Sanctuary (Immortal Soulless Book 2)

by Tanith Frost

  The map on the seat beside me is pretty basic, just noting the roads, the cabins, and the major landmarks—streams, bridges, and a few boulders left behind when the glaciers retreated at the end of the last ice age. Locals call them erratics. Seems fitting. Nothing around here is as predictable or quiet as I expected when I arrived.

  The female settlement occupies a remote corner of the sanctuary, closer to Bloody Bight than the others, in a broad clearing surrounded by the same black spruce and birch trees that cover the rest of the sanctuary. The branch road leading to it is in worse condition than the one up to Joseph’s, but at least it’s level. The Jeep’s tires follow the grassy ruts until I arrive at the main building. It’s nearly as big as Joseph’s cabin, with smaller outbuildings huddled close by. A red Nissan and a black pickup truck are parked out front, and I park next to them.

  I take a deep breath. It doesn’t help like it did when I was alive. No extra oxygen circulates, thanks to my still heart, and the life energy that might once have been stimulated by the action is long gone. The void that animates me now doesn’t need breath to keep me moving.

  Still, it’s a long-held habit, and it calms me. I arrange my features into the cold neutrality of the vampire I should be and climb out of the Jeep.

  No one steps out to greet me as I approach the door, and the building is quiet even after I knock. I frown. If they’re all still in wolf form, it’s going to make it a lot harder to clear them. And if I’m being honest, I’m not impartial in this. I don’t want it to be them, I want it to be Silas’ horrid pack. I want to see them punished.

  I can’t let that cloud my judgement, though. Vampires don’t let emotion trip us up.

  I knock again. No answer.

  I’m almost back to the Jeep when a petite woman with dark skin and bright eyes, maybe a few years older than I was when I died, approaches from behind the main building. She’s wearing human clothes, faded jeans and a white button-up shirt with low-heeled black boots, but the expression on her face is all wolf. She’d have her ears laid back if that were possible in her current form, I’m sure of it.

  She walks with a slight limp, and when the breeze pushes her curly black hair aside, I spot a white bandage peeking out from the neck of her shirt.

  “Violet?” I ask. My hands rest at my sides, open and non-threatening.

  She lifts her chin. “Vampire.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Spectacular. Not at all like I was nearly ripped apart just a few days ago. What do you want?”

  Sarcastic. Hard. I can’t help wanting to like her.

  “I came to see if I might have a word with Irene. We had an incident in town a few days ago involving a wolf, and I’d like to see if we can find out what happened.”

  She crosses her arms. “So you can punish us? What will you do if she doesn’t talk to you? Reduce our supplies again?”

  I don’t let my expression give anything away. “I don’t know what Paul has in mind. Maybe nothing. This is more for my own interest. I’d like to set minds at ease among the people in town who want to know it won’t happen again.”

  She doesn’t move for a moment, just locks her gaze with mine. Even in this dim light, her eyes are a brilliant, inhuman gold. She takes a step closer.

  “So good to know you care. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated you visiting me so often in the clinic.” Her voice is somewhere between a growl and a taunting purr.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I mean it.

  I’m not supposed to be friendly, but letting my hard-ass vampire facade slip feels right. Now that I’m standing here with Violet, catching the pain and defensiveness in her voice and posture, I realize that forcing things isn’t going to improve matters between us. She’s not going to give me anything unless I offer something first.

  Vampires have been using the same tactics for so long, trying to appear invulnerable in our power. And now I have to decide whether I’m going to stick with the status quo to get ahead among vampires or trust my instincts and actually solve this murder.

  I brush my fingers over the blue stone in Susannah’s necklace. It’s not going to make any difference, but it reminds me of what she said about the energies here. I focus on Violet’s power, and it hits me just as Silas’ did—invisible, but shining. It’s not anything I feel on a physical level, yet it’s real and somehow unbearably warm. And my reaction is the same. Surface repulsion, like two magnets pushing against each other. Deeper curiosity and perverse desire to explore this strange enemy power.

