Page 39 of The Beginning (Covert Moon, #1)

As I spoke the words, slowly and carefully as I'd been taught, I could see the spell begin to fade.

The shimmer in the air grew weaker, the magical threads unraveling like a tapestry coming undone.

From my lessons, I knew that would mean that I'd be able to enter.

I waited for a moment, wanting to make sure that the spell wasn't still present, wasn't going to react badly to our intrusion.

When I could see no more trace of it, I reached my hand over to the doorknob, and opened the door.

The stench reached us first.

I drew my sword from its scabbard and Tobias did the same. The familiar weight of the blade in my hand was comforting, something solid and reliable in a situation that was rapidly becoming anything but.

We entered the room, and a more cheerless space I'd never been in.

The walls were the color of pale flesh, a sickly yellowish-white that made my stomach turn.

The carpet was the brown of a tree trunk.

But a dirty, tired, dead brown, worn down by countless feet and stained with things I didn't want to identify.

Which made the clumps of fur stand out like a beacon.

I raised a finger to my lips and crossed the room to inspect the fur. It was a messy clump, coarse and thick, and as I looked around, I could see there were a few more clumps nearby. The distribution was random, scattered, like whatever had happened here had been violent and chaotic.

I went to the next clump, picking it up as well. It was still slightly damp, which told me whatever had happened here was recent. I held it to my nose, feeling that there was a slippery fluid on it - and bracing myself, I sniffed.

Wolf.

Wolf smells like dog, but worse. Stronger, more acrid, with an underlying wildness that domestic animals lacked. I pulled it back from my nose and inspected the fluid. The blood was dark and sticky, clinging to the fur in congealed clumps.

"Wolf," I said over my shoulder to Tobias. Where had I just seen... no, heard a wolf? A memory hovered at the edge of my consciousness, but I couldn't quite grasp it.

"Shifter," he answered, his voice tight with concern. I could tell by the way he looked around, inhaling deeply, that he was testing some of the other scents in the dwelling. His nostrils flared as he sorted through the various odors. "Whoever this wolf is, he's also a human."

What would a shifter be doing in the Human Realm? "Where is Logan?" I asked.

He nodded, pointing with his chin to a small hallway in front of us.

We stood, and passed a small room to the right.

It looked like it had been used for storage, boxes and containers stacked haphazardly along the walls.

Moving down the hall, the shifter wolf smell got stronger, as did the smell of blood.

The combination was nauseating, metallic and wild and wrong.

Why would a wolf shifter be here? And why would they attack one of our Watchers? Connar hadn't mentioned this as something I needed to be aware of, or something I needed to pay particular attention to. Had something changed? Had some boundary been crossed that I wasn't aware of?

We reached the end of the hallway. The door was partially closed, hanging slightly askew on a single hinge.

Using one hand, I opened it slowly. The hinges gave a small groan of protest. I peered into the room, breathing shallow breaths so as not to inhale too much of the awful smell that was even stronger here.

Tobias hovered behind me, tense and ready for action, I stood up from the defensive crouch I'd gone into instinctively.

"Stand down," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "We've found him."

The missing Watcher lay on the floor, and his shirt was covered in blood.

Dark stains had soaked through the fabric, creating abstract patterns that spoke of violence and struggle.

As I approached, I could see that the blood corresponded with tears in the shirt - bites.

The fabric was shredded in places, revealing pale skin beneath marked with deep gouges.

Further confirmation of the wolf, if any was needed.

The Watcher had a large knife in his left hand.

It was covered in dark blood, the blade sticky with it from tip to hilt.

I reached down to touch it, noting how the blood had begun to congeal but wasn't completely dry yet.

This had happened recently, within the last few hours.

I pried the knife from his hand - his grip was still tight, locked in the final moment of his life—and sniffed at it.

This wasn't fae blood. This was wolf blood, shifter blood.

It had a different scent, wilder, more animalistic.

