He coughed and gasped until I realized I needed to loosen my grip for him to answer. “If not me, someone will kill her. It has to be done.”
I willed my claws to grow until they dug into his shoulder. “Why on Helheimr would you say that?” He only growled in response. I extended my claws more, piercing his skin. “Tell me!” I yelled, pouring power into the command.
He gasped, a ragged, pain-filled sound. “If she unites the wolves, they’ll be stronger than any other group of shifters. One group can’t be allowed to have that much power.”
“She has no intention of joining a pack for that very reason,” I said.
“Are you sure about that?”
I thought about her jacket, the AVV, an umbrella pack that encompassed half the varúlfur on the planet. “Yes,” I lied. “Now who sent you?”
He didn’t answer so I squeezed, hard. The look on his face remained obstinate. I lifted him off his feet, no easy task considering we were close to the same height and he was heavy as a mad scientist in an iron flying suit. He kicked and struggled for several seconds, hands pulling uselessly at my arm.
I lowered him enough that his feet touched the ground. Easy as flexing a muscle, I let the wolfy glow fill my eyes and made my fangs extend. “Last time I’m asking so nice. Who sent you?”
“It doesn’t matter who sent me. There will be others, and not just from the berserkrs. The Council is concerned, that alone is enough to motivate the races to take action. We won’t allow her to empower any one race more than the others, and we won’t allow your race to out themselves to the world,” he said.
He couldn’t mean the Elder Council of Hemlock Hollow, or even the Varúlfur Council. He wouldn’t be privy to what they discussed. “You mean the Shifter Council?” My surprise came through in my voice. So much for control.
“Oh, yeah, well I guess you weren’t invited to that meeting.”
I squeezed his neck again, my claws biting into the back of it. “The Shifter Council had a meeting about our uppskera without inviting the varúlfur?”
A smug smile curved up his oxygen deprived lips. He tapped on my hand. I let go enough that he could answer. “I didn’t say the varúlfur weren’t invited. I said you weren’t invited, verndari.” He spat the last word out like it was a foul thing.
I shoved him away from me so I wouldn’t punch him in the face. Not one to disappoint, he gave me another opportunity when he launched himself at me. I side-stepped and drove the instep of my foot into his solar plexus. Hands grasping his midsection, he doubled over. I threw a right hook into his jaw, rotating my hips to put a good amount of power behind it. He went down hard.
“Stay down,” I warned.
The obstinate villain grabbed my leg and yanked. Tucking my chin against my chest, I managed to keep my head from slamming into the asphalt, but not the rest of me. Faster than I thought the brute capable, he straddled me before I could regain my senses. He grabbed me by the throat and started to squeeze. And damn but he was strong.
“Never! I will kill her, even if I have to go through you,” he said.
My vision narrowed, and not because I couldn’t breathe. Fury burned through all reason and mercy. I shifted to hybrid form. Flexing my neck muscles alone moved his hand enough away from my windpipe that I was able to scream like a Viking plunging into battle. Without hesitation, or even a thought beyond protecting Ayra, I thrust my clawed hands into his chest. They hit his breastbone and stopped. Raking down, I freed them of his flesh.
Though fear shone in his eyes, he reared his fist back. Before it could fall, I thrust forward and closed his throat in my teeth. One good shake tore open his carotid. Blood spewed down my throat in a hot, horrible torrent. My wolf side reveled in it at the same time my human side gagged and pulled away. I threw him off me and shifted to full wolf form. Unable to move, I stood and watched while his life’s blood brightened the concrete and he twitched his last.
I forced the focus that didn’t want to come. The berserkr likely wasn’t the only one with the notion that the uppskera had to be taken out. Not if the Shifter Council had met to discuss her. And she was out there alone. Desperation erased the scribblings of instinct from my mind, giving me a clean slate that allowed me to think.
