The Unraveling, Volume One of The Luminated Threads: A Steampunk Fantasy Romance (4 page)

The four of them remained silent. This was bad. A few of these beasts, over a few nights of cutting through plant stalks, and Wellspring Collective wouldn’t have a viable crop left. Or sales…or cash…or workers.

“This proves it can’t be sentient,” Jac said. “Nor an animacambire. Only a ’cambire gone bad pulls that kind of crap, ruining a crop so the plants die and the vegetables can’t ripen.”

Daeryn swallowed. “Can’t be a bad ’cambire, or even a small pack of ’em,” he said. “Not when every farm north and east of here reports them. The entire north half of the Farmlands shire.” This was what ruined farms, like Owen had said the hare invasion of ‘39 did when the whole valley almost starved. Drove farmers and their hands to town jobs, and Outside. Many of them didn’t return. After nearly three years, Daeryn wasn’t just a hand, but a vested collective member. This farm was also his, just as it belonged in part to Jac, Maraquin, Zar…all of the longtimers.

If Wellspring went under, he wouldn’t just be seeking a new position, but a new home.

Jac sank down onto a log. “You lot should be thanking me. I ran that thing right off the property, tail between its legs, then chased it farther than the beast ever took it into its head to run on those short legs.”

“’Cept it doesn’t have a tail,” muttered Zar. Now calmer, the man in his late twenties had returned to his usual sparse remarks.

“But you didn’t catch it.” Daeryn wasn’t asking. He knew. Otherwise, she’d have the body. And they needed that body to figure out what it was. To stop it…them.

Jac glared at Zar before glancing around. “Got a better look though. It has a rabbit’s bulkier body with the agility of a stoat. I’d guess a cross, but it’s furrier than either, making it hard to pick out the features. And it escaped down a burrow.”

“Great,” Maraquin said. “So they’ve made dens—”

“No.” Jac shook her head. “A rabbit burrow, one with the faintest scent of something I’ve never smelled.” She jerked her thumb northward. “Come on.”

They all shifted, and Jac led them a couple of hundred feet around a rock outcrop and down a dry ravine. To Daeryn’s polecat nose, the burrow in the bank was exactly as she’d described: overwhelmingly rabbit, but with a trace of that other scent lurking around the damaged crops, that…something else.

Maraquin snorted the air from her nostrils, took another whiff, but shook her head when she changed. “I smell it, but have no idea.”

Zar backed from the hole, looking the most puzzled. “This sounds stupid, but it reminds me of my old granny’s house.”

“What?” Jac said. “Your gran lived in a rabbit warren?”

The group broke into laughter, albeit nervous laughter.

He shrugged. “I weren’t more than a kitten when she died, but I practically lived there. Would rather not of, with her always shovin’ us aside with her broom, cleanin’ each dropped crumb. Had floors you could eat off of.”

“That beast is long gone out a second or third burrow exit.” Daeryn waved toward Wellspring. “We’ve left our jobs unattended far too long.”

Jac rolled her eyes. “Terrent will have picked his fox tail bare—”

“Damn.” Daeryn started to change, then stopped to tell them, “I asked him to fetch Miz Gere if I didn’t return in fifteen minutes.”

“I suppose I’ll have to explain why we’re off-property.” Jac stomped her foot.

Zar snorted. “Not that it was your idea to ignore her policies, or our safety procedures, or any common sense—”

Daeryn didn’t wait to hear the rest. He dropped to all fours and started running.

Chapter four

The
chug, chug, chug
of the steam tractor reached his ears long before Daeryn broke out of the woods. Too late. Terrent had probably scampered for help the minute he’d told Zar where they’d gone. But news of the most recent way the sharp-toothed pests were damaging crops should distract Miz Gere from the nuisance of being woken and the team hunting off-property.

Daeryn emerged just when the tractor’s engine shut down. The dying sound marked the location up the hill—

He groaned. More than thirty farmhands swung lanterns over the northern fields. Terrent had brought in a damned search party. With lights. Every pest in the place should have fled by now. Daeryn certainly wanted to. Better than facing Miz Gere. Likely she was the tall figure rising from the seat behind the driver, but he couldn’t make out her face. Or attitude.

“The team’s back!” a man called. “Over at the turnips.”

