Wolves of the Woods: The Elect Book the Third by Alma T. C. Boykin

Author:Alma T. C. Boykin [Boykin, Alma T. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

MARA FROZE, compost bowl in hand. Evil chilled the wind, a scentless scent that raised her hackles. She tossed the compost into the bin, spun, and raced back into the keep. "Trouble, my lord, trouble, something's wrong," Mara called as she got close to Lord Gregor's private chambers. The door opened as she half slid to a stop. She bent the knee, then said, "Brother, evil moves below the castle. I taste it on the wind."

"I come, sister. To the wolf gate. Warn the others."

"Sir." As soon as the door closed, she ducked into her den to fetch a jacket and hunting knife. Then she turned and trotted out the servants' door into the courtyard, closing the wood and iron door firmly behind her. She hurried to the long, low building that held the old servants' quarters and their chapel. She banged on the outside door and waited.

Basil opened it. "What—?" He froze, then sniffed the wind and mouthed a curse. "I come, and warn those here, sister."

"Meet at the wolf gate."

"Wolf gate." Basil closed the door, and Mara retraced her steps.

She reached the small gate at the top of the steps before the pack leader arrived, and she took a moment to catch her breath and listen to the night, mouth part open to both taste and smell. Coldness, terrible familiar coldness on the wind that swept up the hill, and bitterness like the wailing of lost souls, save that she tasted it. A stranger howled, angry, in the night. She risked looking down the slope, but saw nothing. Heavy steps approached from behind, the pack leader, Attila, Jan, and Basil. "Our brothers guard the keep," Gregor said.

"Sir, it moves below us, and I heard a stranger calling from the deeper forest," she reported.

Gregor's face darkened and he nodded once. "Come." He led the way down the stairs cut into the hill, the other Elect following. Mara followed, concentrating on the scent and sense of the night. "I have the scent," the pack leader called, quiet, intense. The men shifted so that Mara followed at the leader's left shoulder, Attila on the right. They circled around past the wood shop to the north side of the castle hill and the guest cottages. The scent and sense of wrongness grew stronger. Gregor snarled, and Mara echoed the sound.

"Did it get in?" Jan whispered. Gregor and Mara circled the cottage. She listened, sniffed, and concentrated on the ground. Tracks went as far as possible around the building, and she saw dents in the wood of the door, but no sign of entry. She shook her head.

Gregor's phone pinged. He glanced at it. "Did not get in. We track," he snarled as he silenced the small box. Mara yielded her place to Jan and watched beside him. Basil and Attila guarded the other side and rear.

"The big man, and a wolf," Jan breathed. He crouched, studying the tracks in soft ground near a seep of water.

"The same one who left tracks in the woods, near the dying tree and bitter ground," Attila murmured.

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