The Wolf's Bait (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 2)

by Patricia Blackmoor

  I missed Wolf’s Peak. Funny, when I first moved in, I never imagined I would miss that place. My first impression was that it was too large and too cold. I couldn’t imagine being able to find my way around with ease, but now I could walk the halls in my sleep. I had been sure that I wouldn’t find comfort in the manor, but now that library was my favorite place on earth, and the gardens the most peaceful. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, and now I wondered if I was ever going to see it again.

  More than all of this, more than my fear for my safety or my homesickness, I was lonely. Jasper was at the foremost of my thoughts. Sure, he was gone all the time, often in London or away on business, but this was the longest we had been apart since our wedding. We had finally gotten to the point where he was sleeping in my bed when he was home. I adored waking up next to him, to feel his warmth beside me on the cold winter mornings. All I wanted was to wake up next to him.

  Everyone else had someone with them, and it made me feel alone all the time. I know they weren’t doing it purposely, but I had a gaping hole in my heart. Waking up alone, not having someone to hold at night, it was truly taking a toll on me. I found myself crying when I sat up alone at night, and it wasn’t merely the pregnancy hormones. My heart ached every time I opened my eyes to an empty room. I was alone. Utterly, utterly alone, and I hated it. I wanted to be home with my husband.

  My only constant company was the baby, but of course, that didn’t count. Sure, I was used to his constant kicking and somersaults. I was used to him deciding to take up residence in my ribs when I sat down. He was my companion, but it was hardly equal to what everyone else in the house had. I couldn’t hold my baby yet. I couldn’t snuggle him or cuddle him or tell him that I loved him, and he couldn’t do any of the same to me. He couldn’t snuggle into my shoulder or smile at me.

  Even Daniel, at a year and a half, was a companion for Annabelle. He loved his mother, snuggling up to her when he was tired, playing with her when he was awake. Granted, a toddler wasn’t perfect company for a grown woman, but at least she had someone to hold at night, to pull tight when she was worried. She had someone to give her sloppy kisses and hugs on request, someone utterly devoted. I didn’t even have that. At least Annabelle had someone to love, someone to care for, someone to fill her time.

  Hazel and Adam were almost inseparable. I rarely saw one without the other. They were always cuddled up together on the loveseat, or they would eat meals together, or read to each other. They were absolutely adorable in the worst way—the kind that made you smile, but then make you sick because it was so sweet. They had given up on any pretext of subtlety, constantly flowing in and out of each other’s rooms. No one said anything. Really, who were we to judge?

  Bridget, for her part, was subtler. I often caught her and Conor together, talking. They never showed their affection publicly, but I suspected they showed it plenty in private. I had about given up on trying to talk Bridget out of it. One of us deserved happiness before we died. I might as well let her have as much as possible. I suspected that if we were to survive this and make it back to Wolf’s Peak, she wouldn’t be my handmaiden much longer. I wrestled with whether I should tell her about Conor’s lycanthropy, but I was too tired and too miserable to do anything about it. She hadn’t listened to my caution, and now she could deal with the consequences herself.

  The men spent the subsequent days doing everything possible to ensure that we were safe. Conor had demonstrated the reinforcement of the doors and windows by throwing rocks and even himself at them; they withstood the attack better than I had hoped. Still, they added extra bolts to the doors and made sure that they were locked at all times. They even barricaded the doors and windows with furniture and nailed wood onto the inside of the windows to barricade them, although if Seth managed make it through the iron frames of the windows, I’m not sure what wood would do. I think it was to make everyone feel like they were doing something to make us feel safe, even if their attempts were completely superfluous. Still, seeing them add the extra security was a comfort.

  We had decided as a group that no one would leave the house unless it was an absolute emergency. We were to stay barricaded inside, not setting foot through the frames of the doorways. We’d assess each emergency on a case by case basis, were any to arise, but until then we were staying locked up until given news otherwise. Perhaps it would be suffocating, but I preferred it to the possible danger we faced by going outside.

