Wolves’ Bane (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Burning Times

If Lance guessed that I was in a bad mood, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he had me drilling all of the moves that he’d taught me the day before. I was amazed by how efficiently my body worked, forcing my attention away from my heartbreak while I moved through the various submission techniques I had learned.

When he handed me a sword, and I felt the strangely familiar weight resting in my palm, I knew true power. He showed me a few moves, strikes that would yield the deadliest results and then left me to explore the momentum on my own. His occasional shots of “yeah” and “that’s right” spurred me on.

I liked the odd sensation of knowing the weapons, my mind already aware of technique, stance and strikes thanks to the bond. Presumably, what Cal had said was true—whatever he had trained with, I had gained intimate knowledge of. It allowed me to move and learn quickly.

But it wasn’t until Lance handed me the twin swords that he called the
sai
that I truly felt as though I’d found the weapon for me. They rested in my palms like they were meant to be there, balanced perfectly for me to thrust and block without losing my momentum. I gripped the handles, one in each hand, my thumb at the juncture where the handle met the middle blade. My comfort level with the weapon had me trying all kinds of different techniques. I liked twisting it in one expert move from the upright attack position to the downward guarding position, where the blades extended along my forearms and allowed me to block incoming blows.

“That’s so odd,” Lance mused as he lowered the sword he was wielding.

He had been increasing the speed and strength of his strikes and jabs, no longer holding back when he came at me. I had successfully blocked him for the past twenty minutes, the last time trapping his sword with the
yoku—
one of the two prong-like extensions of the
sai.
My instinct had been to twist, somewhere deep in my brain recognizing that doing that would snap his blade, but I released him at the last minute with a smile. “What’s odd? That I’m so kick-ass good with these things?”

His brow was furrowed and he shrugged. “Yeah, actually, that is what is odd.”

He moved to the towel rack and yanked a clean one down. He wiped his forehead with his free hand while he eyed the sword in his other hand. “You’re making me feel like an amateur.” He tossed the towel in the laundry basket and raised his sword to me again. “This is
my
weapon. It’s what I train with all the time. I want my Huntress, if I ever find her, to be comfortable with a sword.”

I shrugged as I transferred both weapons to one hand then snagged a bottle of water from the small fridge in the corner. “So, maybe I’m just
that
good.”

“Yeah, well, what’s odd is that Cal didn’t really train that hard with those things.” He moved over and grabbed one of the
sai
from my hands, rotating it in his palm. “The legacy says that the Huntress takes on whatever powers and skills the Hunter has trained in and perfected. Clearly, you’ve gained Cal’s expertise in other areas—like fighting and grappling. But this doesn’t fit.” He handed the blade back to me with a shrug. “The only thing Cal likes using these things for is throwing. He can hit a target twenty, sometimes thirty feet away—good eye, deadly accurate. But he never found much use for them outside of that.”

I felt the weight of our separation more at the mention of Cal’s name. “Well.” I sighed, forcing my unwanted feelings back. “That’s not the only thing we don’t agree on.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow, then reached past me to grab his own bottle of water. “Paradise isn’t everything it seems?” he asked as he twisted the cap off and took a swig.

I shook my head and laid the
sai
down in their case. “I didn’t expect paradise, but I did expect more from my Hunter.”

Lance followed me as I made my way to the bench and sat. He took a seat on the matted floor and continued drinking his water.

“Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t change anything anyway, so what’s the use?”

Lance’s eyebrows rose again. “Okay, suit yourself.” He lowered the bottle to the floor and leaned back on his elbows, stretching out in front of me like a big cat. He nodded toward the door. “Maybe we could go outside to do some target practice. I’d be curious to see if you’ve taken on Cal’s skill for throwing those things.”

I nodded, pushing all thoughts of Cal away as I reflected back on something Lance had said earlier. “So, this legacy situation, I was told that information would come to me in spurts. I know about the history, Alkaia and her Hunter, but I haven’t gotten the rest.”

