Pack of Secrets, page 25
Even the birds were bizarre. I had to do a double-take as we passed a flock of yellow-faced flying freaks that appeared to be spawned from the regrettable encounter of a seagull and a vulture. At least they were smart enough to get out of my way.
Camels and livestock grazed near the few small, sparsely populated villages dotting the coastline. I did a quick sweep of the island and then landed on the north end beside the only pier I found. Due to the size of the galleon, it would have to dock there if it docked at all. I focused on the chalice, but it was still a considerable distance away, which meant we had plenty of time to rest up, investigate the area, and find somewhere to hide before the wolves arrived.
Tyrin staggered off my back, still grumbling about the bumpy ride. I smiled to myself. The aerial acrobatics were admittedly uncalled for, but the sound of him squealing like a pig had almost made up for the trouble of carrying his stony ass. The bastard was lucky to be alive and therefore had nothing to complain about. He dropped our bags on the beach, opening his to rifle through it. Positioning myself to watch both the sea and the narrow coastline, I sunk into the warm white sand and made myself comfortable. Between the rhythmic roar of the surf, the muted glare of the setting sun, and the temperate breeze coming off the sea, my overtaxed muscles relaxed, and my eyelids started to droop.
“How far out is the ship?” Tyrin asked.
I cracked an eyelid and focused on the chalice, considering the distance. “They are about two-thirds of the way here,” I replied telepathically. “They appear to be moving slowly now, and I do not anticipate their arrival until sometime tomorrow.”
“Good. Then we’ve got time, then.”
Time for what, he did not say, and I did not care enough to ask. I planned to spend my time napping, and then maybe I would hunt down a camel since I was curious about the taste.
“Have you ever eaten camel meat?” I asked Tyrin.
“Yes, and I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s like beef but leaner. Tougher. And more gamey.” He grimaced. “Not enough fat to flavor it.”
Well, that was disappointing.
Hands full, Tyrin marched to the pier and unrolled about twelve feet of netting material.
My eyelids drifted closed, but the sound of tin scraping against glass tugged at my attention. I watched as he unscrewed the lid off a jar and smeared a goopy substance over the flattened net. A putrid fishy stench declared an act of war on my nostrils. I snorted in disgust and tucked my muzzle under my wing, keeping one eye out so I could spy on the gargoyle. He gathered driftwood and stones, arranging the supplies on the pier. Scooping up the net, he slipped into the water with a splash before stretching his net from the dock outward. Making multiple trips back to the pier for the driftwood and stones, he kept disappearing beneath the surface to secure the net.
Finished and dripping wet, he emerged from the water and scurried around the beach, collecting more driftwood and tossing it into a pile. I was trying to sleep, and the bastard was making enough noise to wake the dead.
“Do you mind?” I asked.
“Do you want to eat or not?” he shot back.
Now that he mentioned it, I was hungry. If he planned to feed me, I would not complain.
The gargoyle lit a fire. Driftwood crackled and popped as he coaxed the flame to life. Once it was soundly roaring, he waded back out to his net. The tide was coming in, and the water was higher now, almost over his head. He disappeared beneath the surface. Seconds ticked by, and I feared I would have to go in after the idiot. Not because I cared about his wellbeing, of course, but because Catori would never let me hear the end of it if I let him drown or get eaten by a sea creature. I scanned the water. No sign of a struggle, no flailing Norseman, nothing but silence.
I was about to get up and investigate when a mop of brown hair crested the waves. Tyrin popped his head up. His breathing was labored, but determination had etched itself into the hard lines of his face. He swore and wrestled with something as it splashed about. Emerging with a sizable rose-colored fish, he produced a switchblade, flicked it open, and gutted the fish. Dumping the entrails back into the sea, he rinsed off both blade and fish before scooping up a couple of thin, long sticks and heading toward the fire.
He stopped in front of me. “Unless you want to eat this snapper raw, I suggest you grow a pair of thumbs so you can roast it.”
