Grizz was the first to move. With a bear-sized groan, he rolled onto his back and pressed his hands against his head. “What the fuck happened?”
“How do you feel?” Kougar asked.
“Like my head’s been put through a meat grinder.” He sat up, started to rise, until he saw the drawn knives, then sat back down, hands in the air. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
Kougar motioned to the Shaman. “We think we may have exorcised the darkness. The Shaman can tell by touching you. Don’t move.”
Grizz lowered his hands to his knees but otherwise remained still as the Shaman touched the top of his dark head and nodded.
“Clear. Not a shadow left.”
Lyon strode toward them from the house. “Does this mean the animal spirit is clear as well?”
The Shaman nodded. “Yes. No darkness survived the power we drew in that cave. I’m certain of it.”
Hawke heard the words, hope rising and falling in the same instant. Because he felt no different. No better. Like nothing had changed.
As Lynks began to stir, the Shaman touched him, too. Lynks stiffened, and the Shaman pulled back. “He is clear also.” He turned to Hawke. “How do you feel?”
Hawke pulled off his T-shirt and looked over his shoulder at the feral marks that were nearly gone. He sighed. “What about Faith?” He pulled the shirt back over his head as the Shaman knelt beside her.
“She suffered the most,” the ancient man murmured, touching her head. Hawke had to fight back the possessive growl that tried to rise in his throat. The Shaman frowned, pressing his hand to her forehead, then her cheek, the frown puckering his forehead. “The ritual didn’t work for her. She’s still infected.” He met Hawke’s gaze with regret. “I’m sorry.”
Ariana and Kougar moved to join them as the Shaman rose to his feet.
“Why didn’t it work?” Hawke demanded, but he was afraid he knew the answer.
The Shaman shook his head. “The darkness in its dormant state cannot be vanquished. You must release it. Bring her into her animal first.”
Lyon joined them, his expression drawn. “I don’t like exposing Kara to another infected Renascence. She still hasn’t recovered from the last.”
But the woman in question was crossing the yard and heard. Kara slid her arm around Lyon’s waist, and he tucked her in close as she looked at Faith. “I’m fine, Lyon.”
He lifted her chin, studying her with worried eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m good enough. Faith needs to be brought into her animal, and without me, you can’t do it. It’s my job.”
Still, the Chief of the Ferals hesitated, clearly torn between his personal need to keep his mate safe and the greater need to see this newest Feral cleared of the magic infecting her.
He sighed heavily. “Then we’ll do it tonight, just before dawn.” Pulling Kara against his side, he turned to his men. “Meanwhile, we need to get a lead on the other new Ferals.”
“I’ll head out to Harpers Ferry,” Wulfe offered.
Lyon nodded. “I’ve already sent Jag and Olivia scouring areas nearby. Delaney is hooked into the FBI’s network, looking for reports of strange, large animals.”
As the others moved toward the back door of Feral House, Hawke brushed Faith’s blue-tipped locks back from her still-unconscious face. The thought of her having to go through that again tore something loose inside of him. But there was no choice, was there? She had to be cured.
“Are you bringing her in, Hawke?” Kougar called, halfway to the patio.
Hawke shook his head, and Kougar lifted his hand in acknowledgment and joined the others. Alone, Hawke tipped his face to the spring sunshine filtering through the leaves, enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face. He needed time out here beneath the trees to think. It had been so long since he’d been able to take to the skies and revel in the freedom. And now it looked like he might never feel that joy again. But he hated even more that Faith hadn’t been cured.
Beneath the brush of his hand, she began to stir. Her eyes blinked open, her gaze moving to his. “Did it work?” she asked softly.
“For the others, yes. For you, no.”
She sat up slowly, eyeing him with a bleakness that cut him to the core, a hopelessness that told him she expected them to clear the way for her replacement.
He reached for her, stroking her hair. “We’re not giving up on you, Smiley. The Shaman believes they can’t cure the darkness while it’s dormant. We have to bring you into your animal first.”
Relief lit her features, then dissolved into an expression that made her look as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “You mean I have to go through that again?”
“It shouldn’t be as bad the next time. Neither of the others suffered like you did.” He sat on the grass beside her and took her hand in his. “We’ll bring you into your animal just before dawn tomorrow morning.”
