Pack of Secrets, page 6
I had never met anyone like her before.
Of course, I had made the acquaintance of very few people, most of whom I would hunt down like prey if I was ever released from my curse.
Regardless, I needed to kill her, and my conscience rejected the idea of committing the act while she was helpless in human form. Yet her beast was trapped, and not even I could release it. I had no idea how she had summoned my past trauma and used it against me, and I felt ill-prepared to go after her until I found out how to block or counter her unusual attack. But I would see that problematic little wolf again soon.
Guaranteed.
Turning my back on the woman and her escape vehicle, I flew toward home, keeping an eye out for the second intruder, the one who had been tormenting my guards when I shot after the chalice. If I could not put an end to the beast, tearing her companion to shreds would offer some satisfaction at least.
When my grandfather was alive, he had encouraged our land to grow uncultivated, a custom my mother had continued. After the war, magic flares had supercharged the forest growth until it created a canopy of greenery. The natural camouflage helped hide the estate from the outside world but made it frustrating to search through. I flew over my family’s sprawling estate, scanning the ground for any sign of the second shifter or the guards chasing him. Finding nothing, I gave up and landed between the two ivy-covered stone pillars that marked the manor’s main entrance. The tender flesh of my ankles protested beneath my weight, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it.
The head of my security team came barreling around an overgrown hedge and stopped short when he saw me still in dragon form. Anger iced over my veins at the sight. In response, his pulse skyrocketed, and his gargoyle defenses kicked in, emitting a rancid meat stench that made me want to cover my nose with a wing. No predator in its right mind would want to take a bite out of a frightened gargoyle. I sure as hell did not.
“Tyrin,” I snapped, eager to escape the stink. I could not speak aloud in my dragon form but could communicate telepathically. “Report.”
“Yes, m’lord,” he said with a bow. He rose, and his gaze shot to my chin, avoiding my eyes. “We found one intruder west of the manor’s treasure wing.” The “r” of intruder and manor came out tapped, his Norwegian accent heavier than usual in his distress.
He paused, awaiting my reaction. Tyrin’s service was a gift from my father. When my mother was three months pregnant, he had shown up with a letter from the one-night stand who had impregnated her, claiming that the blood debt he owed my sire had been transferred to me, along with my father’s curse. The Norseman called himself a húskarl—a household bodyguard—but he had been little more than a worthless shadow so far. Tyrin and I had very different views on what “guarding” entailed. He had placidly stood back and watched as other “gifts” from my father all but murdered me in the name of training. Not only had he failed to protect me, but he had borne witness to my shame and suffering. I could never forgive him for his inaction, and if I ever figured out how to kill the stony bastard, I wouldn’t hesitate.
“The intruder ran into the barn, started a fire in the hayloft, and then shifted into a wolf to lead us on a chase.”
I snorted, and my cool breath met the mild spring evening with a frosty puff of air. “A chase? More like a distraction.”
A feminine voice from my past whispered, “It was fun while it lasted, but nobody wants to snuggle up to an icebox forever, Arioch. Even a rich and powerful one.”
Stuffing the memory back into the corner of my mind with the others, I focused on my useless húskarl.
Tyrin’s hand shot out between us, and he offered me a bagged dark cloth. “I found this glove in your hoard.”
I could tell the instant my previous statement finally sunk in through his thick skull because his gaze shot up to meet mine for a split second before he found my chin again.
“What do you mean by distraction?”
Not yet ready to reveal the extent of his oversight, I changed the subject. “I distinctly remember telling you to add shifters to the security team.” Gargoyles were not known for their noses, but shifters would have smelled the wolves and sounded the alarm. Theoretically. Come to think of it, the wolf’s scent had eluded me until I was practically standing on top of her, but Tyrin did not need to know that. It was beside the point. I had issued an order, and my húskarl had ignored it. “I do not see or smell any evidence of your compliance.”
My threatening tone caused his pale skin to darken, hardening to an impenetrable stone that not even my claws could rake. Since I would enjoy nothing more than to take out my frustration on the gargoyle, I found his defenses most inconvenient.
“As I told you before, no shifter will make a blood pact with you,” he said. “They only do that with the alpha of their pack, and you’re not a pack alpha.”
“And I told you to figure it out. Is it too much to ask that you do your fucking job and protect me? Perhaps it is time for you to surprise me by being useful for once.” My patience vanished, dropping the temperature around us until ice coated the stone terrace beneath my feet.
Tyrin gulped. My attention snagged on his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. It would be so easy to rip the blasted thing out. Just one slash of my claw, and bam. What would it look like? Cartilage? Would it turn to stone the instant I separated it from his body? I had ripped out the jugulars of several different creatures, but never an Adam’s apple. Was such a thing even possible?
His practiced excuses brought me back to the present. “Your father had a reason for everything he did, and your trainers—”
Time stopped as my anger swelled into a blizzard, frigid and deadly. The edges of my vision frosted over, and the voices in my head—the memories—finally ceased. Nothing but fury remained. Unable to stomach one more of his goddamn excuses, I roared.
