by Connie Wood
Lea grabbed her handbag from the table next to the door, took a deep breath to ready herself for what was sure to be a challenging day, and headed down to the local café for breakfast. She sat with a coffee and a muffin and attempted to read the paper. The re-opening of the youth club was featured on the front page, the reiteration of what happened there more of a story than the club itself.
Lea scanned the pictures and tried to focus on the words but her mind kept wondering back to her dreams. To the man who was always there. The two seemed to be irreversibly linked together. She couldn’t think on one without the other being in the background of her mind.
“Morning, Lea.”
Startled out of her thoughts, Lea blinked and looked up as Brent stood next to her, a cup of coffee in his hand. He was shorter than Lea, a stocky man with sandy hair and an open friendly face. It was easy to see why he was a popular psychiatrist. He was the most unassuming man Lea had ever met.
“Good morning, Brent. What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might be here and came to give you some moral support before we go to the opening later.”
He helped himself to a seat and Lea reached over and squeezed his hand in gratitude. Softly, he ran a thumb across her fingers and she gently removed her hand and hoped she didn’t give him the wrong impression. It seemed she had, as he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“The police have come to the conclusion that the perpetrators of the club massacre were in the body count,” Brent said, tapping the newspaper as he spoke.
“I still can’t believe they think it was any of our kids who did this. I knew most of them, and I don’t think any of them had this in them.” She refused to even consider the possibility that any of the kids she knew could have committed such atrocities. What kind of psychiatrist would she be if she hadn’t seen any kind of forewarning of such hideously murderous tendencies?
The kind who believed there were wolves and polar bears in the club that night.
The small voice of reason taunted Lea. Had her mind been trying to overshadow her logic in a vain attempt to shield her from the truth of the matter—that she hadn’t done her job properly? And now her mind had compartmentalized the reality and dreams.
“It’s hard to understand how anyone could massacre so many.” Brent studied her face, his light green eyes narrowing shrewdly. “You look tired. Did you have another dream last night?”
Lea took a sip of her coffee to avoid answering. In client privilege—an attempt to make sense of what had happened—she had told him everything. But last night’s dream was different. It was more realistic than the smattering of dreams that had come before. More personal. And she didn’t want to share it. Instinctually, her hand went up to toy with her pendent and she was only vaguely surprised to realize it still wasn’t there.
She started to answer when an uneasy coldness engulfed her. Her hand slipped, spilling her coffee in a dark stain across the newspaper. Brent jumped back as the scolding hot liquid splashed his hand. He pulled a wad of napkins from a nearby holder and started to soak up the coffee.
“Are you alright, Lea?”
His voice sounded distant as the chill seeped through her body. Lea swallowed and tried to calm herself. This had happened before, especially when the dreams came. She shivered, and it felt as if she were encased in ice. But she also felt safe, like something was trying to protect or warn her of some oncoming danger, rather than threatening her.
Then the feeling was gone as suddenly as it had come over her. She blinked in confusion.
“Oh, sorry, Brent. Let me get that,” Lea said, taking a napkin and pressing it to his hand. “I didn’t mean to burn you.”
The door to the café opened, bringing with it a sharp gust of chilly wind. Lea turned toward the door and a cold shiver, icier than anything she had yet encountered hit her as her eyes met with the vivid hatred of Moon’s ex-boyfriend. Sebastian’s handsome face twisted in an ugly scowl for a split second before he raised one perfectly defined eyebrow and slowly racked her with an appraising stare.
Lea took a step back and saw Sebastian smile before he turned toward the café’s counter. What Moon had seen in him, she would never know. Sure, he was physical perfection, but he was also evil incarnate. She tore her gaze from his back and a sudden slight movement outside caught her attention.
A handsome Japanese man stood by the window of the café, his long, sleek black hair immaculately tied in a ponytail. His dark eyes were watchful and she had the impression he would take in everything and miss nothing. He focused on her for an instant through the window, giving her the briefest nod of recognition, before his steely gaze settled on Sebastian.
Lea knew without a doubt that the stranger was watching Sebastian. But why and how did he know her? An uneasy cold feeling touched at her heart. Things were getting strange. Were her dreams starting to encroach on reality? If so, she’d be keeping an eye out for the very man who not only haunted her dreams, but mesmerized her days as well.
Chapter Two
The creature traipsed through the freshly fallen snow, its huge weight making it sink up to its pelvis. But its strength meant the snow held no barrier to the hunt. The hunt was all that the creature craved. That and human flesh.
The yearning to kill and devour the polar bear beast and his mate in the early hours of the morning still wreaked havoc with its desires. But uncertainty had spared them both. He was unsure what type of beast was both man and bear simultaneously. Both powerful and strong.
But not as strong as he.
His craving was for human flesh alone, not that of an animal. Not even part animal. He could have just killed it and taken the human female. But why fight when there was no flesh to be consumed at the end?
The creature stilled, sniffed the air and continued to track its new prey. The human was close now.
The Algonquin Indians called him Wendigo. A beast most thought was legend and myth, or perhaps wanted to believe. He was once human. He vaguely remembered his human life before the consumption of flesh overrode anything else. Now it was all he lived for.
