[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws (9 page)

"What sense of satisfaction do you gain from hurting them?" I asked. "They are your wolves. You are their alpha. You are supposed to protect them, not abuse them!"

"You don't tell me what to do."

"Stop taking what your uncle did to you and your brother out on them, Sheila. Don't become the monster whose eyes you've looked into."

She jerked her gaze away from mine as if I'd slapped her. "It's too late for that, Kassandra. Far, far too late."

"That's a weak and pathetic excuse to avoid taking personal responsibility for your actions. You are whatever and whoever you decide to be." I stepped out of the circle of Lenorre's arms and approached her. "Do you want to be a good alpha or a bad one?"

"And what will you do if I am a bad one? I am alpha, not you, Kassandra. Remember?"

"That can change."

The wolves behind us had mixed reactions. There were yips of encouragement and growls of protest, but a great many of them remained silent, as silent as the pack of meek puppies that Sheila had made them.

"Now you are threatening me."

"Yes, Sheila. Now I'm threatening you. If a hair on Rosalin's head is harmed, I will hunt you down and I will kill you."

"I can physically overpower you, Kassandra."

"I'll take my chances." I turned my back on her, trusting Eris to keep her from touching me again. I lowered my shields another fraction and said, "Carver, if you would be my wolf, come to me."

He came and took my hand. I didn't know how to claim him, but I remembered how I'd claimed Rosalin. I'd offered her my protection.

"You saved my life once. I don't think I ever said thank you. I will take you as my wolf, if you would be it."

"I will be it," he said and a shock of energy jumped between our clasped palms.

My skin grew warm.

"Kassandra." It was Claire's voice. She pushed through the meek crowd of wolves and approached me. She smiled awkwardly, her hazel eyes bright and confident. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

Claire held out her hand. "Had I known you were taking applications I would've put mine in when you guys picked me up from the station."

"This isn't something I planned," I said.

"If you don't want to become an alpha, Kassandra, why are you claiming them?"

I turned back to Sheila. "To protect them."

"From?"

"You."

"Will you claim every last one of them?"

"I will claim the ones that want it, Sheila."

She laughed, looking out over her wolves. "Not too many seem eager to join forces with you," she said.

"That is their decision."

Claire caught my hand in hers, skin against skin. "Will you have me?"

"If it is your will," I said.

"It is my will." As Carver had, she slipped to her jeaned knees on the dirty ground.

That same tingle of energy tapped my palm, sailing up my arm and warming my skin further.

I made eye contact with various wolves in the pack and only a few of them refused to meet my gaze. They would avert or lower their gazes for Sheila, because she was their alpha, but not me. I was an outsider. The wolf inside me understood that it wasn't a sign of disrespect.

I met Trevor's brown eyes through the eyes of my wolf. He, like so many of the others, stank of fear. Though Isabella, his girlfriend, was one of Lenorre's Prime vampires, there was something young and carefree about Trevor. Now his usual carelessness was gone. He looked like he wasn't sure what to do, and since he wasn't sure, the wolf and I turned away from him.

We would not take the uncertain.

Sheila's wolves parted, and Zaphara strutted up through the middle of them. Her voice whispered through my mind.
I will help you find your wolf.

I gave the slightest of nods, a nod that others might take only as an acknowledgement of her presence.

"Eris," Lenorre said. "Maddox."

"Yes?" Maddox grumbled, watching the pack carefully.

"See to it Sheila and none of her wolves interfere."

"I will take you to Rosalin," Carver said, raising his white T-shirt above his head and tossing it to the ground.

Claire removed the jean jacket she wore, letting it fall to the ground before following Carver and removing her shoes.

"Will you run with us?" she asked.

I unbuttoned the black coat and handed it to Lenorre with my gun and holster. She offered her arm and I braced myself, kicking off the boots. The wolf wanted to run with them, wanted to bond with them, wanted to find Rosalin. I dropped my shields and flung open the doors that held the wolf inside. Generally, my shifts were slower and more careful. If they were fast, I still felt them, felt my bones popping, spine lengthening, felt every part of my body changing, but this…it was quick, so quick. One moment my body was changing, clothes tore, and the next I rose on all fours, white paws stark against the ground. Carver's blue and gold eyes met mine from the black mask of his wolf's face. Claire bumped up against me. Her fur was a rich brown with sprinkles of cream and white. Her eyes were the color of pine.

