Red and Her Wolf Page 6

A trail of blood, black as night, saturated the carpets. Bloody handprints dotted the walls, as if someone had dragged themselves along.

  Ewan jogged, it didn’t take him long before he saw her. He wanted to savor the moment, the first time in years he’d seen her, was within reaching distance of his mate, but he couldn’t. Her lips were blue, her skin lily white.

  The blonde hair he’d remembered that curled so effortlessly around her face, now hung limp and crusted with blood. Her hand rested on her breast, not a muscle moved, her chest did not rise, and Ewan’s heart slid to his feet. Suddenly he felt too heavy for his body, but somehow he was able to make his way to her.

  A macabre vision of loveliness formed in his eyes. Finally able to give into his weakness, he dropped to his knees, not knowing where to touch her. A strange sound kept flitting in his ear, an annoying moan he couldn’t place.

  Gingerly, not wanting to further injure her, he hefted her slight weight into his arms. The moan grew louder, then voices sifted through his consciousness, but they were distorted--filtered through a long tunnel, low and hard to understand.

  His hand was so dark against her pale, lovely face. Her neck was tilted at an odd angle, blonde hair rained down around her shoulders. The moaning grew louder, like the buzz of an angry wasp’s nest disturbed. He traced the curve of her sharp cheekbone, gently, reverently. Following the line to her nose, so straight and perfect, her heart shaped jaw. Small, beautiful ears. She had freckles. He’d never known that. Flattening his fingertips against her neck he waited.

  There was no pulse.

  Blue lips did not part to utter protest at her lover’s caress. She still looked as young and as angelic as he’d remembered, she’d aged not at all. Youth personified was his mate. Slowly, with measured ease, he slid his hand down the front of her still, cold body. Where was the wound? What had wrecked such devastation upon her? He smelled wolf, the stench of it lay thick in his nostrils--the musk of woods and upturned leaves, of bloody meat, and fatty marrow.

  His hands slipped beneath her shirt. Maybe there was still time. Maybe the fairies could still heal her. Then his fingers found thick groves torn within her flesh, deep into the muscle. A sickening suction pulled at his digit and he shuddered, fire burned his throat. The sound cascaded all around him; the low moan was now an eruption of pain.

  His chest heaved, his eyes swelled, and then he howled, pulling her beloved face into his chest. Crying out to the night; pain pouring out through his song.

  Hands clasped onto his shoulders. Small ones, they squeezed. “Ewan,” Danika began.

  He hissed, jerking out of her reach, rushing to his feet; holding the lifeless body to his chest, as if he could somehow force his life’s essence into her.

  “Ye did this!” He snarled, the wild in him coming to the forefront, obscuring his reason or sanity. Only knowing the pain consumed and burned and he needed to release it or risk dying from the agony of his shattered soul.

  Human size again, her eyes were huge, filled with sadness and unshed tears. “We must leave here, Ewan. There is dark magic about, the crows have surely reported to their mistress.”

  “I will not leave her.” His words were vicious, sharper than a sword.

  Miriam stood in front of Danika, almost as if shielding her.

  “Move away, Shunned,” he warned.

  “Hear me, Ewan of the clan Black Foot,” her words trembled with a surge of raw power, it crackled through the air like a heavy ball of static. “She is nay dead, though she may appear it.”

  Ewan wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Afraid to breath, to believe, for fear it would turn out to be nothing more than a cruel joke, he whispered, “what do ye mean, nay dead?”

  His tongue felt thick in his mouth; his throat in parched agony. Adrenaline flooded his brain, made him shake as his fingers dug into Violet’s still chest, praying with all his soul the fairy spoke true.

  Miriam looked around as shadows danced in her eyes; a pulse darted in her throat. She was nervous, she reeked of it. “We’ve been found a few weeks ago now. I’ve been killing the wolves and dumping their carcasses far from our home, hoping to keep the lass in the dark at least until I could arrange our departure.” She closed her eyes, wringing her hands. “I’d thought I’d been so clever, keeping it from her. But she must have found out. She must have found one. She took him on, very nearly died. I’ve had to place her in a Sleeping Beauty spell. She is locked, frozen in time. In order for her to survive, we must return to Kingdom this night.”