  Violet’s power isn’t like mine. But maybe we can dig deeper than our instinctive mistrust and find a way to work together.

  I know stepping out of line is a mistake, but hope it’s not a fatal one. The end might justify the means.

  Again.

  I draw another long breath of the clear night air. “I should have come back to see you. Paul said he had things under control, but…” I can’t look away. Can’t show weakness. But I feel ashamed. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Violet appears confused, as off-balance as I feel right now, and she pauses before she answers. “He wouldn’t dare. But having someone in to turn on the lights once in a while would have been quite the treat.” She crosses her arms. “I did appreciate the blankets, though.” She watches me for a few more moments, then turns and walks back toward wherever she came from. “Follow me.”

  I follow her, catching up in a few strides. “Are you all human now?”

  She rolls her eyes. “We’re never human, my dear, any more than you are these days. We are werewolves. But if you’re asking whether we’re all currently in human form—”

  A long, low howl interrupts her.

  “The answer is almost,” she finishes. “We’re all pretty well synched with the full moon, but younger weres can be a bit less predictable. Sasha is behind the rest of us.”

  I wonder whether less predictable only refers to their cycle, or whether they might have other problems with self-control. It seems it won’t be as easy to clear this pack as I—and they—might have hoped.

  Violet stops me at the door of a low-roofed cabin. No windows, but judging by the hushed voices audible from beneath the roof, it’s well ventilated. Smoke rises from the squat stone chimney in thick, richly scented plumes.

  “Wait here. I’ll see if Irene can come out.”

  I pace around the yard while she’s gone, taking surreptitious peeks at anything I can see. The other buildings appear to be outhouses, sheds, and something I take to be a guest house, though I can’t imagine they get a lot of company out here. It’s small, but has windows hung with pale curtains, and flowers in pots grow outside the door. They have a massive vegetable garden, too, full of more types of plants than I thought would survive out here.

  I turn when I hear footsteps. The middle-aged woman who approaches looks wary, just as she did in wolf form the first time we met at the compound fence. There’s strength in her posture, though, and she has an intimidating air in spite of her average height and build. Brown hair streaked with silver flows loose over her shoulders like a long mane, surrounding a faintly lined face clean of makeup. She reminds me a bit of Susannah in that, but there’s nothing of Susannah’s peaceful air about her. They are both creatures of the earth and its energies, but they’re clearly opposites otherwise. Irene wears khaki pants in a comfortable cut, a fitted t-shirt, and black sneakers. A perfectly normal woman, unless you’re paying attention to the details.

  Details like her power, which is as clear and strong as Violet’s. Werewolves don’t seem to become more powerful with age and experience as vampires do. I let myself feel the discomfort that comes from being so close to them, then relax my perceptions.

  “What’s the problem?” Irene’s wariness doesn’t diminish as she comes closer. “What do you want?”

  “Just to ask you a few questions. A few nights ago there was a wolf attack down in Bloody Bight. We’re trying to see who might h
ave—”

  “You assume it was my pack?”

  “I don’t assume anything, except that it was someone from this sanctuary. Unless you know of any lone wolves in the area.”

  She scowls, lips tightening. “My pack was all here last night and the night before. No one wanders during change times.”

  Violet exits the hut, closing the door tight behind her, and stands behind Irene’s right shoulder with her arms crossed.

  She’s Irene’s second, I suppose, or whatever they choose to call their right-hand men and women. Werewolf pack structure doesn’t mirror that of natural wolves, and I still have a lot to learn here.

  No wonder Irene was so worried about her.

  “Thank you,” I tell Irene. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me.” I hesitate, and decide there’s no harm in asking. “You haven’t heard anything else that might help, have you?”

  Irene sneers. If she were in wolf form, it would be far more threatening. I wonder whether they always have such canine mannerisms in this form, or whether it just takes a while for them to wear off when they change.

