Lost Vegas Series

by Lizzy Ford

  “Every man has something of value.”

  Arthur waited, dissatisfied with the response. When the skinwalker did not elaborate, he pressed for an answer. “Where were you supposed to take me, assuming you succeeded?”

  “Not far from here.”

  “So he is local.”

  The skinwalker was quiet.

  “Does it matter now who it is?” Arthur prodded. “You have failed. Why not tell me?”

  “It is not a matter of failure that keeps me quiet,” snapped the skinwalker moodily. “You will not believe me if I reveal who he is.”

  Arthur leaned forward in interest. “Who is it?”

  “A man with a mark like the one you bear.”

  Arthur touched his shoulder, where the tattoo of an eagle was located. The sacred mark was born only by Hanover’s. “My father?” he asked, surprised.

  “No.”

  “No one else bears this mark, except for my sister.”

  “I told you. You would not believe me.”

  It was hard to think when his mind was fatigued and his body starving, but Arthur could only draw one conclusion. “Another Hanover? One outside the city?”

  “He tracked me down when I was two thousand miles away,” the skinwalker explained. “Hired me without asking my price.”

  “Interesting tale, but to my knowledge, no other Hanover is alive at the moment. Who was it really?”

  The skinwalker muttered something under his breath and dropped his head back, falling silent.

  Sensing he was done speaking on the topic, Arthur tried another topic to encourage him to stay awake. “Your wolf. How did you come by her?”

  “Not wolf. Guide.”

  “Guide? She leads you places and you murder everyone in them?” Arthur asked, confused.

  The skinwalker laughed hoarsely. “No. She is my spirit guide.”

  “From the spirit world.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. A spirit wolf. Well, I cannot deny she is no normal animal.”

  “She has been too weak to heal or travel far,” the skinwalker said.

  “Her pups are spirit babies?”

  “One may be. It is rare for more than … one to possesses the gift she does.”

  Arthur looked at the pile of warm, fuzzy puppies. “Is their father a wolf or spirit or … you?” he asked.

  “No father.”

  “Interesting.” Arthur finished binding the last of the major wounds and sat back. “Knowing what you do now of my sister, why do you think you were in my vision?”

  “You said I was in this form for most of the visions.”

  “That is correct.”

  The skinwalker gazed at the blue sky visible through the pine needle canopy above. “I rarely kill in this form,” he said at last.

  “You do not believe you were pursuing her to kill her.”

  “No.”

  “Why else would you be pursuing her?”

  “It was your … vision. Not mine.”

  Arthur dwelled on this tidbit of information. The discussion changed his initial interpretation of visions he had of the skinwalker chasing Tiana. He was less clear as to why his father would be in a field outside the city, since no Hanover leader ever left the city after ascending to his place in charge, but his father’s fury was unmistakable.

  “After you promised not to hurt her, when we were at the river, the visions ceased,” Arthur said. “I cannot imagine you were not chasing her for good reasons. Thus your promise must have stopped that version of her future. I did nothing else in the span of that day to affect it.”

  “Maybe she did.”

  “For a murderous beast, you are rather wise,” Arthur stated reluctantly.

  “I have lived … two, maybe three lifetimes. You owe me for granting this promise,” the skinwalker reminded me. “More so after your sister tried to tear me apart.”

  “I will uphold my side of the deal,” Arthur said. “What is it you want?”

  “I will tell you when the time is right.”

  Uneasiness twisted Arthur’s empty stomach. The skinwalker had not said he would reveal the price when he decided what it was. Which meant, he already knew. What was he waiting for? Did he have visions as well?

  What could a man evil enough to slaughter babes in their mothers’ arms possibly want from Arthur?

  Who is worse – this man or my father? Arthur contemplated with no small amount of surprise his father had competition.

  The skinwalker’s eyes closed.

  “You must stay awake. I do not care if you die, but our common friend does. She has been too good to me for me not to act in her favor.” Arthur gathered up the pups and shifted back to the log. “What is your given name? I have heard several variations.”

