Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  Feeling foolish—after all, her hunches were sometimes wrong—Aislinn glanced sidelong at the wolf, and she readied herself to leave. It wouldn’t do to tarry in case the shades changed their minds.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “I am not a Hunter. You’ve made a mistake.”

  The wolf rose lazily to its feet, lush tail swishing. “I never make mistakes. Include me in your spell. If you do not, the Hunter Covenant gives me the right to kill you.”

  The wolf stalked to her, and she saw it was male. Aislinn culled through her memory banks for what she knew about Hunters and their animals. Humans with Hunter skills were the most adept at finding the enemy—and killing them. Somehow, the blend of animal magic boosted whatever the human brought to the table. She couldn’t remember what happened to humans who refused an animal bond. Who knew? Maybe rejection did give the wolf the right to kill her.

  Covenant or not, it didn’t pay to get off on the wrong foot. She’d never tolerated being bullied and wasn’t about to start now. “Now see here.” She hunkered so their gazes met directly. “No threats.”

  He just looked at her, tongue lolling.

  “Great,” she muttered and expanded her casting to bring wolfie-boy along. “Ghost army, talking wolf. What the hell else will I find between here and Taltos?”

  Chapter 3

  Aislinn brought them down in the ruins of Salt Lake City—an asphalt nightmare. She’d been aiming for her old neighborhood and the bomb shelter her father and some of his friends had hogged out under their home in the nineteen eighties. She was tired and knew she needed food and sleep before she could travel again. So far, wolfie hadn’t been any trouble, but it took almost double the magic to move both of them. She’d felt power from the civet. If wolfie had any, he was doing a fine job hiding it. She did some quick calculations. The four days that had seemed generous now seemed as if they might not be quite enough.

  The wolf morphed into being next to her and made a whuffy noise, midway between a whine and a snarl. “Where have you brought us? Nothing to hunt here but corpses.” He wrinkled his nose in lupine disgust.

  Ignoring his question, she asked, “Do you have a name?”

  He gazed at her with interest. “Why?”

  “So I have something to call you besides wolfie?”

  “Rune will do.”

  She rolled the name around in her mind. It chimed sourly. Raising her eyebrows, she looked at him. “That’s not your name.”

  “Names have power. Even you should know that, human.”

  Biting off a sarcastic retort, she said, “Just make sure no one follows us.”

  Feeling thoroughly chastised, and by a wolf no less, she trotted in the direction of the house she used to live in, leading them across a rubble-filled alleyway, through a culvert, and finally underground, down badly decomposed steps. Many were missing, and she stumbled, catching herself on what was left of the handrail. The doorway was still in place, right along with the punch code lock. She keyed in seven-seven-four-three, and the door swung inward.

  Aislinn stepped inside with Rune at her heels. As soon as his tail cleared the door, she pushed it shut and sank into a dusty chair. It was dark as pitch with the door closed, but she didn’t need to see. The smell in the small enclosure reminded her of her father, and tears rose, threatening to spill over.

  “Your pack lived here.”

  Wondering how he could possibly know that, but too weary to puzzle it out, her eyes fluttered shut.

  When she opened them, she knew she’d slept, but not very long. She was hungry and thirsty, but rested enough. Rune had curled his body around her chair. She felt his fur, soft against her ankles, and the heat rising off his body. For some inexplicable reason, his nearness brought a smile to her face. Now that her eyes had adapted to the dark, she could see threads of light filtering around the door where it no longer fit tightly in its frame.

  “Time to hunt?” he asked, stretching out one paw at a time once he’d gotten to his feet.

  She nodded, rising. “There used to be food here. Let me look.” She called light—a glowing rose orb—into being. It followed after her like an obedient puppy.

  Since the combination lock served as a decent deterrent, quite an array of canned goods remained. Most likely all of them. Beckoning her light closer, she peered at a can of Hormel corned beef hash. Then she laughed. “Use by September nineteen ninety-nine, huh?” She poked at the can. It seemed intact. The lids on either end weren’t pooched out like they’d have been once botulism set in. Returning to the cans, she got peaches, green beans, Vienna sausage, and the can of hash. The can opener still hung by its hook on the side of the cabinet. She grabbed it, too.

