Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(33)

With effort, he turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand. So far, Ariana had been unable to find any reference to the second Nyad War in the storage facility that was her Ilina queen’s brain. Of course, perhaps there had never been a second Nyad War, and he’d dreamed up the whole thing. How was he supposed to verify the veracity of information he shouldn’t even know? The whole thing made his gut cramp.

As he approached the dining room, Fox strode out through the doorway, a pair of large cloth bags hanging from each of his fists.

“Give me a hand, boyo?” Fox asked with a smile. “I’ve drawn short straw for the prison run.”

“Sure.” Wulfe backtracked and opened the door to the basement, then took one of Fox’s bags. He knew from experience they were filled with food and drink for their prisoners.

“Have you seen Jag this morning?” Wulfe asked as he followed Fox down the stairs.

“Aye. He seems to be fine. No change.”

Wulfe nodded, more relieved than he wanted to admit. None of them knew how long they had to live once they lost their animals.

“Did you hear about the female watching the place?” Together, they crossed the gym toward the hidden door at the back.

“Mage?”

“No. Either human or Therian. She parked her car along the road and was just starting up the drive when Vhyper spotted her. Before he could call for backup, in case it was some kind of trap, she lifted her hand, and yelled, ‘Wrong house,’ then backtracked to her car and drove away.”

Wulfe looked at him as he followed Fox through the door and into the long stone passage that led to the prisons. “What about that set off Vhyper’s alarm bells?”

“Nothing in particular. Not until he asked one of the Ilinas to follow and see where she went, and she drove straight out of the neighborhood.”

Wulfe frowned. “If she’d really approached the wrong house, she should have searched for the right one.”

“Aye, boyo. Precisely what Vhyper thought. We’re wondering if she’s a newly marked Feral who lost her nerve.”

“Did the Ilina stay with her long enough to know where she went?”

“No. Apparently tailing a vehicle while in mist form is extremely taxing. Lyon’s ordered the Ilinas to notify him immediately if either the vehicle or the woman are spotted again.”

Together, they entered the prison block where three newly marked Ferals languished in separate cells. None had been brought into his animal. They didn’t know any of the three well enough to be able to guess whether or not they were the ones their animal spirits had meant to mark. They could be either good or evil, and choosing wrong would sign Kara’s death warrant.

Wulfe set down his bag in front of Castin’s cell and pulled out three individually wrapped foot-long subs. Straightening, he handed them to the male through the bars.

“Any news?” Castin asked. Of all of the prisoners, Castin seemed the most accepting of his fate. From what they could tell, he was by far the oldest among them, possibly as ancient as the Shaman. He’d helped in the rescue of Kara from Inir’s stronghold, then returned to Feral House willingly, expressing his displeasure at being locked up with a tight jaw and little more.

When they’d first dragged this latest group of new Ferals down here, they’d discussed whether they should keep them in the dark about what was going on. The trouble was, they empathized with these men. And if the day came when they could free this group, bring them into their animals, and call them “brother,” they wanted to know they’d treated them as fairly as possible under these very trying circumstances.

“Inir is attempting to turn the blood he stole from Kara into unascended Radiant’s blood,” Wulfe told Castin. If their situations had been reversed, he’d be hungry for information, too. “It’s the prime ingredient he needs to open the Daemon Blade once the Ferals cease to register, but you probably know that as well as anyone.”

Just as a Feral had to be brought into his animal through ritual, so too did a new Radiant have to be ascended to her power. Months ago, Inir had arranged for their previous Radiant, Beatrice, to be killed so that the new one could be blooded before she was ascended, and that blood used to open the Daemon Blade. Not until the last minute had the Ferals figured out what was happening and thwarted that scheme.

“What are you doing to stop Inir?” Rikkert demanded from the next cell. The male had been bad-tempered from the moment he’d arrived.

“We’re working to get our immortality back, boyo,” Fox answered. “Jag lost the shift, or didn’t you hear? He can no longer access his animal. Inir has us over a barrel until we can reverse the effects of his dark charm.”

Wulfe passed three sandwiches to Rikkert, then moved to the last cell. The third male had arrived at Feral House a little over a week ago, hailing from Kenya. He’d said little when they’d explained the situation and forced him into the prison. He’d said nothing since. Wulfe didn’t even know his name.

The male rose and took the sandwiches with a nod, his dark eyes piercing, his expression enigmatic.

“One other thing,” Fox said as he handed out water bottles to the three prisoners. “We got a call from Lepard. Apparently he and Grizz are out West somewhere hunting for a woman who’s said to be able to see into a man’s soul. If they find her, they’ll bring her to us. Hopefully, she’ll be able to tell us which of our new Ferals were meant to be marked.”