Blood's Shadow: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 3

by Cecilia Dominic

  When I got home, I cleared the messages from my machine including one from Jade that she was headed to the coast with the Campbells but wanted to make sure I was okay. I bared my teeth at the sound of the deceitful little bitch’s voice, surprising myself with the depth of my anger. The final one was from Selene, who’d called while I was at Lycan Castle. She said she had errands to run and would just meet me in the village at Marley’s at six-thirty. I texted her that I would be fine with that, and with the extra half hour, I decided to take a nap and try to sleep off the remnants of whatever they’d given me.

  I woke to my telephone ringing at five-thirty, having slept through the alarm I’d set for five.

  “Gabriel?” asked Lonna after I answered. “Did you get my message earlier?”

  “Yours and everyone else’s.”

  “Oh, did something happen?”

  “Yes and no. What do you need? I’m running late.” I took a deep breath. “Sorry, don’t mean to be snappish.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make this quick. Has Selene mentioned anything to you about her brother?”

  That woke me fully. “Not really. Why?”

  “I don’t want to say over the phone, but it would be great if we could meet soon. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I know it’s a Saturday.”

  The uncertainty in her tone convinced me more than her words that something was amiss. We agreed on a time and place for me to meet her and Max for lunch.

  I got ready and headed toward Lycan Village. The Summer Solstice Ceilidh drew people from around the village as well as tourists, so I had to park on the outskirts of town and walk, bringing me to Marley’s at six forty-five.

  Selene waited for me at the bar with a tall cocktail in front of her. It was clear and bubbled slightly.

  “Not a beer drinker?” I asked.

  She stood and kissed me on the cheek. “Not really, and their wine list isn’t great. Would you believe I’m a little nervous?”

  “Perhaps.” I gestured for her to resume her seat. “I’ll stand since I was either sitting or lying most of the day. Thank you for caring for me last night.”

  “You’re welcome. I don’t know you very well, but I could tell something was very wrong.”

  I refrained from saying I felt the same at the moment. No need to spook her. Troy the bartender passed me a pint of my favorite brew, and I sipped it, thankful that here, at least, I could trust the staff not to slip something to me.

  “Is this your first ceilidh?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’ve been to ones associated with the Highland Games in Stone Mountain and Culloden, Georgia, but it’s been a while. I’m sure they’re better here.”

  “Is your family of Scottish heritage?”

  “Yes, and Irish.”

  We chitchatted about her family, about which she was deliberately vague.

  “What about your brother?” I asked. “You had some of his clothes, so is he here?”

  “He’s doing a year abroad here, well, in Stirling, and keeps some stuff at my place for when he visits so he doesn’t have to pack too much. He’s kind of a last-minute guy.”

  “I’ll be sure to wash the clothes before I give them back to you.”

  She looked down and stirred her cocktail, which she’d hardly touched. “There’s no rush. I don’t expect to see him for a while. So what are you drinking?”

  I got the hint that her brother was a sore subject, and I guessed he was probably too engaged in his college life to visit his sister very much, which hurt her feelings. Still, Lonna’s question came to mind, and I made a note to ask her about him again after she’d imbibed and relaxed more.

  We agreed to have dinner there since everywhere else would be just as crowded, and she’d already put our name on the list for a table. Soon they seated us in a booth, and we had some privacy, although I was aware the other lycanthropes could listen to us if they desired.

  “What are you doing with the Institute being closed?” I asked. “That must be boring.”

  “We had today off, so I caught up with house stuff. And woke up with a handsome man in my bed.”

  “Ah, yes, it’s a pity he wasn’t more functional for you.”

  That blush the color of the inside of seashells came to her cheeks again. “That’s fine. It was nice to have someone to make breakfast for. It’s been a long time.”

  If anyone was listening, they were probably very confused or intrigued, so I decided to steer the conversation in another direction. “You’re from Atlanta? You don’t have as much of an accent as I would expect.”

  “A lot of us from there don’t. It’s a pretty diverse place with people from all over. Have you ever been?”

  “Only through the airport. How did you meet Iain?”

  She looked down at the water the server had set in front of her. “I sought him out after the Cabal-Hippocrates case made the news. Of course I was familiar with CLS as a psychological diagnosis, but the more I dug around, the more I came to suspect they weren’t just talking about a disorder of impulsivity.”

  “This was after you’d been infected?” I blocked out the surrounding noise so I could hear her low words.

  She rolled the straw wrapper into a little cylinder. “Yes. I’d started experiencing symptoms, and I wanted to know if anyone was working on a cure. It was really disruptive.” She met my eyes. “It’s hard, you know, having these limitations, especially for those of us who weren’t raised in a community that could give us support and help with dealing with them.”

  “So you didn’t know any others like us?” I kept my words deliberately vague as she had. “Did anyone else in your family have symptoms or signs to indicate you had the genes?”

