by Tess Oliver
Transitioning in and out of Wynter was different for all of us. Stryker suffered a lot of pain, something that we were sure had to do with the fact that he wasn't supposed to be there. I heard rock 'n' roll music, loud guitars, booming drums and fucking hot tunes. I figured that meant I was supposed to be part of the pack. And I was all right with that. I couldn't imagine doing anything else.
I twisted the throttle and took my last few breaths of clean, forest air before my face was slapped with a spray of greasy plasma. Jimmy Page's guitar twanged in my ears as the handlebar grips thinned to leather reins and my body was lifted high up onto Barq's back. The horse shook his head violently, like he always did after shifting.
I leaned into the horse as he reared straight up on his back legs and then arced forward into a run. Flint headed off after a wraith, and I turned Barq toward the river. I would be on all fours tonight, working alongside Stryker. Flint and Wilder were on horseback at the border. Our wolf forms allowed us to traverse the treacherous terrain deep inside Wynter's landscape. Sludge holes, flaming hot geysers and a thick foul air made it far too dangerous for horses. As wolves, our preternatural senses and light-footed run made the task a little less challenging.
Boys of Wynter hadn't always been shapeshifters, but when too many of our predecessors were killed chasing wraiths into Wynter's deep, dark interior, Feenix found a witch, a spell caster who gave the Boys who managed to survive the years of arduous training the ability to shapeshift. Some considered it a curse, but I fucking loved it. As powerful as I was in human form, I was five times that in wolf form. There was, of course, a strict law forbidding us to shapeshift in the human world unless absolutely necessary. But that didn't mean a little of my wolfishness didn't make an appearance now and then, especially with the right woman in my arms. Sometimes it was a natural, wild reaction that I just couldn't stifle.
Stryker's horse was already tied up, which meant he had already started his hunt in Wynter's interior. Barq twitched his gray ears back as I whistled for Catch. The crooked nosed goblin used his long arm to hop along the moss covered ground bordering the river. With his long nose and primitive gait, he always reminded me of a chimpanzee with a banana stuck in the center of his face. Most goblins were considered pests, and we'd spent plenty of work hours chasing down the ugly, useless suckers. But Catch was different. He was smart and he'd made himself indispensible in the underworld. Catch was the soul driver. He led the frightened, confused and sometimes downright belligerent newly arrived souls to their final destination, whether it was to Cashel's work fields or Vapour's realm, where only the worst motherfuckers spent eternity agonizing in fiery pits.
Catch was also in charge of the horses when we weren't riding. "Maximus," he muttered from his crooked mouth as he took hold of Barq's reins. His beady eyes shifted back and forth nervously, and his long, sharp nose swung around like the needle on a compass as he looked around.
"Why the hell are you acting so twitchy, Catch?"
"Huh? Oh nothing. Except." He waved his soot-filled nails in the air. "Nah, I'm just imagining it."
"Imagining what?"
"I could have sworn I saw a wraith dashing in and out of the pylons on the dock. But they never come down here, and they certainly never like to go near the River of Souls."
"Yeah, they don't—"
A scream shot up from the dock, and a chorus of moans and howls rolled up from the deck of the ferry. Trex, the ferryman, was just about to take a group of souls across to wait for Catch to lead them away, but the stern of the ferry rocked back and forth like a cradle hanging on a branch in the wind. The souls floating in the river, waiting for their ride across, were wailing in protest as the motion of the ferry's hull made the river's surface swell with waves.
The ferryman, himself, looked more than slightly perturbed at something. He flailed his black gloved hands around, swinging his tattered gray cloak like wings attached to his arms. His hood still stayed straight on his head, keeping the black gossamer veil that perpetually shielded his deformed face from view, securely in place. Still, it wasn't normal to see Trex doing a nervous dance. He ferried complaining, angry souls across the river all day and nothing irritated him, with the exception of me . . . at least in the past few months. I hadn't yet figured out what the hell I'd done to earn his sudden anger, but lately, Trex had made it clear that he just didn't like me. But that wasn't going to stop me from heading down to the dock to see just what the hell was going on.