I pushed up against Carver, encouraging him to lead the way. He threw his head back and howled, turning on all fours like a horse about to charge into battle. He lowered his snout, and darted in the opposite direction that I'd entered. I followed him, the earth gliding under my paws, my nails ticking on twigs and bits of grass.

Someone grabbed my tail and I spun, growling a chastisement.

Claire gave a little whimper, but practically skipped around me.

I lowered my head and snapped at her ankle. She bolted ahead, catching up with Carver.

Carver led the group at a full out run. We darted through the trees, low enough we didn't have to worry about hanging branches.

I was passing a tall oak when something hit my side, slamming me up against the tree.

A furred body galloped past. I pushed off the earth and kept going, catching up to the black wolf that had collided into me. The wolf turned its head, amethyst eyes meeting mine with a look of mischief.

I knew Zaphara could shape-shift. It was one of her abilities as full-blooded fey, but I hadn't known she could choose the form of a wolf.

As if hearing my thoughts, her laughter rang in my head again.

Oh, you bitch.
I projected the thought at her, knocking my body against hers, feeling our fur and muscles move together.

The wolf liked that.

Zaphara nipped at my ear and I ducked my head, making her miss.

I have my moments
.

A few too many, I think.

At that, she laughed, offering a delighted and carefree yip to go along with the ringing in my head.

Carver made a sharp right and we followed through a break of tall, unkempt grass. Zaphara's furred body moved against mine, her paws hitting the ground in synchronicity with mine. I closed my eyes, mirroring the flow of her body.

Kassandra.

Hmm?

You're up my ass, witch.

I opened my eyes and backed off, pushing myself to catch up with Carver and Claire.

It didn't take long until I felt Zaphara's warm body flowing alongside mine again, until I felt her melding into me.

I thought I was up your ass?

Little did I realize you were keeping it warm.

The long grass ended and we erupted in another clearing. Carver stood over a body-sized mound of dirt and whimpered. He pawed at the dirt, starting to dig.

He looked at me and pointed his snout at the mound. Claire started frantically digging with him.

I didn't think. I didn't need to think. I just knew and started digging.

Sheila had buried Rosalin alive.

CHAPTER 
eleven

e dug, dug until our paws were thick with dirt and soil.

We dug with a frenzy, throwing showers of dirt like rain behind and on each other. Twice, I had to shake my head to keep the loose dirt from falling into my eyes. I averted my ears, feeling them flatten against my skull. Zaphara dug beside me, black paws as dark with soil as mine were.

Whoever had buried Rosalin had patted the soil down, making it tight and unyielding. Carver shook his head, dirt falling from his obsidian snout.

"Too deep," he said in a guttural voice, stepping back.

Claire followed Carver's lead and stopped digging. "We can't just leave her."

"We're not going to." I kept digging.

Someone touched my furred shoulder. I turned to see Zaphara, kneeling in her clothes, her trench coat trailing on the ground. "Get back, Kassandra."

It did not surprise me to see her fully clothed. She had once taught me how to emerge from a raven shift fully clothed. Returning from a shift was different with magic. Once, she had told me she could teach me how to return from wolf-form clothed, but I had not gotten the hang of it. From what I understood, it had to do with simultaneously summoning the fey magic in my veins and the beast. So far, I'd gotten the hang of it with the raven. That was it.

"What are you going to do?"

"Call the earth."

I didn't question her. Zaphara's power was elemental in nature, and earth was just another element. I moved back from the small crater we'd managed to create. Zaphara put her stark palms flat on the soil and closed her eyes. She whispered something, words I did not understand. A cool breeze picked up, tangling its fingers in my fur. The waist-length tresses of Zaphara's hair swayed in that breeze, dancing lightly. She had not wasted magic materializing the clasp that had secured her hair when it was braided.