Her eyes slowly turned huge as another thought seemed to occur to her. “I’m going to turn evil.”
“Not evil, just . . . infected.”
Her hand squeezed his fiercely. “Don’t let me hurt anyone, Hawke. Promise me. I couldn’t the way I am now, but if I turn into something with big teeth . . .”
“I won’t let you hurt anyone.”
He hoped he could hang on to his animal long enough to fulfill that promise.
W
ulfe parked his truck behind a deserted warehouse outside Frederick, Maryland, then climbed out, shoved his keys deep in his jeans pocket, and stripped, tossing his clothes into the bed of the oversized pickup. Kneeling beside the truck, hidden from prying eyes, he shifted into his wolf. He’d made a brief foray in and around Harpers Ferry before driving the twenty miles to Frederick. Though he’d tried to convince himself . . . and Lyon . . . otherwise, this trip had little to do with hunting the new Ferals. It was a long shot that they’d have come back here, and he’d seen no evidence of it.
No, this trip was about Natalie and his need to check on her for Xavier.
Okay, not for Xavier. Not
just
for Xavier. The truth was he needed to know that she was all right. He needed to see her for himself even though she wouldn’t remember him. He’d taken care to clear her memories of that horrific day—the deaths of her friends at the hands of three wraith Daemons, the Earth opening in front of the stake upon which she’d been tied. The opening had been a wormhole into the spirit trap, and Hawke and Tighe had gone down, as had a couple of her dead friends.
But Natalie had survived, along with her brother, Xavier, and another girl. The Ferals had been able to clear Natalie’s and the other girl’s memories, but Xavier was blind, and memories were cleared through the eyes. He lived at Feral House, now, helping Pink in the kitchen.
And Natalie was back home with no recollection of where she’d been for a week or where her brother had gone. All she knew was that three of her friends had died horrific deaths. She knew that only because their bodies had been spit out again by the spirit trap, and the Ferals had left them for the humans to find.
In his wolf’s form, he trotted into the woods separating him from Natalie’s house, having mapped out the coordinates before he left home.
At least she wasn’t alone. Natalie was engaged to be married. Wulfe had returned her to her world, leaving her in Harpers Ferry and watching from the shadows as her fiancé swept her into his arms.
He couldn’t get the damned image out of his head. It was best for her, he knew that. She had no place in his world. She was human. And he was a widower, as the humans would put it. A mated male with a dead mate, which equated to
damaged,
in his world. Mating bonds were real among Therians, not verbal or legal promises, as in the human world. And a severed mating bond damaged the survivor, one way or another. He didn’t have it in him to connect that way with a woman again. And he’d never want to, especially with a human who would only die on him, too. No, he wasn’t looking for anything from Natalie, he just needed to know she was okay. In the short time he’d spent with her in the prison below Feral House, she’d touched him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Some twenty minutes later, he picked up her scent, sending a thrill of recognition through his man’s mind. She’d walked these woods in the past couple of days. Alone.
He followed her scent straight to the house he knew was hers—a small two-story Colonial with pale yellow siding and a wooden deck attached to the back. And now what was he going to do? He couldn’t trot up to the door and start barking. In his wolf’s form, he was huge—far bigger than any normal wolf. In past centuries, he’d terrified humans in his animal form. Today, with wolves so rare, most humans assumed he was merely a big dog. Many weren’t quite terrified, though most gave him a wide berth. Which generally suited him just fine.
Today, he wished he could downsize into an innocuous pup and call for Natalie’s attention. Though he’d stolen her memories of him, he couldn’t risk her seeing his man’s face. Nor did he want her to. She might not have been afraid of the scarred mess after that trio of hideous Daemons, but she didn’t remember those, now, either. Compared to most humans, he was a monster. And, thanks to his inability to keep his clothes when he shifted, a big, naked one, at that. No, it was far better to stay in his animal. To stay hidden in the woods and hope he caught a glimpse of her. It was already close to sunset. If she didn’t pull blinds or curtains over her windows at night, he might succeed. If she did, he was out of luck. Or if she went to her fiancé’s place instead of her own.
The thought sat like hot coals in his gut.
