by Carmen Caine
Even from my position on the pit’s edge, I could smell the burning flesh.
Jacques wouldn’t last long. Not with that much silver hanging around his neck.
"This is not a fight you can win alone.” I heard Jacques’ whisper echo in my mind.
Was he right?
Below me, Emilio reached for another silver chain.
Jacques gave a strangled gasp.
“Such a foolish end,” Emilio clucked, wagging his head as if in disbelief. Reaching over, he caught the wolf pup by the neck and dangled her before Jacques’ face. “And for this useless creature? Why? I cannot fathom. Why did you come for her?”
The wolf pup whimpered, a broken, desperate sound that ripped through me like a torpedo. My fur rose. I saw red. Yeah, I wasn’t her pack. But we were both unwanted. Bonepickers. And we shared the bond of the wolf kin.
Clearly, Jacques still shared it, too.
With a shrug, Emilio tossed the pup over his shoulder, sending her careening into an overturned chair. She squealed as she hit the floor.
Fight, little one! I directed her in my mind. Get up and fight!
Jacques gasped, attempting to lunge, but the silver chains had nearly finished their work on him. He had little flesh left on his bones.
“It’s time, Jacques,” I heard Emilio announce, his voice sounding strangely far away. “It is over between us. Finished. Finito.”
No. It wasn’t finished. It wasn’t finished at all.
I let the wolf inside me loose then.
Emilio had wanted a Wolf of the Mists, hadn’t he?
Well, now, he had one.
Enemy of My Enemy
Spider webs swept across my face as I dropped into the pit, landing lightly on all four paws, but my feet barely touched the ground before I launched myself at Emilio. Since he’d killed my family in their wolf forms, I’d made up my mind long ago to slay him as a wolf.
My fangs dripped with menace as I opened my jaws wide, anticipating the feel of his neck snapping, his bones crunching beneath my teeth. At last, I would avenge the wrongs that had made me a lone wolf, a bonepicker, bereft and tossed about in the Reaches without a pack. In minutes, I would feast upon his heart.
I took him unawares. He never saw the danger hurtling his way in the darkness behind him.
I sank my teeth into the back of his neck, twisting my head to rip his flesh and sever his veins. His skin tore easily and a hot rush of blood flooded my mouth.
But this was not vampire blood. It was poison. It burned my tongue like acid. I gasped, unable to breath as the poison fell into my throat like Liquid Drano.
So, was this how he’d killed my pack? With poison? What manner of creature was he?
I collapsed to the floor with a guttural groan, clawing at my mouth, my throat almost swollen shut in mere seconds and my only thought an astonished one: how could he disable me so easily? I fed on carrion!
“And what is this?” I heard Emilio’s soft hiss of surprise.
The poison already pumped through my veins now, rendering my limbs immobile. I dropped my muzzle between my paws, unable to support my head any longer. Would my vision go next? I felt numb.
Emilio’s boot appeared an inch from my nose. I heard the rustle of his clothing as he knelt by my side. Helpless, I could only watch as his hand descended to grab my muzzle and yanking my head back, he forced my eyes to meet his.
At last, I met the gaze of the one who had murdered my family, my pack. Funny. I’d never dreamt of it this way. I’d never once thought I’d be helpless in his hands. I never dreamt I could fail.
The vampire—or whatever he truly was—studied my face, the flickering torchlight reflecting in his oddly colorless eyes. Refusing to give in, I memorized every inch of his face. Olive skin. Straight, classic Italian nose. Dark hair. He looked like a man in his prime, but I could see he was ancient, even older than Jacques lying still and now quiet, only a few yards away.
“So, one of Balor’s kin escaped my scourge,” he observed, his eyes glittering with delight. “Fortunato. Most fortunate—for us both.”
I couldn’t move my tongue to frame a reply, but I did manage a low, weak growl of dissent.
Emilio’s eyes crinkled in the corners. “Oh, you will do as I say, Wolf of the Mists,” he stated. “Your mother refused to cower before me, un idiota, battling me to the bitter end. Yet, it was I who drank my fill of her blood before I let the rest spill into the white snow.” Closing his eyes, he lifted his chin and shivered as if in ecstasy.
