Dark Wolf Page 7

  Jarle hesitated, took a deep breath. The noise came across like a barrage of static.

  Miranda slid the phone away from her ear until she heard the witch speak again.

  “And what compensation do you desire for a fucking locket, slave?”

  “Leave MacHendrie alone.”

  “What has he done to you, Miranda? Filled your head with nonsense that he can save you from me? Do you know his uncle killed my wife?”

  No. She did not know that fact.

  “Or that he himself once attempted to kill me too?”

  “I don’t believe you. MacHendrie does not seem the type to have a temper, let alone be capable of attempted murder.” She wasn’t going to tell her master she knew all about the fight that had cursed Cal’s leg.

  Jarle paused.

  Her throat grew dry. A prickling sensation stirred her every nerve. “I’ll be careful around him.”

  Still she heard no sound from the other side of the phone.

  “Jarle?”

  “I’m still here, slave. If you want proof of what I’ve told you, check the locket. It bears an inscription of my lover’s name—Aine—entwined with mine. We were engaged before that bastard Mortimer stopped me from marrying the woman. I settled for someone else and even that didn’t please Callen’s uncle. Mortimer killed my wife. Find my lover’s locket and you’ll know the truth. MacHendrie is a deceiver.”

  Now she didn’t know who to believe. Jarle was a vile, wicked soul, but she knew what to expect from him. Callen was almost a stranger.

  “I’ll bring you the sword.”

  “And the locket?”

  “Yes, and the locket. But this is the last job I’m doing for you, Jarle. It ends here.”

  “Believe me, I will have no trouble severing our agreement once you bring me what I want.”

  The phone went dead on the other end.

  Miranda tossed it onto the nightstand and then flopped back onto the pile of pillows. Callen never mentioned his uncle’s killing of Jarle’s wife. Nor did he mention the man’s interference in the Viking witch’s relationship with this Aine woman. Maybe her master had reason for being the bitter soul that he was.

  Or maybe it was all just another trick. A deception she couldn’t see through.

  Either way, she wanted out. Risking her life just wasn’t worth it. Nor was it worth risking Callen’s life. She only had one choice. Get the sword and the locket, and then leave.

  Walking away from Wolfsden was the best option for all involved.

  Chapter Seven

  Callen studied the documents spread across his desk and couldn’t believe what he was reading. Vidar’s men had done incredible work in such short time. “How did your guys manage to come across this much info in a matter of hours?”

  “It is a long story, Highlander. But my position in preternatural society has changed recently and while my men have always been good at tracking supernatural lowlifes, I am now in a better position to deal with Jarle. The timing was just right.”

  “Do I need to post guards at my door?”

  The Viking grinned. “I assure you, I obtained the information legally and did not even have to kill anyone. This time.”

  Vidar’s words weren’t exactly comforting, but he decided to trust the man for once. “Are you certain all this information is true?”

  “Everything has been verified,” Vidar said. “Miranda Kendrick is your woman’s real name. We just can’t establish the whereabouts of her New York clinic because she was very good at keeping the business underground, and once Jarle found her he destroyed everything linked to her. But she was very good. Preternatural physicians of her skill level are rare, even in the city. Plus, she pretty much kept to herself. I doubt any other doctors who treat our kind would have even known her.”

  At least now he knew Miranda was right about thinking she had helped animals. As a doctor who tended to shifters she would have come across many of their kind. “She’ll be happy to know some of the few memories she has left of her life before Jarle are real.”

  The Viking shook his head. “What that man has done to Dr. Kendrick is despicable.”

  He couldn’t agree more.

  “Miranda is a rare breed,” Vidar said. “She provided a safe environment for shifters who needed help, ensuring that their identities would be kept confidential so they could get the medical care they needed. She tended to their wounds using her natural talents and never ask questions.”