  He swallowed the bile that’d lodged tight in his throat. She was asleep. Hands shaking violently, he brought her face to his, kissing her lips softly. Knowing the kiss would not wake her, this wasn’t a fairy tale after all, but hope bloomed deep in his soul. She was alive, still here. He did not care if she hated him now, she wouldn’t later. Ewan would show her the depths of his love, his devotion, and passion. Together they’d overcome Malvena. The madness of losing her faded slowly away. This he could deal with.

  “The Ten will know if we sail into Kingdom, Mir, you told me that before. Remember? How can we sneak in?” Danika’s words were rushed, full of fear.

  Miriam smiled and hugged her friend softly. “Ssh, now. It matters not.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Ewan rubbed Violet’s back, reveling in his ability to touch her again. Hold her. He’d never let go, never again.

  “I’ve been busy while I’ve been away, Dani.” Miriam’s old face and countenance transformed suddenly, she appeared younger now, and more spry as her hands flitted about wildly. “I’ve set up an underground network of spies and allies, they will usher us safely toward Malvena’s keep.” Miriam glanced at Ewan, the strange lavender eyes keen and sharp as she said, “we must split up. We cannot travel together. Dani and I will take one path, you with Violet…” she nodded, and reaching into her skirt pocket, extracted a rolled parchment, “will take another.”

  He grabbed the tan roll from her hand, knowing it to be a map of some sort. Glancing at it quickly, he looked back at her.

  “Read it, learn it, then burn it.” Her gaze bored into his, hot and demanding. “If anyone discovers this trail, we’re ruined.”

  Danika licked her lips and Ewan’s pulse thumped.

  “We’ve one chance, Wolf. One, to right the wrongs of a night long ago. Can I trust ye to keep her safe?”

  His nostrils flared, anger burned through his veins like a shot of poison. “None will harm her, I vow it.”

  She exhaled; her small shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. Good.” Miriam grabbed Danika by the elbow, leading her away. “The moment the lass passes through into Kingdom, Sleeping Beauty’s spell will dissolve. Do not contact us for any reason, the map will lead ye. Stay to the course. I’ve got a tracker on Violet, but it’s not always reliable. Do yer best.” She shook her head. “Goddess be with ye, Wolf.”

  Her words still quivered with worry. Ewan frowned. “I’ll guard her with my life, Shunned.”

  Miriam’s mouth turned down. “Be wary of her, Ewan, she is not what you think.” With those cryptic words, she walked away.

  Danika hung back. She looked the same aged sprite he remembered, slightly pudgy, face filled with a goodly light, but there was tension now where there didn’t used to be. Perhaps she had tried to do best by him, but the wound was still too fresh, too raw to forgive and forget.

  She nodded, as if she understood his thoughts. “I’ll open a portal for you both, it won’t last long. I smell the wolves all around us. Jinni,” she looked at the silent, nearly translucent ghost of a man. Dark eyes burned with some unnamed emotion. “You are not to accompany us. You must stay here in Alaska, go due north. Several miles out, there’ll be a flat clearing with a star in it. Wait there.”

  The ghostly jaw worked from side to side. “How long?”

  “Until it’s time.” Inhaling sharply, she nodded, and left.

  Ewan had seconds. He turned to look at his friend, the only one of the
bad 5 who’d ever treated him with an ounce of friendship. He held out his hand. “May the sun shine upon you, my friend.”

  Morose eyes stared back at him. A cold shiver passed through him when Jinni’s hand phased through his own. Goose pimples rode the length of forearm. “And you, Wolf.”

  With a nod, Ewan ran from the demons creeping closely on their heels.

