The Wolf, The Witch, and the Wasteland (a paranormal post-apocalyptic romance)

by Sweet, Jacqueline

  Lucia nodded but didn’t pull away. This was the closest they’d been and it was delicious. Why couldn’t they have found this closeness on the sands? Her heightened senses picked up the scent of Farid’s arousal. There was no time for this, for any of this. Lucia pushed away the pirate’s warmth and turned to face the old shifter heaped on the floor. If the witch knew about them, time was even more pressing. The time for gentle prodding was over.

  “Farid, pick him up.” The pirate wedged his arms under the old man’s and strained, heaving him to his feet.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, hurry. This old codger is heavier than he looks.”

  She pressed her forehead to Conwynne’s, nose touching nose. It was an intimate gesture, but they were pack and she was the alpha and it felt right. “Awaken,” she said, focusing on the compassion she felt for the man, on the bonds of pack between them.

  “Awaken,” she said louder, envisioning Conwynne as she saw him at his strongest, charging the spider myriad as a great dire wolf.

  “Awaken,” she growled, her voice deepening with alpha power. Her words moved within him, like air from a bellows and the old man blinked. Conwynne shook off Farid’s grip.

  “Yes, yes. Unhand me. I’m old but I’m not weak,” he snarled at the pirate, finding his feet.

  “There he is,” Farid smirked, then planted a kiss on the old man’s forehead.

  “Well done, my lady. Very well done.” Conwynne motioned to brush off his robes—a familiar gesture performed a thousand times—then looked down in dawning recognition as he saw the red jacket armor. “Oh yes. Now I recall.”

  “Are you here with us?” Lucia asked. “I can’t have you falling apart like that once we go into the Maw. You need to be focused, Con.”

  “You’ll need me, my girl. And this,” Conwynne reached under his armor and removed the amulet. Lucia had almost forgotten about it. She hadn’t seen it in weeks—how could it be only weeks, the trip felt so much longer. “Foxtail went to great lengths to steal this, to carry it across the desert to us.”

  “What does it do?” Lucia asked.

  “I’ve seen those before,” Farid said. “They’re Suzerainty keys. Only the highest officers carry them.”

  “Yes,” Conwynne nodded. “The Suzerain lends a portion of his power to those he must entrust with careful missions or commands. Though there is no generosity in the act. He takes from them as much as he gives and when he withdraws his power they are little more than a husk afterwards. Though I doubt they know that. They pretend at being alphas, but wield a fraction of the true power. We must keep out of sight of these alpha-spawn. They will be able to see through our disguises. Their eyes are their lord’s eyes. They are but instruments of his will.”

  “How does it work? The amulet, I mean.” Lucia reached out and touched the blood-red disc. The claw marks etched in the surface—were those the Suzerain’s own? She willed her hand to shift, marveled at the trick of flesh rearranging itself into clawed talons. Would she ever get used to such a thing? She placed her clawed fingers in the grooves carved by the Suzerain, and found them a near match.

  “Is the Suzerain a small man?” she asked, absently.

  “I saw him once, y’know?” Farid drawled, leaning against the bulkhead like they were having a casual chat over drinks and not stuck in the most dangerous place in the wasteland. “In Sala City, growing up. Quinn and I were casing this Suzerainty armory, looking to steal some bolters to start a life of crime, when this parade marches by. At least I thought it was a parade at first. I’d never seen so many red bellies in one place before. Thousands of them, marching in four columns, with the Suzerain in the middle. He was enormous. I took him for a bear shifter at first, but he’s a wolf like you two, isn’t he? In any event, it turns out that the best time to rob one of the dark lord’s weapon caches is right under his nose. Every red belly in town was in the parade. They didn’t leave a single guard at the door.” Farid patted the bolter on his hip. “I’ve had Jolene here ever since.”

  Conwynne smiled. “I bet you did the robbing, while Quinn was lookout.”

  Farid looked offended. “That’s right. What of it?”

  “There are wards on the doors and old security devices. But they are designed to detect shifters. Not humans like you. My sand pirate friend, you are nearly invisible to an alpha’s gifts. No more noticeable than say, a rat.”

