Blood of the Wolf

by Holly Evans

  I ate the cold Indian take away and got a scalding-hot shower. Neither the pain of the hot water nor the soap washed away the dirt that came with the priest’s words. I couldn’t feel clean. I couldn’t wash away the horror at what I was.

  Thirty-Five

  For the first time, I was grateful to wake up in Alasdair’s arms. I wasn’t in a state to face the nightmares and was glad to wake up feeling refreshed and ready to take down the bitch performing the rituals. I got up the moment I woke, not wanting to give Alasdair an opportunity to continue what had been started at the cabin. Any chance there may have been of that happening had been thoroughly destroyed by the priest in Germany.

  Alasdair remained close, but he wasn’t as tactile as usual. Instead, he opted to watch me with that small furrow between his brows. To my surprise, he dressed in a pair of very expensive jeans and casual long-sleeved t-shirt.

  “Where’s the suit?” I asked.

  A sinful smile flickered across his lips.

  “I felt like a change. Come on, Grayson’s dying to get his hands on that book.”

  The cafe was quieter than last time I’d been there, but Simone and Grayson were eagerly awaiting our arrival when we walked into the back room. Grayson pulled me into a hug, and I froze for a split second before I hugged him back.

  “Good to have you back, we heard about the run-in with the hunter last night. Are you ok?” he asked.

  Alasdair gave me a death glare.

  “Run-in with a hunter?”

  I gave him a sweet smile and headed into the kitchen.

  “Who needs some more coffee?” I called out.

  Alasdair blocked my exit from the kitchen and crossed his arms.

  “What run-in with a hunter, Niko?”

  I sighed and matched his stance.

  “It was nothing. Just a lone hunter. What are we doing today, if Grayson’s checking out this ritual?”

  Simone squeezed past Alasdair and pursed her lips, giving him a warning look. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and continued to watch me.

  “How did you get the priest to talk? We’ve never managed to get much from a shadow priest,” Simone asked.

  I turned to check on the water boiling for the coffee.

  “Don’t tell me you charmed it out of him, unless you mean you screwed him…”

  I glared at her.

  “No, I did not screw him.”

  She smiled and held my gaze. I looked away.

  “Your spirit is singing, Niko, or more screaming in agony. It wasn’t like that before you went to Germany.”

  Damn nymphs and their fucking spirit viewing or whatever they called it. They could see the state of people’s spirits. It was supposed to help them figure out who made the best meal.

  “He just gave it to me, ok? Can we move on?” I said.

  “No secrets, Niko,” Alasdair growled.

  I flashed my teeth at him. Simone took my chin in her hand and forced me to look at her. For a small woman, she had one hell of a grip.

  “The priest saw your shadow,” she said softly.

  My blood ran cold. Alasdair shook his head.

  “Do you really think I’d choose someone as a partner without doing a thorough check on them, Niko? You really thought I didn’t know about you being the first? Or the fact you have fucking magic? What do you take me for?” Alasdair snarled.

  I froze. My mind went completely blank. He’d known all along. Simone stroked my cheek and cooed something I didn’t quite catch.

  “I told you to trust him,” Grayson called out.

  I bared my teeth at Alasdair. “Can you really blame me? And who else fucking knows?”

  Alasdair rolled his eyes.

  “The priestesses, obviously. Other than them, no one outside of this room. And it will stay that way.”

  My heart was trying to burst out of my chest.

  “Is Simone right?” he asked gently.

  I squeezed my eyes closed tight.

  “Yes. The priest said the shadow god had chosen me, that I had shadow within me, and I’d be able to do the ritual better than the woman who was trying to do it.”

  Alasdair’s familiar scent wrapped around me as he pulled me into his arms and brushed his lips over my temple.

  “I promised I’d keep you safe, Niko. I meant that,” he whispered.

  “Guys, Mom just texted. The hunters are baying for Niko’s blood. They say as he’s made, he can’t be a Guardian, and he killed one of theirs last night.”

  “I didn’t kill him!” I growled.

  Alasdair looked at me. I glared at him.

  “Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure. We were on the edge of a park, there were humans around. I broke his hand and threatened him, nothing more. He was alive when I left.”

  “The priestesses are rallying around you and saying you’re goddess-chosen. You’re important, the first made to be chosen. They won’t let the hunters get to you,” Grayson said.

  “I don’t want to be important,” I muttered as I made the coffee and tried to steady my nerves.

  Alasdair stepped away to pull something out of a cupboard, which gave Grayson room to come in with that big room-brightening grin of his. I felt myself relax as I watched him walk towards me.

  He placed his hand on my upper arm and said, “You’re one of us. And no one wants to cross Simone, she’s the scariest thing in the moon goddess’s arsenal.”

  I glanced at Simone, who was chewing on the top of a pen as she made a list of what appeared to be ingredients for some baking. Simone winked at me and went back to her list. I was completely lost, but they knew what I was and were protecting me. Could this be what a pack felt like?