  His mate was a born healer. No wonder the pain in his leg had eased after she’d kneed him in the thigh. He imagined she could do even better if she took a serious look at his wound. And she didn’t seem to be affected by the curse in his leg, which meant maybe she was immune to some of Jarle’s hexes. Still, it wasn’t a chance he was willing to risk. At least not yet, but maybe eventually Miranda could find a way to help him. “How did she end up bound to that Viking bastard?”

  Vidar pushed a file across the desk. “She was tending to one of the witch’s slaves. A big cat. She tried to help the shifter by arranging for a safe house when Jarle found out and then took Miranda. It is believed the bastard killed or magickally hypnotized everyone who was connected to Dr. Kendrick’s clinic. Pulling a few mind tricks on humans who would have questioned the act, would be easy for someone with his powers.”

  “Jarle gives witches a bad name.”

  “You don’t need to tell me,” Vidar said. “My mother was half-witch. I take offense to slime like that rotten bastard.”

  Callen paused. He closed the file and pushed it away. “What about her family? Is there no one looking for her?”

  Vidar shook his head. “She is an immortal wolf, but a new wolf, born only twenty-seven years ago. She was orphaned at a young age, taken in by her grandmother who taught her the skills of a witch. The woman died when Miranda was in college. She’s been on her own ever since and has no other relatives that my men could find.”

  “With no family to be concerned for her, Jarle could do anything to Miranda and never have to pay for it. No one probably even knows she’s missing. Miranda’s locket must be destroyed.”

  Vidar gave him a serious stare. “Be very careful, my friend. If you don’t break the binding spell first, the person whose heart aura rests inside the locket, will die.”

  He hadn’t thought about complications. “I appreciate the help, Vidar. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “Well, we are family now. And Katya would kill me if I didn’t help. So, I make the best of the situation.”

  “Maybe I can repay the favor one day.”

  The Viking smiled. “If I can think of anything, I will let you know.”

  Callen couldn’t wait to tell Miranda what Vidar’s men had discovered about her past, but he didn’t want to disturb his mate at this late hour. Miranda had been through enough today and allowing her a good eight hours of restful sleep was the least he could give her.

  He hoped she’d be pleased with the news. But even if she couldn’t come to terms with who she really was and what had happened to her, he still had to find a way to free her from Jarle. And with only six days left before Miranda had to go back to the witch, time was running short.

  Chapter Eight

  Miranda hadn’t seen Callen since dinner last night, but she figured getting to work first thing in the morning was best if she wanted to stop thinking about that damn phone call from Jarle. The witch’s scratchy voice had stayed in her head most of the night, costing her serious hours of sleep. She didn’t plan on losing a day’s work to the bastard, too.

  First up was a gold Celtic brooch in the form of a horse’s head.

  Reaching for the magnificent piece of jewelry, Miranda moved her hand through a ray of sunlight cutting across the table and highlighting her log book. The room’s three arched windows added the perfect amount of natural light to the space and that made her job of inspecting the artifacts easier.

  She scribbled in details of the horse-shaped pin, start
ing with the fact that it had survived in good condition, its three amber stones still intact. When finished, she moved the piece aside and went for a silver cuff etched with ornate scroll work, a wolf’s head at its center. The flourish reminded her of the intricate design on the silver beads Jarle wore in his hair. Dropping the artifact, she jabbed her hand into her jeans pocket and rolled the cool beads stored there against her fingers.

  A tingling sensation caressed her skin.

  She immediately pulled her hand back and rested it on the table. A vibrant white aura pulsed around her fingers, pricked her flesh like a thousand tiny needles, the active energy drawing nearby items to her, including the baggie that had previously housed the wolf cuff.

  Holy cow. Absorbing power from Jarle wasn’t something she’d ever done before. Maybe the air up here at Dundaire was magickal.

  A sudden sense of dread filled her.

  What the heck was she going to do with this new-found talent? Jarle’s magick was vile. She didn’t want to use it the wrong way.

