by S. Young
Reluctantly leaving the market, Thea jumped on a tram and less than forty minutes later, she got off at her apartment complex. It was one of many gray, industrial-looking apartment blocks in this part of Kraków. Despite the square of grass and trees in the middle, nothing could pretty-up her new neighborhood. The windows on the ground floor had decorative iron bars. Thea glowered, steering clear. Not even their floral motifs could detract from the prison-like appearance.
Someone had broken the lock on the door of her apartment block, probably ages ago, and Thea felt her mood plummet as she stepped inside the dank entry hall, the smell of cannabis trickling out from one of the apartments. The building reminded her of the one she’d stayed at in Budapest, but it was nothing new to her. For the last six years, this was all she’d been able to afford. It was all many people could afford, which meant like everywhere she’d stayed, Thea’s neighbors would be a mix of the good and not-so-good kind.
On the third floor, inside her dark apartment, she ignored the smell of damp and set about heating the can of soup she’d bought yesterday. Just as she was settling down to watch a television show on the crappy television that came with the apartment, the hairs all over Thea’s body rose.
She froze, turning away from the American comedy she was watching. As a shiver skated down her spine, Thea reached for the remote and switched off the television. This feeling, this awareness, differed from the one she’d experienced back in Budapest with the gunman. There was no thudding heart or feeling of dread.
But it was still her body’s way of warning her.
There was another supernatural near.
Putting down the bowl on the old scuffed coffee table in front of her, Thea’s footsteps on bare feet were barely audible to a human ear. But a supernatural would hear them, so she masked the sounds of her movements as she used a talent she’d labeled her cloaking gift. Pressing against the door of the apartment, she peered out through the spyglass. A man and a woman who seemed farther away than they were in real life stumbled down the hall kissing. They fell against the wall in their passion, the young woman giggling as the tall man broke away from her and walked toward Thea’s end of the hall.
“Come back,” the girl whined in accented English.
The man looked over his shoulder at her and then turned toward Thea, grinning. As his head turned, the light from the bare bulb overhead caught in his eyes and they flashed silver, like liquid mercury, before returning to normal.
Vampire.
Well, that explained all the hair on her body rising in warning.
The vampire stopped at the door next to hers and stuck a key into the keyhole.
She’d moved in next to a freaking vampire!
Of course, she had.
Thea groaned to herself and rested her forehead against the door. She’d have to move. Find somewhere else to stay. It was too dangerous living in proximity to another supernatural.
“What are you doing?” The girl’s voice brought Thea’s head up and a cry caught in her throat when her eye looked into a blue one.
She froze, cloaking herself in silence.
“Abram?”
Finally, the eye began to retreat until Thea could see the vampire’s whole face, and then finally his body. His eyes narrowed on Thea’s door.
“Abram.” The girl snuggled into his side. “You’re being strange.”
“More so than normal?” he asked in a British accent.
Thea watched him focus his attention on the girl’s neck and forced herself to remain still, silent. The girl’s fate was no business of hers. The last time she’d stepped in to help a human, she’d had to go on the run again.
She couldn’t take on a vampire for a stranger.
She just couldn’t.
An emotion Thea would not label as guilt swept through her.
“Take me inside,” the girl whispered, but Thea could hear every word. “Take me inside and bite me again. I love when you sink your teeth into me.”
Oh.
Well then.
No need to feel guilty about a lack of a rescue effort.
The vampire and his … whatever … disappeared into the apartment but not before he threw Thea’s door one last curious look.
She sagged with relief when he was finally out of sight.
And then Thea immediately threw everything into her backpack and got the hell out of there before the vampire decided to satisfy his own curiosity.
4
Conall surveyed the map on his computer. It was part of a file Ashforth had collated over the years, tracking Thea Quinn’s movements across Europe from information he’d gathered from different witnesses and even the authorities.
“Why have the police not arrested her?” Conall asked, frowning as he flicked through document after document that Ashforth had loaded onto his computer. Many of them were photographs of her victims. The only victims missing from the images were Ashforth’s wife and security guards, but Conall understood those were perhaps too distressing to have on file.
Ashforth sat on the edge of Conall’s desk, looking out at the view of the serene loch and its surrounding mountains. “Her DNA isn’t human. Which means some authorities have grown a little too curious about it, so I’ve made sure it’s not in the system. And anytime a police officer seemed especially dogged in his or her pursuit of the truth,” he said, turning to Conall, “I silenced them with money. Most of these are city police officers already overworked and underpaid. They’re happy to take the money and let the mystery go unsolved.”
“Not all of them, surely?”
The older man shrugged. “There are other ways to silence someone.”
Unease settled over him. “I dinnae work with murderers, Ashforth.”
His eyes widened. “I would never. I merely meant that … I’ve done things I’m not proud of in my pursuit of Thea. Blackmail, as you know, has been useful in that pursuit.”
Blackmail was dishonorable and against the code of his pack. Conall bristled, not entirely happy to be joining forces with a man who used it like a weapon. But Callie had agreed to go with Ashforth when Conall departed on the hunt for Thea Quinn, and James would stay by her side at Castle Cara.
