by Elle Lincoln
That didn’t answer my question. Not at all. “But—”
“Hush woman.” There are days that this man makes my body burn, and then there are others where I want to take the handle of his ax and shove it up his ass.
I’d warn him I’m going to go look for the wolves, but he told me to hush. So... I float out, following my footsteps from where we just came from. I almost don’t see them, crouched low and hidden in the thick brush, but their golden eyes are striking. They can’t see or smell me in this form so I dare to get a little bit closer.
Even knowing they can’t see me, my heart still thumps, harder and harder, creating an ache in my sternum. I feel pellets of sweat beading down my back, soaking my shirt. Patrick was correct, there are two. I sink to my knees, unfeeling of the moss beneath them. The beasts lie just in front of me. Their coats are a blend of grey and white, with a smattering of gold to match their eyes. I want to reach out, to see if they feel as silky as they look, but I wouldn’t be able to feel them anyway.
Instead, I call to the power slumbering inside of me. My eyelids flutter at the rush that threads through my veins and out of me. The ethereal dark cloud parts and as the wolves inhale, I dive deep, seeking their souls.
I shudder when I reach them, coating their souls with the shadows of a thousand other sinful creatures. Yet, what I find there has my eyes slamming open and my breath spilling from my lips in a rush.
My heart aches as their lives flash through my mind’s eye. Yes, they are werewolves, stuck in this form. Enslaved by the very Fae who we sought. I feel their confusion about the collars they wear, stealing their free will, their ability to choose. Again, more confusion as they stand guard around a Fae king and queen, each representing a different house. But there is no time to dwell. Another howl splits the air and I retreat.
At that moment, I want nothing more than to free these beasts. One more bite of the thumb at their captors. I am hating these Fae more and more. Except I have nothing on me to break their collars. Tears threaten to burn my eyes and I furiously blink them away.
Bette.
The call is like an echo of thought racing through my head. Is this the telepathy the guys use?
I need a knife, I call back.
Hoping they hear me, I turn slightly, keeping my eyes on the wolves and also on the tree my guys hide behind. A disgruntled sigh filters through my head, sounding suspiciously like Casseus.
I don’t have to wait long for an answer as my raven flies over to me with something shiny in his beak. He drops it. I reach out to catch the object and it lands in my hand with a dull thud. My eyes jerk up to the wolves who are both now looking directly at me. Oh no, to catch the knife I had to lose my only advantage.
“Shhh.” I hold my hands out, mentally willing Patrick and Casseus to freaking help a gal out. They don’t come running, so I mentally note all the points I’ll make to them when we have a conversation later. Where I tell them not to leave me alone like this.
There are few things in my past life, and this one, that scares me. One is definitely being dismembered, drawn, or quartered. I will add being ripped to shreds by wolves. We stare at each other for one long moment before all hell breaks loose. I try to focus on one, but the other strikes me from the side while the one in front of me latches onto my left arm.
Good thing I’m a righty.
I bite down on my scream. Letting the pain spur me on to help these graceful, yet deadly, creatures. They aren’t acting under their own free will. But no matter how much I tell myself that, the sting of their teeth feels the freaking same.
I go incorporeal and the wolves fall into each other while I hover over one. With a deep, pointless breath I allow gravity to weigh me down as I fall onto the back of a wolf. With more dexterity than I ever thought possible, I flick the blade under the collar and swipe up as hard as I can.
I growl as the other wolf launches at me, falling into the moss—my only saving grace between the size of a bruise and a broken bone. He’s latched onto a shoulder and I can’t hold back the scream that rips from my mouth. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes as the pain grows and grows.
I try to go incorporeal again, but I’m losing strength, proving that even immortal creatures have a limit. I feel useless, but I can’t chastise myself for long because these creatures will not give me that time.
With my one good hand I reach up, blindly searching for the collar with my knife. After several attempts, I catch it and twist my wrist. I yank and yank, and he growls and shakes my shoulder. But between both of our momentums, it falls loose.
