First Bite (The Dark Wolf Series) (28 page)

There was a pause and then two soft taps.

He blew out a breath, a little surprised at how relieved he was. “Okay, that’s more like it.” What could he ask now? He considered the possibility that it was one of Meredith’s minions messing with his head, but decided not. His sense of smell was still pretty good, even if he couldn’t figure out where the hell his inner wolf was. Inside his cell, the smell of the high-powered cleanser masked everything except what was closest to him. Through the grated window, however, the cleanser was unable to mask the underlying odors of blood and filth and misery that emanated from one of the cells beyond. And it was
Changeling
blood.

Travis took a chance, immediately switching to mindspeak and narrowing his focus so the other prisoner would be the only one to hear him.
The chow’s not bad here, but I hate the decor. How about you?

Needs curtains. I’m Riley.

I’d rather not say.

I’m cool with that. Names are power. You never know who’s listening.

You okay?

Healing slow. Had a run-in with the proprietor of this establishment.

Yeah, well, I’m looking for someone to help me complain to her personally about the accommodations.

Love to. Zarita thinks the bandages can come off soon.

Shit. The guy’s condition had to be rough, because if there was one thing a fast-healing Changeling seldom needed, it was first aid. Even after the demons had sampled Travis’s chest like a smoked-salmon buffet, the bleeding had stopped fairly quickly
and the damage was becoming less noticeable by the hour. If Travis could just shape-shift, it would be healed immediately—but his wolf was still a no-show.
Who’s Zarita?
He was concerned that Meredith had a partner in crime.

Dr. Zarita Arandas. I figure she must be damn good, because she’s Meredith’s “personal physician.” Mostly, though, Zarita ends up looking after the pack. Not because we have a swell health plan or anything. Just ’cause we’re usually the ones bleeding. So far I might be her most regular patient.
Riley laughed a little, but it turned into a coughing spell. It took him a few moments to recover before he continued.
She brought you the food—guess you were still out of it.

She’d given him the roast? The woman’s credentials went up a few notches.
Is Zarita a Changeling, too?

What’s—oh, you mean
werewolf
? No, but she was recruited by Meredith years ago. One of the early ones, apparently.

The early ones. Christ, how long had this been going on?
Do you trust her?

Mostly. She hates Meredith. ’Course, everyone does who still has a mind of their own. Most don’t even seem to know who they are anymore. They think they’ve always been here.

What about you? You been here long?

Over a month. Been in the cell for a week. Maybe more.

Travis thought of something.
Can you Change? Can you call on your wolf to help you heal?

Hell, I don’t have to call it, it’s right here. I haven’t walked on two legs since Meredith handed me my ass. She blocks all shape-shifting—from what I’ve seen, no one can become human
or
wolf unless she allows it. Zarita says it’s some kind of magic spell.
Riley snorted.
Sounds like fairy-tale shit, but I didn’t believe in werewolves either until this happened to me. So, magic? Sure. Unicorns are probably real, too.

Travis frowned. According to Neva, Meredith was the sire of almost all the wolves in her pack. Among Changelings, nature had made provision for the very new or the very young, allowing their sire to be able to control them until they were in control of themselves. But that natural influence gradually waned. Within a few months, Meredith’s wolves would normally be free of her constraints. Compelling someone to Change or not Change should be impossible for her—and yet she continued to control a large number of wolves. What had gone wrong?

He shook his head, realizing that nothing had gone wrong at all. Something had gone very, very right—for Meredith. He’d witnessed for himself that she practiced a ghastly type of blood magic, at a frighteningly powerful level. Neva had once said that her twin considered herself a pioneer in spell crafting and experimented a great deal. He’d seen that, too, and also that the woman was obsessive about documenting the results.
Of course
the bitch had found a way to harness that initial natural control every sire had. In fact, she wasn’t just continuing it but magnifying it. Judging by the fact that his own wolf was MIA, Meredith’s unnatural control even extended to Changelings that she hadn’t even sired.
This just gets better and better.

Sure does.
Riley thought Travis was still talking to him.
Zarita will be here in the morning. Maybe you could ask
her
some questions.
The voice in Travis’s head went silent as the shape-shifter drifted off to much-needed sleep. It was a troubled rest, however, as shouted words and snatches of strange one-sided conversations could be heard from Riley’s cell over the next few hours. And the coughing fits. Travis was no doctor, but he was willing to bet the other Changeling had broken ribs.

For the next few hours, Travis focused on his memories of his grandfather. He sifted through them, hoping to find some tiny nugget of wisdom or information he could apply to his
current situation,
anything
that would help him understand how Meredith was operating. And maybe from that he could figure out how to stop it.

All that came to mind, however, was a seven-sided chunk of clear quartz that his grandfather kept in his pocket at all times. It had no color, and the once-sharp points were a little worn with age. No matter what else Travis tried to remember, his mind’s eye saw only the crystal lying in his grandfather’s palm, looking like the plainest of glass. It didn’t even cast rainbows or gleam with hidden inclusions, and as a small child, he hadn’t been interested in it—until he was invited to hold it.
Make your thoughts quiet
, his grandfather had instructed.
See. Hear. Feel.

He’d seen and heard nothing, but suddenly he felt something strange, as if a vibration was thrumming in his cupped hands. As the pleasant pulsation continued, steady and sure, up through his arms, into his chest, and somehow into his very being, he realized the crystal was causing it.
It amplifies energy
, his grandfather explained.
It takes that which already is and makes it greater. And it channels information from places outside yourself.

