Shadow's Messenger: An Aileen Travers Novel

by T. A. White

  “Nice try. I give you an A for effort.” His grin was slightly feral.

  I elbowed him in the face, grinning happily when he looked back down at me with a bloody lip. How was that for effort?

  His tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood, and his eyes turned husky blue.

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to bloody him up.

  A low pitched growl from our right distracted both of us. A big dog slunk out of the shadows. He looked like a husky but was the size of a mastiff.

  “That’s a dog right?” I asked.

  Brax snarled, his lip lifting to expose a mouth full of fangs. The dog crept closer, his eyes trained on us with strings of drool dripping from his fangs.

  “I thought dogs were afraid of werewolves,” I whispered.

  “That’s not a dog.”

  Brax jackknifed up, dragging me behind him.

  “What do you mean it’s not a dog?”

  He didn’t spare me a glance. “I mean it’s not a dog.”

  “Then what is it.”

  “Werewolf.”

  Werewolf. I looked back at the beast. It was a lot bigger than any wolf I’d ever seen at the zoo. Bulkier and taller too. His fur was dark brown on top and fading to a creamy white around his legs. He would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the bald patches and bloody wounds all over his body.

  The car was still several blocks from here. I didn’t think I could outrun the wolf.

  “I thought you were an alpha. Don’t wolves have to listen to the alpha?”

  “They do have to listen to the alpha.” His voice was deep and still managed to sound angry.

  “Tell him to go away.”

  “I would, but he’s not listening.”

  “What do you mean he’s not listening? Try again.”

  We backed down the street as the wolf steadily advanced.

  “I have been trying. There’s something wrong with him. He’s not listening to cues.” It sounded like he was talking to himself more than me. “He shouldn’t be challenging me like this. All of his instincts should be telling him to run.”

  That was not ideal. I reached for the silver knife in my belt.

  “Is silver as effective on wolves as fiction says?” I asked.

  He didn’t take his eyes off the advancing threat to see what I was doing.

  “Yes.”

  That was good.

  I readied the blade, holding it loose and firm in my hand. I didn’t have much practice in knife fighting. Just what friends had demonstrated while goofing around at parties over the years. For some reason, guys always thought I’d be impressed if they did weird things like give me a knife fighting lesson. Once a guy had shown me how to swallow fire. I had to take him to the ER afterwards, but it had been entertaining right up until he started screaming.

  “Stay behind me,” Brax ordered, running forward just as the wolf leapt.

  They came together in a crash of snarls and growls, each one moving almost quicker than my eyes could follow. Brax gripped the wolf’s head, preventing it from sinking its teeth in his throat. The wolf raked his claws along Brax’s arms and legs, creating long, bloody furrows of torn flesh. A bellow of pain escaped Brax even as his arms tightened around the wolf’s neck.

  I darted forward, sinking my blade between its ribs, only to withdraw and do it again. Brax held him immobile as I stabbed, again and again. The wolf refused to die.

  I changed my angle and stabbed into his abdomen. My knife skated against something hard, before it gave way. The wolf let out a spine tingling howl as he thrashed and heaved, nearly jerking himself loose. Before long, his struggles eased until he hung limp from Brax’s arms.

  Brax threw the wolf away, sending him crashing into a tree where he lay boneless.

  “He really did not want to die,” I said. My arms were covered in black gunk. It should have been blood. I sniffed. The black smelled of rot, like the blood had been sitting for weeks and weeks. It smelled like what I’d found in the alley behind Lou’s. It wasn’t an exact match. This didn’t smell nearly as bad, but it definitely had a lot in common with that smell.

  “That should not have happened,” Brax said, without taking his eyes off the wolf. “He should have bled out much sooner.”

  “This blood smells similar to what was in the alley,” I told him.

  Brax’s eerie ice blue eyes shifted to me and he leaned forward, inhaling deeply. I held still, not wanting to provoke him. His wolf seemed close to the surface, and I didn’t know how good Brax’s control was.

  “This is wrong. This is all wrong,” he growled. “Our blood does not smell like this.”

  I suspected not many people’s blood smelled like this. It didn’t change the facts.

  I walked over to the body. Somehow, in some way, this wolf had a link to whatever had killed the werewolf at the bar, and all the other deaths that had happened over the summer. I crouched down next to it.

  “What are you doing?” Brax asked, coming to stand behind me.

  The smell was worse up close. I don’t know how I’d missed it while we’d been fighting with the creature. Moreover, Brax should have been able to smell it long before it got close enough to attack.

  I picked up a stick and lifted the wolf’s head. Its glassy eyes stared vacantly past mine. The pupils were dilated and filmy white, which was strange. It usually took a few hours after death for eyes to gain that appearance.

  “Did you notice any type of smell before fighting him? Or even during?”

  “No,” Brax said slowly as he thought back. “I didn’t, and I should have. This smell is distinctive enough that I would have been able to pick it up from several miles away.”