Pulling up the next document, he frowned at the image of a newspaper clipping. The headline read “MIRACLE CHILD SURVIVES PLANE CRASH.”
“What’s this?”
Ashforth glanced down at the computer. Sadness darkened his expression. “It’s how Thea came to live with us. This is information important to your hunt, Conall. Thea’s parents were British. William and Laura Quinn. They moved to the States before Thea was born and not long after Thea’s birth, Laura worked for my company. She was extraordinarily intelligent and worked her way up to CFO. It meant there wasn’t a lot of time for vacations. During the summer the family always drove up from the city to our estate in the Hamptons and stayed with us for a few weeks.
“Thea had never been on a plane before … so they didn’t know.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Anyway, when she was twelve years old, Laura and William took a family vacation to Hawaii.” He looked directly into Conall’s eyes. “Thea knew something terrible would happen. One of her gifts. A preternatural awareness of danger. She told me she’d begged her parents to get off the plane, that she felt funny, but they didn’t listen. Later the investigation unearthed that the plane suffered mechanical failure. It crashed, killing everyone on board … everyone but Thea. Someone found her outside the wreckage with barely a scratch on her.”
Jesus fuck, Conall mused, staring at the newspaper article. No wonder the lass is fucked up. She watched hundreds of people plummet in terror to their deaths, including her parents.
“You can’t bring her back by plane.”
That brought his head up. “What?”
Ashforth shook his head. “I tried a few times to get her on an aircraft and she blew the windshield out of one and fried the engine in another. Obviously before we took off. Thankfully.”
�
��How did she manage that? What is she?”
“I have no idea. I wish I knew.” Ashforth scowled at the computer. “But when her emotions are heightened … things … happen. Things I’m not sure she can control.”
“So how the hell am I supposed to bring her back?”
The businessman gave him a clipped nod and pushed away from the table. He walked over to the briefcase he’d placed on Conall’s armchair.
Ashforth pulled a syringe out of the briefcase. It was filled with a dark liquid. “A full dose will knock Thea out, long enough for you to get her into your vehicle. I’m afraid the safest way to travel will be by car.”
“I thought you said nothing could harm her?”
“This drug merely weakens her.”
“What is it?”
Looking regretful, the older man shook his head. “I can’t divulge that information.”
Growing increasingly suspicious, Conall relaxed in his chair and eyed the man with lazy perusal that belied his tension. “If you dinnae know what Thea is, how on earth did you concoct a drug that affects her?”
“Trial and error through the years.”
Wait a second … “You experimented on her?”
“When she started to become volatile, we had to find a way to calm her.”
Conall stared at the computer. Question upon question buzzed around in his mind and tightened in his gut.
“Callie’s a vibrant young person,” Ashforth said. The man was studying a photograph that sat on the sideboard in Conall’s office. It was of Conall and Caledonia with their parents.
“Aye.”
“If it weren’t for the chair, you wouldn’t even know she was sick.”
“I know what you’re doing.” He let the man hear his displeasure.
“I’m not very subtle, am I?” Ashforth shrugged wearily.
Callie.
Callie, whose whole being had brightened like a full moon when she heard there was a cure. She’d had reservations when she learned the trade-off was the capture of another young woman, but Conall had assured her that Thea was a murderer who deserved to be brought to justice.
And there was proof she was.
She’d killed people. Innocent people.
What did it matter if Ashforth was lying about the past?
The woman was dangerous, and Callie needed her blood to live.
“I havenae forgotten why I’m doing this. I will bring Thea to you. However, I dinnae fully understand how I’m supposed to pass through border control at Calais with an unconscious woman in my car?”
Ashforth waved the syringe. “A full dose will knock her out. A slight dose won’t but it will weaken her. She’ll be too weak to make a fuss. And she wouldn’t. One of Thea’s fears is being captured by the authorities.”
Somewhat satisfied by that answer but irritated by the news that their journey back to Scotland would be longer than he’d presumed, Conall exhaled. “So … her last known whereabouts was Budapest?”
“Yes. She won’t have a passport.” Ashforth reached for his briefcase again. “Thea has a gift for making people see what they want to see so she could travel to Europe by making border security think they could see her passport.”
The more Conall discovered about the girl, the more uneasy he became. A gift that invaded people’s minds was no gift at all. It was despicable. What the hell was she? “And what if she uses that particular talent on me?”
Ashforth shook his head as he brought a blue passport over to Conall. “It doesn’t work on supernaturals, much to her frustration.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve witnessed it.” He put the US passport on Conall’s desk. “I’ll arrange a car for you to be there in Budapest when you arrive. Her last known address is in that information.” Ashforth gestured to the computer. “Her scent will still be in that apartment.”
Scents faded over time and Ashforth had nothing of Thea’s that was recent enough to use. Conall would have to collect that himself. “If I pick up the wrong scent?”
“You won’t. I’ve worked with other supernaturals who’ve met Thea. They tell me she has a distinct scent. Something that marks her as different from human, vampire, witch, or wolf.”
