by Lynn Lorenz
"God's hell, you bitch." The groaning was louder now.
The wet sucking grew faster and the creaking of the bed matched its rhythm with the thrusting of hips.
At last, the man cried out as he spilled. It must have been good and hard, for the moan lasted a long time.
Stefan's rod was hard and throbbing. Pushing thoughts of his own release from his mind and telling himself his reaction was due to his need for the services of a whore, he continued to listen.
"Thanks, love." The young man stood; the bed creaked. "You're a pro. Lots of practice, huh?"
Stefan heard the sound of him dragging up his breeches and pulling his laces tight.
"It's your turn now, pet."
"Mine? What d'you want 'tween your legs?" The man took several steps. "Hand, rod, or tongue? Each'll do."
"You promised me your soul."
"Did I? Not worth much." The man laughed. Obviously, he wasn't taking her seriously.
"To the Sorcerer, it's worth much."
"'nother time. I'm going, unless we fuck."
"You must come with me to meet him and join with his clan. You said you wanted power."
"Look. Played the game. Offered you a tumble. Talk of souls is boring." His voice rose in anger. "Let's fuck or get lost."
There was a word Stefan had never heard before, yet he clearly understood the meaning.
"This is no game." Cordelia's voice rose in anger.
Stefan's mind raced as he began putting his ideas into place. Sarah's voice echoed in his head. "He's either been trained in off-world methods, or he's from off-world." Now that he thought about it, he'd heard the man's abrupt manner of speech before.
Closing his eyes, he leaned again against the hearing glass. They were still arguing.
"Hands off, bitch. Got what I wanted. I'm going." The man strode across the floor and opened the door. "Never interested in the Sorcerer or his power."
"You bastard!" Cordelia was furious. "We had a deal."
Stefan laughed silently. She'd been taken by someone smarter and more cavalier. The man had gotten what he wanted, and Cordelia was the one left empty-handed.
Stefan's estimation of the man grew.
The door slammed shut. Stefan moved to the door of his room and listened as boots strode down the hall to the stairs.
He made his decision. Slipping the glass back into his pocket, he cracked open the door, checked the hall, and followed the man down the stairs.
* * * *
"Firestone!" Stefan sat on the bed and toed off his boots.
The red-haired addler appeared. "You're back late. It's almost morning."
"I was following a man, but lost him in the back alleys of Reynold's Grange, damn it. That place is worse than a rabbit's warren. I thought I had him cornered in a dead end alley, but when I reached it, he was gone." Stefan stood and unbuttoned his shirt.
"Vanished, did he?"
"Probably teleported, but I didn't feel it." He shrugged and tossed the shirt to Firestone.
"Clean these, sir?"
"Aye, they've still got some life in them." He hung his hat on a rack holding a dozen hats, caps, and scarves and then began unlacing his breeches. As they fell to the floor, he stepped out of them, pushed off his drawers and, naked, flopped onto the bed.
"When should I wake you, sir?" Firestone peered over the top of the clothes bundled in his arms.
"Before noon meal. I need to write my report." Stefan flung his arm over his face and let out a breath.
"Are you feeling better today, sir?"
Raising his arm, he peered at the small man. "The headache is gone." At the concern on Firestone's face, Stefan added, "Don't worry, it won't happen again."
"I should hope not. Stay away from her, sir, because she's nothing but trouble." Stefan could hear the anger in the small man's voice. Misdirected anger. He should be the one the addler was mad at, not Sarah.
The arm lowered. "She's the best thing I've ever thrown away, Firestone." Stefan rolled onto his side, faced the wall, and pulled the quilt up to his shoulder.
The addler stared at his charge, shook his head, and 'ported away.
* * * *
Rolf held Luci's carpetbag as they waited for the coach to Avea to arrive.
"You're sure you don't want me to have an addler 'port you there?" He lowered the bag to the ground.
"I prefer the coach. Teleporting over great distances always gives me a headache." Luci offered him a smile. She'd been quiet during the ride to Chester, and Rolf wasn't sure what to say.
