by LJ Rivers
“You caught her scent?”
His cheeks lifted, and I got just a tiny glimpse of his teeth behind his beard.
“Oh no, God, no!” I palmed my face. “You’re a bloody wolf!”
He wiggled his bushy brows. “You’ll get over it.”
“Your wife, she’s one too?”
“My mate, actually. We mate, we don’t marry.”
“All my life, you’ve lied to me.”
He hunched his shoulders. “Later, Buttercup. You have my word. I have to help with the ceremony, but I’ll find you when it’s over.”
I began stalking after him when a peculiar, stocky man blocked my path. I looked down, way down. He couldn’t be more than just over four feet, at the most. Not even with the shamrock-green top hat balancing on his wild nest of ginger hair did he manage to gain much height. The man leaned on a snarly wooden cane, rocking on his heels.
“Can I help you?” My voice came out a little sharp, so I softened it. “Excuse me.”
He raised his cane to stop me from moving past him, his moss green eyes peering up at me through his glasses. “I’m Dunstan Flett, your uncle’s attorney. We spoke on the phone.”
Collecting myself, I abandoned my chase and focused on Dunstan. I owed him my appreciation. “Oh, hi. Uhm, thank you for letting us have the memorial here.”
“Dinnae worry. It was Edwin’s wish. He told me long ago that when the time came, this was to be his resting place.”
“Are you burying him here?” I asked, disbelief thick in my voice.
“Mo bheannachd, lass, I meant for his soul. His ashes are already on their way to Scotland, as per his request. That aside, I have finished drawing up all the paperwork. The remainder is simply formalities.”
“I’m not following.”
“Mo brónach, you’re his only heir.” He reached into his chest pocket and brought out a key, which he proceeded to palm into my hand. “For Edwin’s house. Oh, ha! I suppose that would be your house now. You’ll need to sign the papers and all that, but everything is good to go.”
“But—”
“Aye, lass. Do with it as you wish, but he left you everything he owned. We can deal with the formalities before you return to Berlin.”
I put the key in the inside pocket of my jacket, then twined a lock of hair around my fingers. “What are you?”
“Well, I’m not a witch, that’s for sure.” His lips curled into a wicked grin, all the grooves and hills in his skin scrunching together.
Eyes wide, I couldn’t believe where my mind was taking me. “Are you a,” I lowered my voice, “leprechaun?”
He frowned.
“I thought leprechauns were Irish.”
“So they say.” He put the snarly head of his cane against his chin. “Many of my kind fled to Ireland once upon a time, that is true. I don’t much care for the term, as I’m a proud Scotsman, but we’re closely related. I’m what is called a picti.”
Leon came to my side, towering over Dunstan like an elephant about to step on a mouse. “Not many of your kind this side of the North Sea. What brought you to Denmark?”
“Opportunity.” Dunstan waved his cane. “I’ll just be on my merry way. The ceremony is about to start. Find me later, Camryn. I’ll be stayin` here for the night.”
I watched him hobble away, once again reminded of how little I knew about this world and who my guardian had truly been.
The familiar sound of Wolfgang’s piano-playing filled the air, and the crowd gathered around a small podium in the center of the clearing. Flowers and arrangements of straws and other plants surrounded it, and people lit candles among them.
“That’s a fire hazard if I ever saw one,” I said under my breath to Leon just as Rosamund came up next to us.
“Not to worry.” She snapped her fingers, frowned, and strutted to the other side of the podium, where she did it again. This time, one of the candles blew out. She nodded to herself and came back. “Fire can be extinguished.”
The music shifted, and an elderly woman entered the stage, opening the ceremony with one of Edwin’s favorite songs, “Why” by Annie Lennox. It was one I had heard a thousand times over, but it had never gripped me as profoundly as it did now. The words dug deep, the notes tangible in the air. A tear slipped down my cheek as I said my silent goodbye. I wasn’t much of a public speaker, so I quietly worked through my grief while I watched the ceremony unfold.