  Shaking off the cuff’s baggie from her hand, she wiped her fingers against the front of her t-shirt, the white cotton fabric soothing her palm.

  The tingling in her fingers ceased, as did the pulsing aura.

  Her focus returned to the cuff. She’d hoped by starting early, and working alone, she’d get a chance to search the bins for Jarle’s mysterious locket, but the item remained elusive.

  “You didn’t come down to breakfast,” Callen said.

  She jumped and looked up, saw him standing in the doorway, his black hair having that slightly messy, just out of bed, tussled appearance. A gray cotton shirt and worn jeans added to his ruggedness. No man had a right to look that sexy. “I wanted to get a head start on cataloguing, since we didn’t get a full day’s worth of work in yesterday.”

  “I would have thought you’d prefer to discuss the report Vidar’s men sent over. Didn’t Rhys give you the message?”

  “He did, but I wanted to get this work done.” She wasn’t going to tell Cal about last night’s little talk with Jarle. “I appreciate you going out of your way for me with asking Vidar to help. But I’ve decided I don’t want anything from you. I just want to do what I came here to do and then leave.”

  Leaning on his cane, Cal entered the room and approached the table. “So, you want to steal my sword and go back to Jarle?”

  She held her head low. “No. I want to catalogue these crates and then go back to my master.”

  He watched her, intently. “Something’s wrong. And don’t lie to me because I can sense your anxiety.”

  “Last night I had time to think and I don’t want to involve you in my battle with Jarle.”

  “You won’t be able to escape the Viking on your own.”

  “I can try. And don’t worry, I have no plans on stealing your sword. But if I can have another, it will buy me time until I can figure out how to fight the witch.”

  “It’s not about the damn sword, Miranda.” He rested his cane against the back of a nearby chair and then reached for her hands. “We need to talk about what Vidar told me last night.”

  She wanted to talk about what Jarle had told her last night, but knew better. Callen MacHendrie might appear to be a tame man on the surface, but she didn’t know him. And even if Jarle had lied, and Callen and his family were innocent of the crimes the Viking had accused them of, she had the distinct feeling the Highlander would not take the news lightly. Which could lead to a huge war with Jarle. And garnering more trouble from that witch was not something she needed. “Fine. We can talk now. Here.”

  Cal frowned, but agreed. He let go of her hands, backtracked across the room and then closed the door.

  She moved the artifacts out of the way and rested her elbows on the table top. In the process a strip of masking tape came unglued from one of the baggies near the table’s edge and stuck to her t-shirt. “I’m all ears.”

  Callen sat down in the chair next to her. “First you have to understand that some of what I’m about to tell you might not seem logical. But it is all true.”

  “I live with a maniacal witch,” Miranda said. “Logic hasn’t been part of my world for two years.”

  Cal took a deep breath. A concerned look crossed his handsome face. “I don’t want to cause you any more pain than you’ve already been through, so I’m warning you, whatever you do, don’t panic at what I’m about to tell you or show you. Just know I will not harm you.”

  She quirked her lips. “You do realize you’re sounding a bit…touched in the head.” She twirled her finger at her right temple and whistled.

  “I’d rather have you think me crazy, then never know the truth.”

  She wondered if he’d feel the same if she told him what Jarle had accused him of last night. “Go ahead, I’m ready to hear whatever you have to say.”

  He shifted in the chair. “Miranda Kendrick is your real name. And you are a New Yorker, born and bred.”

  The news came as a relief. At least not everything about her past was lost. “If I really am Miranda Kendrick, we have a name to go by. Which means I must have some sort of paper or digital imprint that can get us more information.”

  “To a degree, yes. But apparently, you’re very good at covering your tracks.”

  She didn’t understand. “Okay. Now you’re starting to freak me out. Am I a mass-murderer or something?”

  He gave up a soft laugh, revealed his perfectly straight, white teeth. “No. Quite the opposite in fact. You’re a doctor. A veterinarian to be precise.”

