Death's Endless Enchanter

by Ruby Loren

  January frowned, feeling just as surprised as the rest of the shifters must have felt when it had happened. As a rule, shifters and wolves stayed separate and practiced a ‘live and let live’ kind of attitude. But then, the Witchwood pack was an exception to that rule, so why not this pack, too?

  “I was out with Bella when they caught up with us. We were surrounded by about a hundred or so wolves. If it hadn’t been for Bella pushing me back to make me stop, I would have fought to the death right there. Ever since that day, I’ve wished that I had done it. It might have given her a chance to get away…” He sighed again. “We were forced to change back into our human forms. Then the torture began. Things you can’t even imagine,” he said and gritted his teeth together so hard, January feared they might break.

  His eyes were starting to glow green. “They flayed the skin from my back and then they burned me. I think that’s why the skin never came back the right way again, despite our faster healing. I could hear Bella in the next room, screaming. I knew they were doing the same, maybe even worse, to her.” He raised his head and looked January in the eyes. “At a time like that, I’d have given anything to have had even a speck of your abilities. I would have given anything to have been able to tear them all to pieces and save Bella. But I’m not you. I was helpless.”

  January tried not to think too hard about how Ryan seemed to see her as all powerful. She was anything but.

  “After they must have finally figured that we both knew nothing, the wolves drove me to the middle of nowhere and dumped me in a ditch. They just left me there to die. The only thing that kept me alive was the thought that Bella had to be nearby. I figured they must have dumped her, too. I knew I had to find her.” His shoulders slumped. “I never did find her. In my heart, I think I already knew she was dead. She’d gone silent a couple of hours before they put me in that car.” He sighed and shook his head. “After I surprised myself by making it through the night, I didn’t go back. I ran away from everything and everyone because I thought it was all my fault. I should have saved her. I should have done more.” His voice changed to a growl. “I went back, years later, when I was older and thought myself wiser, hoping to find those wolves, but they’d gone. The pack must have seen them off. I lost all trace of those murderers and was never able to give them the justice they deserved for what they did to Bella.”

  “But… Bella’s alive? How?” January asked, hoping she wasn’t being insensitive. After a story like that, how could she turn up alive years later?

  Ryan’s voice turned into more of a growl. “The wolves kept her. I suppose they decided they liked their little plaything. It was only months later, when she was skinny enough to slip the anti-transformation shackles, that she changed and ran. She didn’t go back to our old life because she thought me dead.” Ryan tilted his head at January. “I think you know the rest. You’re the person I have to thank for bringing her back to me.”

  January tried to put on the best smile she could muster. “I am happy you’ve found each other again, really, I am,” she said, knowing how sad she sounded.

  Ryan shot her a sorry smile in return.

  “Did she ever manage to find the wolves again?” She asked, wondering if Bella had achieved what Ryan hadn’t.

  Ryan’s eyes grew dark and he nodded, slowly. “She told me that she did. I believe she has quite a reputation among wolves for it.” His mouth twisted up a little. “Kind of like your reputation with the vampires. You’re both scary bedtime stories for baby vampires and werewolves.”

  “With both of us in town, we’ll scare off everything supernatural,” January joked, but knew that it sounded weak. Her heart was already breaking.

  Ryan’s green eyes met hers. She knew they were both thinking the same thing.

  “I love you, January, but…” Ryan started.

  January looked away, out of the lounge window at the bright day outside. “I know. You were engaged to her. She was the one. She still is the one,” January corrected, looking back at Ryan and seeing the truth shining in his eyes. She managed a better smile. “I understand. It’s hard and it hurts, but you’re doing what’s right. I’ll probably need a few days, you know, before I work at the bar again,” she said, privately thinking she wasn’t sure if she would ever work there again. The bar had been her and Ryan’s project. Now Bella was there, it would probably become theirs and the pack’s.

  Ryan’s eyes sparkled in the morning light and January found she couldn’t begrudge him for looking so darn happy. She only wished that she’d one day find someone who would look at her in the same way.

  “I’ll see you soon, January. Bella will want to meet you properly, too… if that’s okay?” Ryan added, clearly worrying that he’d overstepped.

  January smiled and waved a hand. “Of course! She sounds interesting to say the least…” She tried not to think about the reaction of the recently appeased werewolves when they found out that someone with Bella’s reputation for killing their kind had moved into the area. They could even be forgiven for thinking it was all contrived…

  January shook her head and left Ryan to gather up his things. She’d just have to hope that Bella’s infamy had been exaggerated.

  “Such a lovely sunny day!” Leah said, tilting her face up to the sun and shooting January a sideways look. January threw her a disapproving one back. Just because she was a vampire witch and knew the secret to prancing about in daylight didn’t mean she had to rub it in everyone’s faces. Also, there was still no way she was ever going to trust, or like, Leah.

  “Too bad we’re going to be inside! But the club boss is, well… the boss, so let’s head in!” Mike said, sounding completely over cheerful. It was probably something to do with the amount of sucking up that Leah was still intent on doing, just to make sure Mike never thought about kicking her out of the band.