  “We don’t speak to the other packs,” Violet says when Irene doesn’t answer. “Not if we can help it. They said all that needed to be said years ago, before we broke away.”

  “I see. I…” I close my eyes. I don’t know them well, and can’t feel shifts in their energy that would indicate emotions as I so rarely can with Daniel, or pick up intentions as I might with strong vampires. Aside from the nature of their power, they’re closed off to me.

  Still, I have nothing to lose.

  “Actually, I don’t see,” I continue. “And I’m sorry for that. I feel unprepared for this, and I confess that I’m being cautious now because I don’t want to say the wrong thing.” I open my eyes to search theirs. I’m about to step way out of line, but it feels necessary. I hope it won’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I know Paul is an asshole to you. Probably to the other wolves, if not openly to Joseph. I assume other vampires have been, too.”

  “But you’re not like them?” Violet asks, voice flat.

  “No, I am. I’m a vampire, and there’s something instinctive in me that makes me want to hate you. But I want to understand what that is, and why, because being enemies isn’t getting us anywhere. It never has, as far as I can tell.” I press my lips together, thinking. “I want to see whether there’s a possibility of common ground or whether we’re really doomed to hate each other.”

  And I don’t want to be like Paul or even Daniel, blindly hating what I don’t understand, but I keep that to myself. Saying that out loud would feel too much like disloyalty to my kind. I’m not crossing that bridge. A lone wolf might survive. A lone vampire never will.

  And reaching out already feels too dangerous.

  Irene and Violet exchange a look. There’s uncertainty there, and something that looks strangely like hope. Irene shrugs, and at the sound of another howl, returns to the hut.

  “It’s not that easy,” Violet says, the edge gone from her voice. “Vampires don’t understand weres. We don’t understand you. You call us stupid dogs and try to control our every movement like we’re on leashes, and we’ve sure as hell said some hard words behind your uptight, superior, soulless backs. Honestly, we fucking hate you. Seeing one of you feels like opening the shower curtain and finding a tarantula climbing out of the drain.” Her mouth pulls sideways in a semi-apologetic gesture. “You can’t just walk in and expect us to welcome you.”

  I notice she doesn’t mention our powers directly, but they obviously feel it as strongly as we do.

  “I understand,” I say. “I’d probably be in deep shit if Paul knew I was even trying to make peace, or that I called my species a bunch of assholes. But it seemed worth a shot.”

  She lets out a surprised laugh. “What’s your name?”

  “Aviva.”

  “Hmm. Give me a minute, okay?” She stares off toward the path behind me, drumming her fingers against her thighs and frowning. Then she nods her head and looks at me. “Some of us here have been waiting for something to change, ever since we’ve felt a shift in the power threads that run through this place. Not like we’re seeing signs or anything, but it’s felt like a storm’s coming. Something big.” She chews her lower lip, thinking. “Maybe this is a chance for the situation to improve. But it won’t be easy to make a change. Werewolf blood runs insanely thick. Not family ties, but within the pack. If I do what I’m considering right now, I’m inviting a threat into our midst.”

  It feels like we’re standing on opposite edges of a vast chasm, reaching out, neither of us willing to risk our balance by leaning far enough to make contact.

  She takes a deep breath that obviously does her more good than mine ever do me. “You swear you mean well, that you’re not just here to trick us into confessing to a crime we didn’t commit so you can clear your desk?”

  She’s obviously dealt with Paul before. “I promise,” I tell her. “I came out here to ask questions about the murder, but the problems between our species run far deeper than that. Maybe it’s because I’m young and don’t know better, but I don’t want to hate you.” A sudden need to lighten the tone of the conversation strikes me. This is too much. Too heavy. I’m not here to fix the world’s problems, and even attempting to do so would be very bad for me.

  Still, we need to get somewhere if I want answers.

  I shrug. “I’m stuck here as much as you are, if not for as long. Why not try to make it more pleasant when we have to deal with each other?”

