Page 32 of The Blood Queen

The wolf stalked silently, his large paws barely disturbing the ice-crusted pine needles carpeting the ground. The stubble of shorn grass. I knew the family who lived in this cabin, remote in a northern valley within Sentinel Falls territory. A widowed father and his young son. I would whisper their names when I was done. Commend their souls to whatever gods still blessed the wolves. Our history spoke of a peaceful place when we died, a lush forest with a glorious blue sky and meadows during summer. Warm dens in the winter. Where friends and family would meet again.

I hoped that history was as true as the shit-show filled with kings and queens.

Wished it for those I knew and loved, tried to protect.

But for myself, after what I’d done and would do, I wasn’t sure if peace waited for me.

The boards outside the ruined open door creaked beneath the wolf’s weight. Light slanting through the windows reflected off the table edge, glittering on the festive Christmas tree decorated with paper chains and bits of silver. I’d lost track of the days, weeks. Hunting, killing, doing Set’s bidding, our joint revenge for Julien. For the others. Cybelle, Njal, Kazamir. Too many to list now, when the wolf needed to focus.

But it was jarring, seeing that poignant tree, the hope for celebration. Even for my wolf. He stood, unmoving as he scented the air, scanned the shadows. The large, flayed lump by the table was the father. A smaller body lay near a child’s cot.

The sated ferals had sprawled around the living area, on the floor, on a couch. The first one to move received the only mercy. My wolf attacked, his canines digging in, crushing the feral’s throat. He was a fraction of my wolf’s weight. His wasted body crumpled like dried leaves with his mind so far gone, he didn’t resist. I thought he welcomed death, an end to his torment.

But the other two ferals were not as lucky. They were aware enough to snarl, howl. Fight back like maddened cowards. When my wolf was done, nothing much was left.

I shifted long enough to walk nude through the cabin, searching for what I needed. Materials to make a torch. Clean blankets dragged from a cupboard.

I covered the bodies of the father and son. Paid tribute to them, their memories. The father had brought the son to Azul for the pack meeting after the Gathering attack. He said he wanted his son to understand pack history, loyalty, take pride in our lifestyle. Honor the alphas and the traditions.

Slowly, I said their names. Touched my fingers to my heart, then the pack bond. Walked outside, lit the torch and stood silently. As the cabin burned, I said the words: one to light the way, one to break the bonds, one to sanctify the dead.

Then I shifted into the wolf and let him take control.

The wolf found the stream and plunged his muzzle into the frigid water, washing away the bitterness of rotten blood and failure. We’d not reached the cabin in time to save that small family. The kills had still been fresh, less than an hour old. I shuddered.

The wolf snarled; he was on an edge we’d known before, one filled with restlessness and distress. Noa had soothed him. She’d been able to see the wolf even though I stood there in human form. Been able to separate us—unheard of—and more than once, I’d wondered if that wasn’t what Amal was attempting to do. To find some way to first separate the wolf from the man, then destroy the wolf.

It would be like losing a vital part of yourself. Being left bereft.

Wading into the water, the wolf did not stop until he was up to his belly, needing to wash the gore from his pelt, from his skin. Wash away the taint. We’d been hunting and killing creatures for weeks, but the hybrids were harder to find. Either we’d decimated the numbers, or Barend—and Amal—kept the living under lock and key.

At least it might make the winter more tolerable. Wolves clustered together for the warmth and companionship, coming into the settlements, or places like Azul and Sentinel Falls. From the reports I’d read, the repairs in Sentinel Falls were sufficient for more families to return. The older, renovated houses were more than comfortable. But while Azul’s repairs were ongoing, many refugees sheltering in Westvale had opted to remain in the Carmag. I understood the need for safety. Normalcy. For families to shop, go out to restaurants, listen to the music that always flowed through Anson’s seat of power. The artists, the Farmer’s Market, the laughter.

I could not give them that—but I could give them one less hybrid to worry about. Be the Alpha of Sentinel Falls. The Dread Lord. Atoning for the sins of the kings. Facing a blood queen’s rage. I’d stand at the front line. Use the power I’d inherited for this one purpose.

I would protect the pack. Live up to the honor of Alpha, accept every responsibility. Despite the whispered secrets and prophesies, the costs, I would not stop. Not even when I felt the way the wolf felt—hollow. Disconnected, as if it didn’t matter which body we inhabited. And each mercy we delivered laid another rock on the grave of remembrance. Of what we’d once been… before. When the world had been sane.

The wolf waded back to shore with a furious shake of his head. I’d been sheltering in a cave. It wasn’t far, and a comfort to the wolf. As I approached, a shadow fluttered—one of the tree nymphs, leaving an offering of food, nuts wrapped in leaves. A silvery fish pulled from the stream. As silently as she’d appeared, she faded into the foliage with a flutter of a pale blue dress. Her tree was close by, but I didn’t know where.

I shifted into human form, my muscles stiff, and honored her gift with a nod. Gathered the leafy package, careful not to defile it by smearing the feral blood still coating my hands. I would wash inside, shift back, and let the wolf curl up in a corner to sleep. But as I entered the dim cave, the unexpected light brought me to a tense halt.

“You’re back,” Fee said, smiling before he turned toward the stove that hadn’t existed when I left. Nor had the kitchen holding the stove, or the furniture. The wide bed buried in blankets, and a door cracked open, leading to a bathroom.

At my silence, Fee waved a casual hand. “I made some improvements. I hope you don’t mind.”

I walked to the wooden table and set down the nymph’s gift; one nut rolled from the leaves. “You’re staying long?”

“Only dropping in.”

The fragrance from the stove told me he was stirring chicken soup. His spoon clanged against the pot. Steam rose in a faint gray whirl. Homey things, what most took for granted. Thought of as a nuisance.

I’d almost forgotten what a normal existence felt like, all those little details I’d never noticed until Noa entered my life.

“Aren’t you too old to live like this?” Fee added at my silence.

I shook my head as I stalked past him, heading for the half-open door. “Is there hot water?”

“Unlimited supply.”

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