Wellspring’s dayworkers converged on Daeryn, mainly growers, but also the three diurnal guards. He blinked in the lantern light, the flashes of color at the edges of his nocturnal vision blinding him. He halted. The rest of the nocturnal team caught up, their nervous excitement besieging his other ’cambire senses. Beside him, Jac growled, as did Maraquin a second after her alpha.

Calls rang out. “Is everyone accounted for?”

“Any injuries?”

“What’s this creature look like? Who caught it?”

“They’ve all turned up, Mistress Gere,” shouted the leader of the day guards. “No one’s limping, so I’d say we’re done here.”

Daeryn put his head down and shoved between several human legs. He wasn’t shifting while surrounded. The others followed, and together the team stalked up the dirt road to meet the tractor and Wellspring’s owner.

Miz Gere must have dressed quickly since she wore her split trouser-skirt and gumboots, but the high collar of a flannel nightdress peeked above her woolen wrap. Instead of being pinned in a roll, her brown hair fell down her back in a braid. Still, she acted her usual formidable self while scanning their group, taller than most of them even if they’d been in human form. Her gaze lit on the dark-furred wolves, Zar’s wide whiskered face, then came to rest on Daeryn, her brow raised in the same implied question she’d posed to the others:
How are you?

Daeryn nodded.

“It’s late,” she announced. “Growers, return to your beds. I’ll fill you in during the morning report. Day guards, please remain.”

A few of the growers persisted with questions about the crop damage. A mistake.

“What can you do now?” she snapped. “Morning is time enough, and I want this team back on patrol as soon as possible. Now go.” She took a breath and waved to the night team. “Robes are in the cart.”

The males hung back to let the wolves grab clothes first, then trotted to the cart behind the tractor. Rivley Slipwing, a tall, lean fellow, sauntered up as Daeryn tied his sash. Of course his best friend, and a fellow ’cambire, had responded to the call for help. He’d probably remembered the robes for when they’d be surrounded by humans. Daeryn wouldn’t have expected less, and would do the same if their positions were reversed.

“Riv. Thanks for coming out.” Daeryn nodded back to Miz Gere. “Rarely hear her so agitated.”

Rivley waved a dismissive hand, though his short hair stood on end. “More worried. Though I can’t say the same for half the growers.”

Everyone was on edge. How could they not be? The collective was losing money every night. “Well, they can talk to Jac. She’ll take ’em down a notch,” Daeryn muttered.

Rivley grunted in agreement, and they stood for a minute watching the dozens of growers and their lanterns disappear over the hillside. Every farmworker had responded. Daeryn slowly shook his head, but held his tongue. What happened over the next week would determine the harvest outcome. Their outcome.

He wouldn’t say anything to Rivley just yet, but he couldn’t stop his mind from rolling through the “what ifs.” If he had to look for work, he’d probably have to do it alone this time. They’d found guard positions together, but Riv had moved into a mechanic’s assistant position he wouldn’t—and shouldn’t—abandon. And frankly, because of everything else his friend had done for him, Daeryn couldn’t ask Rivley to leave. It’d be hard for both of them to find work anywhere except in an advanced agricultural operation like Wellspring. And returning to their home territory of Rockbridge wasn’t an option. At least not yet.

Downhill from the tractor, Jac had already planted herself before Miz Gere, her voice pitched low enough for only the boss’ ears. Maraquin and Zar joined them, and Terrent edged up to the group. Leaving Rivley by the tractor, Daeryn joined his team at the point of Jac describing their arrival in the woods. She skipped deftly over the row and continued with scenting the burrow.

While Miz Gere listened, her gaze roved the team members and came to rest on Daeryn. A little furrow sat in her brow, but didn’t make him flinch. Miz Gere was his first formal employer and, though he had none to compare, a good one. He and Rivley hadn’t known what to expect when they’d left Rockbridge, but they’d found more than work at Wellspring. Miz Gere was business-smart, but better, people-smart—and by that he included all of the Basin’s versions of
people
. Even with the crop loss, she’d be fair to her employees, vested workers and new hires alike.

Jac ended her terse report. She prompted Zar to add more to the scent description, but the gruff man seemed to have spent all his day’s words back in the woods.

“Clean,” he said with a shrug.

“Anything else?” Miz Gere’s gaze swept across them.

