Oswyl nudged Shalto again.
"One at a time? Shalto asked, and then paused thinking. Or two up?"
Beth felt her heart break. She had assisted to whelp these two sixteen-year-olds, watched them grow up with a longing fondness in her heart, wishing they might have been her own. Now it was all being destroyed. Any way you want it."
Her shift settled around her waist, exposing her breasts. The eagerness in their eyes made her cringe. Shalto fondled her breast, and she forced a smile.
Shalto looked at Oswyl. Two up?"
"I've never done that before, Oswyl said. But sure."
Shalto let out a series of enthusiastic hoots. Get naked, Beth! Oswyl, we're finally gonna get some. He grabbed her shift and pulled it past her hips. Oh yeah, gonna get some."
* * * *
On the third day of searching for Tempest, Nikko had grown disheartened and certain that they would not find his friend alive, yet frantic to have closure and see the priest's remain laid to rest. Braided through his shifting emotions, lay a desperate need to be wrong, to find Tempest alive. Driven by his inner demons, Nikko continued to search long after the others had given up and gone home for the night. He thought of poor little Moss. The dog was mourning, and Granta was spoiling him as a result. His mother had already promised to make a place for Moss in their home.
The sun rose, and dawn illumined the landscape in shades of pinks and oranges. Dozens of black circling shapes lifted from the trees, becoming a spiraling blemish against the soft hues of sunrise, their raucous noises drowning out the morning bird songs: ravens.
Nikko hastened toward them with his stomach clenching. His nostrils flared and he smelled death before he saw it. The crows and ravens blanketed a carcass, tearing at it fiercely, pecking at each other in a dominance dance for the macabre feast. Flies buzzed angrily. Nikko plunged in, driving the crows and ravens from their banquet with broad waves of his hands. The frustrated birds took refuge in the trees and watched him.
A figure clad in scavenger-savaged umber and brown robes rested beneath a tree, with a staff still laying in the bony remnants of its fingers. The eyes were gone and portions of the face. Maggots moved around the opened mouth.
Nikko's throat tightened and his stomach rebelled. Tempest."
He sank to his knees, as shock sent him into his hybrid form, and he howled his grief to the heavens.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUSPICIONS
Malthus house had gone up swiftly. So far he had a single room partitioned off, with full walls and a door, instead of the usual half walls of the lycan longhouses: his bedroom. His nieces slept in the living area for the nonce. He intended to add on a study and a bedroom for them also. Shalto and Oswyl had already laid the foundations. Eventually he would have a very cozy human style cottage. There had been a bit of complaining among some of the myn who had been here longer, however, once he got inside their minds, it stopped. The growing insularity of the camp meant that the general lycan community did not poke their noses in enough to notice the changes: the camp had become Malthus little fiefdom.
Beth sat weeping on Malthus big reed bed. They use me like a whore, Malthus. Shalto, Oswyl, Torquil, and a dozen others. You have no idea what terrible things they do to me."
Malthus leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and a chill expression on his face. I suggested most of it to them."
Beth shot him a disillusioned look. My own people are doing this. How many more are you going to send to use me?"
"As many as I like. You are developing quite a reputation among the young males as a slut. I don't see why you're complaining. You're getting more than you ever did in your life."
She twisted her hands in her skirt, looking more forlorn by the moment. Malthus had her wearing better dresses, brighter colors, and belts to show thatalthough plumpshe had a waistline. II don't like it. Not this way. Not so many."
"Are you going to refuse them anything? His voice oozed with contempt.
Beth squirmed. I know better than to do that."
"I'm sure you do."
Beth dropped her head. They found Tempest."
"Oh?"
"He's dead. They're saying it was a heart attack. Butbut I don't think so. I think you killed him."
Malthus laughed derisively. Of course I killed him. He was going to Merissa about my relationship with you."
"That's what this is all about, isn't it? Merissa? You want that sa'necari loving slut princess?"
Malthus came around and gripped Beth's face, forcing her to look at him. You're forgetting something, Beth. You are a sa'necari loving slut."
