Главная страница | Ужасы | Song Of The Wolf

Song Of The Wolf
Hannah Pole
When the lone wolf howls, you fight or dieHer soul cruelly ripped from her body, Alison cowers in her cell, unable even to call forth her inner wolf as comfort, her dreams of a mate and pups crushed. For who would have her now, even if she could escape alive?Dax is a lone wolf, operating on the fringes of his pack. No one messes with him, and that's just the way he likes it. Rescuing Alison from the High Lord's vile clutches is all he cares about, because there's something that calls his shattered soul to hers. As their world faces its biggest threat yet, the fragile bond between these two damaged creatures rallies the pack to fight the ultimate battle…for their souls and their very survival.



When the lone wolf howls, you fight or die
Her soul cruelly ripped from her body, Alison cowers in her cell, unable even to call forth her inner wolf as comfort, her dreams of a mate and pups crushed. For who would have her now, even if she could escape alive?
Dax is a lone wolf, operating on the fringes of his pack. No one messes with him, and that’s just the way he likes it. Rescuing Alison from the High Lord’s vile clutches is all he cares about, because there’s something that calls his shattered soul to hers.
As their world faces its biggest threat yet, the fragile bond between these two damaged creatures rallies the pack to fight the ultimate battle…for their souls and their very survival.

Book List (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Call of the Wilderness series
SILENCE OF THE WOLVES
SONG OF THE WOLF

Song of the Wolf
Call of the Wilderness: Book 2
Hannah Pole


Copyright (#ulink_0a8d6b2b-de21-52dc-b866-a243ed60e32a)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2013
Copyright © Hannah Pole 2013
Hannah Pole asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © November 2013 ISBN: 9781472054746
Version date: 2018-10-30
HANNAH POLE says:
I am a born and bred wild child. (I like to think so anyway!)
I moved to sunny Folkestone to escape and find my feet as, well, whatever I was destined to be. But, alas, my short attention span made finding my destiny a little difficult. One day I came across an old diary entry that made me laugh so hard I actually fell off my chair. (Yes, this really can happen!)
I decided that the entry was so funny; it needed to be shared with the world. So I started writing, and attempted to turn it into a novel. Though to this day that novel remains unfinished, it will always be the novel that got me started, and showed me what I was passionate about. I have aspired to be everything from a private investigator to a zoo keeper; my interests change so quickly that I could never stick to one. Writing gives me the freedom to choose; I can be a cold-hearted assassin in love with a poet one day and the secret lesbian lover of a politician the next!
All my life, I have had a strong, unwavering passion for anything supernatural, spiritual and slightly unexplainable. I love the idea that there can be something completely fantastical lurking beneath the confines of normality. So of course, mythical creatures of all shapes and sizes dominate most of my work.
In a nutshell, I am a creative, crazy bean, living with my lovely husband and a house full of too many animals. I’ve always secretly wished I were a werewolf of some description, but have come to realise that I will have to settle for writing about them instead! I’m happiest in the sun with my head in a good book! All I can say from here is, I hope you like what you read!

Acknowledgements (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Firstly, I want to give a huge thank you to my readers. You guys are awesome!!
The amount of love I’ve had for my writing has taken my breath away. I couldn’t do what I love without you all. So you have my eternal gratitude!
I would like to say a special thank you to Becca Misura and Kaiti for being such supportive readers. You both rock!
As always thank you to Daniel Pole, my lovely man. Thank you for supporting me through my dream. I know I can be a bit unsociable when I spend hours staring at my laptop yelling ‘babe, what do you think of this bit.’ But I really do appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me. That and the constant flow of coffee you provide me with… It keeps me going, it really does!
And to Anna, my editor, thank you for your patience and understanding. Without your help, I can honestly say all of my books would not be even remotely as strong as they are today. Your guidance and passion has given me the career I have always dreamed of!
I would also like to thank Vicky Castle for being my most enthusiastic, amazing best friend. My family Georgia Lycett, Liza, Mike, and William Townsend, I couldn’t have done this without your love and support. And to my epic critics Fang and Adam Stewart. You two kept me going through the hard parts and inspired me to write when I was at a loss for what to do next!
Thank you to all who have put up with my constant rambling, it is greatly appreciated and without you, I wouldn’t have made it this far!

Dedication (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
I would like to dedicate this book to all of you aspiring writers. This is a hard road to tread. The world can be a difficult place to walk through when you’ve poured your heart and soul into something as delicate as a novel.
Remember to always write for yourself, love your words and be passionate about your imagination. Keep writing!!

Contents
Cover (#u79780591-70cd-5c4f-985f-cc18e388b2f0)
Blurb
Book List
Title Page (#uf69019de-8b0c-58f5-9e41-1b11778f1212)
Copyright (#u54c68745-a0e2-53c8-8b2d-3530f5ac2188)
Author Bio (#ud0c15484-3188-5a69-912c-28d9ca923ee5)
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Coming Soon (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Alison wandered through the dense woodland surrounding her pack land enjoying the cool night air on her face. Tamriel and Leyth’s mating had been wonderful. Alison rejoiced in the fact that she was home and safe. But even as she thought it, her unease stirred, making her gut churn.
Something was very wrong; she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Alison pushed her fears aside and wrapped her arms around her shivering body as she pressed onwards. The rest of the pack was far out in the woodland, in wolf form. They would be hunting and playing, as was pack custom after a mating. Yet since the bastard-High Lord (as her brother would put it) bound her soul against her will, her body was slowly dying. And what was worse, he’d bound the wolf half of her soul as well. She was no longer capable of shifting into her wolf counterpart. That in itself was one of fate’s cruelest twists. She truly mourned the loss.
Something shuffled in the bushes up ahead, making her jump. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She was on pack land after all. There was nowhere safer than here. It was probably one of the twins, Reylix or Taevyn messing around, trying to scare her in jest. They were so stupid sometimes. Nonetheless, the twisting ball of fear in her gut intensified and she got moving back towards the mansion. The bushes rustled once more.
Alison flinched. There was definitely someone there.
“Who’s there?” she squeaked, hoping and praying it really was one of the twins. More rustling was the only response. Alison tried harder to ignore her gut. She was just being silly; her entire pack was roaming the woodland tonight. Surely it was one of them! She quickly moved in an attempt to see who was in the bushes.
“Hello, little wolf.” The raspy voice slid through the night from behind the tree. Oh no… It couldn’t be… “Thought we wouldn’t find you here?” His putrid breath tainted the air.
Alison turned to run, opened her mouth to scream. Oh dear Maker NO! But before she could so much as squeak, a heavy leather-clad hand shot out of the night and wrapped around her mouth. Alison fought the surge of panic with everything she had, biting down on the hand and forcing her limbs into action. She had to get away NOW. But before she had a chance to even try, another man appeared from behind the tree, silver wire dripping from his grip. A knife was thrust against her throat. The cool metal bit into her skin so harshly that blood welled to the surface. But she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She would rather die fighting than go back to the hell on earth these men had kept her in. They were some of the tuhrned. And the tuhrned were the Circle’s minions. If they were here it meant that that traitorous band of rebels was already back up and running. Good Maker, it meant the Circle must have a new leader.
Alison kicked and elbowed. She bit down on the hand at her mouth and twisted her head wildly in an attempt to get loose but all she succeeded in doing was making that knife sink further into her skin.
The second tuhrned bent down, wrapping silver wire around her kicking ankles, making her whimper in sheer pain as the metal seared her skin. She cursed her race’s aversion to the metal. It was the one thing wolves were powerless against, and goddamn, it really hurt! Burning through flesh like a hot knife through butter, scalding her skin until pain became all she could feel, and the scent of it hung in her nose making her gag.