It was a beautiful send-off, and people I had never met stood up to say a few words about a side of Edwin I had never known. They thanked him for protection spells and medicinal herbs, and one woman even said she owed him her life. Some recited poetry, some sang, one man played a heart-wrenching tune on a pan flute, while others scattered herbs around. It seemed nuts, but as I understood it, the herbs were meant to provide protection and solace on Edwin’s path to whatever world came next.
The very idea that Edwin was anywhere but in the pile of ashes currently being shipped to Scotland was absurd, and yet not. With everything I had seen these past few days, was it really that much of a stretch to imagine that death wasn’t the end? Leon had talked about spectrals, and if those were real, why not an afterlife? After all, the number of worlds I had known about had doubled in only a few days. It gave me hope as I glanced up at the clear summer sky, where a few cotton clouds slowly changed shapes. Wolfgang used to tell me what he saw in those shapes, usually some animal or another, but I never saw much of anything other than the clouds themselves. Now, though, I could almost make out the shape of Edwin’s face looking down on me, his long pipe to his lips, and balls of smoke drifting off to join the smoky trails of white sheets on the firmament.
I clutched a hand to my heart and heaved a sigh, silently thanking my uncle for everything he’d done for me, when someone caught my eye.
A woman peeked out from behind a tree trunk, her body in the shadows. She wore sunglasses and a black veil over her hair, but I could still pick up the intensity of her gaze on me. She gestured with the crook of a finger for me to come closer. All other noises drowned out beneath the music, and I hesitated for a few beats. The woman gestured for me again and tickled my curiosity.
I looked around, the crowd’s attention on the podium. Leon turned his head over his shoulder, and I pointed at the trees. “I need a minute,” I mouthed.
He nodded, then turned back.
Another somber song followed as I strode to the trees. Where had she gone?
“Camryn,” a woman’s voice said.
I peered into the shadows. The woman moved forward about ten feet ahead, waving for me. I closed the distance and fell into step with her.
“Too many people,” she said. “I’m not a fan of crowds, but I had to come.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Estelle. I’m not sure whether Edwin mentioned me or not, but we’ve been seeing each other.”
We exited the line of trees and walked alongside a fence. Horses grazed on the other side, and a barn rose ahead.
I glared daggers at the woman. “You were there when he died.”
She dipped her delicate chin. “I was.”
“Why are you alive, then?” It came out as an accusation, but I didn’t care. I didn’t know this woman, and for reasons unknown, Edwin had died in her home. Yet she had lived.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
The noise from the ceremony faded in the distance, replaced by the loud throbs of my heart. “Go on.”
“There’s a lot of prying ears around, so I wanted to make sure no one heard us first.”
I glanced at the large barn, deciding I wasn’t going in there with her. She was a few inches shorter than me. Blue veins protruded from her frail hands, and her small frame made her look fragile. All in all, there was nothing about her that seemed threatening. Even so, my guard was up. Ceremony or not, I had opted for black pants and a size-too-big suit jacket, which concealed the weapon on my back. The weight of my Glock was as familiar as it was comforti
ng.
We reached the red wall of the barn, but Estelle made no attempt to go inside. Instead, we went around the corner, and she finally stopped by a park bench. My eyes flicked to a crumpled cigarette pack in the grass—the same brand as the pack in Naunet’s apartment.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Estelle patted the bench.
“I’d rather stand.” Something wasn’t right, and my body tensed with anticipation. Pretending to clasp my hands behind my back, I reached for my gun. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Your uncle and I were together for about six months, yet he rarely spoke of you.”
That stung a little, but I could hardly blame him. Come to think of it, I was glad. It was his way of protecting me, and the secret I never knew I had until a few days ago. I gripped the hilt of my Glock, planting my feet firmly on the ground to prepare myself for whatever might come.
“Did you see who murdered him?”
Her lips curled into a wicked, tight-lipped grin. “Zale was right,” she murmured. “What an oddity you are.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who’s Zale?”
