Chapter Ten
Yaundeeshaw hunters raced onto Temple lands, surrounding Benic and his men. Their muskets were still on the fucking horses. Very shortsighted of him to think they’d been safe. He’d been so focused on the death and disappearance of the Payami shifters, he’d forgotten the Yaundeeshaw had also lost their alphas. His relationship with this pack was less than amicable.
Sorin, standing straight on hind legs, his arms crossed over his chest, faced the hunters. The scars on his body, won from his challenges and badges of honor among both domestic and wild shifters, were visible even through his thick fur.
One by one, the hunters slowed at the sight of him until only their leader approached Sorin. “We haven’t any qualms with the Apisi. Stand aside, Alpha.”
Though a small pack, the Apisi were feared due to their fierce reputation. Bathed in blood since his birth, Sorin was regarded as unstable by all the other alphas of the tribe. It eased Benic’s ego somewhat to know he wasn’t the only one who had nightmares of this shifter.
“The Temple grounds are sacred, a place for prayer and celebration. Hasn’t there been enough blood shed here?” Sorin gestured to the forest floor.
“We want the vampires.” The hunter’s fur rose along his spine as he pointed at Benic and his men. “They killed our alphas. We won’t rest until they’re avenged.”
“For the last time, I didn’t kill them.” He held out his sword away from his body as a sign of surrender. “You can smell the truth on me.” Please, let them smell it. The longer they delayed there the colder Kele’s trail would grow.
The hunter crouched as if ready to pounce on Benic.
Before the Yaundeeshaw hunter moved another muscle, Sorin pinned him to the ground. With sharp teeth to his throat, the alpha shook the hunter like he was nothing more than a naughty pup. Twisting his body, Sorin tossed the big Yaundeeshaw back among his pack. “I said enough blood has been spilled.” Sorin stood once more. “Unless you want to challenge my authority as the only living alpha on this land, I suggest you go home and mourn your dead.”
The hunter climbed to his feet. “You can’t kill all of us.”
Sorin grabbed Benic by the upper arm and strode toward the Yaundeeshaw hunters. “No, I can’t, but I’ll be sure you are the first to die.” Most of the attacking shifters crouched closer to the ground and crept out of Sorin’s reach. He yanked Benic next to the hunter who wanted a taste of vampire flesh. “I will lead this search for the killer and dole out punishment since I seem the only one present capable of rational thought.” He poked the hunter in the chest with a pointed claw. “As is customary, one week of mourning—no challenges are to be started for alpha succession before then. In the meantime, Benic will organize a search for the killers and bring the missing home.” Sorin glared at each person in turn. “There is no doubt vampires were involved, but Benic claims they are not his and he smells of truth. I’m sure our vampire lord wants to take part in the hunt to ensure this will never happen again.”
Benic nodded, as it seemed the best way to keep his head attached to his shoulders. “Of course, I do.” And he did, but not for those reasons. This was his chance to prove to Kele he truly did care for her. Rescuing her might be what he needed to gain her and her pack’s forgiveness.
“This goes for the Payami as well, Ahote. One week of mourning before challenges start.”
The dark shifter nodded. “How will we learn of what you’ve discovered?”
“Once this time has passed, send representatives to Temple land. I or someone else representing my pack will be here and can pass on the information.”
Reluctantly, the Yaundeeshaw hunters agreed and left the Temple area. The Payami began to melt into the forest.
“Ahote, wait. A word in private.” Sorin gestured for the large hunter to join him and Benic. “I cannot go on this quest. Susan is due to drop puppies any day. I wish to remain at her side.” He spoke softly so no others could hear. “I want you to aid Benic in finding our lost ones.”
“You think it’s wise?” Ahote’s ears leaned forward. “The Yaundeeshaw might take insult for not including them.”
“Do I look like I give a dog’s shit? I know nothing of the Yaundeeshaw or the Payami for that matter except I don’t want either of you on my lands. But I do know you.” He rested his large clawed hand on Ahote’s shoulder. “You’re a hunter of worth. I can trust you to do your best to bring both Kele and Peder back.”
“And you don’t trust me to do this?” Benic asked.
“I trust you to find them, but returning Kele to her pack or allowing Peder to live—I have my doubts.”
“Then why include me at all?”
Sorin bent so their gazes collided. “Because the vampires probably took them into vampire territory, something I think you are an expert on. Ahote will have better access to people with a vampire lord at his side.”
Benic jerked from Sorin’s hold and faced Ahote. “What of their scent trail?”
“It leads out of the forest. We assumed it was you and went to the castle instead of following its path. I can find it easily. They used a heavy wagon to carry the shifters away.”
“Most likely a cage.” Poachers. When he’d first taken over these lands, he’d had problems with poachers stealing his shifters. He’d made a fine example of their corpses to dissuade any further trespassing. It seemed their memories had faded. “Chances are they’re slavers and will be heading south to sell the shifters they’ve captured in New Berg.”
Sorin roared at the mention of slavers. The sound almost stopped Benic’s heart. “Hurry then. Before they’re sold and it grows harder to find them.”
“That was my plan from the start, Alpha. You may have a poor opinion of me but your safety has always been my priority.”
Sorin showed Benic his teeth. On a shifter in feral form, it couldn’t be mistaken for a smile. “Then you’ve done a poor job of it.” He melted back into the forest and vanished.