Still she fought, thrashing against them until blood loss made her woozy. The two half-dead men didn’t seem fazed. Didn’t care.
As she became too weak to put up any more of a fight, they dragged her backwards, her arms and ankles screaming in protest as the wire sank deeper still.
The man holding her by the throat leaned down, his mouth so close to her face that his breath washed across her nose, making her gag.
“We’ve got your soul, little wolf. And the new High Lord wants to meet you,” he hissed.
Alison screamed with everything she had but none of it made so much of a dent in the night’s silence. The heavy hand over her mouth muffled any noise she managed to rip loose and when she tried to draw air into her lungs, those heavy hands stuffed a vile-tasting rag into her mouth, forcing her to choke and bite down on it as they roughly stuck tape across her lips.
The tuhrned shoved a bag over her head. It was damp and smelled of death and blood. She screamed as much as she could, but was only too aware of how little sound was coming out. With that, the bastard wrapped silver wire around her already broken and bleeding throat, keeping the bag in place as she was dragged off of her home land and away to Maker only knew where.
All she could think was that her entire pack, every single member of her family, was out roaming the woods. SOMEONE was close, someone was within metres of them but no one was coming to help. She kicked and thrashed her feet on the ground trying to make as much noise as she could but no one came. No one heard her.
Alison was stuffed into the back of a vehicle and as the engine roared to life she wept. She had been taken from her own home. These bastards had taken her from her family AGAIN.
And no one knew she was gone.

Chapter One (#uc7598435-1905-5525-beb7-9552d32d2363)
Three weeks. It had been THREE damn weeks since Alison had been taken. Dax was all but going mad. He couldn’t stand how long it had been. They should have found her by now.
To keep himself sane, he had literally spent every second he could out looking for her and tonight, he’d hit the jackpot – one of the Circle’s underground bases.
“Dax, you IDIOT. You could have been killed. We’re five minutes away. Why the hell couldn’t you have waited for us?” Leyth’s gruff voice barked through the mini-coms. The minuscule speaker pinned into his ear meant he could hear everything Leyth and the rest of the team said, and the miniature microphone clipped into his mouth meant they could hear everything he said.
So he kept his mouth shut.
Scanning the room, he couldn’t help the vicious smile that curled his mouth. These bastards hadn’t known what had hit them when he’d forced his way in. All around him were the scattered bodies of the tuhrned. Those traitors weren’t dead yet though. They were more zombie than person. The only way to kill them was to cut the head off. But Dax hadn’t wanted to kill them. He’d wanted to question them.
Alison’s kidnapping had left him more than a little empty; his very soul ached at the loss of her. Perhaps that loss had made him somewhat brutal in his fighting style and frankly they deserved everything they got. He just wanted to question these bastards and get his female back. The female. A member of his pack. That was all there was to it.
“You,” he barked at the tomb closest to him. Leyth had always called the ‘tuhrned’ tombs because they were essentially dead men walking. They should be in a tomb, not ‘alive’ and fighting the High Lord’s war. And this one was no exception to that. His rotting grey skin looked bloated, swollen, only exaggerating his pale thinning hair and his dark-rimmed, sunken eyes. Oh Maker, the smell? Rotten.
“Look at me,” Dax barked at the tomb.
“What do you want?” the zombiefied man spat, wincing in pain as his jaw moved.
“What, no Magi to help you with the pain? To possess your body so you can be free of your putrid flesh?” Dax snorted. “You don’t deserve to be free of pain. You soulless traitor.” OK, so perhaps breaking every bone in the tomb’s body was a little harsh but these ‘men’, if you could call them that, had played one helluva part in Alison’s kidnapping. They killed and kidnapped, raped and pillaged at every turn and what’s more they had literally sold their souls to the devil.
“WHERE IS SHE?” Dax roared, leaning in so he was face-to-face with the tuhrned.
“W-ho…?” he groaned.
“WHERE is the female wolf YOUR High Lord took three weeks ago?” Dax hissed.
“I don’t know,” the tomb whispered.
“WHERE?” Dax positioned himself so that he was pressing his weight on the tomb’s broken body.
“I don’t know!” The tomb squealed, tears dampening his cheeks. Dax took his weight from the zombie’s body. Frankly he was surprised the High Lord hadn’t taken the tomb over by now. He did after all have the power to possess his minions at any point, it was the reason he bound their souls. Apparently it made it easier to use them as vessels to do his bidding.
“But I know he liked the feel of her.” The tuhrned’s cruel laughter filled the silence. Anger swept through Dax, the sheer force of it almost knocking him off his feet.
“WHAT did you say?” he thundered.
“I SAID, he likes the feel of your female’s body, wolf,” the tomb spat, laughing and spluttering.
Dax didn’t give him time to catch his breath, just picked the tomb’s broken body from the ground and slammed it into the closest wall. He could barely see past the anger tainting his vision with red, fury rushing through his veins.
“YOU,” he spat, slamming the bastard’s body back into the ground, “do NOT –” he picked him up by his hair and held him by the throat against his chest “– EVER get to speak about her like that,” Dax roared, tightening his grip on the tomb.
“She is worth more than you could ever dream, traitor.” He growled the words at the zombie, choking him with everything he had. His fingers pressed into the tuhrned’s throat, sinking into his flesh with ease. The putrid fluid causing its skin to bloat parted beneath his nails as he sliced the skin open, vile fluid and blood trickling across his fingertips…
“DAX. Hell no!” Leyth shouted, storming in and ripping the tomb free from Dax’s grip. The male’s night-dark hair and powerful body dominated the small, dingy basement. “Get him home.”
“NO!” Dax protested. “He might know something. I’m damn well questioning him.” He tried to force his voice to sound level, but hatred for that tomb boiled his blood, making his words come out short and vicious.
“HOME,” Leyth barked, pointing towards the door. “Raught. Take him. I’ll deal with this.”
Raught stalked forward, putting himself between the two of them.
“Come on, my friend. Food will do you some good and then you can get back into the field,” he reasoned, but Dax ignored him. Instead he took a slow deliberate step towards the tomb.
“You will talk. Or I will make you,” he growled at the rotting bastard’s sneer.
“Seriously Dax…” Raught moved, wrapping a strong arm around Dax’s.
“What the FUCK?!” Dax roared spinning around, ripping his arm out of Raught’s grip so harshly that the male almost staggered over.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me.” Dax was on his pack elder in a heartbeat, wrapping a fist around the male’s throat and pointing a finger in his face.
“Fuck, Raught,” he spat, the heated red of sheer anger filling his vision, soaring through his veins like fire.
Another heavy set of hands landed on his shoulders, tugging him backwards.
“HELL NO!” Dax spat, launching himself across the room, eyes so blurred he barely saw who he was swinging at.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he roared, burying his fist in the stomach of whoever had grabbed him. Another set of hands grabbed at his arms hauling him backwards.
“Get the hell off!” Dax caught the wrist of whoever was holding him and thrust them away with enough force to send them clattering into the wall behind.
A deafening growl assaulted his eardrums making his already tense body ripple in anticipation of the coming fight. Dax did not like to be touched. Not ever.
Someone moved behind him, something he felt rather than saw, and in less than a second he was crushing the assailant’s windpipe in his fist, the idiot’s body dangling from his death grip. That growl rippled out again and it took a few seconds of doing nothing but breathing for Dax to realise that the deep vicious sound was actually him. Blinking rapidly, his vision cleared, the red haze retreating and sanity returning. This shit with Alison really had him geared up. Everyone knew he didn’t like being touched. They knew that.
