the disease inside and locks it away for good.

  “Fuck,” General Hasegawa says. “I think my soul just left my body.” He gives a boisterous laugh. “Damn, you sure know how the hell to make a point.”

  The wolves clap loudly. They start speaking at once, laughing and cheering. There’s a chance of a cure, one that will keep them all from being killed by the Lycans and win the war against Randolph.

  Ryu drops Micah’s hand.

  “Trust me,” Micah says to the crowd. “We will defeat this enemy once and for all.” Ryu dashes out of the room.

  -

  Ryu flies through the backdoor.

  He makes it to one of the vacant balconies, his heart thundering in his ears. What the hell just happened? Ryu is disgusted with himself. Why did Micah do that? Is it to prove a point? To make Ryu feel things he doesn’t want to feel? Oh god. He’s going to die. If Micah becomes infected again, Ryu might actually go crazy. Ryu is scared. Fucking terrified of losing Micah.

  As hard as he tries to keep the fear at bay, it’s pointless.

  He pants, his hands trembling. Ryu is transported back in time, to when he was sixteen and thought Micah hung the moon. It’s enough to make his skin crawl with hatred and longing. Gods, he wishes things were different. Ryu can no longer ignore the yearning in his heart. The call of the Māku is like an anchor around his neck. He can’t see anything else; he can’t feel anything else. All he wants is Micah.

  Too much is happening. It’s overwhelming to think about. How can he guard his heart with Micah fucking with his emotions twenty-four seven? How can he think? Fear grips him as the nightmares of Arima Kihei shredding everyone he loves to pieces pop into his head. Ryu grips the railing, his knuckles turning white as he tries to calm down. How can he defeat the Bloodhound Prince if his focus is constantly being divided?

  “I’m sorry. It was the only way.”

  Sighing loudly, Ryu looks up at the sky, bracing himself against the railing. “Sounds like bullshit.”

  “You wouldn’t have been on board with it otherwise.”

  “So you planned and schemed to keep me out of the loop?” Ryu turns to look at Micah.

  “No…” Micah walks toward him calmly. “I told you before. You never stayed during the meetings.”

  “So you want me to be your Second, and you pull shit like this?”

  “No, that isn’t the case.”

  Ryu pinches the bridge of his nose. “Leave me alone. I can’t take this anymore. I need to think.”

  “Ryu—”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Micah sighs deeply, but he doesn’t say anything more and walks away. Ryu stays outside for a long time, the breeze cool against his warm cheeks. He doesn’t know what to feel or what he’s doing. All he knows that things have reached a whole new level of complication.

  He can only pray to the gods that things will work themselves out.

  Chapter 17

  The Blackfang Hounds

  Yokosuka, ’10

  Three years ago…

  “Are you thinking about him again?” Ryu startles. Fear grips his heart as Haru emerges from the shadows. He wears a long silk robe, its dark blue shimmering in the moonlight. Ryu blows the smoke away, fanning the tendrils to avoid getting the stench on his clothing.

  “You scared me.” Ryu inches back in his seat on the balcony and takes in the brilliant twinkles of the Blackfang Hounds city lights, relishing in the cool night air. It’s peaceful up here under the velvet midnight sky, serene even, the buzzing below a lyrical sound. He offers Haru a small smile.

  “I thought you quit.” Haru takes the cigarette from Ryu and puts it out on the concrete.

  “Hey. I didn’t say I quit…I said I was going to quit.”

  “Same difference,” Haru mumbles and sits down beside him. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Ryu stares out in the distance. His white robe falls off his shoulders, exposing his collarbone. “Thinking.”

  “About him?”

  Ryu sighs. Why does it matter? Sometimes it’s easier not to put a voice to it. So what if he’s thinking about Micah? He thinks about him all the time. Even after a few years of living with Haru, Ryu’s mind still goes back to that day. He recalls Micah turning his back on him, the anger of the council, and every Silvercrest Howler. If he closes his eyes, he can feel the burning sensation radiating from his high, the constant, everlasting ache of the Māku pulsating in his core. An iron fist clamps onto his skin as if claws dig deep, trying to tear apart his flesh. How can he not think of Micah? His eyes pierce him, and his smile cripples him. Every memory is like a knife in his chest.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Ryu is resigned to his fate. He’ll never see Micah McCorbyn again.