He settled into the underbrush about twenty feet from the back of her deck to wait, wondering if he should just leave and forget about trying to see her. If he really needed to know that she was okay, all he had to do was have Delaney or one of the other women give her a call, pretending to be a reporter. Goddess knew the press had been all over her after her miraculous escape from death. But just as he’d about convinced himself to turn around and head home, he heard the sound of a car stop in front of the house. His pulse leaped, his ears twitching, his nose seeking her scent. He heard a door open and close. A moment later, something moved in her house. Natalie? He leaped up, catching a glimpse of blond hair, wondering when he’d last been this excited about something . . .
anything
. And all he wanted was to catch a glimpse of her. He’d turned into a sad-ass peeping Tom.
There! She’d stepped into the kitchen, wearing a trim light green shirt with buttons down the front, her hair loose around her shoulders. He could see her clearly now, pulling a wineglass down from one of the cupboards. The lights shining down from the ceiling cast her face into shadow. Were those bruises beneath her eyes real or just cast there by the lighting?
He watched, fascinated, as she opened a bottle of red wine, poured herself a glass, and lifted it to her lips. Pleasure coursed through him, and he was suddenly glad he’d made the trip. Seeing her like this settled him, easing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been feeling.
She recorked the bottle and turned away from the window. He sank to the ground, his chin on his paws. It was enough, he told himself. He should go home now and tell Xavier that he’d seen her. That his sister was fine.
A movement caught his eye at the back door. His ears lifted and he pushed himself up. Was she . . . ? Yes! Natalie opened the glass sliding door and stepped out onto her deck. It was all he could do to keep his big wolf’s body planted on the soft earth and not bounding forward.
A sigh blew through his man’s mind, snuffling out his wolf’s mouth with a small, pleased whimper.
She was . . .
beautiful
. In the setting sun, her hair looked like spun gold, her features calm, as always.
Perfect.
She stood erect, her limbs long and lovely, her body curvy in all the right places.
As he watched, she took a sip of the red wine, then lifted her free hand to brush away something on one cheek. Then the other.
Tears.
He whined with misery, his emotions always leaking out when he was in his animal.
Natalie froze, her gaze jerking toward him. Her eyes widened, and he knew he’d been caught. Shit. He was going to scare her to death. Should he turn and run? Yeah, he should. But, goddess, he couldn’t leave her like this. Not with tears in her eyes.
He rolled onto his back, scratching his back in the underbrush which, by the way, felt damn good as he put on the Happy Dog act. Then he rolled onto his stomach and laid his head on his paws watching her, hoping she wasn’t scared. Then hoping she was because what was he thinking? He was a wolf! He knew he’d never hurt her, but she didn’t know that.
The smart thing for her to do would be to back slowly into the house and close the door. And, goddess, he didn’t want her to do that.
Another whine escaped him.
Natalie’s expression softened as she took a step forward, and another, then sat on the top step leading off the deck into the grass. “You’re beautiful, do you know that? Are you really a wolf, or just a very big dog? I should probably be afraid of you, shouldn’t I?”
Damn right, she
should.
Instead, he made his tail wag, the one thing it never did on its own, and was rewarded by a calm Natalie smile. Goddess, he’d missed those.
She held out her hand and made kissing noises toward him, and it was all he could do not to roll over with glee.
He started toward her slowly, reminding himself to keep wagging his tail, to open his mouth and let his tongue loll out in that dopey way that made dogs look like they were smiling. His gaze remained fixed on Natalie, watching Natalie, mesmerized by Natalie.
She watched him without fear, with a mix of delight and curiosity. “You are gorgeous, do you know that?”
Ha.
She wouldn’t say that if she saw the scarred mess that was his man’s face. Actually, she’d seen his man’s face. She hadn’t called him beautiful, but she hadn’t run away screaming, and that was something. A huge something.
He closed the distance between them, his heart jackhammering against his ribs. Up close, she was even more beautiful, her skin flawless and creamy, her mouth soft with that smile that had kept him company in his dreams. But her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, her lower lashes spiked and damp, and he wished with everything inside him he could give Xavier back to her. If only the Ferals could find a way to steal the kid’s memories of them and all he’d seen, and send him home.
Natalie reached for Wulfe slowly. The moment her hand slid into his fur, his body shuddered with pure pleasure.
