Blood of the Wolf

by Holly Evans

  There were only four files, thankfully. It was still too many lives taken in such a horrific way, but it could have been so much worse. I opened up the first one Alasdair handed me and wished I hadn’t just eaten. The female wolf had been halfway through her shift when she was sacrificed. What was left of her face was frozen in an expression of agony and terror. The other victim was just as brutally murdered. There was so much blood and pain.

  Looking down through their files, they both seemed like perfectly normal wolves. They didn’t have criminal records, and both worked mundane office jobs. One was from Cork and the other Killarney, so they didn’t even have geography to link them. I frowned as I re-read something on Shona’s file.

  “Both Shona and Ben were outsiders to their pack. They’re only second generation; their parents came from outside bloodlines,” I said.

  Alasdair frowned and flipped back through his files.

  “Andrew and Jack were, too. You might have found something here, Niko. We’ll speak to Saoirse and see if we can get records on where their parents came from. That isn’t in these files.”

  “No, I have nothing on Shona and Ben’s parents either.”

  Alasdair smiled at me and mussed my hair. “You’ll make a Guardian yet.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was an accomplished enforcer before this.”

  He leaned in close.

  “And you’ll make a better Guardian.”

  I couldn’t decipher if that was a threat or a promise.

  Twenty-Two

  Saoirse didn’t have much information on the victims’ families. She said that was odd, given the priestesses usually kept a record of all bloodlines of the shifters and lycans within their territory. That meant that Alasdair and I spent the evening looking back over all the photos from the ritual sites while poring through witch books on ritual magic. To say it was tedious was an understatement.

  Alasdair had insisted on remaining close to me and kept brushing his fingers over mine and leaning his thigh against mine. It was a distraction, but I restrained myself from growling at him. He hadn’t made any mention of friends or pack. Shifters weren’t meant to be alone. I accepted that, given he was many centuries old, he could be in need of the tactility my presence offered him. Much to my chagrin, it was doing me a lot of good too. I hadn’t realised how tense and aggressive I was on a day-to-day basis. Alasdair’s presence and touches calmed me and allowed me to focus on the work at hand, at least for short periods. I’d never been a fan of researching magic.

  I leaned back on the sofa and stretched, yawning and hoping to escape to bed. Alasdair placed his hand in the centre of my chest and pushed me back against the sofa. He leaned in so close our lips were almost touching. I swallowed hard and focused on his eyes while remaining relaxed. My instincts told me to attack him and drive him off.

  “Why did the fae attack you, Niko?” he growled.

  His silver eyes were slowly becoming amber as his wolf pressed forward.

  I acted without thinking. I had his bottom lip between my teeth before I’d even realised I’d moved. The taste of his blood coated my tongue before I let go and glared at him. My wolf was itching to be free and clamp its teeth down on Alasdair’s throat to remind him that I wasn’t some weak little omega he could push around. He licked his bottom lip and smiled. It was a dark razor-edges expression that only added more amber to his eyes.

  “I don’t know, Alasdair, but I swear to the gods above and below, if you don’t release me I will make you,” I snarled.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t think I’ll allow you to draw my blood so easily next time,” before he released me.

  I bared my teeth at him and went for a shower. We had to work together. I couldn’t afford to hang around and risk the situation escalating.

  I was almost done with the shower when the bathroom door opened.

  “I swear if you try and join me in this shower, I’ll-”

  “I got you new jeans as yours were ruined. You’re welcome.”

  The door closed. I dragged my fingers through my hair and calmed myself under the hot water. He got under my skin like no one else had before him. I leaned around the edge of the shower cubicle to double-check that he wasn’t waiting for me to give another strip-show before I got out. A paper bag full of new jeans and shirts awaited me, and guilt bubbled up within me. It wouldn’t have killed him to mention he got them earlier. He didn’t have to wait to come into the fucking bathroom to give them to me. They were all good quality, far better than I usually bought, and in my size. I wrinkled my nose as I stepped out into the main area and tried to decide how to apologise, or if I should at all. Damn, he was infuriating.

  “Saoirse has booked us seats on a flight to Paris. We leave in ten minutes.”

  I looked at Alasdair, who was standing in his full suit with a fancy leather backpack by his feet.

  “Why are we going to Paris?”

  He sighed.

  “Another ritual has been reported there.”

  “Ah, fuck.”

  I jogged to the bedroom and threw my essentials into my backpack, including the rest of the new clothes Alasdair had bought me. He handed me my leather jacket when I emerged back in the living room.

  “Thanks for the clothes, how much do I owe you?” I asked as I pulled my boots on.

  “We’re partners, we look out for each other,” he said as he handed me a set of keys.

  “So you can come and go as you please,” he added.

  I pocketed the keys and glanced at the bedroom. Having the keys only made the bed situation more permanent.

  “Lead the way,” I said with a smile.

  We needed to catch the bastard that was killing these poor wolves. Too many had died as it was. I wondered why they’d moved to Paris, though; that was a big change of scene from Ireland. The supernal community was certainly different there, and the magic of each place was different. Maybe the Irish magic wasn’t lining up with his ritual, or at least that was their thinking.