  “Look, old man, I’ve had just about enough of your shifter superiority nonsense.” Farid leapt up and got right into Conwynne’s placid face, wagging a finger under the old man’s nose.

  “It’s an asset, Farid,” Lucia said. “In his own grumpy old alpha way, Conwynne is trying to compliment you.”

  “Or at least your usefulness.” Conwynne’s eyes twinkled—he was enjoying getting a rise out of the pirate.

  “Tell me how the amulet works.” Lucia didn’t have time for this male posturing. There was a job to do. They had friends to rescue. A battle station to storm.

  “You need but hold it in your fingers, and press it to any door in the Warmaw. As far as the Suzerainty knows, the only alphas here are their twisted mockeries of alphas. It will let you pass with impunity.”

  A clanging sounded from the exterior of the ship followed by the sound of shouted orders. The doors of the ship groaned as red jackets forced them open from the outside, prying them open with some shrieking machine. The Letherine swung in her moorings from the assault, rocking underfoot like a boat at sea. Packages slid and shifted in the repaired nettings.

  “I’ve been boarded before,” Farid offered. “They’re going to go over every inch of the Letherine. They’ll have an officer come in here, too, sniffing around for clues.”

  “We need to leave,” Lucia said. She wrapped her glaive in a duffle, stuffed the rest of it with paper so it didn’t look too obvious that she was carrying a sword through the battleship.

  “You two go find our friends in the ship’s prison level,” Conwynne said. “With your armor on, you should be able to slip through the ship undetected.”

  “And where are you going?” Farid asked, quickly hiding his stolen credits in hidden panels in the walls.

  “Someone needs to find this weapon.” Conwynne pulled on his red lacquered helmet then slipped away into the shadows.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Lucia muttered.

  “Be careful out there, okay? Sneaking through this ship isn’t like prowling around the baron’s place, girl.”

  “I’m not a child, Avar. Don’t you dare speak to me like one.”

  “I’m just saying, don’t get killed, all right?”

  Lucia was about to continue telling the frustrating pirate off when he stepped forward, cupped the back of her head with his hand and kissed her. His lips were soft on hers. His tongue darted swiftly into her mouth, tapping against hers like a promise of things to come. The moment was over in seconds. The moment seemed to last forever.

  All of Lucia Brightwolf’s fears vanished in that blissful second. She wanted more of that. So much more.

  “What was that for?” she asked.

  “It’s going to be dangerous out there. I couldn’t let myself die without doing that at least once.” He smiled at her—a real smile, not his usual cocky smirk. It made him beautiful.

  “Do we have time for one more of those?” Lucia whispered, easing her fingers into Farid’s belt and pulling him close.

  They did.

  * * *

  Hiding on the Letherine proved surprisingly easy. With their stolen helmets on, Lucia and Farid looked like every other red jacket searching the captured ship for clues. When the platoon swarmed the ship, they hid in the shadows and then emerged in the midst of the occupiers. They moved amongst the other soldiers, opening boxes, dumping goods on the floor. Farid seemed to take special delight in ransacking his own ship before the red bellies could, smashing boxes he knew contained junk, dumping ridiculous amounts of dried beans and seeds across the deck.

  �
�Calm down, Farid,” Lucia whispered. “You’re attracting attention.”

  “I’m just doing what they’re doing,” he whispered back. The helmet hid his eyes behind an opaque screen. Only his smirking mouth gave him away.

  “No, you’re enjoying it. These other guys all seem bored.” It was true, none of the red bellies had their hearts in tossing the ship. Not until one of them pried away a hidden panel and found a stash of weapons. “Less enthusiasm,” Lucia cautioned.

  The weapons cache—bolters, axes, and two net guns—changed the men. One red belly—a sergeant by his markings—bellowed at the rest of them, “Okay, the job just got harder people. Every inch of this place. Walls, floors, ceiling. Tear it up. This is no longer considered a simple smuggling vehicle but rather a potential terrorist threat.” He pronounced the words like he wished he could stab them with his tongue. “Whoever finds weapons, currency, plans or contraband gets one week paid leave in Sala City, or two weeks paid leave with Jenkins’ mom.” The soldiers laughed at the joke, except for one unfortunate soul who whined, “Leave off her, sir.”

