Cold Mercy (Northern Wolves)

by Sadie Hart

  Chapter Twelve

  The first wolf stepped from the trees, head low, but lips pulled back to reveal the deadly curve of fangs. Bay snarled, his shoulders bunching as he took a step forward. Unlike the wolves now crowding close, he didn’t lower his head. He didn’t press back his ears. Instead, he held his head high, dominant, his ears pricked forward, almost eager.

  They were weak, according to his wolf. They didn’t defend a pack, they were simply wrong. Evil. And he wouldn’t bow to them. Bay snapped at the air as one came too close, a warning, and the only one he’d issue. Another step and he’d pounce, sinking his fangs into skin until he could fine bone and blood. The wolves paused, more than one glancing back up the path. Towards Morrigan.

  Did they look to her? One dodged towards him, teeth skimming low to the ground and Bay darted out of reach, whipping around and nailing the other wolf on the hind quarters. A ribbon of red trailed down the wolf’s hip. He spun, keeping the rest in sight, but not another moved to take him. They were all white, blending into the snow, the only one distinguishable was the one with a gash down his haunches now.

  Bay waited several long seconds, but when no one else made a move for him, he stepped backwards along the path, unwilling to give them his back. He backed away, and once he’d moved several feet down the trail the wolves faded back into the trees, silent this time. Like ghosts drifting back to their graves.

  His wolf didn’t relax, not as he padded back to Eden’s, following the scent trail left by her dogs. She was there, the sled put up, the dogs already hitched to their houses when he came trotting out of the woods and across her yard. Bay yipped happily, even as the rest slunk into their houses. His wolf found it comical. They were like whipped puppies, scared of him.

  Bay shook his head at his wolf’s amusement and instead approached Eden, only to press his nose into her hand. He looked up at her and wagged his tail. “You okay?” she asked, though the muscle in her jaw flexed. Unhappy. Angry.

  Bay dipped his head in a yes.

  “You’re not going to change back are you? That’s awfully cheap, Bay. Cowardly.”

  With a sigh, he pulled the wolf back in until he stood shivering, naked, but human, in the snow in front of her. “I was trying to avoid the cold.” He shot her a wry smile. “And driving home naked.”

  “What happened?”

  “They just wanted to make it clear we weren’t welcome on that trail.” He shivered under a blast of frozen wind. “A little bluffing, some snarling, and they pulled back into the woods and I hurried back here.”

  He reached out and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her in for a quick kiss. He’d never get enough of kissing her. Everything inside him calmed—the maelstrom of instincts, the confusion—it all faded under the press of her lips on his. Right here, right now, she made him feel human again. Bay pulled back first, finally feeling some semblance of control. But then again, it was early yet. Twilight hadn’t even begun to touch the sky.

  His fingers caressed softly over the back of her neck, stroking, and Bay smiled at her. “I should go.”

  Eden lifted her eyebrows before jerking her gaze down his body and back up again. “I’ll get you a blanket. It’ll go with your collection. Though at this rate, you should leave some spare clothes here.”

  His heart slammed in his chest as he watched her walk towards the house. She made it half way before she realized he wasn’t following and turned back for him, her long hair falling over her shoulders in a golden wave. “Are you coming? Your feet have to be raw.”

  To be honest, he’d forgotten the pain. Forgotten the cold. But now that she mentioned it, he could feel his wolf just under his skin, the added heat of the animal inside him keeping him warm. “Nah, I’m just going to go start the truck. Shit.”

  He closed his eyes. His keys. They’d been in his pocket. No doubt sitting on the trail where he’d gone all wolfy on the others and had shredded his clothes. A laugh sounded from him and he shook his head. His voice was quiet with affection when he looked up at her this time. “Never mind Eden. I’ll get the truck tonight, I’m going to run home. Four legs.” He added that last bit to as an afterthought.

  He guarded her each night anyway. He’d just run out, grab the keys, and head home. When he ran back tonight to stand watch, he’d bring the keys and a pair of sweats. Enough to let him change come morning and take the truck home.

  “Tonight?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “They hunt at night. I don’t want them scaring your dogs.”

