Hood and the Highwaymen

by TJ Nichols

  He slipped past the soothsayer’s shop—he knew Lyle liked to visit her—then on to the tavern where the traveler would most likely be staying. If he wasn’t, Jardin was going to have to start sniffing in barns, which would take far longer than he wanted. But he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, only that he needed to do more than watch and wait for trouble to get the first strike in. Should he find the man and study him from the dark, get a good sniff, or shift and rummage through his belongings to find out who he was?

  He slowed as he neared the tavern. The reek of cheap ale and piss and vomit clouded the unfenced back yard. More than a few drunks had wandered into the woods and passed out under a tree. Few had ever made it deep enough to cause trouble, but there were always wolves patrolling to keep people out. Which made discovering the hood in the ruins even more disturbing. How had he snuck through?

  Something moved in the oily light spilling out the back door.

  A man sat on the step. The cup in his hand steamed, and his hair gleamed in the light. Not a drunkard and not a local. There was no one with that pale shade of hair here.

  Jardin edged closer. His scent wasn’t familiar, but he’d smelled him on Lyle, so this must be the traveler. He stopped like a hunted rabbit when the man glanced up. The man sipped his drink casually, but his gaze was sharp, as though he knew the dark too well. His free hand flitted to his hip, a tell that he was used to reaching for a weapon. He didn’t grab the gleaming pommel of the waiting sword.

  He risked getting closer. Poor travelers only had swords for two reasons—one was for defense, and they were usually poorly made. A fancy sword meant trouble. Either he’d killed to claim it, or he wasn’t poor or a traveler. He could be a sword for hire; perhaps he was hoping to ride with the rich and protect them from the likes of the highwaymen.

  Jardin stepped closer again. This time the man didn’t look down at his cup. He stayed alert. The man’s heartbeat quickened as he searched the shadows. The noise echoed in Jardin’s ears, mimicking his pulse.

  The man’s hand stayed by his hip, close to his sword. It was the cup of hot tea that Jardin was more worried about—that would temporarily blind him and make him easy to stick with the sword.

  While the pommel didn’t gleam with jewels—no practical man would carry something so glittery—the metal had an elaborate design, and the scabbard was also finely made. The distinctive sweetness of honing oil hung around him like he’d recently cleaned his sword, another reason to be watchful. A swordsman took care of his sword far more than a traveler. The sword didn’t match the man’s clothing. The discrepancy set Jardin’s teeth on edge.

  The man’s gaze swiveled and settled on Jardin as though he could see him clearly. He lifted the cup to his lips and drank.

  For several heartbeats Jardin didn’t move, but curiosity overcame him. Around the man’s wrist was a braid of hair. It had been hidden by the cuff of his shirt but now poked out.

  Beneath the scent of oil and tea, there was werewolf.

  Why was this man wearing the token of a werewolf?

  Jardin wanted to step back and flee to the woods. This man could be a wolf hunter. There were old tales of men who traveled and collect the pelts of werewolves to sell to soothsayers. But they no longer existed. Everyone thought the werewolves were gone, didn’t they?

  Aubrey stared at the wolf. It stared at him with blue eyes as if waiting for something. He moved his hand, so his shirt cuff hid the hair bracelet. Would it really keep him safe from wolves, or had it drawn this wolf to him?

  The wolf took a step closer.

  “What is it you want?” Aubrey figured he still had enough time to scramble inside and shut the door if it attacked.

  The wolf tilted its head considering the question…like it understood.

  Aubrey shivered and blamed the cold night air. He should go in. He’d sat out here to clear his head and sharpen his blade. Both were now done.

  The wolf didn’t leave. It stood there, watching and waiting.

  “Are you one of those werewolves I keep hearing about?” Aubrey got to his feet, then laughed. “No, I guess not. What a pity. The king would’ve loved me to find one.”

  The wolf snarled, and Aubrey shifted his hand to his sword.