  “That’s why I remembered the dogs.” She plucked the masking tape off her shirt and rolled it into a ball before sticking it on the table’s metal surface.

  Leaning forward, Callen offered her a serious stare, the gold flecks in his brown eyes seeming to grow brighter. “Dogs weren’t your only patients. You were helping one of Jarle’s slaves, a woman who wanted to escape the witch but couldn’t on her own. In the process Jarle learned what you were up to and that is how you came to be bound to him.”

  “But you said I was a vet. Why would I be helping a woman?”

  Cal swallowed. “This is going to be hard to accept, but you need to know.”

  She doubted anything could surprise her at this point. “I can take it. Working for Jarle placed me in some very funky situations.”

  “I wouldn’t call what I’m about to say, funky.”

  “Just tell me.”

  Callen hesitated, but only for a second. “The woman you were helping was a shapeshifter. A feline shifter.”

  She believed in magick and witchcraft, but people turning into animals? Impossible. “That can’t be.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Miranda. I have no reason to.” Cal slid off the chair. “I’m going to show you something and I don’t want you to freak out.”

  “Keep going.”

  Callen stepped away from the table. “Whatever I do, remember I won’t harm you. Don’t panic at what you’re about to see.” He closed his eyes, seemed to be concentrating on something very serious.

  Miranda folded her arms. MacHendrie might have a good heart, and a hot bod, but the guy was definitely missing a few marbles upstairs.

  Cal hunched. His hands shifted form, changed into paws. His entire body morphed. In a matter of mere seconds her sexy Scot had shifted into…a wolf. A real live, fur-covered wolf. His clothes were nowhere to be found, vanished just as had Callen’s human form.

  Her heart skipped a bit. And not in a good way.

  She inched off the chair.

  That overwhelming urge to howl returned. Was she a shifter too? Her lips curled into a snarl.

  “Don’t fear me, Miranda. I won’t bite.”

  “What?”

  “You’re snarling. Are you scared of me?”

  Oh. My. God. He was really in her head. “How did you do that?”

  “It’s called morphing”

  “No, not the physical thing, the getting into my head part. And no, I’m
not scared of you. The snarl was just…out of instinct, I guess. How long have you been able to read my mind?” She blushed at the thought Callen might have known about her four-poster bed fantasy. And what she was doing with him in said bed.

  “I just changed from human form into wolf and all you want to know is how can I get into your head? Aren’t you curious about the wolf part or anything else?”

  “I would like to know how old you are.”

  “I’m immortal. I’ve lived for more than a thousand years.”

  Jarle was right about Callen’s age. She wondered if that meant he was right about other things, too. “You don’t look a day over twenty-eight, twenty-nine.”

  “I told you before, looks are deceiving. It’s just the way things work with us. Everyone in my family looks young. When you meet my father, you’ll see what I mean.”

  She took a few steps forward and held out her hand, ran the tips of her fingers over Cal’s now gray-haired head.

  He nipped at her wrist. “Hey, you said you didn’t bite.”

  “No. I said I wouldna bite. There’s a difference. And that was a nip, not a bite.”

  She inched back and thought about what she’d just witnessed. If she could believe Jarle capable of capturing her heart’s aura in a locket, why not believe Callen MacHendrie could shift form? “The memory of me having paws for hands and feet. Do you think that was real or was Jarle just messing with my mind on that one?”

  “You’re my mate, Miranda. I know it for fact. You’re as much wolf as am I, but I believe you are also half-witch. Your grandmother was a witch.”

  It was nice to know something of her roots. But this whole wolf business intrigued her more for the moment. Now she knew why she’d had the urges to howl every now and then. “Are we humans who can take wolf form or the other way around? And how old do you think I am? As old as you? Am I immortal, too?”

  “We’re both humans who can shift into wolf. But the other kind do exist. As for your age, Vidar says you’re a new shifter. You’ve only been here for twenty-seven years. But yes, you’re immortal.”