Wolf of the Northern Star (The Wolfkin Saga Book 2)

by SJ Himes

  Gerald was swearing under his breath. Red Fern and Black Pine wolves alike exploded in a flurry of exclamations and distraught whispers. Mercuriel, Julian, and Royrick spoke quietly to each other, and Roan stepped back into the shadows under the trees. Heromindes turned to Caius as if to speak to him, but he said nothing, shutting his mouth and frowning down at the unconscious Roman in the pit.

  Caius held himself stiffly, frame taut, and Ghost thought something terrible might happen. He dreaded what Caius would do if his control were to break. Caius stood, then climbed the stone tiers behind him and jumped out of sight into the woods. A blur of white and gold followed, Andromeda on his heels.

  “What now?” Ghost asked Burke, who shook his head, frowning.

  “I’m not sure,” Burke said after a long moment, brow furrowed. “Kane’s testimony is next.”

  He was alone, head down, hand upon a stone monolith that rose from the tumbled roots of ancient trees.

  Andromeda stepped lightly, bare feet silent over the dry needles that covered the forest floor like a thick soft rug. She was soundless, but Caius knew she was there.

  “I have lost many friends, family members.” Caius said, lifting his head and staring out into the quiet woods. “I have lost mates, a daughter, my own brothers and sisters. My parents, grandparents. All dead and gone.”

  “As have we all,” Andromeda agreed, coming to stand at her Clan Leader and friend’s side. “We live a very long time, my friend. Death hunts us slowly but steadily. It is one predator that not even our Goddess can defeat.”

  He was nearly unchanged from the day she first met him centuries before. His eyes were shadowed by grief, his jaw tightened by sadness and strife. The hint of joy he once carried in his youth was gone, to be replaced by a hardened exterior and an empty heart. Caius, the greatest of Clan Leaders within the New World, was a hollow shell of a man.

  “I thought that losing Marla and Gray Shadow was the deepest I could be cut by grief,” he spoke quietly, his eyes glowing faintly. “But to hear my own son admit to conspiring to capture his own family, that his actions led to their deaths...I haven’t hurt like this is very long time.”

  “I know,” Andromeda said. “But we both know what pains you the most.”

  The stone monolith, easily five feet taller than Caius and several thousand pounds heavy, covered in lichen from standing tall and unmolested by time, shuddered and groaned in protest when Caius made a fist and pushed. Anger showed in the tense frame of his shoulders and the claws that grew from his fingertips. Dirt and snow cracked, frozen roots creaked, the monolith tumbled to its side, rumbling the ground beneath her feet. The crash reverberated through the slumbering trees, and blue jays called out sharp warnings in the distance.

  “I…we…Ana,” Caius shuddered, teeth pointed and no longer quite human. “No matter how much time passes, I can’t forget how deeply I loved him.”

  “Don’t forget, my brother. That love is the only thing saving you. Shadow’s love for you was deep and true. Yours for him was, is, just as powerful and everlasting. You may not have been more than friends at the very end, but how he loved you never diminished, despite the centuries and the few mates you tried to love in place of each other.”

  “Shadow, my Shadow,” Caius whispered. “By the Goddess, Ana, I love him still.” He spared a glance for the toppled monolith, shaking his head. He spoke again, voice firmer. “My own son, Ana. I knew he was conspiring to depose Kane as my heir. He kept dragging Gerald along with him in his foolish schemes. I just wanted peace in my clan. I may not have been the best father, but I had to be a clan leader first. That meant the strongest heir, and Kane was that wolf. He still is that wolf. Roman has always been weak, in character and ability. Could I have prevented this, if I paid more attention? Gerald seems redeemable—he scarcely reminds me of the sullen and bitter wolf I ordered out into the world weeks ago. He changed. Did I make a mistake—was Roman salvageable at one point? Did I make my own son into a murderer?”

  Andromeda put a hand on Caius’ shoulder, noting the tense muscles beneath her fingers. “A perfect father you have not been, but even a difficult childhood is no excuse for murder and rape. Roman is over two hundred years old—he knew what he was doing. He let his heart decay, his soul blacken. He made his own decisions. Not even the most loving of parents can prevent their children from making the wrong choices. My own daughter is proof of that.”