The cool breeze grew warm to my pricked ears and I took another step back.

A tremor rumbled through the earth.

Zaphara sank her fingers into the dirt as if they were knives. Her eyes flew open and I didn't need to see them to know they were power-filled, to know they burned with the intensity of the gemstones they mimicked.

She closed her fists around the dirt and raised her hands.

The earth gave one last shudder, strong enough that I had to space my paws out to keep from losing my balance.

The dirt above Rosalin jumped. It hung in the air above the dark cavity, hung as if someone had slipped an invisible sheet beneath it and was holding it there. Carver and Claire sank low to the ground, backing off in a sign of submission. Neither seemed willing to brave Zaphara's magic and crawl into the hole to retrieve Rosalin.

I caught Zaphara's glance. The amethyst jewels of her eyes flickered with power in the moonlit night, a burst of color in my vision.

"Get your wolf, Kassandra. I cannot hold this forever."

I stood on my hind legs, a few inches taller than in my human form, and climbed down into the well-dug grave.

I jerked the dark pillowcase from the head of the body at my feet. Rosalin's features came into view, eyes closed, mouth slack.

My heart leapt erratically in my chest. Memories swam to the surface: Memories of Timothy's body naked and exposed to the cool October night. Memories of his tanned skin slightly paled, of his eyes opened wide in death, of his lips half-parted.

"No."
She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. She was a werewolf, a shape-shifter. It took more than a little suffocation to kill us.

Timothy hadn't been dead, not truly. I tried to assure myself that's why my mind was reverting to that particular memory.

"Kassandra." Zaphara's voice was a distant reminder. I stopped thinking and scooped Rosalin's limp body into my arms, hauling her up. It was going to be difficult carrying her out, not because I couldn't carry her. I had the strength to carry her, but because even in wolf-form I wasn't exactly tall, not as tall as some of the others.

Carver was suddenly there, at the edge of the grave. He reached out with clawed fingers, grabbing the back of Rosalin's red T-shirt.

I heard it tear as he pulled her to the ground above.

Someone wrapped an arm around my waist and jerked me unceremoniously from the grave. The earth fell in a shower of dirt and stones, making a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard. I wasn't so sure it liked Zaphara playing with it.

Since when did the earth have a mind to care?

Zaphara's arm slipped from around my waist. Dark blood glinted on her hands in the moonlight.

"Nature is two-edged," she explained, obviously understanding the question in my eyes, even if they were the wolf's.

Carver made a noise, almost a grunt and I moved, the night blurring for a moment in my vision. I knelt with him beside Rosalin. She was on her side. The jeans she wore were torn and dirty. Her red T-shirt had been torn by Carver's claws in the back, although he hadn't meant to.

Her hands had been bound behind her back. I trailed a claw along the diminutive leather straps that encircled her wrists, holding them together. The leather crawled up her arms, cinched tight at her elbows.

I knew those bindings. I'd had firsthand experience of those bindings, and it had taken Lenorre to get me out of them.

Sheila Morris had used the same leather bindings that Lukas Morris had used on me when he'd kidnapped me. I couldn't break them; neither Carver nor Claire could break them either, because underneath the leather, they were laced with silver chain.

I touched Rosalin's shoulder and laid my ear against her chest. Her heart wasn't beating.

"Zaphara," my voice sounded a hell of a lot calmer than I felt.

She came, kneeling with us. She looked at the bindings. "I will untie them."

I nodded.

"Shift while I remove them. Your wolf is not yet lost, Kassandra, but you're going to have to breathe life back into her lungs."

I was pretty sure she was telling me I was going to have to give Rosalin CPR and couldn't very well do it while in wolf form. Against all my modesty, I closed my eyes and drew the night air into my lungs. I held it there, along with the image of the wolf in my mind. I didn't lure her back into the center of my body, I jerked her into it, or maybe, understanding what I knew, she went willingly. I do not know, but it felt as if my body caved in on itself, skin replaced fur, claws sank to nails. My bones clicked and crunched together like shifting gears, sliding back into place.