  “Making money on a Sunday afternoon. Now, that’s what I care about,” Cherri Fine, the pint-sized lead singer of the band piped up, surprising no one.

  January and Leah exchanged a look, both of them knowing that the other had a rather impressive fortune that meant neither of them really had to work. They would have been free spirits, had it not been for the oppressive thumb of The Clan, that presumably pressed down on both of them. January was still waiting for the next wave of bounty hunters to arrive in Hailfield and try to kill her.

  She hoped she’d be waiting for a long time.

  January sighed and plugged in her bass. Her fingers ran over the fretboard, plucking out syncopated rhythms without a second thought.

  There was always something lazy about Sunday afternoon gigs. Even the audience were in a content post-roast dinner daze that meant everything was far more relaxed. The band stuck to their repertoire of pop songs and easy listening rock, and before January knew it, they’d finished and it was time to pack up.

  She blinked and realised she hadn’t thought about Ryan for a whole three hours. Unfortunately, that thought made her think about Ryan. She huffed in annoyance and shoved her bass into its case. She would get over him eventually… probably. She sighed and then spun with lightning speed when someone touched her shoulder.

  It was only Leah’s superhuman reaction speed that stopped her from literally ripping the head off the all-too human man who’d just walked up behind her. Leah and January froze with January’s hands reaching for the man’s neck and Leah’s blocking them from going further.

  “Wow! You guys are fast,” the oddly dressed man observed.

  January and Leah immediately tried to laugh about it.

  “I’m afraid you got in the way of our little game. We take it in turns to sneak up on each other and practice our martial arts defence techniques,” Leah said, smoothly sliding next to January and slipping an arm over her shoulders. January tried not to just as smoothly slide the other way.

  “Well, uh, good to know you girls are ready for that kind of thing,” the man said, clearly not on his natural footing.

  January loo
ked down at the immaculate three piece suit he was wearing. There wasn’t anything odd about it, apart from the fact that it was a Sunday afternoon and they were in a rather remote country club that definitely didn’t have that kind of dress code. Or any dress code, January thought, remembering the farmer in his manure coated wax jacket. She still wished he hadn’t chosen to warm himself, and by default - his jacket, by the fire.

  “Did you want to tell us how good we are?” Cherri walked over and looked at the man, curiously. January recognised that kind of look and she couldn’t actually blame the lead singer. The man in front of them looked like a Calvin Klein model. He may be wearing a suit, but you could see the amount of hours he put in at the gym and his neatly trimmed stubble looked like an artist had sprayed it on.

  The man raised an eyebrow at January. She bit her lip in an attempt not to blush. Clearly, her observations hadn’t been subtle.

  “Yeah you guys are great. I just wanted to talk to these two ladies about a business proposition.” He smiled winningly at Cherri, but she was already flouncing off. Anyone who thought January and Leah were more important than she was wasn’t worth the time of day

  “Business?” Leah enquired, arching an eyebrow.

  January kept her expression blank. This man was going to get a nasty surprise if he didn’t mean exactly what he was saying. The man laughed a little, showing his nerves. January was suddenly conscious of how threatening they must look. This man wouldn’t consciously know it, but his subconscious was probably sending him all kinds of ‘run away’ messages.

  “I represent an up and coming pop star, James Phoenix. I’ve been hunting around for a rhythm section for his live band and was drawing a blank… until now! I came here for lunch with my cousins and couldn’t believe my eyes. You guys are perfect for the band!”

  January blinked. “So, is this paid?” She asked, not sure whether to believe this man.

  “And who are you exactly?” Leah chimed in, moving forwards and causing the man to take a step backwards, although he almost certainly had no idea why.

  “Yes, it’s pretty well paid. Well, more than a pub band anyway.” He shrugged. “As for your question,” he turned to Leah. “My name’s Ollie Torrent. I’m James Phoenix’s manager. I’m working for one of the largest and most successful indie labels around, Neon Rain. You may have heard of us.” Ollie allowed himself the smallest of humble smiles.

  January and Leah exchanged another glance. Neither of them was very up to date with modern music. They were in what was basically a classic rock covers band!

  “Okay, what do we do?” January asked, finally deciding that this puffed up music manager probably wasn’t one of the elite bounty hunters sent by The Clan to kill her.

  “You come to this address in London tomorrow morning at ten. We all get to meet and have a chat and we’ll figure out if all of this will come together. No pressure!” He said, lifting his hands up in a mock defensive gesture.

  January flinched a little at the sudden movement and noted Leah had, too. Interesting.

  “We’ll see you then,” Leah said and then turned her back on Ollie Torrent. January tried not to laugh at his surprise at being dismissed so easily. He clearly wasn’t used to getting the reaction from women that Leah had just exhibited. January gave him a final nod and then she too walked off to pack her bass guitar away. The music manager probably didn’t know what had hit him.

  “So, why are we doing this?” Leah said, walking alongside January, as they made their way to their cars.

  January shot her a sidelong look. “You said yes to it, too.”

  “Yes, because I’m protecting you. I can’t do that if you’re off in London messing around with some human music wannabe.”

  January opened her car’s boot, pensively. “You’re still sticking to that story.”