  “The man who bore … my given name is dead. I call myself Black Wolf, in honor of my guide.”

  “You murdered my friends, Black Wolf,” Arthur said. “Good men. Men I have known my entire life.”

  “They are here with me.”

  “What?”

  Black Wolf smiled coldly. “All the spirits … all my spirits … they stay with me forever. Say farewell, if you wish. Your friends are standing behind you.”

  Arthur whipped around without seeing anyone. He relaxed. “You are hallucinating.”

  “You believe in your magic but not mine,” the skinwalker observed.

  “Your magic is terrifying. Nonetheless, you have lost too much blood not to be delirious.” With no food for two days, Arthur was growing too uncomfortable to continue the discussion. He huddled with the pups on the log, feeling ill himself.

  The skinwalker’s eyes closed once more, and his breathing became deeper.

  “Awake.” Arthur nudged him with his foot.

  Black Wolf’s eyes opened again.

  “My … friend,” Arthur started. “One of those you attacked. He did not die, but from my understanding, he is badly wounded. My sister claims you inflicted him with a wound that will not heal.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It is not outside the possible?”

  “If I hurt him in this form, the wound is like any other,” the skinwalker explained. “If I was in my other forms, then the wound was made with magic.”

  “How is a magical wound healed?”

  “Only I can heal it.”

  “And in return, you would want something from me,” Arthur said. “If I promise to pay it, will you heal it?”

  The skinwalker peered at him closely for a moment then relaxed his head to the ground once more. “No.”

  “No? Why not?” Arthur prodded, mind on Warner and what Tiana had revealed about his lover’s condition.

  “When I reveal the price for not killing your sister, you will understand. It’s rare when anyone can afford my services twice.”

  A chill ran through Arthur. “I would do anything for him.”

  “You may have the opportunity to prove this.”

  What could Black Wolf ask of him that would make him unwilling to pay a second time?

  It seemed too simple for the price to be his life. Why would the skinwalker hide it if so?

  Arthur surveyed the skinwalker’s body, not at all convinced the creature would survive until sundown. With his attention split between Black Wolf and his own misery, he shifted to sit on the ground with his back to the log and rested his head back. The pups stilled soon after he did. He began to doze fitfully and soon forgot his efforts to keep the creature awake.

  No visions formed, and the hunger in his belly turned to pain.

  No more than three hours later, however, he felt the warm lick of a rough tongue against his cheek and opened his eyes. Too distracted by his own misery, he had not heard the wolf’s approach.

  “Hi there,” he said and shifted to sit up straight. As if sensing their mother, the pups began to squirm. She nudged the bundle. Arthur set it down and then glanced around. “I hope you brought help.”

  Slow. She replied and then settled onto t
he ground beside him to feed her babies. Her fur was marbled black and white.

  Arthur rose and went still, overcome by dizziness. When the spell passed, he returned to the skinwalker’s side. “Are you dead?” he asked.

  “Not … yet.” Black Wolf’s eyes cracked open.

  “I would recommend you not reveal your identity as a skinwalker,” Arthur advised with some amusement. “You decimated one of the Newe villages.”

  Black Wolf grunted in response.

  “Arthur!” Marshall’s call came from several hundred feet away. “I lost the damn wolf!”

  “Here, Marshall,” Arthur croaked loudly.

  Minutes later, the Cruise heir appeared, trailed by four Natives. Marshall had been provided a change of clothes and carried a satchel across his chest. He reached Arthur and pulled the satchel off to hand to him.

  “I brought their healer and people to carry him,” Marshall reported.

  Arthur reached into the satchel and felt a canteen and something wrapped in canvas. He pulled it out, smelling the food before he opened it and unwrapped it to reveal a thick venison sandwich on flatbread.

  He ate it as fast as he could, oblivious to the movement and discussion going on around him. When he was done, he drank all the water in the canteen and lowered it then threw his head back with a satisfied sigh.