His words hurt more than the poison burning my gut, kicking me hard in the stomach as if they’d been delivered by his boot. My jaws opened and a deep growl erupted from the very bottom of my soul.
I didn’t stand a chance.
He punched me so hard in the jaw that I really did lose my vision. With a snort, he rose to his feet and picking me up as if I weighed no more than a pillow, dashed me hard against the ground.
A metal table leg struck the back of my skull. Pain, sharp and vivid, lanced through my head. I heard the yelp of an injured wolf. Had I really made that sound? I lay in agony where I fell, no more than a miserable heap of fur on the floor.
“Farewell, Wolf of the Mists,” Emilio’s voice hissed somewhere in the darkness above me. “Soon. Soon, we will meet.”
And just like that he vanished.
I couldn’t move. I tried to get up but my throbbing, aching body refused to obey.
I heard a whimper a few yard away and glanced over to see the wolf pup slinking my way.
“Run, bonepicker,” I ordered the tawny scruff of fur through the wolf kindred mind link. “I’m not your pack. There’s nothing for you here. Run before they come back.” I lifted the corner of my lip to expose a fang. That should scare her away.
Only it didn’t.
She scooted across the floor, closing the distance between us in a flash to lick my face with her tiny pink tongue.
Puppy breath.
“Damn it, kid,” I snapped, vaguely aware I shouldn’t really be swearing at a kid, even mildly. “I’m serious. Out. Go. Vamoose.”
She cowered.
Good. We were getting somewhere.
Feeling a little guilty over my intense gruffness, I strove for a slightly nicer tone, but not much. “Run,” I said. “Sometimes wolves have to run. It’s too dangerous for you to hang around here now. Flee. Go.”
Big mistake on altering my tone, even that much of a smidgeon. She took it as a summons to resume washing my face.
I snarled and calling my deepest growl, gnashed my teeth in direct warning, following it up in an outright roar of, “You don’t belong with me. Out of here. And now! I’m not the kind that forms ties.”
That was the understatement of the year. I was outright allergic to relationships and commitment in any of its form.
She sank to the floor and stayed there, burying her nose in her paws until I’d run through my entire repertoire of snapping, snarling, and growling, accompanied by a downright magnificent display of every fang and tooth I possessed. As poisoned as I was, it was still nasty and probably would have scared even most vampires away.
As my last roar faded in the darkness around us, she wormed her way back to my head and began licking my nose once again. “Brandy,” she whispered, her voice timid, soft and oh so shy, so young and barely able to even form the words in my mind. “My name is Brandy.”
I stared at her in astonishment. Was she really that young, that desperate to mistake my snarling and barking as some kind of pack acceptance? “I’m a bonepicker,” I explained in a low bass of a rumble. “You’re a bonepicker. We are lone wolves. We don’t hang out together. Scram.”
I realized then that I was standing on all four paws. I blinked, startled. Maybe the fits of temper boiled the poison away. Tossing my head back, I roared, snarling and snapping, sounding more like a lion than a wolf.
Vitality returned, coursing through me. Breathing deeply, I shook every inch of my fur from snout to
tail, relieved to feel my strength flowing back.
I spared the wolf pup one last order in gratitude. “Get out of here,” I snapped, not quite as harsh as before. After all, if she hadn’t irritated me so much, I might have taken much longer to recover—if ever.
I glanced over to where Jacques lay, eyes closed. He didn’t move. The silver clearly minutes away from burning through his ribcage. The instant it touched his heart, he would be no more.
I grimaced. I’d need hands to rescue him. I shifted into human form, finding the transition harder than usual. My shoulder burned. My little run-in with Emilio had seriously aggravated my injury as well as introducing a new bump on the back of my head. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I stalked to where Jacques lay and began pulling the silver off his almost unrecognizable body.
“Why are you doing this, Raven?” I spat under my breath, yanking the chains away. “He’s a vampire.”
Maybe it was an enemy of my enemy thing. I’d never befriended a vampire before, but then, I’d never before met one with the heart of a wolf.