  For a moment neither of them moved. The wolf’s gaze seemed to swallow him whole, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

  “Be gone, wolf. There’s no scraps for you tonight.” That was why it was here. Food. The soothsayer’s magic hadn’t drawn it to him. The facts made sense. Except the wolf didn’t behave like a wolf.

  It opened its mouth and yipped a warning before it stepped backward three paces and turned to run into the shadows.

  Aubrey stood for a moment longer on the step, not sure if the wolf had been real or a creature conjured from too much ale and his own imagination.

  His hand shook as he went upstairs to his room. The door had no lock, but he shoved his bag against it to act as a weight and a warning. He splashed his face with water from the jug then dried his skin. Something caught his eye and he glanced out the window. There in the yard behind the tavern was the wolf, right where it had been sitting before.

  The wolf looked up at him and opened its mouth as though grinning.

  Aubrey closed the shutters.

  This was too weird. It was a tame wolf, used to people and scraps. That was all.

  He stripped off his clothes, finding a hundred reasons why the wolf was just a wolf and nothing more. Werewolves were a tale. But as he lay in bed in his nightshirt, his mind wouldn’t settle.

  What if it was a werewolf?

  Had a werewolf killed the hoods?

  If so, why?

  He must have fallen asleep, as when he woke the shutters were open. He lay still in the dark for a moment, the only light a slice of silver moonlight that cut across the foot of his bed. The noise from the tavern drifted up, but his heartbeat was louder. He mustn’t have secured the shutter latch properly. The shutter banging open must have woken him. He untangled himself from the sheets and got up to close it, but something slammed into him, knocking him onto the bed.

  A man leaned over him, pressing him into the straw-filled mattress. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  Aubrey stared up at him. His face was all angles and bright-blue eyes. All words died on Aubrey’s tongue.

  The man smiled, his teeth too pointed.

  It was then Aubrey realized the man was naked and there was only the thin layer of his nightshirt between them. His body chose that moment to acknowledge the closeness.

  “I don’t even know who you are.” Aubrey struggled, trying to throw the man off, which only brought their hips into contact.

  Heat raced over his skin.

  The man laughed. He grabbed Aubrey’s wrist and brought it to his mouth, then he bit through the bracelet made of braided wolf fur.

  “That’s mine.” Aubrey tugged his hand free, but the bracelet was gone.

  The man rocked back, the braid dangling from his mouth. He pulled it out. “I don’t think so, Hood.”

  Aubrey twisted his hips, throwing the man off. The man landed on his feet on the floor. Aubrey sat up and reached for his sword, but the man was faster, slapping it out of Aubrey’s hand.

  They faced off, the moonlight cutting across the man’s lean body. The sword was on the floor half under the bed. The things that had been in his bag were strewn across the floor, his red hood like a puddle of dark blood.

  The man held the fur bracelet. Why did he care about it so much?

  Aubrey stared at the man, his eyes bright blue like the wolf’s. The words tumbled from his tongue before he could stop them. “You’re the wolf.”

  “And you’re smarter than you seem.”

  Aubrey’s heart hammered his ribs. He didn’t feel very smart right now. He should be catching the wolf for the king, shouldn’t he?

  What had the soothsayer told him? She’d given him the bracelet for a reason. “I need the bracelet.
”

  “You don’t deserve it. What have you done for the wolves?”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  The man stepped back as though hit. “I need you to stay away and mind your own business.”

  “I can’t do that. Too many have died.” He reached his foot out to sweep the sword closer.

  The man put his foot out, too, and once again they were too close. “We don’t need your help.”

  “But you know who killed the hoods?”

  The man’s mouth opened, but it was a moment before he replied. “No. But it wasn’t us.”

  “Us…there’s more than just you?”

  The man shoved him, and Aubrey lost his balance—the man was stronger than he looked. Those few heartbeats were enough for the man to leap out the window. Aubrey rushed over, but all he saw was a wolf racing across the yard and vanishing into the shadows.

  Somewhere in Nightlark woods wolves started to howl.

  Werewolves were not tales from the past or mythical beings. They were real.