Lance pushed himself up to sit. “What do you want to know?”

I motioned to his arm, his bare arm. “Okay, where’s your tattoo?”

Lance chuckled and lifted the sleeve of his shirt to expose his right bicep. It was decorated with a large black tattoo of a wolf, its head rearing, teeth exposed as if it was growling. Its massive body was curled around the bulge of his arm. “We don’t all get it in the same place.”

That made sense. I had gotten glimpses of tattoos poking from underneath collars on some of the other men. Then there were some who had nothing to show at all.

“So, who gives it to you?”

Lance lowered his sleeve. “No one gives it to us, exactly. It’s part of being chosen. When a boy with the Hunter gene is exposed to a werewolf in some shape or form, his mark appears somewhere on his body. It’s always a wolf, usually in different poses, and it can be anywhere—and I mean anywhere—on his body.” He waggled his eyebrows at his last words which had me snickering. “Seriously, there’s a Hunter who—”

I raised my hand for him to stop, my cheeks suddenly growing warm. “I don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough.” Lance took another gulp of his water and wiped his arm across his forehead.

“And what about Candy? Didn’t her family think it was weird that you guys came and snatched her up?”

Lance’s lips curled in a smile. “When we found Candy, her parents were waiting for us. They had hoped that one of their daughters would be a chosen one, a Huntress. They had been expecting us, or at least waiting for us for a while. It isn’t often. In fact, this is the first time in recent history, but sometimes we find one of the old families, the ones who have passed on the legacy, the folklore through generations. Candy’s family knew all about the Hunters—they’d prepared all three of their daughters for it. Candy was the youngest but when we found her, when Jeremy claimed her, she came along willingly. Like everything Candy does, she was more pumped to get down to training than Jer was.” Lance chuckled at the memory.

“Yeah, Candy is a bit bubbly.” I took a sip of my own water. “But why do you have to search for the old families, for the Huntresses? Wouldn’t it make sense to keep the girls close?”

Lance nodded, his face clouding with seriousness, losing all evidence of his usual easy grin. “Yeah, well, they used to be. Cal told you about Alkaia, so you know about the beginning, how it all started. Alkaia and her Hunter had five girls, all destined to become Huntresses. Their Hunters came from different parts of the world, drawn to them, seeking them out with their tattoos. It was more primitive then—they trusted their instinct. The Hunters came and they bonded, and then they fought the beasts. So generation after generation was born into Alkaia’s family, and it grew and grew. All of the Huntresses came from her line, all of the Hunters traveled from outside of it.”

My eyes grew wide. “So what? I’m a descendant of Alkaia?”

Lance nodded. “Yep. Somewhere in your genes is a marker that connects you to her.”

I shook my head slowly. “My mom, she used to tell me these horrible stories about beasts and this woman warrior. Used to scare the crap out of me as a kid. She must have known about the legacy. I just don’t get why she never told me anything to prepare me for it.”

Lance cringed. “We’ve heard that kind of thing over the years. Families protecting their girls. Girls who end up dying at the fangs of Lazarus and his pack because of ignorance.” He sighed. “It’s not their fault. You ever hear about a period known as the Burning Times?”

I frowned. “What like witch burning?”

Lance nodded. “Yep, that’s right, witch burning. The scholars, they’re Hunters whose Huntresses have died, fell in with the thinking of the times. Stupid old men, who are all dead now, felt that women were the source of a lot of our problems when it came to killing King Lazarus. He was too good at being elusive. The scholars were too ignorant to realize or acknowledge that it was the Huntress who held the true power—that only she could kill the beast. In their blindness, they handed many Huntresses over to the witch hunters to be tortured and killed, not realizing that they were condemning themselves in the process. By the time they figured it out, it was too late. Our Huntress numbers were decimated and the remaining Hunters were useless. The families that had consistently bred Huntress females had scattered, fearful of losing their daughters to the madness of these scholars. It was an ignorant time for all but a deadly time for us. Because of their stupidity, we lost the upper hand. Lazarus increased his numbers exponentially, and now we need to kill him to regain the advantage. What’s worse than anything, though, is that somehow he figured out a way to find our Huntresses before we do.” He ran his hand through his hair, yanking out the tie that bound it back, and sighed. “The only ones he has spared over the years have been those marked as his bride.”