Benic hung his head. Why did he care what these creatures thought of him? He could die in their defense but they would still call him a traitor and spit on his corpse. Or eat it. Either way, part of him still yearned for the respect of such a noble society where truth reigned and politics were about strength, not cunning.
Ewald reclined in a chair next to the hearth where a small fire burned. Pemma suspected it was more for light than for heat. She sat on a thick cushion by his feet, darning pack socks. It was mindless work that kept her idle fingers busy but she liked contributing to her pack. Being by Ewald’s side at all times isolated her from them. Wolves needed the pack, especially their omegas. She sighed and swallowed around the hard lump in her throat.
However, Lord Weis had given them fine rooms with a receiving area and access to the gardens, a kind gesture for the son of an old acquaintance. Her pack was given servant quarters in the cellars. Some grumbled of the stink. She couldn’t blame them. Cold and damp, the space smelled of death and shadows. If she wasn’t careful, one of the other females might try to steal her place. That wouldn’t be so terrible, if any of them were as good as getting information as she was. The last thing her pack needed was a useless female in Ewald’s bed.
Gramp, her alpha and maternal grandfather, sat in the chair next to Ewald. He stroked her hair in an absentminded way. One of the duties of an omega was to bring comfort and she could scent Gramp’s worry. She served as reminder as to why they’d journeyed so far from home. He wanted his great-grandchildren to live wild.
Ewald stared at the flames and rubbed his chin. “Only two?”
“Yes, sire. Most of the shifters in these parts are already settled in jobs or farmland. When I offer them a chance to go west, I’m laughed at as if I were mad.”
She hesitated for only a moment. She had to pretend not be listening but the news explained Gramp’s mood.
Only Ewald’s eyes moved to her alpha. “Truly? That’s disconcerting.”
She set aside her finished work and pulled out another pair of holey socks. If they traveled, she must make sure they purchased better quality footwear for the hunters. They would be depending on them more than ever once in the wild. It sounded like it would be worse than anyone had imagined.
“Quite. From what I’ve gathered, those who travel west to settle the land don’t return.”
His lord chuckled. “Well, of course they don’t return, they’ve settled their new land. They’ve made homes. Why would they return?”
“What I mean, sire, is there’s no trace of the settlements. The government has sent out troops to hold the forts but the places are empty.”
She shivered. Adventure had once seemed grand—they’d been foolhardy to have crossed the ocean.
“Well, we haven’t the coin to travel back home and we can’t live off Lord Weis’s generosity forever. I have a deed for a large span of land on the other side of the Gray Mountains. We just need to figure out how to get there alive.”
“I’m told the wolf shifter packs are large in the West.” Gramp stopped petting her and clasped his hands in front of him. “They live in feral form more than civil.”
“The packs along these shores were just as wild, Gramp, and my people tamed them. We will do the same in the West. Once they see how much easier it is to live among us, they’ll change their minds.”
Pemma stared at the hole in the sock that she held. The wild packs along these shores hadn’t known of vampires or horses or gunpowder. The element of surprise and the vampires’ unfair warring tactics had won these lands. Not open hands of peace. The wild packs of the West had the advantage of foreknowledge of vampire weaponry, and so far they defeated every vampire incursion. Maybe they could settle in this city instead?
“We’ll do as in Europa. We’ll offer them peace, shelter, and food in exchange for honest labor.”
She turned to meet Gramp’s gaze. Ewald’s gentle heart would be the death of them. They had to protect their pack and she couldn’t stay quiet anymore. Not with her pack’s lives at stake. “I’m not sure they’ll care about those things. If they had, the West would be settled.”
Ewald made a noise of frustration. He watched the fire as if future visions might lie within. “Then we’ll have to be well armed. We knew this wouldn’t be an easy endeavor. What more can we offer the local shifters for them to follow us?”
Gramp shrugged. “I’ve offered them all I could as an alpha. Most are already ensconced in their own packs. Oddly, I’ve discovered no strays in the city.”
“That’s because they’d probably been sold as slaves.” No one heard her quiet retort. She was better for it. Her views on the subject had not been welcome with Ewald. He didn’t understand her loathing of the practice since she’d chosen a life of servitude. But that was the difference he couldn’t understand. She’d chosen to be omega. It was her nature to please others and in return her pack offered her safety. The slaves weren’t given such a choice, and from the welts on their backs she didn’t think they were safe.
“The only trade coming in from the West are slavers and trappers.”
“Have you spoken to any of these men?”
“I’ve tried, sire, but they’re vampires and most don’t see me as more than a potential coin lost.”
“Vampire slavers?” Ewald rose to his feet and poured brandy into three glasses. He gave one to both her and Gramp. No matter what anyone said of vampires, Ewald cared for them in his own way.
She sipped at the drink and savored the bright burn in her throat. “Maybe you should go speak with the owner of the auction place we saw on our way here?” Her question seemed scatterbrained but she knew Gramp wanted to turn the conversation toward this subject. He’d briefed her earlier this morning while Ewald visited with Lord Weis.
“That’s an excellent idea, Pemma.” Gramp patted her on the head and tossed back his brandy in one shot. He didn’t get the pleasure of alcohol often. Her grandmother hated it. She’d be furious with him later. There was no way to hide the stench of alcohol on one’s breath.
Pemma smiled at the image of Gram chasing after Gramp with her walking stick. Maybe she could sneak away from Ewald and hang out with the pack later this evening to see it play out in real life.
“You want me to speak with slavers?” Ewald’s eyes went wide. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Make the arrangements. I’ve never been to a slave auction.”