Ann Gimpel (4 page)

Aislinn met his dead, brown gaze. “I read your journal. I’m sorry about your wife.” She hesitated. “I know what it is to lose someone you love.”

“Do you now?” he snarled. Half-eaten away lips drew back from teeth with exposed roots.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Both my parents were killed. And all my friends.”

The man stepped closer to her. Raising a hand, he ran it down her arm. Then, more familiarly, cupped a breast. “Warm,” he breathed, showering her with rancid breath. “So warm.” His hand tightened on her, pulling her close.

Swallowing revulsion, Aislinn laid a hand over his. “Don’t you want to see your wife again?”

He tossed his shaggy head. Long, gray-flecked dark hair crawling with maggots swatted against her body. “Stupid girl,” he brayed. “If you’re going to give me some prattle about heaven, don’t waste your breath. Stopped believin’ when Betty died.”

“Doesn’t matter what you believe.” Aislinn met his gaze. “Spirits of the dead live on, but you have to pass the light to know that.”

He was kneading her breast now, rubbing the exposed bone of his fingertips over her nipple. “And how would you know, missy?”

She wasn’t certain, but Aislinn thought she saw hope flicker behind his dead eyes. “Because I have to believe I’ll see my parents again one day. Either I’ll be killed in battle, or after I’m through fighting for the Lemurians.”

He dropped her breast as if it burned him. A hissing sibilance passed his lips, spraying her with spittle. “You’re one of them. Turned by the other side.”

Outraged shrieks battered her ears. The dead closed in on her.

“Grab her,” one of them shouted.

“We need her.”

“She’s warm.”

“Lemurian magic might bring us back.”

“Oh no, it won’t,” Aislinn countered, swallowing pity and fear. “They’re the ones who killed most of you. Remember?” She hurried on. “If you keep on killing the few of us who are left, who will avenge your deaths?”

The remains of a plump woman sidled close. She stroked Aislinn’s hair, sending ice chips into her guts. “Warm,” she mumbled. “I remember what it was to be warm.”

The miner shoved his body between them. “Go,” he hissed at Aislinn. “You do devil’s work. We will let you leave, but you must make me a promise.”

“What?” Aislinn wondered if she’d have to lie.

“Fight those who killed us. I want revenge.”

We all do.
Sucking in a deep breath, and letting it out, she decided to take a chance, hoping the Lemurians weren’t in her head to listen. “Once the dark are defeated, if that’s even possible, I give you my word that I will do what I can to see that the Old Ones return to Taltos and remain there.”

The man turned to the rest of the ghost army. Aislinn hadn’t been paying attention, but when she looked, it seemed most of them had crowded into the miner’s shack. Bodies merged into bodies in one stinking, gelatinous mass. “What do you think?” he demanded.

“She spoke true,” one ventured.

“Aye, I thought she’d lie to save her sorry hide,” another spat.

Realizing that her jaws were clamped together so hard they ached, Aislinn opened her mouth. Some of the dead were determined to keep her, while others argued one more life couldn’t possibly help them. She reached for her magic again, inhaling sharply when she didn’t sense the barrier anymore.

May as well be ready,
she reasoned and started the spell to take her away from this place.

The miner grasped her wrist. “We did not release you.”

A wry smile split her face. “You let me access my magic. It’s pretty much the same thing.” She held her breath.

He smiled back at her, ghoulish with almost non-existent lips and snagly teeth. “Maybe it is. Go, human. Never forget what you are.” He made shooing motions toward the door.

Aislinn didn’t wait to be asked again. Swallowing down bile, she raced outside, hungry for air not tainted with the reek of dead meat.
What the hell?
She stopped in her tracks as soon as she’d cleared the lintel. Sitting on its haunches, staring at her with amber eyes, was the most intelligent-looking wolf she’d ever seen. It cocked its head to one side. Gray fur, streaked with silver and black, gleamed in the sun.

I’m not a Hunter. Why would it come to me?
Those with Hunter gifts had animal sidekicks, like Travis’s civet. Following instincts, fueled by her magic, she reached toward the wolf and asked in mind speech,
“You want something of me. What is it?”

Feeling foolish—after all, her hunches were sometimes wrong—Aislinn glanced sidelong at the wolf, and readied herself to leave. It wouldn’t do to tarry in case the shades changed their minds.

“I’m coming with you,”
the wolf said.

“I am not a Hunter. You have made a mistake.”