  And they knew he was a hood.

  Chapter 4

  Lyle woke to the soft closing of the front door. There was no predawn light creeping in around the curtains, so Jardin wasn’t home that late. Lyle sat up, sleep falling away. “And?”

  Jardin slid into bed next to him. He dropped something on the blanket, but it was too dark for Lyle to see what it was. He ran his hand over the sheets trying to find it.

  “He had this.” Jardin picked up the thing and placed it in Lyle’s hand.

  Lyle held it up so he could see it better. It appeared to be a stringy piece of hair. “What is it?”

  Jardin moved closer, burrowing into the warm spot Lyle had created in the bed. Jardin’s skin was cold, and Lyle wanted to pull away. Jardin shouldn’t have gone to town to spy on the visitor. Worse, Jardin hadn’t just spied. “You took this from him?”

  “I had to.” Jardin stifled a yawn and lay down. He dragged Lyle down with him.

  Lyle didn’t resist as Jardin wrapped him in a cold embrace. “What did you do?”

  He didn’t want to be burying another body. There’d be more bodies than living people in the forest if this kept up. He shivered, not wanting unsettled ghosts to be haunting him.

  “I watched him at the tavern and I saw that on his wrist. You didn’t mention his fancy sword.”

  “I didn’t notice it.”

  “He’s not who he says he is. I slipped into his room.” Jardin was silent for several heartbeats.

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Yes! For the moment.” Jardin propped himself up on one elbow. “I found a red hood in his bag.”

  There were only two reasons that a man had a red hood. He was either a hood, or he’d killed one and had kept some mementos—like the sword and hood. If the man was the hood the soothsayer had predicted, Lyle needed to help him. “And you took this from him while he slept?”

  “That’s what I planned.” Jardin moved over the top of Lyle, his body warm now and sleep far away. He toyed with the end of braid. “But he woke. I had to bite it off.” He nipped at Lyle’s throat.

  “Why is it so important?”

  “It has to be kept hidden.”

  “Why?”

  Jardin kissed him, but the trick to silence him didn’t work this time. Lyle turned his head away, but that didn’t stop the heat from sliding through his blood. Pressed together like this, his body responded, awake and hungry for his lover’s touch.

  “It has magic.”

  Jardin kissed the hollow of Lyle’s throat and rocked his hips against Lyle’s in a way that was most distracting. The hot length of his shaft tempted him to forget this conversation. Jardin clearly didn’t want to talk about what had happened and what he’d stolen, but he wasn’t going to get out of it that easily. Lyle rolled, pushing Jardin onto his back.

  Jardin laughed. “You want to be on top this time?”

  Lyle pinned Jardin’s hands, knowing that if Jardin wanted to be free, he wouldn’t be able to hold him. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can, but you choose not to.”

  “You aren’t a wolf.”

  Lyle stared at him. There were too many secrets between them, and all of them were to do with wolves. “You either trust me or you don’t.”

  Jardin didn’t answer.

  Lyle grabbed the blanket and got off the bed, leaving Jardin lying there naked and alone. He sat in front of the fireplace, wrapped in the blanket, and brought the coals back to life with a few pokes, then added some kindling. He heard Jardin get up but didn’t look over as Jardin crept closer.

  “Don’t be like this.”

  Lyle stared at the flames. “I’m not here just to keep house while you run around keeping your wolfy secrets. What else do you keep secret?”

  Jardin squatted next to him. “Nothing…only the wolf things.”

  “This is a wolf thing.” He ran his fingers over the string. “It’s made of wolf fur.” Not hair. His fingertips tingled. Was he feeling magic or was it his imagination? “Magic?”

  “Let me have some blanket and I’ll tell, but if you breathe a word, there will be trouble. We’ll get kicked out of the pack.”

  “Aren’t we planning on leaving anyway?” That was the plan. Steal enough coins to go to a town or city and have a proper life.

  “Yes.” But Jardin didn’t sound as sure as he usually did when he talked about leaving the pack and escaping the rules.