  Adam and Conor switched off keeping watch on the house. One of them was always on alert, pacing from window to window. The two of them never slept at the same time. I expressed concern that it would be too difficult for them, that they wouldn’t get enough sleep, but Adam promised me that in addition to all the fun things that came with being a werewolf, like advanced sight and smell and hearing and healing, they also needed less sleep. I made him promise that if things got too hard, they would take a break.

  Bridget also spent her time on alert. She would walk with Conor as he made his rounds. At first, I attributed it to her trying to spend more time with him, but even when they were apart, she was vigilant. Like me, she noticed every strange sound or shadow, but she didn’t jump, she paused, assessing the threat. She had taken Conor’s instructions to protect me very seriously. While I knew that her street smarts would be no match for Seth when he was in his wolf form, it was comforting to know that she was looking out for me.

  We were sitting in the drawing room. Adam had drifted off on the loveseat, and Hazel was curled up next to him reading a book. Annabelle and Daniel sat by the fire as Annabelle read the same book to Daniel over and over again at his behest. Bridget and I were seated at a table by the window playing a game of mahjong, although I wondered if I should simply rearrange the board and play it solitaire. It seemed impossible to hold her attention; every sound made her turn her head. After I had coaxed her into taking a turn, she would immediately glance back at the door. After I had been about to give up on the game, she jumped up from her seat. I watched her for a moment, confused, until I followed her out to the entry.

  From there I heard it: the sound of a carriage pulling up. Conor had heard it too and had made it to the door before us. We waited, not breathing, not wanting to obscure whatever sound was going to come next. It could be something as innocuous as a villager delivering groceries, or it could be Seth come to kill us all with the unexpected. I hated not knowing. It was a feeling that nestled itself in my stomach and spread to my chest, tightening the muscles there so hard that my heart beat faster and my breath became shallow.

  We waited.

  It was too quiet to hear what was going on, but Conor could hear it. His body tensed, his hands forming fists by his sides. The hair on the back of my neck stood up in anticipation.

  There was a knock on the door.

  The three of us exchanged a look. Our glances all said the same thing. Do we open it? Do we dare risk making ourselves vulnerable, breaking the perimeter, letting whatever was out there inside?

  There was another knock, impatient, a quick rat–a–tat that meant to portray the message that the knocker had somewhere else to be. I took a deep breath and nodded to Conor.

  He nodded back.

  Conor took a few strides across the room. His fingers lingered on the deadbolt for a moment, the indecision clear on his face. He bit his lip, and my heart thundered in my chest as I waited.

  The knock came again, even quicker and even more impatient. Conor slid the deadbolt across, the sound echoing through the entry. He slid the second bolt. Then the third.

  The door was unlocked.

  Finally, he pulled open the door. Cold air rushed into the room, sending goosebumps up my arms as I waited anxiously.

  Nothing happened. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, perhaps for something or someone to come rushing at Conor, knocking him down, tearing at his throat before turning its attention toward me, but none of that came to pass. Instead, Conor exchanged a few quiet words with the man at the
door before stepping back inside. I heard the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels as our visitor left us.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  Conor held up an ivory envelope. “He came to drop off this for us,” he said. He slid his finger under the red wax seal and pulled out the piece of paper. I waited nervously, but relief washed over his face.

  “Looks like it’s time to go home,” he said.

  I smiled. Home.

  Chapter Twenty–One

  Twilight had settled into the sky, a dusky blue lingering over the treetops. As anxious as we all were to get home, no one wanted to travel at night. It wasn’t safe, not only because of Seth, but for a myriad of reasons. In the night, the horses might get spooked, it would be impossible to see poor road conditions, and it would be an obvious invitation for robbers and looters. We wanted to get home as soon as possible, but we collectively decided it would be smarter and safer to leave in the morning. I would be exhausted, getting up before the sun, but the earlier we left, the earlier we would get back to Wolf’s Peak. I could sleep in the carriage.

