Falling Silver (Rising Bloodlines Book 1)

by Anne Maclachlan

  Selena surveyed the field. Tanis’s caravan had been destroyed with wild energy and a sense of glee by the men who’d been held in check by her thrall bite. Their awareness of what had become of them was sinking in fairly hard, and their pent-up destructive impulses were surging.

  They were ultimately Selena’s responsibility, and she allowed them full expression of their frustrations. Between their pain and Karina’s, tonight’s gathering might take some of the edge away, for a few hours at least.

  The results of the spirited demolition of Tanis’s former caravan were stacks of well-splintered wood. The erstwhile thralls had placed these in the field within a series of creatively designed fire breaks (or “crop circles” as Gwen liked to call them), awaiting the arrival of their sister packs for a grand bonfire and dance.

  It was a rare and unusual treat for the bloodlines to gather like this. In most cases, people didn’t know one another’s affiliations unless they were of the same pack — and of course, a pack was frequently made up of several bloodlines. As a security measure it seemed to work well, particularly for the Chimerae, who had managed to obscure their lineage through the ages. Tonight, they would be, simply, other werewolves.

  Only Old Jake, whom everyone knew, was there to represent the Firewolves, but scores of members from every other bloodline who could make it would be in attendance. Early the next morning would see the Chimerae on their ways, far from the other wolves and the Hunter’s plans. Selena worried that their absence would jeopardize their anonymity to a degree, but the pack had been unanimous about attending this night.

  A joyous shout arose. To everyone’s delight, Lorenzo had arrived at the gathering.

  Gwen introduced him to Karina, who seemed quite taken with him. Her eyes still reddened, she distracted herself with opera talk. “Sorry. Classical music reminds me of my mother,” she explained, as the tears began to form once more.

  Lorenzo, who appeared to be in his early thirties, was full of humor and energy. He was an Earthwolf, he explained to her, and had been for about ten years. “Still new,” he eyes danced, “but what it did for my voice! Ah! Aaaaaaaaaahh!” he sang a note, and everyone applauded.

  “But you were a singer before!” protested Karina.

  “Ah, yes; but now! Now I am a ‘divo’!” He took Karina’s hand and covered it with his own. “You will see, carina mia — you know your name in Italian, ‘darling,’ no? — you will sing tonight like a beautiful bird. Yes, yes, this I promise to you.”

  Karina’s mood was lifted somewhat by the man’s infectious energy. “Lorenzo, how can you get away with not singing in public on the full moon?”

  “Well, you see,” he led Karina back to the gathering group of the bloodlines. “At first, you know, it was devastating. You know, of course,” and he patted her hand. “But then you find ways, and for me, it was, you know, publicity. Good rumors, no?” With that, he bowed slightly, grinned and left her with Gwen. “Oh,” he called over his shoulder, “I have one song just for you tonight, carina mia!”

  Gwen was absolutely smitten, and her old flapper-girl self emerged with a sigh. “Oh, lucky you! Isn’t he just the berries?”

  Quinsey breezed by with some cushions. “Gwen’s in loooooove!” she teased her friend. “Cradle robber!”

  Karina allowed her mood to be uplifted by that of the others. Preparations were completed now, and the sun was low in the sky. Everyone had changed clothes, into the best of what they had, while the aroma of roasting venison added the final touches. There were fiddles, guitars, drums of various sizes, and other portable instruments, and someone had brought a flute.

  Selena requested time to herself to attend to the bonfire. Karina caught some words in Ojibwe, but couldn’t quite understand, though the significance was clear enough.

  Once Selena returned, she seemed much more composed, and handed each of the three remaining men a torch. With the lighting of the huge bonfire, the party began to some lively bluegrass music and a large square dance. Greg was caller, and even Old Jake danced.

  Karina watched Simon talking with a few of the other bloodline wolves. Her grandmother approached her softly. “Our friend has looked after you well,” she began, “and has kept his promises to me.”

  They found some cushions to sit on and continued their conversation as the music changed to a gypsy theme. Something about it brought the tears out again. Lorenzo, catching her eye, raised his hand as the last of the bright music faded, and all was still.