She removed her sunglasses and put them in a small purse attached to her belt. “The dhampir who tasted your blood. I’ve been dying to get a sip myself.”
Her onyx eyes fixed on mine, and when her fangs punched out, I thrust my arm up. And pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated the wall behind her, and I shifted my head back and forth.
Where was she?
“Right behind you, dear.”
I pivoted around, taking another shot. Once again, I missed. She was too fast. Just like the dhampir who attacked Petra and me.
When I spotted her running to the back of the barn, I sprinted forward and pulled the trigger three times over. Rounding the corner, I skidded to my knees as a fist punched the air above my nose. I ensnared her thin wrist and swung myself onto her back. She whirled around, thrashing underneath me like an angry bull. Wrapping my arm around her neck, I pointed the gun to her temple. And shot her point blank.
She shrieked while barreling into the barn wall, wood splintering in every direction. I winced as some of it scraped against my legs and arms, cutting into my flesh. How was she still standing?
She came to an abrupt stop, and the momentum made me lose my grip. I sailed through the air and fell face-first into a mound of hay. My Glock thumped to the ground, sliding across the mud on the floor. Gasping, I rolled onto my back, my limbs protesting my every move.
“Didn’t anyone teach you to use silver bullets?” Estelle advanced slowly. The bullet wound on her temple was closing up, and before it did, the bullet spat out of her head, clinking to the ground. “You can’t run from me, shield witch.”
“I can try.” I shot to my feet and bolted for the exit. Pain reverberated through my every nerve ending as I slammed into a wall of stone. Only, it wasn’t a wall. My eyes widened as I stared into the fist aiming for my face.
Chapter Twenty
When Camryn left, the floodgates of emotions nearly knocked Leon to the ground. He was used to easing into situations like these, giving himself a chance to adjust. Years of honing his power had made it tolerable, but the sudden change from being alone with his thoughts to the torrents of grief and sorrow now rooted in his very soul. It entered him like a plague, breaking him down from the inside out. Rosamund stood nearby, and despite her composure, her bottomless despair tore at him the most. As one of the most guarded people he knew, it especially pained him to realize how much regret and heartache lived inside her soul. It seeped into his heart, which recognized the devastation of heartache, and the emotions tangled together until tears welled in his eyes. Taking shallow breaths, he undid the top two buttons on his shirt, as if that would help him breathe more easily. Instead, his throat constricted, and beads of perspiration coated his brow.
When his head began pounding, he separated himself from the crowd. In his younger days, he was often troubled by migraines. They came less frequently as he learned to tune out the many insignificant sentiments and distance himself from the ones that mattered. Separating Rosamund’s grief from his own hurt—however much he had attempted to bury it—became nigh on impossible with everyone else’s feelings simultaneously bombarding him.
It was indeed a curse, and his biggest regret was that Noelle had to endure the same impediment in her life. It already troubled her, and though she was a brave child—albeit stubborn and proud—she struggled as much as he had in his youth, if not more. She wanted to be a part of the pride if she turned out to be a shifter, and he wanted her to have that second family, but that meant establishing close bonds with the other cats. Theirs was a strong bond, a connection that went beyond regular family ties. As an empath, Noelle’s power would only strengthen within the pride if she became one of them, allowing her to feel the other cats and their emotions on a different level than he ever had. He couldn’t begin to imagine the internal battles ahead of her, and worst of all, there was nothing he could do to help.
Staggering back to the path, he only stopped when all that remained was a hum of sensations. He sagged and dropped to his butt, leaning his elbows on his knees while massaging his temples.
If only Camryn would return and give him reprieve.
As he sat there, the ceremony tapered down, but the music kept playing. Sadness seeped away as the crowd celebrated Edwin’s life. This was how most witches remembered someone, only it wasn’t always as grand. Camryn’s uncle must have touched a lot of people for this many to show up.