At least he'd fought back. At least he hadn't gone down easily.

As I looked around, I saw bigger chunks of fur, and some of them still attached to flesh. Pink and raw meat clung to the gray fur, evidence of serious wounds inflicted. The Watcher's final stand had cost his attacker dearly.

This had been an attack, and a focused attack at that, but the Watcher had put up a fight. The room showed signs of the struggle—furniture overturned, scratches in the walls, bloodstains scattered across the floor in patterns that spoke of a fierce battle.

Tobias stood at the door as I prowled around the room, taking in the details, trying to piece together what had happened.

There were more chunks of flesh and fur, and the fur all seemed to be the same shade, a darker tone of gray.

It stood out in contrast to the complete ugliness of the room.

The entire room - the entire dwelling - radiated hopelessness and despair.

I felt sympathy for the dead man. This setting would even drive me to drink.

Maybe loneliness had made him careless, desperate for the wrong kind of companionship.

Finally, I stood and faced Tobias. He was pale, his jaw set in a grim line. "We need to get some of the Watchers here to clean this up," he said.

"See to it. I need to report this to the king" The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders like a lead cloak. How did you tell a king that one of his Watchers had been murdered by a creature that shouldn't have even been here?

Together, we left the grim dwelling. I put a sealing spell on the door, weaving the magic carefully to ensure no one could enter until we returned with a cleanup crew. Then Tobias and I portaled back to the manse.

When we arrived, we both took a moment to inhale deeply. I nodded at my lieutenant, and we left the room to our tasks.

One of my men stopped me as I walked through the mess hall. “Sir, you dropped this on the way,” he said, holding up Wenda's letter.

I looked at it, and for a brief moment, the world stopped. Then I looked up and around at the other men. Was there any chance they had read it? Not a chance, I thought.

“Toss it into the fire. I don't need it,” I said.

He turned and dropped it onto the flame.

I addressed my men. "Gentlemen, I am sorry to report that there's been an attack. Corporal Logan Valemont is dead. Lieutenant Graystone has orders for you all. Excuse me, I must report this to the king."

The room erupted as I departed but Tobias reined them in.

“Ready a team to cross over and collect our man.

I need another team to gather the evidence from his fight.

We'll need to clean his dwelling. We must be discreet.

No one can know that he's been killed, or how. Not until the king advises disclosure.”

“Sir, yes sir!” their response echoed down the hall to my office as I conjured the king through the mirror to give him the bad news.

* * *

W hen the dream came, I stood before a window, taking in a view that looked like countless fireflies of every color imaginable. They glowed and twinkled in the wood, a strange and magical thing to behold.

I wore my former uniform of the King's Guard. My cape moved around my upper body as though floating as I turned.

I had to admit, I missed the cape. It looked good.

“Stay where you are!” a woman's voice shouted.

I whirled toward the voice to find the pink-haired woman I'd seen in my earlier dream, the one from the graveyard who had lost a finger. She was dressed in scanty clothing, which made me appreciate her figure in unexpected and… rather firm ways.

She, however, didn't appreciate my appreciation because she swung a wooden club at me. I called out to her, but no sound came out of my mouth.

As the club swished by my face, her bare legs and pink hair dazzled me. She was really quite attractive, as my body insisted on reminding me.

When was the last time I’d looked at another woman in appreciation? There was something exciting about a woman willing to fight, to defend herself. I didn’t know any women like that.

This woman, who kept haunting my dreams, was fierce and determined. And beautiful.

Even if she was trying to remove my head from my shoulders. I couldn’t take my eyes from her body, the lines muscular shape of her legs, the curve of her hips, the slope her neck as it curved toward her face, her eyes… the rising of my manhood…

Not the time, Eamonn.

At least she hadn’t hit me.

I sat up in my bed, heart pounding, wanting, needing…

Needing her .

I reached for my hardening length, imagining I could know this woman. Picturing her pink hair brushing against my skin.

Pretending I was anywhere but here.