I can’t even feel elation as the other wolf clamps down on my ankle. I scream and slam my head into the mossy ground. Just to feel something other than the searing pain of his jaws tearing their way into my bones.
My eyes flicker as my vision tunnels. Dammit, I’m going to kill those fuckers. What happened to helping the damsel in distress? What happened to them keeping our link alive so this shit wouldn’t happen? We are a goddamn team and they are slacking.
The knife is yanked from my hand, and through the haze of tears I see a naked man straddle the wolf and cut the collar the rest of the way through. He waits patiently, not pulling the wolf’s jaws from my legs. It’d probably do a hell of a lot more damage, so I don’t blame his actions no matter how much they hurt me.
After several long, painful moments that feel like a freaking hour, he releases me. I don’t see him transform into another naked man, because my eyes flutter shut.
“Bette.” Casseus’s voice draws me to the present.
You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. Of course they show up now, right after two naked men do. I swear I’m dealing with immortal teenagers.
“We wanted to see if you could figure this out on your own.” Guess I spoke that out loud. I roll my head at the freaking pirate who is gnawing on a toothpick. I’m going to stab him with it as soon as I can move. I can already imagine the blood pooling from the wound and I instantly feel better.
“That was either very brave or very stupid.” Oh, look, someone appreciates me. Two strong hands lift me into a sitting position, while another pulls me into a lap. The scent of whiskey and spice tells me it’s Patrick. I peek up at the man who spoke to me. His body, dirty and full of wounds, kneels before me.
His eyes are the same gold as the wolf and his friend sits just beyond him, with his head in his hands.
“I owe you my life.” My eyes open farther, he’s damn near drop dead gorgeous. His golden hair is shaggy, overgrown, and bleeds into a thick beard. He’s very naked, but I’m too far gone to sneak a peek.
I wave him off. “Get me to the rift and we will call it even.”
“Rift?”
“We’ve got her.” Patrick lifts me with an ease I’d find attractive if I wasn’t so thoroughly annoyed with him. Honestly, I just want to get out of the Realm. So far, everything here has tried to kill me and I’ve about had it with that.
“What rift?” the wolf man asks again.
“Your captors opened a rift into our world, kidnaped a kid, and brought him back here,” I explain, and then rest my head against Patrick, the steady thump of his heart easing me.
“Can you get us through?” the werewolf inquires.
“Can you just get us there without your pack tearing us to shreds?” Casseus counters with annoyance in his tone. Interesting, I think he’s a bit jealous. Serves him right. He could have helped me.
“Yes. But can you get us through?”
My body is heating up with the telltale burn of healing. Before, when I was just a puny human, this would have taken weeks and weeks, but now the process is condensed into hours or days depending on the severity of the injury. And it freaking hurts, like that scab, you can’t help but itch or pick because you feel it. Its presence is a parasite in your mind.
Pick me. Pick me.
Only now it’s a thousand times worse. I clench my teeth against the burn. I answer the wolf as a distraction. “The only ones abl
e to move between the worlds are the Fae and the dead. I’m sorry I can’t get you through.”
“But you aren’t dead.” He sounds so hopeful and I know I’m about to break his wolfy heart.
“No, but I am the Lady of the Hunt.” So the name is growing on me. “These men are my companions.”
I smile at that thought. I don’t mind it, not one bit, I just hope they don’t mind as well.
“The Sluagh are free?”
“Clearly.” Isn’t that what I just said? Damn my body itches.
“But then that means Balor is free.” He sounds worried.
“He is.” I don’t tell him he’s at the rift.
“Then how are these men here?” His hands wave around to accentuate his point.
Yeah, that’s a little harder to explain, because I really don’t get it myself—other than the fact that I marked them with a piece of me.
“Enough questions.” Casseus is definitely feeling something with those harsh words. Good.
Patrick grunts his agreement. I hope I’m heavy and his muscles burn.
