Chapter Fifteen

On the eve of your death the wolf will come

S ebastian fought the urge to rip the heads off every single vampire in his employ. The fools. The damn fools. Three nights and days, actually less than seventy-two hours, they needed to keep Ravyn’s safety above their need to defer to her every request. If they’d even remotely put their foot down, Ravyn would see reason, but they seemed unable to even say, “Hey, let’s wait a few hours.” No, they let Ravyn sneak off as soon as her slumber ended.

An itinerary had been left behind for him, written out on a single sheet of paper. It wasn’t emailed or texted for approval, as if the foolish woman had known. Surely, she’d known he would deny or at the least delay the evening’s plans. But no, he’d found out late. Much too late. And no one answered their phones. Not her, not the security detail that accompanied her, and not even his nephew, who kept his phone glued to his side, deemed his angry, frantic calls worth answering.

His wolf’s panic-stricken anger howled inside his own, carelessly reflecting back and tripling his emotions, driving them both to the edge of sanity. Curling his fists tightly in an attempt to allay his emotions, his claws driving into the balled-up palms, he took one deep breath, letting it out slowly before repeating the process. Losing his mind wouldn’t help the situation; the rational part of his brain knew this and tried to convey it to the animal fighting to be set free.

Smoothing out the now crumpled message, he focused his eyes, still blurry from anger, at it. She’d left an address for this man, this producer whom she planned to see, the names of those driving and accompanying her, as well as the tentative times of arrival and departure in neat block handwriting. A quick note scrawled at the end, still clear but not as neatly written stated that Toby would accompany her as well.

His every instinct screamed that this entire evening was a dangerous mistake. Had no one considered that the invitation had arrived after all the wolves had left for their three days away, leaving her vulnerable under the magic of the full moon? He knew the vamps had a weakness for her, but he’d never considered that she herself would drive them all straight into danger. There just weren’t any stronger options against the moon than the vamps, but even they couldn’t take on a revered original vampire. Ravyn was more than a golden princess or regal queen who walked the earth with them; for the vampires, she was the embodiment of a goddess even if they didn’t come from her line. The fools should have been prepared to lay down their lives for her, not follow her every god-awful foolish command.

The next full moon, I’m locking her in a vault , Bash swore to himself. Inside a damn padlocked coffin, inside a locked vault with me carrying the only keys , he amended, pushing his hair back away from his face. A shudder ran through him, the pinpricks moving over his body as fur threatened to sprout. His worried wolf insisted on coming out. No, wait! He demanded of the beast as he struggled to contain it.

His curled fists barely relaxed enough to punch out a single message, but he managed to fire off a brusque text to the remaining exhausted security team to prepare them for an immediate extraction effort. This Bertrando Roland could be just as he appeared, but his team needed to be prepared for any scenario. Yet anyone with even a hint of common sense could see the red flags in this scenario and that was even before everyone on the team quit responding to their phones.

Right now, anger was a better motivator than the fear and panic creeping up from behind. Hitting a few other buttons, he tracked both Ravyn’s and his nephew’s phones, confirming that their last known location as of many hours ago matched the address left in the note.

“I need you people to hurry, and has that witch arrived yet?” Bash barked out to the team who were already moving quickly and efficiently to assemble for a departure in less than twenty minutes. The panic was beginning to creep up and overtake the initial anger. Even his wolf paced anxiously in the back of his mind, lowly whining in anticipation for whatever was to come.

“Sir,” several of the shifters sounded off in response as they continued gearing up. This on-the-cuff mission meant they needed to be prepared for anything. They could be facing a hostage situation, magical, monster, or if all was well, simply nothing except a dead zone in the countryside.

After several minutes of waving her hands around, the witch nervously admitted to him, “It’s solid, sir.” Stepping back, she dipped her head as she angled herself half behind one of his men. “And not all the magic is recognizable; it’s strange and convoluted. I’m proceeding with caution and it’s going to take time.”