Understanding, Conall nodded. At least that was something. He didn’t want to go on a fucking wild-goose chase.
Turning back to the screen, casually clicking through the documents, he came to a photograph of a young woman. Everything in the room faded out but the image.
It was a candid shot of a brunette looking over her shoulder as she stood in an outdoor restaurant. She wore an apron around her hips and held a notepad, clearly a waitress.
Heart beating fast, Conall clicked on the mouse and zoomed in on her face.
She didn’t wear makeup. Everything about her was extraordinary enough without it and Conall couldn’t even pinpoint why. Long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Eyes big and dark, thickly lashed. Her nose cute. Her lips small but lush. Round, high cheekbones. Skin smooth and tan. If it weren’t for the golden freckles that lightly covered her nose and cheeks, she would have the appearance of an exotic Latin beauty.
As it was, she was a cross between that and the girl next door.
“Thea,” Ashforth murmured.
Conall let go of his breath, unease and trepidation moving through him. Thea was technically no more beautiful than any good-looking woman … and yet, she left a man feeling as though he’d never looked upon anything so lovely.
“Don’t be fooled by her beauty, Conall,” Ashforth implored. “It’s one of her gifts. A weapon. Part of whatever makes her the dangerous creature she is.”
Conall tore his eyes from her photograph. “She looks young.”
“She’s twenty-five. Old enough to know better.”
Nodding, Conall clicked off the page, disturbed by his reaction to the image, and transferred the file Ashforth provided to his laptop for his own records. “Arrange the flight and a car for three days from now.”
“But—”
“The full moon is in phase, Ashforth. I’m not flying anywhere for three days. Understood?”
The man frowned but nodded. “Of course.”
“Callie and James will be given over to your custody on the morning I leave.” He stood up, towering over the businessman. “And if anything happens to my sister or my beta, or it turns out this girl’s blood cannot cure Callie, by the time I’m finished with you, there’ll be nothing left to bury.”
“Thank you for allowing us to join you tonight,” Peter Canid said as they walked through the Coach House, heading toward the kitchen and back door.
Conall glanced over his shoulder at Canid, his daughter Sienna, and her brother Richard, whom Conall had met a few days ago. The betrothal agreement still wasn’t signed. They had decided to wait until Conall returned unscathed from his hunt. Upon his return, they would sign the agreement and hopefully marry within the next few months, joining their two packs in a powerful alliance.
Between preparation for the hunt and his responsibilities to his businesses, Conall had no time to spend with Sienna. They’d spoken little. Not that it mattered. Once they married, they’d have plenty of time for that.
As for tonight, he felt it only right to ask the Canids to join the pack run. They were to be family after all. His gaze brushed over Richard Canid before turning his attention forward. Not that it particularly pleased him to add Sienna’s brother to his list of familial responsibilities. The wolf was arrogant and spoiled.
“Yeah, it’ll be cute to see such a small pack running together,” Richard sneered.
Case in point.
The little fucker thought he was better than them.
“Small pack they may be,” Peter said, a warning in his words, “but Pack MacLennan are one of the oldest packs in the world. You’re about to experience something extraordinary, son.”
There was a genuine appreciation in Canid’s voice that pleased Conall. The man’s respect for h
im was honest and true. Conall couldn’t ask for more than that from a father-in-law and ally.
Leading them outside, they faced a good percentage of Pack MacLennan—all of those who lived on Loch Torridon and even a few who had returned home from the city for this special event on the last night of the full moon.
Torridon Coach House sat on the water, surrounded by towering trees. Those trees acted like a trail from the land to the rear of the house, up the hill, interrupted by the single-track road, and then up and up again. Eventually the trees dispersed, baring the rugged moss- and grass-covered rock of the vast mountain peaks.
Conall stood, watching his clan who had crowded in to run with him.
“You may join the pack.” Conall gestured to his people.
Peter and Sienna bowed their heads respectfully and strode toward the others, while Richard walked away without looking at him. He felt tension emanate from his pack members and knew he was not alone in his dislike for the wolf. Perhaps he’d teach him who was alpha here once the shift began.
The tiny villages along the coast of their loch, and the mountains beyond, were scoured for any sign of human activity. Thankfully, they found a climber in trouble and had him airlifted to the hospital in Inverness.
Otherwise they detected no other humans.
Which meant they could run in their true forms.
A werewolf needed to unleash their wolf and the moon seemed to agree. The legends were true. They had no choice but to turn under the full moon. Conall imagined that inconvenient for some, but here the pack had the privacy they needed to turn. Staying in human form all the time was a kind of imprisonment, anyway. When they turned on a full moon, they usually ran and hunted the mountains separately or in small groups. Mostly they did this unscathed as Conall owned not just the land around the loch but the entire estate beyond.
However, it took a lot of coordinated effort to make sure their small drop of earth was safe to run as a pack, and so pack runs were few and far between. It was one thing for a human here and there to witness the presence of a wolf—an animal extinct from Britain for centuries—but it was quite another for a human to witness over a hundred running together.