  The men flew into a frenzy, tearing apart seat cushions and picture frames and smashing every container, looking for Farid’s secrets.

  “Stay close,” Farid whispered, as he inched towards a panel in the wall. It looked like an ordinary temperature regulator, but as he removed the casing Lucia saw it was a fake. Underneath was a crazy tangle of wires and switches. And a blinking readout. As the pirate lifted the covering all the way off, a loud clunk rang out, and the readout began counting down.

  “Sergeant,” Farid yelled to the loudmouthed commander, “I found something.”

  The red belly shoved his way through the mess of men and smashed crates to see what Farid had found. He had the look of a man who wished he was asleep, with the thick forehead, wrinkled skin, and floppy ears of a dog shifter. When he came within sight of Farid, his eyes flew open, pushing folds of skin around face. “Bomb!” he barked. “There’s a bomb! Everyone off! Millicent, get the disposal team up here.”

  The dog sergeant turned to praise Farid’s find, but by then the sand pirate and Lucia had slipped away, onto the Warmaw.

  Alpha-Spawn

  The inside of the battleship was like nothing Lucia had ever seen. The floors were made of a polished stone, so shiny she could see herself in them. Stark white slabs formed the walls and ceiling, reflecting light and dazzling her with the brightness.

  They were in an enormous vaulted chamber lit by old world electric lights blazing in the ceiling. The Letherine lay roped and moored in one corner of the area looking like a captured beast ready for slaughter. There was clearly room and rope for a dozen more ships her size.

  “I’ve never seen anything so big.”

  “Close your mouth, kid, you’ll attract attention.”

  She wanted to yell at Farid, but he was right. She was gawping at the surroundings like a newborn. But being right just made him more annoying.

  “How does it fly?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” Farid said. “This is ten times larger than any ship I’ve heard of. It shouldn’t be able to fly.”

  Soldiers streamed out of the Letherine in a mad dash. Once everyone was out, the dog sergeant yelled at a nearby crew standing by a series of cranks and pulleys. It reminded Lucia of the system she’d just trained with on Farid’s ship. The winch operators grasped the handles and spun the cranks, opening the trapdoor under the Letherine.

  If they couldn’t defuse the bomb, they’d drop the ship down into the wasteland. The Letherine would never survive a fall like that. The Warmaw was rising, Lucia noticed. They were a half mile in the air now. Nothing could survive a fall so great.

  Farid couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d poured his life into that ship. It was like a sister to him, a mother. Lucia wanted to take his hand, to soothe him, but she guessed red bellies didn’t do that very often. At least not in public. As it was, she was just glad that women served the Suzerainty. There was no way she could’ve passed as a man in the tight-fitting armor.

  “We need to hurry.” She bumped the pirate with her shoulder, jostling him onto his heels.

  “What if she needs me?”

  “Our friends need you.”

  “I could run inside, activate the emergency pulse drive once I was near the ground. She has other tricks, too.”

  “You want to go down with the ship?”

  “It’s a captain’s duty. And she’s not just any old ship,” he said through gritted teeth.

  He was frozen, transfixed. Lucia had to do something. She closed her eyes and reached out to him with her senses, hoping to avoid touching the mind of the witch again. Whether he knew it or not, he was her pack. He belonged to her. She had power over him.

  Lucia felt for the bond between them. It thrummed in her mind like a fiddle string. She plucked it, sending a low bass hum to Farid, then she tugged on it.

  The captain staggered. “What did you just do to me?”

  “I reminded you who the alpha here is,” she growled. “Now stop wasting time and help me save our friends.”

  He nodded, but his eyes turned back to his beloved ship.

  “Think of Quinn. Quinn needs you.”

  That was all it took. At the mention of his first mate and best friend, Farid refocused. He’d be okay.

  “Any idea where the prisoners are kept?” she asked.

  “If this is anything like other Suzerainty ships, there’ll be a log room near here. They love their paperwork, these red bellies. Everything gets filed in triplicate, with redundancies everywhere. The log room will have maps, floor plans, directories. We’ll find it there.”