  Or rather, hurting you. He stopped himself from saying the rest. Some women didn’t appreciate being protected, not when most of them up here carried guns and could shoot with the best men. It was an equal world and Bay could understand that, even if his wolf struggled with it. But this...all of this magic and werewolves and trolls, that wasn’t anything natural. And Bay wasn’t of the natural world anymore. He stood the best chance at keeping her safe.

  Eden seemed to ponder that, her lips pursing slightly in thought, and he wanted to cross the snow again and wrap her in his arms, hold her, kiss her again. Instead, he ducked his head in a silent goodbye to her and took a step towards the forest. The wolf came easy, a ruffle of fur under his skin and then it was free, and Bay as the man was gone.

  A surprised gasp slipped out of her and Bay glanced back to Eden. She didn’t look at him with revulsion. Amazement glittered out of her eyes and she gave her head a slight shake. “That’ll never get old.” She held out a hand. “May I?”

  His wolf gave an appreciative rumble, and it vibrated through his body, even as his tail gave a long, swaying wag. Then he was pressed up against her hip, rubbing against her like a great cat. He could have bowled her over without trying and knocked her into the snow. An image of his claws slicing through her jacket and sending her flying passed through his mind. But it was a distant memory now.

  The raging hunger that had controlled him then, was quiet now. The only emotion swirling through Bay now was something he couldn’t quite explain. Affection was part of it. Love, maybe? Though damn, it was too early to think he could have fallen that far for a woman. Even Eden.

  Fingers curled through his fur and he leaned into her scratch, reveling in the moment shared between them. Then with a lick across her knuckles, he bounded away, running back for the forest, his keys, and finally home. But there was never any doubt in his mind that he’d be back, under the cover of nightfall and a slowly fattening moon.

  ***

  Eden yawned, swatting at her nightstand in hopes of beating her alarm into silence. She’d been up half the night looking for Bay, but all she’d seen were the flicker of yellow eyes glowing back and forth between the trees. The other wolves no doubt, but not a single one of them had stepped past the threshold of the trees and into her yard.

  Her dogs had still spent most of the night in hiding. Not that she could blame them. The thought of the troll coming back had her queasy too. She doubted a shotgun would have stopped that thing. Only Bay had really stood a chance and it’d been a rough fight, nearly killing them both. It could have been so much worse.

  “Shut up already,” Eden said and lunged out of bed towards the nightstand, driving away the depressing thoughts in favor of attacking her alarm clock. Hammering down on it, the stupid thing went silent and Eden plopped back onto bed. Her phone rang then.

  “Bless it,” she muttered under her breath. It was five-thirty in the morning, who was awake at that time? Besides her. Damn. But the dogs needed feeding. Dragging her butt out of bed, she snatched up her phone and headed down the hall, drawn immediately in the direction of the coffee maker. “Hello?”

  “We still on for breakfast?”

  “You are so lucky I’m awake.” But she found herself smiling anyways at Rowan’s voice, already dreaming of breakfast. “And you bet your ass. I’m starving already.”

  “Good. I already called Dee, she’s still on, but needs to stop into the clinic first. They’re having hell righ
t now. Not even just with the sick animals. Apparently dogs and cats, they’re all going missing lately. Yours all still home?”

  Eden perked up instantly and headed for her back door, her strides a flurry of movement. She flung open the door and peeked outside. One whistle and the dogs all emerged from their houses. Everyone was there. Tension drained out of her in a rush. “Yup. All accounted for. Your cats?”

  “Snowy’s vanished, but that’s not abnormal for him.”

  Snowy referenced the feral cat that lingered around Rowan’s home. She’d been trying to tame him for years, even resorting to trying to trap him and bring him inside. That had worked once. The first time she’d opened the door to leave the house, he’d fled back outside again and had never fallen for another trap. The rest of Ro’s cats were house kitties, kept safely away from the dangers of the outside world.

  “I’m not too worried yet. It’s only been a few days. He can be gone for up to a week before toddling back. And in this weather, I’m sure he’ll be back for food soon.”