  Home.

  We were going home.

  After the word had spread that we would be leaving in the early hours of the morning, Bridget and I went up to my room to pack. I wanted everything as ready as possible so I wouldn’t have to get up any earlier than necessary. I pulled out clothes for the morning: one of my warmest dresses coupled with a heavy wool coat for the journey. We hadn’t been outside in days, but the weather had been freezing; I felt the chill through the cracks in the stone and the frames of the windows. I remembered how cold I had been on the way here, and I was not anxious for a repeat, no matter how warm Bridget ran.

  I draped my traveling clothes over the chair beside the fireplace so they would be nice and toasty when I climbed into them in the frozen morning. After that, I was hardly particular, tossing dresses and shoes and coats into the trunk with abandon. When I got to the bottom of the wardrobe, I paused.

  It was the little bundle, the little bag of baby things I had brought just in case. I lifted it out of the wardrobe carefully, holding it to my chest. I was going home tomorrow, which meant that I would be at Wolf’s Peak when I gave birth. I would have Jasper with me. Things hadn’t worked out exactly the way I had wanted, but I would be at home when the baby arrived.

  Bridget had offered to help with the packing, but I declined. It was cathartic to pull everything out of the castle wardrobe and back into my trunk. I was going home, and this reinforced it. As I packed, Bridget watched from a chair, ready to spring into action if I happened to need her assistance.

  “You know, ma’am,” she said, “you’re the happiest I’ve seen you since we’ve been here.”

  “Am I?”

  “No contest. You’re happier now than you were when Annabelle told you she’s expecting, or when Hazel asked you to be a bridesmaid.”

  I paused. She was right, and that was beginning to become a running theme. My unhappiness at leaving Wolf’s Peak had overshadowed even the good that had happened here, and that wasn’t fair to the others. I hadn’t responded with as much celebration as I would have had I been happy. Guilt hammered in my heart. An apology was in order, no question. When we returned home, I would give them the attention they deserved. I would pamper Annabelle and help Hazel with anything she needed. I would be the perfect friend and the perfect bridesmaid to my wonderful friends.

  Once everything was put away, I got ready to turn in for the night. It was earlier than I usually went to sleep, but I knew I’d have to wake up much earlier than I was used to. Despite my attempts at a responsible bedtime, I didn’t fall asleep for several hours. I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable in my pregnant body. Lying on my back hurt my spine, but lying on my side wasn’t usual for me. I couldn’t wait for this baby to come out so I could sleep in peace.

  The pregnancy wasn’t the only thing that was causing me difficulty. On the occasions my eyes slipped closed and I began to drift off, I would be jolted awake by nightmares. I never saw the face of my phantom, but I didn’t need to. I knew it was Seth, and that knowledge prevented me from falling into any sort of sleep that would be considered deep. The night was long, but Bridget roused me much too soon to get ready for our journey.

  She pressed a mug of mint tea into my hands to help me perk up. I sat at the edge of the bed in the icy air, staring at the fire as I drank, trying to wake myself up. Finally, at Bridget’s coaxing, I stepped onto the rug and she helped me into my gown. It hung heavily on my tired frame, but I knew I would be thankful for the extra layers. I had to sit back down so Bridget could put my shoes and stockings on me, and it was all I could do not to fall backward onto the bed and try to catch a few minutes of sleep before we had to leave.

  The carriage arrived as the sun was breaking over the horizon, the sky a sort of strawberry color. The men came to collect our luggage, and I waited inside the entry, coat pulled around my shoulders, as they loaded everything into the carriage. Finally, they beckoned for us to join them, and we stepped out into the frigid morning air. My breath came out in little puffs of steam as we piled ourselves into the carriage. I knew Bridget wanted to sit with Conor, but to her chagrin I placed myself beside her. This time, it had nothing to do with trying to keep them apart, and everything to do with trying to keep myself warm should my layers not be enough.