  Chapter 5

  Ewan stood within the safe embrace of the spiraling tunnel, scanning unfamiliar surroundings. Night sang all around him, the whistle and whisper of the wind telling its secrets on the gentle breeze. Cicadas hummed, the bejeweled sky glinted so bright as to seem a sort of twilight.

  Ewan hefted Violet higher in his arms, cradling her limp head against the firm beat of his heart, willing her to open her eyes. They hadn’t yet crossed the threshold into Kingdom, his heart thumped hard at the thought of finally getting to introduce himself; know her, have her know him. Cursing his clumsy human form, he scented the impossible stretch of dun colored sand dunes, trying in vain to detect friend from foe. He’d committed Miriam’s map to heart, surprised at the many stops they were to make before reaching Malvena’s keep, he’d had no flint to burn the scroll with, so he’d dropped it somewhere within the channel of light that’d transported them here.

  Twin planets, glowing a hazy bluish-lavender, filled half the sky. Kingdom was massive, beyond imagining. Ewan had never left the comfort and safety of the western borders; this was eastern lands, Jinni’s territory. He could have used the ghost now, though Jinni would likely have thought Miriam crazy for bringing them here.

  In the distance, beyond rolling hills, lights flickered and danced. That was the first of many stops for them. Gathering his courage close and Violet closer, he kissed her cold brow and stepped beyond the threshold.

  Pulse rushing through his ears, drowning out all other noise, he watched and waited for the first flickering of the spell to dissolve. The breeze caught a streamer of blond hair, wrapping it like a coil around his wrist. He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he waited; a buzzing noise forced him to glance up. The green iridescent body of a large scarab beetle sailed past his periphery.

  There was no time to waste, outside, they were exposed, his feet took them where his mind dreaded to go. Sand caught between his toes, rubbing them raw the farther he walked. The lights that’d seemed so close before, mocked him, seeming to move further and further away the more he walked. One hour slipped by, then one more. Soon, he’d lost track of time completely.

  In a trance like state of shuffle, step, shuffle. Sweat and sand irritated his skin, made him growl and burn from the constant friction. But he couldn’t stop; they had to get to safety.

  The planets cast long shadows, almost obscuring the moon’s glow. T’was hard to know precisely how much time had passed, but his muscles ached. This would be so much easier in wolf form. This land was nothing but an endless sea of sand. Why hadn’t the fairy dropped them off within the village?

  Eventually, even his thoughts ceased, caught up in just getting there.

  Biceps and thighs trembling, he climbed the long hills. Up and down, down and up, one after another, landscape never shifting or offering surcease. A brutal test of his endurance, alone he could climb hill after hill, but holding onto dead weight while doing it in his weaker human form, coated him in a thick sheen of sweat. Hair clung to the back of his neck, wet and uncomfortable.

  The abrasive sand rubbed his feet raw, a suspicious wetness gathered on his heels.

  “Red,” he whispered, lungs heaving for relief from the humid night, “wake, my love. We’re in Kingdom.”

  She did not respond, but he would not lose hope, because now her lips no longer resembled a permafrost blue, but the rosy pink of health. The spell had begun to lift.

  “Ye are so lovely, Vi,” he inhaled, “and I ken ye have nay knowledge of me, but I promise ye this… none will ever hurt ye again.”

  Preserving the remnants of his energy, he stopped talking or thinking about anything other than the beckoning flames. Ewan urged his shaking legs to top the crest of yet another hill and this time, the lights were there. Not twenty yards ahead. The village moved with life, people moved in and out of houses shambling around in random patterns.

  Smiling grimly, he stopped, taking a moment to rest and study the quaint mud brick village. The night so well lit, he could make out the beige hue of the bricks spiraling up like coral from a seabed. A massive gate and walls surrounded the city; he’d have to figure out a way in without alerting any to their presence. He did not know this land, nor whom to trust. He wasn’t even certain he could trust the spy Miriam led them to.