Ice poured from my throat. It coated Tyrin, his mouth hanging open and hands up in a meek, pleading gesture. I did not stop until the blubbering idiot was fully encased. Finally, the night lay blissfully silent. Sighing in relief, I studied my work: thick, solid, it would hold for a while. Could a gargoyle survive a cryogenic freeze? Probably. Regardless, if he said one more word to me, I would bite his head off—rancid stench or not—so his chances of survival were better as an ice sculpture.
Besides, the sight would serve as motivation for my team, reminding them what happened when they failed me. I considered lopping off his head and mounting it on a spike to create a more impressive display, but the security team was made up of Tyrin’s clan. The loyal fools would certainly revolt if I killed him, forcing me to end their lives, too. I had a chalice to retrieve and a beast to kill; I did not have time to find a new security team. Disappointed by the necessity of keeping him alive, I used a pulse of magic to shove Tyrin’s frozen body out of the way and another to open the twelve-foot-tall wooden double doors. I ducked inside, my claws clicking against the pale marble floor.
My grandfather built the manor in the early 1900s when Washington was a newly formed state, the forest wild and alive. It was approximately twelve-thousand square feet, three floors, and modeled after the European gothic castle keeps of the late 1800s.
I closed the doors behind me and shifted back into my human form. This time, the transition was instantaneous. My clothes and sword flashed into existence precisely as they had been before I transformed. Healing had sapped a significant amount of my strength, but as I strode toward the stairs that led to the second-floor landing, I was careful not to let my exhaustion show.
“Everyone you care for will betray you,” the feminine voice from my past whispered in the back of my mind. I almost tripped on the stair but gripped the banister and kept walking. I had forced myself to forget about that section of my curse more than a decade ago. Now that the thought had broken free, it refused to be locked away again.
‘Betrayed by all’ was the exact wording of the curse, and so far, it had proven true. It was only a matter of time before the last person I cared about betrayed me, and the anticipation had almost driven me mad once.
On the second floor, I ignored the archways that led to the wings and marched straight ahead, throwing open the library doors.
Rows of crowded bookshelves lined the walls and jutted out toward a wide center aisle. I would need research materials later, but I continued on to the mahogany desk at the back of the room for now. Dropping the bagged glove on the desktop, I turned on a nearby light and studied the blood on my blade. I had not sheathed it yet because I had a lot of questions about the little wolf and was hoping her blood would provide answers. Closing my eyes, I blocked out the familiar scents of the library and took a deep breath through my nose.
To a dragon, blood was every bit as important for identifying people and creatures as sight and scent. Having eaten my fair share of hapless trespassers, overly ambitious thieves, and would-be assassins, I understood each race carried its own distinguishable flavor. Trolls had a muddy undertone, while human blood had a metallic aftertaste. My blood held hints of currants and fig, almost like a rich red wine.
Since each race tasted differently, her blood could tell me which race had the power to turn memories into weapons. Drawing the sword to my mouth, I licked the blade's tip, closing my eyes as I rolled her taste over my tongue. The experience was not unpleasant. The woodsy flavor of a wolf shifter was fainter than I had expected, overpowered by warm plums, sweet cherries, a hint of vanilla, citrus undertones, and…
My eyes popped open as I collapsed into the chair and studied the blade, wondering if I had somehow nicked myself because her blood tasted like mine.
Well, not exactly like mine, but close. Could the little larcenist be of the same mysterious race as my father’s people?
I had no idea what to do with that possibility. My entire life had been spent seeking answers about my father’s people and this goddamn curse. Sure, my investigation had been limited since I was tied to the estate. Therefore, I could not physically search for anything. Still, I had a phone line, internet, Mondeine bank accounts, and safety deposit boxes stocked with enough gold and gems to buy a small country. But none of my vast resources had mattered when it came to finding answers. Finally, someone who could potentially provide a little insight had shown up on my doorstep.
And I had let her escape.
With the Chalice of Power.
The artifact had been locked up in that godforsaken box shortly after my birth when Tyrin showed up with it. Nobody could open the box, so Mother had secured it in the vault to keep it safe. As long as I stayed within a kilometer, the chalice remained silent. But now, the annoying buzz in the back of my mind was already beginning to grate on my nerves. As time passed, the buzzing would only increase in intensity. I had tried to run away from my duty once but had lasted only one hundred and thirty-one hours before the magic had driven me back. The details about my time in the woods were blurry, but my guardian said I was borderline feral when I finally returned. It took her hours to scrub the dirt and blood from my claws and scales.
Losing control like that had terrified me into vowing I would never allow it to happen again. Now a freckle-faced wolf who shared my father’s mysterious race had taken the chalice, and if I failed to get it back, I would most likely lose myself for good.
Fuck!
Rage ripped me out of my seat. Lunging forward, I threw my desk across the room. Books and papers rained as the solid mahogany smashed against plaster-covered brick. The destruction was not enough to appease my temper. Scooping up my chair, I raised it above my head and slammed it into the floor. An arm broke off. With another hit, I took off two legs. It hit the floor again and again until my chair was nothing but a pile of kindling.
