by L. L. Raand
Chapter Twelve
Zora led her soldiers along the winding deer trail toward the high bluff above the creek. From that vantage point, she would be able to see the most likely positions where the Timberwolves lay in wait for her and her wolves to walk into their trap. She chuffed. As if they were so naïve. They were wolves, hunters, and among the largest predators in the forest, but not so arrogant or inexperienced that they would allow themselves to be seduced into a trap.
She was halfway up the bluff when she scented Trent and the other Timberwolves. Four—no, six wolves, close but rapidly scattering into the forest. She slowed, scented again, and Trent’s power stirred her wolf. A pulse of danger followed the wash of heat that stirred her as only Trent’s essence could do. Something threatened Trent’s wolf.
Zora reached out to her soldiers. Spread out, form a line, be ready for an attack.
She couldn’t risk her small force being surrounded, although separating them might be just as risky. Still, if faced with an overpowering enemy, some of them would escape to warn the others.
Pressing low to the ground, stalking forward through the thinning scrub, she sent a warning through the Pack bonds to the rest of her Snowcrest wolves, alerting them to danger and calling her lieutenants for reinforcements. Well out ahead of her own small troop, she bounded the final yards to the bluff, homing in on Trent’s scent. Trent was close, her battle lust a potent tang on Zora’s tongue, emboldening her wolf with the joy of the hunt. Zora covered the ground with long bounding strides, heart pounding, blood simmering, her only goal to reach Trent. To stand beside her and fight whatever danger she faced.
Soaring up and over the rocky ledge, she landed on a barren shelf of rock in the midst of a nightmare. Trent battled half a dozen of the creatures Zora had seen before, wolves but not wolves, their skeletons twisted and deformed, their elongated muzzles dripping saliva from fangs too long to be contained within their muzzles, eyes a fiery red, their coats mangy patches of fur interspersed with leathery skin, as if their pelts had been burned away. At the center of the ring of reanimated wolves, Trent charged and snapped, spinning with power and grace to drive back first one, then another of the creatures that lunged at her, attempting to clamp their jaws on her limbs or her neck. Blood darkened Trent’s pelt in a dozen places from bites and tears, but she fought with relentless fury.
Zora’s wolf growled and vaulted over the nearest creature, landing at Trent’s side.
Go back, Trent demanded.
On your left, Zora warned, ignoring the foolish wolf. As if she would leave her to fight alone. Trent spun away, and Zora drove beneath the snapping jaws of the nearest creature. Catching its throat in her jaws, she clamped down hard and twisted her shoulders with a sharp snap, tearing out its throat and severing its spine. The head lolled, and the creature collapsed, oily smoke seeping out of its disintegrating body. Nothing with any spark of life would do that.
A second creature joined the first as Trent tore into its skull.
Now they were two against four. Zora howled, wild with unbridled power.
The creatures were twice the size of even an Alpha Were, but their battle prowess was fragmented and fractured. Had they fought as a Pack, Trent and Zora might’ve been overcome, but these creatures had no Pack sense, perhaps had no free will.
Trent took down another, and Zora dispatched a fourth. One-on-one now, and in the distance, Zora felt her Pack nearing. She circled the last creature, dashing in to pull it away from Trent. Above her, lightning flashed and the sky tore open.
A beast the size and distorted shape of a bull moose dropped to the ground a few feet in front of her. What would have been a rack of antlers appeared like rows of gleaming, two-foot long silver-tipped spikes. A wound from one of those might kill even an Alpha Were. The maw pulled back to expose double rows of canines, longer than her forelimbs, and talons tipped the cloven feet at the end of limbs resembling human legs. The massive chest heaved, and the beast bellowed a sound like demented thunder, lowered its head, and charged. Zora twisted, and a silver spike glanced across her shoulder, opening her flesh. The silver burned, her muscle froze, and she stumbled. Ignoring the pain, she caught her balance and swirled to face the beast again as it rammed forward, head down, lethal spikes aimed at her chest.