  Rune waited by her chair, his ears pricked forward. She waggled the can of hash at him. “Interested?”

  “I don’t think so.” He wrinkled his nose. “Whatever’s in there died a long time ago.”

  “Well, try some. It will save time.” Using the opener, she removed the lid and upended the can on the packed dirt floor. The wolf nosed it, shrugged his furry shoulders, and began to eat. Hesitant at first, once he’d taken a couple bites, he snarfed down the rest.

  She went to work on the beans and sausage, eating with her fingers. Everything tasted okay. She saved the peaches with their sticky syrup for last. “Go capitalism,” she muttered, popping the last peach into her mouth. The canned good manufacturers probably underestimated the shelf life of their products on purpose to make people buy more. She looked around the twelve by twelve subterranean space. It had been underneath their kitchen. In addition to the faded, corduroy easy chair, there was a card table with four chairs, shelves built into every wall, and hooks for a kerosene lantern. Her father hadn’t been sure there’d be enough ventilation to use it for very long, but two five-gallon tins of kerosene sat in one corner, along with their battered Coleman lantern and a supply of mantles she was certain had long since turned to dust.

  Her family. This was the last of what was left of them and their home. Not very fucking much. Resisting an urge to sift through the rubble above to see if she could find anything else, she set the peach can on the floor. The bomb shelter had been built before she was born. She remembered playing down here on hot summer days when the temperature climbed into the nineties in Salt Lake.

  Rune’s voice broke into her memories. “I thought we were in a hurry, human.”

  “Yes.” She shot out of the chair as if the wolf had bitten her, disgusted with herself for her unauthorized trip into yesterday-land. “We are.”

  “Where are we going?”

  She pulled the door open, withdrew the magic supporting her light, and cocked her head to one side. “Can you help when we travel?”

  “Certainly. You did not ask.”

  Certainly, her inner voice mimicked. As if I knew I had to.

  “Well,” she ventured, aiming for a neutral tone, “I’d really appreciate it. We have a long way to go.”

  “I need to know our destination.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Rune, who’d started up the stairs, whipped his body around. Golden wolf eyes glared down at her, glinting amber in the low light. “I am your bond animal. There are no secrets between us.”

  “I shouldn’t have a bond animal,” she argued, pushing past him up the steps. “I already told you. I’m not a Hunter.”

  “Yes,” he insisted, “you are.”

  They were still quarreling when they emerged into daylight. Realizing too late that she should’ve been more cautious, she scattered magic in a full circle, seeking threats.

  “I already checked,” Rune informed her haughtily. “If there had been danger, I would not have allowed you above ground.”

  Aislinn rolled her eyes. Not only did she have a talking wolf who was convinced he was bonded to her, now the wolf had decided he was her guardian angel. Ignoring him, she began setting up her magic so they could leave. Spell mostly in place, she whistled for Rune. He was faci
ng away from her, sniffing something fifty feet away. He didn’t turn around. “Rune,” she hissed, struggling to contain the spell. It tugged at her, ready to launch itself. “We’re ready.”

  He swiveled his head to look back at her over one shoulder. “Oh,” he inquired caustically, “are we?”

  “Fine.” She threw up her hands, and her spell lost its punch. Christ, but she hated to waste magic. “Did you decide you’re not coming?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned to face her.

  She opened her mouth to answer, and then it fell open. “You just answered me,” she sputtered. “And not in mind speech.”

  “All bond animals can talk,” Rune informed her. “But only to our bonded one or others with the Hunter gift.” His voice was deep and rumbly, like a friendly grizzly bear might sound.