  “I hope so. I’ll send positive thoughts your way. See you at breakfast?”

  Rowan let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

  She hung up before Eden could ask say anything else, but she remembered Rowan saying she’d be bringing something ‘freaky’ to breakfast. She eyed the clock, eight suddenly seemed to be so far away. A cup of coffee later and she bundled up to feed the dogs. Bay’s truck was gone, so he had been there, even if she hadn’t seen him.

  She stared at the empty space for a moment, picturing all those wolves drifting in and out of the shadows last night, the only sign that they were there at all was the glint of their yellow eyes in the moon. Like headlights they flashed in and out of the darkness. And he’d stood between them, the trolls, everything, and her.

  Then the dogs started barking and Eden shoved away the odd feeling building inside her, the needling thought that he’d become more than just a man who’d fixed her sled. More than just a friend, even.

  By the time the dogs were done it was a little after seven, just enough time to get to the Fairy Cat Café on time. Kennedy was already there when she arrived, sitting in their normal booth, her head in her hands. Eden made a soft noise full of sympathy as she slid in next to her friend and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That bad?”

  “A six-year-old boy’s dog died of hypothermia. We tried, but he passed away in the night. I don’t want to make the call to his parents. I don’t understand either. He was a house dog and despite the snowfall, the temperatures haven’t been that low.”

  “I don’t know.” Eden leaned into her, offering her friend what little comfort she could.

  “I might have an idea,” Rowan said and they both looked up as she slid into the booth across from them, an old, tattered book in her hands. “And it’s going to sound crazy as all get out.”

  “Isn’t that...” Eden trailed off as she squinted at the book, trying to read the title.

  Rowan slid it across the table, turning it, so it was right-side up for the pair of them. Stories of the Fae. “My grandmother’s story book. Yeah.”

  Eden started to shake her head, her logical side kicking into overdrive. Magic didn’t exist. Except, that it kind of did. Her jaw snapped shut. After all, she’d witnessed Bay just yesterday as he’d flowed back into his wolf.

  And as if she knew what Eden was thinking, Rowan flipped open the book to somewhere in the middle. There, drawn in beautiful detail, vibrant colors painting the scene, were a pack of huge wolves in a winter forest. Wolves the size of bears. All white save one. The largest standing off to the side of the back, alongside a tall, willowy woman, was solid black. A man lay in the snow, red around him, and a wolf stood to his side. The heading at the top read, The Winter Wolves.

  “They look like Bay.” Eden glanced up at Rowan, only for her to turn back a page and draw Eden’s attention down to the book once more.

  On this page, a woman sat on a throne of ice, dressed in a pale white gown. Her eyes were as black as the wolves’ and her lips, they were red with blood. Droplets shimmered on her chin and down the front of her gown. The Winter Fae. And under the image of the woman, The Winter Fae’s queen, Morrigan.

  Holy shit. Eden felt her throat go dry. Kennedy made a soft choking sound next to her.

  “I always thought Nana couldn’t say ‘fairy’ remember?” Rowan drew in a long, shaky breath. “I always figured they were just fairy tales, kid’s stories. Like the kind the Grimm’s brothers used to write.”

  They all had. After all, things like this just weren’t possible. Eden reached forward and touched the book, flipping the page back to stare at the wolves. Her arm hummed with the touch, the tips of her fingers going numb for a second and she jerked her hand away. It felt...powerful. “Do you feel that?”

  Rowan nodded. “Nana used to tell me it was magic. I believed her as a kid, laughed at her as I got older. Thought she’d rigged it somehow. Now, I think she’s right. It’s magic.”

  Eden started flipping through the book. She found the page focused on trolls and felt her heart give a queasy flip-flop. “That’s what attacked us,” she said, even as she skimmed the writing describing them. They ate small creatures, particularly enjoyed pets and children. Innocence-eaters they were often called.

  More and more monsters filled the section on the Winter Fae. Some stole little kids and swapped them for glamoured chunks of wood, so that by the time the parents noticed their child was gone it would be too late. Rowan pointed to a section on banshees, soulless ghosts that howled through frozen nights and slipped into houses, freezing young children and small animals. They’d come back and back, until finally one morning, their victims wouldn’t wake from the cold. Kennedy’s hypothermia cases.

