“He said he’d be some time dear, but that he’d probably return by supper.”
I scowled in annoyance. Now that I’d removed the evil smelling object from her notice, she’d reverted to calling me dear again. Julia called everyone dear. I knew she wasn’t trying to be patronising but any endearments of any sort wound me up. Duck, hen, chick, even Red as Tom insisted on calling me, all annoyed me. Mack was fine. If you were Julia or John, you could get away with Mackenzie, but woe betide anyone else who tried that one. My red hair wasn’t the only fiery thing about me. I was pretty sure that from the moment of my arrival at the keep, the whole pack had been aware of my volatile temper. And it wasn’t entirely my own fault that I’d fly off the handle at times. Despite my mother’s last words to me to keep my bloodfire a secret, I’d mentioned it to Betsy, a werelynx shifter the same age as me, when we’d pricked each other’s fingers at age nine and sworn a blood pact of friendship to each other. I think at the time I’d just been happy to finally have found a friend. She’d vowed – and still to this day continued to assert the same, I might add - that she’d felt the fire inside my blood when we’d pressed our pinkies together. And, naturally, a scant three hours later the whole pack knew that I had a strange heat inside me that shaped my emotions and often directed my actions. I was pretty sure that most pack members were under the impression that it was a particular side effect of being a puny red-haired human, and my limited experience outside the shifter world meant that I couldn’t genuinely say otherwise. Certainly, since that day, I’d learned to never entirely trust Betsy with a secret again. John, for his part, had merely raised an eyebrow and gently suggested that I made sure the fire didn’t burn me out. Ha bloody ha.
I murmured something back at Julia and headed for the kitchen, hoping I could find something to eat and avoid having to sit down to pretend to enjoy Johannes’, the resident pack chef’s, cooking with the rest of the pack later on. Betsy herself was in there washing a plate. She arched an eyebrow at me.
“You smell….interesting, Mack.” She looked behind me. “Is Tom with you?”
I shrugged. “He was but he disappeared when Julia started harping on at me.”
She looked oddly disappointed for a second before returning to the sink. “Are you coming to the Hanging Bull for a jar tonight?”
I opened the fridge and dug inside for some bread and a hunk of cheese before sitting down at the large scarred wooden table. “Nah. I want to hit the library and check out a few things.”
“Your young policeman might be there.”
“He’s not ‘my’ anything.” I started sawing at the creamy cheese. I’d had a very
brief affair with the local copper. His name was, and I’m not joking here, Nick. It hadn’t lasted long. I’d had the feeling that he was looking for a little wife to keep the home fires burning whilst he saved the village of Trevathorn and its environs from dangerous washing line thieves and the local drunks. That was never going to be me. In fact, as nice as he was, I rather felt that I’d had a lucky escape.
I finished making my sandwich and started chewing it down. Unfortunately, Johannes took that moment to enter the kitchen. He saw me eating and gave me a baleful look.
“I…er…I’ll be here for dinner, Johannes, I just need a little snack,” I said hastily.
He humphed grumpily and began peeling potatoes. “Dinna think that you can pull tha wool o’er my eyes, dahling.”
“I’m not! I’ve been out all day, didn’t have lunch. I wouldn’t miss your cooking for the world,” I swore, hating myself for the lie - and Johannes for the endearment.
Betsy choked back a guffaw. “Just make sure you give her double portions to make up for that lost lunch, J.” She leaned over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. I forced a smile. It’d serve me right, I supposed. She winked at me on the way out and I pulled a face at her in return.
Once the door closed behind her, I rested my head on my hands and cocked an eye up at Johannes. I knew that whilst his cooking might not tempt my palate, he was a fount of knowledge and, unlike Betsy, wouldn’t go opening his mouth to the others. I debated whether to pump him for more details on this afternoon’s revelations or not. It might save me a few hours of digging around in the library. “What do you know about wichtleins, J?”
He looked up, somewhat appeased that I was asking him for information. “Scary bleeders those ones, “ he said slowly. “Seen one ‘ave ye?”
I shook my head. “Just a…rumour.”
He sat down across from me. “Wichtleins ur trouble. Mah grandfaither saw one once, doon the mines. Knocked three times befaur disappearing. He hud enough guid sense in ‘im tae get the hell oot of Dodge. Less than ten minutes efter the roof collapsed ‘n twenty three men were kill’t.”
That gibed with what I’d originally thought. “So they stay underground?”
“For the maist part. If’n ye see one on the surface thae, ye’d better skedaddle. ‘parently they on’y dae that when thair’s summat big abrewin.”