Bash wanted to lash out at the witch to check the wards again but this time, he managed to hold his tongue. Losing control was for fools, and fools didn’t complete rescue missions. Of course the wards were solid. On arriving at the gate, they’d tested and retested them. Two teams of three had been sent out to circle the compound and see how far around the wards went. The tall fence that framed that gate on either side wasn’t the real protection; it was an illusion of security that ended a few yards into the dense forest. The real protection was the impenetrable wards surrounding the acreage.

“Get another witch,” he barked to his men, ignoring the woman whose stench of fear had begun to penetrate his senses and for a moment, he felt a flash of guilt. None of this was her fault and all he’d done since she’d arrived at the apartments was to snarl and growl at a now shaking, timid witch.

“Moldover?” one of his team members began, clearly preparing to call him out if his judgment became questionable. “Never mind,” he immediately amended, running a frustrated hand through his hair, loosening it from his pony tail.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian bit off to the witch, who refused to meet his eye. If there was one better, Oliver would have already had them on retainer. His partner didn’t accept second best, and burning bridges with this one would cost them all in the long run.

When—not if—he got Ravyn back, he would kiss her senseless, but not before spanking her for putting herself and his nephew in danger.

“How far out is Delta?” Bash had requested that particular witch’s presence as soon as he recognized that Ravyn and Toby were gone. Something in his gut told him she would be needed, and even it was a false call, he would rather be safe than sorry. However, it was looking more and more like the situation was as dire as he feared.

Unfortunately, Oliver’s helicopter was still here on the west coast, remaining at Ravyn’s disposal. Dispatching one local to Delta took time; money could smooth the path, but it still took time. Time that wasn’t on their side, Bash feared.

“En route. About three hours out. We’ve secured landing about twenty minutes from our current location.” The same guard once again spoke up while the others remained silent, looking out into the perimeter they’d established.

Breathing slowly in and out, he released his hair before smoothing it back into place, replacing the band holding it up, as his mind clicked through what they knew and didn’t know. Two of the team members who had accompanied Ravyn had been trapped outside, held into place by a spell that the witch had easily broken. That spell was just meant to trap and slow down entry, nothing permanent like the wards. Their minds were muddled and after questioning them extensively, Bash couldn’t even confirm from them that Ravyn had gone inside.

The entire setup could be a false trail designed to occupy them while the producer or whoever he was took Ravyn to a different location. Occasionally, the landscape past the magical barrier would flicker in and out of focus, leading the group to acknowledge that whatever they were seeing wasn’t real time or could be a complete facade. They’d lost contact with the driver as well, but with the magical illusion he could be standing on the other side of the gate and they might not see him.

And Toby. Toby surely was still with her; Bash couldn’t bring himself to think about the alternative. If something happened to the boy, Sebastian didn’t know if his sister-in-law would recover. Only Tobias and his siblings had given her the strength to continue when her mate, his brother, was killed. The time Bash hadn’t been there, his mind filled in.

Focus. He needed to focus on the next step: bringing them home.

A background check had been run on this Bertrando Roland and what had come back so far was absolutely nothing of interest or unexpected. Not even a parking ticket, which actually sent up major red flags to the group. No one had no history, or at least such a shiny history, especially in the movie industry. Only child, parents dead, inherited money, and major success in the movie industry, as in doubling or tripling the money his parents left him. Every film was a success; everyone who worked for him said the same thing. Genius, high standards, a joy to work with. Again, this level of perfection was impossible. Someone had to hate the man or at least dislike him a little bit.

Oliver’s side of the business had people continuing to work on it. Bash had demanded they look into Roland’s primary school records, discover where his parents had made their money. Everything. He wanted to know everything about this man.

“Incoming!” one of his shifters shot off, and half the team turned their focus toward the edge of the forest while the other half began scanning for other potential unknowns. Two still in wolf form trotted to the front of their group, ears perked and hair rising on the back of their necks, while the others in black-and-gray fatigues raised unnecessary weapons to their shoulders. If a human approached, they would see a group of mercenaries in training with large dogs, and if the threat were supernatural, the team could be fighting tooth and claw in a matter of seconds.