As the world came back into view he could see Raught crushed up against the wall, choking against Dax’s own hand. Leyth and Taevyn, his pack brothers, had a careful grip on each of his shoulders and were desperately trying to pull him off their pack elder. And Dax was just stood there growling like a rogue wolf, attacking members of his own pack.
“Whoa there, wolf.” Raught, the pack elder, held his hands up, his silver hair swinging over his shoulder as he struggled against Dax’s grip to shove his face into his line of sight.
“Chill!” he spluttered.
“Fuck,” Dax spat, quickly loosening his grip on the male.
“Dax, I am not fighting you on this.” Raught dropped to the ground but caught himself. Squaring his shoulders and gingerly rubbing his raw red throat, Raught carefully stood outside of Dax’s reach.
“You’re coming with me, like it or not.” His grey eyes locked onto Dax’s, the strength and compassion behind them made him actually want to calm down. Yet Raught’s pity made him feel sick at the same time. Dax handled sympathy about as well as he handled being touched.
He was a grumpy arsehole. Everyone knew that. Hell, he knew that. But since Alison had been kidnapped he was worse than ever. No one was safe around him. He needed to question these tombs, get some answers, find Alison and return to his almost normal life. And he couldn’t do that from pack land.
“I’m staying.” He cast a sideways scowl at the tomb on the ground, who was still laughing.
“Look, mate, you need to go check your systems. If Alison’s chip shows up you do not want to be here and unprepared,” Raught reasoned. Dax could see him treading incredibly carefully around the words he was saying. All of the pack were like that around him. They all treated him like a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any moment.
“Come on, Dax. You know Leyth will question him.”
“NO!” Dax barked.
“Mate. I’m more than capable of questioning a few tombs,” Leyth assured him.
Dax didn’t say anything, just started walking towards the rotting zombie.
“Hell no, mate. I damn well said…”
“Don’t start with me, Leyth,” Dax snapped as Leyth stepped in front of him, puffing his chest out and curling a tight fist. Dax’s whole body tensed, ready to take his friend and pack mate down if necessary.
“Males.” Raught carefully stepped between them. “Leyth, you know Tamriel will kick the shit out of both of you if she finds out you’ve been fighting. And Dax. For Maker’s sake, check Alison’s GPS, eat some damn food and then get back out in the field. You need to update Julian anyway.”
Dax sighed. He knew the wolf was right. He did need to check his computer systems. Alison had a GPS chip in her neck but they had taken her so far underground that it had lost signal. And Julian, his pack Alpha and Alison’s brother, did need an update.
“Fine. Let’s go.” He stalked forward leaving Raught jogging to catch up with him and climbed into his beat-up old Ford to get back to pack land.
Eventually Dax found himself stalking the length of Julian’s office.
Maker only knew he’d spent most of the last three weeks doing exactly that.
“You could have died, Dax,” Julian spat at him; the male’s long blond hair was tied into a thick braid that swung violently over his shoulder as he slammed a heavy fist on his desk, cracking the wooden surface.
“Like I give a crap,” Dax hissed. “We need to be in the field, constantly.” He locked his eyes on to Julian’s. “Alison is still out there.”
“Don’t you think I know that!” his Alpha roared, “She’s my goddamn sister. I’ve been out every damned day looking for her, I can’t sleep at night because I’m so worried –”
“Then why don’t you come hunting with me at night?” Dax cut him off.
“Because,” Julian barked, “I’m not an idiot. We need to sleep and eat, Dax. Otherwise when we do finally find her we will be too weak from the lack of sustenance to fight to get her free.”
“Well, I can’t do it,” Dax growled. “I can’t be here, lounging, living, when I know she’s out there. I just can’t do it, Julian.”
Dax slumped his tired body down in the giant leather chair that sat on the opposite side of Julian’s oversized desk. Resting his forehead briefly in his hands he took a deep breath. They’d had this argument over and over again. Julian was working himself into the ground looking for Alison and Dax knew it. The problem was that he couldn’t physically stop.
He rarely returned to pack grounds unless he was dragged back by one of his pack brothers. He spent every minute of the day and night out searching for that female.
Why? Because she was pack-kin and that was all there was to it.
He just couldn’t stand the idea of the new High Lord with his hands all over her. He hadn’t slept in weeks. He hadn’t eaten in days.
He didn’t care. He needed to get back out there.
He had to find her.
“For Christ’s sake.” Julian heaved a great sigh and waved a hand at him. “Go and have a shower. You stink. Go and eat something. And if you have to go back out, take the Djinn with you. Don’t kill yourself, Dax, you’re no good to Alison dead.”
Dax nodded at his Alpha, stalking out of the huge room Julian called an office. The blood-red walls and gold trim weren’t exactly calming anyway. He quickly made his way through the foyer to the mansion and into the kitchen.
“Hi, Dax. Want me to fix you a sandwich?” Sarah’s happy face appeared in front of him. The female’s bouncy curls framed her face and she looked a little flushed. She’d obviously been stood over the cooker for a while.
“Hi, Sarah. Nah, I’m just gonna grab something from the fridge,” he grunted at her, avoiding eye contact. The long stainless steel worktops suddenly became incredibly interesting. So did the tiled floor. In fact anything that wasn’t that female was better to look at.
She was too goddamn cheery for his liking.
Swiftly grabbing at some leftover pizza from the counter, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed. It was a mechanical motion; he didn’t even taste the stuff. But Julian was right. If he was too weak to fight, he would be no good whatsoever to Alison. He grabbed a bottle of vodka to wash the pizza down with. The spirit had a healthy sting to it that briefly flared warmth through his stomach. Keeping the bottle with him, he walked out of the kitchen and into the mansion’s car park.
“Hey, Dax.” Tamriel’s husky tone hit his ears as he began to walk towards his beat-up old car.
“Hey, Tam,” he grunted.
“Need some company, my friend?” Leyth, who had obviously finished cleaning up his mess and returned home, stepped forward.
“Nah. Just going for a drive.”
“Sure.” Tamriel stuck her head in his line of vision, her bright green eyes narrowing as they met his. Her red-streaked black hair flowed out behind her in the wind. “Look, if you find anything call me.”
“Will do,” Dax grunted, half turning away from her.
“I mean it.” She bullied her way back in front of him.
“Yup.” He turned back towards the car but not before he caught her rolling her eyes at him, as she turned to leave.
OK so yes, she was a strong female, and yeah they had infiltrated the Council’s headquarters together when the Circle had taken over and tortured Leyth to literally within an inch of his life.
And yes. He respected the hell out of her.
But it irritated the hell out of him that she was no longer bothered by him, she wasn’t scared of his anger and she wasn’t offended by his shortness.
It was annoying.
Even so, he couldn’t hide the smallest of grins as he looked back at the two of them walking off into the woods, hand in hand. They were truly made for each other.
Leyth was one damn lucky wolf.
Dax cracked the door of his beat-up old Ford and slid into the leather seat. The car smelled of age and blood but he didn’t give a crap.
He whipped out his phone and sent a quick text to Jake. Dax knew that he would be with his brother Jones; those two Djinn were practically joined at the hip. He rolled his eyes at the thought of them; they were the most bitchy drama queens on this side of the Kingdom.
And some of the strangest looking creatures in the world.
The Ford’s old engine started on the first try. Dax shoved it into reverse and sped out of pack land and onto the road into Folkestone.
The drive didn’t take long; he wasn’t exactly worried about breaking the speed limit at the moment, some things were just more important.
