Pack Ruin (The Splintered Bond #3)

34. A Terrible Error

34

A Terrible Error

GRIGOR

H arsh sunlight shone all around the culvert where I’d been forced to squat for hours now, holding the look-away spell over the hovel where my little queen’s true father had lived. It was more difficult for me to do any work of magic without shadows and moonlight to draw from, though I hadn’t admitted that to my future mate. She’d been concerned enough, hearing my confessions earlier, and after she had given me the chance to touch her, taste her, I’d felt like I could do anything.

I should have known this task would be far more difficult than I had anticipated. Not only was my magic still diminished from the days spent lying under Luke’s sickbed, funneling my power directly into him to keep him alive, my physical body was exhausted.

I hadn’t slept since Luke’s machines had been unplugged. I needed rest, though I couldn’t afford to slip into unconsciousness now.

I also needed food, though there was almost none to be had here. I’d left what little had been found in the house for the others, hoping to snare an unsuspecting squirrel or rabbit while I guarded from outside, but the whole compound was buzzing with shifters searching for the missing females. Not even a songbird flew overhead, with this many agitated predators making so much noise, though a black vulture circled lazily above.

I exhaled slowly, my stomach burning, my hands shaking with fatigue. Only the memory of my queen’s face when she was transformed with bliss would?—

“Torran, I found this at the base of a pine close to the fence line.” An Enforcer jogged down the closest street, and I saw the Eastern Alpha stand-in approaching from the direction of the back gate that led to the hunting grounds. I marveled again at what effective camouflage he had.

Torran was the most nondescript powerful shifter I’d seen in a long time. He had short brown hair, with flat, dark eyes, and was not quite six feet tall, short for an Enforcer. Most curiously, he didn’t hold himself like a powerful being. His shoulders were hunched slightly, his head swinging from side to side as if he were looking for something, and his hands held no weapons, though I knew he had at least one silver blade on his person at all times. When the wind blew the right direction, you could smell it on him, though it was faint.

Today, he wore his usual black clothing, though his hairline was damp with perspiration. The Enforcer who ran up to him stopped in the center of the dusty road. “It smells odd, sir. Like?—”

Torran already had the backpack in his hand, unzipped. “Like cinnamon,” he said softly, rifling through the contents before pulling out a steak knife.

Her steak knife.

I bristled as he lifted it to his nose and sniffed delicately, as if he were tasting a wine. “And jasmine. What a lovely… bouquet.” Before I could do something foolish, he dropped it in the pack and handed it back to the Enforcer. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Where is your second?”

“My younger brother. He was… the one killed last night.” The Enforcer’s jaw worked as he swallowed convulsively.

Torran didn’t blink. “Ah, yes. We’ll need to reassign someone to you. Reinforcements are coming from Eastern. Keep this for me. I’m on my way to the Pack House. Bring this there when you’re done checking the houses on this row.”

“Yes, sir,” the young man said with a salute. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and jogged to the door of the next house, knocking three times. When no one answered, he kicked the door in, shouting, “Inspection!”

It had been too long since I’d given my little queen a courting gift, I decided. And she’d admitted a strange attachment to her ear tag, so I didn’t think the wind chime I’d planned to make of Torran’s corpse and the unranked shifters’ tags would be as well-received as I’d hoped.

But she loved that knife. It was the first weapon she’d ever used to kill a man, and I knew how special those could be. I would get it back for her.

I waited for Torran to move out of sight, then spun a thread of magic around myself and slid along the ditch, before following the Enforcer inside. I was prepared to kill him to take the backpack, but he’d dropped it just inside the door of the empty house. Grabbing it, I slid back out in seconds, before he knew I’d been there. I took a moment to carry the backpack to the back door of Del’s house, ready to open the door and take the knife inside.

But when I got close enough, even though I’d shut down the connections as much as I could, in order to keep my focus and not draw energy from my new brothers… I couldn’t help but feel the shivering sensation of Luke and my queen kissing.

For a moment, a deep need to rend the one who would touch her into pieces threatened to consume me. I dropped the backpack at the door, feeling the beast who shared my body roaring to be let free.

She was mine. Mine! I’d waited for so long, and it wasn’t right that I be the last one to join with her. This one, in particular, was the least worthy of her mates, the one who had failed her day after day…

No. No. I knew better now.

Slowly, I backed away from the door as the sound of a lustful groan reached my ears. This had to happen. If they mated, when they did, it would be one step closer to her being stronger, her wolf emerging, and our group becoming what it was meant to be.

I could wait. But not this close, I knew. I reached into myself and pulled far more magic away from my center than was safe, wrapping it around the small house to dampen the sounds for those inside, and out. Sealing the doors and windows shut to intruders.

It would have to do. I slid back next door, quickly broke the neck of the Enforcer who was coming out, and dragged him back inside.

A moment later, I stepped out wearing his uniform and jogged toward the Pack House. Reinforcements, Torran had said. I’d need a closer look at any new additions to the Southern packlands.

The Pack House was a frenzy of activity, and I was able to enter by the side door closest to Luke’s sickroom, carrying a basket of laundry. I kept my head down, but my senses alert.

There was something strange in the air, like a storm racing in. I heard others I passed whispering about “her,” their voices filled with awe.

Or terror.

It had to be the one Torran had spoken to on the phone. His mistress. I turned the corner just as the front door of the Pack House opened, and a tall woman with reddish-gray hair stepped inside. Torran was beside her, practically trembling with lust. She ignored him, and set her hand on the doorframe.

“Someone is inside,” she said. The cold power that filled those simple words had me stepping backward, slowly, trying not to draw attention to my movements.

But every other shifter in the entire house had gone still. Frozen by her power. I had made a terrible error, allowing myself to be this close to one like her, while I was so weak.

I had to get out, now. Had to get my little queen out, and her other mates. Had to?—

Too late. The woman pressed her hand into the doorframe, the wood giving under the pressure of her hand, and spoke three more words—in a blood-soaked, ancient language that told me exactly what she was.

A shield of power fell over the Pack House, trapping everyone inside.

Her voice was soft, almost gentle, as she spoke again. “An unexpected visitor. How fortuitous.” Then she turned, the gleam in her eyes razor-tipped and cruel, and I knew not only what she was, but who.

I used more power than I should to send a plea down the braided bond to Luke and Glen, begging them to listen, but she was always my priority. Even now.

Get her out. Now. GET HER OUT!