  Thirty-Six

  We all settled down at the main table with copious amounts of coffee and pastries. Grayson and Simone were furiously scribbling things down from the Shadow book. I’d been given as much history as we could gather on the packs the victims had come from. Alasdair sat next to me poring over the same information with a determined look on his face. I looked between them with a feeling of wonder. They hadn’t baulked at what I was. Life carried on like I was one of them.

  Alasdair ran his fingertips over the back of my hand as I re-read the document on the pack of the first victim for the third time. A sense of calm contentment ran through me at his touch, a feeling of safety and belonging.

  “I have something here,” Alasdair said as he rummaged around for another document.

  “The victims are connected. They’re from the shadow born.”

  Grayson raised an eyebrow. “We’d have known if they were shadow wolves.”

  “Wait, shadow wolves exist?” I asked.

  Everyone looked at me like I’d just asked if the sky was blue.

  “How did you not know about shadow wolves?” Simone asked.

  “No one took the time to sit me down and explain how shifter shit works.”

  She gave me a gentle smile. “I’m sure Alasdair would be happy to do so now you have him.”

  “Shadow wolves are as they sound, wolves who came from the shadow god. However! They turned from him centuries ago. There aren’t many of them left, and so they interbreed with moon wolves. The offspring of those pairings are called shadow born, and the victims are all shadow born. They belong to both shadow and moon, making them perfect for this ritual,” Alasdair said.

  “Yes! They sacrifice both the traitors, and the moon goddess’s beloved, making them something the shadow god truly wants,” Grayson said.

  “So… we can track down future victims and keep them safe?” I asked.

  “They’re all in hiding. Many people would love to get their hands on something so rare and potent,” Simone said.

  “Of course they are,” I muttered.

  Why would something be nice and easy?

  “Simone can find them,” Grayson said, his grin broad.

  His enthusiasm was contagious. I caught myself admiring his sparkling eyes a beat too long. Alasdair�
�s glare burnt into me. I ignored it.

  “So, what do we do now?” I asked.

  Simone sighed and rubbed her eyes.

  “I will perform a tracking ritual. I’ll need your blood, Niko,” she said softly.

  I tensed a growl forming in my throat. Blood was something you didn’t allow anyone else near, especially those with some form of magic. The things a talented witch or alchemist could do with your blood would give anyone nightmares for months.

  “You’re both moon and shadow, like the wolves,” Grayson explained.

  I rolled my jaw and weighed the situation up. All eyes were on me. Grayson’s bright smile had been replaced with a small frown that formed little wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. Tension rolled off Alasdair. I could feel him holding back some alpha comment.

  “How much do you need?” I finally said.

  Relief flooded the room.

  “Three drops,” Simone said as she pulled a long needle from somewhere on her person.

  I looked from her hand to her pockets and wondered what else she had hidden in there. Holding my hand out for her, I did my best to relax and remind myself that this was my pack now. Grayson handed her a small glass bottle cap to catch the blood in. The creases remained around his eyes.

  The pinprick was quick and painless. I still watched the drops of blood and pulled my finger away the moment she had the third. I was raised by witches. I’d seen first hand the horrors that could be done when someone took control of your blood. The memory of a man that had dared spurn one of the older witches of the coven bloomed in my mind. He writhed in pain and begged to be freed from her torture. She finally released him, only to use the final drop of control to blind him so he wouldn’t gaze on any woman again.

  “What happens once we’ve found these wolves?” I asked.

  “We find out how the killer found them, how many there are, and see if we can use one as bait,” Alasdair said.

  “There’s a chance that one of the wolves betrayed the rest of the bloodline in hopes of saving themselves,” Simone said distractedly. “We were very lucky to have you on hand to perform this little ritual. It’s unlikely the killer had such luck.”

  “Surely they could have stumbled across one of the bloodline and worked from there? I mean, they live normal lives. The victims all worked mundane jobs and lived within other packs,” I said.

  “Maybe one of those packs betrayed them,” Grayson said before he vanished to make more coffee.

  “We spoke to all of the packs. There was no sign of betrayal,” Alasdair said.

  “You could have missed something,” I said.

  If Alasdair had any fire magic at all, his glare would have burnt me to a crisp. I have him a sweet smile in return.

  “You should have been born a cat,” Alasdair muttered.

  “That’s a bit far…” Grayson said.

  Alasdair flashed me a predatory grin. “Niko knows how I feel about him.”

  I didn’t have a smartass come back for that.

  Thirty-Seven

  Simone didn’t need or, more accurately, want any help with the ritual. That meant I was sitting down with Grayson and Alasdair going over the black book with a fine-toothed comb. We had to make lists of everything the ritual needed and cross reference that to alchemists and other places that the killer would be able to get them from.

  “I fail to see why they need this entire book. Why didn’t they put it on one neat page like they do in the movies?” Alasdair grumbled.

  I fought to resist the urge to smile. He was almost cute when he was out of his element. His hair was falling into his eyes, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and he chewed on his bottom lip as he went over the photocopies of the pages he’d been given. Grayson caught me looking at him and gave me a delighted smile. I rolled my eyes and returned my focus to the pages I’d been given. We were effectively making a shopping list, so we’d split the notebook into three and were going over it looking for ingredients and such.