They'd agreed to write and on occasion to visit, but had left a lot unsaid. Now, those words not yet spoken hung between them.
Luci's head tilted. "Hear it? The coach is coming."
Rolf's ears picked up the creaking of the harnesses and the horses hooves pounding the dirt in the distance. He looked into her eyes and saw sadness.
"Luci."
She turned away from him and watched the road. "Aye?"
The coach would appear at any moment, then she'd be gone.
Rolf reached out and took her hand, pulling him to her, and tilted her chin up. Looking into her eyes, he leaned in for a soft kiss. "I want you to know if nothing comes of this, if we can't be together..."
Luci tried to look away, but he took her face in her hands. It was now, or perhaps never.
"Luci, I'm trying to tell you I love you. I know it's insane, we've just met, and yet I am more certain of that one fact than anything else I know."
Luci's eyes swam with tears and she smiled. "No, not insane. I feel it, too, my beast. If you decide to remain alone, it will be your decision, not mine, and know that I love you, too, and will until my last breath."
She closed her eyes as he held her face and kissed her. The thought of leaving her, of never seeing her again, constricted his chest and made it hard to breathe.
Could he give her up? Should he? Now was not the time to make that decision. Not while he held her in his arms, tasted her lips, and could smell her intoxicating scent. It was a decision to make when he was rational, clear-headed, and alone.
The coach appeared, swinging onto the high street and people began to gather on the street around them. The noise from the horses, harnesses, and men driving the coach roared around them, but they were alone, wrapped in each other's arms.
"Will you write to me?" Rolf held her away from him.
"Every week." Luci smiled. "Will you think of me?"
"Every moment of every day, until we're together."
The coachman and driver were helping people off and retrieving baggage from the rear of the coach.
Someone called, "Boarding," and Rolf picked up her bag and carried it to the rear, handing it to the coachman. Luci waited for Rolf to help her up and she took a seat next to the window. The large cabin held four benches, two at the ends facing in and two in the middle facing out, and they weren't quite filled.
Luci leaned out of the window and took Rolf's hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it.
"My beast." She smiled.
"Your beast, always." He dropped her hand, the door slammed shut, and the driver cracked the whip. The coach pulled away, Luci waved once, and then disappeared inside.
Rolf watched as the coach left the village and turned down the main road to Avea until he could breathe again.
Rolf flicked open his mirror and called for an addler to come and drive the carriage back to the castle.
There was work to be done. He 'ported away.
* * * *
Kneeling in the soft dirt next to the stream, Rolf cupped his hands and took a long drink of the fresh water. It had taken him over an hour to walk this far from the road. Sitting back on his heels, he looked around and wondered how many times he'd drank from this stream when he lived here in the woods?
Now he was back, watching the deadfall where the rapist had kept his victims. At first, Rolf thought it was just the latest girl, but the more he stared at his map and the more he remembered
the carefully prepared place he'd found, the more he was convinced the man had brought all his victims there.
He began walking toward the deadfall. As he neared it, he stopped and scented the air. Nothing. He moved closer, circling around to the hidden opening.
Rolf waited, crouched behind the underbrush, and listened. For nearly an hour, he stayed quiet. When he was sure no one was there, he crept out, dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through the low opening.
Damn.
An unfamiliar scent hit him. That bastard had been here recently. Rolf, sniffing as he walked, circled the perimeter of the clearing, his eyes searching for anything new.
In ever-smaller circles, Rolf crept closer to the four saplings, the scraps of cloth bindings still tied to them, the blood still on leaves. Everything looked as it had when he'd discovered the place.
Rolf froze. Just in front of him was a footprint that hadn't been there before. He was careful to make sure it was the only one. He crouched down, and placed his own boot next to it. His foot was at least two inches larger. A man smaller than me, he thought. He touched the impression on the mud with his fingertip. Still damp. He could have been here earlier this morning.