I’ll get these fuckers back. Two days, a bit of healing, a book of pranks, and then we will be even.
“Look,” I need to ease them, my conscious has gone all soft, “we are trying to eliminate the Fae clans on Earth. But we can’t work here, not yet at least. Do you think you can take back some of this world?”
I don’t hear a reply and we’ve just stepped onto the path that lead us back. I turn my head and see Mac waiting there, and I hope Balor has already gone through with the boy. He didn’t look good and I’m reminded of the process I had to go through to become a part of the hunt. It was long, and it wasn’t easy. That child was brought through without thought or empathy to his well-being. I only hope whatever damage was done is reversible.
Which brings up an important question—why kidnap humans at all?
We stop in front of the rift and Mac’s brows are raised in question at the two wolves. I ignore him and look expectantly at them instead. I hope they understand that I feel bad. Their souls are clean, radiating warmth, and they deserve so much more than enslavement. I could never damage them and leave my mark just to enter a new world.
“We will do what we can here. But you need to understand it won’t be easy.” He shakes his head, lost in thought. I try not to rush him, but my body aches and feels like hundreds of fire ants are biting my flesh. “Our world isn’t what it once was. The days are shorter, the nights longer. The moon’s call to my wolves is poisoning their conscious thought with aggression and baser instincts. This world is dying.”
I look to Mac’s whose face has fallen. How can a world die? “Mac?” He looks around, seeing everything around him with a new perspective. I follow his gaze not knowing what he sees, but it’s something. His shock has left him speechless. “How can a world just die?”
“By bleeding the land dry. Go, my pack comes and it will take all of my strength to rescue them.” His face pales and I can only hope he heals as quickly as I did, perhaps quicker.
I don’t wait for an invitation, instead, I step through the rift with the guys on my heels. The gloomy world I was born into greets me. I blink several times, adjusting to the darkness and the dirty glasses that have fallen back on my face. I already miss the vibrancy of the Realm. The potent visualizations. Except, birds taunt my ears with their hypnotic song, crickets string their violins, and a lone frog calls for a mate. The sounds are almost deafening.
But appreciated. That world is dying. The sounds here prove that much. Even though dimmer and tainted with pollution, this world lives more than the last. Or does it? I just made a counterpoint with pollution and human destruction.
I cast aside my thoughts as the guys stand there and begin to argue. I roll my eyes at their childish ways. It’s as though they share one brain cell.
“Ye cannot put a damn sheet over it!”
“It’s better than nothing!”
“What if we sew it closed?”
“Duct tape?”
“That could work.”
“Ye daft bastard! Ye need a sheep.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Ye cannot eat me sheep!”
“Pudding then?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. How in all the worlds did I end up with these guys? Who cares though, I think I’ll keep them. With one final trick up my sleeve, I call the Sluagh, and as one we step up to the rift. I press my hand over it and close my eyes.
See? I learned something during my short time with the Sluagh, where my thoughts were my only company. They are the one entity that can travel between and thrive. That also means they can slip through the worlds because they live in both at the same time.
All it takes is a thought and the tear closes. Shame I couldn’t do this with them all. Can I?
Chapter 4
Bette
Interrogation Techniques
I left them gaping at me and the tear. Or where it had stood. As much as I wanted to contain the smile on my face, I grinned ear to ear as soon as I turned around. Serves them right.
I limp over to the dimming ray of sun as my legs settle into a deep ache. I know before long I’ll pass out so the rest of my body can heal. But until then, I have to get out of this hole and up to the top. I try to go incorporeal but I can’t. The drain on my body is significant. I’ll have to somehow learn to counter that.
A lot of the information that I’ve discovered begins the arduous journey of processing. As my mind sprints, my body freezes and my eyes glaze over. It’s all too much to process. From Morgana to the wolves to the Fae. My shoulders slump and my body sways. If I can just close my eyes for a brief moment to nap, I’d be okay. I’d be able to interrogate these heathens and figure out exactly what was going on.