  “Your secrets are always safe with me.” Haru smirks at him. “I never listen when you tell them anyway.”

  Ryu rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

  Haru smiles. “Too bad fucking can’t make you lose your memories.”

  “A real shame.” Ryu nudges his leg.

  “If it makes you feel better, you’re doing a good job. You’re a natural thief, it seems. The information you’ve gathered on the councilmen is invaluable at this point.”

  Ryu hums, thinking back to where he started and to where he’s now. Stealing from the council isn’t easy. They constantly have guards, traps in their offices, or high-tech security. Ryu has become a master at breaking and entering, taking documents, duplicating them, and putting them right back. He never asks Haru what he does with the information, but sooner or later, those same councilmen will end up in prison.

  “I have something for you.” Haru stands and walks toward the door.

  “Don’t tell me. You tried cooking again, didn’t you?”

  “Funny. Are you coming or what?”

  Ryu rises to his feet and pulls the robe over his shoulders. He follows Haru down the corridor, nodding to a few wolves he knows, and enters the armory. Haru keeps a vast collection of swords in here, at least one from every century. His eyes are drawn to the katanas in a vast array of colors and sizes, ranging from different feudal eras to the Edo period.

  “I never asked you.” Ryu looks around the room. “Why do you have so many swords?”

  Haru shrugs, riffling through a drawer near the wall. “I like to collect beautiful things… yourself included.”

  “It just seems excessive.”

  “Sword and mind must be united. Technique by itself is insufficient, and spirit alone isn’t enough.”

  Ryu smiles. “That’s from Yamada Jirokichi.”

  “Good, but all this will fade, and without doing the work we are doing now, the Blackfang Hounds will cease to exists.”

  Ryu nods wearily. He knows the Blackfang Hounds are on the brink of a civil war. The tension between the rich and poor is growing every day.

  “We all dream of seeing our clans shine like a pearl,” Haru continues. “I, too, long to see the Blackfang Hounds restored to their former glory, and I would do anything to ensure that victory.”

  “Like having me steal documents from the councilmen?”

  Haru turns around slowly and gazes at him. “Don’t you wish to see the Filthy Claws rid of poverty?”

  Ryu shrugs. He’s too young to remember what the clan was like during their times of wealth.

  “It’s better you don’t know anyway… less of a liability to you in the future.” Haru turns back to the drawer. “Here.” Haru pulls a katana from its sheath. The sword has an exact tip shape. The blade is long and curved, single-edged with a circular gu
ard and a long grip to accommodate two hands. It is magnificently crafted. Ryu stares at it in awe. The black handle is artistically interwoven with silk, as tradition dictates. Haru holds it delicately.

  “Wow.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Haru holds it up to the light. “I had it designed.”

  “Really?” Ryu’s never seen a weapon so beautiful. Not even Sensei Musashi had a katana like this. “It looks great.”

  Haru regards him closely. “I’ve seen you train in the courtyard… You’ve even sparred against me and my guards a couple of times. You’ve got skill.”

  Ryu’s smile slowly fades. “Yeah…but that doesn’t mean anything…even after all these years, I’m still your bed warmer.”

  He practices now mainly for recreational purposes and nothing more. He may have skills, but it’s been several years, and Haru never gave him a position in his regiment, never even considered that he would be good enough to join.

  “We both know you don’t plan to stay here. The minute your Alpha comes back, you’ll be gone. The only way out of the Blackfang Hounds regiment is death. It isn’t a life I want for you…it’s not even one I want for myself.”

  “But stealing and whoring is better?”

  Haru is quiet for a long time, holding the sword as if it is the most precious thing in the world. “You have a lot of potential, Ryu…I didn’t want to see it wasted following some general’s mindless orders, raging pointless wars, or fighting against the common wolves. You aren’t built for that. At least this way you are free. If one day I come home and you aren’t here, I’ll understand. I’ve been more lenient with you over the years. People talk. Everyone with two eyes can see that I…hold you in higher regard than anyone else. I like to think we’re friends, at the very least.”

  “Friends?” Ryu laughs. “Now aren’t we being forward?”