  Leah rolled her eyes and stomped her foot, impatiently. “Yes, because it’s true!” Leah shook her head. “Why don’t you understand? I wanted to kill you, and now I think you’re worth saving, so I’ve changed sides. Mostly,” she amended.

  January squinted at her. “And that is exactly why I don’t trust you.” She sighed and shoved the bass into the boot of her newly purchased Mini Clubman. It was slightly more suited to gigs than her Lotus.

  She thought about the unusual proposition they’d received that afternoon. “I think it would be fun to do something different with music. I mean, I don’t like you, but you are a good drummer, and we do sound good together,” she admitted.

  Leah flicked her short, dark hair back. “Jan… I’m a bit better than ‘good’,” she said, annoyingly shortening January’s name.

  Now it was January’s turn to roll her eyes. “Well, anyway… it probably beats playing in pubs, right? Plus it’s something to do…” She trailed off, thinking about Ryan again. This would definitely be a good distraction from that.

  Leah was still staring at her, January realised.

  “You okay?” The vampire-witch asked, her tone softening just a little. January didn’t buy it for a second. Leah had had centuries to perfect false emotion.

  “Not talking about it,” January said and stalked back into the pub to collect her amplifier. Thankfully, Leah didn’t try engaging her in ‘girl talk’ again. No matter what game Leah may or may not be playing, there was no way they were ever going to be besties.

  January breathed the cool, early April air into her lungs, as she ran down the narrow track. If any of the shifters in her pack could see her now, they’d probably die laughing. Exercise for their kind was usually taken in animal form, but January had wanted to see the woods from a human perspective for once. It also didn’t hurt to find out how fast you could run on two legs. You never knew when that would suddenly become essential information…

  All in all, she wasn’t impressed. After ten minutes of jogging, she was already out of breath and sweaty. Normal running was far less efficient than what she could do in her unicorn form.

  Unfortunately, her heavy breathing also masked her sharpened hearing. It was only when she heard the growl that she realised she had company.

  January turned and discovered three large wolves were standing behind her. Her skin prickled with fear when she remembered the near-invincible bounty hunting wolves that had nearly killed Ryan just a short time ago. She used her witch sight, but nothing glowed. Huh.

  “You’re not from the Witchwood pack,” she said, more to herself than to the wolves, as it wasn’t looking likely that they were going to answer. The lead wolf growled and slowly started to move forwards.

  January sighed, remembering Tor’s warning a little too late.

  “Don’t do this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she said, backing away to try and disperse the tension. If they’d been hanging around locally, they had to know who she was, right? They had to know that what they were thinking of doing would only get them killed. She bit her lip. They probably thought she couldn’t change fast enough. Any other shifter would be as good as dead, the distance she was currently stood from the wolves.

  She wasn’t just ‘any’ shifter.

  January stared at the lead wolf, reading his amber eyes that shone so brightly from the black of his coat. He wasn’t going to back down.

  “Well, I gave it a shot,” she muttered, secretly feeling thrilled by the good excuse to have a punch up. She took one more breath and then…

  “Did I miss the memo about the little red riding hood live action role-play group?”

  January suppressed a groan and rolled her eyes. Gregory slid into the clearing, wearing a knitted top and a pair of dark jeans – both of which looked distressed enough to make January assume they were, in fact, brand new and highly fashionable.

  “You seem to have a few too many wolves, or is it an audition?” Gregory added, smirking at the red hoodie January had mistakenly thought would be a good choice of clothing for a run through the woods.

  January glanced back at the wolves whose gazes had all switched to Grego
ry. He flashed them a rather toothy, white smile, and they ran.

  “Seriously?!” January complained when the clearing was no longer taken up by the three wolves.

  Gregory smirked. “I guess they know a real big bad wolf when they see one.”

  January huffed and tried not to argue. The wolves had only run because they were afraid of his super speed and (probably) renowned brutality. I have the nicest friends, she thought, trying not to dwell on just how many of her ‘friends’ were actually killers.

  “What’s up, Gregory? Are you stalking me again?” She asked, surprisingly feeling rather wistful for the time that he had been around a lot more. Looking back, the huge worries she’d had then didn’t seem half as bad as the mess she was currently in. Wasn’t that always the way, though?

  “I was actually coming through the forest to see you,” he admitted, smile still in place. “I wanted to offer my commiserations… I heard about Ryan’s fiancée mysteriously turning up out of the blue.” He shook his head. “Who could have known? I’m heartbroken for you.”

  January picked up a stick and threw it at his head. To Gregory’s credit, he let it make contact, but that just made January feel worse. It meant he really was sorry for her. Urgh!

  “I don’t want to talk about it or… do anything about it,” she said, crossing her arms protectively and trying not to give into the same old temptation. It would be so easy to slip straight back into Gregory’s arms. In the past, he’d even admitted that he thought he had genuine feelings for her, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt in return. He wasn’t exactly the kind of boyfriend you’d want to introduce to your parents. She smiled. Actually, taking Gregory home to her parents probably would be quite fun.

  “How about I walk you home, and we can chat about other things?” Gregory suggested, moving across and taking her arm - presumably a throwback to past times when such things were commonplace.