Maraquin noted her section’s disturbance had turned up empty. Daeryn added his shed-scratching incident.

When he finished, Terrent spoke up. “Running down that beast weren’t a decision all would have agreed to.”

Miz Gere’s brow shot up. Daeryn’s did, too. Terrent never spoke at team reports. Though not the smallest ’cambire—Daeryn had that dubious distinction—the fox boy had shown little confidence since his arrival at the start of summer.

With hands fisted, Jac rounded on him, a low rumble lacing her first words. “And I suppose you’d let them pass, take inventory of the destruction, hold a committee meeting to make a decision. Meanwhile, they’ll gather their fellows and damage us threefold this evening before we have a chance to tighten our defenses. I sent the message not to mess with us.”

Terrent stared back, his lips pressed firmly together. He held his ground, but clearly he wasn’t about to say more. Daeryn didn’t blame him. But then again… Daeryn leaned forward, the slight motion drawing everyone’s gaze.

“Not you, too?” Jac snapped before he could speak.

He lifted his chin. “Yes.” He waited a beat, and when all she did was cross her arms in a show of exasperation, he continued. “Your departure with Terrent left the rest of us in the dark, the checkpoints abandoned, and Zar alone a mile away. With pests you claim have teeth like axes. Terrent deciding to return was a good decision—for the team. Sure, you found out a bit more about a pest, but was it worth risking the rest of us?”

Jac huffed out a breath. “Next time, I’ll communicate and cover our tails.”

But she wouldn’t. Jac would snap out impulsive orders and expect them to be followed, or dive into headlong chases, endangering herself and others. Things she’d never do if Owen were here to lead.

“Look,” Daeryn said. “All I’m saying is with these beasts afoot, having each other’s back is our top priority. Without Owen, all of us”—he looked around at his teammates—“have got to pay extra heed, not just Jac. We fight, and live, as a team.” For seconds, none of them said a thing. Then, one head bobbed in agreement, setting off all the others.

“Got it,” Jac said. “We’d better resume our patrols.” With a toss of her hair, she turned to go.

Miz Gere put a hand on her shoulder. “A moment more, please.”

Jac met her gaze, chin lifted.

“You’re a large ’cambire, a smart fighter, one well-suited for the action you undertook.”

That tone. The other shoe was about to drop.

“So I’m sure you’ll save me the trouble at this early hour of repeating Daeryn’s points about teamwork.”

Jac nodded. “The crops—”

“The crops are not lives.” Miz Gere’s glare cut off the excuses.

No one made a sound, least of all Jac, who had the good sense to just nod this time.

Miz Gere dropped her hand and crossed her arms. “I can grow more crops. But not people. This team makes me proud, functioning so well together, putting wholehearted effort to the patrols, and even plotting to solve new problems like this mysterious pest. Owen left you short, but you five devised a solution, so I never thought to intervene. Now our harvest is”—she drew a breath—“not a normal one. With landholders reporting an increase in the vermin across the northern Farmlands shire, and no date set for Owen’s return, I see the need for an interim change.”

Daeryn frowned. It was late in the season to get another nocturnal guard, a decent one at least. But wait. The lady hadn’t said
addition
, she’d said
change
. Which meant—

“Finally,” Jac muttered.

“Temporary, mind you,” Miz Gere said slowly as she looked around the group. “But until Owen returns, Daeryn, would you fill his place as team lead?”

chapter Five

Daeryn’s innards froze.
Miz Gere had no idea what she was asking. To again be in charge of a pack—a team—after what had happened at OverEdge—

“
What?
” Jac snapped.

He forced his ’cambire form not to respond to the agitation spreading from the wolf, and instead kept his focus on Miz Gere, who still held his gaze. Jac’s rumble died off when the owner failed to acknowledge her.

Back home in Rockbridge, a ’cambire never refused an Elder’s request. Miz Gere was a Farmlands shire Elder, in addition to his employer. Slowly, Daeryn nodded.

“We should add a morning communication,” Miz Gere said. “Daeryn, please leave patrol fifteen minutes early and meet Famil up at the changing house.”

He glanced back to the leader of the diurnal guards. The lanky woman gave a nod. Someone else moved. Rivley. Good. He’d like his friend’s take on how this was going to work with Jac. Daeryn’s gaze slid to the wolf. Her yellow eyes sparked fire.