He raced through the streets of the town and up towards the part of the beach known as the Warren.
As the golf course that stood above it came into view, he slowed down, scanning the area. Absolutely nothing. Fantastic.
He slid the car into park and hefted the door open, climbing out.
The wind blasted him as soon as he stepped into the cold but he barely felt it, the wolf half of his soul was already heating his core, wanting out.
Dax made quick work of stripping off his jeans and jacket, shoving them into the back seat of his car. It was sheltered enough here for passing cars not to see him and hell, it was nearly midnight, no one in their right mind would be out walking at this hour. He grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a quick swig, before splashing some of the liquid over the worst of his wounds.
Today’s fighting had been pretty brutal. He’d found a Circle base and had raided the damn thing before backup got there. Then Leyth had sent him packing. He scowled at the thought.
He hissed as the liquid sloshed over an ugly gash on his side. It probably needed stitches but hell that would take time. And knowing Doc, he would probably order Dax to take time out of the field to heal. Maker only knew that wasn’t going to happen. Nope, vodka-disinfectant and natural healing would have to do for now.
Slamming the car doors shut and locking them, Dax slipped the rucksack that contained his knives, phone and laptop onto his back and jogged into the wooded area, naked as the day he was born. The ground was icy beneath his feet, but the heat at his core was so strong it licked through his flesh, making the frost around him melt quickly.
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 loading screen on the tiny monitor finally gave way to the security system footage from the last two days; there hadn’t been a breach anywhere in this section of the tunnels. Crap.
Dax had set infrared lasers across the tunnels that spread throughout Folkestone and the cliffs. Anyone who entered wouldn’t know they were there but Dax would. Mind you, had he really expected the Circle to go back to the scene of the crime? No. Probably not.
He pawed his way back over to the opening to the cave; from up here he could see most of the coastline. On a clear day you could likely see France.
The light of the moon bounced off the surface of the waves, making them sparkle.
His mind was ablaze with questions, none of which he could answer.
Exhaustion swept over him. He hadn’t slept a wink since Alison was taken. Sure, he’d had a five minute nap here and there but he hadn’t actually let sleep take him. He was getting to the point of delusion, unable to concentrate for long and the smallest of things seemed to take it out of him.
He was a wolf, and a strong one at that. Yet the short trip from the car to the cave had his limbs aching to the point of giving up and his heart racing.
He closed his eyes, and heaved a great breath. Maybe Julian was right. Maybe he should look after himself a little more.
But how could he when Alison was out there?
As darkness swept over him, the sound of the crashing waves died. The salty air caressing his nostrils disappeared and nothingness took over. Dax let his mind go, the unanswered questions disappearing for just a moment as he gave in to silence. It was peaceful.
“Dax?” a small voice squeaked. It sounded a hell of a lot like Alison. It was probably his mind playing tricks on him.
Even so, he held onto the sound of her voice, memorising it.
“Dax?” Her voice rang out a little louder. He bolted upright, his head spinning.
He scanned the area, eyes desperately searching for her. Stony beach, waves, jagged rocky path up to the opening of the cave. No beautiful blonde female.
“Alison?” he whispered, looking around the cave itself. He’d obviously shifted back into human form in his sleep; he sat on the rock, naked and baring all to the world. Yet the rock wasn’t cold against his skin. In fact everything seemed to be exactly the perfect temperature. Not hot. Not cold.
The cave looked different; hell, the beach looked different.
It was still night but everything was covered in a faint mist. The world had lost all its colour. The sea, the rock, the stones on the beach, they were all just different shades of grey.
It could be a trick of the brain; it was the middle of the night after all.
But Dax wasn’t so sure. He’d seen this before in his dreams. In fact, this grey world was something he saw frequently when he slept. He would go to sleep and almost instantly wake up again, in the world he knew but everything was different. Grey-tinted and empty. It was almost as if he’d stepped onto another plane of existence.
When he was a pup his mother had talked of astral travel. His mother had always said she had the ability to walk ‘the grey planes’, the realm of the afterlife, where souls went before they moved on. But he’d always assumed he couldn’t go there, that his short trips to this world were obviously just dreams. Something he had convinced himself of since he was a little boy.
“Dax?” Alison’s voice brought him back to reality.
“Alison? Where are you?” he said, scanning the beach, the edge of the rocky cliff once again.
“Behind you.” Her voice whispered through his mind, and he spun around making his stomach roll.
There she was, in all her glory.
Her long blonde hair looked grey, but still just as beautiful, cascading down over her pale thin shoulders. He frowned as he noticed that she’d swept the length of it over her neck as if she was cold. Alison’s eyes locked onto his. Though they were now just another shade of grey, he knew they truly were a beautiful blue.
“What’s happening?” she whispered, hugging her bare knees closer to her chest. She too was completely naked, and trying desperately to cover herself.
“I don’t know,” Dax admitted, frantically searching for something to cover her with and coming up empty.
“Is this a dream?” she said. He could see the tears that were threatening to spill sparkling in the moonlight. To hell with this, he thought, standing up and walking towards her, covering his manhood and keeping his back away from her line of sight. His body was not a pleasant thing. He crouched next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into him.
“Whatever it is, I’m so damn glad you’re here,” he whispered into her ear as she leant into him.
For a while they just sat there, dazed. Dax was pretty sure this was a dream. In real life, he wouldn’t dare get this close to Alison.
In real life, she wouldn’t let him touch her. He wouldn’t even try.
Either way he was absolutely lost for words. He’d known this female for almost all of her life, since she was just a young pup! He’d begun working for Julian many years ago and had watched Alison grow into the beautiful female she was now.
He’d always been there on the side-lines. Looking out for her.
But now? He was holding her in his arms and he felt like an absolute idiot.
Lost for words.
“I was thinking about you,” she murmured, shifting her head to look up at him.
“What?” he grunted, cursing himself internally.
“I–I was trying to sleep. It’s so cold where they’re keeping me. I was thinking of home. I thought of you…and then I was here.”
Yeah. He must be dreaming. Maybe he wanted to find her so badly his subconscious decided to create a dream in which he could see her.
“Where are they keeping you?” he whispered. It was unlikely that this was going to help, but hey, he might as well ask.
“I don’t know,” she choked. Figures.
“It’s OK, baby girl. We will find you,” he soothed, stroking her hair.
“Why are you on a cliff?” she asked after a while, which struck him as odd. If his mind was creating a dream, his imagination’s version of Alison would know why he was here, surely?
“Because this is the last place your GPS chip showed up on the map.”
“That makes sense.” She sat up a little straighter, although she was still desperately trying to keep her body hidden from him. “When they took me, they blindfolded me. I couldn’t see anything. But I could hear the sea for a while.”
Dax turned around, holding her at arm’s length. Scanning her face, he noticed a thin scar that wound its way around her throat. That hadn’t been there before.
Surely his mind would generate an image of Alison exactly as he’d known her?
“Where did you get this?” he asked, gently brushing a thumb over the mark.
“They –” She hastily wrapped her arms around herself, hiding her body from him and cleared her throat. “They bound me with silver. It burned.” Only then did he notice the thick scars across her arms and wrists. Deep gouges where skin was missing. He carefully moved his gaze to her face and kept it there. She obviously didn’t want him to look at her injuries.
“Alison,” he said sternly, regretting the sharpness in his voice as soon as he’d spoken. She flinched at his words, snapping her gaze up to meet his face.
“Tell me what happened when they took you,” he said more softly, wrapping his arms around her, letting her lean against him.
“I was walking in the woods,” she said, fidgeting with her hair. “There were two tuhrned hiding, following me. They told me –” She swiped a stray tear from her face.