  She looked up at the server, who had just approached with another round of drinks, and the expression on her face said relief. We ordered our food—fish and chips for her, braised brisket sandwich and chips for me—and she excused herself to go to the restroom. I mentally sorted through our conversation and made a note to talk to Iain about both her and LeConte. There had to be a reason why those two had made the cut to work at the Institute.

  By the time she got back, the live music had started, so we had to yell to hear each other or text. We ate with minimal conversation, and after I paid, we walked into the night air toward the old part of town with its square. When our feet met cobblestones, I couldn’t help but become more alert to every shadow and dark space, particularly as we passed the West Port Inn. I caught her looking at the alley as well.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  She looked up at me. “I guess. You know, that green shirt makes your eyes look more hazel than brown. It’s a good color on you.”

  “You’re good at changing the subject. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” She rubbed her arms in spite of the air being warm. “I guess it’s Solstice energy plus the full moon being tomorrow night. It all makes my hair stand on end. Don’t you feel it?”

  Of course I suspected her discomfort came from being constantly watched by Scarface and his crew, and I resisted the urge to bare my teeth at every shadow to show I protected her. The most convincing lies had an element of truth, and she seemed to need information, so I went with her little deception. “I’ve been dealing with it for so long I’m aware of it about as much as a sailor notices the rocking of the deck under his feet. If I think about it, yes, I cannot help but feel it. Generally I note it and move on. How long have you had CLS?”

  “About two years. I had just gotten infected when the Cabal-Hippocrates story broke.”

  “So you’ve had a few seasons.”

  “Yes, but it all feels very raw still. What about you? How long have you been living with it? Lonna said you have the hereditary version of CLS, so you must have grown up with it.”

 
“Our symptoms manifest around adolescence.”

  “That’s a tough time. And your parents helped you through it?”

  Her curiosity seemed genuine, and anyone who knew me had the information, so I didn’t see the harm in sharing. “My father had died by then, and my mother was human. I was lucky to have the support of the community, especially the Council, to help me adjust to it.”

  “Right, because untutored male adolescent lycanthropes can be very destructive to themselves and their families.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in her tone.

  “You’ve met one?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer for a few seconds. Then she said, “I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else. Tell me about the square. It all seems very old.”

  “You’re making me remember my history. I haven’t been in school for a long time. Most of the Scottish towns that started in the Middle Ages have a Market Square like this one, where farmers and artisans from the surrounding areas would bring their goods to sell on Market Day.”

  “What’s that stone thing in the middle?”

  The square was so packed with people I could barely make out the Market Cross, a six foot high cylindrical structure in the center. Lycan Village had a particularly nice one carved with wolves and lambs together, like a stone prayer for peace between the two halves of our nature.

  “It’s called a Market Cross. It marked the square, and it’s where the town crier would stand to make announcements. We don’t know much about the village since little was written down, and a fire destroyed that in the eighteenth century. We do know that lycanthropes have been here as long as anyone could remember.”

  This time when she shook her head, it was the slow undulation of disbelief. “And the humans… They were okay with it? Or did they even know?”

  “We’re good at keeping our secrets.” I glanced sideways at her. “As you’ve found. If you need to hide something about yourself to survive, you do it, no matter what else the cost. Wizards, us… The ones who didn’t succeed were burned at the stake or worse.”

  “That’s fascinating.” She ran a finger over the weathered stone of the building we stood beside. “If these stones could talk…”

  “They probably wouldn’t have the patience for us,” I finished for her. “They’d tell us to leave them in peace, we have no idea of the passage of time and how all fades away, so what does it matter?”

  She rewarded me with her quick smile, and for the first time all evening, it illuminated her entire face. “True. Rocks wouldn’t make great therapists, would they?”

  We wandered into the square and picked up a couple of beers from a vendor. The aromas of a festival swirled around us—people, fried and sugary food, spilled beer, and the indefinable scent that comes with a summer day that’s been neither too hot nor too cold.

  “So a ceilidh is a festival?” Selene asked.

  “Not exactly. They just have the pre-ceilidh gathering here. It’s more of a big party where people get up and share their talents, whether it’s music or storytelling, with each other.”

  “Oh, right. There were always optional ones to go to with the Games in the States, but I never knew exactly what they were. And there’s always booze.”

  I toasted her beer cup with my own. “Always.”

  She took a big swig, and I wondered at her alcohol consumption—she made good time through that big beer, and that after two cocktails, which I knew Troy didn’t mix with a light hand. Did she always drink like this? Granted, I’d never seen her in a social setting. I hoped I wouldn’t end up with a passed out redhead on my hands. If she were to end up in my bed, I wanted her to be fully aware and wanting to. On the other hand, she was under a lot of pressure, and I had no doubt Scarface and his ilk hid among the crowd and watched us. The thought made me want to put my arm over her shoulders, but I held back. There was no point in antagonizing them until I got more information.

  “You and your brother never attended a ceilidh here?” I asked.

