Whisper the Dead

by Alyxandra Harvey

  He scrubbed at his face. “Not now, Gretchen.”

  She sniffed the air gingerly but didn’t catch the sharp burn of whiskey or gin. She knew precisely what Godric smelled like after a night of drinking in gaming hells and men’s clubs, and Tobias didn’t smell like that in the least. He smelled like some kind of flower and rain. His hair was tousled and wild and his linen shirt was wrinkled and untucked. Horrified, she sat back hard against the seat, embarrassment burning her cheeks. “Were you with a girl?”

  Not that it was any of her business, of course. It shouldn’t matter in the least to her. In fact, it didn’t. She was only curious. She’d have been curious about anyone she found in this state, especially taking into account his usual elegance. Her traitorous heart sped up, calling her a liar. She didn’t need the smirking smug dead witches in her head to tell her.

  He clenched his teeth suddenly, his jaw clenching violently. “Go away, Gretchen.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you bled good manners, Lawless.”

  He shuddered, a strange sort of growl rumbling in his chest. There was the sound of fabric ripping and the seam popping on his sleeve. His teeth flashed white and sharp.

  “I mean it,” he barked, bracing himself with one hand against the window, and his booted feet on the seat beside her. “Get out!”

  Too late.

  She was suddenly trapped in a small, plush carriage with a wolf with burning blue eyes.

  Under normal circumstances, if those even existed anymore, Gretchen would have been overjoyed to see Tobias transform into a wolf. He was beautiful—pale fur and eyes too blue to be natural. His legs were surprisingly long; his fur brushing her skirts as she tried to inch away. He was so large he took up the entire seat and towered over her. His white paws were as big as her hands.

  The transformation happened so quickly she’d barely had time to process it. He shimmered like heat lightning. The violence of it lingered in the small space between them. She could hear the driver struggling to control the horses, who clearly sensed a predator. The carriage rocked back and forth, tilting dangerously. Gretchen flattened one hand against the side. His lips lifted off sharp teeth that made her cringe. It took no imagination at all to picture them grinding deer and rabbit bones.

  Her bones, if she wasn’t careful.

  She considered leaping for the door, but all that would accomplish would be to release a wolf into the streets of London. And she’d promised Tobias she’d keep his secret safe.

  Still, she’d leaned toward the door without realizing it, and he barked once, sharply. It was so loud and sudden, it was like a slap to the face. She froze, trying not to stare at him openly. Hadn’t she read in some library or another that dogs attacked when stared at? She had no idea if dogs and wolves reacted the same way, and she really had no desire to find out.

  There was something of Tobias the man in the blue eyes, even surrounded with fur. Her heart thumped a little less like a cannon and more like a misfiring pistol. He moved restlessly, uncomfortably. The cramped carriage smelled like a forest, like snow and pine and danger.

  But she wasn’t frightened anymore.

  Especially when he whimpered. Swallowing, she reached out a hand, moving as slowly as she knew how. Please God, don’t let her lose her fingers. He whined in his throat again, shifting. She froze. “Don’t be cross like Tobias,” she whispered. “Nice wolf.”

  He was panting, front paws scrabbling on the floor as he tried to find purchase. The carriage rattled violently, stopping and starting. His ruined clothes tumbled onto her boots. The horses whinnied and snorted. “Don’t mind them,” she said gently, stripping off one of her gloves. “They think you’re going to eat them. Possibly, I shouldn’t give you any ideas.” She itched to touch him, his fur looked thick enough to sink into. His black nose flared. “But I know you’re a nice wolf,” she continued soothingly.

  Her fingertips sank into thick fur, brushing warm, muscular flesh underneath. He was as warm and soft as she’d imagined. His breath was hot on her arm. He nudged her with his wet nose. The carriage lurched again. Her stomach dropped, sickeningly.

  “I think I like you better as a wolf,” she murmured. “But unfortunately, I really need you to be Tobias again.”

  Her fingers were stroking soft thick fur. She froze as it retracted and then she was touching warm skin.