The wolf rose lazily to its feet, lush tail swishing.
“I never make mistakes. Include me in your spell. If you do not, the Hunter Covenant gives me the right to kill you.”

The wolf stalked over to her. She saw that it was male. Aislinn culled through her memory banks for what she knew about Hunters and their animals. Humans with Hunter skills were the most adept at finding the enemy—and killing them. Somehow, the blend of animal magic boosted whatever the human brought to the table. She couldn’t remember what happened to humans who refused an animal bond. Who knew. Maybe rejection did give the wolf the right to kill her.

Covenant or not, it didn’t pay to get off on the wrong foot. She’d never tolerated being bullied and wasn’t about to start now.
“Now see here.”
She hunkered down so their gazes met directly.
“No threats.”

He just looked at her, tongue lolling.

“Great,” she muttered and expanded her casting to bring wolfie-boy along. “Ghost army, talking wolf. What the hell else will I find between here and Taltos?”

Chapter Three

A
islinn brought them down in the ruins of Salt Lake City—an asphalt nightmare. She had been aiming for her old neighborhood and the bomb shelter her father and some of his friends had hogged out under their home in the nineteen nineties. She was tired and knew she needed food and sleep before she could travel again. So far, wolfie hadn’t been any trouble, but it took almost double the magic to move both of them. She’d felt power from the civet. If wolfie had any, he was doing a good job of hiding it. She did some quick calculations. The four days that had seemed generous now seemed as if they might not be quite enough.

The wolf morphed into being next to her and made a whuffy noise, midway between a whine and a snarl.
“Where have you brought us? Nothing to hunt here but corpses.”
He wrinkled his nose in lupine disgust.

Ignoring his question, she asked,
“Do you have a name?”

He gazed at her with interest.
“Why?”

“So I can have something to call you besides wolfie?”

“Rune will do.”

She rolled the name around in her mind. It chimed sourly. Raising her eyebrows, she looked at him.
“That’s not your name.”

“Names have power. Even you should know that, human.”

Biting off a sarcastic retort, she said,
“Just make sure no one follows us.”

Feeling thoroughly chastised, and by a wolf no less, she trotted in the direction of the house she used to live in, leading them across a rubble-filled alleyway, through a culvert, and finally underground, down badly decomposed steps. Many were missing. She stumbled a couple of times, catching herself on what was left of the handrail. The doorway was still in place, right along with the punch code lock. She keyed in seven-seven-four-three, and the door swung inward.

Aislinn stepped inside with Rune at her heels. As soon as his tail cleared the door, she pushed it shut and sank into a dusty chair. It was dark as pitch with the door closed, but she didn’t need to see. The smell in the small enclosure reminded her of her father, and tears rose, threatening to spill over.

“Your pack lived here.”

Wondering how he could possibly know that, but too weary to puzzle it out, her eyes fluttered shut.

When she opened them, she knew she’d slept, but not for very long. She was hungry and thirsty, but rested enough. Rune had curled his body around her chair. She felt his fur, soft against her ankles, and the heat rising off his body. For some inexplicable reason, his nearness brought a smile to her face. Now that her eyes had adapted to the dark, she could see threads of light filtering around the door where it no longer fit tightly in its frame.

“Time to hunt?”
he asked, stretching out one paw at a time once he’d gotten to his feet.

She nodded, rising.
“There used to be food here. Let me look.”
She called light—a glowing rose orb—into being. It followed after her like an obedient puppy.

Since the combination lock had been a decent deterrent, quite an array of canned goods remained. Most likely all of them. Beckoning her light closer, she peered at a can of Hormel corned beef hash. Then she laughed. “Use by September nineteen ninety-nine, huh?” She poked at the can. It seemed intact. The lids on either end weren’t pooched out like they’d have been if botulism had set in. Returning to the cans, she got peaches, green beans, Vienna sausage, and the can of hash. The can opener still hung by its hook on the side of the cabinet. She grabbed it, too.

Rune was waiting by her chair, ears pricked forward. She waggled the can of hash at him.
“Interested?”

“I don’t think so.”
He wrinkled his nose.
“Whatever’s in there died a long time ago.”

“Well, try some. It will save time.”
Using the opener, she removed the lid and upended the can on the packed dirt floor. The wolf nosed it, shrugged his furry shoulders, and began to eat. Although hesitant at first, once he’d taken a couple of bites, he snarfed down the rest.