Wolfgang stood up on the podium, claiming everyone’s attention. He wasn’t a tall man, but his bulky body and gruff appearance somehow forced people to pay attention. From what Leon could gather, Wolfgang was an Alpha. But if that was true, where was his pack? There were, of course, reasons for an old Alpha wolf not to lead a pack, though most of those reasons didn’t speak in the Alpha’s favor. It was possible that Wolfgang losing a limb had been the nail in the coffin.
“We wish to thank you all for coming,” Wolfgang bellowed. “Now, there’s food and refreshments at the main house. Eat, enjoy, and celebrate.”
Murmurs turned into a loud chatter as a wave of people began milling in Leon’s direction. He stood up to allow people to pass. He glanced toward the trees, canting his head to the side. Camryn should’ve been back by now. Had she returned without him noticing? If she had, he would have felt it. Or rather, not have felt it. If she had been near, the cacophony of feelings he was picking up from the other guests would instantly abate. An old quote came to him, though he couldn't recall who had said it. Music is the silence between the notes. Debussy, maybe? Casting the thought aside, he weaved through the crowd and found Wolfgang and his wife sitting on the edge of the podium.
“Have you seen Cam?” Leon asked.
Wolfgang crossed one leg over his thigh and massaged the stump on it, his prosthesis lying in the grass by his remaining foot. “Not since before the ceremony. Wasn’t she with you?”
“She said she needed a minute—”
A gunshot pierced the air. It was a good distance away, but he recognized it all the same. The protective instinct of the Alpha settled in Leon’s blood, and their joined fear ricocheted through his body.
Wolfgang’s eyes went wide with fury. In a vortex of magic, his clothes fell away, and his animal emerged. He was a sight to behold. A stunning obsidian coat with white-tipped ears and paws.
Another gunshot echoed through the trees. The wolf howled and spun around, before bounding away and disappearing into the thicket. For an animal missing one leg, he was fast. Within seconds, a white wolf followed. A second heap of clothes lay next to Wolfgang’s.
More gunshots.
Cam!
Leon sprinted after the animals, following their howls when he could no longer see either of them. Once he came up to a red barn, he slowed, scanning the scene. He was too exposed, but the white wolf licking her paw in the small clearing didn’t seem concerned about being gunned down, so neit
her was he. Wolfgang’s wolf scampered around the corner at the back of the barn, teeth bared in a feral snarl.
“Where is she?” Leon commanded, jogging to the side of the barn. He’d been around wolves enough to keep a respectable distance as he circled around the building. A man-sized hole gaped back at him from the back wall. Splinters and broken planks littered the ground, blood streaking the shredded wood panels in the opening. “Is she in there?” he asked, even though the wolf couldn’t reply.
He edged sideways into the barn, shielding his head from the sharp edges. More blood pooled in the mud ahead. Hay scattered the floor, but there was no sight of Camryn. Where was she?
A hiss startled him, and he shifted his head this way and that, then looked up to find a familiar werecat strutting across a beam in the ceiling. It gracefully jumped onto a ledge and found its way to the ground, where it slipped behind a mound of hay. Seconds later, Rosamund’s head emerged.
“May I borrow your coat?”
He nodded, as he was already taking it off, and closed the distance between them. He handed her his coat. Once she had draped it around herself, she stood up, stretching her neck. They walked outside through the main doors, where Wolfgang was once again a man, cradling the white wolf in his lap.
A sheet of clouds passed in front of the sun, leaving the world momentarily in shadows before the warm rays broke through them once more.
“No sign of her,” Leon said.
“They exited from the second floor.” Rosamund inclined her head at a broken window in the hayloft.
“I’m afraid she has no scent trail.” Wolfgang held Cam’s Glock out for Leon to take. “She fired her weapon six times, and I don’t think anyone fired at her. Even so, she’s gone. I did pick up on a strange odor, though. Vile, to be sure. Whatever took her wasn’t human, but it wasn’t any breed I’ve ever come across either.”