The Wizard Wolf (WindWard Triad Book 1)

by Noah Harris

  Carson huffed. “Are you going to tell me why you showed up, pounding on my door, looking like you were in a brawl? Or are you going to stand around and give me hell because I’ve got a new statue?”

  Kell sighed. “I look like I was in a fight because I was. Some guy was following me around today. When I tried to get away, him and his buddies decided to jump me in an alley.”

  Carson blinked, his mouth opening and closing uselessly a few times before he spoke. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

  Kell looked down at his burned pants. “Other than having a little cut and ruined pants, yeah, I’m fine. An AC unit fell off the building and gave me a chance to get away. I don’t know if they’re going to come back here but I didn’t want to go back to my apartment. They knew me well enough to corner me, so I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  Carson nodded slowly. “I guess Lady Luck was looking out for you again.”

  “Yeah, I’m blessed alright,” Kell replied bitterly.

  “Blessed enough for luck to swing your way and save you from whatever those guys had planned for you,” Carson insisted.

  Carson might want to call it good luck, but Kell thought of it as a mixed curse. Strange events had followed him his whole life and they rarely worked in his favor. The AC unit falling off the building was one of the rare times Kell could blatantly be thankful for something odd happening in his life. The other times, such as when a large bay window had blown inward during an argument he’d been having with one of the other foster kids, were the bane of his existence. Kell had been untouched by the exploding window but the other boy had needed dozens of stitches from the flying shards of glass. Kell had ended up transferred out of the house to another, far more miserable home.

  It wasn’t the first time something bizarre had occurred in the heat of the moment and Kell had ended up suffering the consequences. Although no one had ever been able to directly attribute the events to Kell personally, it was a case of guilt by association. Kell didn’t want to call the events supernatural but he was more than willing to call himself cursed. Odd things seemed to happen around him, often enough that others learned to avoid him, especially if he was emotional. The more agitated he was, the more likely something odd and dangerous was to happen around him.

  Kell stared at his friend. “You going out?”

  Carson looked down at himself. “Yeah, I was called in and was getting ready when you showed up.”

  “They know you’re over an hour away from the office, right?” Kell asked.

  “They know. They’ll hold things down until I get there,” Carson told him, busying himself by adjusting his tie.

  Kell shook his head. “I don’t know why you don’t just move closer. You’re obviously making the money to move to a nicer place.”

  Carson shrugged. “I like it here, it suits me. Plus, who would you bug in the middle of the night whenever you’re feeling bored and lonely?”

  “Cabs exist, you know,” Kell pointed out.

  Carson walked out, his voice drifting down the hallway. “And you’re going to fork out the money for a cab just to stop by and bug me?”

  “I appreciate you sticking around to keep me company and all, but there’s no reason for you to stay here just for that,” Kell called after him.

  Carson reappeared a moment later, suit jacket and shoes on. “Who says it’s because of you?”

  Kell rolled his eyes but said nothing. Neither of them had been willing to talk about why Carson stuck around in a ratty apartment on the poorer side of the city when he could easily afford to move to a cleaner, safer part of town. Kell had chosen to move into the same apartment building because it had been convenient to be near his childhood friend and helped ease some of his own loneliness. However, with Carson’s new job, he was more than capable of moving somewhere that suited his income better and would put him closer to work.

  He was touched that his friend wanted to stay around for his benefit but it made him feel guilty as well. If Carson had better opportunities, Kell felt he should take them. It would be a lonelier existence for Kell, but at least he wouldn’t feel as if he were holding his friend back.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Carson asked as he checked his pockets.

  Kell flopped down onto the couch. “I’ll be okay. I just didn’t want to be in my apartment is all. I’ll crash here for a little bit—you go do your job.”

  Carson shook his head, opening the door to his apartment. “There’s leftover Thai in the fridge, help yourself. I’ll be back later tonight if you’re still here.”

  Kell was content to enjoy the silence after Carson disappeared. One of the reasons he liked Carson was because the man just understood him. He was sure if it’d been anyone else he’d talked to after being ambushed, they’d have insisted he go to the police. Kell didn’t like anyone with authority and was especially wary of cops. Something about the mix of aggression and command always seemed to bring out the worst in people, and it didn’t help that most cops quickly learned about him and his reputation growing up. Kell was content to hide out, grumbling about his ruined jeans, rather than run to the nearest police station.

  He felt his life had prepared him for dealing with hardship and no small amount of struggle. What it hadn’t prepared him for was being jumped in an alley by three men he’d never seen before. Three men who knew more about him than he was comfortable with. Kell had contented himself with living his life quietly in the background hum of the rest of the world.

  In the span of an hour, the three men had thrown him from the background into the spotlight of someone else’s life. They knew him, well enough to know his habits and reactions. The fear in the alley finally gave way to paranoia and unease. He’d always thought of himself as unobtrusive and not worth noticing. Kell didn’t know what he’d done to earn crosshairs aimed at him, and the quiet of Carson’s apartment was only serving to give him space to worry and fret.