She went to work on the beans and sausage, eating with her fingers. Everything tasted okay. She saved the peaches with their sticky syrup for last. “Go capitalism,” she muttered, popping the last peach into her mouth. The canned good manufacturers probably underestimated the shelf life of their products on purpose to make people buy more. She looked around the twelve by twelve subterranean space. It had been underneath their kitchen. In addition to the faded, corduroy easy chair, there was a card table with four chairs, shelves built into every wall, and hooks for a kerosene lantern. Her father hadn’t been sure there’d be enough ventilation to use it for very long, but two five-gallon tins of kerosene sat in one corner, along with their battered Coleman lantern and a supply of mantles she was certain had long since turned to dust.

Her family. This was the last of what was left of them and their home. Not very fucking much. Resisting an urge to sift through the rubble above to see if she could find anything else left, she set the peach can on the floor. The bomb shelter had been built before she was born. She remembered playing down here on hot summer days when the temperature climbed into the nineties in Salt Lake.

Rune’s voice broke into her memories.
“I thought we were in a hurry, human.”

“Yes.”
She shot out of the chair as if the wolf had bitten her, disgusted with herself for her unauthorized trip into yesterday-land.
“We are.”

“Where are we going?”

She pulled the door open, withdrew the magic supporting her light, and cocked her head to one side.
“Can you help when we travel?”

“Certainly. You did not ask.”

Certainly,
her inner voice mimicked.
As if I knew I had to.

“Well,”
she ventured, aiming for a neutral tone,
“I’d really appreciate it. We have a long way to go.”

“I need to know our destination.”

“I can’t tell you.”

Rune, who’d started up the stairs, whipped his body around. Golden wolf eyes glared down at her, glinting amber in the low light.
“I am your bond animal. There are no secrets between us.”

“I shouldn’t have a bond animal,”
she argued, pushing past him up the steps.
“I already told you. I’m not a Hunter.”

“Yes,”
he insisted,
“you are.”

They were still quarreling when they emerged into daylight. Realizing too late that she should have been more cautious, she sent magic scattering in a full circle, seeking threats.

“I already checked,”
Rune informed her haughtily.
“If there had been danger, I would not have allowed you above ground.”

Aislinn rolled her eyes. Not only did she have a talking wolf who was convinced he was bonded to her, now the wolf had decided he was her guardian angel. Ignoring him, she began setting up her magic so they could leave. Spell mostly in place, she whistled for Rune. He was facing away from her, sniffing something about fifty feet away. He didn’t turn around.
“Rune,”
she hissed, struggling to contain the spell. It tugged at her, ready to launch itself.
“We’re ready.”

He swiveled his head to look back at her over one shoulder.
“Oh,”
he inquired caustically,
“are we?”

“Fine.”
She threw up her hands. Her spell lost its punch. Christ, but she hated to waste magic.
“Did you decide you’re not coming?”

“I don’t know.” He turned to face her.

She opened her mouth to answer, and then it fell open. “You just answered me,” she sputtered. “And not in mind speech.”

“All bond animals can talk,” Rune informed her. “But only to our bonded one or others with the Hunter gift.” His voice was deep and rumbly, sort of like a friendly grizzly bear.

Aislinn sank to a convenient piece of concrete. “Look.” She held out her hands. “I have no training in Hunter magic. Zero. Zip. Zilch. I’m a Mage with weak Seeker ability. At least, that’s what I thought I was. Also, I’m used to working alone. I like it that way. That doesn’t make me very good partner material.”

Rune walked a bit closer. He hung his head. “You probably should know my last human was killed in a Bal’ta raid led by Tokhots. I tried to protect her, but she did not listen to me. I killed all those godless whelps, except Tokhots, that murdered my bonded one. He vanished as soon as the first few Bal’ta died.” The wolf’s lower jaw quivered. He threw back his head, and one long, low, anguished howl burst from him. “You were the first Hunter I’ve come across since her death. I listened outside that cabin when you bargained with the dead. I liked what I heard.” The wolf hesitated for a long time before his next words. “If you truly do not want me, I will seek another. I do not want a forced bond. Even though the laws say I could kill you for refusing me, I would not do that.”

Oh, God. What do I do now?
The wolf’s distress was so palpable, it seared her, but he was proud, too. She could see it in the determined set of his shoulders. She’d never wanted to hurt anyone. In that moment, she understood on a visceral level that she’d chased away the possibility of support—and love—to shield herself. Aislinn was ashamed. What was it Travis had said?
We’ve all lost a lot…
Something like that. She’d used her losses as an excuse to check out of life. Drifting from assignment to assignment, she’d never let herself think too deeply about anything.
Guess I thought I’d be killed sooner or later.