  Caius finally met her gaze, his eyes back to normal. A crooked, pained grin twisted his lips, and he chuckled. “We are a pair, are we not? Our children are traitors and killers.”

  “And that is their shame to bear, not ours,” Andromeda said firmly, holding his gaze until he gave her a small nod in return. “Come, my brother. We must return. Let the shamans testify to the validity of the mate bond between your Heir and your grandson—and then we shall see how much groveling Kane must do to Heromindes to soothe that stubborn beast.”

  The Lost Wolf

  The warehouse stank, an acrid miasma of fear, pain, and death that filled his nose and made his teeth hurt. Wren pulled his blankets higher around his shoulders, wishing he had clothing to wear, but the guards took his clothes from him the night he was thrown in his cage. He couldn’t remember when that was, or how long ago. He had no concept of time—the nights and days were all cold and dark, damp seeping into his bones. He shivered, curling in tighter.

  Footsteps came down the long aisle between the cages. His was at the very end, next to the area where the surgeons did their bloody work, only a thin plastic curtain blocking off most of the gruesome activity. Boots rang out on the concrete floor, and he hid his face and eyes, doing all he could not to draw attention to himself.

  There was no sky to see and nothing but shadows, echoing corners, and the sound of water dripping.

  And screams.

  The screaming never really stopped. It came and went in waves, but there was always some sound of pain and fear that reached his ears. Sometimes he thought he would carry the sound for the rest of his miserable life, ever present and haunting. Even now an unfortunate soul somewhere down the line of cages was crying softly, begging to a deity he had never heard of— someone called the Great Mother. He didn’t know what religion that was, but like every god he’d ever heard of, there was no answer to desperate prayers.

  He risked taking a quick peek out from beneath his arm, and quickly hid again when he saw a pair of shiny leather shoes walking past his cage.

  “Any progress? You’ve had weeks now to correct the procedure.” That was the voice that haunted his nightmares. It was the voice he heard when he was first dragged into the dark and stripped of his identity. The voice that called him an experiment and a failure and yet never got around to throwing him away. Maybe that was the point. He was here for amusement, for them to hurt, and was still trash.

  He had a name once. A place he called home. A mother he never remembered, but he remembered his father. Or the man who adopted him, gave him a name, a place to stay. A toddler with no one to love him, he’d clung to the man he came to call father. Even if he was learning that Dr. Harmon was never really his father, but the man who made him in a lab. He was something impossible.

  A monster. Child of wolf and man.

  The longer he spent in his cage, the more certain he was that he had been here before, or a place very like it. When memories and nightmares collided, fitting together like two separate puzzle pieces, he was struck by a sickening sense of familiarity and déjà vu. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. He couldn’t tell if his very first memory of a lab similar to this one was real or not. The brief experiment that was his life began in a cage and was going to end in a cage.

  The butchers who call themselves surgeons and scientists were speaking with the man who walked in his nightmares. They discussed what they did like they were normal everyday things, like budget meetings and chatting around
a water cooler. Instead they discussed dissecting living creatures and splicing genes.

  “Mr. Remus, with the combined resources between our lab and what you brought us from Dr. Harmon, we’ve made some progress. The original specimen you brought us hasn’t shown any changes in behavior or physiology since it has been kept here on the main floor with the other specimens.” He winced, the thought he wasn’t considered a person painful to hear. “We hoped it might show some similar traits, but so far nothing has happened. We’re using it right now as a control specimen in case we succeed with another hybrid. The current clone is at 94% vitality and can be freed from the incubator in a few days. From the progress we’ve seen, Dr. Harmon decided not to go the humanoid route with this attempt. We hypothesize that growing it in animal form will force it to present the werewolves’ natural abilities. Once it’s at 100% vitality, we should be able to see whether Dr. Harmon’s hypothesis was correct.”

  There was a glowing tank of weird fluid and a dark mass in the far corner, two guards stationed next to it like they were afraid whatever was in there would burst free and start killing. Whatever it was in there, it didn’t move on its own, just floated, oblivious to the horror of its creation.

