Chapter Eleven
Elias
I watch in horror as the huge coyote drops from the tree onto the carriage. He moves quickly and with menacing intent.
“Branson!” I yell, my wolf heart thudding dangerously fast.
He’s right behind me, he’s seen it too.
“Hurry. Fuck. Go!” he shouts.
We leave the cover of the shadows and burst onto the path no longer caring who sees us. Our woman is in danger. Mortal danger.
She screams then, “Elias. Branson. Help!”
Maisey’s voice reaches us and the panic in it sickens me.
I speed up even though I didn’t think I could go any faster.
I’m at full stretch with each stride, my back long and straight, tail flying out behind me.
Branson is just as fast and we approach the carriage from behind. Our advance grimly determined.
Suddenly the carriage tips to the left, one wheel lifting, and a figure falls off. Harvey. He lands hard and rolls, shifting as he goes. Wow, that had to hurt.
“She’s alone on there. With that thing!” Branson leaps over Harvey. Harvey appears okay, wolf now, and shaking his big furry head as though figuring out what has just happened.
But the carriage is taking off faster. The horse is bolting and taking a crazy route over path and grass.
“We can’t let anything happen to her!” I snarl as adrenaline and fury take over.
I reach the carriage and leap up onto it. So does Branson.
But I land first and the feral coyote is pressed over her, about to bite, tear at her with its huge jaws. And she’s just staring at it. Eyes wide. A strange calmness coming from her.
Then I see it. She has something in her hand. It’s the knife handle. The sharp end is buried deep in a heart-piercing strike.
“Good girl.”
“What?” Branson is next to me and takes in the situation. “The knife, thank goodness.”
I rage at the coyote and knock him from the carriage.
I fall with him and in a roll of fur, teeth, and claws, we collide with the frozen ground.
He’s fading fast with blood spurting from his chest and his eyes glazing.
Branson locks onto his neck, his large teeth sinking deep into the arteries and veins there.
This coyote is on his last seconds of life.
With my mouth I twist the knife, making sure it does its job. The stench of his blood is bitter and rotten. This infected creature is done for. No saving him. And he’s hot. Burning up. The madness has well and truly taken him. Death is the kindest option.
Branson finishes him off by puncturing his carotid. The creature jolts in a death spasm and then slumps.
I raise my head, breathing fast, and look at Branson. My young lover is a killer, the same way I am. And we’ve done our job.
“The carriage.” Branson looks over my shoulder. “We have to stop it!”
He springs away.
I look at the dead coyote. He’ll be a liability if a human finds him like this.
But then I sense more shifters approaching. Lots of them. Members of every clan rushing ever closer from the direction of the park’s meadow. They have come together in this moment of need. Old rivalries forgotten, hatred and revenge unbound and reformed as unity.
I race after Branson. The alphas will be all over the coyote in seconds and it will be their problem, not mine. We’ve done our bit.
My problem, right now, is the fact that the woman I love—yes, love—is hurtling out of control through the park. Princess is fast—lightning fast—and both Branson and I struggle to gain on her.
But then I see her slow, only a little at first, a calmer pace with less snorting and less panic within the clatter of her hooves.
“I think Maisey has control of her,” Branson says.
“Yes.”
The carriage comes to a halt on the bend that leads down to the bridge where I first caught Maisey’s scent. She slips to the ground and rushes to Princess’s head. I can see from a distance her actions are gentle and soothing.
“I think she’s okay,” Branson says. “Thank goodness.”
I agree with him but I won’t be convinced until I check her over myself.
She is looking straight at us but it takes a moment before she spots us in the darkness. When she does her face becomes softer and the tension in her shoulders drops.
Branson shifts, mid-run, show off, and approaches her with his arms outstretched. He clasps her to him, his arms locked around her in a way that tells me he loves her as much as I do.
I stop, shift, and then hold them both close. “Are you okay?” I ask into her ear.
“I am now.” There’s a shake in her voice. “Is he ...is he dead? The infected coyote?”
“Yes.”
“The knife?”
“That certainly made our job easier,” Branson said. “You did good.”
“I did what I had to do.” Her voice holds steely resolve. I’m glad she doesn’t regret her kill.
I wipe at a smear of blood on her cheek. “Are you’re okay?”
“Yes. But what about Harvey?” Her eyes are wide as she looks between the two of us. “How is he? The coyote came out of nowhere. He just dropped from the sky, or so it seemed.”
“Harvey took a tumble but he’ll be okay,” I say. “And he will be grateful that you have Princess with you safe and sound, he loves that horse.”
She releases me to stroke Princess’s neck. “She is a good horse and...”
“What?” Branson asks.
Like me, he senses there’s more she wants to say.
“Something strange happened with the reins. I couldn’t reach them, but they came to me, I willed them to stop dragging on the floor and they just floated into my hands.”
“Well, you do have witching blood,” I say with a smile. “What do you expect?”
She nods, thoughtful. “I guess so.”
I turn at the sound of paws on the hard ground. Harvey is approaching.
Princess whinnies and bobs her head up and down, rattling her leathers and buckles. She is pleased to see him.
He stops, rears up, and shifts to his human form.
Naked, he ducks to the back of the carriage and pulls out boots, pants, and a thick black sweater.
When he’s dressed, he goes straight to Princess, cooing and fussing as he checks her legs and feet by running his hand over them and then speaking softly into her ear.
When he’s satisfied his horse is unharmed, he looks at Maisey.