  “How many are there?” Kennedy whispered, her voice full of horror as she stared at the thick book.

  A ragged sigh sounded from next to them and all three girls jumped at the noise. Rowan’s grandma stood beside the table and Dorie looked older now, as if the last time she’d run into them had worn on her. “It’s started then,” she said and sank into the booth next to her granddaughter, her eyes sad.

  Her once black hair was now white and Doreen Bast had never been one to dye it. She’d been curly and white for as long as Eden had known her. “You okay?” she asked softly and Dorie smiled, reaching out to cup Eden’s hand in hers.

  “Oh, darling, with the things that are coming, no one will be safe. So, no.” She gave her head a slight shake. “I’m not okay.”

  “So it’s all real then?” Kennedy asked the question that Eden had been thinking but unable to voice. She’d seen Bay change, but looking at this book, reading these tales, it didn’t seem possible. In her whole life, up until just recently, none of it had been.

  Or well, not to her knowledge. Hell. Eden slumped back into the chair. That was just it. It’d all been possible, she just hadn’t known. Dorie gave Kennedy a smile. It seemed forced around the edges and made the wrinkles around her lips deepen.

  “It’s real,” she said, her voice solemn.

  Rowan looked at her grandmother, her eyebrows slanted over her eyes, confusion and amazement written all over her face. “How did you know about this?”

  Dorie closed her eyes, such pain on her face it tore at Eden’s heart. Dorie had always been like a grandmother to her, both of hers having died when she was really little. To see the agony tear at a woman she’d loved her whole life ate at her. “Rowan.” Dorie looked at the book. “Let me start from the beginning.”

  She grabbed the book and flipped it back to the beginning. One wrinkled fingertip tapped the first page. Two women stood back to back, one in a dress of white, her black hair and red-red lips instantly recognizable. Morrigan, the Queen of the Winter Fae. The second wore green, her long golden hair and brilliant blue eyes every bit as warm and endearing as Morrigan was cold and brutal.

  “There are two courts. The Winter Fae, those of Morrigan, and the Summer Fae, those of
Syndaria. The seasons between are times of neutral power, but when the first snow falls, or the first blooms of spring linger into summer, then the magic linked to whatever queen in charge begins to wake. Or so it used to. A long time ago, Morrigan was banished. Sealed away. Her magic is always dark, bloody.”

  “Nana...” Rowan started, but Dorie shook her head.

  “Hear me out. The Bast family is descended from those of the Summer Fae. Not many of us still have magic in our blood, but we try to pass the legends down. Some of us know them as only bedtime stories. Others, like me, know them as the truth.”

  “You can do magic?” Eden couldn’t blame the skepticism that lingered in Rowan’s voice. Despite everything she’d seen, thinking that Dorie could do magic was almost too much.

  “Not now, not with snow on the ground and the plants all dead.” She gave Rowan half smile. “It’s a story for another day and another time. This,” she said, and flipped the pages back to Morrigan and her people, “is a story for now. Somehow, she’s awake again. I feared as much when I saw the picture of the winter wolf, but I’d hoped...”

  She didn’t have to say what she’d hoped. They all knew.

  Kennedy rubbed her face and Eden knew her friend was thinking off all those sick and dying pets. “What’s it all mean?”

  “That a lot of people are going to die. While the Summer Fae get their strength from the sun, the flowers, the earth, the Winter Fae get it from blood and darkness.”

  “Which is why she’s stronger at night.” Everyone turned and looked at Eden, but it was the unspoken curiosity, the silent urge for more information on Dorie’s face that made Eden blush. “I kind of know one of the wolves.”

  Dorie frowned and so Eden explained about Bay, his transformations, what he’d told her. When she was done Dorie sank back into her booth. “I’ve never heard of one of Morrigan’s wolves refusing her. I knew she took people and changed them. Her wolves were the kernel of truth behind the myths of werewolves, but I’ve never known a wolf of hers to be able to control himself. Be careful, she could be playing you.”