"Oh, gods, I love you, Malthus."
"Stop saying that, Malthus grumbled irritably. Take your clothes off. Since you've been so busy for the past few days, he drew the words out with a sneer, I've been doing Kandaishee. I haven't had a taste of lycan in far too long."
Beth obeyed and sat waiting for him.
Malthus covered her temples with his palms and tore her mind open. Once Tempest revealed how far the rumors had spread, I had to soil your reputation before Merissa could learn of it."
Beth whimpered as he worked on her, shoving more arcane needles into her most private corners. Tears ran down her face.
"Shall I tell you how I killed him, Beth? Malthus asked, his voice low and sinister.
"No. Please. I don't want to hear it."
"You know how I hurt you with a single finger?"
"Stop, please."
"I put my hand on his chest, and I squeezed his heart until ruptured it. A very painful way to die. Do you wish to die that way?"
Beth swallowed and her whimpering worsened. No, she said in a small voice.
"I didn't think so. Be good, and it won't happen that way. Lie down and open your legs, Beth, he said. You're going to have a busy night. I have guests coming and I told them how insatiable you are. But I want to be first."
* * * *
Kynyr stood in the shadows of the trees along the edge of the graveyard in Sanctuary as Tempest's remains were lowered into the ground. Baroucha, the village healer and midwife, said Tempest died of heart failure. Kynyr's gut instinct insisted it was murder. He wished he could have sent for his grandmother to examine Tempest's remains, but she had vowed never to come to Wolffgard again as long as she lived. It had been eighty years since she last came here. The lycan lifespan being between one hundred twenty and one hundred fifty; Cahira Maguire remained hale, hearty, relatively youthful, and the stubbornest person Kynyr had ever known.
Tempest's death had stolen the joy from Kynyr's face and the cockiness from his stride. His shoulders slumped, and his mouth set in a tight line, the corners of his narrowed eyes crinkled. The cacophony of mourning filled his ears and dragged at his heart. Dogs, bitches, and cubsthey all keened as they passed the grave, tossing handfuls of soil over the coffin, putting flowers and offerings around the edges. Few humans ever became as beloved by the lycan community they dwelled in as Tempest had. Even the Redhands had come to say a final farewell to the old priest; and Claw had paid for the headstone himself.
Kynyr spotted Malthus standing off to the side with a group of the females from the Camp, apparently offering comfort to them. It irritated Kynyr that Malthus had managed to insinuate himself into the front of the line of mourners from the Campclose enough to the Redhands to hug Merissa briefly before moving on with the others.
The young guardsmon sucked in a deep breath and blew it out through his nostrils with an aggravated noise.
I don't know how you did it, but you murdered him, you bastard.
As Claw, his wife Aisha, his two sisters, Fianait and Searlait, filed past Kynyr with their compliment of guardsmyn, Kyrnyr noticed that Merissa was not with them. He glanced around for her and spied her moving toward Malthus. Kynyr cut through the crowds and fell into step behind her and realized that she was headed straight for Malthus.
Kynyr darted forward and grasped her wrist. We need to go. Your family's leaving."
Merissa jerked free and kept walking. Go away, Kynyr."
Malthus saw them and approached, giving Kynyr an appraising look.
Kynyr leaned in and whispered to Merissa. You don't want him. He's sticking his cock in Beth."
Merissa stiffened, a hurt expression came over her face, and her hand went to her lips. She spun about and fled.
Kynyr stifled a sigh, certain that he should have found a more delicate way of putting that and regretted his angry phrasing.
Malthus stopped Kynyr from going after her with a curt gesture. What did you say to her?"
"The truth."
"Which is?"
"You're fucking Beth."
Kynyr turned on his heel, and stalked off before Malthus could reply to that.
"Hey! Hey, Kynyr! Cullen trotted up to him. That bastard don't know how to take a hint, does he?"
"Oh, he knows, Cullen. He just doesn't want to give the right answers."
"I thought maybe you'd have a drink with me. My last night here. I'm leaving for Shaurone tomorrow."