Scooting over, she hunkered next to Rune and held out a hand to him. “If you go into this knowing you’ll have to help me because I don’t know shit about being half of a bond pair, well, I’m willing to give it a whirl.”

“You don’t have to,” he said stiffly, still not looking at her. “I didn’t tell you about losing Marta so you would pity me. I told you so you would understand.”

She stifled a bitter laugh. “I don’t pity you,” she said. “I pity me. I lied to you just now. It’s not that I prefer working alone. I’ve chosen to so I don’t have to feel responsible for anyone else’s death. If you still want me for your bond mate, I’d be honored.”

Rune looked at her then. Really looked at her. It felt as if he was sifting through her soul. At length, he shut his eyes and whuffled softly. “You still have not told me where we are going. I must know if I am to help boost your magic.”

Aislinn let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. This was the first time she’d offered anything touching the core of herself since her parents died. Granted, it was only a wolf—
No,
a stern inner voice kicked in.
He is far more than a wolf, and you know it. He is love and risk. And vulnerability.

“I am going to Taltos,”
she sent in shielded mind speech.
“I do not know if they will let you in.”

What he said next shocked her.
“They may not exactly welcome me, but I’ve already been there.”

She was a little show on the uptake, because she was well into pulling their traveling spell together when it dawned that if Rune had been there, he must know how to find it.

“Of course,” he said, obviously having read her mind.

“You know my thoughts?” For a second time that afternoon, her spell drifted away on the winds.

The wolf nodded. “You should know mine, now I’ve dropped my shielding. It is part of the bond gift.”

She smiled at him, liking this new development, even though it felt scary. It would be like having a twin, where each knew the other’s innermost feelings. She’d always wanted a brother or sister—

Her head snapped up about the time she heard Rune’s voice in her head.
“Back down the stairs, human. Get that door open. Do it now.”

The old Aislinn would have hesitated, wanting to see exactly what it was they faced. Today’s Aislinn dove for the stairwell, trusting Rune’s hyper-tuned senses. She was only about twenty feet from the break in the earth leading downward. Because she knew where the damaged steps were, she made the bottom in seconds and entered the code from feel without drawing magic for her light. Rune nosed her forward as soon as the door opened.

Aislinn stood in the dark, the harsh sound of the wolf’s panting loud in her ears. “What was out there?” she whispered, loathe to use any magic in case something with Seeker or Hunter ability lurked above them.

“Dark magic.”

“Can you still sense it?” She hesitated. “More importantly, can they sense you?”

“Yes and no.”

“Why are you invisible to them?” She was curious. Maybe she could borrow from his skills. That would be a handy one.

“Because I do not need magic to smell and hear things.”

Aislinn felt stupid. Of course he didn’t. Lupine senses were far more sensitive than her own. Feeling for the chair, she sank into it. And waited. At least half an hour ticked by. “I think we should face whatever’s out there,” she said softly.

“No.”

“Well, we can’t stay here.”

“Why not? There’s food and plastic bottles with water.”

“Because I have to be at the gateway in three more days.”

“Or?”

“Or they may not let me in.”

In the faint light filtering in from around the door, she saw Rune shift from an alert sit to his feet, tail pluming behind him. “I will go.” He nosed at the door. “Open it for me.”

“Now just a damned minute.” She rocketed to her feet and buried a hand in the thick ruff of his neck. “We can be partners, but I won’t have you fight my battles for me.”

He turned and met her gaze. “I will not lose another bond mate.”

Shit, he’s more like me than I realized…

Hunkering down, she wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in the animal scent of him. He smelled like the forest and wild things. It was a good smell. Clean and bracing. “None of us can predict the future. I will do my damnedest to stay alive, and so will you. We can help each other, but no matter how hard we try, one of us might die.” She blinked back sudden tears. “It’s not the life I was born to, and I don’t like it very much, but it’s the way things are. I say we go out there together.”

His body stiffened under her touch. She stroked his coat from shoulders to haunches again and again. Finally, he said, “It would not be my first choice, but we can leave.”

“Do you know what kind of creature we face?”

When he didn’t answer, she sent out the finest spindle of Seeker magic. It came back almost immediately. She blew out a breath. “Only wargs. And not that many of them. We should be able to mow our way through them and be gone.”