A man, a youth really, perhaps a bit older than Toby upon closer examination, stepped cautiously out of the shadows, hands raised slightly above his head, a walking stick in one, green and black paint blended over his face as well as spots on his hands. His shoulder-length black hair was held down by a leather strap tied around his head; his eyes, nearly as black as his hair, peered out from the face paint.

“Easy there,” the stranger intoned lowly at the group. As he stepped into the roadway, the group could see he was dressed similarly to them except his clothes lacked the crispness of the team’s. His black cargo pants were streaked with clay and mud, speaking of hours or even days in the woods. While his long-sleeved black tee fit snuggly against his chest and arms, hinting at an unseen strength, it was covered with the same dirt and debris. Brown leather straps wrapped around his shoulders, but the pack wasn’t large enough to be seen from the front. The small bag, together with his appearance, made the man seem to be simply a lost day hiker.

Sebastian subtly sniffed the air, trying to catch the man’s scent. Strangely, there was no hint of sweat, fear, or body odor clinging to him despite his disheveled appearance. The man looked expectantly at Bash, despite the fact that one of his team members had already begun his spiel.

“Sir, we must ask you to leave this area. Our team is conducting training exercises that the State of California have approved and we have the necessary paperwork on file in the case of...”

The tawny man ignored the cover story, studying Bash as if making a decision. Slowly lowering his hands, he held the walking stick loosely at his side with a wide stance that had Bash deciding his instincts were right: this man wasn’t simply a tourist or even a local out for a hike. Despite his casual stance and the fact that he looked barely older than Toby, he held himself at the ready, his eyes frozen on Bash’s but still appearing to take in the entire group at the same time.

“Sir, are you lost? Do you need assistance, sir? If not, we ask that you leave this training area immediately.”

Gripping the walking staff lightly between his forefinger and thumb, the youth opened the remainder of his palm in an outwardly friendly greeting followed up with a slow, almost respectful nod. “Greetings, Sebastian Moldover and shifters.” Pausing, he waited for that revelation to sink in, keeping his stance loose and open while glancing among all the men before settling back on Bash. “I am Kai. I do believe we have an enemy in common.”

The men holding weapons shifted uneasily, casting quick glances to each other before Sebastian told them, “Stand down.”

His instincts were screaming that this unassuming man was friendly and his wolf bounced around, downright giddy to see him. Strange. “Kai…” He nodded in a not quite formal greeting, but still holding to the old ways, he asked, “Might I ask how you know my name?”

The man shifted from foot to foot, which was when Sebastian noticed he was actually barefoot as well. Odd. Not for a wolf, of course, but for a human, definitely. He held himself with the confidence of an older man although with the face camouflage it was difficult to ascertain for sure if he was as young as he’d first appeared. With a small grin, his white teeth flashed as he spoke. “You all aren’t quite as quiet as you think.” He pointed to and correctly rattled off the names of each of the team members, who looked at each other uneasily once again. This youth was clearly more then he appeared.

“Hold,” Bash ordered, reminding the group that despite how it appeared, they weren’t amateurs.

Leaning a bit to the side, the stranger pointed toward the witch, who now stood fully behind one of his men. “Apologies, ma’am. I didn’t catch yours, but I’m assuming ‘Witch’ is a title, not a name.”

A cocky grin with yet another short nod had Bash ready to jump on top of the man to thrash him in frustration, but his wolf’s giddy excitement held him short. The wolf appeared to recognize the man or at the very least was ready to make his acquaintance far more exuberantly than human manners dictated.

“So, Kai,” he drawled out, hoping he sounded much more relaxed than he felt, “might I ask what you’re doing way out here?”

Kai shrugged and then pointed out, “Well, Sebastian…” He hesitated and appeared to consider before a slow nod. “Or do you prefer Wolf? And I could ask you the same.”

Bash mentally snapped at his wolf as it preened under the boy's acknowledgment. “It seems you would like to appear as if you just know everything.”

“I’m getting the feeling I know more than you,” Kai admitted without preamble. “And as for what I’m doing here”—he spread his arms out wide in guiltlessness—“I was here long before you. Your men stumbling about and shouting orders is what woke me from my nap. Right over there.” He pointed over his shoulder into the foliage, raising an eyebrow when one of the wolves trotted into the forest to check on the story.