  “I could eat a herd of buffalo,” he said.

  Marshall moved closer to him. “They were reluctant to help. I promised them our fathers would compensate them well.”

  Arthur nodded. “I can imagine our allies are uncomfortable, given the recent events. Skinwalkers, Hanover’s …” He shook his head.

  “The Natives believe your father means to burn the forest down to find his heirs,” Marshall said. “Even our Newe allies are preparing for possible war.”

  Arthur watched the healer strip off the skinwalker’s bandages, clean the wounds, and re-bandage them. Two of the Natives stood waiting with a stretcher.

  “I know you wish to find your sister, but we need to return before your father does something rash,” Marshall urged him. “The Natives claim the smoke from the city is so thick, it hides the city at dawn and dusk, and he is calling in favors from every ally he has to amass weapons and food.”

  Arthur listened, his stomach sinking. Even he did not know what his unpredictable father would do in this circumstance. The Hanover hold on the city would be threatened by the loss of both his children, and the political challenges were likely to mount. Tiana was safe outside the city, as safe as she could be. Arthur could return safely, but Marshall could not, and he would not allow the fiery fate to befall his friend. Not yet, until Arthur had bargained for Marshall’s life or found support among his father’s detractors.

  Arthur glanced down at the pups, which were being cleaned by their mother, then at the men loading the skinwalker onto the stretcher. “We both need rest and food. We can discuss our plans to leave in the morning,” he said, aware Marshall was waiting for his decision.

  “Your sister will be safe. She can take care of herself,” Marshall said, sensing his hesitation.

  Arthur nodded. He did not believe for one second he should abandon Tiana, no matter how many people claimed she had great powers. But neither did he want Marshall’s compassion directed at him. The guilt sliding through him was enough without his friend’s understanding look.

  He moved away from Marshall to gather the pups. The wolf stood and then carefully watched over the men carefully moving her master. Arthur cradled the pups and fell into step behind Marshall, ahead of the stretcher, and behind the Native leading them back towards the village. His stomach growled again, but he did not hear it, not when his mind was raging between telling Marshall the truth and leaving before the Cruise heir could stop him. He could not save his friend and sister unless he reached his father before either of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Aveline awoke ravenous and fevered. Sweat rolled down the sides of her face, and she pushed off the blankets trapping her to the narrow bed. One of her arms was heavy, clumsy, probably wounded, though she experienced no pain anywhere.

  “Finally,” Tiana’s soft exclamation was followed by the touch of her cool palms against Aveline’s cheeks.

  It was not the warmth of her surroundings alone that caused Aveline’s discomfort, but the eerie charge radiating off Tiana, usually present when she used magic or was agitated. Her head throbbed, and her thoughts were laced with the heaviness indicative of some medicines.

  “Air,” Aveline croaked. She opened her eyes – and saw only darkness.

  The charge lessened, and she heard Tiana shift and move around her. Seconds later, a cool breeze touched the exposed skin of her legs and feet.

  “Am I blind?” Aveline asked.

  Tiana laughed. She lifted a cloth off Aveline’s face.

  Aveline blinked rapidly. She didn’t feel hurt or tired – but something was off about her body. Tiana’s smile distracted her. The Hanover girl sported a yellow bruise around one eye and along one cheek and wore the traditional dress of the Native enemies of the city: fleece, fur and leather.

  A Native peered down at Aveline with a sharp, assessing gaze, leaving her with no doubt this was a healer.

  “Can you sit?” the middle-aged woman asked.

  Aveline did so, frowning when she caught herself careening to the side of her heavy arm. She steadied herself and looked around. She was inside a small, round tent that smelled of herbs. The tent flap was pinned open, and she glimpsed the cloudy sky and trees outside.

  She shook off the blanket covering her arm.

  “Wait!” Tiana stretched across her to stop her from flinging off the blanket completely.

  Aveline stilled, but Tiana did not let her go.