“Like me.”

Lance shrugged. “Maybe.”

I frowned. “He told me I was his bride and I think Cal believes that it’s true. And Jimmy said the same thing to me when he was dragging me into the woods.”

Lance shifted his eyes to the floor and shrugged again. “We won’t know for sure until the lunar eclipse, but yeah, all the signs seem to point to you being Lazarus’s bride.”

“So if there’ve been others like me, other brides, they’re dead, right? What happened?”

Lance’s eyes clouded over and he shifted his gaze to look toward the door. “Yeah, they’re dead. They faced off with Lazarus and died. All of them.”

I gulped down the lump that rested in my throat. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?” I whispered.

Lance swiveled his gaze back to me. “No, not if I have anything to do with it.” He pushed himself up and held his hand out to me. “Let’s go outside and try some throwing. I wanna see if your aim is as good as your movements.”

I hesitated. “Are you sure it’s safe out there?”

Lance snickered. “Oh yeah, with the amount of magic Cal embedded on the border, nothing is getting in.”

I grabbed Lance’s hand. “Where does Kelly come into all of this?”

Lance glanced over at me, studying my hand in his for a second before suddenly releasing it. “Kelly?” The frown that momentarily etched his face dissolved into a smile. “Kelly is our shining star. Up until we found her, the scholars relied solely on these old magical texts. They study and decode them constantly. These old books write themselves, add text every few years, all written in this crazy ancient, dead language. I’ve never actually seen one—they’re pretty heavily guarded. The texts give clues to where the Huntresses will be found. Lazarus can apparently find our Huntresses without the texts, but up until Kelly, we had to wait for the scholars to figure it out.” He headed for the door, snagging the case that the
sai
were housed in on his way. “We were lucky to find Kelly before Lazarus did. Ever since she and Andrew bonded, she’s been able to see where our next Huntress will be. Sometimes right down to the street. It’s amazing, she’s amazing, and she’s sacrificed a lot for us.”

A stupidly jealous flare rose in my gut. I wanted that kind of praise, that kind of worship.

I bet if I kill Lazarus, I’ll be the one they can’t live without.

Shame washed through me just as suddenly as pride had. Kelly truly was a wonderful woman, trapped in a useless body and kept from enjoying her Hunter, all the while continuing to help the Order. The thought had me mourning what I wasn’t getting from Cal. The stubborn bastard and his need to keep a distance confused me more than anything. Why did he not want me when I was here, alive and willing? Worse, why did I get the feeling that this was all one giant lie—like he was lying to himself just as much as he was lying to me about his feelings?

Lance waited for me by the door, his expression quizzical. “Coming?”

I nodded as I forced my self-pity away. I would survive without Cal, even if he didn’t know what he was missing. “Yeah, let’s go kick some target ass.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Locked Out

Cal stood outside of Morgan’s bedroom door feeling totally and completely disgusted with himself. How dare he come to her again after treating her so badly only that morning? His mind reeled with the compulsion to go in and see her, be with her again. It was horrible, despicable and heartless of him, but Cal just couldn’t seem to control his desperate need to touch her.

Once again, he had spent almost the entire day watching her and Lance train. He’d been shocked but happy to see how well she used the
sai
, particularly when Lance and she went outside to the target mounts. She’d nailed every single bull’s-eye dead center, even from thirty feet away. Such an accomplishment had him bursting with pride, which also had him tumbling down a twisted path of confusion. He badly wanted to be a part of her triumphs, but instead he had to train himself to loathe her because it was the only way that he’d be able to kill her when she betrayed them.