I considered having him toss it to me raw, but there was an insinuation of laziness in his statement I did not care for. Begrudgingly, I called on my magic to transform me into a human. Sand enveloped my feet, an oddly pleasant sensation. I wiggled my toes, sinking deeper, and accepted half of the fish and a stick from Tyrin.
Snapper had a clean, light flavor with the barest hint of nutty aftertaste. The smoke added a complexity that danced over my tastebuds. The fish would be perfect with some light seasoning and paired with rice pilaf or scalloped potatoes. Perhaps I could freeze a fillet and take it home to see what my cook could do with it.
How many delicious wonders had I missed out on?
Once the curse was broken, I would finally be able to find out.
After the snapper, we gobbled down grouper, coral trout, and a teal-colored fish Tyrin had never seen before. The scenery was idyllic, the temperature was pleasant, and the beach was peaceful. We ate in relaxed silence, watching the flames flicker. I was dangerously close to enjoying myself before Tyrin had to open his mouth and ruin the moment.
“Here, the ocean is full of fish,” he said with a wistful look in his eyes. “Back home, my people would have had to fish for days to catch what we just consumed.”
I stared at him, somewhat shocked he had the balls to attempt a casual conversation with me. There was a time when my húskarl’s words had mattered to me. When I was a child, he used to take me hunting and camping on our property. In the evenings, I would sit at his feet and listen to stories about his people and his childhood home. He taught me how to ride a horse—much to the equine’s horror—and how to climb trees. Together, we built forts, repaired fences, dug ditches, and played tricks on Tyrin’s men.
He was the closest thing I had had to a father, once.
But that was before Mom had died, and the trainers had started cycling through my life. Another memory surfaced.
Fire licked at my back, the stench of my own burnt flesh and blood thick in my nostrils. Tyrin looked on, his face a mask of stone as I screamed for him to save me.
He had said and done nothing, yet that was the most painful memory of my childhood.
More memories trickled in as I stared into the dying embers.
“And what do you have to offer me? A golden shackle? My own feather bed next to yours in this luxurious cell? Not interested. Get off your knee. You’re humiliating yourself.”
Despite the heat of the island, a chill slithered up my spine.
“If you were smart, you’d want to be alone,” a voice from my past whispered. “Everyone you care for will betray you.”
I hadn’t wanted to believe her, but she’d been right.
Sitting beside one of my betrayers now, contentedly sharing a meal, felt like yet another stab in the back to the boy I had once been. Tyrin had not done a damn thing to deserve my forgiveness, and the idea of swapping stories with him lit a fire under my temper.
“Save your tales, Tyrin,” I snapped. “We are not friends. You are only here at the insistence of Catori. I would still kill you if she would allow it.”
He looked like he was about to argue, so, staying in my human form, I wrapped myself in magic, pushing and pulling the air currents to lift myself atop a nearby cliff. There, I kept watch on the pier while staying out of range of Tyrin’s ceaseless clamor.
I did not see where the gargoyle slept, nor did I care.
Grace’s ship arrived around noon. As soon as it was in range, the buzzing in my head vanished, and I nodded to Tyrin, letting him know the chalice was still on the ship. Hopefully, the girl was as well. I had woken up still pissed at the gargoyle, but the fish breakfast he had prepared for us took the edge off both my anger and my hunger. With stomachs full, I had lifted us both up to the cliff to watch for the ship. Now he stood beside me with his spyglass to his eye.
Rather than docking, the galleon dropped anchor off the coast and lowered a dinghy into the sea. Two sailors rowed the wolves in and dropped them off at the end of the pier. There was a tense exchange, and then Chaz handed one of the sailors something I could not see from my position on the cliff.
Chaz and his team headed for the shore while the sailors rowed back toward the ship. As the wolves stepped onto the beach, one rower in the dinghy stood, waving his arms at the bow of the galleon and shouting in a language that sounded ancient. Two sailors scurried over the deck, their steps full of purpose.
Chaz spun around to watch the commotion, questions etched into the lines of his face.