“Thank you. Another few seconds and she would have tried to get under that bridge. It would not have gone well and I can’t imagine life without her. ”
“She’s a good horse. She got spooked, that’s all.”
“And you clearly have a way with her.” He nods at Branson and then me. “You dealt with him?”
“Yes, he’s dead. The others are there now.”
He sniffs the air. “Yes, I can smell them all, a real shifter party going on.” His attention turns to Branson. “You did good for a cat.”
Branson’s head jerks as though shocked by the statement. Then his mouth stretches into a grin. “Cheeky son of a bitch.” He laughs.
Harvey laughs too and slaps him on the back. “You guys should get going, it’s cold out here and I don’t have spare clothes for you.”
“Yes, he’s right.” Maisey shivers and looks at first my naked body and then Branson’s. “Without fur you’ll catch a chill. Come on.”
I release her and will my wolf to surface.
He does and I’m glad of the warmth of my fur and the heightened senses.
Branson also shifts and as soon as he has, he rubs his cheeks over Maisey as though staking a claim.
She ruffles the fur between his ears—he loves that—and we leave Harvey still talking soothingly to Princess.
Halfway back across the park, in the shadows of a rocky outcrop, there is a gathering of shifters. The alphas we spotted beneath Maisey’s window. Though now they are in their human forms, clothed, a trunk set on the floor beside them.
“We should shift again,” Branson says.
I see his alpha, Aslar, a huge guy who keeps his yellow panther eyes even when in human form.
Fraser is at his side wearing a thick black parker coat.
Then Isambard, the leopard alpha, his human coat the same as his animal one, and Demitri, the coyote alpha, and Taktak, the polar bear alpha, easily the biggest out of them all.
“What the hell?” I’ve never seen anything like it. These age-old rivals are standing around as though wars and revenge have never happened.
“What is going on?” Maisey asks, her hand on my shoulders.
I can’t answer so make the decision to shift and hope there are some spare clothes in the trunk.
In moments I am human again, Branson the same. Luckily, we find some clothes, including boots and coats in the trunk. Clearly someone had planned for this unprecedented event.
“Where is the dead coyote?” Branson directs at Fraser.
“He has been dealt with. Nikoli took him.” Fraser turns his attention to Maisey. “Are you well? Did you he hurt you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” She smiles and slips her hand into mine, it feels like it’s for reassurance. And I’m not surprised, there’s a lot of scary big alphas looking at her, I can’t blame her for feeling nervous.
I am, though. Branson and I haven’t been seen apart for some time now. The penny must surely have dropped that there is something more to our relationship.
“We wish to thank you,” Taktak says in a throaty accented voice. “If a descendent of the High Priestess hadn’t graced us with blood and knowledge, then this would have been a very different outcome. We might not even be here a month from now, moon fever takes hold quickly.”
“Yes, I have seen that,” Maisey says. “But no thanks are necessary, from any of you. All I ask is...”
“What?” Isambard, the leopard alpha asks gruffly. “What can we do to serve you?”
“I do not wish to be served.” She takes Branson’s hand as well as mine.
Branson glances at me, there’s a shot of nervousness in his eyes. This woman of ours can be unpredictable and bold.
“I wish,” she says and tips her chin. “That you all continue to live like this, at peace with one another, in an underworld without judgement or prejudice. Everyone free to be who they please with who they please.”
My stomach rolls with nerves as I look around the faces of these men I fear have wanted to judge me for so long.
“There are so few of you, compared to humans in this city,” she goes on.
“You must stand together to survive. Be as one.” She pauses and looks from me to Branson.
“I am honored to know you all, to know of your existence, and all I ask is that acceptance and tolerance become part of your mutual agreement with each other. It is the only way you will continue to not just survive but thrive.”
There is a rumble of mutterings, a few nods, and a couple of throat clearings.
“I believe I can speak for all,” Fraser says puffing up his chest and stepping forward, “when I welcome you, Maisey, as an honorary member of the underworld and family to all shifter clans.” He looks around the group, his eyes flashing in the darkness. “All say aye.”
“Aye.” The rumble of acknowledgement fills me with something very much like hope.
“And to Branson and Elias,” Fraser goes on. “We as a collective wish to thank you for your service tonight. You finished the kill and protected the woman who we all owe a great deal to.”
“It is our pleasure to be of help,” Branson says. “Always.”
Fraser nods at him. “Now I suggest we disband from this site before we arouse suspicion.”
“Good idea,” Isambard agrees gruffly.
They begin to wander off. Taktak and Demitri appear to be in earnest conversation, which is something I’d never thought I’d see between these two enemies.
“Elias,” Aslar says, appearing in front of us. “Are you sure you’re all unharmed?”
“Yes, we are fine.” I draw Maisey’s hand to my mouth and kiss her cool knuckles. “Perhaps just in need of warmth.”
“I am glad and...” He turns to Branson. “You should know, Branson, you are welcome in the wolves’ den anytime ... if you dare, that is.”
“If I dare?” Branson raises his eyebrows cockily. “I think I can handle a wolf or two.”
Aslar laughs. “I’m sure you can. I’m sure you can.” He squeezes Branson’s shoulder in an affectionate gesture and then holds out his hand to Maisey.
She takes it and they shake.
“If you ever need anything,” he says, “there are many men, powerful men, shifters, in this city who will be at your beck and call.”
“Thank you,” she says, “though I think Elias and Branson will insist on being the first in line.”
“That,” he says, “I do believe.”