Silence settled upon them until the wolf, now a man, walked back out of the forest naked, carrying a sheathed knife in his hand. “Bash, he’s got a site right off the path, hidden, but a nice hidey hold. We’ve been walking right past him for hours. Had this in there.” Handing the still sheathed blade to Bash, he effortlessly transformed back into a large gray wolf, sitting back on his haunches, awaiting his next order.

Bash examined the outside of the old leather sheath, turning it back and forth in his hands. Unassuming, battered and beat up, the leather nearly black in its creases, it spoke of years of use. The handle, perhaps bone, matched its sheath in age and use. The groves worn into it fit perfectly in the flat of his hand and his fingers wrapped around it as if it had been made for his palm. A tremor ran through him, as if the knife spoke to him, calling out to him to release it. Refraining from pulling the knife from its holder, he grudgingly loosened his grip. He’d been around witches and their athames just enough to know that despite how a blade called to you, it was never safe to pull someone else’s. The magic kickback alone could kill you and that was before even knowing anything else about it.

Reluctantly, he flipped the sheathed long blade, offering it to Kai to handle first. Placing his walking stick on his back, Kai took the few steps toward him and accepted the handle with yet another nod. “I thank you for not releasing it.”

“A piece like that deserves respect,” Bash answered gruffly, feeling an odd sense of loss. Despite the fact that he’d held the knife for less than two minutes it had felt right in his hand; comfortable, like it was home.

“Did it speak to you?” Once again the head tilt as he watched Bash, awaiting his answer.

“I felt… I felt… something,”

This time, the nod wasn’t questioning, but pleased. “It’s the athame of my people. Forged together by my ancestors… and yours, the sons of Fenrir.” Continuing as if he hadn’t insinuated an impossible connection between them, Kai explained, “It’s used in the hunt and the protection of mankind. It calls for blood when it leaves its sheath.” Carefully, he unwrapped the leather strap holding the blade in place, then smoothly slid the knife from its holder. The other wolves trembled as a small shockwave moved them. Bash found it almost impossible to stay upright in the split second the magic hit. He was unable to take his eyes off the bone blade that twinkled for a moment before smoothing out and reshaping into a sleek silver blade.

Silver. A death sentence to any of his kind, yet it had an unimaginable siren call to it that whistled through the air.

“It won’t harm you,” Kai assured him. He looked around the rest of the group, who stood frozen, watching the beautiful, shimmering blade settle back into aged white bone once again. Unlike the sheath and handle, the blade had writing etched along its entirety from top to bottom, the tiny drawings meticulous and unreadable by Bash.

Kai turned it over in his hand. “Vanadium steel and silver. It’s been spelled by the ancestors to only harm evil and can be wielded by my people as well as yours. It was meant to be used in battle by one such as yourself, but the years haven’t been kind to its legacy.”

“Wait, hold up. Kai, was it? I’ve never heard of a silver knife that a wolf could hold.” The disappointment that Bash felt battled with the simple beauty of the knife that called to him. Glancing around, he continued, “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you here alone or is your dad or someone around? If this blade is what you say it is, it seems a bit odd that you’re out here hanging around waiting for a wolf to show up so you can pull it on them.”

Dismay crossed Kai’s stoic face as he slid the knife back into its sheath, carefully rewrapping the leather holding it in place. “I haven’t exactly been waiting around for you and I wouldn’t expect you to understand this, but your people and my people have had an understanding for years. Only… well, only they’ve died off. Died off or been killed,” he amended.

“What does that even mean? You work with other shifters? Other wolves? Where are they?”

Impatiently, Kai pushed back. “I just told you. Dead.” Looking toward the heavens, he took a deep breath, re-centering himself before looking back at Bash. “I’m making a mess of this and we don’t have time for that.”

“Well, we can agree on that,” Bash huffed out, crossing his arms across his chest. Ravyn needed him and they were wasting time with this interloper. “Although it appears to me you have all the time in the world, camping out here and all.”