Even though I’m gathering a picture all on my own—one I don’t like, and one that put this world in even more danger than I could have ever thought.
“Come on.” Patrick sweeps me off my feet and it’s telling that I don’t complain. I rest my head on his chest and inhale his intoxicating scent. Without him guzzling whiskey like it’s water, the spice of his natural essence spills over into a cloud. One I gladly soak in.
“How do you plan to get us both up there?” My breath heats up his shirt. I didn’t realize I’d gotten so close to him. Who am I kidding? I snuggled in like a kitten as soon as he lifted me up.
“I still got some tricks up my sleeve.” I snort, but he doesn’t acknowledge my amusement. He only holds me closer as though he, too, can’t get enough of me either.
I believe when I linked all of us together, I created a bond that will grow into something unbreakable. Something that will challenge all of us. I feel it now. This journey, this obstacle, we face it together. As one.
Which is an odd feeling, considering I’ve lived my entire human life as a lone wolf. No pun intended. I had me and me alone to look after. Now? I have these guys. Well, when they aren’t trying to see what I can do in a sparring match against two werewolves.
“Alright, hold on.” His heartbeat taps against my cheek and I hold tightly to him. I’ll play the damsel for just this moment, so I allow my eyes to drift closed.
I’m hardly rocked, except for a gentle sway with each forward momentum of his legs.
“Balor, how much time has it been?” Mac’s voice is such a soft cadence and the rocking makes my eyelids grow heavier.
“It’s the dawn of the next day.” Time really fluctuates there.
“When did you return?” Casseus sounds distracted and I imagine him chewing on his toothpick.
“Hours ago. What happened? Why is Bette hurt?” Someone jostles my body into another set of arms before I move upwards like I’m in an elevator. A manned elevator. A girl could get used to this. I shouldn’t though.
I had reservations, didn’t I? Although lately, I can’t imagine what those could possibly be. Everything is trying to kill me these days. Why not enjoy a bit of lust?
“Werewol
ves.” I snuggle into Balor, picking up on his scent. Leather and cotton surround me and again my body tires. Balor stops moving and I peek up at him through my heavy eyelids. “I’m fine. Or I will be fine.”
He grunts in response. “What happened to the wolves?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part,” Casseus begins. “Someone enslaved them.”
“Bette here freed two of them and then bargained with them.” Patrick slaps my ass after he tells Balor of my stupidity. Well, we all can’t think through our actions on the fly. That’s a level of multitasking I’m not great with.
I thought it was a good idea at the time and I stand by that.
“Bargain how? Making any bargain with a creature ends badly.”
“They are Fae?” Uh oh.
“Not entirely.” Patrick fills in. “Like me and Balor, we are born of the land. Each with a purpose. Yer God of Death there is obvious. Me? Not so obvious, but no less important. Werewolves have a tricky history.”
“Were they one of the creatures the Tuatha had ‘relations’ with?” This conversation makes me truly uncomfortable. I know the tale, but acknowledging it and seeing the proof are two different things. It’s creepy. But hey, different times and all.
“Yes.” Ewww.
Nope, not even going there, I’m just going to pretend that they took some wolf DNA and merged it with a human and voilà. Wolf. Damn the Fae are freaks.
“So does that make them Fae or not?” I wonder.
Balor’s footsteps slow, and then there is the sound of an old, rusty door opening and he’s sliding me into the back seat of our only form of transportation. A rust bucket truck.
“It makes them dangerous, that is what it makes them.” With more gentleness than I could have ever imagined from this guy, he pulls the seat belt across my lap and buckles me in. Before backing away, he takes a look at my shoulder. His lips form one thin line and his brows scrunch as he takes in my legs. “We will talk about that later.”
How does one take that? Is he angry I put myself in danger? Does he even know the others didn’t come to my rescue? I look behind Balor to Patrick who is silently shaking his head while eyeing up Balor.