  “Swear it on your—” she stops herself. “Not your life, I guess. And from what I’ve heard, you don’t have a pack, a mate, a soul, or other ties to swear by.”

  “No.” My voice comes out softer than I’d intended. “There’s no one. We swear by the void within us. It’s like life, I guess, but it’s not. Or by the stars.”

  Her eyes narrow again as she looks into mine, but it’s not as hard as before. Her expression softens. Weres aren’t supposed to have gifts like we do, but I think she has more than a hint of an empathic side to her. Maybe it just comes from close social ties that I never valued enough in life, ties that I’m denied now. “Swear by that, then.”

  “I swear by the void, by my gifts, by whatever created my kind that I wish no harm to anyone but whoever killed that boy. And then I only wish for justice.”

  She sighs. “You vampires. Always with the caveats and rules and footnotes.”

  I smile. “Can’t help what I am. Only who I am. I hope there’s enough difference there that we can understand each other.”

  “Guess that will have to be good enough.” She lets out a hard breath that sends her hair blowing up out of her face. “I only hope they forgive me for this.”

  She turns and heads back into the hut, leaving me alone again. I want to step closer. If I did, I could hear what they’re saying. From here I can’t quite make out what they’re muttering, even when a few voices grow louder. They’re arguing. I don’t have to use my gift to sense that.

  I don’t know what she’s up to. I think she means well, but whatever it is, it’s not what I came for, and it feels like it’s going to take me off-track. I came here tonight for answers. To pay my dues and get ahead. Not to get close to them. Not to undermine my clan or my species.

  My stomach tightens. I could leave.

  I don’t.

  Violet emerges a few minutes later. She smooths her hair down with both hands and then shakes them off at her sides, as though cleansing herself of whatever happened in there. “It’s not going to be pleasant, and it’s not without serious reservations that I offer this. But Sasha and Irene are in agreement that you can come in, and that’s what matters. We’ll handle the fallout later. Follow me.”

  “What’s happening?”

  She looks to the heavens rather than to me. “You’re invited to witness a change.”

  “Wait, what? Why? I mean—”

  She cuts me off with a hard l
ook. “Nothing changes if we don’t decide to make it so. You said you wanted to understand us, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  She raises her golden eyes to the sky. “Then come with me. And may whatever gods exist forgive us all.”

  Chapter Ten

  The interior of the little cabin is lit only by the light from the fireplace, but it’s more than adequate. The roaring blaze warms the entire room and illuminates at least a dozen women in human form, plus one wolf who lies on the floor, furry sides heaving as she draws deep, panting breaths.

  I slam the doors closed on my deeper perceptions of their power. I might go insane if I felt it in so many of them.

  Everyone turns as we enter. Even the wolf lifts her head to look before resting it back on the white blanket she’s lying on.

  The others don’t look away from me. Not one of them. Two wear casual dresses, one’s in pyjamas, another a bath robe. Most are in jeans. But the expression on their faces might as well be a uniform uniting the pack against the outsider.

  A blonde with shoulder-length hair cut in a rough shag steps forward, and Violet holds up one hand. Not a threatening gesture, but the blonde halts immediately. The stark hate doesn’t fade from her eyes, but Violet obviously has her under control.

  Still, my power awakens and swirls through me, preparing me to fight. I came in here wanting to believe the best, but the fact remains that there’s nothing to keep them from ambushing me in this tight space. I stay close to the door even when Violet moves toward Irene, who’s crouched next to the wolf. They exchange a few words, and Violet makes her way through the crowd. They relax, if only slightly, apparently trusting their superiors even if they have nothing but fear and hate for what Violet has invited in.

  The wolf whines, then lets out a long, moaning howl.

  A redhead carries a pot from a table in the corner to the fireplace and sets it on the hearth, and the scents of lavender and lemon fill the room. It’s both soothing and invigorating.