For one blissful moment while watching her earlier, he’d thought he had it all figured out. He thought he could arrange things so that she didn’t have to fight Lazarus, avoid the battle altogether and keep her from betraying them. When it came down to it, the battle would only happen on the lunar eclipse if the Hunters set it up to happen. If they hid Morgan away, kept her safe on that night, then it would slip by and the prophesy might not come to be. But then reality crashed over him. When it came to the Huntresses, fate had a nasty way of sneaking up on them. Lazarus would not rest until he got his chance at her, especially if she was truly his bride. He wanted an heir so badly that he would do whatever he needed to do to get her.

Yeah, like turn all of her friends into beasts to lure her out of hiding
.

It would be torture for Morgan, an unbearable burden. Lazarus would get her out of hiding one way or another. Cal had heard the stories his whole life, he was well aware of what Lazarus could and would do to get his prize. Cal’s mother had been no exception. Lazarus had turned every single one of her family members into werewolves in an attempt to weaken her, and Cal supposed, in a way, it had worked. She’d succumbed. She’d betrayed them. And she had died for her sins.

The fact that Kelly couldn’t see Morgan’s battle clearly meant nothing. It was going to happen on the lunar eclipse just as it had in the past, the only night that Lazarus was most vulnerable, and somehow Morgan would fail them. The only glimmer of hope Cal had was that Kelly had predicted that Morgan would fatally wound one of the beasts. It might be Lazarus.

Or it might not.
There was just no way to know for sure.

His crushing thoughts had sent him spiraling into a foul mood and even with a few hours of punishing training, and a hard pummeling of the punching bags, he was still depressed and angry. So here he stood outside her room, wanting so badly to go in and lie down with her. Feel her soft curves and hard muscles. Smell that ever-present exotic scent that seeped from her pores, the one he just couldn’t get enough of.

He raised his hand to the doorknob and gave it a twist, using his body to push forward, then grunted with surprise as his chest and face collided with the door. He stepped back to stare. “What the…” He tried again, twisting and pushing, but nothing happened.

As he laid his hand on the door just above the knob, he felt it—the warm, throbbing presence of a symbol. She’d locked him out with magic. He ran his hand along the pattern, feeling for its edges, then pulled away as a spark snapped at him through the wood. “Fuck.” The magic she imbued on the door was stronger than anything he’d been able to wield. She was using his own magic against him and she was better at it.

Cal pounded on the door, suddenly too angry to think straight. She would
not
lock him out.

He was midway through a second round of furious pounding when the door suddenly flew open, and Morgan stood on the other side, glaring in his direction “What?”

“Why did you lock the door?” he growled.

Morgan glowered at him. “Because I don’t want uninvited visitors just waltzing in here, asshole.”

He ground his jaw, certain that he was about to bust a tooth with the force. “Oh?”

With a slow, wicked smile spreading over her face, Morgan leaned toward him. “I’m not your whore, Cal. My door is closed to you from now on. Thanks for the power share, but I don’t need you anymore. I prefer Lance, anyway. He’ll teach me everything I need to know. And he’s not a dick.”

Her words were like a blow to the chest. Cal clenched his fist as he took a step toward her, his anger flaring once again. “Lance?” He sneered as he replayed all of the touching Lance had done to her during their training. “You prefer Lance…”

Morgan nodded as she took a step back and moved to close the door. He put his hand out to stop it but jolted back as another spark of magic seared through his skin. “Son of a…”

Morgan was smiling with cool detachment as she shifted her gaze from his fingers to his eyes. “Like I said, I don’t want any uninvited guests.” She slammed the door in his face only to open it a moment later. “Where’s my phone, by the way? I’d like to call Rachel and tell her about what an asshole you are.”

Cal glared back at her. “I crushed it.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before sliding back to a hard look. “You broke my phone?”