  “What do we know about this latest victim?” I asked.

  “Young female, barely nineteen. She was brought in as a potential mate for the beta’s son. They wanted to keep the bloodlines diverse. No one has any information on her parents or the pack she came from. She’s the same as the rest: no criminal record, mundane college degree.”

  I slumped back in the seat of Alasdair’s car and crossed my arms. We were missing something, and it was driving me mad. We were supposed to protect people, to save them from this. I felt like we were failing.

  Twenty-Three

  To my relief, Saoirse had booked us business class seats. I hated being cooped up in economy class. I wasn’t made to be close to strangers for that long. Alasdair had been oddly quiet and reserved for the flight over to Paris. I wasn’t sure whether to be worried or relieved that I had a respite from his pushing.

  “Should I see if we can get you a Vespa?” he asked me as we walked to the car rental place.

  I gave him my darkest glare. I wouldn’t be caught dead on Vespa. He laughed at me and strode over to the car rental desk, where he picked up the keys for another muscle car. I almost asked him if he was compensating for something, but I wasn’t in the mood for him getting into my personal space as he undoubtedly would. That, and I’d seen him in just his boxers, so I knew the answer.

  “Why are you blushing?” Alasdair asked me with a frown as I dropped my backpack in the boot of the blood-red car.

  I’d been running the images of him in just his boxers through my head and hoping he wouldn’t somehow catch me doing so. I smiled and shrugged.

  “Are we going straight to the… site?” I didn’t think saying ritual out loud would be the best idea.

  “No, we’re meeting some local allies first.”

  He kept searching my face for an answer to his earlier question. I looked away and waited for him to start driving. If he knew I’d been picturing him almost naked, I’d never get any peace.

 
; I hadn’t been to Paris in a few years. It wasn’t one of my favourite cities, but it had a distinct charm. My mind kept flitting back to the rituals and what it was that I’d missed. The sigils were unfamiliar, and my coven had never done anything quite so horrifying. For all of their faults, they had remained strictly within the ethical constraints set forward by the priestesses. Finally giving up on that line of thought, I tried to start a conversation while we sat in traffic.

  “What do you do for fun? Don’t tell me you don’t know what fun is.”

  Alasdair smiled at me and flexed his fingers around the steering wheel.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t have time for fun, either. The goddess wouldn’t work you to the bone, it’s inefficient.”

  He laughed at that.

  “I cook and sometimes I draw.”

  My ears pricked at that. I hadn’t met an artist before, but the talent had always appealed to me.

  “What do you draw?”

  He shrugged. “Landscapes mostly, a little architecture when the mood strikes. Don’t stare at Simone, she’ll hurt you if you do.”

  “Why would I stare?”

  “She’s made, but she wasn’t as… fortunate as you.”

  I wrinkled my nose. The results of the rituals could be horrifying, the fact she had survived this long was a testament to her strength.

  “I’ll be polite.”

  We’d been given an apartment in the trendy fourth arrondissement. The apartment was on the top floor of an elegant white building with climbing vines growing up the outer wall. Slender trees covered in vibrant green leaves lined the pavement. I was dismayed to find that once again there was only one bed. It seemed the goddess was determined when it came to the sleeping arrangements. I didn’t have a chance to bitch about it as Alasdair turned around and led the way back out onto the street within ten seconds of dropping our bags off.

  I followed him down the street towards a small cafe with teal window frames. He walked between the small round tables and wove between the happy patrons to walk around the counter into the back room. The atmosphere changed the moment we stepped through the door. The happy space full of laughter was replaced with a sombre, brightly lit space with desks lining the closest wall and a large table in the middle covered in paper.

  The smell of hot metal and petrichor struck me within two steps of entering the room, I looked around for the hellhound that it belonged to. I’d never met a hound, but I’d been told about them. They were very rare, but they’d been coming through and making Earth their home since the big ritual in Prague some two years before my birth. They couldn’t remain here alone, they had to bond with someone, but some witches thoroughly enjoyed the benefits that came with having a hellhound. They were fierce protectors, and that hellfire was useful in all sorts of spells and rituals.

  “Grayson, this is Niko, my partner. Niko, Grayson,” Alasdair said stiffly as he gestured between me and the hound.

  I’d pictured someone broad and imposing, but this Grayson had an athletic build with clear power and the grace that came with many years of fighting experience. I could feel some edge of a predator within him, but it was buried deep. His eyes were a beautiful deep blue and a smile came quickly to his face. I held out my hand and smiled politely as he approached.

  “You must be quite something to be Alasdair’s partner,” he said, his smile spreading as he shook my hand.

  I glanced down and away and tried not to squirm at the comment.

  “I’m afraid you’re the first hellhound I’ve met, so I’m not entirely sure of the etiquette here.”

  He laughed and put his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans.

  “I’m only half hellhound, my mother’s a hunter.”

  I instinctively froze, and my hand went to where my knife should have been. Grayson’s smile faltered before he held up his hands.