“It’s OK,” Dax whispered, “take your time.”
It broke his heart to see her like this.
“They told me the new High Lord wanted to meet me. They said that because they’d bound my soul –” She cleared her throat, visibly trying to pull herself together. “They said that they could find me anywhere. Because it was their magic that bound me.”
“What happened next?” Dax asked, a sense of urgency washing through him.
“They tied my arms and legs together and put a bag over my head,” she squeaked. “They put me in a car and drove for a while. I don’t know where to, but it wasn’t far. I could hear the sea when they took me out of the car. They carried me somewhere. It felt like they were struggling to walk. It was cold and smelled like the beach. I could hear the waves crashing as though they were next to me. I don’t know what the Circle put me in, but it was wet and horrible. It felt like we were floating. As soon as they’d dragged me inside…” She faltered. “I don’t know what or where. The sound of the waves stopped. It was so abrupt… it confused me.”
“It’s OK, baby girl, I’ve got you.” Dax hissed, struggling to make his voice sound even and tightening his grip around her.
“I was inside a room of some description that didn’t feel like it was moving. It was really quiet,” she told him. “Eventually they moved me to somewhere that smelled like a sewer. It was horrible. I could hear water lapping slowly against the walls but I didn’t know where or why. Finally, they took the bindings off and removed the hood. They locked me in a cell that smells horrible; it’s damp and cold. I have a bed and a blanket but little else.”
“It’s OK, Alison. I’ll find you.” Dax soothed her, stroking her hair, trying to chase away the tears that were freely falling now.
“DAX.” A voice reverberated through his mind. It was a male voice.
“Did you hear that?” he hissed at Alison.
“Hear what?” She looked at him confused. “What’s happening to you?” she squeaked, eyes wide. He glanced down at his own arm, which was rapidly fading; his formally thick and human looking skin began to grow transparent. He could see the rock beneath him through his own damn flesh.
“DAX. WAKE UP.” The voice bounced though his mind, making him wince. Crap, someone was trying to wake him up. He was going to leave this weird dream.
“Alison,” he said, urgency wrapping its way around him. “I’m going to have to go.”
“Please don’t leave me!” She choked, gripping his arm for dear life.
“I’m sorry, baby girl, I don’t have a choice.”
“Please!” she whispered frantically.
“Alison, listen to me.” He gripped her hands in his. He didn’t have much time left. “You need to break out of that cell.”
“I can’t,” she moaned.
“You can,” he said, maybe more harshly than was necessary. “You need to get out of there and get above ground. We can’t find your GPS chip all the time you’re underground. You have to get somewhere where the satellite can pick it up.”
“But how –”she whispered, but he barely heard it. He was fading away. The image of her was little more than a shadowed blur.
“You can do it, Alison. You have to,” he shouted at her. “Be strong.”
With that the world around him faded, the grey cave shuddering and giving way to blackness. He closed his eyes against the shadows and held on to the image of Alison’s beautiful face. He was going to find that female.
If it was the last damned thing he did.
“Dax. Wake the hell up.” Jake’s voice pierced his eardrums like knives.
“You goddamn idiot,” Dax spat, sitting bolt upright, making his head spin and his stomach roll. Though he tried to speak it sounded more like a growl.
Crap. He realised he was still in wolf form. Sat on the edge of the cave looking out over the sea. His limbs were stiff, and his whole body was cold right to the core.
He’d obviously been asleep for a long old time.
“Sorry, mate, can’t understand you when you look like a dog.” The Djinn chuckled, his blond hair blowing absently in the breeze. Jake was probably one of the most beautiful looking people on the planet, but it was completely fake.
Djinn of course had no body features; they were completely devoid of form, with slits for eyes, and an undefined opening for a mouth. Their bodies were creepy as hell too; they had no shape to them whatsoever, no breasts, and no genitals. Thankfully they could shift their bodies at will, taking on characteristics of humans, making them look more normal. And they could walk through walls.
Djinn had the ability to make their bodies go completely spectral and become ghostlike. And because of their ability to skin shift, they were some of the most insecure, bitchy beings on this side of the kingdom.
Dax growled at him, low and hard. He was an idiot for waking him up.
“Look, buddy. You obviously need to sleep. Do it at home,” he snapped, standing up in the small space of the cave and pointing out towards the road.
The Djinn was right; Dax did need to get home, but not to sleep.
He needed to do some research.

Chapter Two (#ulink_0a8d6b2b-de21-52dc-b866-a243ed60e32a)
Alison woke with a start, the image of Dax’s strikingly well-defined face still in her mind. He looked so tired; his dark grey eyes looked almost black and were ringed with dark shadows. His black hair was long and straggly, like he hadn’t washed or brushed it for a while, and he had more stubble on his chin than she’d ever seen him with. His chest was still broad and muscled but she could see his ribs, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in a while. Worry snaked its way into her gut but she pushed it away. It was only a dream, right?
Even so, for the first time in weeks she woke with a smile.
The coldness sank in, her body groaning in response as she moved.
She ached from head to toe, her bones frozen, her body battered. She could barely feel her fingers any more. This cold was unbearable, especially without the warmth of her wolf. The oh so familiar heat at her core that represented the other half of her soul had disappeared leaving her empty and alone.
Alison cursed her luck, cursed it to the fiery depths of the Under Realm. She’d been captured by the Circle months ago, tortured and bound. Tamriel had rescued her but Maker only knew that she hadn’t felt safe since she’d been at home with her pack. She knew they would come for her and she had been right.
They had come for her. They’d taken her away and rebound her with the new High Lord’s magic. She shuddered at the memory.
The stench of the cell they kept her in wafted through her senses, making her gag. Thankfully her stomach had stopped growling; maybe it had finally realised they were only going to feed her the bare minimum.
You need to get above ground.
Dax’s voice reverberated through her. She was fairly certain that it was just a strange dream, yet she was grateful for it.
She’d been here for weeks, hoping, wishing that someone would come and rescue her. It had never occurred to her that perhaps they might not be able to read the GPS chip in the back of her neck because she was underground.
She smiled at her subconscious logic! Mayhap it was the memory of Dax that sparked that knowledge.
Though it was just a creation of her mind, that short moment with the image of him gave her new-found hope. Fresh determination.
She was at breaking point, on the verge of giving up on life. Now though she had something to work towards. Now she had a plan to create.
Now… She looked forward to her next encounter with the two tombs that guarded her rather than feared it, because she knew exactly what to do.
Alison sat on the mattress, listening intently for sign of any tuhrned coming to collect her. They’d gotten sloppy over time, and that would be their downfall. There were no windows in her cell and only one door that was heavy and locked.
Nearly there, she thought. She’d been picking apart the stitching on the mattress for a good hour or so, and finally it was giving way to a small hole, just big enough to get her fingers through. She paused again, listening to the noises around her.
She could hear her guards talking, laughing. There was the chink of glass on a table, and someone was shuffling something? Paper?
She assumed they were playing cards.
They really had gotten sloppy in the last week or so, maybe because she’d visibly given up fighting them. Now they weren’t twitchy and prepared to fight her when they came to give her food, water or…something else.
She internally cringed, as the memories hit her again.
She shoved them aside as best she could. They were drunk most of the time. They had grown used to her passiveness, her not being able to fight them because she was on the verge of starvation and death.
She was an easy target.
Or so they thought.
As the final stitch she’d been working on with her fingernail came free, she grinned, an expression that felt alien to her features these days. She dipped her cold, bony fingers through the small hole she’d created and pulled out some of the stuffing from the mattress. She kept pulling it free until her fingers brushed against the very thing she was looking for – the spring.