  “For our newest cousin,” Lorenzo bowed to Karina, “one sad song. Only one, and then, again we dance!”

  The stars were just coming into their own as Lorenzo began the haunting aria Una Furtiva Lagrima, and anyone so inclined allowed his or her own tears to fall. The tenor’s voice was indeed the most beautiful anyone there had ever heard, and everyone was tacitly permitted to employ that as an excuse for emotion. Emotions swept through the large group and left a quiet pause before someone started clapping.

  “Come, now!” After a standing ovation, Lorenzo bowed again and invited them all to sing. “You know this one — if you do not know it, sing the la-la-la,” and everyone laughed. “And if you do not know the la-la-la, then you must waltz!”

  With that, he began a rousing Brindisi, as Quinsey joined in followed by two dozen sopranos, basses and everything in between.

  “Try!” Gwen shouted to her as she waltzed by in Carl’s arms,

  “Go on,” coaxed Selena, and Karina could not believe what she was able to produce. She stood, overcome by it, and sang at the top of her lungs, her rich contralto adding to the chorus. Lorenzo swept her up in the waltz, still singing, and the night turned to a magical blend of colors, swirling dancers, and leaping firelight.

  She briefly caught sight of Simon, who had joined her grandmother on the cushions, but pushed that from her mind. Presently, everyone was applauding again and asking for an encore.

  “One moment, one moment,” begged Lorenzo, feigning breathlessness as he deposited Karina back to her place, where she collapsed, exhausted yet invigorated, onto the cushions next to Selena. Simon was nowhere to be seen, and Karina tried not to feel the sudden empty space. “Is this a regular thing?” she asked Selena.

  “Not really,” smiled her grandmother. “But from time to time, if the packs find themselves in the same area for one reason or another, we will reinforce our friendships.”

  “What brings the packs together?”

  “In this case,” Selena began slowly, “it is the upcoming battle with the Hunters.”

  “Where? At my place? At my house??” Karina shot upright. “I can help. Let me help!”

  “Surrounded by enraged werewolves? Karina, you will be human. They would kill you. Think about that for a moment.”

  “I’ll go tonight,” Karina insisted, not hearing the warning. “There are how many, four left, Gwen said? Let me talk some sense into Adam. He will see reason; it’s ridiculous!”

  “I know about this Adam Hunter and why he is insane with revenge. Karina, even with only four of them, they have enough silver and enough hatred to eliminate all of our friends. They will not be dissuaded.”

  “So let me go! I can convince Adam, I know I can.”

  “Karina, you will not. All the Hunters need to do is stand their ground, inside your house. It will be that simple for them. They do not need your advice.” A warning was growing in Selena’s voice.

  “Encore, encore!” shouted the crowd, as each chose a new partner and insisted that Lorenzo try to catch his breath a little faster.

  “But —”

  “Simon, would you stop lurking, please, and come over here?” Selena called over to Simon, who was pacing with increasing intensity about a hundred feet away.

  “Simon,” both women began at the same time.

  “Karina, you’ll stay with your pack.” Simon’s dark side was emerging again. “There is absolutely nothing you can do. Everything Selena has told you is true.”

  “Simon, on
e chance. Please.”

  Simon sat down. “Karina, you’ve had a lot of hard truth to deal with in the past few weeks, and I almost don’t want to tell you this.”

  “Oh, try me.”

  “You know Adam’s mission. You know what drives him. You must, must realize that you are now one of his targets.”

  Karina slumped.

  “In daylight or on a non-crescent night, you can still be hurt badly, and those injuries will be what you live with every day for the rest of your life.”

  Selena nodded in agreement. “There is still so much for you to know, Karina. Adam will not hesitate to use you as bait again. Especially now. You are no longer human to him.”

  The hurt was unbearable. It wasn’t only the inability to help; it was seeing her grandmother with Simon, these two old friends together. It was the echo of parental counsel when she brought home strays or … or even on that night when she and Simon met. Karina looked at Selena and Simon as they watched her take it all in. The pain intensified as the felt her understanding of the bonds among the three of them shift. Simon had never been hers. Ever.