  The horrible man with the cruel voice was talking again, he wished he was unconscious so he didn’t need to hear it anymore. “Dr. Harmon was only ever able to make one viable hybrid that actually had a functioning brain, but the tossup was no abilities whatsoever. All he did was make a prettier version of a person. This idea better work. You will figure out how to take those damn animals’ abilities and give them to humans— don’t need to keep making more of the damn monsters! This experiment doesn’t work, take all the samples you need from the hybrid and this clone, and then destroy them.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll do our best. Going back and growing the specimen itself and using Dr. Harmon’s cloning techniques may be the key to what we’ve been missing. Cloning a werewolf is the first step in identifying which genes can be cut out from their DNA and grafted onto human DNA.”

  The men, the surgeons and doctors and scientists, their voices and words all blended together, a nameless group of evil men who caused nothing but pain and suffering. They didn’t even see him as a person—he was an ‘it.’

  “I let Dr. Harmon get taken by these monsters for his repeated failures. If I see the same failure in you, I won’t hesitate to toss you into these cages and watch them tear you apart.” The man sounded as vicious as always, disdain and arrogance dripping from every threat he tossed out with impunity.

  Wren huddled quietly in his cage, only a few feet away from where Simon Remus threatened the doctors and scientists who were doing their best to destroy every shred of his humanity and sanity. He hated Simon Remus with all his heart and soul, and if the chance ever came, he would feed Remus to the giant wolves in the cages next to him.

  Kane

  “It’s time,” a guard growled, and Kane left his cell without a word.

  It was just after noon, the testimonies of Claire and Roman had caused a stir even Kane could sense across the pack bonds. Ghost’s presence in his mind alternated between chaotic worry and a reserved quiet that disturbed Kane more than anything.

  His paws dug into snow and ice as he was led toward the pit. Four guards surrounded him, and he was thankful he was spared the chains in which Roman had been bound. One of his guards was in his human form and he opened a rusty, moss-laden metal gate that was attached to a rock wall. It must be the bottom of the pit, Kane could hear echoes of growls and voices coming from the dark void.

  There was little he could see, even with his eyesight better as a wolf than a man. A growl from behind him betrayed his guards’ nervousness at being in the dark with him, and he grunted, satisfied he wouldn’t be jumped. He was larger than his peers by a great deal—these may be greater alphas, but none were comparable to him in size or power.

  A short walk and a sharp bend brought him out into the light. Inundated by sunlight, scents, and the sounds of a few hundred wolfkin bombarding his senses, Kane shook his head in annoyance, ears flapping against his skull. He blew out a deep snort, and that drew the attention of the combined wolves of Red Fern and his tactical team from Black Pine. Kane wasted no time in searching out Ghost—there his mate sat between Gerald and Burke, surrounded by Black Pine wolves.

  Ghost leaned forward, one hand on the ledge above the pit, his silver eyes wide, bright, and glorious. His guards prodded at him, but Kane shook off their attempts to drive him to the center of the pit, and shifted. His change was not as seamless as Ghost’s would be—but it was noticeably swifter than even he was accustomed to, startled gasps came from those watching in the seats. Ghost was about twenty feet above him, a distance he could jump with ease, even in his human form. He reminded himself that was not the best idea, given he had yet to give his testimony and face judgement. If things went horribly wrong, he would risk escaping, and Goddess help anyone who stood between him and his mate. Never mind what he was capable of –Ghost had no notion of Laws or propriety, his control over his shamanic gifts wasn’t hindered by inhibitions or tradition. Ghost could cut a swath through any force who sought to control him.

  “Little wolf,” Kane murmured, and the smile that erupted on Ghost’s face was bright enough to rival the dawn. “Are you well?”

  He remembered how Ghost fought to remain with him through the previous night and he was worried for his mate. Kane was not afraid of what might happen to him—his mate bond with Ghost was no longer under contest, and he would accept whatever punishment the council saw fit to dispense in regards to the other charges. Unless they sought his life or to keep Ghost from him, Kane would bow to the Tribunal.