Three
Maximus
When Trex spoke, his voice was muffled by the veil. He kept it so low and rough, it sounded like wheels on gravel. But as I reached the dock I was sure I heard a sharp, angry voice yelling 'fucking wraith'. Since the souls were new enough to the underworld that they were still trying to absorb the grim reality that the world of death actually existed, they were far from understanding the concept of a wraith. Especially because wraiths were hard to pinpoint with any kind of description. They were pliable clouds of stink covered chaos. And one was causing all kinds of chaos on Trex's ferry.
The hull of the ferry slipped from side to side causing some of the murky, pudding-like river water to splash up over the dock and across my boots.
"Fucking hell." I pounded my feet on the splintery dock to rid my boots of the slime. Even though I was there to help, if I stepped onto the ferry, tracking river water onto the deck, I would never hear the end of it from Trex.
I braced my feet hard on the deck, hoping my size and weight would help steady the otherwise rocky boat. Trex's veiled face turned my direction for just a second before the hunched over, old ferryman was sent flying through the air. His booted feet went straight up, and he landed with a thud on deck. The wraith that had upended him shot out from under Trex's cloak.
I pulled my gun from the holster. The wraith screeched and spewed its stink. The souls that were lined up along the railing of the ferry covered their faces to avoid the odor.
The wraith's glowing eyes twinkled with evil amusement, then it circled the ferry and sliced through the mist toward a shaken Trex, who had just pushed to his feet.
I needed to chase the fucking thing back onto the dock, so I could get a clear shot. I needed to get it right between the eyes, otherwise I was wasting ammo. I lunged forward and grabbed the ends of its tattered coat. Just as I moved to fling the beast out of the ferry and onto the dock, its clawed white hands jutted greedily forward. Before Trex could react, the wraith had grabbed hold of the black veil covering his face. The wraith screamed and released a long trail of stink as I lobbed it onto the dock.
Trex had dropped down into a ball, pulling his hood down low over his face. As an obnoxious teen, I'd always devised plans to grab away the veil, so we could get a look at what was supposed to be a hideously disfigured face. But now I just felt sorry for him. And I was mad as fucking hell at the stupid, slimy wraith for leading me on a chase.
The wraith gripped the thin black fabric in its claws as if it had won the veil as a prize, then it took off toward the horses. Wraiths hated water and they especially avoided the river. Hell, we all avoided the river.
"I'm done with this shit," I muttered as I climbed back up on the dock. I caught up to the wraith as it circled the horses and headed toward Wynter. I could have let it disappear into Wynter and hunted it down later, but I needed to get that damn veil from its claws. Once it slipped into Wynter, there were too many places for it to hide the damn thing.
"Hey, dumbshit," I called.
The wraith hadn't expected me to address it. It stopped and looked back at me with laughing yellow eyes. I raised my gun and before it could spin away from me, I fired a bullet. It screeched and writhed as it fell to the ground. I took three large steps and reached down to pry the black veil from its claws before the wraith bubbled and evaporated into a sour smelling mist. The claws had done some damage on the frail fabric, but I was sure Trex would still want it.
I hurried with long strides back to the dock. The ferry was no l
onger rocking back and forth. Trex was still crouched down with his shoulders drawn up over his body to hide his face. The souls waiting to be delivered across the river were sitting in a huddled, frightened mass. They'd been treated to more than the usual ferry ride.
I couldn't remember ever chasing a wraith near the river. It was almost as if this one had been sent with the sole purpose to unmask the unsuspecting ferryman. Trex had always been a sad, lonely figure sitting out on the macabre stretch of water that was filled with unhappy souls. It seemed like a horrible life, but he always claimed it was an easy way to make a living. I had no idea how old he was or how long he'd been at the helm, but it seemed like it must have been just short of forever. No one seemed to know what kind of being Trex was, but it was easy to assume he was immortal. The ferry had down times, hours when it was docked and the ferryman went off to whatever cave or hole he called home. But when he was out on the river, it was long, grim hours spent carrying rotting, angry dead people to a crappy but well-earned eternity.