“Is this what we’re doing now?” a feminine musical voice asked as a tall, lithe woman floated into the room like a dancer, her feet barely brushing against the floor. She wore a sleeveless knee-length iridescent green frock that shimmered as she moved. Everything from the dryad’s flowing movements and uniquely hued garment to her mottled tawny skin and messy, walnut-colored dreads enabled her to blend in with the forest. Faint crow’s feet and laugh lines marked her as middle-aged, but her eyes held the wisdom of centuries. When I was a child, I made the mistake of asking how old she was. In answer, she had awoken a tree to dangle me upside down until I remembered my manners. As my mother’s closest friend, Catori had appointed herself as my guardian when my mother’s death had made me an orphan. The dryad had been doing everything in her power to keep me from devolving into a boorish little brat ever since. It was a taxing job, but she was the most powerful being I had ever encountered and had yet to let me get away with any of the shit I attempted.
She was also the only person I cared about who had not betrayed me yet.
I glared at her, wondering when she would.
“Do not look at me like that, child. I’m not some blood-bound servant you can freeze in a fit of temper. Get ahold of yourself and mind your face before I mind it for you.”
It did not matter if I was twenty-five or two hundred and twenty-five, the dryad would still attempt to turn me over her knee if she decided I required discipline. She took her guardian duties seriously. And, if it ever came down to a fight between us, I was not sure I could take her. Nor would I try. Imminent betrayal aside, she was the closest thing I had to family and the one being I still trusted. Even knowing she would eventually drive a knife into my back—hopefully only figuratively—I could not bring myself to hate her. Not after all she had done for me.
Until she betrays me.
This was why I had to forget about that line of the curse again. Exhausted by the mental acrobatics, I wiped the scowl off my face and dropped the busted back of my chair onto the pile.
Scrutinizing my overturned desk and destroyed chair, she said, “I could not help but notice the frozen gargoyle in front of the manor. Are we having a tantrum?”
As was my way, I got straight to the point. “The chalice is gone.”
Her eyes went wild as she glanced toward the door. “The beast was here?”
I nodded, my eyes narrowing. “Where were you? I could have used the help of your plants.” Had she been here, the little wolf never would have escaped. Convenient that my guardian had been gone.
“I was precisely where I needed to be,” Catori said, her own eyes narrowing to mirror mine. “I am here as a favor because I loved your mother, and I love you. Do not make me withdraw my love and leave you on your own. Now, tell me why you are behaving like a child.”
So, I told her about the encounter, careful not to leave out a single detail. If I had any hope of defeating the diabolical little beast, I would require the trove of knowledge in my guardian’s ancient brain.
“You remembered the rest of the curse,” Catori said.
She did not frame it as a question, but I nodded anyway. “I did.”
She sighed, reminding me of a wilting flower. “You had the opportunity to kill her, yet you stayed your hand. Why?”
I thought back to the moment I had seen the female in my summoned light. Black baseball cap, short, curvy body, freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and luscious, full lips, she was… not beautiful, but enchanting. Yet none of that had been the reason I had not killed her. No, her salvation had been her eyes. Irises, the rich, lively green of the meadow after a good night of rain had looked me over with such desire and want it had warmed the icy blood in my veins.
Nobody had ever looked at me like that before.
“I do not know. She was not at all what I expected.”
“People rarely are,” Catori replied, eyeing me.
“Yes, well, it is a good thing I did not kill her since she may hold answers to the questions I have about my father’s people.”
I refrained from admitting that the wolf’s brilliant green eyes and strangely bewitching freckles had something to do with it. Thankfully, my guardian let the matter drop and moved on.
“How bad is the calling?” she asked.
“Manageable, for now.” I focused on the artifact, confirming my earlier guess about her destination. “She is taking it toward Seattle.” I had always wanted to visit the Emerald City, and it appeared I would finally get my wish. Hopefully, I would be in control enough to remember the experience.
I felt another roar coming on but breathed through it. There was no need to panic. The little wolf had no idea who she was fucking with. I would crash into her world like a damn hurricane. I could slice off her neck with the element of surprise on my side before she used that emotional witchcraft on me again.
No, that would not do. Not now that I knew what she was. “I must not kill her until I get answers.”
“Not a plague. And a scourge would have gone for your jugular. I’m certain of it.”
She should have killed me when she had the chance. The existence her theft had condemned me to was far worse than death. I would make her pay for it. Righting my desk, I pulled a rag from the top drawer and ran it across the base of my blade, working toward the tip. Catori crossed the room in a blink. A deceptively strong hand gripped my forearm, stopping me.
“Please tell me that is… her blood,” my guardian said, laser-focused on the tip of my sword.
“Yes. It is.”
A vial appeared in Catori’s hand as her razor-thin lips spread into a bone-chilling smile. “Oh, child, we do not waste blood. We use it.”
Grace
The gravel service road was treacherous, but I drove like my ass was on fire. The top speed of my Harley-Davidson Fat Bob was 110 miles per hour, and as soon I turned onto an actual road, I made the speedometer needle bounce. Well, as much as I could. The roads were shit, and the encroaching evergreens did their best to block out the light of the almost full moon. Without my enhanced night vision, I would have been screwed. At least the concentration required to navigate potholes and watch the sky for a tall, dark, and winged guardian kept me from passing out.