  Aislinn sank to a convenient piece of concrete. “Look.” She held out her hands. “I have no training in Hunter magic. Zero. Zip. Zilch. I’m a Mage with weak Seeker ability. At least, that’s what I thought I was. Also, I’m used to working alone. I like it that way. That doesn’t make me very good partner material.”

  Rune walked a bit closer. He hung his head. “You probably should know my last human was killed in a Bal’ta raid led by Tokhots. I tried to protect her, but she did not listen to me. I killed all those godless whelps, except Tokhots, that murdered my bonded one, but Tokhots vanished as soon as the first few Bal’ta died.” The wolf’s lower jaw quivered. He threw back his head and one long, low, anguished howl burst from him. “You were the first Hunter I’ve come across since her death. I listened outside that cabin while you bargained with the dead. I liked what I heard.” The wolf hesitated for a long time before his next words. “If you truly do not want me, I will seek another. I do not want a forced bond. Even though the laws say I could kill you for refusing me, I would not do that.”

  Oh, God. What do I do now?

  The wolf’s distress was so palpable, it seared her, but he was proud, too. She could see it in the determined set of his shoulders. She’d never wanted to hurt anyone. In that moment, she understood on a visceral level that she’d chased away the possibility of support—and love—to shield herself. Aislinn felt ashamed. What had Travis said? We’ve all lost a lot…Something like that. She’d used her losses as an excuse to check out of life. Drifting from assignment to assignment, she’d never let herself think too deeply about anything.

  Guess I assumed I’d be killed sooner or later.

  Scooting over, she hunkered next to Rune and held out a hand to him. “If you go into this knowing you’ll have to help me because I don’t know shit about being half of a bond pair, well, I’m willing to give it a whirl.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said stiffly, still not looking at her. “I didn’t tell you about losing Marta so you would pity me. I told you so you would understand.”

  She stifled a bitter laugh. “I don’t pity you,” she said. “I pity me. I lied to you just now. It’s not that I prefer working alone. I’ve chosen to so I don’t have to feel responsible for anyone else’s death. If you still want me for your bondmate, I’d be honored.”

  Rune looked at her then. Really looked at her and sifted through her soul, taking her measure. At length, he shut his eyes and whuffled softly. “You still have not told me where we are going. I must know if I am to help boost your magic.”

  Aislinn let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. This was the first time she’d offered anything touching the core of herself since her parents died. Granted, it was only a wolf—No, a stern inner voice kicked in. He is far more than a wolf, and you know it. He is love and risk. And vulnerability.

  “I am going to Taltos,” she sent in shielded mind speech. “I do not know if they will let you in.”

  What he said next shocked her. “They may not exactly welcome me, but I’ve already been there.”

  She was a little show on the uptake, because she was well into pulling their traveling spell together when it dawned that if Rune had been there, he must know how to find it.

  “Of course,” he said, obviously having read her mind.

  “You know my thoughts?” For a second time that afternoon, her spell frittered away on the winds.

  The wolf nodded. “You should know mine, now I’ve dropped my shielding. It is part of the bond gift.”

  She smiled at him, liking this new development, even though it felt scary. It’d be like having a twin, where each knew the other’s innermost feelings. She’d always wanted a brother or sister—

  Alien energy bombarded her. She snapped her head hard right and heard Rune’s voice in her head. “Down the stairs, human. Get that door open. Do it now.”

  The old Aislinn would’ve hesitated, wanting to see exactly what they faced. Today’s Aislinn dove for the stairwell, trusting Rune’s hyper-tuned senses. She was only twenty feet from the break in the earth leading downward. Because she knew where the damaged steps were, she made the bottom in seconds and entered the code from feel without drawing magic for her light. Rune nosed her forward as soon as the door opened.

  She pulled it shut and stood in the dark, the harsh sound of the wolf’s panting loud in her ears. “What was out there?” she whispered, loathe to use any magic in case something with Seeker or Hunter ability lurked above.

  “Dark magic.”

  “Can you still sense it?” She hesitated. “More importantly, can they sense you?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “How are you invisible to them?” She was curious. Maybe she could borrow from his skills. That would be a handy one.