  Miles? Really? I knew their noses were more sensitive than mine but not by that much. It made sense though. A wolf’s nose was a hundred times more powerful than a human’s and could outperform a dog’s. I just hadn’t realized how much of the skill translated over to the human form.

  The sound of metal sliding against metal came from the wolf’s neck. I leaned closer. There, a piece of chain around it. I picked up another stick and worked it under the chain to lift it free from the fur. It took some work but now that I knew what it was I eventually got the chain and the amulet attached free of the neck. My knife had caught on the chain and snapped it during the fight. I was surprised it had stayed there given Brax tossed him through the air like a Frisbee.

  “What is that?” Brax asked, squatting down beside me.

  I shook my head, holding the amulet up with the sticks. I didn’t want to touch it. Given that I suspected a witch was involved in this somehow, I didn’t want to take the chance it was ensorcelled.

  The body hissed and crunched. Brax grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I bobbled the sticks, dropping the amulet.

  “Wait.”

  Brax didn’t wait, hauling me further away as the body started deteriorating, a fine dust rising in the air.

  A face appeared in the dust as a voice hissed, “It’s mine. Where is it? Where is it? I know you’ve taken it. It’s mine.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You have it. I know you have it. Tell me where it is. If you don’t give it to me, I will curse your family line and hunt all of your descendants down and kill them in their sleep. I will deny you a warrior’s death so you languish on this earth, forever denied the halls of your ancestors.”

  The face morphed between a human’s and a wolf’s, shifting and changing the features one at a time. Brax grabbed the knife from where I’d stashed it in my belt and threw it. Silver glinted as it spun through the air, dispelling the mist. The voice screamed, the sound enraged and powerful as it echoed through the air before both face and mist disappeared.

  “Holy shit. What was that?” I asked.

  Nothing I’d read in fiction books or heard from other supernaturals could explain what I’d just seen.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? How ca
n you not know?” I asked.

  He was a werewolf. An alpha. He had a better education in these matters than me. He should know what that was.

  His face was fierce as he glared at me. “There are more creatures in this world than can be named in any book. I don’t know the names of all of them.”

  “Do you at least have a guess?”

  “Not one I’m willing to share with you.”

  I was betting not. He probably just didn’t want to admit he was as clueless as the baby vamp.

  It didn’t matter if he had a guess or not. If he wasn’t willing to share it with me, he wasn’t much use.

  I walked away. Time to get back to figuring out where I could find a computer.

  “Aileen Travers.”

  I ground to a halt but didn’t turn.

  “That’s your name isn’t it?” he asked. His voice sounded like he was right behind me. “Aileen Travers.”

  I turned around. He was only a step or two away. In easy grabbing distance. I folded my arms over my chest and tried to project a confidence I didn’t feel.

  “What makes you think that?” I asked.

  He gave me a smooth smile and pulled out a phone, holding it up screen side facing me. My phone. I’d forgotten he had it.

  He turned the screen towards him. “It’s funny. A call came in the day after you escaped. When I listened to the voicemail, I discovered a few interesting things.”

  Only one person would have left me a voicemail.

  “I’m pretty sure I left that locked,” I said.

  One side of his mouth tilted up in a half smile. “I have a guy.”

  “And? Is that all you’ve got? A voicemail?”

  “Enough to know your name is Aileen Travers. Your mother is upset with you. Something about scaring your sister?”

  That little tattle tale. I’d hoped she would keep our argument to herself, but it sounded like she’d gone running to Mom as soon as I left. That must have been some voicemail my mom left. She gave him everything.

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his point made. If he had someone good enough to break the security on the phone, it would be possible to find all he needed to know by simply knowing my name.

  “There’s a reason the vampires pull their newly made out of their prior life,” he told me. “Remaining a part of your family’s lives puts everybody in danger.”

  “That’s not your choice to make.”

  “Maybe not but if you don’t come with me, I’m going to tell the vampires exactly who you are and how you’ve been in contact with your family. See how long you last once they know your name and the location of your human family.”

  He had me. He knew it, and I knew it. I wouldn’t risk their safety. I had no quips or retorts. For now, I had no choice but to go with him.

  He didn’t wait for my agreement, walking towards me and grabbing my arm to haul me after him.

  “You don’t have to grab,” I told him. “You know I’ll go with you.”

  He didn’t bother responding, continuing down the street to a car parked in front of a fire hydrant. Brave of him. The meter maids down here went after parking violations with a rabid intensity. He opened the door and shoved me inside, slamming it shut after me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he got into the driver’s seat.

  He didn’t respond as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. Guess it was going to be a surprise.

  Chapter Seven

  An hour outside the city, the car’s headlights illuminated a two story farm house. We were far enough out that the roads no longer had formal names, just a bunch of numbers.

  The house looked like it was built back in the early 1900s. Set back from the road, it had a wrap-around porch with a rocking chair and several potted plants, lending it a warm, homey appearance. An extension had been added to the back with a careful attention to detail, allowing it to blend in with the rest of the house.