Desperately, he wanted to shift into man form and tell her the truth, that Xavier was fine. But he’d frighten her shitless if he tried it. Naked, scarred.
Shifting.
Yeah, humans didn’t take well to that stuff. He’d tell her the truth, then just have to wipe it out of her mind again.
No, there was nothing he could do. His being here wasn’t helping her at all.
And all he’d managed to do for himself was to see her misery firsthand. To know there was nothing he could do to help her.
And to realize how much he wished that she could, in some way, be part of his life.
A
n hour before sunrise, as soon as the draden were gone for the day, the Ferals, Kara, and Faith made their way through the woods near Feral House, coming out on the rocks high above the rugged Potomac River. Faith clung to Hawke’s hand as they stepped down to the wide goddess stone. A light drizzle had been falling most of the night, and she was already soaked and cold, though the shivers that hit her with periodic frequency might be more a result of the nerves that were tying her into knots. She was terrified of what would happen when the shifting triggered the darkness inside her. Would she turn on the other Ferals and try to kill them? Would she try to escape? Would she lose her clothes when she shifted and end up standing before them all, stark naked?
Kougar had promised her they’d thought of every angle and would be placing a spell that would keep her from getting away, no matter what. The nakedness, Hawke had assured her, would be something she’d get used to if it happened. Which was of little help that morning.
Kara and Lyon led the way, Kara in a flowing red ritual gown topped by a hooded, waterproof raincoat. Faith wore jeans, a fleece hoodie, and a black sports bra Olivia had loaned her. Apparently, the ritual to bring her into her animal required her to cut herself across the chest. Upper chest. Still, a shirt of any kind was going to be ruined. And she just wasn’t willing to go topless like the men did. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Unless she really couldn’t keep her clothes on when she shifted, in which case she’d get so used to being naked around them, she’d stop thinking about it. Eventually. Maybe.
Goddess, she hoped that didn’t happen.
Okay, that just wasn’t the main thing she needed to be worrying about.
As if hearing her thoughts, Hawke stopped her and turned her to face him. Raindrops glistened on his nose, but love flared in his eyes as he pressed his warm hand to her cheeks. “I love you,” he said softly. No words of reassurance, no promises that everything would be fine. They both knew what was likely to happen.
“I love you, too.”
Kougar called up the mystic circle and set the warding that would force them all to remain within the circle until it was dismantled. The men, bare-chested, their golden armbands sparkling with raindrops, began to form a wide circle around Kara. Hawke motioned Faith to join them, and she did, tossing her hoodie onto the damp rock behind her and standing between Hawke and Tighe. Kougar began chanting, leading the ritual, but the others soon joined in. All but the other new Ferals. She was glad she wasn’t the only one standing uncomfortably mute.
Across the circle, Kougar pulled a knife, slashed a long line across his chest, then pressed his free hand against the bleeding wound before handing the knife to Lyon.
Faith’s gut cramped. She knew she was immortal, of course she knew that. Any flesh wound would heal within a matter of seconds. Ten, twenty at most. She knew that. But it didn’t mean the cut wasn’t going to hurt like hell.
Warrior after warrior slashed his chest—Paenther, Jag, Wulfe, Fox—curling their fists around their own blood. Tighe cut himself, then handed the knife to her, hilt first. Faith took it, clasping shaking fingers around the wooden handle, her gaze flicking up to Tighe’s. He nodded, his gaze a little sympathetic but mostly demanding.
Do it,
his eyes said. And she must.
“If you cut quickly, it’ll be over before you feel it,” Hawke whispered from her other side.
With a single, jerky nod, she took a deep breath, turned the knife toward her chest, squeezed her eyes closed, and cut fast from the edge of one shoulder blade to her sports bra on the other side.
Scorching pain tore across her chest.
“Good girl,” Tighe murmured.
“A little deep,” Hawke muttered, “but you’ll heal.”
“I haven’t exactly practiced this.”
“Silence,” Kougar intoned, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Bloody your hand, Faith, or you’ll have to cut yourself again.”
“Oh.” She pressed her hand against the wound, wincing more at the thought of what she was doing than the actual pain. Already, the wound was healing, the pain receding to nothing. Three cheers for immortality. Hawke curled his hand into a fist around his own now-bloody palm, and she mimicked his action.