  “I feel so helpless,” was all she could muster.

  It was Gwen and Quinsey who came to her rescue when they swept by and pulled her to her feet and into the next dance. “C’mon,” whispered Gwen as they moved toward the circle, “it’s going to be fine.”

  “It isn’t.”

  Quinsey joined in with, “Karina, things look impossible right now. They might not be what they seem, though. Stick close, and you’ll see.”

  “Feel that?” Gwen grinned. “Feel it? You know we sweep each other into the same mood, don’tcha? Well, just watch!” She swirled away, and Quinsey paused to allow Karina to catch up with that new spoonful of information.

  “Breathe, honey,” Quinsey said quietly. “Feel it now? Come on, you’ll cheer up in no time, I promise.”

  Karina took a few deep breaths.

  “That’s it, that’s right!” Quinsey encouraged her. “You’ll learn to control your feelings, too, but for now, let’s have some fun!”

  By the early hours, the music had covered nearly every genre known to man and wolf. Simon and Karina peeled off by themselves, Karina reassuring him that she would stay put and that she was coming to grips with her new situation.

  “I’m learning to handle a bow and arrow,” she tried to laugh. “And to ride a motorbike. It’s like having sisters. I’ve never had sisters. We even celebrate the moon cycle.”

  Simon’s forced smiles and nods were of little comfort.

  “Once I get back home, I’ll have a whole new dimension to my artwork,” she added, but Simon’s expression had clouded, and he took her hand gently.

  “Rina, you can’t. Not just tomorrow. You can’t go back at all.”

  “Of course I can! Nobody will know. How could they know?”

  The silence was awful.

  Karina stammered, “But my work, all my art, my house … ”

  Simon kept her hand in his. “Selena will have some ideas about all that. For now, she’s taking you with the pack to Santa Fe, until you get used to this.” He didn’t for how long that might be, but he promised this was the start of something new for her and that it wasn’t necessarily the end of the road for her dreams.

  That one hurt, and she wondered if he knew it, but she allowed him to draw her back into the wolf circle.

  The first faint glow of a new day heralded the end of the night’s revelry. “A finale, a finale!” begged the crowd, as they all mingled, hugged and said their parting words to one another.

  “You know, the finale!” Gwen’s voice rose above the others.

  Simon placed his hands on Karina’s shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. “Breathe deep, and remember me.” And with a final, deep look, he stepped back and took her hand again before disappearing into the darkness. Karina stood riveted. This was surely the end of something; at least goodbye for a long while. Had she known that this was the last time in Simon's mind, she might have given up completely.

  Everyone stood in a ring facing the fire, as Lorenzo took the stage, such as it was. “All right, the finale.” He blew a kiss to Gwen and she melted on the spot.

  “‘None shall sleep,’ says this song, and so, we have not slept!” His words were greeted with a cheer. “My dearest friends, my companions, my blood cousins. Nessun Dorma.”

  His voice rose with the early sun’s rays, powerful and full. One by one, each added a voice until the last note, which the Four Bloodlines held longer and more beautifully than was humanly possible: “Vincero.”

  Bless My Soul

  Adam trained his pistol on the disgraced Padre Vicente Marquez, exiled priest of Old Spain, as the latter waved away a cloud of flies that had surrounded his face.

  “Truce,” sneered the werewolf. “Perhaps in spite of all that you have learned of us, Hunter, you are not yet aware that we cannot be killed by a mere bullet? Even in human form.”

  “I know all about it. It would sure slow you all down, though.”

  “Let us stop this posturing,” Marquez motioned Adam to a seat on a nearby log. “We are better fighters than you in either shape, and we will surely kill you. This truth is simple, isn’t it, really? Even to your exhausted, bottle-clouded eyes?”

  Adam’s indignant sniff ended the discussion. Declining the seat and leaning against a tree, he spat violently.