  The wolf was Tobias again.

  And he was naked.

  They stared at each other.

  She was in a carriage with a naked man.

  And not just any man, but the most proper one in all of Mayfair.

  A giggle burst out of her. She slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

  “Bloody hell,” Tobias said, his voice hoarse as though he’d been a wolf for weeks instead of mere moments. He grabbed at the torn remnants of his shirt and pants. Gretchen giggled again. “It’s not funny,” he said sternly.

  “It really is,” she insisted, even though her cheeks were red. Her gaze bounced to the brocade curtains, the mahogany paneling, his chest, the tip of her boot, his shoulders, her dress, his face. His mouth twitched. She nearly missed it. Their gazes collided again, and they burst out laughing. His chuckles were like honey wine, smooth and surprisingly sweet. She’d never heard him laugh before.

  “Most girls wouldn’t think it so funny to be trapped in a carriage with a wolf,” he finally said.

  “Never mind the wolf, you’re still naked.”

  “I’d be most obliged if you’d hand me the change of clothes stored under your seat,” he added. He reached up and thumped the roof of the carriage with his fist twice, paused, and again. There were two quick answering raps from the driver.

  “I take it this has happened before?” Gretchen asked, standing up to lift the cushion away to reveal the hinged lid of the hollow seat.

  “No,” he said starkly.

  “And yet you are so well prepared.” There was a woman’s dress and two sets of men’s clothes as well as a woolen blanket. She handed back a pair of dark brown trousers and a white linen shirt, telling herself not to peek. She caught a glimpse of his chest in the windowpane before she’d even finished lecturing herself. When she turned back he was more decently attired, if also more casual than his usual selection. He looked perfectly healthy, as if whatever it was that had plagued him when she’d found him had been exorcised by becoming a wolf. Only his eyes were still wild, dangerous.

  “I do beg your pardon,” he said stiffly, resorting back to his usual excruciatingly polite self.

  “Oh, don’t do that,” she fairly begged.

  “But I put you in terrible danger,” he said. “And I am very sorry for it.”

  She waved that away. “I wasn’t scared. Mostly.”

  “Why didn’t you try to leave?”

  “You might have been found out,” she replied. “I did promise.”

  “Yes, you did, didn’t you?” The way he was watching her made her want to squirm and she wasn’t entirely sure why. She was suddenly more nervous than when she’d been trapped with over a hundred pounds of wolf.

  His blue eyes never left hers, as he bowed over her hand and brushed his lips softly over her knuckles. “Thank you, Gretchen.”

  She had to clear her throat to find her voice. “You’re welcome.”

  He opened the curtains, glancing out into the sunlit street. The light and bustle seemed like an intrusion. “I’ll take you home. …” He paused, looking out the window and swearing softly. “Change of plans.” Gretchen leaned forward to see what had alarmed him, but he pulled her back. “Don’t. You mustn’t be seen.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you worried for my reputation?” Her wits must be addled by seeing a man turn wolf and back again, because for some strange reason she found that sweet.

  “Of course,” he replied. “But that’s not all.”

  “There’s worse for my reputation than open graves and wolves and naked men?” She sounded as dubious as she felt. Th
e tips of his ears went very red. And that was sweet too. Bloody hell. She cleared her throat decisively and determined not to be such a flibbertigibbet.

  “What do you mean, Tobias?” His eyes touched hers when she spoke his given name. She smiled ruefully. “You’ll say I ought to call you Lord Killingsworth, but I think we can dispense with the usual courtesies, wouldn’t you say? Considering?” She couldn’t help but notice the wolf fur sticking to the seat. “What is it?”

  “I told you that the wolf families prefer to keep to themselves.” He pulled a wooden wheel from his pocket. It looked like it had once belonged to a toy cart.

  “Yes.”

  “For reasons of security, you understand.”

  “I can’t see how it’s so very different than being a bone-singer or one of those women who sword-dance.” Truth be told, she was rather jealous of them.