He sniffed the air, memorizing the scent. Perhaps he could identify the man if he ever scented him again. What were the odds they'd ever meet? If he were a betting man, like Stefan, he wouldn't risk a coin on it.
He sniffed the air and followed the scent trail. It stopped just at the edge of the clearing.
Well, the bastard can teleport, Rolf thought. Not many people had that skill. Could he assume the man wasn't a poor district local? Was he one of the landed gentry with the money and education to learn such a skill? There weren't too many gentry around here when compared to the numbers of local farmers.
With a clench of his gut, a sickening thought hit him. Could he be a patroller? They were trained to teleport in their two years at the academy. Stun spells, levitation, and teleportation were all taught at the academy and had all been used to kidnap the girls.
Not wanting to believe it, Rolf didn't go through the men and women at Avalon. No point. It couldn't possibly be one of them, could it? He had to make sure.
He'd go through the duty rosters on the days the girls were attacked and see if he found any coincidences or discrepancies. Just to set his mind at ease. If it was a patroller committing the crimes and using dark majik, Rolf certainly owed him no loyalty. In fact, it was his sworn duty to rid the patrol of this man. No matter who it might be.
Rolf dropped to his hands and knees and crawled out of the deadfall, stood and brushed off his trousers. He walked back through the woods until he found the road, then pulled his wand and 'ported back to Avalon.
Chapter 20
Sarah raised her head from her book when she heard the soft rap on her door. Rolf stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"Rolf, come in."
"Sarah, I hope I'm not disturbing you."
She motioned for him to sit. He plopped into the chair, crossed his legs at the ankles, and slung his arm over the back of the chair.
"Not at all. Don't tell me you're here to take lessons? I tried to pin down Reilly, but he mumbled some excuse about a case and ran off." She laughed.
"No. However, I am interested. Can you show me some of the techniques later?"
"Of course. I have extra classes right now, preparing for this contest Thatcher's set up. We only have a few days left to practice." She made a wry face.
"I understand there's some wagering going on." Rolf's eyes lit up as he scratched the side of his nose.
"Well, it wouldn't be a patrol match if there wasn't. Now what is it I can do for you?" She sat back and closed her book.
"I never thanked you for bringing Luci here, did I?"
"You can thank me at the wedding."
Rolf shifted in his seat and swallowed. He then ran his hand through his hair, cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable, to say the least.
"Don't tell me you're breaking it off with Luci. Rolf, it will break her heart." Sarah stood and came around the desk to kneel next to him.
"Sarah, I love her. I want her more than anything, but it's too dangerous." He shook his head. "I can't let my selfishness get in the way of protecting her."
Sarah sat back on her heels and frowned. Then she stood and leaned against her desk. "Rolf, you're a fool, just like Stefan."
"What?" Rolf looked at her with his mouth open.
"What is it with you men, thinking you have to protect us? In case you haven't noticed, we women are a lot stronger than you men. We're the ones who carry a baby for nine months, go through the pain of labor, and then gladly do it again. We tend homes, care for and raise children, work at our jobs or in the fields, and then have to put up with you lot." She shook her head.
"But Luci isn't a patroller, Sarah. She's a...lady." Rolf struggled to make sense.
"That's right, she is. A lady who just happens to be a rare shape shifter, hosts the soul of a wolf, and has been on her own, despite the wishes of her family, for ten years. Luci knows what you are and what you aren't, Rolf. And she loves you both because of it and despite it."
Rolf took a breath and looked up. "I know she loves me."
"Then don't do to her what Stefan did to me. Don't treat her like someone who doesn't know her own mind, or can't understand the risks she takes or worse, discard her as if she meant nothing to you. You should be at the chapel every day, lighting a candle and saying a prayer of thanks that Luci loves you." Sarah walked back to her chair and sat.
Rolf was silent for a long time. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a letter, and placed it on her desk.
"What's this?" Sarah pointed to the letter. "Your 'Dear Luci, I don't really love you' letter?"
He nodded.