  “Of course,” continued Marquez with a chilling smile, “you have taken your share of my people, too. Especially the new ones; they never can control it, can they? They believe themselves to be unconquerable and they fall to the silver bullet. So tell me, young Hunter, what has driven you to chase me down?”

  Adam aimed his pistol between the scruffy tramp’s eyes and snarled, “You know damn well why. I want desRosiers. Here’s what’s in it for you. My men and I leave you and yours alone and you all ignore us. You have all the fun you want with whatever the hell is coming in the next few days. We’ll dive in only when and if it’s appropriate. Simple truth.” He cocked the hammer. “And I don’t care that this won’t kill you but it will knock you into next week. And it’ll take the edge off a hell of a lot, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Marquez waved a filthy hand. “I believe you, my son.”

  “And knock that off.” Adam waved the firearm. “You lost that privilege three centuries or so ago.”

  “Yes …” mused the werewolf, an odd light burning in his eyes. “And how, again, do you know this?”

  “Same way you know me, I guess.” Adam shifted his weight against the tree, keeping his pistol at the ready.

  “I know that your family has been chasing us for at least a hundred years,” began Marquez.

  “Oh, at least.”

  “I know this because I have now based myself near Austin.”

  “Back near home – near Austin?” Adam challenged him, “Why come back to Austin?”

  Marquez shrugged. “Because Austin is … weird. Enough for us, at any rate. We are lately to be found in the Balcones Canyonlands.”

  “Then it’s more than being drawn to your territory.” Adam stood up fully. “Isn’t it.”

  “We are attached to places.” And sometimes to people. Marquez looked furtively towards his group, whom he could still hear in the woods guarding against the return of Adam’s men. He called out, “Leave them be, leave it all. Go. Find something to do.”

  Two of the shabby creatures exchanged hideous grins as they ran past and left the Firewolf camp at top speed, and Adam caught the words “two or three of them hunting rabbits nearby.”

  Marquez turned his attention back to Adam. “Yes. Perhaps more than that. The impulses, the connections, they cannot always be controlled. But you? I am so very curious as to how you know my name, specifically.”

  You’re joking. Adam stared at him.

  “You really don’t know,” he said aloud. “You have personally tormented my family for centuries and you really don’t know.”
/>
  “I knew of your grandfather. I knew of your great-grandmother, a Huntress too; though I see that information surprises you. But my name …” something dawned in Marquez’s mind.

  Adam watched the wheels turn in the werewolf’s head. Flashes of his own past returned to him – his father calling him into the library to show him the two-hundred-fifty-year-old diary of his ancestor.

  Vertigo took up the conversation. “You were, quite simply, handy. You and your family would never leave the ranch you had built on my territory. But my name … ?” A disquieting thought persisted. During the migration, when they came to build the mission. With the train, there was a particularly sweet, bright convent girl. He could not stop himself. He’d called her over one brightly moonlit night to hear her confession. How softly her skin glowed. The half moon was reflected in her trusting eyes. A very lovely girl, he remembered.

  For his part, Adam’s mind was back in the library once again, facing the rage of his father and father-in-law over the deaths of his wife and son the night before. He barely heard them, dumbstruck with sorrow and fury, resenting each word they shot at him. Adam had failed the Hunter name. He was to swear on the ancient diary. He was to raise a fresh generation of Hunters and track the beasts down while his own grief was powerful enough to drive him. It will never go away. Not ever. Not. Even. Now.

  “You changed your name!” Vertigo stood, choking on his own shock. “You … you are not named Hunter!”

  “Not originally,” Adam’s cool demeanor had returned with him to the present moment. “You’ll do what I ask and I’ll tell you how to do it.”

  “I will, I will!” snarled the werewolf.

  “I know your true name, Marquez, and I’ll use it against you. Now hear mine, you perverted old goat. You remember that girl from Mexico City, the one you mistreated all the way up the Camino Real de los Tejas to the mission? She bore your child before you were bitten, and was cast out for it. Of course, after that you found her again. Went at her again, didn’t you, in wolf form, though.”