It took a good few minutes of tugging and teasing the wire before the spring came free but it did eventually.
She held the wire up in front of her.
The room was pitch black. They were so deep underground there was no natural light whatsoever, and the heavy door to her cell didn’t have a single crack in it, so no light seeped through there either.
She’d been kept in this fucking cell for so long now that her eyes had grown used to the darkness; her night vision had steadily increased, even though the rest of her body had begun to fail. As a result, as she held the curled bouncy bit of wire in front of her, she could see it clearly. This was exactly what she needed.
It took her a few minutes to get a second piece out of the mattress and she tugged a long piece of thread from the material too. She had to hide the wire somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.
She had thought of slipping it into her jeans pocket, but she doubted she’d have time to get it out once they arrived. Her clothes didn’t seem to last long when those sick bastards where around.
Carefully she braided her long mane of blonde hair. Even tied as it was it still fell to her hips. She used the piece of thread she’d pulled from the mattress to tie the end of the braid, keeping it in place, then carefully slid the two pieces of wire into the middle of the plait. It should hide them, just long enough for her to get out of her cell anyway.
Alison knew they would come soon. They usually visited her once a day to ‘wash’ and feed her. She dreaded their presence. Knowing what they were going to do made her skin crawl and bile rise into her throat.
She had spent most of her time in this horrible place trying to avoid them but nothing had worked so far. The High Lord had thankfully stopped coming of late; the Magi had visited her once a day, taken her down to a room somewhere beneath her cell, the same room where he had bound her. Bile rose at the thought, fresh tears stinging her eyes, but she violently shoved them aside. That memory was something she was going to push into the deepest depths of her mind and never think of, never speak of.
She knew he wouldn’t be coming to day; he had been so angry on his last visit, as he had been every time he’d come. He’d cut her so many times with various ritual knives, made her bleed on that stone and chanted so many different spells as he did and nothing had ever worked.
Maker only knew she had no idea what he was trying to do, but every time whatever it was hadn’t worked, he’d taken it out on her.
He’d stopped coming a few days ago, and that in itself was one small mercy. She only had these two brutes to deal with currently.
And though she had spent her days and nights dreading their visits, now she looked forward to it. Now she had a plan.
Alison sat in silence on the mattress waiting for them.
As she contemplated what she planned to do, she couldn’t help the stab of fear that hit her in the gut. She was not like Tamriel and Sapphire, she was not a strong female who could fight and hold her own in battle.
She hadn’t been trained for it. Alison had been trained to be a good mate and to bear children. Nevertheless, her spirit was strong, new-found hope fuelling her.
Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. As she waited, her body pumped with the stuff, making her heart race and her mind hum with a strange combination of dread and excitement.
She could do this. She had to.
Hours passed until finally the muffled voices in the room beyond became louder. They were coming to get her.
Fear slammed into her chest making her struggle to breathe. Tears prickled at her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Yes these bastards abused her, hurt her. Raped her. She was absolutely terrified of them.
But she had a plan this time. She knew what she had to do.
“Wake up, little wolf,” the tomb hissed from the other side of the door.
Alison physically recoiled at the sound of his voice, panic surging to the surface. She violently shoved it away. Now was not the time.
There was a loud clink that seemed to shake the walls of her cell; she’d come to know that sound as the lock being opened.
She held her breath, her whole body trembling in fear of what was to come.
“Little wolf…” the bastard breathed as he slid his body through the door. Alison sat, motionless, fear freezing her in place as he sauntered across the room. Light flooded through the open doorway, making her squint against the brightness.
As he neared Alison, the stench of death and rot hit her nose. She absently brought her hand to her throat, her cold bones shaking uncontrollably.
As her fingers brushed her long hair, the image of that bit of wire shot into her mind, bringing with it fresh determination. Adrenaline surged but she pushed it away. Though welcome, she needed to make them believe she was as terrified and weak as ever.
“Please, leave me alone!” she squeaked, scuttling back on the mattress, out of his reach.
“That’s not a nice thing to say to your lover is it?” he spat, so close to her now that little bits of spittle hit her face. His breath stank of whisky, and his movements were sluggish. He no doubt had been drinking all day.
As his cold hands came in search of her, she couldn’t help but swallow the scream that rose. Those hands had hurt and abused her so often it had almost wiped away any memory of a life without fear. Almost.
His touch was like ice as he gripped her, his sausage-like fingers wrapping around her fragile, bony arms as he violently pulled her forward.
Alison jerked away from his touch, scrambling further backwards on the mattress as far as she could get from him, and a squeak of terror escaped her lips.
“Don’t be a bitch,” he growled at her, leaning forward on wobbly legs and wrapping his hands around her hair. He put all his strength into ripping her forward, dragging her by her long hair. Tears stung her eyes as she lost her balance and fell forward. The tomb didn’t stop, he just continued dragging her, as she scrambled, bare-footed on the concrete floor, trying to get up.
She obviously was moving too slowly for him because he bent down and gripped her throat hard enough to bruise.
Hefting her to her feet, he spun her around and marched her out of the cell by her neck.
Alison was openly trembling, fear reverberating through her every fibre as he forced her out of her cell, past the door held open by the second tomb. Now she was out she could try and execute her plan of escape.
She knew they were too difficult to fight when they were together, Maker only knew she’d tried. No, she needed to take them out one by one.
And there was only one time when they weren’t together. Bile rose at the thought but it was the only time she had a chance in hell of taking them down.
Alison could feel the fragile skin of her neck bruising underneath his heavy touch; not that it really mattered, her body was littered with cuts and bruises anyway but that was nothing compared to the fact that she was, in truth, a tuhrned herself.
The former High Lord had kidnapped her, and technically almost killed her in the process of binding her soul. Her body was destined to rot and die though her soul lived on.
Knowing she was technically a tomb as well didn’t make these two brutes any less…disgusting. Her body was still relatively unmarred by the rotting hands of time, she’d only been in this state for little more than a few months, whereas these two were clearly long-lived tombs, she would hazard a guess that they had been tuhrned decades ago.
The tomb’s thinning brown hair hung loose from the top of his almost completely bald head, his skin so pale it seemed to glow an eerie blue. His companion was no less disgusting, though his hair had fared much better, the black waves hanging limply in long strands. They both looked like their bodies had given up on life. Though they were broad and muscular, they both had an almost bloated look to them, their bodies fighting the decay trying to overtake them.
Their skin was as cold as hers, though they didn’t seem to notice the temperature as much as she did. She suspected this had something to do with the fact that their nerves were so far into the rotting stages that they didn’t feel much any more which would probably explain why they were so vicious when they were ‘with’ her.
The hallway they were leading her down was as grim as her cell, the brick walls damp and slimy, the floor stained with mould and grime. The one thing they did have that she didn’t was light, bare bulbs on spindly-looking cables hung periodically from the ceiling, running the length of the small section of the building. They were dim and flickered but any light was better than none. There wasn’t far to go, as far as she could gather there really wasn’t much here. Behind her was a hatch that led downwards, further into the bowels of the building. Fear rose anew as she thought of that hatch, of the room, hidden beneath it. The High Lord had tortured her there so often, even the thought of that place made her skin crawl. Alison desperately tried to focus on what was to come, rather than what had been. Opposite her cell was another room that the two tombs spent all their time in. At the end of the hallway was a small bathroom and a door that led to places unknown. That door was her goal, it was her way out.
She was sure of it.