  The peace was ruined when a thud resounded from somewhere to his left. It took Kell a moment to realize it was the sound of a door being flung open. Another thump brought him upright, tense as he realized the sound was coming from his apartment.

  “Son of a bitch,” Kell hissed as he heard a series of noises, objects being tossed by the sound of it, from the other side of the wall.

  The next heavy sound was further away, and Kell realized they weren’t tearing through his things but searching through his apartment, probably for him. That he’d been right about them knowing where he lived provided little comfort as he heard their irritated mutterings to one another through the shared wall. As he listened intently, noting one of the voices moving toward the hallway again, it occurred to him they probably knew about Carson as well.

  The sound of the men began to drift closer to the hallway and Kell figured he only had a minute or so before they broke into Carson’s apartment. As much as he hated the idea of the thugs in his room, there was no way for him to stop them. The best he could do was get out of the apartment as quickly as possible and be thankful his friend was already out of harm’s reach.

  Kell dashed across the living room toward the sliding glass door. He stepped out onto the second-floor balcony, closing the door behind him just in time to hear the first blow hit the apartment door. Kell swore under his breath as he looked to the nearby fire escape. It didn’t look stable, but he figured it was better to risk the danger of possible injury rather than stay for the certainty of one.

  The door to Carson’s apartment blew inward with a splintering crash. Kell leapt the short distance between the railing of the apartment and the fire escape to the sound of one of them yelling. He didn’t stop to find out if they’d been yelling about him, yanking himself up over the rail of the fire escape and darting to the stairs. The metal shook as he hurried down. Another shout brought his head up as his feet hit the ground, and he glanced up to see one of men hanging out the sliding door to the balcony, pointing down toward him.

  Kell spared them a flash of his middle f
inger as he ran out of the alley between his apartment building and the next. The afternoon crowds had thickened in the time he’d been in Carson’s apartment, and Kell made straight for the densest part. He hoped he could lose them in the crowd of people and give himself a chance to get away. Then he’d be able to call Carson and warn him of the men in his apartment while he figured out what to do next.

  He was so caught up in making sure they weren’t close and forming his next plan of action that he forgot to look in front of him. His face slammed into a warm body and would’ve gone crashing to the ground if it weren’t for a sudden strong grip on his shoulders keeping him upright.

  Keller caught his balance, spitting out an apology with a glance backward before looking up. His words failed as he looked straight into the most striking pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen. Even in the gray light of the overcast day, the man’s eyes shone with a crystalline light, accented perfectly by the thick crop of black hair on his head. The man was noticeably taller than Keller, having to look down at him. His grip was strong, and Keller couldn’t help but notice the width of his shoulders. For a moment, Kell forgot where he was and found himself wondering what it would be like to run his hands over the man’s back.

  “You okay?” the man was asking, his voice heavy with a British accent.

  “I’m so sorry, I was…” Kell stopped, glancing over his shoulder, unsure how to explain himself.

  The man snorted. “Running headfirst through a crowd of people without paying attention to where you were going? Yeah, I noticed. My sore chest says hi.”

  Kell’s response lodged in his throat when he caught sight of his pursuers heading through the crowd. His attempts to pull away from the irritated man were thwarted as he was held tighter to him. Kell squirmed, trying to break the guy’s hold as the three attackers pushed their way toward them. The man held him even tighter, his bright eyes looking at the trio.

  “Hold still, you’re fine,” the dark-haired man hissed at him, sounding even more annoyed than before.

  Kell’s tension burst into almost pure panic as the three men from before came within sight. One of them, the blond, looked right at them, but Kell could have sworn the man’s gaze passed right through him. With a hand motion, the blond pushed farther into the crowd with his friends on his heels.

  He looked around in amazement as the crowd passed by them, surging around the space his assailants had made in their search. As he watched, they walked around where he and the bright-eyed stranger stood without so much as a glance toward them. It was as if the two of them had disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 2

  Johnny

  John Francis Oakes had always found a certain irony in coming to visit Boston. Never mind that he wasn’t terribly fond of the states as it was, but he could certainly see the humor in a UK native visiting the birthplace of the American Revolution. It wasn’t as if the city was hostile to his presence, like it would have been in the past, but there was always the sensation of being unwanted that nagged at the back of his mind.

  Most of that, he was sure, had to do with his own thoughts and worries playing on his mind. America had always been more divisive than many other countries, and that included their supernatural population as well. While the rest of the supernatural world preferred to be called Children of the Moon, the Children in America were less likely to take on the title but were more likely to enforce the strict lines separating werewolf and witch.

  For Johnny, who much preferred his blurred lines, a decision he kept to himself for the most part, it meant greater alienation from others than he was comfortable with. It was one thing to know you were an outsider, but it was something else entirely when you were reminded of it constantly. The Children in America were far more willing to spout their opinion, even bringing it up as a conversation topic rather than reserving it for a more private setting. It didn’t help when Johnny’s ability to pick up on the thoughts of others happened to read the fury and hate so many had for those that were different than them. It was a world-wide problem, of course, but Johnny found that America, as divisive and decisive as its population could be, tended to produce stronger feelings.