Blood squished like thick paint beneath my paws as I rose. An iron-like scent drifted up from it, filling my nostrils and choking my throat. This was not like the comic books at all. I didn’t feel heroic or dashing, only horrible. I ran off into the trees as far and fast as my paws would carry me in a matter of seconds. Then, I circled back to the edge of the tree line and leaped for the bed of the truck. The entire vehicle shook with my impact. I shifted back to a man, grabbed my shirt from where it lay on the wheel well, and climbed into the cab.
One glance around and a good hard listen revealed no witnesses and no one coming for as far as I could hear—which was at least a mile. My steady hands shifted the truck into drive a second before my bare foot pressed on the gas pedal. I’d left nothing behind to tie me to the killing, save for my blood. For a human, that would be damning evidence, but not for us. Varúlfur blood degraded due to the shifting nature of our atoms. In tests it would show up as tainted wolf’s blood. It was part of the reason our kind got away with so much killing.
The stench of his blood—rank with a bear’s musk—clung to me. I pressed the button to roll down my window. Fresh, warm air blew in around me. My gaze dropped to my hand on the wheel. Already his blood was drying beneath my nails, coagulating on my face, throat, and chest. I’d have to pull over and wash soon. But first I had to put some distance between me and the body.
Though he had attacked me, had brought this on himself, the gravity of what I’d done struck me like a super villain’s right hook. The air felt too cold. The cab of the truck seemed to close in on me. The classic rock blaring on the radio that I’d been enjoying so much an hour ago hurt my ears. Assassin or not, he’d still been a man. I had killed a man. The worst part was, I wasn’t sorry. And to protect her, I’d do it again if I had to.
Chapter Ten
“The murderous rage rides on the tail of insanity, condemning any who lose their battle with control.”
~Uppskera Journals
Ayra
The rock music of the roadside bar drew me into the packed parking lot. I drove around to the front where a row of Harleys stood in a neat line. A few Sportsters and Road Kings stood among mostly classic Fat Boys, Soft Tails, and genuine Choppers with Ape Hanger handlebars on some and racing bars on others. Not a windshield among them. No yuppies here. It could be a rough crowd. Fine by me. Rough crowds were kind of my thing.
I squeezed my BWM into a spot on the end of the row next to a beautiful 1979 Shovelhead with a ghost flame paint job. Neon blue light from the bar’s sign overhead bathed the sidewalk before me. I rolled up my jacket and tucked it under the straps of my cargo holder behind my rear seat. No sense in riling up the locals with my patch and rockers. It didn’t mean what they thought it meant, but the rough sort of bikers rarely listened long enough to hear that part. In my short jean shorts and blue half-shirt sporting the name of a classic metal band, I’d fit in well enough.
My phone vibrated as I rose from my bike. It was only Elí texting yet another picture of flowers for the wedding he needed my opinion on. The man was obsessed with the arrangements. As if making the ceremony beautiful could hide the ugly truth that he was marrying a monster. The business-like manner of the text stung, a lot. I shoved my phone back in my pocket. I couldn’t deal with that situation right now.
Pulsing drums and screaming guitars welcomed me long before I opened the door to the packed establishment. Most people gathered around the bar and tables that framed the dance floor. A dozen or so dancers meant I’d have plenty of room, but might draw a bit of attention if I wasn’t careful. Oh well, I wasn’t against busting a few heads if I had to. A girl should be able to go where she wanted to go, after all. The scents of sweaty bodies and sweet liquor mingled in a way t
hat wasn’t all bad. The wonderful press of energy made it oh so worth it. I needed this bit of normalcy bad enough to risk just about any crowd.
The air literally felt thick with it, almost palpable. Sexual energy, the energy raised by dancing, even a bit of hostile energy from too much testosterone, all of it felt amazing, like a well-mixed cocktail. It tingled across my skin, begging to be drank in. So I did. They wouldn’t feel it. I only soaked in what they gave off. This wasn’t my reaper power, just a normal werewolf ability to feel the energy in a room. Smiling, I let the door swing shut behind me. A few gazes turned my way, mostly men leering at my legs. Before any of them could get any ideas, I strode straight to the dance floor.