The tomb thrust her forward, making her graze her foot against the concrete beneath. Tears stung her eyes though she pressed onwards, allowing the brute to lead her through another doorway into the bathroom. He shoved her inside, by the back of her neck, making her stumble as he barked orders at the second tomb.
Alison slipped into the shower, leaning against the cool tiles, telling the fear riding her gut to calm down.
Slowly, she slid her fingers into her hair and pulled one of the two wires out of the plait, wrapping it around her knuckles lightly, and leaving the two sharp ends of the wire poking up from between her fingers. She then began tugging the second wire downwards, only an inch, just enough that it was poking out of the edge of her braid.
The tomb slammed the door so hard she heard the wood crack and splinter. He spun on his heel and stalked towards Alison. His breathing was heavy with lust, his eyes focused on her. His movements were laboured, unpredictable.
He didn’t bother talking to her, he just lunged. In a heartbeat he was on her, his huge cold fist wrapped tightly around her throat as he slammed her against the tiled wall of the shower. Panic surged, sending adrenaline rushing through her veins as she thrashed against him, fought to breathe, fought to gain control.
He pressed his palm harder against her throat, making her see stars, choking against him. Not that he seemed to notice, his attention was on her chest. Fumbling with his left hand, he tried to tear what was left of the thin material of her T-shirt away.
It was too difficult to do with his other hand wrapped around her neck so he quickly changed track, dropping her to the floor and spinning her around so quickly it made her stomach churn. The bastard kicked her legs from beneath her with a heavy-booted foot, forcing her to land on her knees, the movement jarring her back and bruising her shins. He shoved her forward so brutally she smashed her face into the tiled wall. Her nose shattered, sending blood cascading down from the wound, dripping onto the floor.
The tomb roared as the scent of blood hit him; he made quick work of shredding the flimsy cloth that covered her, and then bared his fangs. Hissing. Alison cursed the High Lord to hell. He was a vampire-born Magi and his ‘gift’ to his minions was ‘turning’ them into vampires, ‘gifting’ them eternal life as a reward for their service.
Alison didn’t have time to breathe, let alone move, as he lunged for her, sinking his thick fangs brutally into her shoulder. The sharp teeth punctured her skin with ease, sinking through what little flesh she had left and hitting bone. She thrashed against him, trying to dislodge him but to no avail. He pulled her back against him, crushing her throat with his hand. She could feel his erection pressed against her. Fear turned this bastard on.
“I’m going to fuck you while I drink you,” he spat, her blood dripping from his mouth. He reached forward and ripped apart the top of her jeans, sending the button flying. He wasn’t gentle; his nails tore her skin making her bleed. Tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry, but she hastily blinked them away. She needed to be able to see if she was going to get this right.
The bastard grabbed her by the shoulders, hefting her up onto her feet as he stood, violently shoving her jeans down. She knew what he was going to do. She had been with this bastard many times; he forced himself on her daily. He liked to see the fear in her eyes as he took her, liked to watch her scream. And that was going to be what would kill him.
Adrenaline surged through her anew as he moved her, forcing her to step out of her jeans.
Now was the time.
“I’m going to take you until I break you in half, wolf. Then I’m going to bleed you dry,” he hissed. His breath smelled like death and whisky, whispering past her shoulder as he spoke. Alison didn’t say anything. Just waited.
He was going to turn her around in a minute, and she needed the strength of him spinning her to hit him hard enough to knock him out. She didn’t have the upper body strength on her own. She’d been starved for weeks and her strength was at an all-time low.
He pressed himself against Alison’s back, his vile body cold against her skin. The tomb ran a heavy hand down her chest, brushing against her breasts, then further down. It was all she could do not to throw up.
Finally impatience got the better of him; he threw all his weight into spinning her around to face him. Alison tensed her arm, her fist with the wire wrapped around it poised and ready. She used the force he put into spinning her to fuel her own strength, and as their eyes met, she slammed her fist as hard as she could into his throat. The points of the wire sinking deeply into his flesh, he didn’t have time to scream as she ripped her fist sideways with all the strength she could muster, tearing flesh as she went. His severed jugular spurted a wall of blood, covering her. She choked and gagged, jumping out of the way as he fell forward, his features now forever frozen in a state of surprise.
Tears fell freely as Alison made quick work of wrapping the second piece of wire around his neck and pulling it towards her, the wire cut into her hands, leaving deep lacerations in its wake, but it was worth it. The wire cut swiftly through his flesh, though she had to stamp on the bone to break it.
You had to completely sever the head to stop the Circle taking over the body, forcing it to live on even in death.
When finally it was done, she collapsed against the tiled wall of the shower, exhausted. She was shaking so badly she could barely keep her teeth from chattering. She’d actually done it. Relief washed through her.
Though it was too soon to celebrate; she still had the second brute to deal with and Maker knows how many more on the other side of that door, but the first hurdle was over. That sick bastard, the tomb who had violated and beaten her in more ways than she wanted to remember, was finally dead.
Those hands couldn’t hurt anyone any more.
Taking a deep breath, Alison pulled herself together; it wouldn’t take long for the second brute to come in for his turn. The scent of blood hung thickly in the air, and a ‘turned’ vampire had no morals or control. The High Lord was a Magi, a magical being who was also born vampire. This is why he was so powerful, because he had the ability to create an army of un-dead. Alison frowned. He gave vampires a bad name. Maker, the actual vampire community were strictly born only. They never ‘made’ vamps unless the circumstances were extreme. And though they were a dangerous, deadly bunch, they would never do what that bastard, the High Lord, had done.
Shaking herself, Alison turned on the shower, using the scalding hot but blessedly clean water to wash her face and hands. She pulled her jeans back on and tied the ragged bits of material that made up her T-shirt around her chest. It didn’t look good but at least it covered her. Mostly.
Leaving the water running, she quickly patted the dead tomb down; he had nothing on him but his knives. Not even a damn mobile phone.
She took the knives and left him where he’d landed. Sure, she could take his jacket, it would give her some much needed warmth; but she couldn’t stand the idea of anything of him touching her, not even a jacket. His scent would be all over it and even that seemed like hell to her.
Carefully, Alison stepped behind the door to the bathroom, bracing herself against the wall. Waiting for brute number two to make his entrance. It didn’t take long. These sick bastards were definitely without patience.
“Come on!” the black-haired tomb thundered from the other side of the door. “You’ve been in there forever. It’s my goddamn turn now.” She heard his hand land on the door handle.
“I’m damn well coming in. You better have washed her. I don’t want your stink all over her when it’s my turn.” His voice reverberated through the room as the door began to open…
“OI!” he shouted, opening the door fully, “I said…”
His sentence got cut short as he stepped into the bathroom, the door swinging closed behind him. “What the –”
Alison didn’t wait for him to finish, just leapt at him from behind, sending the tip of his companion’s knife straight into the back of his neck. The guy didn’t stand a chance; he fell forward, his body hitting the floor with a heavy crack. She’d killed him instantly, the second the knife had hit his spine. She repeated the process of cutting through his neck so his head was completely severed before scrambling back against the wall, choking down air as she did.
Adrenaline was still pulsing through her even as tears fell. She broke down sobbing in fear and terror. She was so stupidly lucky he hadn’t turned around. She hadn’t had the strength to fight him; she’d used up the very last of it lunging at him. Her body felt so weak she doubted she’d be able to stand.
And now she was a killer. She’d never taken a life before. And now she looked down on the two men that had taken their last breath because of her, she felt sick. Life was precious, something not to be wasted. And she’d taken it away from them.
The worst part of it was that she didn’t feel anything. There was no guilt, no regret, just nothing. These tombs had deserved to die, they had made her life a living hell and she had no doubt there were many females prior to her who had suffered the same abuse she had and perhaps had not come away from it alive.