I needed to get to Wynter. Stryker was hunting alone. Without thinking, I jumped down onto the deck. My massive weight sent the boat down on the starboard side. Murky water sloshed inside, and the violent movement stunned Trex. He pushed to his feet and swung around with a gasp.
The next gasp to follow was mine. Only it was more of a long, sharp breath. The word fuck came out on my exhale.
There was no deformity, unless perfection could be considered a deformity. Through the years I'd heard every description, every embellished rumor of the pathetic, hideous face hidden behind the black fabric. But a doll-like brunette with hazel eyes and cherry red lips was never mentioned once. In fact, I was sure never during my years of hearing about poor, deformed Trex had I heard anyone say that the ferryman was a ferrywoman.
Her gloved hands shot out, and she snatched back the veil. She deftly pushed it up under her hood and drew the length of it down over her face.
I stood stock-still in the center of the deck, trying to decide if I'd actually seen the pretty face or if my mind had just stepped in to help me avoid seeing the real face, the face that had been deemed monstrous.
"Thank you, now please go. I need to get across the river." The low, gravelly voice behind the veil now sounded forced.
"Hold on there, ferryman. Cuz something isn't quite right here. Now, mind you, I've been wondering for years just what I'd see if that black veil fell away from your face, but not once, in all those years of wondering, was I expecting a pair of lips like the lips I just saw."
"Must have been your imagination." Her voice was nearly at whisper level.
"Nope, not my imagination."
She looked quickly at her trembling passengers and then grabbed my hand to lead me forward to the bow. "Please, Maximus, I need you to keep this a secret."
"What? That the ancient, decrepit ferryman is actually a hot brunette?"
"Yes. No. I mean just please don't tell anyone."
"Uh, I'm going to need some kind of explanation because my head is spinning with confusion right now."
"Meet me tomorrow night after your shift ends." She had dropped the froggy throat sound and a soft, sexy voice floated out from the gauze. Her breath pulled the thin fabric against her mouth, revealing the perfect shape of her lips. I hadn't been imagining the last few moments. I hadn't been imagining the face.
"Do you want me to meet you here on the dock?"
"No, it's too dangerous." She glanced around as if someone might be listening in on our conversation. "The Whitecrest Marina. Look for the olive green trawler named Traveler. That's where you'll find me, and remember, not a word."
"So you're allowed in the mortal world?"
A short laugh fluttered the fabric in front of her face. "Go. I have work to do."
I climbed back on the dock and looked back at the ferry before walking away. There were so many questions in my head, they were getting tangled up in a confused mess. How the hell was I going to concentrate on my work now?
Four
Rikki
I curled my arms around my knees as I sat at the stern of the trawler and stared up at the golden moon. It was always a relief to be out of the dank, suffocating atmosphere of the underworld. And the navy blue rippling tide that gently rocked the Traveler was a far more inviting body of water than the River of Souls.
It had been twenty-four hours since my secret had been revealed. Of all people it had to be Maximus. Knowing that he would be walking down the planks of the dock in all his big, brawny glory made my already nervous stomach tie up in a pretzel shaped knot. I still couldn't believe that it had happened. After a long shift on the ferry, I'd had time to think about the incident. I was not convinced that the wraith flew toward my boat on a whim. Erratic as they were, I doubted very much that wraiths were even capable of whims. No. Someone or something had sent the creature to find me, and it seemed the goal of the mission was to unmask me. A goal it had easily achieved and right in front of Maximus . . . naturally.
I groaned in frustration. Anyone but Maximus.
A shiver vibrated my body, and I hugged my legs tighter for warmth. After a twenty hour shift in the hot steamy climate of the underworld, the gentle ocean breeze felt glacial. Although, I was sure nerves had something to do with it.
I glanced over at the clock my father had hung over the door of the pilot house. It was well past midnight. Maximus's pack would have left Wynter by now.