Hell
.

“Review the night’s events before the day team goes on duty,” Miz Gere said. “After, I’d like your report, with any change in plans you and Famil have discussed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Very well.” Miz Gere paused, and when she spoke again, her tone softened. “Thank you all for your efforts tonight. I know you’ll resolve the problem.” She walked through them, splitting the three males from the fluffy-haired females, and stopped to ask the day guards to ride with her in the cart.

Within minutes, the tractor drove over the hill and quiet descended on the fields.

Jac swung around to Daeryn, her face squaring to canine. “I don’t see why she picked you.”

Zar muttered, “I do,” at the same time Terrent said, “Dae’s a fine choice.”

Maraquin shifted her position closer to Jac, but she kept her gaze on the ground.

Great Creator, this could turn ugly
. But he had support. Miz Gere had picked him. “We don’t have time for talk,” Daeryn said louder than he meant to. And it wasn’t just the volume, but a tone he’d nearly forgotten. His old pack voice.

He threw off his robe. “Go to your sections and keep your eyes and noses alert for any sign of the pests. Spot-check my section at last rounds to cover my early departure to meet Famil.”

A murmur of general agreement sounded. Terrent tossed his robe aside and dropped to all four paws with his shift. He ran eastward like he couldn’t get away fast enough. Seconds later, Zar added his robe, and with far more grace and dignity, he loped to the south. But when Maraquin followed suit, a low growl rumbled from Jac.

Daeryn lunged. The change overtook him fast. Faster than Jac dropped her robe, he was on her, sinking his claws and reaching his teeth to her—

Her cry turned to growl and fur sprouted. Her growing ruff pushed off his grasp, and when she twisted, he fell to her rump. She swung around, snarling.

No
. He bared his teeth. A fury of yipping broke from his throat just before he leaped at her head. She flinched away, and he fell to the road, rolling to his feet again, ready to bite her—

The wolf raced north at a dead run.

Panting, Daeryn watched her disappear. A throat cleared behind him.

Rivley.

Daeryn changed to human form, but didn’t turn when Rivley stopped beside him.

“Tell me you didn’t mark her.”

Daeryn scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I didn’t.” Though he’d landed by instinct on her left shoulder. The shoulder a pack alpha marked. “My canines changed first,” he whispered. “The rest just… After her challenging growl, I couldn’t help myself, and don’t bother reminding me this team setting is no place for pack authority. I know that. I was that close—” He parted his forefinger and thumb a few inches to demonstrate, but his gaze jerked to Rivley’s shoulder.

His right hand was wrapped across his chest, covering the spot on his left shoulder that last bore Daeryn’s mark three years ago. With a flinch, Rivley let his hand slide down to cross his arms. He cleared his throat again. “And?”

“She twisted away before I could bite her.”

Rivley’s breath released in relief.

“I feel the same. Damn. Imagine tomorrow’s scene when I would’ve had to follow through and finish the marking.” It’d be a struggle for a polecat to hold down an unwilling wolf, let alone add a second bite to the mark and establish his dominance. But he’d have done it. Tomorrow, or soon, before the first bite healed.

Rivley banged his fist to his forehead, and an irritated
click, click, click
slipped from deep in his throat. “I wouldn’t have let you. She’s a bad choice to try to bring under pack rule.”

Daeryn snorted. “And you would have a newly appointed leader back off? You wouldn’t have liked it, but I’d have to finish what I started. The team would never let me live it down. Jac wouldn’t either.”

Suppressing a groan, Rivley pivoted and paced a ways up the road.

Daeryn clenched his fists. Let Riv grouse about it. They weren’t actually part of a pack anymore. He had no say—even a beta’s advisory word—about what Daeryn did.

But the farther Rivley walked, the less sure Daeryn felt about that. He still wanted Rivley’s advice. Those old bonds called him. He’d nearly marked Jac, and now his ’cambire form itched to do the same to Rivley.

Yet it made no sense in this more civilized setting. Back home, their dual human and animal lives intertwined more closely. But working among other ’cambire species as equals on the collective, Daeryn could never accept Rivley’s beta help for a problem within his work team.