The hard rock pulsing from the speakers on the stage pulled at my soul with each drumbeat. My body responded, moving to the music of its own accord. Hair swinging with each step, I gave over to the sensations of music and energy filling me. The other dancers ignored me for the most part, at first. One song turned into another. Thankfully they kept the beat strong. With all the energy I soaked in from the other dancers around me, I needed the fast pace. By the next song I was surrounded by others, mostly men gyrating as close to me as I’d let them, but a few women too.
I allowed those giving off the most energy to surround me. Caught up by my power, they danced with abandon, giving off more and more energy. Soon, I became light-headed and giddy. The press of all the bodies became very…stimulating. Though I had zero interest in the young, shirtless biker guy trying to grind against my hip, I wished he was even less clothed. I wished he was Vidar. Closing my eyes, I imagined for a moment that he was. But when I opened them to see a stranger hovering over me it turned my stomach. While he was good looking, he was not Vidar.
Before it could get awkward, a tiny Korean woman exuding an impressive amount of energy sidled between us. Shirtless biker-guy grinned like an idiot as he ground up against her for a minute until she shot him a warning look that made him step back. Hell, it would have made me step back. Her little gold dress blended with her chestnut skin tone in a way that made it hard to tell how much it covered in the dimly lit bar. Braids of the most amazing ginger and black hair that looked so natural I couldn’t tell which was her true hair color bounced and swayed with every move she made. Gold eyes that had to be contacts regarded me with a mixture of mischief and interest. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a gold necklace set with a large onyx. She matched my moves with impressive skill, shadowing just close enough with every part of her body to barely avoid touching.
Whoops and hollers of encouragement sounded from the surrounding men. The song changed and a screaming guitar drowned them out. Gold eyes kept up with me easily despite the drastic uptick in the beat. As we danced, the stress of the last month melted away until all I thought about was the music and the intriguing woman beside me. While she didn’t give off any more energy than the guy we’d shrugged off, there was something about her energy that drew me. The fearless way she stared into my eyes impressed me. No challenge sat in that gaze. It seemed more calculating than anything else.
The music slowed. She wove her body around mine, until barely a breath separated us. Her arms moved about me in sinuous waves. Braids brushed against my shoulders, my breasts, as we swayed ever closer. Mild though her energy was, it still managed to be intoxicating. Her lips came close to my neck, her breath trailing across my skin. Part of me didn’t mind. Maybe it was that she felt safe where the guy hadn’t. I couldn’t be sure. A level of aggression lay behind her full-lipped smile that was often rare in women. And those eyes… I couldn’t find the edge of a contact lens no matter how hard I looked. And she let me look very, very close. Normally my werewolf sight would pick that kind of thing right up.
My stomach cramped up, not in the way that meant I was going to vomit, no, far worse than that. Tainted varúlfur energy approached from outside. A condemned, and one that was deep into the dark side already. All the stress I had shed rushed back in with a vengeance. My body froze as I saw inside the condemned’s mind.
Blood everywhere. An axe in his hand still had chunks of flesh and soft bits sliding off it. The messy remains of a woman and a child lay at his feet, his child. Euphoria filled him, along with the desire to do it again. Already a plan was forming in his mind.
The urge—no, the need—to kill him surged up and washed away the stress, the doubt. This monster had to die, right now. I forced a smile for Gold Eyes.
“Sorry, gotta go. Thanks for the save,” I said.
She nodded as if she’d heard me despite the blaring music. I turned and shoved my way through the full dance floor to the tune of numerous protests from guys who didn’t want the show to end. One grabbed hold of my arm with a grip strong enough that it would have stopped a normal woman. I twisted up and toward his thumb, easily breaking his hold without even using my werewolf strength. Quicker than I expected, he grabbed hold of both my wrists.
“Why don’t you stay? My friends and I were enjoying the show,” he said.
I whipped my hands around and grabbed his wrists, squeezing hard enough to make his bones grind together. Power burned behind my eyes, which I knew would make them shine like an animal’s in the dark. He gasped as he stared wide-eyed at me.
“I have business outside,” I said.