Trent streaked in from Zora’s side, slammed into the beast, and latched onto its throat. Blood, black and thick as pitch, poured from the wound. With a roaring bellow, the beast vaulted skyward and, in an instant, was swallowed by the darkness that closed as if a giant eye had winked shut.
Three Timberwolves raced into the clearing, and a dozen Snowcrest soldiers cleared the bluff. Within an instant, the two remaining creatures were torn asunder. Zora searched frantically for Trent’s scent, for the connection that had settled in her chest the moment she’d seen her, and that she could no longer find.
With a howl, she threw back her head and raged.
* * *
Trent landed on her back, the weight of the beast pinning her to an uneven stony surface. The scent of blood and rot choked her. She thrashed, kicking and twisting until she broke free. Backing away on weakened limbs from the feebly writhing creature, she panted as pain cut through the battle lust. Shaking off the torpor that threatened to immobilize her, she spun about in search of more enemy. She was alone except for the thing that had dragged her to this place.
Some kind of cave, dim and dank and smelling of death. Not far away, a glimmer of light called to her. The beast thrashed weakly, blood, or something that might’ve been blood had it been alive, seeping from its neck, black and odorous. Leaving it to whatever end existed after death, Trent trotted cautiously toward the light and emerged on a ledge beneath a hazy greenish sky. Moss the color of orange blossoms covered the hillside below her. She sniffed, scented the waning signature of the creatures she’d fought in the clearing. If those creatures had a way into her world from this, she needed to find it and make her way home.
Zora was somewhere beyond the veil, and Trent’s imperative was to find her. Nothing else mattered. Stepping onto the strange moss, she padded downhill, searching whatever cover she could find behind shining obsidian boulders and short clumps of brush that tugged at her pelt as she passed. The forest, or what she assumed was one, loomed ahead, the trees twining their branches together in a filigree pattern of yellows and white, like an impenetrable latticework, dense and ominous. Following the lingering scent of death, Trent slipped into the shadows underneath the arching branches and padded on.
Chapter Thirteen
“Did you invite us here to drive these intruders from Faerie?” Torren asked.
“You doubt my ability to protect my realm, Hunt Master?”
“I would never underestimate your power, my Queen,” Torren replied, neatly sidestepping the question, Sylvan thought.
Cecilia sent Torren a chiding smile, clearly recognizing the dissembling reply. “If I knew their location, I would do that myself.” She paused as if listening to a distant melody, her gaze darkening like storm clouds boiling down a mountainside, threatening to drown anything in their paths. “Forces are gathering, testing our will. Some foreign magic hides the intruders from our sight.”
“What is it you need of us then?” Sylvan said.
“I need your power,” Cecilia said, her voice deepening, blinding white light radiating from her glowing form and encompassing them in a shimmering cloud. “Open to me that I might see.”
Sylvan shuddered as electricity coursed over her skin, speared beneath her flesh and bone, and struck at her wolf deep inside. A seductive heat built in her loins, forcing the blood in her sex to pulse and pound. She snarled and drew on her ties to Drake, to her Pack, to counter Cecilia’s assault. An answering surge of strength and magic flowed into her depths, and she grew taller, gritting her teeth as her bones and body shifted into her half-form. Massive chest heaving, her claws erupted from her forelimbs, her face and jaws elongated into her lethal warrior shape. She towered abov
e the Faerie Queen. “Do not attempt to steal what is not yours.”
Beside her, Torren laughed, her body incandescent, a circle of power enclosing and shielding her from Cecilia’s reach. “My Queen, you have a strange way of welcoming those you would want as allies.”
The shimmering cloud of pulsating force surrounding Cecilia dissipated, and she resumed her usual shape with a playful smile. “You’ve both grown in power.”
Sylvan refused to relax her guard and ground out, “You have broken the parlay. We are leaving.”
“They have one of yours,” Cecilia said conversationally. “Would you leave that one behind too?”
Sylvan snarled. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t reach them, but I can sense where they are, and I sense something else too. A wolf.” She cocked her head. “Take my hand and see for yourself, Alpha.”
“No!” Niki pushed in front of Sylvan and grasped Cecilia’s hand. With a high, keening whine, she shuddered and fell to her knees.