Kynyr stopped and turned to Cullen. Claw's sending you?"
"Yeah. I'm going to get us a new priest."
"Sure. Let's go."
"I'll only be gone three weeks. Four at the outside. You leave a piece of that asshole for me to have a shot at, Kynyr."
Kynyr grinned and slapped Cullen on the back. Sure thing."
* * * *
Nikko sat at the little table in his mother's kitchen four days after the lycans buried Tempest beside his shrine. He pressed the whitening knuckles of his fists together. If I'd only known he was going away, I could have been with him. I should have been with him."
Another fit of weeping took him. Moss whined and climbed into Nikko's lap. He scratched behind Moss ears distractedly. His mother put a cup of chamomile tea in front of him. She drew a chair close and put her arm around him. I'm sorry, Nikko. But you couldn't have known his heart would give out."
"Tempest ... was like a second father to me."
"I know. She patted his hand. We all miss him."
"I don't believe it was a heart attack. He never had anything wrong with heart before, mother."
"Nikko"
"Mother, listen to me. But don't tell anyone what I say."
"I won't, but be reasonable."
"I am. There's one of the newcomers. Tempest and I ... we never trusted him. Sa'necari can make a death spell that appears to be natural, except to a mage-gifted Reader. We have none of those in the valley."
"All the adult sa'necari are spellcorded."
"I've caught glimpses of strange things in the forest. Things I've never seen before. None of them showed up before this mon arrived. I think Tempest was murdered. I think this mon had something to do with it. Tempest had said he intended to talk to him about something the day he died."
"Nikko, be careful what you're saying. You're the lawgiver. You can't accuse without evidence."
"I'll get evidence. And then there's Beth."
"Hsaaa. Beth is a slut. Now that I think on it, she probably always was and we never noticed."
Nikko sucked in a sharp breath, put Moss on the floor, and stood up, seeing that he was getting nowhere with his mother. I'm going for a walk."
He drifted through the village, acknowledging people with small nods, while not paying them any real attention. When he reached the common, Nikko spied Malthus going into the Difficult Horse with Shalto, Oswyl, and Torquil. It seemed like every time that Nikko saw Malthus in the village Shalto and Oswyl were with him, and sometimes Torquil. He was certain that Malthus had killed Tempest, but he could not think of any way to prove it. Nor could he offer any possible motives for Malthus having done it. Only that it was a lingering gut feeling and Nevin had always told him to listen to his gut on such matters. So how did he start to investigate Malthus without the mon knowing it? Most of the young village males had befriended Malthus, and that did not make any sense either.
CHAPTER NINE
CAPTURED
Cullen rode into Hell's Widow and took a room for the night at the Three Candles Inn. He rarely traveled after dark unless the moon was full, partly out of superstition that Tala watched over her people best when the light was strongest in the heavens, and partly out of commonsense because the night had its dangers, especially ambushes. He had thought long and hard about the last time he came here, about the attack on Corbie Street.
Old habits were hard to break, and Cullen was too stubborn to forego a visit with his favorite whore, Ellie Remus, at the Crimson Lady. He took a different route than usual and traveled with his full attention focused upon his surroundings, determined not to be caught with his guard down. As result, he arrived at the Crimson Lady without a single incident.
When he entered the foyer, Flavio grinned at him. Cullen! It's good to see you again. Ellie will be delighted."
Cullen patted his crotch. I know she will."
"Go on up, Ellie's free tonight. You're lucky, considering how popular she's become."
Cullen nodded. Not surprising."
He went upstairs and down the hallway to Ellie's room, knocked and let himself in.
Ellie sat at her dressing table, combing her waist length yellow hair. I'm not ready yet, Heiron... She blinked and came off her stool in a rush. Cullen!"
"You're sure pretty tonight, Ellie. Cullen's cock filled to bursting as she embraced him, rubbing her body up and down his.
"You always say that. She released him and began unfastening her dress.
He let out a low whistle at the high quality furnishings, sauntered over to the huge bed with the heavy olive velvet curtains and peered inside. You've come up in world."