"If you send that letter, it'll destroy you both, Rolf."
"I know." He put his head in his hands. "I don't deserve her."
"That's beside the point. You're both in love. At the same time. That doesn't come along every day, Rolf. Perhaps once in a lifetime, if you're lucky. Don't throw it away."
Rolf looked up, and Sarah saw the pain in his eyes. His expression changed and, with a sigh of what could only be relief, he reached for the letter and ripped it in half. Sarah let out her breath and smiled.
"I think a new letter is called for, don't you, Rolf?"
"Aye." He stood, came around the desk, pulled Sarah out of the chair, and hugged her to him. "For my part, Stefan is a fool. Thank you."
Then he released her and left.
Sarah grinned and sat down again. Picking up her book, she tried to read, but after losing her place twice, she closed her eyes. As always, Stefan's face was all she could see and his kiss was all she could feel.
If she could only sleep, she'd feel better.
* * * *
Stefan watched as Chief Inspector Harrow of Litton Station and his ten men arrived, dressed in full battle gear, to face the officers of Avalon. Their leather arm vambraces were stamped with their station's symbol, an eagle, and each wore a dark gray traveling cloak with a silver eagle clasp. They stood at ease on the sidelines, booted feet slightly apart, and hands clasped behind their backs.
Stefan hoped Sarah and Thatcher knew what they were doing having this contest. Harrow's men were seasoned patrollers and well trained. They'd be a hard force to beat.
The best of Sarah's trainees, eight men and two women, stood opposite them across the field. She allowed the women tie up their hair and wear uniform trousers and boots instead of their long skirts. From a distance, it was hard to tell whether they were women or small men.
Her strategy might be cause for concern. Women usually didn't participate in these contests, and Stefan was sure Harrow would call them on it and force a forfeit.
He had to admit, the Avalon team looked just as smart as Litton's team, if a little nervous. The symbol of Avalon Patrol, a forest bear, had been worked on the leather of their arm va
mbraces. They wore their silver bear clasps to bind their cloaks, which were tossed rakishly back over one shoulder. Looks, however, as he well knew, were not proof of skill.
Between Thatcher and Harrow, they had decided to hold the competition in the large open field behind the castle late in the afternoon. From the gathering crowd, it seemed to Stefan that every patroller not on duty from both stations attended.
Stefan stood just off Thatcher's right side, as second-in-command. Rolf, standing next to Stefan, leaned over. "I miss these days, Stefan, when we used to participate in the challenges."
Stefan nodded. "One of the disadvantages of getting your pins, I'm afraid. We can no longer play games."
"But we can still wager. Five gold our side takes them." His smile grew decidedly wolfish.
"You're on." The men clasped hands to seal the wager.
Thatcher, accompanied by Mercy Loch, stepped up to the sidelines, and Stefan and Rolf followed.
"We have a disadvantage, sir. The sun is in our eyes." Stefan glanced at Thatcher.
"Yes, I had to give them that." Thatcher confidently waved away the worry. "Not to worry. Sarah assures me it will not matter."
Mercy shook her head. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you, Damon?"
"Oh, yes. William Harrow and I go back a long way. It will be good to rub his nose in this." Thatcher rocked on his heels, his hands behind his back.
Sarah stood with her team. Unlike her female team members, she wore her skirt, and it moved about her legs as she paced.
By the One God, she looked beautiful and determined, even though Stefan thought she looked a bit stretched. She'd been avoiding looking at him. They hadn't spoken since the night he came to her room drunk. He should have sought her out the next day and apologized, but his shame and anger at himself kept him from it.
She'd never taken back her oath to him, and he'd not asked again, so now he existed in some hellish limbo, unsure of even solid ground beneath his once steady feet.
He could hear Sarah give her team their instructions and he hung on the sound of her voice like a lovesick puppy. This had to stop. He'd made his decision. Right, he chided himself. Just like last time and he'd wound up kissing her in the moonlight, asking to come to her bed, and demanding her oath.