  It was cute and definitely not what I pictured as a werewolf’s den. I had something a little more rustic in mind. Maybe a lodge or even one of those houses that looked like it was falling down around its owners. Not this white picket fence house.

  As we pulled up, three men came to stand on the porch, watching us get out.

  “See you found the escapee,” the one on the steps observed.

  He wasn’t familiar, but I hadn’t gotten a good look at all of the wolves at the bar. The other two were people I recognized. One being Declan, looking mildly interested in my presence. The other was the man from Miriam’s shop. The glare he leveled at me was the kind reserved for when someone had mortally offended you, like when they kicked your puppy or took the last piece of pizza. I didn’t know what I’d done to earn that level of enmity.

  “What’s she doing here?” he asked, not taking his eyes off me.

  The first man gave him a slow look. “Since when were you high enough in the pack to ask questions like that? Unless you were planning on a challenge, Victor.”

  Victor scowled at the first man and folded his arms over his muscled chest. “You won’t always be beta, Clay.”

  The first man’s easy going manner disappeared. He straightened and stared Victor down.

  “Is that a challenge, boyo?”

  Victor held his gaze for a minute before breaking eye contact and stalking inside the house.

  The group was silent for a long minute after the door slammed shut.

  I felt a little awkward as I waited for the tension to fade. I felt a little bad for the guy. He’d asked a simple question, and it had devolved into a dominance game. If this was how every interaction was between werewolves, I was glad I’d dodged that bullet. Guarding every word out of my mouth would be exhausting.

  I followed Brax up the stairs, lingering behind by a couple of steps.

  Clay had relaxed back against the post with a pleasant expression on his face as he smiled at me. I stared back, not changing expression. I was here under duress. I figured that excused me from having to make pleasantries with my captors.

  “Was that necessary?” Brax said.

  Clay shrugged. “It’ll do him good. Perhaps it’ll curb some of his more dickish tendencies.”

  “Unlikely,” Declan observed.

  Clay watched me with a tilted head. “You’re not what I pictured. Thought you’d be taller and a lot more buff.”

  “I’m devastated I don’t live up to your imagination,” I said.

  To my surprise, Clay threw his head back and laughed. “That’s more like what I pictured. I like her.”

  “My life is complete. I can die happy.” I turned to Brax. “So where is my cage this time? The basement again?”

  He watched me with cool eyes. “I think I’ve properly motivated you to stay so we can forgo locking you up this time. First though, we’re going to have a chat.” He stepped closer. “And you’re going to tell me everything you know about these murders, including why the vampires are so interested.”

  My interrogation was pretty tame by most standards. There was no waterboarding or sensory deprivation. They simply sat me down in the kitchen and served me a mug of blood.

  I sniffed cautiously when the feral woman from the bar set it in front of me. I wouldn’t put it past her to put something in it after I pushed her down the stairs.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t poison it,” she told me with a wry smile. “If I wanted revenge, I’d be much more direct. A fist to the face or a couple swipes with my claws.”

  That was a pleasant image.

  “Are you planning on revenge?” I asked. It’d be good to know, though I doubted I could trust her answer.

  She shrugged on shoulder. “Not particularly. You were just looking out for yourself. I would have done the same in your place.”

  “How very understanding.” I wrapped my hands around the mug. It was warm and the temptation to down it like a frat boy chugging a beer was nearly irresistible. I didn’t want to do that in front of the four gather
ed around me.

  “Of course, if the opportunity presented to shove you down a flight of stairs, I would take it.”

  I snorted, swallowing my laughter back as I was momentarily distracted from the draw of the blood. That was honest.

  “Is the blood not to your taste?” she asked, changing topic with whiplash speed.

  “It’s fine. I’m just not hungry right this moment.”

  I wasn’t hungry; I was starving. The two bags of blood I’d had at the club weren’t nearly enough given all the activity of the last few days.

  Declan shifted forward, drawing my attention, “How old are you?”

  I debated the merits of telling the truth. From what Brax had said during our argument earlier, it was obvious that most of them knew I was young in terms of vampire years. The question then became how much of the truth I should fudge. The vampire from the club had seemed disbelieving of my age.

  “Less than three years, I’m guessing,” Brax observed when I let the silence linger too long.

  How the hell did he know that?

  Reading the expression on my face, he said, “You got out of the Army a little over two years ago. No way would you have been able to serve long term with your condition.”

  I upgraded his hacker’s connections from good to superior. The military’s firewalls were nothing to sneeze at so any hacker able to get through them to view a service member’s records was extremely good at his profession.

  “Two years,” I said.

  “That won’t be enough,” the woman said abruptly. She slid off the cabinet she’d claimed as a seat and held her wrist out to me. I caught a tantalizing whiff of dark chocolate and champagne before I jerked my head back.

  “What the hell?” I said, glaring up at her.

  “You’re too young to survive on bagged. You need blood from the source.”

  She held her wrist out to me again. I shoved it away. She smelled so good.

  “No, thank you.” It was a struggle to sound polite around the fangs that were suddenly crowding my mouth.

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve been bitten before. You can’t hurt me.”