The aggression left his eyes and fear bubbled up in its place. His top lip curled into a sad mockery of a snarl. “Fine bit— Ouch!” A touch of my power pushing into him cut off his words.
He nodded. This time he didn’t reach for me when I left.
The door opened onto a packed parking lot aglow with neon blue light. I had to step out from under that light before I could let my werewolf night-sight kick in. Heat signatures popped up everywhere: a man propositioning a woman near the road, another man walking toward the bar, a couple in a car having sex. None of them were the person I felt. Their energy signatures lacked that extra something werewolves possessed. I focused on my sense of smell since it was the longest range of my senses. The overwhelming odors of alcohol, cigarettes, and bodily fluids overrode everything else. Finally, I had no choice but to tap into my hated sixth sense.
At the slightest urging, it uncurled within me with an eagerness that took my breath away. It was like it had been waiting. With it came that intense drive to chase and kill. Strength flooded my muscles and my senses sharpened beyond that of even a werewolf. It hit me hard and fast, like a drug that went straight into the bloodstream. I stood on the knife’s edge of control, instinct just a slip in the wrong direction. The problem was, I wanted to leap in that direction. I craved that out of control feeling much like I craved storms and the energy they brought. Fear of that craving helped drive it back enough to allow me to think.
Like a strong magnet, my power snapped to the newly bitten. No, not newly bitten. He had seen at least six full moons. I felt it in his memories. And he had reveled in the kill each time. Unfortunately, I felt that too. He stood down wind of me, at the edge of the forest that stretched beyond the parking lot. I took one step in his direction and he bolted. Instinct propelled me after him.
Once I reached the fragrant shelter of the fir trees, I slowed a little to pick up his scent trail. It led me deeper into the trees, thankfully away from prying eyes and under cover from satellites. My prey couldn’t have been more accommodating if he had meant to be. Suspicion bloomed inside me. I slowed, paying close attention to my surroundings. The scent trail led down into a hollow between two hillsides covered in trees. A perfect ambush spot.
I strode straight into the hollow. Fury clouded my mind. Like I suspected, his trail disappeared in the middle of the hollow. The clever bastard was already taking well to being a werewolf. Not good. Rays of moonlight shifted across the ground before me as the boughs they filtered through moved. It could just be the wind, but it wasn’t. The pressure of his power hovering over me made that abundantly clear.
At the last moment, I stepped back. Air whooshed from him in a loud grunt as he hit the gro
und before me on all fours and fell to his stomach. In only a pair of pants, he was at least partially prepared to shift. Grinning, he rose slowly, like he didn’t have a care in the world. That expression worked like gasoline on the fire of my anger. It took a while for him to unfold his tall body. His stiff movements revealed the fall hadn’t been soft. A farmer’s tan darkened his arms halfway down.
White supremacy tattoos covered Farm Boy’s bare chest. Calder knew how much I hated prejudiced people hiding behind Odinism. Our religion had nothing to do with prejudice but some people liked to think it did. By turning this jerk he was just trying to piss me off.
“So this is the famous uppskera? Calder said you weren’t no more than a little thing, but damn! This’ll be too easy,” he said, butchering the Icelandic word for reaper.
The images of the woman and child he had killed flashed behind my eyes when I blinked. It gave me all the motivation I needed. Hands opening, I extended my claws. “I believe the word my brother would have used would have been insignificant,” I said.
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s the word he used.”
His eyes widened as they took in my claws. “I didn’t know we could do that.” A pale pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. Excitement of the sickest kind filled his eyes. “That could come in handy.”
“Only the most powerful of us can. And you are definitely not that,” I said as my lip curled up in disgust.
“You don’t know a thing about me, little lady.”
“You’re a monster who is going to die for what you did and what you would continue to do. That’s all I need to know.”
The confusion clouding his eyes made me sad. I wanted him to know why he was dying. I wanted him to regret killing that woman and her child. But he wouldn’t. I could feel that as surely as I could feel the stain of what he’d done on his soul. A snappy comment started to emerge from his smug smile, but I’d heard enough. I couldn’t hold the fury back any longer.
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