“A long time ago—think ancient times—my people and yours teamed up to fight an unspeakable evil that haunted the land. We hadn’t always gotten along and some say that the gods unleashed this evil to force us to work together. Not that it really matters when or why, but we did. For years and years, my tribe and the wolves in the area had an agreement. The strongest wolf of the pack would wield the knife and the strongest of my tribe would wield the magic.”

Bash snorted. “Your gods played a joke on you, then. I’m no Alpha and if you’re the strongest of your tribe, then, well…”

Kai interrupted and for the first time, he sounded angry. “First, I’m the strongest of my tribe, because I’m the only one left. The last one. The rest are gone. And second, you big idiot, I didn’t say the Alpha, I said the strongest. The two don’t necessarily go hand in hand as much as you all try to convince yourselves of that. And I assure you if the gods had said the smartest, then it wouldn’t be you. Besides, have you noticed a lot of options around these parts? There isn’t a wolf pack for miles and miles. Their natural population was pretty much decimated within the state. The knife calls to you, you’ve already said that much. And if the knife says it’s you, then it’s you.” He begrudgingly added the last bit, as if it pained him to admit it and would have preferred a better choice. “Excuse my impatience, but we’re running out of time.”

Bash opened and closed his mouth. His father had once said if a wolf kept quiet, folks might assume him a fool, but if he opened his mouth, he might prove to be one. This seemed just like one of those moments. He gestured to continue with his hands, keeping his mouth closed.

Kai closed his eyes briefly, as if once again centering himself. “The evil that we fight has been here for centuries, picking off my people. I’ve only heard tales of the time when we worked together with the wolves. Whenever that alliance was broken or killed off was well before my time. My father never met a wolf. My grandfather spoke of the last wolf when he was a boy. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even have believed. I’ve been hiding and watching that thing in there but without a wolf, I’m as good as useless against it, but still I...” Unable to articulate the words, the young man’s voice drifted off.

But Bash understood that their numbers dwindled among the supernatural. Still duty called. Duty above all else. And the boy’s duty was to watch, but watch what? Fenrir! Panic filled Bash. Was this boy a vampire hunter? If he expected Bash to blindly pick up a blade against Ravyn or any vampire, for that matter, he was sorely mistaken. Was he willing to kill a boy brave enough to stand against wolf shifters?

“What do you fight against?” he asked the boy, emphasizing the “you,” refusing to put himself in a category with him.

“Wendigo. We battle for humanity against the demon wendigo spirit. I’ve been taught the magic to subdue and trap the spirit, but I need another to wield the knife.”

His words settled over the wolves, and they broke rank as they murmured among themselves. Instinctively making the sign against evil, Bash surmised by their tone that he wasn’t the only one. Wendigo! An unstoppable, insatiable killing machine. Humans feared the boogie man or the slender man, but pups were raised knowing that they wouldn’t even hear the deadly wendigo going bump in the night. Deadly hunters and tricksters without a weakness, they could lure one out by sounding like a loved one and they would be dead at the same moment they discovered the trick.

Looking at Bash expectantly before he continued, Kai said, “And I feel like you might have a more personal reason if the vampires and young wolf who entered the compound a few hours ago are any indicator.”

Sebastian perked up at his words. “You saw them enter? Why didn’t you stop them? Are they still here?” His words shot out, peppering the youth before he could respond. If he had the ability to do something, why hadn’t he?

Nodding his dark head, Kai waited a breath before holding up a hand. “Once they get this close to the gate, it’s too late to stop them. The magic protecting this place has grown and evolved over the last few years. It’s strong and I’m alone. I stop those I can, but my greatest weapon these last few years has been that the beast doesn’t know I exist. As far as it’s concerned, my line has died out, and along with that any threat to it.”

“Whose skin does it wear?” All signs pointed to this Roland fellow, but he could just be a pawn to the demon.

“It goes by the name Bertrando Roland these days.” Kai spat after the words left him. “He likes to pretend he’s from Europe or something. Since Dad died, all I can do is try to head off those he brings here before they get here, and I watch. It feels so secure here—invincible, in fact—it has settled here for years.”