"I'm popular, Cullen. Ellie pulled the bows on her lacings and her bodice came open.
Cullen licked his lips as her breasts emerged from the bodice. He noticed the rings on her fingers, lifted them and was astonished at the size of a piece of jade in an intricate gold setting that looked like a temple. I'll say."
Ellie withdrew her hand, shimmied free of her skirt, and stretched out on the bed with her legs wide, playing with the lips of her vagina. Well, are you going to stare or are you getting undressed?"
"I'm ready for you."
Cullen tossed his clothes in the corner, grasped his erection, and wagged it at her.
Ellie giggled. I'm waiting."
"I guess you are."
Cullen climbed on top of her and thrust into the moist, welcoming hole.
Ellie's vagina tightened around him, sucking as she contracted her muscles.
He could see why she was popular. A long moan escaped him as he thrust.
She clutched his arm and a sharp pain seared through Cullen's bicep. A needle had emerged from the ring and was plunged into him. Cullen shoved away from her.
"What've you done? He felt dizzy and disoriented. Poison?"
"They want you alive. She jabbed him again, a nervous light in her eyes.
Cullen hit her in the face, yanked his arm free, and rolled off the bed.
Ellie cried out and scrambled to the far side of the bed.
Cullen swayed on his feet. Bloody whore ... filthy bloody ... whore."
He staggered halfway to the door before collapsing on the carpets. Ellie slipped from the bed and knelt beside him. His eyes were open and his lips moved, but nothing came out. Ellie took his hands, stripped the rings from his fingers, carried them to the nightstand, and dropped them into her jewelry box.
* * * *
Cullen sat in a crude chair. His shoulders, hips, wrists, and ankles had been nailed to the wood with long silver spikes. All of the hair had been shaved from his body except for the thatch atop his head. They had broken his arms and legs in several places, and fragments of bone jutted through his right arm, and both of his calves. His fingers and toes had been crushed and mangled; his nose had been shattered. Bruises covered him. Spellcord on his wrists prevented him from changing shape.
The room was large and nearly
empty with no windows. Mirrors covered the ceiling and the walls, and a highly polished mirrored tile covered the floor. A square table occupied the northeast corner, four chairs surrounded it, a bottle of whiskey, and several glasses sat in the middle of it.
Two rough mattresses were dragged in and thrown in the northwest corner along with a pair of ratty quilts.
Cullen had soon discovered that he had fallen into the hands of the Butchering Serpent. For sixteen years both the lycan clans and the Assassins guild had hunted the genocidal mastermind behind a hidden laboratory in the far northern mountains where hundreds of lycans had perished in nightmarish experiments that had included toxins and vivisections.
His captors knew their business well; they knew how to cause the most pain with the least damage, postponing his inevitable death while making him crave its arrival. They wanted names, places, sources, and ways and means.
Cullen's initial despair had settled into tight lipped defiance, knowing that anything he said would sign the death warrants of others. They tried to crack his mind open with their arcane arts and there they failed also.
He had grimly refused to name names and thus condemn his fellows to death; but Cullen was beginning to wonder how much longer he could hold out.
Heironim paced back and forth before him, wearing a cloth mask. All of the myn who had tortured him had been masked. One last time, Cullen. Who are the other couriers? How does the clan get messages out?"
"Go to hell. Cullen's voice was hoarse and rasping from days of screaming his lungs out as they hurt him. I'm cadhbair imhaig ."
"Dead mon walking? Heironim made a guess at the meaning of the lycan phrase, but received no confirmation from Cullen. I assume that's your final answer?"
"Bastard."
Heironim gestured and two myn set out a table near Cullen, placing an array of bladesmany of them silveron it.
"Our guests have arrived, a mon said to Heironim.
"Good, bring them here and get them seated. Bring a bottle of Dragonsbreath also. They'll need it."
The mon departed and Heironim returned to Cullen. He gestured at someone standing behind the injured wolf. Rolls of hard leather were shoved to Cullen's lower back, forcing his chest up and out.
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