“What about tokens? Do they usually leave signs behind them?”
“Thay like tha mines and th’underground so often stanes.”
“Stanes?” I was momentarily puzzled.
“Aye, lass. Wee hard pebbles.”
Oh, stones. Now I got it.
Johannes regarded me gravely. “Stanes as smooth as silk and black as a witch’s heart. Find on o’ them and running for the hills willna do you ony guid. Cos then yer card’s marked.”
But I hadn’t found the stone – John had. I pursed my lips, worried. Perhaps I should go after him just in case. I knew he could take care of himself but a harbinger of doom directed at him in particular was not good news.
I thought of one more thing. “What about bits of material?”
“Material? Nae that Ah’ve heard, lass.” He leaned back and folded his arms and frowned at me with a serious expression on his weathered face. “You teck care of yersel’ min’?”
I nodded. I appreciated that he hadn’t asked my why I was suddenly so interested in wichtleins but the gnawing worry for John ate at me. “I don’t think I’ll be eating dinner after all, J.”
Concern flickered in his eyes. “Aye, mebbe best not, love.”
I stood up to leave. “It’s Mack.”
He looked puzzled. “Eh?”
“Never mind.”
I headed for the door, checking the straps on my arms that held my daggers as I left. I did briefly consider picking up a bow and some silver tipped arrows as well. The shifters wouldn’t go near silver, but it didn’t affect me and was a powerful weapon against anything not wholly of this world. Chances were I’d make a mistake and end up hitting John himself instead though. I was a mean shot but I knew enough of the vagaries of prophecies of doom that they were as likely to come about by your attempted actions to stop them as anything else. Perhaps it had been clear that the wichtlein’s token wasn’t intended for John though because he would surely have known what it portended and how it worked, and acted more appropriately concerned for himself. He’d certainly known enough to know that it was to be taken seriously. I mean, after all, he was calling the Brethren in for goodness’ sake. He wasn’t anyone’s fool.
Yet despite taking the sudden appearance of the stone seriously, John hadn’t appeared that immediately worried about his own safety this afternoon. He’d been laughing and joking around in fact. I paused. Or had he? I tried to think whether it had been both of us laughing about the repeated bunny adventures or whether it had just been me. Damnit.
I stopped to grab my trusty hunters’ backpack and leather jacket to stave off the cold night air on my way out. Hearing Julia moving about on the first floor, I called up the stairs to her. “Julia?”
There were a few thumps and I could hear someone cursing. Her head eventually peered down from above the shiny first floor banister. “Yes, dear?”
“Something’s wrong. Where did John say he was going to?”
My question hung in the air for a heartbeat and something flickered in her face. Fear?
“He didn’t say.” There was another moment’s silence before she cleared her throat. “Should I muster the troops?” Her voice was quiet.
I thought about it for a second. Perhaps I was just being paranoid. But if I wasn’t and John was really in danger then he’d need all the help we could give him. I’d rather look like an idiot and have him safe than risk the fact that he might be hurt. “That might be best. I’m going to head for the beach by the old cottages. Get the others to fan out from here and see if they can find him. “
Julia lifted back her head and roared. It was unbelievable that such a small woman could create such a racket. Almost immediately the sounds of shifters running for the hall could be heard. I couldn’t wait even for them though. The fire inside me was already rising with every moment that passed. I shrugged on my jacket, swung the pack on my shoulder and left.
Chapter Two
Practically speaking, there was a limit to the number of places that John could have gone to. We’d been east that afternoon so he wouldn’t be there again now. Having little patience with the local humans, he generally avoided the village so that was probably out. North of the keep was the road and south was the forest then the coast. It was usually the case that any nasties around would try to avoid being inadvertently run over by a heavy goods lorry and stay in the opposite direction. And where there were nasties, that’s where I’d find John so south it was. I kept my mental fingers crossed that I was just over-reacting but made sure that I stayed fully alert and engaged anyway, and that my daggers were easily accessible and wouldn’t snag on my clothing when I needed them most.
One of the inexplicable skills that I had, and could boast about to, er, no-one, were a few parlour mind tricks. I could hear and respond to the alpha’s Voice in the same way that a real shifter could, which admittedly might just be a side-effect of living with the pack for most of my life, much in the same way that women’s periods aligned themselves if they lived together in close quarters for a long period of time. It was just too bad the Voice didn’t work both ways, in my case or in the shifters’ cases. Unfortunately only alphas could initiate mind to mind conversation and although I shouldn’t by rights be able to hear him because I wasn’t a shifter, the rules for me were the same. I couldn’t contact him, he could only contact me.