  “I do not need magic to smell and hear things.”

  Aislinn felt stupid. Of course he didn’t. Lupine senses were far more sensitive than her own. Feeling for the chair, she sank into it. And waited. At least half an hour ticked by. “I think we should face whatever’s out there,” she said softly.

  “No.”

  “Well, we can’t stay here.”

  “Why not? There’s food and plastic bottles with water.”

  “Because I have to be at the gateway in three more days.”

  “Or?”

  “Or they may not let me in.”

  In the faint light filtering in from around the door, she saw Rune shift from an alert sit to his feet, tail pluming behind him. “I will go.” He nosed at the door. “Open it for me.”

  “Now just a damned minute.” She rocketed to her feet and buried a hand in the thick ruff of his neck. “We can be partners, but I won’t have you fight my battles.”

  He turned and met her gaze, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I will not lose another bondmate.”

  Shit, he’s more like me than I realized…

  She squatted and wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in the clean animal scent of him. He smelled like the forest and wild things. It was a good smell. Pure and bracing. “None of us can predict the future. I will do my damnedest to stay alive, and so will you. We can help each other, but no matter how hard we try, one of us might die.” She blinked back sudden tears. “It’s not the life I was born to, and I don’t like it very much, but it’s the way things are. I say we go out there together.”

  His body stiffened beneath her touch. She stroked his coat from shoulders to haunches again and again. Finally, he said, “It would not be my first choice, but we can leave.”

  “Do you know what kind of creature we face?”

  When he didn’t answer, she sent out the finest spindle of Seeker magic. It came back almost immediately, and she blew out a breath. “Only wargs. Not that many of them. We should be able to mow our way through them and be gone.”

  “They are my blood. I would prefer not to kill them if there is another way.”

  His answer stopped her dead. She thought about wargs—wolves turned by the dark and infused with their insidious magic. Like all creatures of the dark, they’d surrendered their will. “You feel sorry for them?” She was incredulous. It had never occurred to her to feel any
thing but anger for men stupid enough to sell their souls to the dark gods.

  “No, I still hold hope they will come to their senses.”

  “Oh.”

  Rune’s compassion for his kin filled her with embarrassment. Ever since that night in Bolivia, all she’d wanted to do was inflict pain on the ones who’d been irresponsible enough to invite disaster to Earth. The power of their chanting at multiple weak spots between the worlds had opened gateways for the dark. Stupid idiots.

  “Well,” she said, “we can try to leave from here. It’s always harder traveling from underground, but if you help…”

  He shook his head, still cradled between her arms. “No, you are right, human. This is a battle to the death. For each of their foot soldiers we vanquish, they have fewer to launch against us. Come. Let us do what we must and be gone from this place.”

  “There are ten,” she told him, “feeding on the dead. There must’ve been fighting here recently. We have the element of surprise. I’ll pull fire from the earth. Don’t get between me and my targets.”

  “I will start with the ones on the right.” He growled. Hackles rose along his spine.

  “Fine. I’ll start left. We’ll meet in the middle. I want to test out this Hunter magic you think I have.”

  Using two hands, she opened the locking mechanism silently. Rune went first. When he gathered his rear legs under him and sprang out of the hole in the earth, she was on his heels, power blazing from her hands. Whatever she targeted fell before her. Aislinn blinked in amazement. Could it be that Hunter magic meant she never missed? Christ! Wish I knew more about this. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be overpowered, but her aim was always true. Once she sent magic after something, it couldn’t escape the death that flew from her hands.

  Son of a bitch, maybe I’m a Hunter after all.

  Amidst yelps and howls, three impossibly large, gray wolves fell before her. Then two more. She didn’t have time to look Rune’s way. Snarling and snapping suggested he was well engaged. She pulled power to send it spiraling after another wolf when her target, apparently sensing his imminent doom, turned tail and ran. She could still kill it, but it didn’t feel fair to nail an enemy in full retreat.