  Had it not been for the oracles and soothsayers throughout his life constantly proclaiming his true destiny lay in America, he would’ve never stayed long. Love was meant to be followed by “great change and world-shaking events,” or so the ones with supposed precognitive abilities claimed. All Johnny had ever found in the US was frustration, loneliness, and heartache.

  Johnny wasn’t sure if it was his craving for the love he was promised or just a change to the dull and bitter repetition of his life. His choices forced him to ride the line between werewolf and witch, despite the laws against it, and it made for a lonely life. Johnny had always felt a little ill at ease with himself growing up, but the day he’d been forced to choose between wolf and witch had been the day the line inside him became permanent. Unable to truly choose one world over another, he straddled the line and never quite had a place in either group. Someone to walk the world with him, taking his loneliness away and easing the desires of his inner wolf, was an attractive prospect to the lone alpha.

  Johnny had been thankful when the strange scent in the air had caught his attention and pulled him out of his brooding. The changing season had brought more people onto the streets than previous winter months, and Johnny had carefully worked his way to find the source of the strange smell. He couldn’t quite describe what the scent was, but the smell drew him, promising something not quite articulated or understood just yet. It was a mystery he was willing to focus on, rather than the thoughts creeping their way through the shadowy corners of his mind.

  After several minutes of searching, Johnny had been greeted by the bone-jarring thud of a smaller man slamming into him. Instinctively, Johnny reached out to hold him upright before the man collapsed backward. The man’s red hair was dark, like a dying ember, and flying in every direction as he glanced behind him. Eyes as dark and brown as the bark of the trees in Johnny’s home frantically searched the crowd for something.

  It was obvious to him the man was running from something, and desperately at that. Fear ran across the man’s dark eyes, the arms in Johnny’s hands were taut, as if ready to fight. At the back of his mind, his power sensed fear, and it tugged at Johnny’s heart. It was the sort of fear that someone weary of the world felt, knowing they had to run and always wondering when they could just rest. It was an exhaustion Johnny knew all too well, and it was that, more than anything else, which kept his hold steady on the man.

  Without thinking about it, Johnny summoned up the wellspring of power within him. Tendrils of unseen magic wrapped around the both of them, altering not the patterns and flow of light, but the perception of those who might look their way. While some illusions worked through the physical, Johnny worked his magic through the minds of others. Rather than a true disappearance, those who might have seen them would instead see through them. With a final twist of the power, he ensured that those who might brush against them would instead give them a wide berth without thought, the choice seeming natural and of no note for those affected.

  They both watched, with Johnny holding the man steady, as a trio of well-dressed but average-looking men appeared in the crowd. He’d seen enough plain-clothed members of the Vigil in the past, and Johnny’s fingers tightened in response, hoping to keep the man quiet as the Vigil members approached them. The illusion would be broken the moment either one of them drew attention to themselves and Johnny did not relish trying to fight members of the Vigil, especially ones who already looked angry and frustrated.

  The red-haired man in his grip silently gaped at the members of the Vigil. A crease, ever deepening as the trio disappeared into the crowd, formed on the man’s brow. Johnny didn’t need his ability to see the man was shocked—it was written on his face. He waited another minute, making sure the Vigil members had left, before releasing his hold on the man.

  “There,
see what a little patience can do?” Johnny asked him.

  The man looked at him, eyes wide. “How…did they not see us? That blond-haired asshole looked right at me. There’s no way he couldn’t see me.”

  Johnny was a little surprised but tried to hide it as he realized the man had no idea what was happening. If there was one thing Johnny could rely on his telepathy for, it was knowing when someone was telling him the truth. Yet there had only been one other person he’d run into who hadn’t known why they were being pursued, but that had been a six-year-old girl. In his travels, he’d heard of unknowing targets of the Vigil, but generally speaking, those who were targeted by the fanatics and knew nothing about them, typically didn’t live long enough to talk about it.

  Johnny snorted. “Virgin huh? I guess I get to pop a cherry, joy for me.”

  The man blinked up at him, shaking his head. “I’m Keller, or Kell actually. God, don’t call me Keller, that’s for when I’m in the shit.”

  “Well, Kell, I think having members of the Vigil come down on you is a clear example of being ‘in the shit.’ And you can call me Johnny,” he added as an afterthought.

  Kell wrinkled his nose with a laugh. “What an odd name for someone who sounds like you.”

  Johnny arched a brow at him. “Who sounds like me, eh?”

  “You know, fancy, a Brit,” Kell said.

  Johnny sighed. “You do know we’re not all tea drinking, posh sorts, correct?”

  “It’s still weird to hear someone with your accent be called Johnny,” Kell said with a shrug.