Finally, Rivley turned back. “I get it,” he said. “You’ll do what’s needed to maintain the team leadership and your service to Mistress Gere, but I beg you, consider every other
option before marking her.”

Now that Daeryn was cooling down, he knew Riv was right. Marking—a
complete
marking of two bites—forged an unbreakable connection between an alpha and a packmate for months. But that was for
pack
. He couldn’t force Jac to comply with his leadership on the work team by marking her. He didn’t need that kind of trouble. Not with Jac. He met Rivley’s gaze. “What other options? Punching a girl?”

“In no way is Jac a girl. And I wasn’t suggesting fisticuffs, though the wolf won’t hesitate to land her paws on you. Or her mark. Fight her with words. You’re better at it than most of us.”

“That’s just the point.” His stomach knotted more. “Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m not the right person to lead us when Jac is here, in her great wolf form, ready to take it on with a ferocity I don’t have, that my ’cambire isn’t…big enough to dish out.”

“What? Not this again. Your grumbles about how big the predators are in the lowlands are wasted breath.”

But if he’d been a bigger predator, a better leader back in Rockbridge—what had he been thinking to say yes? “She tops me, in temperament, too. If she can’t fight me tooth and nail, it’ll be—”

Rivley hit him.

Daeryn stumbled back a few feet, putting a hand to the pain in his shoulder.

Rivley sprang forward, his hair standing on end. “Who the heck am I talking to?”

What the hell?
Daeryn stared at him.

He waved a fist. “You’re a great leader. As I’ve told you repeatedly, I am more than willing to be pack again, any time you ask.”

Daeryn raised his hands, palms out, and stepped away. “And how will that look here, Riv? You’re a bird, and not even a large one.”

“Thanks,” he hissed. Another series of clicks escaped. He spun and kicked at the dirt mounded at the field edge.

“Sorry,” Daeryn whispered. “That was a terrible thing to say. I’d be proud to have you by my side again. It’s just…this isn’t the situation for it.”

“Then no situation is?” Rivley spat. “We’ll never move forward on anything?”

He knew what Riv meant. Daeryn’s fingers grazed the spiraled silver piercing on his belly. The talisman, and the blood spilled with it, marked their sworn agreement beyond just the physical perforations around both of their navels. The centuries-old Rockbridge tradition bound them, stronger than a mating would. But it also restricted them until the gildan, a Basin spell of obligation, was fulfilled. A restriction Rivley had made quite clear he was ready to be free of.

“Look, it’s not about who’s the biggest and the baddest,” Rivley said. “It’s who has a
personality most suited to lead.”

Daeryn nodded, though his shoulders stayed slumped.

“Why do you think Mistress Gere picked you? You’re a natural. The pack back home said the same. The lady recognized it. Don’t let your ’cambire override your head.”

“It’s the only way I can think to keep Jac in line,” he snarled, and bounced away a few steps. “If she so much as…
hell
.” He shook off the agitation. “I’m strung up from that asinine chase she led us on, and from not marking her when I wanted to take the wolf down a notch.” Daeryn wiped a hand over his face. “Sorry to take it out on you. My worry shouldn’t be Jac, but these new pests appearing in the Basin. I couldn’t say no to Miz Gere. She’s counting on the team...and counting on me to do my part to protect the harvest.”

“Then do it. Prove to her she made a good choice. Prove it to yourself.”

Daeryn rolled his head back and stared at the stars dotting the dark sky.
Is this my chance?
Should I?

He’d already said yes. To back out would be damned wrong. He’d let down Miz Gere, and the teammates who’d already stood by him. Worse, he’d let down Rivley, who’d maintained an unwavering faith in him despite waiting three years for Daeryn to even start to address the gildan lessons with which the Rockbridge Elders had shackled them. Still, an edge of doubt gnawed at his gut.

If anything happened under his leadership, it was his fault. Again. Rivley may have countered every argument Daeryn threw out, but he couldn’t deny their Elders had determined he’d made a mistake while pack alpha. And somehow Rivley, his beta, had also been blamed.

Daeryn squeezed his eyes shut and sent a quick plea to the Great Creator:
Let this work.
If—when—he proved his leadership, then there was no reason he shouldn’t move on to resolving their gildan. Then he lowered his gaze and clapped a hand to Rivley’s shoulder. “I’ll do it.”