  “I’m okay,” Ghost said, his sweet voice making Kane smile despite being naked, dirty, and surrounded by angry alphas. Ghost always spoke as if words were unnecessary, his body language conveying as much meaning as the words he chose. He leaned forward so far Burke grabbed the back of Ghost’s waistband to keep the youngling from toppling over the ledge. “Are you well, my alpha?”

  “I am, little wolf,” Kane assured. “This will be over soon, I promise. Sit back with Burke now.” Impatient growls and the snapping of teeth next to his heels told him his guards were working up the courage to force him to the center of the pit. Ghost gave an impatient sigh and sat back in his seat, Burke shaking his head in amusement.

  Kane turned and strode through his guards, the wolves yelping and backing away. He stopped right in front of the Tribunal, eyeing the clan leaders arrayed in judgement before him. He kept his chin up, and made eye contact with each. Caius was reserved and disturbed, though Kane had a feeling none could tell but for those who knew him well. Royrick gave him a small nod, and Mercuriel met his eyes without hesitation, giving nothing away. Heromindes and Julian alternated between sneering and trying to meet his eyes—Hero glared at him before breaking eye contact, and Julian failed after a few seconds.

  Andromeda walked from the shadows to stand over the pit. “Before Kane of Black Pine gives his testimony in regards to breaking the Laws governing proper usage of the Voice, the shamans are asked to testify to the nature of the mate bond between Ghost and Kane.” She gestured to the shamans, and Michael stood from their number and walked to the edge of the pit.

  “I am Shaman Michael of Red Wraith,” he said, speaking loudly, the assembled wolfkin quieting to listen. “As we were summoned by our collective clan leaders to ascertain the nature of the mate bond between Kane and Ghost of Black Pine, we examined the bond yesterday. I can attest that the bond between Ghost, a shaman, and Kane, a greater alpha, is indeed Goddess-forged. It is a soulbond and immutable—the Clan Laws have no bearing in this matter.”

  “So say your fellow shamans?” Andromeda asked, and a soft chorus of agreement came from the gathered shamans. Andromeda turned to the Tribunal next. “Clan Leaders of the Tribunal, you have heard testimony by the shamans in regar
ds to the nature of the mate bond between Kane and Ghost. Are the charges of blasphemy dropped?”

  Royrick stood, and declared, “As the mate bond is Goddess-forged, our Laws have no bearing. Soulbonds are not held to Clan Laws. All charges of blasphemy and coercion laid against Kane of Black Pine are dropped.”

  A rush of excited whispers surged through the crowd, and it took everything Kane had not to jump up and grab Ghost in a hug. He could hear Sophia and Burke cheering behind him, and the mate bond with Ghost opened wider. He felt his mate’s happiness and relief as if they were his own.

  Royrick lifted his hand, and the crowd settled. “There is still the charge laid against Kane for improper use of the Voice. The Law is clear—the Voice shall not be used against a Clan Leader or Heir outside of an official challenge for rank. Kane has willfully admitted that he used the Voice against Heromindes of Ashland. We already have testimony of Heromindes as the victim of this crime. What say you, Kane of Black Pine?”

  Kane took a moment, thinking of his options. He did indeed use the Voice on Heromindes. He broke the Law. “I am guilty. I used the Voice on Clan Leader Heromindes to prevent him from losing control. He was going to kill two human witnesses before they could be questioned. Those witnesses later gave information that helped in the apprehension of Roman and gave us information on Remus and his activities. Clan Leaders Caius and Heromindes both questioned the humans responsible for assault, torture, and trafficking of wolfkin. I used the Voice to halt Clan Leader Heromindes, and I immediately returned to him his free will after I used the Voice. It was unintentional; I reacted instinctively, to the urgency of the moment, and I apologized afterwards. I am deeply sorry for the affront and wish to make amends as Clan Leader Heromindes sees fit.”

  The pit was quiet, and Royrick sat down slowly. Caius bore an odd expression, halfway between pride and worry. The other members of the Tribunal were either shocked, thoughtful, or angry, as was the case for Heromindes.