The air was cold and my skin was sticky, sticky like I'd been running and sweating profusely, but I was warm with the aftermath of the shift.

Zaphara had removed the leather straps at Rosalin's arms and laid her on her back. I knelt over her body and tried to remember something I'd been taught way too many years ago. I found the notch where her breastbone met her ribs, pressing down just enough to make sure that was in fact where I wanted to pump the heel of my hand. I reminded myself to be calm and gentle. It wouldn't do any good to accidentally break something just because I was panicking and unaware of my strength. I folded my right hand over my left, leaned over my hands, then pumped while counting silently in my head.

I plugged Rosalin's small nose, tilted her head back, pressed my mouth against her half-parted lips, and breathed into her.

I leaned over and listened. Nothing.

Compressions. Breath. Compressions. Breath. I did it again and again. If the others were looking at me, if they were watching me, I did not care. I fell into a sort of trance, following the beat of remembered training and the flow of my body.

I pressed my mouth against Rosalin's soft and yielding lips and when I breathed, I shoved my will into her body.

Wake up
, I thought calmly. Unnervingly calmly.
Damn it, Rosalin. Wake up.

I turned, about to resume compressions when her body jerked.

A long, ragged gasp of breath cut through the night. Carver gave a satisfied rumble. Claire offered a triumphant yip. Rosalin looked up at me, panic in her eyes. Her nails dug into my skin where she clutched my shoulder.

I could suddenly taste cool ginger on my tongue.

"Kassandra?"

I licked my lips, closing my eyes and breathing a sigh of relief. I whispered a silent prayer to the Morrigan.

Rosalin's nails dug more fiercely into my shoulder, threatening to pierce my skin. I could feel her hand shaking, trembling.

A sob fell from her lips. I had only seen Rosalin cry once, and once was enough. I caught her arm and pulled her in against my body, wrapping my arms around her. Her body shook, trembling all over with the memory of Sheila's abuse. I didn't need to be inside her head. I could smell the fear and shock coming off her. Carver bumped up against her and Claire came to us, offering the balm of their furred bodies, offering the scent of family.

I stroked Rosalin's messy auburn hair. "It's okay," I whispered. "You're safe now. Rosalin, you're safe now."

Rosalin buried her face in the bend of my neck, crying and trembling.

I met Zaphara's eyes over Rosalin's shoulder. The look on her face was pure venom. The wolf growled through me, a shudder of rage suffusing my body.

Rosalin's hand slid down my back, following the curve of my spine.

Her fingers brushed the top of my buttocks and I stiffened.

"Rosalin," I said, warning.

She drew back, eyes wide, tears glistening on her cheeks. "Not that I mind you being nude right now, but where are your clothes?"

"I just pulled you out of a grave, gave you CPR, and you're worried about my clothes?"

Her eyes were haunted. "I've been through worse," she said plainly, no emotion, nothing.

Another shudder of rage sailed through me.

I stood, pulling Rosalin's hands off my body.

"Kassandra." She touched my leg, gazing up at me and searching my face. "What are you doing?" Her eyes were wide with surprise. "What are you going to do? You can't possibly…"

"Oh yes," I said, words dripping with heat and the wolf's power. "I can."

"Kassandra," Zaphara's amused voice made me turn. She held her hand out, trench coat dangling from her fingertips. Without the coat, the tight black long-sleeved T-shirt she wore and dark jeans looked glued over her long body.

"Thanks," I said, taking the trench and slipping it on over my bare skin. I buttoned the coat to my knees. It was a little long, but I didn't care. In fact, had she not offered, I probably wouldn't have even given the nudity a second thought until it was too late. Just the thought that in my anger, I'd completely overlooked that tidbit unnerved me, but I let it go. Pissed off sounded like a better state.

Rosalin said, "Kassandra, please, don't do this. Don't do what I think you're going to do."

I looked over my shoulder. "I told you once, if she laid a hand on you again, I'd break everyone of her Goddess-damned fingers. If there's one thing you should know about me, Rosalin, it's this: I keep my promises."