He was in pretty bad shape. Long, red and open wounds laced his chest, almost severing his neck. He looked like a zombie from a horror movie. Yet I’d scarcely tossed the last chain into the pile before his flesh began to heal, closing the gashes.
Mere seconds later, his dark lashes fluttered open.
“This isn’t a battle you can fight alone,” I said, sourly tossing his words back at him.
His lip quirked into a lopsided smile. “Sometimes, wolves have to run, ma belle louve,” he started out whispering but his voice grew stronger with each word. “It’s too dangerous for you to hang around here now. Flee. Go.”
I instantly recognized my own words—sans ma belle louve, of course. “You’re a vampire,” I blurted, shocked. How could he eavesdrop on the wolf kindred?
“Once a wolf, my dear, always a wolf,” he replied, dropping a hand over his heart.
The gesture only served to draw my attention to his now entirely healed chest. The silver had burned through his shirt, leaving it in tatters on the floor and his ripped, chiseled abs on prime display. Damn, but he was temptation itself, an enticing mix of lean muscle, mystery, and seduction.
He sat up, and I could tell from his smug expression that he’d followed my thoughts.
Feeling at a distinct disadvantage, I snapped, “I won’t stop you from running then, wolf. Go ahead. I’ve got business to finish here.”
He grinned, rising to his feet now in the full picture of health. “I owe you a debt,” he said, executing an elegant bow that strangely did not seem out of place even in this century. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jacques LeBeau, and I will forever be at your service. How may I address you, ma belle louve?”
I hesitated, knowing if I gave him my name I’d invite him into my life. My pulse leapt at the thought even as cold logic informed me I’d need him to defeat our common enemy of Emilio. “Raven,” I said, and then to keep him at arm’s length and remind myself as well, I added, “Bonepicker.” I didn’t need this sexy of a distraction in my life. Now or ever.
“Ah, Raven.” The way my name rolled off his tongue made the hair on the back of my neck shiver in delight.
That wouldn’t do.
I scowled to shut him up and dusting my clothes, turned on the wolf pup slinking around my heels. “Don’t stay here,” I told her, refusing to use her name lest she think I was keeping her. “Now’s your chance to escape. Good luck.” Facing Jacques, I gave him a curt nod. “Adios. See you around.”
He nodded with a gleam of distinct amusement lurking in his dark eyes.
I spun on my heel and refusing to look back, climbed out of the pit.
I’d have to table chasing Emilio for now. As much as I hated to, I knew if I wanted to win that I had to discover what he was in order to defeat him. But I’d made remarkable progress. This morning I had nothing but a vague memory to go on. Now, I knew his name, his daughter, and that he wasn’t all vampire. Obviously, defeating him would take time.
But right now?
Right now, I had a job to finish, a witch to mark. Maybe if I did the job well, I could pry some info about Emilio out of Lord Lucian Rowle. Lord Rowle just looked like the kind of guy who’d know things.
I strode down the cow tunnel, following Anya’s trail back towards the parking garage.
The spiders had returned to writhe en masse under the steel grating embedded in the hallway floor. My lips drew back in disgust. My dislike for the creatures had only intensified in the past few hours. Melting into my wolf form, I parted my lips and howled. They obliged me by falling asleep at once, and as their bodies fell into mesmerized heaps on the cement floor, I returned to my human form.
“Yeah, not liking this,” I grunted, my boots making the most obnoxious squishing sounds as I headed for the ladder leading up to the parking garage.
I’d nearly reached the top when I heard her soft whimper.
I froze.
Don’t look back, Raven. Don’t look back.
But of course, I did.
There she was. The wolf pup, Brandy. Nervously pacing back and forth at the edge of the spider mound.
“Don’t follow me,” I barked with a scowl.
She whined, putting one tiny paw into the spider heap before jerking back out again.
I scowled. “You’re a bonepicker,” I informed her gruffly. “It’s going to get a hella lot worse than spiders.”
She tried again, making two paws this time before giving up to nervously slink back and forth at the perimeter once again.