Sylvan growled and lunged, but Torren intercepted her.
“Wait,” Torren said.
“Move aside,” Sylvan growled, torn between attacking her ally and rescuing her wolf.
Cecilia stepped back, and Niki dropped to her hands and knees, panting. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto the gleaming marble floor. She gasped. “Trent.”
“You saw her?” Sylvan knelt by Niki’s side and wrapped an arm around her, let her power and Pack magic flow into her. Niki leaned hard against her, her breath rasping in and out.
“Not saw,” she finally said. With each passing second, she grew stronger until she pushed upright. “I sensed her. Alone, wounded. Somewhere…” She shivered violently. “Somewhere not this world, not ours.”
Sylvan jerked around, baring her teeth at Cecilia. “Where is my wolf?”
“I told you,” Cecilia said with exaggerated patience, “some lost knowe. Of Faerie, but not in Faerie.”
Sylvan bolted to her feet, slipping back into her normal form. “How do we get there?”
Cecilia regarded Torren. “Are you willing, Hunt Master?”
“If I open my power to yours,” Torren said calmly, “will you abide by the terms of parlay?”
“No harm will come to you.”
Torren smiled thinly. “No harm will come to us or ours.”
“Until you leave this realm,” Cecilia said, “no harm will come to you or yours.”
Torren glanced at Sylvan. “She makes no promises about the future.”
Sylvan glared at Cecilia. “Nor do I.”
Bowing regally to Cecilia, Torren held out her hand as if inviting her to dance. “My Queen.”
“It has been far too long.” Cecilia’s smile was self-satisfied and sensual as she took Torren’s hand.
* * *
Weres in pelt poured out of the forest onto the bluff, the Snowcrests and Timberwolves facing off on opposites sides of the clearing, the air clouding with battle pheromones. In the center of them all, Zora raged, her power and fury blasting into their bones and their blood. Wolves snarled and bared their teeth in challenge, pelt bristling, ears pulled back and heads low to the ground. Loris raced to Zora’s side, blocking her flank from the slowly encroaching Timberwolves. Ash joined her, and the two most dominant Weres in Zora’s Pack readied to protect their Alpha.
Jace burst out of the mass of Timberwolf warriors, shoulders bunched, eyes gone wolf, and confronted her mate and Loris.
“Hold your soldiers,” Jace growled at Loris.
Loris swung to face her, quivering with rage, dripping saliva from gleaming canines.
“Back away from the Alpha,” Loris demanded.
“Control your wolves,” Jace repeated and glanced at her mate. “Ash, help me.”
Shuddering, torn between Pack bonds and mate, Ash reached out to Loris. General, there is no challenge here. Our enemy… Chest heaving, Ash fought the primal urge to charge the foreign wolves in the heart of her territory. Her mate waited, proud and strong and trusting. Our enemy is not these wolves.
Zora, mad with fury and battle lust, howled again, straining at the Pack bonds for more power, pulling everything—anything—she could in her need to find Trent. The Pack bonds strained, and one by one her wolves fell, writhing and panting on the ground as she took their strength. Their agony finally broke through her fury, and a thread of sanity glimmered. Pack above all else, and she was their Alpha.
Hold, she ordered and shed pelt. The Snowcrest wolves slowly relented, and the Timberwolves backed away.
“What happened?” Jace asked.
“Another attack,” Zora said. “They have Trent.”
The Timberwolves snarled and snapped.
“Stand down,” Jace commanded, overriding their wild energy with her own power. Turning to her warriors, she added, “Captains, secure the perimeter.”
Loris repeated the order and the two Packs formed a defensive perimeter around the clearing. Satisfied the immediate threat was over, Jace trotted over to Ash, who stood with Loris and the Alpha.
“Where did they take her?” she asked.
“Through another Gate, like before,” Zora said, struggling for reason with every cell in her body, fighting her wolf’s demand that she find Trent.
“Are there other enemies still here?” Jace asked.
“Not that I can scent,” Zora said.
“Clan home?” Ash queried.
Zora reached out along the Pack bonds, sensed no disturbance. “All is quiet, but we must fortify our defenses there.”