  “Believe me, it’s different.” He snapped the wheel in half and thumped on the roof again. “Faster, Hale!” he shouted through the paneling at the driver. “There are men who call themselves Wolfcatchers. Their sole pursuit is to hunt us down for our pelts because they allow a witch with no shape-shifting ability to transform.”

  “But that’s barbaric!”

  He nodded grimly. “There’s magic in bones and teeth too. It happens more often than you’d think. So I’m afraid you’ll have to come home with me.”

  She was instantly burning with curiosity to see how he lived. “Of course.” She hoped she hadn’t betrayed her indecent eagerness.

  “I’ve spent the night recovering from wolfsbane poisoning,” he explained. “And the same man who attacked me is following me still. You will have my wolf scent on you, Gretchen. And they will come for you as well, if they catch it on you, if only to discover my identity.”

  “I would never tell them,” she replied quietly.

  “They are not gentle in their persuasions.”

  When the carriage turned left, Tobias reached for the door handle. “It’s here. Are you ready?”

  A glance out of the window showed that they weren’t in a residential area. “For what exactly?”

  “We have to switch carriages,” he explained. “I called for a second one with that wheel charm. We’ve a system of summoning and escape routes in place. Any Wolfcatcher will follow the first carriage, while unbeknownst to them, we ride away in the second.”

  When he pushed the door open, the sound of the wheels rattling and the wind snaking into the sudden opening was deafening. The carriage rolled along at a great speed, parallel to another unmarked carriage. “This one’s too easy to track now that it has the scent of my change on it. And we can’t afford to delay,” he said. “Not for a single moment.” He watched her carefully, as if he expected her to fidget with nerves. “Can you manage?”

  She just shot him a haughty glance and braced herself in the doorway. “This is nothing. I fell into an open grave, remember?”

  “I’m not likely to forget.”

  The ground was moving at rather an alarming pace beneath her. If she slipped, she’d get trampled under the horses behind her. If she didn’t crack her head open on the cobblestones first. Pebbles and dirt sprayed up between the two vehicles, stinging when they hit her ankles.

  “Never mind,” Tobias said behind her, his hands on her waist to steady her over a bump in the road. The carriages diverged for a moment. “We’ll stop. It won’t take that long. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Gretchen shook her head, remembering running across the rooftops with Moira. How different was it, really?

  Which gave her an idea, actually.

  She turned back, shoving the cushion off the seat. Tobias blinked at her as she lifted the wooden board off. She secured one end at the edge of the door and waited for the carriages to align again. When they were as steady as they were likely to get, she dropped the board between them, creating a bridge such as the one Moira had made for Godric.

  “Let me test it first,” Tobias said, sounding reluctantly impressed. He braced himself with one hand on each side of the opening, stepping out with his right foot. He gingerly applied weight, the wind tangling his hair and plastering his shirt to his side. Gretchen held her breath. “It holds,” he shouted back, but his voice was snatched away by the rattling of the wheels.

  She stepped up, dragging her gaze away from the uneven road beneath them. Tobias was lodged halfway in the second carriage, his leg hooked inside to secure him in place as he reached for her. “Look at me,” he called out. “Only at me.”

  His eyes held her fast as any rope. There was confidence and strength in his face, under the haughty politeness that she now knew hid so many wild secrets. It was the secrets that made her trust him. She stepped out into the buffeting wind as the carriages lurched over the street. His hand closed over her wrist, warm and steady, and he hauled her inside.

  The carriages parted way and she fell against him as they leaned sharply to the right, compensating. The wooden seat board fell into the gap and broke into pieces. A coachman shouted abuse, yanking on his reins to avoid the sharp fragments.

  She was still in the circle of Tobias’s arms. She seemed to be spending an awful lot of time there recently. She pulled back, embarrassed, and he released her abruptly. “Won’t someone have noticed that?” she asked, to cover the awkward silence. “It was hardly subtle.”

  “The board, certainly, but not us. They’ll think it was a broken panel or a package that wasn’t properly secured to the roof,” he replied as she sat down. “There’s an illusion charm that fools the eye into thinking this carriage is wider than it actually is.” He noted the houses and the black iron scrollwork fences. “It won’t be long now.”