Gritting my teeth, I turned away and climbed another step. She wasn’t my responsibility. I was a bonepicker. A lone wolf.
Period.
She gasped then, a tiny huff of puppy breath.
The heartbroken sound tore into me like a knife.
Swearing, I glanced back again.
The moment our eyes made contact, she ran for me. Screeching the entire way, jumping straight-legged through the mounds of many-eyed bodies like she had pogo sticks on her paws.
It was pricelessly comical, and in spite of the stress and horror of the past few hours—along with my crusty, hard-bitten heart—I couldn’t help but grin.
When she arrived at the bottom run, I gave in. “Fine,” I grunted, climbing back down to swoop her up by the scruff of the neck. “I’ll lift you out of here, but that’s it. You can’t stay with me. We’re bonepickers.” Her tail began to wag and her tongue headed suspiciously my direction but I put a stop to that and quick. “No licking,” I scowled. “You’re not staying.”
Keeping her at arm’s length, I climbed out of the cow tunnel, set her on the floor and promptly forgot about her.
Anya’s trail led out through the door.
I frowned.
My luck that she’d already hopped into her car and disappeared into the New York City night, leaving me back at square one. Not good if I wanted to impress the English dude.
Kicking the door open, I emerged to sniff the air, pleasantly surprised to find Anya’s scent hanging fresh in the air, strong and heavy.
With my senses on high alert, I let my nose guide me, taking me up the stairs to the same level I’d parked my motorcycle.
I saw her then. Sitting in a black Mercedes SUV, slouched down behind the wheel and talking on her cellphone.
Nice. I couldn’t believe my luck.
For a brief moment, her gray eyes zoomed in on me through the SUV window before casually glancing away.
Right. She still didn’t know I was on her tail.
I strode across the parking garage to my bike and flipping the cargo hatch open, foraged around a bit for a hairband and pulled my hair back into a fresh, tight ponytail.
The SUV’s engine purred to life.
From under my brows, I watched her pull out and head for the parking garage exit.
Snapping my cargo hatch shut, I hopped on my bike and pulled up behind her as she stopped to pay the attendant
. As she drove away, I tossed the dude a wad of cash and followed.
Good. Game back on. Now, it was time to bring it home.
Mission Complete
I followed Anya as she turned out onto Park Avenue, heading towards the Upper East Side. Night had fallen. I’d lost a good chunk of time below ground. We hit a red light and I idled behind her SUV, watching the pedestrians clustered outside the Lenox Hill Hospital move across the street like a herd of cows. I grinned. Little did they know that vampires, werewolves, and the like ran right under their feet in tunnels they didn’t even know existed.
The light changed and we began to move. I took the opportunity to zip ahead of Anya, not wanting to tip her off to the fact she had a tail. I caught a glimpse of her from the corner of my eye as I passed. She sat in the driver’s seat, waving her hands and shouting angrily, apparently still on the phone.
I rode ahead of her a few blocks, waiting until she switched lanes to fall behind her again. I needn’t have bothered with the precautions. She was pretty oblivious to her surroundings. As she passed me, I saw she hadn’t hung up yet. She was still shouting. This went on for about another mile before she turned left and drove straight to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, standing out like a beacon of light against the dark backdrop of Central Park.
She pulled up to the side of the building and stopped next to the security booth as a blue-shirted guard stepped out to meet her. Hopping out of her SUV, she tossed him the keys. To my surprise, he caught them and played the valet, sliding into the driver’s seat as she headed for the double side doors right behind the security booth.
Traffic forced me to move, but I found parking along the next street and easing in between two cars, cut the motorcycle’s engine. I could track Anya easier now since she was on foot. Unbuckling my helmet, I unlocked my cargo bin to toss it in when my gaze caught a scruff of tawny fur, curled into the tiniest ball possible, obviously in the hopes I wouldn’t see her.
I scowled.
“You’re a sneaky one,” I accused the errant wolf pup, although I couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed. I grabbed her and dropped her onto the cement. “What don’t you understand about being a bonepicker, kid? We don’t have packs. We’re on our own. We die alone. Get it? You can’t trust me. Don’t hang around me. Okay?”