He turned away. “Yeah, it was causing too many problems so I got rid of it.” He started walking down the hall, practically tearing himself from her. Even with her hatred-filled eyes, he still wanted her. He still needed her.

“You
are
an asshole,” she hissed as she slammed the door again.

He shook his head as he jerked his hand through his hair.
Not the outcome I was expecting.

“And don’t come back, you fuck-head,” she shouted through the door.

He continued down the hall, his shoulders slumped, defeat washing over him as he made his way to the barracks. He’d sleep with the rest of the guys until he figured out what to do. And he needed to do something or he was going to go mad. Cal had thought it would be easier if she was angry with him, but it hurt like fucking hell. All he wanted was to scream and yell with her, let her take her anger out on him in whatever way she wanted to and then fall into a passionate embrace—angry sex to make up for all of the hate. He craved her now more than anything.

Lance’s voice snagged Cal as he walked past the kitchen on his way to the west wing.

“No luck tonight, man?” Lance’s normally easy drawl was replaced by something edgier. Like he, too, was angry for some reason.

Cal walked into the kitchen to find Lance leaning against the counter drinking a beer and eyeing him expectantly.

“She locked me out.”

Lance pulled the bottle from his lips and rested it on his thigh. “Yeah well, you can’t blame her, can you?”

Cal’s anger flared once again. “What’s it to you? It’s not like she’s
your
Huntress.”

Lance shrugged and took another swig, wiping his sleeve across his mouth when he lowered it again. “No, she’s yours. But I’m the one training her, aren’t I?”

Cal snorted. “So? That doesn’t mean you have a right to say anything to me. I’m going through hell, man. Don’t you realize how much this sucks?”

Lance rolled his shoulder back and pushed himself from the counter. “It’s your choice, Cal. Always has been.”

Cal pointed at Lance, his temper rising dangerously, all his pent-up jealousy and frustration at the brink of boiling over. “I don’t have a choice. Kelly says that Morgan will betray the Order.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “She’ll betray the Order? Or she’ll betray you?”

“There’s no difference,” Cal said as he folded his arms. “Betrayal is betrayal and Kelly is one hundred percent sure.”

Lance nodded, seeming to roll his thoughts around, glancing at his feet before taking one last drink from his beer bottle and then putting it on the counter.

He moved to the door. “I just don’t think it’s right, man. I know you think it is, but there’s no fucking way I would ever kill my Huntress. I don’t care what she’s destined to do. Maybe your sense of duty is getting in the way of what really matters this time. Maybe you should stop being a yes man for once and follow your heart.”

Lance’s words struck Cal like a lead fist. Any possibility of getting the last word in fled as he left the kitchen. It was wrong to kill a Huntress—deep down Cal understood that, but he also understood that to allow Lazarus the chance to breed with Morgan to produce an heir would be disastrous. A beast of that union could destroy vast amounts of the population and it would also eliminate any possibility of them conquering the pack, no matter how many Huntresses they found. That would be unacceptable, and the fact that they didn’t even know
how
Morgan would betray the Order made it even worse. If Lazarus succeeded in claiming her, Cal would fail as a Hunter and as a protector. The shitty part was that they didn’t know if she was truly his bride. Lazarus seemed to be sure of it, but until that night,
they
wouldn’t know for certain. She needed to confront him in battle and see if she was susceptible to his seduction as only his bride would be, then they would know.

Yeah, and then it might be too late.

Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head, swimming,
drowning
in all of the confusing thoughts circling there. He needed to speak with his father. He needed to find out what it had taken for him to kill his Huntress, Cal’s mother. How had he managed to act on such a vow? There had to be some way to prepare himself because as it stood, Cal already doubted the wisdom of the Order. His desire to rebel grew with every moment that Morgan was not in his arms.

Kelly didn’t actually say Morgan would die, and yet if she betrayed the Order in the way they expected, she would
have
to die. So Cal needed to find out from his father how one went about killing one’s other half without going mad.