A cold jolt of fear struck me. What if he'd decided to tell the others? What if he brought everyone to the boat to prove his story? I needed to keep my identity hidden until I found my dad.
Loud footsteps creaked the brittle wood of the dock. Maximus's tall, imposing silhouette loomed in the shadows of the boats lining the marina. He had pulled his long queue of hair back in a twisted braid, and he'd pulled a shirt on over his powerful torso. I was thankful for that at least, but it didn't stop the rapid rush of my heartbeat as his face came into view.
His expressive brown eyes were busy looking for the names on the three trawlers lined up in front of the Traveler. It gave me a few seconds to gather my courage and stop the damn trembling in my hands. It also gave me a moment to watch and admire him, without him noticing, just like I'd done for the past two months from behind the black veil. Before I allowed my pulse to race out of control, I reminded myself that he was absolutely not for me.
I'd gone over my explanation a million times, each time changing what I was going to say. But I'd decided just to spill the whole damn story. As much as my stubborn confidence had convinced me not to involve anyone else, it was starting to become painfully clear that I was going to need help.
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows to reveal myself in the moonlight. Maximus had been trained to hear the slightest movement, and my light footsteps drew his attention to the Traveler. He stopped in the center of the dock and stared at me as if I had just grown flowers from the top of my head. I'd, of course, left the ferryman's cloak behind and changed into a sweater and jeans.
"It's me, Maximus. You've found the right boat."
"It's you," he repeated as he walked closer to the Traveler. He stared down at me. "But just who the hell are you? Because you sure as hell aren't Trex."
I motioned for him to step onto the deck. The boat shifted side to side with his weight. God, he was massive. I had to crane my neck to look up at his face.
"I'm Rikki. Trex was my great-grandfather."
Maximus didn't take his eyes off me as he leaned back against the railing and crossed his giant arms. Black ink stretched over the contracting muscles of his forearms. "And where is your great-grandfather?"
"Dead. He died about thirty years ago."
"That's impossible."
"No, actually, it's not." I found it easier to tell my story if I was farther away. I could almost feel the heat of his body when I got too close, and it gave me a head rush, thinking about that heat and thinking about his body.
I climbed up on th
e folded nets and sat down. It brought me closer to being the same height as him. He was exceptional in the murky atmosphere shrouding the river. In fresh air, with the moon and the marina lights casting a glow on him, he stole the breath right out of my lungs.
"I always assumed that Trex was an immortal."
"Nope, we are just plain old mortals. We bleed when cut. We cry when heartbroken. And we die."
"We?" There was something annoyingly appealing about his wry, crooked smile. "So, you are the ferryman? Woman?" He shook his head. "Wait. None of this is making sense. Why you? And why the black veil? You aren't exactly hard to look at."
"Backhanded as that compliment was, I'll take it. I'll start back with my great-grandfather, but everything I tell you has to stay between us. We've kept the family business a secret for well over a century, and I don't need some arrogant Wynter guard like you telling the world about us."
"I'm not arrogant."
"Yes, you are. Now, do I have your promise?"
Maximus uncrossed his arms and leaned his hands back on the railing, reminding me of just how big his shoulders and chest were. "I don't keep secrets from my pack."
"Fine then, we're done here." I hopped down off the pile of nets and headed past him to climb off the boat. His big fingers wrapped around my arm. I stared down at his hand and thought about how often I'd imagined him holding me. He slowly released his grasp on me.
"I won't tell them. Explain why the heck someone like you, someone whose beauty could put to shame the finest rose, is spending any time at all in a place like the underworld."
I cautioned myself to remember that he was a notorious player and that he no doubt had hundreds of well-crafted compliments in his arsenal to throw a woman off her guard. Although, he was so uncommonly handsome, he hardly needed an arsenal. Just his annoyingly confident smile was enough to do the trick. I wondered just how many hearts he'd broken in his lifetime. His masculine appeal was irrefutable, but could I trust the man with my family's secret? The truth was, a large part of the secret was already out. Trex was not one ancient immortal ferryman but a long line of mortals. And I needed Maximus.