  A graveyard was their assignation point. Ewan did not know who the spy was, but it filled him with dread knowing where he was to find the individual. Few dared to dwell within dead man’s land, and those that did, were never friendly.

  A gaggle of drunken men stumbled out from an oblong door, small children dressed in cream toned clothes raced between homes kicking a ball. But no matter where he looked, he could not find any sign of the graveyard.

  Then a chatter of discordant voices reached his ears, men carrying torches suddenly filled the dirt streets. He narrowed his eyes, instinct telling him to crouch.

  Guards were kicking in doors, cries of alarm rang out as women were yanked roughly from their homes and thrown to the ground. Children screamed and cried, running to their mothers even as the guards kicked them, demanding to know where the Heartsong was.

  Ewan sucked in a sharp breath when a movement from one of the guards exposed a glint of gold around his neck. Malvena’s spies. Here. Already? Danika had worried they’d know, but he’d felt no disturbance in the air, no shifting of the land.

  “Bloody hell,” he snarled.

  His nostrils flared as he looked about wildly for a cave, a hole, anything to hide them in.

  A low growl seeped from his belly, where was the bloody grave? He closed his eyes, trying to remember the map. The image of the village sprang up in his mind and behind it, outside the gates, a small x.

  Ewan licked his lips, and glanced over his shoulder. He’d have to go back down the hill, travel horizontally, and hopefully would be able to avoid any eyes that might be on the lookout for his mate. As he was deciding this, a soft whimper made him jerk. Glancing down at his mate’s face, he caressed her blood encrusted hair.

  “Be easy, Red.” He hungered to kiss her, taste her, mark her and make her his finally… soon, once they were safe.

  It took several more hours; Jinni had always said the nights were blessedly long, and Ewan was thankful the shadows kept their secret. His neck prickled, as if eyes watched, burning a hole through him.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed a bright green jewel walking slowly toward him, then another, and another. He cocked his head when he realized they weren’t jewels at all, but beetles. He’d stumbled onto a nest. Not odd in the desert. Shaking his head, he shoved them from his mind.

  The scent of jasmine grew redolent; a gentle breeze caressed his sand encrusted body. But he couldn’t allow himself to relax, the clang of steel and cries of the dying was a melancholy song. Goddess help them, he could only hope Miriam’s ally would give them shelter.

  But the further he walked; the sweet scent gave way to a musty odor, sickly and putrid. Violet moaned, and ignoring the spasming ache in his arms, he nuzzled her soft cheek. “We’re almost there, Red. Calm yerself.”

  Curling his nose, Ewan resisted the urge to vomit. The smells were ghastly, rotten and thick, clinging to his nostrils, forcing his eyes to water as he tried desperately to ignore the sneeze filling his throat.

  The moment he stepped around the dune he saw the graveyard and the thick gray fog that shaded its perimeter in gloom. The smell was stronger, noxious. Like meat that’d set out in the baking sun for days, festering and boiling over with maggots.

  “Bloody fairy,” he spat, knowing now who the ally was. Glancing at Violet’s twisted face, he
worked his jaw from side to side. She was covered in blood, a beacon to this monster.

  While he studied her, he did not notice the amorphous black fog coiling around his ankles until it yanked him off his feet, the ground tore into his nude flesh, scraping him raw. Grunting, he was able to still cling to Violet’s body.

  “Sssoo much blood,” the sibilant voice rang with greed and perverted joy.

  Then a hot tongue, tough as a cat’s, licked the soles of his feet. Ewan kicked at the oily claw wrapped around his ankles, but it was useless. He thrashed even as a demonic mask coalesced within the inky vapor.

  “It’s been sssoo long. Sssoo hungry.”

  Blood pounding, Ewan twisted away from the fanged teeth. Horns sprouted from the face and jaw, a curved bony protuberance latched onto Violet. Scrabbling for purchase, his hold on her precarious, Ewan grasped a crooked gravestone and grit his teeth against the sensation of his legs moments away from being torn off him.