Grace’s gaze flickered to the ship, and her posture stiffened.
“Hey, remember that peculiar fire in the galleon’s figurehead?” Tyrin asked from his spot beside me.
“Yes, why?” I followed his gaze and saw the answer for myself. “Shit.”
“Yep. And judging by the guilty look on her face, your little thief found something else to steal.”
My gaze shot back to the shore. Grace tugged on the alpha’s arm. I could not hear her words from where I hid, but her pleading, desperate expression spoke volumes.
The alpha swore. Even the deaf would have heard him. Shaking my head at the surprising turn of events, I chuckled as Grace removed a spray bottle from the side pocket of her backpack and spritzed the wolves.
“What do you suppose that is?” Tyrin asked.
I thought about it for a beat. “That day she stole the chalice, I could not smell her until I was practically standing on her.” That night, when I had flown over the estate looking for her cohort, I could not get a single whiff of either of them. It had bugged me ever since, but now I knew why. Even if I had an entire pack of shifters working guard duty that night, she still would have gotten away with the chalice. I would have to devise an extremely creative defense system to keep her out of anywhere I did not wish her to be. “I bet it is something to mask their scents.”
“She wants them to escape and hide,” Tyrin said, his tone impressed. “Clever girl.”
I had to admit, he was right, and, for some strange reason, I felt a swell of pride in her actions.
The wolves sprinted inland. Chaos erupted on the ship. Four sailors dove off the deck straight into the water, swimming for shore. Oars flashed as the dinghy, halfway to the galleon, turned and raced back to the dock. The wolves crested a hill and disappeared from view.
Tyrin chuckled. “That dirty little thief.”
It was nice to know I was not the only sucker she had ripped off. There was less shame in getting robbed by a professional. Marginally.
“How long do you think fish people can survive on land?” I asked.
“Not as long as the wolves, that’s for sure.” Tyrin grinned. “And the fish people are already struggling.”
I followed his gaze to find the dinghy smacking against the dock as the rowers jumped out and sprinted after the wolves without tying up their ride. It drifted, smashing into one of the sailors swimming in from the ship. He shoved the dinghy away but not before it got in his way and slowed him down. Two more got tangled up in Tyrin’s net.
The wolves were long gone by the time the blue-skinned sailors reached the shore. Within seconds, the buzzing in my head started back up as the chalice once again slipped out of range. We could not let the wolves escape. As entertaining as the sailors were to watch, we needed to hunt them down. Again. Maybe we could reach the troublesome wolf before she got herself killed by someone else.
Lowering his spyglass, Tyrin grinned. “She certainly keeps things interesting.”
Grace
“Dammit, Grace, what the hell did you do?” the alpha shouted as we ran.
“I…” Feet pounding against the ground, I tried to conjure up the best possible defense, but my motive was unimportant. I knew my father, and nothing I said or did would justify my actions in his eyes. Not when my actions had led to us being chased by creepy fish people who outnumbered us and didn’t seem at all reasonable or forgiving. Still, I had to try to plead my case.
“They were torturing her!” I blurted out. It wasn’t an eloquent defense, but it was honest and to the point.
By the fury raging in his irises, you’d think I’d just admitted to selling pack secrets or giving away our food supply. He looked like he wanted to strangle me. If we escaped the Sons of Oannes, I was in for the punishment of my life.
“They can’t track us now,” I said, having masked our scents. “All we have to do is hide until they return to their ship. They can’t stay on land forever.”
“We don’t have time to hide,” the alpha shouted. “Shift!” he commanded.
The order wasn’t meant for me, but the compulsion still made my wolf fight to obey. Pain erupted in my stomach, but I squeezed my core tight and kept sprinting. The alpha, Mackiel, and Rust lurched forward, sprouting fur and shredding clothing. Instead of hands, paws hit the ground. Bags fell from shoulders as their bodies contorted and changed. With one smooth drop of their heads, they scooped up their discarded bags between their teeth and kicked their speed into high gear. I pushed myself hard, pulling energy from my wolf to keep up as best as I could.