He, himself, had been bitten by a ferocious and hideous monster and he had feared for his mortal life. Until the madness set in and he wanted—no demanded—the flesh of others. After his first kill, the evil spirits consumed him and he quickly transformed completely into the beast he now was. The creature who bit him must have known the infection would take place. How many others were out in the wilderness like him? He had never come across another and didn’t know what became of the one who infected him. Maybe he should infect others, make more of his kind to feed off the flesh of the overpopulated humans.
He was almost indestructible and no longer feared anything. But the terror he inspired in his victims brought him satisfaction before the ultimate pleasure of consumption.
In the distance, a small wooden cabin came into view and the smell of multiple humans made him rear his head and breathe in the invigorating scent. He had tracked the human male for days through the harsh wilderness, enjoying the fear he evoked as the human knew he was being stalked. Now the man was in his feeble little timber home and foolishly had a false sense of misplaced security.
The wendigo closed in on the cabin. Smoke from the fireplace seared his nostrils and irritated his senses, making him unable to smell his prey properly. But he knew there were numerous humans in the little wooden hut for the taking. He pressed his grotesque face against a window and saw a family of six huddled warmly around a fire. The woman glimpsed him in the window and screamed an instant before the Wendigo launched himself forward.
Shards of glass ripped at his body and showered the wooden floor, the scent of his own blood filled him with longing. The terrified screams of the humans within the cabin were silenced in an instant. They were all dead, killed with a swipe of his powerful claws. Now it was time to take his time and enjoy the feast.
And when he was done he would go and track the strange human-bear. He wanted to thril
l in the hunt as well as the kill…as well as the flesh. These humans were easy pickings. The human-bear had enough of a human scent in him to appeal to his yearnings. The human-bear would be a challenge.
~* * *~
Tithe sat on the hard wooden pew and stared up at the stained glass window of the former Masonic hall that now housed the headquarters of the Venatoris Versipellis—the hunters of the shape shifters.
Part of the window depicted a tall-masted brigantine being swept across the waves to an unseen shore. Tithe clenched a fist in his lap, the only emotion he was willing to show while there were others in the hall. As the head of the Venators, he knew his obligations and for the majority of the time, he was more than willing and able to carry out his duties. He was a born leader and there was none alive that would openly defy him or his orders.
But every time he allowed himself to focus on the picture of the ship, the longing to sail it again besieged him. He wanted to feel the openness of the sea, the feel of the spray against his face, the wooden deck pitching beneath his feet.
His nails bit into the flesh of his palm as he tightened his fist harder to try and alleviate his frustrations. The hall closed in on him and he yearned to escape the confines of his position. Tithe calmed his breathing and reminded himself of his duties. He was responsible for keeping society safe from the shape-shifters who would run riot if not for the Venators. He was also accountable to the Venators under his command. They were men of unrelenting loyalty and some of them also sailed under his command. His men put their immortal souls in jeopardy for the safety of the unknown masses. In return, he had a lifelong allegiance to his men.
“Tithe, you requested to see me.” Rin appeared at Tithe’s side, as formal and ceremonial as ever. Rin moved with a stealth and grace born of centuries of practice. Tithe twisted in his seat to face him, glad the man was intelligent enough not to stand behind him. It was a mistake a few of the more ignorant Venators had made over the years. An error they only made once.
“Yes, I did. Sit with me.”
Tithe could feel the Japanese warrior was uncomfortable with the request. The man preferred to keep things formal, the proper authority and stations to be respected and adhered to. Almost reluctantly, Rin adjusted the Samurai sword hanging at his waist and sat ridged on the pew next to him. Tithe attempted to hide his smile. It was good to push Rin’s boundaries in small ways every now and again.
“Since Tynan has left his post in Alaska, the human death toll has raised considerably,” Tithe informed the Venator.
“It is to be expected, though—” Rin hesitated.
“You question the polar shape shifter named Dane,” Tithe surmised.
Rin didn’t answer, just as Tithe expected. He knew all of his Venators, and to Rin, order and rules meant everything. There were fine but distinct lines of good and evil. The Venators were on one side and the shape shifters were on the other. Never the twain shall meet. But the polar bear, Dane, had assisted the Venator in a battle where the evil was one of their own. Tithe knew Rin took it as a personal insult that the rules were broken. He also knew the now-blurred lines caused Rin some confusion.
Tithe knew there was no true line between good and evil. He, himself, was a prime example. Technically he was on the side of good, but the darkest of evil marred his past. It was only power, love and a constant vigil that kept him on the side of good.
“Do you require me to go to Alaska and attend Tynan’s post?” Rin asked.
“No, that’s a job for another. I need you here.” Tithe turned to face Rin. “I need you to keep an eye on Lea, the human woman who was rescued from the youth club by Dane. She has the polar bear’s scent all over her and is becoming a target for other shape shifters.”
“Why does she have the bear’s scent? Their meeting was only brief and nearly a month ago.”
“That, I do not know.” Tithe shook his head. “But keep her safe, Rin. This city doesn’t need any more unexplained murders at the moment.”
“Are the police still investigating the massacre at the club?”