  “Did we lose them?” Gretchen asked.

  “Yes, I believe so. Still, I’ll have a bath drawn for you to wash off any of the wolf on you. We have charms we wear as well, of course, but with the magic being so unpredictable in London lately, it’s best we err on the side of caution. It may take some time to find a charm that works well enough to keep you safe. You may have to stay the night.”

  “If you show them to me, perhaps I can help,” Gretchen offered.

  He looked at her consideringly. “I hadn’t considered that. Whisperers are rather rare.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt and she caught a flash of the bronze skin of his throat. He pulled a thin strip of leather from under his shirt. “Iron and metal interferes with the magic,” he explained, showing her the smooth birchwood pendant. “Only natural items tend to work for shifters, and for wolves especially.”

  She leaned closer, until his shadow fell over her. She ran a finger over the disk, following the sigil inscribed there. It looked like a combination of ancient runes. “It’s soaked in moonlight for three nights,” he continued, his voice slightly hoarse. She felt his breath on her cheek. “And rainwater gathered in a wolf-shifter’s paw print. That water can change a human into a wolf.”

  “What does it do exactly?”

  “It’s meant to cover our scent and confuse a Catcher’s tracking. We also use a drop of a human witch’s blood on the back.”

  “Sounds messy for you,” she teased, but there was no rancor to it. “What happens if you lose your charm?”

  “Some of us have the symbol tattooed on our skin.”

  She was suddenly wildly curious to know if he had such a tattoo and where it might be placed. “Can’t you use the Fith-Fath spell Emma uses to make her antlers invisible?” she asked instead.

  He shook his head. “It’s not strong enough to hide a full shifter from Catcher magic. That’s the trouble. They have as much magic as we do.”

  His house was in Berkeley Square, not far from her own parents’ mansion. It blended into the neighborhood, being neither demonstrably larger nor smaller, more beautiful nor less. It had fashionable fanlight windows, flagstone paths, and what looked to be extensive gardens at the back. A footman waited just inside the gates to lock them shut behind the carriage. As she emerged into the
daylight, Gretchen half expected it to be nightfall already. It seemed impossible that so much had happened in less than an hour.

  Tobias’s brother rushed toward them, his jaw set angrily. He looked to be about the same age, but he had none of Tobias’s refinement. He wore trousers and scuffed boots and a belt with loops to carry daggers. “What—” He broke off, noticing Gretchen. “Who the devil are you?”

  “You’ll keep a civil tongue,” Tobias said mildly, but the ice was back in his voice.

  “I can’t believe you’re courting at a time like this!”

  Tobias’s cheeks went a dull red. “I assure you, that’s not the case.”

  Fighting an absurd twinge of disappointment, Gretchen smiled. “Your brother doesn’t care for me, actually.” She tilted her head. “You’re a wolf too, I assume?”

  “Ky, this is Lady Gretchen Thorn,” Tobias said drily as Ky goggled at her.

  “You told her?” He gaped.

  “I had little choice,” he answered.

  “I saw him change shape,” she explained. “He couldn’t very well pretend it never happened after that.”

  If anything, Ky looked even more stunned. “You wore the wolf?”

  “Not now, Ky,” Tobias said sharply. “Let it go.”

  “Are you—”

  “Tobias is right.” His mother descended the front steps. “This is hardly the place. Though I can assure you, we will be discussing it.” She wore a dark blue morning dress with little embellishments. She was tall and elegant and Gretchen instantly knew which parent Tobias took after. Although he had nothing of the savage glint in his mother’s pale blue eyes. Ky submitted, which would have surprised Gretchen if she hadn’t felt like she ought to submit as well, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The countess was impressive, to say the least, even without the faint scar on her upper lip.

  “Who was it then?” Ky barked. “Who dosed you with wolfsbane?”

  “I don’t know,” Tobias replied calmly.

  “As if I believe that. The Carnyx told me you wouldn’t speak of it last night. I want a name.”