  “How many alchemists are there in Paris?” I asked as I jotted down the need for two unblemished moonstones.

  “Five fully registered and above board, three that pretend they’re not full alchemists but just hedgewitch suppliers, and two black marketeers,” Grayson said.

  “Fuck,” I said.

  That was far too much ground to cover.

  “Would the hedgewitches help her?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” Alasdair said before he carefully placed the latest of his pages down on the neat stack he’d formed and went to get more coffee.

  The hedgewitches weren’t fully fledged witches, and they stood apart from the covens. They worked alone and were often overlooked because they didn’t do the grand rituals and big flashy magic the covens did. Instead, they mostly worked with natural ingredients and did smaller workings: a bit of luck, some healing salve, those sorts of things. They pushed their luck every now and again, as was demonstrated by the hedgewitch that tried to bind nymphs to potted plants and sell them as familiars.

  “Hedgewitches are good resources. Mom drilled that into me. They get overlooked, which means they tend to see and hear everything,” Grayson said with a frown on his face. “Do either of you know anything about fractured shadow?” he asked.

  Simone was out in the small courtyard area behind the building. The last I’d seen of her, she was scattering something pale blue on the stones out there. The coven I’d been raised in didn’t allow me near much of the magic, so I wasn’t much use on that front.

  “Niko?” Alasdair prompted.

  “Useless male, remember,” I said.

  “Surely, they taught you some things?”

  I sighed and stretched my aching muscles. We’d been sitting looking through that notebook for hours.

  “Each coven works different magic, depending on their bloodline and thus their speciality. As you know, because you saw my made ritual,” I shot Alasdair a dark glare, “my coven came from a mix of Russian and South American bloodlines. They were primarily ice witches - my mother and the other head witch had ice wolves. I didn’t know any shadow witches.”

  Shadow witches were shunned even by the less ethical covens. They were considered a step too far from the crone. The crone was the witch goddess. She was a difficult mistress, but she blessed her chosen with great gifts such as they said were given to my mother and her coven. Of course, she didn’t really give a damn about magicless males, so I wasn’t allowed near her shrine or anything much to do with her. They didn’t want me tainting it.

  “Do you at least know if we’re more likely to find it at an alchemist or…?” Alasdair pushed.

  I met his gaze.

  “Are you regretting your decision?” I asked.

  I was tired and increasingly grumpy. His pushing when I’d made it clear I didn’t know the answer was increasingly infuriating. To my surprise, his face softened, and he reached out to stroke my cheek with his fingertips.

  “No, Niko, not for a second,” he said in a soft whisper.

  “Am I interrupting?” Grayson asked with a devilish grin and a look that said he knew he was.

  “No, although I think we need some food and a break. We’re all getting tired,” Alasdair said.

  I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with him. One moment I wanted to sink my teeth into this throat and make him stop pushing, the next I wanted to screw his brains out. Goddess be with me, what had I done to deserve him?

  Thirty-Eight

  Selene rang us as we were compiling the completed list of ingredients and necessities for the ritual. There was a lot there, so we had hope that we’d be able to pin down the killer.

  “She’s sending me to Germany to get a name from the priest. She said we can’t afford to waste days or weeks relying on the alchemists and such. We need a name. Now,” Grayson said.

  I looked between Grayson and Alasdair.

  “He’s an enforcer, not a Guardian,” Alasdair said.

  I raised an eyebrow
and waited for someone to explain why that was important.

  “I’m not explicitly tied to, or chosen by, the moon goddess. That means that I can rough the priest up and use less polite methods to get a name out of him. If a Guardian were to do that, then there would be political bullshit to deal with, as that’s one of the goddess’s chosen assaulting one of the shadow god’s chosen,” Grayson said as he pulled his leather jacket on.

  “Do you often get sent to do these jobs?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “My father was a marrok in the Infernal Realms. He taught me some interrogation techniques.”

  “I thought he was a hellhound?” I asked.

  Grayson grinned at me.

  “A marrok is a general, a high leader of hellhounds. He led many armies and earnt a high rank in the Infernal Realms. Part of that role was interrogation,” Grayson said.

  “So, I shouldn’t cross him then?” I said with my own grin.

  He laughed. “It’s my mom you really don’t want to cross. She’s really something.”

  I laughed. It was so easy to relax and smile with him. Had someone else have talked about their parents like that, I’d have tensed and remembered the situation I grew up in.

  “Come on, Niko, we’re going to speak to some alchemists,” Alasdair said as he put his arm around my shoulders.

  I debated whether to call Alasdair on the fact he was claiming me as his. Grayson gave me a small shake of his head, and I dropped the idea. It wasn’t doing any harm. In a way, I was his. I was his partner, after all.

  Leaning in, I nipped the tip of his ear and growled, “Remember, this works both ways.”

  He turned to smile at me, his mouth dangerously close to mine.

  “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  I rolled my eyes and went looking for my jacket.

  “What’s this alchemist like?” I asked.