LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      In these cold months he found himself more thankful than ever for his heritage, for the other half of his soul. The media would call him a ‘werewolf’ but anyone who knew a wolf would know that the nickname was frankly offensive. No, they were wolves, through and through. Dax couldn’t help but snort at the Hollywood version of his kind, though he could see where they got the impression. If you were a true wolf, you were born a wolf, none of this ‘oh I was bitten by a wolf and now I can turn into one’. That was ridiculous! His kind had been gifted the ability to shift into a full-blown, huge, very natural-looking wolf. When a pup went through their change at around the age of twenty-three, they released the power stored at their core. The pup ‘met’ their wolf for the first time and accepted the wolf. As a result they were given the ability to shift at will, to manipulate their body, to restructure the very skin on their back and transform it into that of the wolf.

      This half-man half-wolf version the media had decided on was, however, not entirely untrue. The Circle’s Magi were powerful magical beings that had chosen the dark path. Their blood magic was the strongest kind of magic known to any race. They could take over a tomb’s body and force it to do their bidding. A Magi could even use the tomb’s abilities, though because they weren’t born into that race, they had a particularly skewed idea on how to control it. As a result, if the tomb was born a shifter, when they joined the Circle and had their soul bound they lost the ability to shift. The only time they could make the change was if one of the Circle’s Magi willed it. And when they took over the tomb’s body and attempted to shift said tomb into an alternate form, they just couldn’t do it properly, they ended up changing the body into a half-man half-beast abomination, exactly the way the media portrays ‘werewolves’.

      Dax grimaced; he couldn’t stand the idea of losing his wolf, not being able to call to him whenever he needed to. He’d rather die. And he had no doubt that every member of his pack would feel the same. Julian, his Alpha and ruler of the pack, had once said ‘A life without your wolf is a life not worth living.’

      And he was absolutely right.

      Though these thoughts just made his heart break for Alison. Because by binding her soul, the High Lord also bound the soul of her wolf, the other half of her. And now she was without the very thing that made her who she was.

      He couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible that must be, how devastating.

      He needed to find her.

      Adjusting the straps on his rucksack, Dax prepared to shift. As soon as he was certain he was out of sight of inquisitive eyes, he called to his wolf, which leapt to the surface with ease. He’d done this a thousand times, changing from human to wolf was as natural to him as breathing. Nevertheless as the change began, he still felt his stomach do an awkward flip flop; nerves were something you could never get rid of.

      Especially now that he was making the change with a rucksack on his shoulders. Generally if you change with any items of clothing on, they get ripped to shreds as your body bends and breaks but Dax had trained himself over and over again. He’d just about got it down.

      Dax took a deep breath as the heat at the very center of him thundered its way through his flesh, wrapping around him, shielding him from the worst of the pain. He dropped to his knees, bracing his hands against the cold ground and let his wolf take over. The heat tingled its way to the very tips of his fingers; a shudder ran through him as he felt the change begin to take place.

      His body began to bow and stretch, his bones bending and reshaping, and his skin expanded as they did so, giving his muscles space to break down and reform. It was mighty painful. Maker only knew how their race had adapted to survive bones and flesh breaking and reshaping as they did. But hell, healing came naturally fast to them. Finally his face began to cave in on itself, the bone reknitting and forming a muzzle as his spine lengthened, shooting out to form a tail.

      After a short while his skin began to itch as fur grew out of it. It felt like hundreds of tiny needles rippling out in waves, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail.

      It usually only took seconds for his body to shift into wolf form, but this time it took a little longer. Dax had to concentrate on keeping his body in the same position, careful not to rip the straps of his rucksack in the process.

      When the change took place, Dax knew he was supposed to keep his mind clear of anything but his wolf. He wasn’t entirely sure why, though he was sure he didn’t want to find out. He had trained himself to keep his mind’s eye on his wolf, yet be completely aware of his body’s position. Dax needed to be sure he shifted properly and didn’t break the rucksack or his shoulders during the change.

      Eventually it was over. Dax stood on his hind legs and stretched, his neck cracking a little as he did so.

      He quickly checked himself over as best he could, all four paws, tail and ears, all in working order. His black fur shone under the moonlight, but otherwise he would be more or less invisible in this darkness.

      Dax was a rare wolf; he was completely black, nose to tail. Most had several colours lining their fur.

      The rucksack was thankfully still in place on his back, the straps still around his front paws and the clip across his chest had held strong.

      He had the fleeting thought that it would be a little funny should a human spot him – a giant black wolf wearing a backpack.

      He might even make front-page news!

      He snorted at the thought and pressed onwards. His paws were padded, and made little sound as he trotted through the wooded area of the Warren. He strained his ears against the night, listening out for any indication of life.

      He could hear the waves crashing against the stones about half a mile in front of him; there was something small scurrying across the grass a little further up.

      He paused, inhaling deeply, picking past the scents of the woodland, the trees, and the frost until he found the distinct scent of life, in all its smelly glory.

      It was a mouse, of course. Bit late in the year for a mouse to be out and not hibernating, he thought absently, padding slowly forward.

      Once he was sure he was the only threat in the woodland, Dax broke into an all-out run. He was much faster on four paws than he would have been on two feet and he managed to race the distance to the beach in a matter of seconds. The salty air became much thicker, making it difficult to smell much else.

      Not that it mattered. Alison’s scent would be long gone by now.

      The crashing of the waves intensified. They were almost deafening to his sensitive hearing, but it didn’t matter to him. He bolted along the stones of the beach, avoiding the spray of the waves as best he could and finally began to slow about a mile along the shore. He glanced up at the cliffs lining the seafront. His keen sight picked though the jagged rock and chalk until he found the discreet opening to a cave. He knew it was there; he’d been there a hundred times over the last three weeks. It was the last place Alison had been before they lost track of her GPS chip. Anger roared its way to the surface at the thought of that female, lost and alone in the hands of those bastards.

      He climbed the side of the cliff with ease, the sharp rock doing little to damage the surfaces of his paws. As he reached the mouth of the cave, he jumped into it and listened intently. Nothing. There had been nothing here since Alison had been taken weeks ago.

      Dax walked over to the heavy wooden door that stood at the back of the cave. It led to the sewer tunnels that ran the length of Folkestone.

      Not many people would know about this secret entrance – although the damn Circle had.

      Dax bit back a curse as he checked the security system he’d installed when they’d first found the cave. It was little more than a screen with two buttons, on and off. He nudged the ‘on’ button with his nose and placed a paw against the screen. The little scanner did a sweep of his paw and the word ‘accepted’ flashed up. Dax couldn’t help but be a little proud of his foresight. He’d programmed the security to accept both his human fingerprint and his wolf’s paw.

      The

Скачать книгу