  “Oh, no, she’s one of the original hunters. She sits on the Council as a representative for the Order now, much to their chagrin. Mom’s never really mastered diplomacy.”

  I relaxed some. Enforcers had been called hunters before I was born, back before the big ritual that changed everything. Since then, the Order was formed and the hunters became enforcers. They worked within an agreed framework and set of laws, rather than doing what they felt was needed to keep the supernal community in line and hidden. The few who kept the name hunter were the thing of nightmares to all made and a lot of lycans and shifters. They felt that all made were abominations and they needed to be wiped from the Earth.

  “Alasdair, you look well,” a woman with a soft Parisian accent said.

  I looked away from Grayson to see what must have been Simone. Her hair was a rich deep green and white. It looked almost like strands of ivy. A small string of tiny forget-me-not flowers bloomed just above her left ear, and her hands and arms had the distinct patterning of bark. Her eyes were a deep purple, which matched her ankle-length floaty skirt. The bangles on her wrists and long earrings gave her a very fashionable appearance, allowing her to shrug off the oddities as fashion choices. She must have been a nymph made. Born nymphs were attached to trees, although a particularly ambitious hedgewitch had tried to attach them to houseplants so they could be easily moved and sold. It seemed that poor Simone had been made with a tree, or something approximating that anyway.

  She smiled broadly at me, and I paused as she hugged me and kissed each cheek in turn.

  “It’s good to meet you, Niko, I’m sorry it had to be under such circumstances.”

  She smelled of cherry blossom and warm honey, it was a pleasant happy scent.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure,” I said.

  “I see opposites really do attract, Alasdair,” Grayson said with a smile.

  Alasdair rolled his eyes.

  “Are we going to visit this ritual site before it gets completely stale?” he asked.

  Grayson nudged me as he walked to the door. “You must be one Hell of a lay to make Alasdair relax.”

  I’m pretty sure my jaw hit the floor.

  Twenty-Four

  The most recent ritual had been completed in a warehouse on the edge of the city. Simone had spoken to the local enforcers to make sure that no non-supernals got news of what had happened. We had twenty minutes to look around and take any relevant photos before the clean-up crew arrived.

  My shadow magic started writhing and trying to break out of its bonds a few blocks away from the warehouse. Once I stepped foot in the great building, it was difficult to focus on the sight before me. Unlike the last site I'd visited, the light pouring in from the glass ceiling two stories above us wasn't restricted or overwhelmed. It highlighted every last detail of the poor woman's death. The sigils were still fresh enough that they glistened in the sunlight, and the stench was slipping around the paste that Alasdair had placed beneath my nose.

  Simone walked up to the ritual without a care in the world. Grayson hung back with me. We walked around the edge of the space, looking for anything the murderer might have missed or forgotten. The floors had been swept clean around the body and sigils, and there wasn't so much as a stray hair. The shadow may not have been present to the naked eye like it had been in the other ritual, but every moment I spent in that warehouse was more difficult than the last. The shadow had almost freed itself from my second set of bindings when Alasdair strolled up to me.

  "Simone has taken lots of photos, and the sigils are cleaner here, but we can't find anything that might tell us who the bastard was."

  Simone was tucking her camera into her satchel when the clean-up crew arrived. There were four of them, each with a grim expression and a completely black outfit.

  I frowned. "Isn't the victim going to get a burial from her pack?"

  Grayson looked at me with creases between his brow. "I thought you were raised in a coven?"

  I growled and waited for him to continue.

  "Victims of a ritual must be incinerated to make sure that no residual magic is left behin
d. We learnt that mistake after the big ritual that started the made movement," he said bitterly.

  I wasn't sure if he was bitter about made beings, or the big ritual. I let it slide either way. The clean-up crew didn't say a word as they walked around us and began their work. The ride back to the cafe was tense and silent. Another person dead, and we had no fresh leads, no idea who the bastard was. Simone handed her camera to Grayson with a smile.

  “Take Niko inside and get the photos printed out, I’ll take Alasdair to see Selene. Maybe she’ll have something on the latest victim.”

  “Selene’s the local lunar priestess,” Grayson explained.

  I followed him back through the cafe into the back area.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sounds great, any chance I can get something to eat? Do I need to go back out into the cafe?” I asked.

  Grayson turned that charming, easy smile on me and gestured to a doorway in the opposite corner.

  “You’ll find the cupboards and fridge fully stocked, just don’t touch anything with Simone’s name on it. She might look sweet, but I’ve seen her tear redcaps apart as though they were paper.”

  Redcaps were vicious, filthy fae that earnt their name by dipping their caps in the blood of their foes. Thankfully, they were few and far between these days, but I’d been told about the time when packs of them had roamed the cities and given hunters a lot of trouble.

  “So how long have you and Alasdair been together?” he asked casually.

  I paused mid-step on my way to the kitchen. “We’re not together.”

  I felt his gaze on my back as I slipped into the kitchen and looked for some bread and meat for sandwiches.

  “So how come you have fire magic? I thought made weren’t supposed to have magic?”

  My heart stopped dead in my chest.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked and hoped I’d misheard.