  Lucia had a better idea. She walked over to the dog sergeant, who stood fretting at the edge of the open trapdoor.

  “Where’s that bomb squad?” he whined.

  “Sergeant,” Lucia did her best impression of a tired soldier, “I’ve been ordered to report to the detention level.”

  “Very well,” the dog man said, not even looking at her.

  “Sir, I,” Lucia played at stammering, remembering the way new guards at her uncle’s mine asked questions, “I don’t know where that is.”

  “New recruit, eh? We’ve seen a lot of you types recently. Can’t believe how much Taybor is skimping on training. Still, we’ve got a war to win, eh? Eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lucia agreed.

  “Why, when I was a new recruit—” He turned to bellow at a nearby soldier, “Jenkins, go find Millicent. She’s taking too long with the disposal unit. I’ll not have a hole blown in the deck on my watch!” The sergeant coughed, “Bad timing, private. Bad timing. Come see me at end of shift and I’ll chew your ear off with my probie stories.”

  “Sir,” Lucia agreed. Then added, “The detention area?”

  “Right, right. Level three. Towards the center. Just listen for the screaming,” he sneered. “Maybe I’ll come join you after all this. Calms my nerves to hear those terrorists and traitors crying for their mommies.”

  Lucia performed a tight half bow like she’d seen other red bellies do, then marched off toward the center of the floating pyramid. Farid followed at a nonchalant distance.

  * * *

  Once past the hangar area, the hallways narrowed considerably. The Warmaw was a labyrinth wrought of stone and steel. Lucia felt confused wandering the halls. They seemed to loop and spin upon themselves, arcing upwards or spiraling into cul-de-sac rooms. The layout was maddening.

  “How can anyone find anything in here?” Lucia asked.

  “They say the Suzerain is paranoid. That he sees enemies everywhere,” Farid said. “Maybe this fortress is designed like his mind? Attacking this place would be suicide. Do you see those slits in the ceiling? Murder holes. Three men with bolters or just long knives could hold off an army in here, shooting from hidden recesses in the ceiling.”

  A shiver ran up Lucia’s spine. “Are they listening?” She nodded upwards.

  “I doubt they
’re manned right now. Probably just when an attack happens.”

  “Who could ever be crazy enough to attack this place? How?”

  Farid shrugged. “Crazy comes from everywhere. Sometimes it comes from hope.” He grinned at her. “We’re attacking, aren’t we?”

  Wandering around, hoping to take the right branch of the maze without suddenly wandering into a room full of alpha-strength officers, was no kind of plan.

  “Wait,” Lucia said, “I’m going to try something.” She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing again, feeling out with her alpha gifts for her pack. Foxtail and Triptongue and Quinn were hers. She should be able to find them. But Farid’s presence loomed in her mind. He was so close, so warm. And that kiss . . .

  When they got out of here, out of danger, she’d get more of that from him. Much, much more.

  Lucia shook her head. If she thought about the way his lips tasted, the way his strong hands felt on her neck, the way his tight back felt under her touch, the scent of arousal that poured from his skin—she’d never be able to focus.

  She wondered, not for the first time, what making love to him would be like. Would he be gentle? Bold? Impatient? The women at her uncle’s compound swore that you never really knew a man until you saw his bedroom face. The idea had always saddened Lucia before, as if it was dishonest. But now, so close to Farid, his scent lingering in her nose, the idea of seeing his bedroom face, seeing him stripped of all cunning was thrilling.

  “Focus,” she said. “Focus. Farid, stand behind me, please. I’m having trouble sensing past you.” The way he smirked at her told her everything she need to know.

  He wanted to see her bedroom face as well.

  Breathe in.

  Breath out.

  She imagined herself a wolf, black as the night, padding from shadow to shadow. She ran the length of the battleship in great bounds, moving through the harsh stone walls like a whisper. Rooms full of red jacketed soldiers flitted by like rumors. Great storehouses of grain and water filled ten stories of deck. Weird thrumming machines pulsed with a sickly green energy, holding the ship aloft.