We circled a small village, giving it a wide birth. A woman must have seen us because she shouted a warning, no doubt wondering why three giant wolves were racing alongside a human. My sniffer picked up some intriguing animal scents, but I didn’t smell any other wolves. I wondered if my companions were the first the woman had seen.
Despite my best efforts to keep up, I started lagging behind. The stitch in my side was killing me, but I was trying to ignore it. Mackiel slowed his speed to match mine and nudged me with his muzzle. I knew what he wanted me to do, but I didn’t want to be a burden, so I pushed myself harder.
The alpha turned and snarled at me, ears flat against his head in warning. Since I was already skating on thin ice, I gave in, leaping onto my friend’s back without breaking stride. I tried to distribute my weight evenly, but I threw him off balance, and he had to pump his brakes to avoid taking a tumble.
“Sorry,” I said, burying my hands in his fur and holding on for all I was worth.
I’d ridden on his back dozens of times, and he always assured me it didn’t hurt. But that was leisurely running; now, we were trying to match the speed of sound. Despite my attempts to be gentle, with every lurch, I tugged on his pelt. No matter what he claimed, that had to be painful.
Wind stung my face as the bizarre landscape of Socotra zipped by in a blur of shapes and colors. We darted over hills, and I clung to my friend while trying not to fixate on my inevitable confrontation with the alpha. About twenty-four hours ago, he’d called me his daughter, giving me hope we might actually have a relationship someday. Now, his wolf looked at me like he understood why some parents ate their young.
I wished we could go back to that moment on the ship. I wouldn’t change anything that had happened since, but I wanted to feel his acceptance one more time. Just for a moment. I had no idea what kind of reckoning was in store for me, but I’d consider myself lucky if he didn’t banish me from the pack for my insubordination. Here he was, going through all this trouble to free my wolf so I could be a normal member of the pack, and I’d put him and his team in danger.
I should have woken him and asked if I could free Anunit.
He probably would have said no since Anunit wasn’t pack. But she was a sentient being, dammit, with hopes and dreams and a family. She didn’t deserve to be enslaved and tortured. Hell, nobody deserved that sort of treatment. Leaving her trapped in an iron cage, collecting new scars every time the waves got too rocky, hadn’t been an option. Not if I ever wanted to look myself in the mirror again.
I didn’t expect my father, pack loyalist that he was, to understand my convictions. What was done was done, and I’d have to live with the consequences.
We skirted a low mountain range before dipping into a narrow ravine. Single file, we loped over pale limestone through an area where the walls connected about a foot over Dad’s head to close in a cramped passageway. As the team slowed to a walk, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Our collective breathing sounded heavy and labored, and our footsteps echoed as we marched toward the light ahead. The narrow tunnel opened to an equally narrow canyon, and Mackiel slowed, following the alpha’s lead. A shallow pool of radiant orange water ringed with matching rocks stood before us.
All three wolves came to a halt. The alpha must have sent a command through the pack bond because power streamed from him. Mackiel dropped the bag hanging from his mouth, and the fur on his back began to melt away. I leaped off him, putting as much space between us as possible. The kiss we’d shared on the Fiery Stormbird had been uncomfortable enough; straddling his naked human form would be a whole new level of awkward.
Spinning so I didn’t have to see Dad or Rust naked either, I took in my surroundings. The pale limestone canyon floor felt solid beneath my feet. Spongy, moss-covered walls led beyond the shallow orange pool and veered sharply to the left.
“What is this place?” I asked. Power vibrated from the rocks and echoed off the walls. It felt magical and sacred.
“Wadi Dirhur Canyon,” the alpha said, his words clipped with barely suppressed anger as he adjusted the rifle, still on its sling, around his shoulder and picked up his bag.
He and Rust must have had their weapons strapped on for the entire run. Talk about one uncomfortable dash. Mackiel’s staff was nowhere in sight, and the handle of his Glock was sticking out of a side pocket of his bag.
