It was a good sword, sharp and solid. It made a lovely sound as it split the hunter’s mouth, then his throat on its way down. The hunter’s heart fluttered like a dying bird, then stopped.
Derek raised his head to the sky. Above him the moon watched through the massive gap in the roof. He opened his bloody jaws and sang. The high-pitched howl rose up, riding on the moonlight, rolling through the night, and all who heard it would know he had made his kill.
He shook the corpse, hoping for more fight, then took the dead man’s head into his mouth, but the hunter didn’t move. His heart was still. He tossed the dead hunter aside.
There had to be something left to kill. There was still one heart beating.
He turned and saw her sitting in a circle. She looked . . . good.
He walked to the circle. She didn’t move. She just watched him with pretty brown eyes.
He ran headfirst into a wall. He couldn’t see it, but it was there. He looked down and noticed a white chalk line between him and her. Magic.
He circled the ward, probing it with his claws. The invisible wall held all the way around. He stopped in front of her and crouched, so they were level. His voice was an inhuman, ragged snarl. “Let me in.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Let me in.”
“Maybe in a little while,” she said. “Once you cool off.”
“I’m all cooled off.” He wanted into that circle.
“In a little bit.”
He backed away and ran full speed at the circle. The wall held.
“You really can’t skip the hunt,” she told him.
It took another four tries before he decided he couldn’t break through the wall. He kicked the corpses for a while, but they didn’t put up a fight and the horse had run off. He thought of tracking it down, but he would have to leave her and he didn’t want to. He finally settled for stretching out by the circle and looking at the moon.
It soothed him until his breath evened out. Slowly the rational thought returned. His body hurt in too many places. He wished he could fall asleep, but if he let himself go now, he would sleep like the dead for several hours while his body healed the damage. He couldn’t change shape either. Most shapeshifters could deal with one or two changes in a day and then it was nap time, whether you liked it or not. He was stronger than most, but he didn’t want to tempt the fates. He’d spent so much energy fighting the silver, a change could shut him down for good, and he didn’t have that luxury.
Caleb Adams was still out there.
The deep purple of the night sky was slowly fading to lighter blue. The sunrise was coming.
The wild had gotten away from him. It was always like this—he remembered what he did only after he had done it. It always felt right while he was doing it. Sometimes he regretted it, although mostly he didn’t. He did today.
“Derek!” she sounded alarmed.
He sat up.
“The rock is moving.” She pointed right. “He’s taking it somewhere!”
He shook himself. “Come on.”
She squinted at him.
“I’m cooled off,” he told her.
She reached over, rubbed the chalk line, and stepped out. Her scent washed over him.
“Which way?” he asked.
“East,” she said. “No, wait, southeast. He’s going back exactly the way we came.”
“Sorry I scared you,” he said as they left the building.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not that scary.”
Relief washed through him. He bared his fangs at her, pretending to snarl.
“Ew. Drool. Nothing you do scares me, Derek. Deal with it.”
“I’ll have to try harder then.”
“You do that.”
CHAPTER 4
THE SKY ABOVE PILLAR ROCK was a pretty blue, with thin trails of clouds stretching from the east. The muddy water of the holes stole the color, and for the moment, turned blue and shiny, like cobalt glass. The pillar jutted among the myriad of puddles, reaching toward the sky, and on its very tip, three chunks of glowing rock lay together, forming a single glowing stone. It was almost beautiful, Derek reflected, except for Caleb Adams, who stood between them and the pillar. He’d caught Adams’ scent the moment they left the ruins. The warlock made no attempts to mask the trail. A child could’ve followed it.
He was in his forties, average height, but above average build, if his broad shoulders and stance were anything to go by. His black robe, tattered and tied with a length of rope, probably hid the build of a weightlifter.
His face was perfectly ordinary: short, dark blond hair; short beard; dark eyes under sloping eyebrows. His face had a ruddy tint, just short of a sunburn, the kind pale-skinned people got when they were forced to spend time outdoors. Clever, Derek decided. If Adams walked into a bar and ordered a beer, Derek wouldn’t pay him a second glance.
“I have to know,” Adams said. “What the hell is it? Who hired you? Why are you following me all around the damn city? I just can’t shake you two off.”
Derek unhinged his monster jaws. “Your people killed the Iveses.”
“So that’s it?” Adams frowned.
“Kids,” Julie said. “They killed the kids, too. You don’t get the rock. You don’t get the power. You get to answer for the family.”
“This is what comes from sending idiots to do a job.” Adams sighed. “There are ten rules to delegation. The first one is pick the right people. Clearly, I picked the wrong people.”
Either he was obsessed with middle management or he was stalling. He had some sort of plan. Derek glanced at Julie. She looked back at him, her face unreadable. If she had seen any magic, she would’ve shook her head or nodded or given him some sign.
“You win.” Caleb raised his hands, backing off to the left. “I know who the two of you are. You’re the Grey Wolf, and you’re Kate Daniels’ little witchling. I’ve seen the two of you around. I thought the Hunter would take of the two of you, so I could do my thing, but clearly he didn’t. I give up. There’s the rock; go and get it.”
Neither of them moved.
“You do know what it does?” Caleb smiled. “The glowing star, falling from heavens at sunset on the last night of spring? A nightingale wasn’t singing—we don’t have them here—but a mockingbird was. It’s close enough. Normally they don’t break like that, but magic is still weak in the world. You should know this, little witchling. This is one all Slavs fear. Or did Evdokia not teach you yet?”
“Derek!” Julie cried out. “Run!”
The first ray of the rising sun broke free from the horizon. The glowing rock shone with brilliant, cold light, fusing into whole. The light shot up and coalesced into a woman.
He took a sharp breath.
She was beautiful. Her skin was flawless, her hair like gold, her eyes silver like starlight. She stood naked on the rock. He stared at her breasts, the rounded curves of her hips, the pale triangle of golden curls between her legs . . . So soft, so golden . . . He wanted to put his hands on her.
Her magic washed over him, and his body reshaped itself on its own, trying to match her humanity with his own. He went hard, and when she opened her mouth, her red lips like ripe fruit, and called him to her, his body wanted to obey.
Her voice was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “Beloved . . . Come to me . . .”
Images flickered in his mind. He saw himself over her, felt himself in her, saw her skin blush as her body clenched around him. . . . Her magic was too strong. He was tired and hurt, and the forced change drained him. He couldn’t fight it. He had to go to her. That was the best way. The right way.
“Derek!” Julie grabbed his arm. “No!”
He shrugged her off. He had to get to the woman. Fighting the flood of magic was pointless. It would only exhaust him more, and he was already weak.
“Derek!”
He shoved her back. She fell and he marched to the pillar.
“He’s lost,” Adams mocked. “He’s young and single. He can’t resist a letavitsa. That right there is unmatched power. A single one can empty a city of every man in it.”
“Derek!”
He heard her trying to run after him and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Adams pull a knife out and step into her path.