  Lyle snapped open the blanket, and Jardin moved in close. It was less than comfortable on the floor, but Lyle didn’t trust himself not to surrender to Jardin’s touch if they were in bed.

  Jardin fed the crackling fire, back hunched as though he was nursing a wound. “It used to be that human guardians of the wolves would be gifted tokens like that. It was stopped when we were hunted. Someone decided humans shouldn’t share our magic.”

  “Share?” Would wearing this turn him into a wolf? Would he be able to run the forest with Jardin? He wanted to tie the string around his wrist and test the magic.

  “The magic would make you stronger and faster. You’d heal faster, too. That one is old. I don’t know who made it, but the magic is still there. And a hood had it. Don’t you see what that means?”

  “That he knows about the wolves?”

  “Exactly. He’s here to investigate the other dead hoods.”

  “And? Once it’s solved, the danger is over. We knew when the second body was found that another would come. A third dead hood was always going to bring a fourth. We need to help him.” He had to, or there would be more trouble. And he only had a month.

  He didn’t want the king’s army riding into town. Wolves would die, the forest folk would be forced out. While he and Jardin wanted to leave, everyone else was content living there. And even if they weren’t happy, they didn’t talk about leaving. Maybe, like him, they kept their mouths closed and their plans secret.

  The soothsayer had left the village…and now she wanted to come back. Coming back was hard because leaving was seen as betrayal.

  Jardin shook his head. “We shouldn’t do anything.”

  “We’re up to our neck already. Everyone thinks it’s the highwaymen who brought the hoods here. Was it? Did you let me believe it was our fault?”

  Jardin grimaced. “I don’t know why the first hood came or why he was in our ruins. But it’s clear the hoods know about the ruins and they know about us. How long until they once again become wolf hunters, and this time they finish the job?”

  The town had suddenly come alive. There were stalls and more people than Aubrey thought lived there. Maybe some of the people were forest folk come to town for the day. For sale at the stalls were finely made leather shoes and bags. Fresh produce and pies. Liquor and herbal remedies. Trinkets and charms.

  Aubrey walked by the tables, looking not at the wares but at the people. Was he hoping to see the thief again? In daylight, his b
elief in werewolves seemed rather foolish, and yet…

  His wrist was bare. The charm given to him by the soothsayer had been stolen, and if that wasn’t bad luck waiting to happen, he wasn’t sure what was. He bought some apple-stuffed bread and sat to eat, pondering what to do next and happy to watch and see where the friction was in town. He hadn’t even wanted the charm, but if someone, a werewolf, was willing to steal it, then it must be important.

  He had no idea what was going on there, only that it was bigger than three dead hoods. And now the werewolf knew he was a hood. Was it time to don his hood and let them all see him for what he was? Or would that be encouraging the good folk of Nightlark to take a stab? He glanced over his shoulder as though expecting an attack. It was only as he was turning that he saw a rather well-dressed man, talking to another rather well-dressed man. Neither seemed to belong here.

  If he were wearing in his city clothes, he’d be just as out of place.

  He was about to get up and wander past the two men to listen to what they were saying when Lyle sat next to him. Lyle was not last night’s thief. His teeth were unpointed, his face less sharp, and his shoulders broader. Nothing about him said predator. Aubrey doubted that Lyle was interested beyond chatting, which was a shame.

  Lyle smiled as though they were friends. “Spying on the mayor?”

  “Just enjoying the sun.” Aubrey stretched out his legs and pretended that he had no place he’d rather be. Talking to Lyle again wasn’t a bad thing, he was attractive, and there was always a smile on his lips. In a town like this secrets never stayed that way, and he didn’t want to be revealing those inclinations. It was hard enough to hide them in the city where secrets were kept for a price and a promise.

  The smile slid from Lyle’s mouth. “You need to understand two things,” Lyle said, quickly and firmly. “The soothsayer told me to help you or more bad luck would fall on the forest folk of Nightlark, but I can’t betray the wolves.”