Frustrated, Travis paced his cell. He wasn’t his grandfather. He didn’t have a damn crystal, and if he did, he wouldn’t know the first thing about how to use it. Maybe if he’d stuck around, if he’d stayed with the pack, he would have learned some of his grandfather’s skills.
If, if, if…

Christ, he hated that word.

The rented SUV was a full-size gas hog, but it had four-wheel drive, and Neva knew they’d need it to get close to what Baker called “the bitch queen’s fortress.” She elected to do the driving—he was hungover, of course—and headed south on I-5. At Grant’s Pass she turned southwest to access the Redwood Highway for the rest of the trip. Within the hour, they would be in Del Norte County, California, and zeroing in on Meredith’s isolated mansion on the coast.

The sky was that vivid shade of blue that only occurred in the fall, with wisps of icy cirrus clouds airbrushed across the zenith. Everything seemed brighter, colors more intense, details more noticeable, from the calm ocean and the lush landscape to the green highway signs and even the flowering weeds that grew along the guardrails. Sunshine lent a golden cast to all of it…With a start, Neva realized she was appreciating a world that she could be leaving soon. She and Baker were going to attempt the impossible, and if Meredith caught them, their lives would basically be over. Perhaps they would survive physically for a time, but nothing would be left of them and anyone they cared about. Her twin would see to that.

A royal-blue highway sign embellished with orange poppies came into view: Welcome to California.
It’s too soon
, Neva thought. Meredith’s estate was close now, but it seemed wrong to have arrived so quickly. What if the hobbits had simply taken
an off-road vehicle into Mordor? They’d have been there in no time flat—and most of the story would never have been written.
If you’re going into battle, it should take a whole lot longer to get to the damn battlefield, shouldn’t it?

She needed more time to prepare. On the other hand, no amount of time would ever be enough, not for this. Baker called it a covert mission, but with Neva’s luck, it would morph into a full-scale confrontation.
Better to just get it over with.

“Wake up,” she said. “We’re in the Sunshine State.”

Baker grunted and slid his sunglasses down his nose. “That’s Florida. California is the Golden State.”

“Sunshine,” she persisted, more to keep him talking than anything.

“It won’t be fucking sunshiny where we’re going.”

“Well, didn’t you wake up cheerful.”

“I’m not awake.”

“You’d better get awake. We’re nearly there.”

He sat up and stuffed the sunglasses into the visor, furrowing his brows and only succeeding in looking cranky.
Amateur
, she thought. Baker’s forehead lacked the expressiveness of Travis’s—and the attitude.
There
was a frown that could speak volumes.
And it would look really good to me right about now.

Baker’s substandard frown lifted when the road took them through a vast forest of redwoods and Douglas firs. The living giants were breathtaking, and it seemed as if the SUV shrank down to the size of an insect as it rolled by them. The shafts of sunlight that fell through the towering branches was nothing short of glorious, and Neva couldn’t help but think this was a good thing to see before—well, before anything
final
happened.

So much for positive thinking. But then, she had no illusions about what she was up against and what her chances were. She glanced at Baker.
You’re sure you know your way around?

I know where to look for Riley. I figure your Travis is in the same place.

It would have to do. They were insane, of course, she and Baker both. Once having escaped Meredith’s house of horrors, how could anyone go back there? Yet her resolve hadn’t weakened. If anything, it was reinforced.

She had to find Travis. Migrating birds felt the tug of the seasons. They flew hundreds, even thousands, of miles because it was a life imperative. And they knew exactly where they were going, even if they’d never been there. Just like what she was experiencing now—Neva felt the irresistible draw of an invisible cord, a pulsing, living connection that pulled her toward Travis.
Has to be some kind of a Changeling thing.
She almost believed she could find him without knowing where he was, and that was disturbing. How far did this weird new ability go? Did werewolves automatically sense each other?

If so, how long would it take Meredith to find
her
?

Enemy territory loomed before them—literally. With the redwoods towering two hundred feet and more, and Douglas fir and Sitka spruce nearly as large, Baker’s six-foot-one frame felt abysmally small. The giant trees shared their territory with smaller species, sure, but it was all relative—many of the big-leaf maples and red alders he could see were more than a hundred feet high themselves. What it came down to was the bitch queen not only had an unbelievable amount of real estate, but most of it was old-growth forest.
I didn’t think anyone could still own that—isn’t it like a national treasure or something?
Maybe the property dated back to an earlier time and laws that were more lax about such things. Besides, as his dad was fond of saying, money talked. And Meredith de la Ronde seemed to have more money than God.

Whatever the land title said, they were going to have to walk in from here. It was just as well. Although they’d filled the tank before they left, the gas gauge was already hovering near empty.
Remind me never to buy one of these
, he thought in disgust. Even his dad’s ’79 pickup got
way
better mileage than this shiny new guzzler.

Neva and Baker hid the SUV, pulling it off the road and stacking branches and leaves on it. With luck, no one would see it. They’d compared notes about their respective escapes, and their consensus was that the guards usually stayed clear of the forest area. Strange to have such a natural playground for wolves but not let anyone use it. Maybe Meredith was concerned that the raw appeal of the wilderness might lure her wolves to desert her. The patrols seemed to be reserved for the walled perimeter of the mansion itself, with its vast manicured lawns, flagstone patios, and a pair of lake-like blue swimming pools.

Baker stripped off his clothes—noting he’d missed a price tag on the jeans—and stuffed them into a garbage bag. The package fit into a scraped-out hollow between the forks of one of the more normal-size trees he’d seen since this morning, some kind of oak. He scattered a thick layer of dead leaves and forest-floor debris over the black plastic to hide it and stepped back. The camouflage gave away no secrets. If only he could disguise
himself
that well…Naked, he stood for a moment, calming himself, then signaled his wolf.