  Finally, the horses began walking and the wheels began turning. I glanced out the window as Ashford Castle, the massive stone structure, shrunk behind us. Eventually, the trees blocked our view, and we were no longer able to see it at all.

  No one said much as we traveled. We were utterly exhausted from the last few weeks and didn’t have the energy to converse. I think we were all glad to be going home, except possibly for Bridget, who would no longer be living under the same roof as her sweetheart.

  As the carriage continued down the quiet, snow–sprinkled roads, I snuggled between Bridget and Annabelle. Daniel was cuddled against his mother’s chest, his eyes only slightly open as he tried, and failed, to fight off sleep. Annabelle’s head rested against the side of the coach as she began drifting off as well. Bridget wasn’t sleeping. She was looking out the window, watching the leafless trees pass in front of the gray sky. She appeared to be deep in thought, and I was not inclined to interrupt her, so I leaned back in my seat and let my eyes close.

  I was in that sort of in–between place, not quite asleep but not awake enough, when the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Even in my haze, I knew that was strange. We had plans to make periodic stops on our journey home, the same way we had on the way to the castle. We’d be stopping for restroom breaks and to stretch our legs, and we’d be stopping to eat since we hadn’t had enough food left at the castle to bring with us. We’d only been in the carriage for a few hours, though; it wasn’t nearly time to eat yet, and I was sure that in my half–sleep that I hadn’t heard anyone ask to stop.

  In my hazy state, those were the first things I thought of. What should have struck me as odd was the abrupt way the carriage had stopped, or perhaps the loud, anxious neighing of the horse. It took me a few moments, during which I blinked and stretched and yawned, to realize something was wrong. By that time, Adam and Conor were already standing up, at attention, ready to face whatever was outside.

  Conor called out to the driver, and we waited for a response, but heard nothing. He called out again and I clutched my hands tightly in my lap, praying that he would answer us. We still heard nothing.

  I knew what they wanted to do, but I didn’t want them to do it.

  “Please don’t go out there,” I said.

  “We won’t, not yet,” Conor promised.

  We waited, our breathing coming in short bursts in the cold air, all of us listening with caution.

  Hazel screamed.

  I whirled to see what she was looking at. Her face had lost all its color, her eyes wide and panicked. She was pointing out the window, her hands shaking.

  Outsid
e in the snow was a long, bright streak of scarlet red. Causing that streak was a wolf dragging something in his mouth.

  The body of our driver.

  I put my hand to my mouth. Whether I was trying to suppress a scream or vomit, I didn’t know, but I kept it there nonetheless. My whole body shook.

  There was a bang on the side of the carriage as the horses whined. The whole cabin teetered unsteadily on the wooden wheels. I had no idea what the stability of a carriage was, and I was terrified that if enough wolves flung themselves at the side, we’d go tumbling. I clutched onto Bridget’s arm, my fingernails digging into her coat as I tried in vain to steady myself.

  Conor and Adam exchanged a look. Perhaps I wasn’t a council member, or even a wolf, but I knew what that look said. In order to protect us, they were going to have to shift. In the back of my mind, I knew that meant that Bridget was about to discover their secret, our secret, but I didn’t care. It was better that she knew than for all of us to be maimed. The men didn’t have a choice.

  Adam pulled Hazel from her seat and pushed her urgently toward us, where she fell on top of Bridget’s lap. The men turned away from us as the carriage rocked from another hit, then another, the angry snarls of the werewolves echoing across the winter sky.

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t watch; the transformations always made me sick. I knew how it went. They lost their teeth first, new, sharp teeth growing in their place. Their bodies contorted, changing shape, new bones growing and others fusing together. Fur covered their bodies. It was as painful as it looked, and horrifying to watch. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, somehow thinking that would help block out the sounds of the wolves outside or the transformation in our tight carriage cabin. Still, over the snarls, I heard the teeth dropping onto the carriage floor and the cracking of bones.