“Yes. We were too busy cleaning up our internal mess to fix the investigation with the police. Soon it will be cleared up. I will see to that.” He’d had enough to organize over the last month and the police investigation wasn’t a priority. But now it had become a thorn in his side and it was time to remove it.
Tithe stood and Rin followed an instant after him. Tithe clasped him on the arm. “Watch after the woman, Rin.”
Rin nodded and Tithe noticed that as he looked down, he saw the bloody red welts on Tithe’s palm. Rin looked at him knowingly before turning and silently walking out the hall.
The man missed nothing. Which was why he was perfect to protect the woman.
~* * *~
Silvan stood in front of the old Masonic Hall and huddled into his leather overcoat for extra warmth. He hated being cold and stomped his feet on the snowy pavement in agitation. The eerie darkness when the sun should be hanging brightly over head made the whole city seem gloomy. Why the head of the Venators decided to make this city his home was beyond Silvan, especially when he had the entire world from which to choose.
Tithe had summoned him a couple of days ago and it had taken him this long to leave his beloved rolling hills of Italy and arrive in this dark, depressingly cold city. He walked up the steps and into the hall. The sooner he got this meeting over with, the sooner he could go back to catching the shape shifters roaming the countryside that enjoyed preying on the unsuspecting holiday makers. Not to mention the pretty little local woman who found his nocturnal wonderings most seductive and secretive.
The head of the Venators sat facing the huge stained glass window. The childish impulse to quietly sneak up behind him passed fleetingly through his mind. Silvan liked his life a little bit too much to play havoc with Tithe. It was a mistake he made only once at sea, and it almost got him keel hauled for the effort. As Silvan made his way into the hall, Tithe raised his head, stood up and turned to meet him.
“Thank you for coming, Silvan. It’s been too long,” he said, extending his hand in greeting.
Silvan took it in friendship and got straight to the point. “What can I do for you?”
“Something I know you are going to hate.”
Silvan creased his heavy set brows, but said nothing.
“Tynan, the Alaskan hunter, left his duties a month ago and the humans have been slaughtered in almost unprecedented numbers since then,” Tithe explained. “The population there isn’t very large to begin with and at this rate, they will all be annihilated within six months.”
An uneasy feeling sat in the pit of Silvan’s stomach as he realized where this conversation was heading.
“Why can’t you send one of your men from here?”
“You are one of the most skilled Venators I have. I trust you and know your abilities. I need someone up there who I know will accomplish the job.”
“Surely you have men here that you trust. I saw Rin leaving just as I arrived. I know by reputation alone that you couldn’t find a Venator more capable.” Silvan walked over to the pew where Tithe had been sitting at and eased onto the hard wood. He knew what Tithe was asking him to do, he wanted him to go to Alaska and get rid of the problem there. He was being sent in as an enforcer. Silvan hated the cold and the snow more than anything, and Tithe knew it. But he also knew Silvan would grant him any request.
Tithe came and sat next to him. “I need Rin here in the city. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t important.” He turned and looked at Silvan and he had the distinct impression Tithe could see right into his hardened soul.
Silvan sighed in resignation. “I know you wouldn’t ask otherwise, which is why I’m going to do it. But man, you don’t mind asking for much do you?”
“No, first I asked for your loyalty and your life and now I’m asking for your soul.” Tithe smiled half heartedly and clasped him on the shoulder. “Perhaps it won’t be that bad. Maybe you’ll enjoy th
e silence and solitude while you’re there.”
“Yeah, right,” Silvan answered as he peered at the ship depicted in the glass window. “Do you ever want to sail her again?”
“All the time.”
Silvan winced at the ill-disguised longing in his friend and mentor’s voice. “I miss those days,” he said, remembering with nostalgia the days spent on the brigantine. They were some of the best days of his life. Correction—of his mortal life. Until the tall ship crashed into the ice and all hell broke loose. Monsters from legend came in the cold of night and then he discovered his ship’s captain— the man he looked up to—was a hunter of those dark creatures. It turned out nearly half the crew was hunters of the night. The other half was devoured by those creatures he ultimately came to hunt.
In the dead of night, blackness and snow all around him, Silvan joined the elite Venators in an excruciating initiation. The ice left him half frozen and the ceremony had left him with a strange wanting that he couldn’t quite place. Since that day of blood and pain in the ice, Silvan hated the cold, always opting for the temperate warmth of his native homeland. And Tithe had always understood.
But now, Silvan would have to face the cold again.
Chapter Three
It was dark and cold. Lea shivered in the snow and was grateful that at least this time she’d kept her pajamas on. She snuggled up into the soft flannelette and squinted into the darkness, trying to use the smattering of glinting stars to see where she was. Part of her knew this was a dream, but excited anticipation filled her, hoping she would once again meet the intriguing stranger.
A spectacular rainbow of lights brightened the sky. Lea gasped, the beauty mesmerizing. Her eyes swept across the heavens, taking in the magic of a phenomenon she had only ever heard about, but never imagined would touch her heart so. She wanted to reach up and feel the Northern Lights. A ribbon of green light touched the horizon and illuminated the silhouette of a man in the distance.