  “We haven’t been here that long,” she said. “Curtis only started at Stirling in the Spring. I guess there was maybe one at the university for Burns Night at the end of January.” She sounded like she was trying to figure it out herself. “We’ve been so busy setting up the Institute and getting things ready we haven’t had a lot of time for recreational or cultural activities.”

  Yet she’d met a group of fellow ex-pats to go clubbing with. Not that I knew how long they’d been going or how frequently. She seemed mostly relaxed, likely due to the alcohol, but I felt myself treading the line between friendly “getting to know you” inquiry and interrogation, and I had to bite my tongue over most of the follow-up questions that came to mind.

  My entire body tingled, and I saw a familiar curly white-blonde head of hair moving toward me. The awkward moment when Selene had caught me kissing Reine—or Reine kissing me, rather—came to mind, and I steered her away from the possible confrontation. The sensation of a drop of cold water trickling from the base of my skull down my back and into the crack of my buttocks made me clench my teeth against a shiver, and the Fey’s bell-like laughter wove under and around the crowd noise. So she’d spotted me, but I hoped she wouldn’t pursue, particularly as she’d warned me not to trust her or anyone.

  Selene seemed not to notice, and we paused in front of the dance stage, where a group of little girls did the traditional arm-up hopping dance while judges with clipboards looked on.

  “Did you dance as a child?” I asked.

  Her smile slipped, but she held on to a grim grin. “No, I didn’t have the opportunity. Money was tight and went to other things.”

  She moved on toward the Market Cross, and I followed her.

  “Oh, that’s beautiful,” Selene said. “I never really looked at it before.”

  She took out her phone to snap a picture of one well-preserved lamb and wolf pair toward the top where the stone flowed up and flattened out to make a podium-like structure for the town crier. When she held it up, a blur snatched it from her hand.

  “Thief!” she yelled. “My phone!”

  I took off after him. He was fast, but obviously human. It had been too long since I’d been on a real hunt, and I had to quell the urge to change and go after him as a wolf. He ducked and wove through the crowd, me right behind him, until we reached the edge of the square, and he darted into an alley. I followed him and saw Selene’s phone on a crate but no thief. My heart hadn’t sped up during the chase, but now it thudded in my chest. Why would anyone steal the phone except to…

  …to separate me from Selene. I grabbed the phone, and a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

  We warned you to stay out of our business. Now you and the young lady will pay for your mistake. At the bottom was a crudely drawn arrow.

  I rushed back to where I’d left her by the Market Cross, but she was gone.

  “Did you see where the young woman who got her phone stolen went?” I asked a teenager I thought I’d seen there before.

  “Yeah, she talked to a policeman, or I guess that’s who he was, and went off with him.”

  “Was he in uniform?”

  “Nah, but they’re always undercover here. Had a nasty scar on one cheek. Don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

  “Thanks.” I wandered around and hoped to catch her scent, but it was elusive with all the other ones, and I couldn’t exactly close my eyes and activate my wolf senses while walking. I’d probably get taken in for public intoxication. I found a spot at the edge of the crowd and leaned against the stone of the building we’d commented on earlier. Her scent floated around me, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she’d been here earlier with me or again.

  “Trouble, Romeo?”

  I straightened up. Even in jeans and a stylish ice blue canvas jacket over a white T-shirt, Reine looked otherworldly.

  “I do
n’t suppose you saw where my friend went?”

  “Perhaps I did or didn’t, Wolf-man.” She leaned against the wall beside me with crossed arms that pushed up her breasts and showed she didn’t wear a bra under her shirt.

  I directed my gaze to her eyes. “If you did, I’d appreciate you sharing any information. I feel she’s in danger.”

  “Oh, you have no idea the extent of trouble that girl is in. Her brother too.”

  I had to stop myself from taking that informational bait. I didn’t have time for a tale. “Do you know where she went?”

  “You know the rules, Wolf-man. I demand a price for my help.” She leaned closer so our lips almost touched, and every little hair on my body reached toward her in spite of my best efforts not to respond to her enchantment. “Giving it away for free isn’t fun for anyone.”

  “What do you want? My firstborn is out of the question.”

  “Ah, a pity since you’ll make beautiful babies once you get around to it. No, I want something different from you, Wolf-man. I want your name.”

  Her words trickled over me like a bucket of cold water, and I stepped back. “It’s pretty widely known and available to anyone who wants to look for it.”

  “Right, but it gives me more power if you give it to me.”

  “What do you want it for?”

  She studied her nails. “You never know when I might have need of an Investigator, and I want to be able to call you.”

  “I’ll give you my phone number.”

  “Not like that.” She gave me a stern look. “Do you want my help or not?”

  “How do I know I can trust you, especially if I give you my name? You’ve warned me and gotten me in trouble before.”

  “You do learn!” She clapped her hands. “Good doggie. Now go back to the West Port Inn and follow your nose from there. This is your last freebie.”

  She tapped me on the nose, and the shock went to my core and spread out in the urge to change. I staggered along the sidewalk and willed myself to remain human, at least until I could get away from the square and to somewhere private.