  “What do you remember last?” Tiana asked her, black gaze studying her closely.

  Aveline thought back. “Jose, Rocky and I arrived here and … there was a commotion.” Most of her memories were a blur after arriving to the encampment. “I remember feeling hot and sick during our travels and more so when we arrived. Am I diseased? What happened?”

  “You are suffering from a deformity,” the healer said.

  “You transformed into a skinwalker,” Tiana said simultaneously.

  Aveline looked between the two of them. “What?”

  “Half skinwalker,” Tiana corrected herself. “Leaving the city may have caused you to try to transform. But because you are only half skinwalker, you could not transform fully. Your body tried and it almost killed you.”

  Aveline started to laugh. “Have you been reading your fairy tales again?” she asked.

  “No, Aveline. I am very serious,” Tiana said. “But you know what this means? We are both very special. I always knew you were and now I know why.” She appeared pleased.

  “I’m not deformed. I’m not magical. I’m not …” Aveline lifted her heavy arm as she spoke and reached up to scratch her head.

  From the elbow down, her arm resembled that of a bear, down to the massive paw and four inch talons.

  She stared.

  “You have to stay calm!” Tiana said. She hurried around the bed and draped the blanket over her arm again. “You cannot change on your own, but your body tries when you are distressed.”

  Aveline stared at the blanket, unable to believe what she had seen. She began to tense, and panic fluttered through her. As if in response, thick fur crept up her expanding bicep.

  “Calm,” Tiana said again.

  Aveline met her gaze.

  The Hanover girl was not at all alarmed by the sight of her deformed arm.

  “Tiana, what’s wrong with me?” Aveline managed.

  “Nothing,” Tiana said firmly. “We are both special. Did your father or mother not murder a thousand people in three days?”

  Aveline nodded and swallowed hard.

  “This is how. As a skinwalker. You are only half, so you are not transforming fully. When you had nightmares, half of you turned into
a bear and the other half either remained human or turned into a great cat,” Tiana explained. “It was quite confusing for us.”

  Aveline shook off the blanket again and lifted her bear claw. She flexed her hand and then released, dismayed when the bear paw responded to her commands as if it were really her hand. She squeezed it closed.

  “It will make you an even better assassin,” Tiana added. “You can cleave a person in two with one hand.”

  Aveline was silent. Deep down inside, next to the panic subdued by pain medication, was the acknowledgement of what she had always known: she was different. She had spent her life aware of her devil’s blood and the curse she inherited, without ever expecting it to manifest into her physical body.

  “Do you not agree?” Tiana asked. “Your claws are larger than my fingers.” She took the paw in both hand and tugged Aveline’s fist open to display the talons. Aveline felt her cool palms again, this time through the fur and skin of her bear claw.

  It really was her.

  “I guess it will make me more effective,” Aveline allowed. “But how do I live a normal life with this?” She waved the bear paw. “I’m deformed!”

  Tiana’s smile was warm, understanding. Peering into the Hanover girl’s Ghoulish eyes, Aveline realized what she had said.

  “I didn’t mean … Tiana, you’ve always wanted to leave the city anyway, to go somewhere where you would fit in. I just want to stay in Lost Vegas and be like my father,” Aveline said weakly. “I cannot exactly blend into a crowd with a hand like this. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, Tiana, but I don’t want to be deformed.”

  “You did not,” Tiana assured her. “You are appalled to be different, but I am happy not to be alone anymore. I am happy my closest friend is like me. I am the selfish one. I should apologize to you.”

  Tiana Hanover did not have a selfish bone in her body, and Aveline knew it.

  “You can wear a glove,” Tiana suggested.

  This time, Aveline reviewed what she wanted to say before speaking. There was no hiding a deformity this size and no glove that would accommodate four-inch claws. The transformation turned her lower arm from its normal size to the thickness of her thigh. “Maybe,” she said for Tiana’s sake.

  “We are like sisters now,” Tiana said and smiled again.