Loris said, “Should I send our soldiers back, Alpha?”
“Do it.” Zora spun, her eyes fierce, and fixed on Jace. “I need your warriors. We will find Trent.”
“Alpha.” Jace lowered her gaze. “Let me contact my Alpha. Another attack may be coming. We are not ready.”
Zora didn’t hesitate. Calling on the Timberwolf Pack’s superior strength was a risk, but Trent was missing and her Clan home was endangered. She would not invite a slaughter for the sake of pride. She had trusted Sylvan Mir thus far. She would continue.
“Do it.”
* * *
Drake paced restlessly behind the stockade barricades. Sylvan had been gone only a few hours, but her wolf bristled with an uneasy sense of danger. The Pack bonds vibrated and tugged at her depths when Sylvan pulled power and shifted into her warrior form. Some kind of danger. Her need to be at her mate’s side clawed at her body and her will.
Max trotted up beside her. I’ve doubled the sentries, Prima.
You feel it? Drake queried.
Yes, Prima.
Secure the maternals and all the young, Drake ordered.
I shall see to it.
Max leapt away and Drake bounded onto the top of the fortifications. Surveying the forest, she lifted her muzzle to the sky and breathed deeply. She could not capture Sylvan’s scent—that had disappeared with her through the Gate that had opened like an impenetrable black mirror, winking out when Sylvan and the others stepped through it. But her mate bond remained strong. Still, something, somewhere had alerted her wolf. Sylvan would call on her if she needed, but something else, some other threat, was close.
Anya burst out of headquarters and raced across the Compound to Drake.
“Prima,” Anya said. “Jace on the sat radio. Something’s happened at Snowcrest. An attack.”
Drake spun around, shedding pelt as she followed Anya back to headquarters. She jumped onto the porch, pausing only long enough to grab pants from a stack by the door, and took the stairs to the comm room two at a time. Once she’d pulled on her camos, Anya handed her the radio.
“Jace,” Drake said, “what’s the situation?”
“A raid in the forest near Cresthome, Prima. Only a few invaders, but Trent was taken.”
“No other evidence of an invasion?” Drake asked.
“Not yet, Prima. The Snowcrest soldiers and our warriors are securing Cresthome. Alpha Constantine requests addition
al soldiers.”
“We’ll send two more teams,” Drake said instantly. She had no doubt that would be Sylvan’s decision. They could not allow the Snowcrest territory to be invaded or their allies to be destroyed. “What about Trent? Can you follow her trail?”
“No, Prima,” Jace said. “She was taken through the veil. There are no Gates.”
“I’ll try to reach the Alpha,” Drake said. “Misha may be able to contact Torren, also.”
“Yes, Prima.”
“Reinforcements will be there as quickly as we can mobilize them. Do not let Cresthome fall.”
“As you will,” Jace responded.
Drake disconnected and reached through her mate bond to Sylvan. We need you to return.
The mate bond burned deep in her chest, Sylvan pulling power—first from Drake, then through her from the Pack. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, Sylvan could not help them now.
Chapter Fourteen
Sylvan landed on all fours on a slope covered with musty smelling orange moss. Torren’s massive Hound shook itself beside her, the rumbling in its chest like thunder. Niki’s wolf drew close, rubbed its shoulder against hers.
Where are we, Niki asked.
Somewhere other, Sylvan replied, instantly on guard. She hadn’t expected to be pulled into her change when Torren’s power and that of the Faerie Queen catapulted them through a Gate, and the swift involuntary change left her momentarily disoriented. Wherever they were, the magic was old and, surprisingly, not completely unwelcoming. Remnants of broken song and sweet breeze tugged at her mind, but the ruff on her back bristled a warning. When she reached out for any sign of Trent, she hit a barrier as substantial as if she’d awakened in a cage of silver. She growled. This place holds danger.
“This place is very, very old,” Rafe said, twin iron-forged short swords in either hand. “Old enough to have a mind and will of its own. And we are strangers to it.”
She lowered but did not sheathe her swords in a show of nonaggression.