Back in his ‘den’ as the others liked to call it, Dax was frantically performing search after search. The Internet was a wonderful thing these days; it gave unlimited access to the world’s secrets if you knew where to look. The sun was out and shining brightly, he’d been at this all night. It had been about five in the morning when he’d finally got home and the Djinn had gone straight to bed. He revelled in the warmth of the sun’s rays shining through his glass house. Though the entire building was built with bullet-proof reflective glass, some of the rays still seeped through and lit the entire house up. He was sat in his large leather chair at his desk, staring at his huge computer screen – which was, in truth, a floor-to-ceiling glass panel that had a graphics board hardwired into the glass, so not only could he see through it and watch the land behind but he could also bring images up on it. Not even the government had technology this advanced. Perks of being part of the council’s structure.
There was a loud digital ping as his phone went off next to him. He grabbed it, and hit ‘answer’ as he shoved it against his face.
“Speak,” he barked into the receiver.
“Dax, its Tam.” Her husky tones filled his ears.
“What have you got?”
“OK, I’ve been out to the beach where Alison was taken. You’re right, there was a boat that had been pulled ashore several weeks ago. There is still an imprint in the sand from the bottom of it, though it’s been so battered by the sea we can’t tell much from it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he snapped, probably a little more harshly than he should have. It wasn’t her fault Alison had been taken. And to Tamriel’s credit, she was up and working on the case at five in the morning, as soon as Dax had texted her. She was one of the hardest working, most driven females he’d ever come across.
“Cool it, Dax, don’t be an arsehole,” she snapped back at him. He heard her shush Leyth who was growling in the background. Mated males could be ridiculously protective and Leyth was no exception.
“Sorry. I’m just –”
“Yeah yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” she snorted, cutting him off. “Anyway,” she continued, “after I’d been down to the beach I got on the net and I’ve been rooting through the Navy’s database.”
“Ah, you really think the Navy is going to be involved?”
“Hell no, but they do sell off equipment that has been discontinued.”
“And?”
“And about six months ago they sold an ex-miniature submarine to an unknown bidder. They are nicknamed ‘midget submarines’ because they weigh less than 150 tonnes, can be manned by as little as two people and have no on-board accommodation.”
“So we think the Circle bought it?”
“Well, we’ve been looking into local harbour auctions too. They have sold over twenty boats in the last six months to an ‘unknown’ bidder too.”
“How do we know they are related?”
“Here is where it gets interesting. The submarine and the boats were all sold to an unknown bidder but they’re never untraceable, there are always accounts that the payments need to come from.”
“Not if they do it in cash.” She made a strange ‘ahh’ noise, making her sound like a teacher whose student had just got the right answer.
“True, however large payments like that don’t go unnoticed in bank accounts, the exact cash sum of each purchase was drawn out of the same bank account on the same day the purchase was made. From a bank not ten minutes away from the auction, the payment came from the account of one…” There was a shuffling noise as she shifted through what sounded like a load of paperwork; she’d obviously been researching this for hours.
“Jason Smith. Who is a high-flying investor for the fishing trade.”
“And he’s linked to the Circle how?”
“He’s not. But we went to question him an hour ago at his home in Whitstable. We’ve only just got back.”
“And…?”
“And we found him dead in his living room.”
“Crap. So no leads.”
“Dax, he’s been dead for a long while, we reckon about five months. He was well into the rotting stages when we got there, and there are no fingerprints at the scene but get this: the last thing he actually purchased and signed for himself was a disused oilrig off the coast of England but we haven’t found where exactly yet. It has been redundant for decades, apparently it was built on unreliable intelligence and when they found nothing, it was just left to rust. It’s little more than a pile of scrap that goes unnoticed these days. So why would he buy it?”
“Because someone forced him to.”
“That’s what we think. He is co-owner with a partner that is using a false name on the deeds, there’s a paper trail so vast that it’s nigh on impossible to trace it back to whoever it is. But we also know that this ‘partner’ is the co-owner of every single one of those boats and that submarine.”
“It’s got to be worth chasing up.”
“Definitely. There are some old dockyards in Chatham that Leyth and I are planning on investigating. That’s where the submarine was auctioned off. It might give us some useful leads, and if not we can see if anyone went with Mr Smith on the security camera footage. You want to come?”
“Count me in, I’ll get my stuff together, leave in ten?”
“Sure thing, we’re just going to go and brief Julian.”
Finally they had a lead that might work. Tamriel made a good private investigator; she and Carl had the right idea with their new firm. Dax was well educated and a frigging genius with technology and hacking but he would never have thought of a submarine, even now the idea seemed ridiculous. But hell, the Circle were everywhere, it made sense that they would take to the seas as well.
Dax hastily typed the name ‘Jason Smith’ into his computer’s search programme and then ran a separate search for redundant oilrigs on the coast of England and left his computer running. It would ping the results to his phone if it found anything anyway. Shoving his thick bomber jacket on and checking his knives and Glock were present, he stalked out of his house, clicking the alarm sensors on as he walked back to the mansion.
Tamriel and Leyth were already out front loading up Leyth’s beat-up old Range Rover and Julian was outside with them barking orders into his phone.
“I don’t give a crap how much it costs, Saph,” he was shouting as Dax came within hearing range, “we’re gonna need a boat, charge it to your pack credit card!”
He paused for a minute, presumably listening to her talking before adding, “Fine, just make sure it’s a subtle boat, nothing ‘spanky’, and make sure it’s fast. But big enough for all of us to get on.”
He spun on his heel and marched around the side of the car, hefting his huge muscular body into the passenger seat, muttering something about Sapphire wanting to buy a ‘damned pink boat’ and slammed the door.
“Dax!” Tam shouted as he approached them. “You ready?”
“Yup,” he grunted, sliding himself into the back seat of the car.
“Cool, let’s get moving,” Leyth growled, starting the engine as he slammed his door.
“We’ve got a meeting with the auctioneer first,” Tam explained, sliding into the back seat next to him. “They have given us permission to do a thorough search of the dockyard but we have to be subtle because it’s open to the public today.”
She bent down to pull something from one of the bags she had at her feet, shoving a plastic container onto his lap.
“Eat.”
“Not hungry,” he grumbled.
“Don’t care. Eat.” She grinned at him. Damn that female could be a pain in the arse, but he did as she asked anyway. It was just easier not to argue. Cracking the lid on the Tupperware container he found four thick beef sandwiches sat there neatly stacked up; protein and lots of it. He bit them down quickly, barely tasting the meat as it hit his tongue. His stomach reluctantly accepted the sustenance.
It took about an hour in total to get them down to Chatham’s Historic Dockyard. The drive was tedious. Dax found himself drifting in and out of sleep; a belly full of beef would do that to a wolf. Maybe Julian was right. He really should get some proper sleep soon.
As Leyth pulled the car up to the main entrance to the dockyard, Tamriel leaned out of her window and explained who she was, showing them her new private investigator’s licence and ID card. The guards let them straight through and directed them to the car park, explaining how to find the main office.
“Dax, you and Leyth go take a look around, see if you can find anything while Tamriel and I go talk to this auctioneer and look at the CCTV footage, cool?”
Everyone nodded in agreement as Leyth pulled the car into a parking bay. He helped his female out of the car, and landed one hell of a kiss on her lips, leaving her a little flushed as she walked away with Julian.
“Come on, man, where do you want to start?” Leyth nodded at Dax.
“Not sure, let’s find an area map.”
It didn’t take long for them to find one of those huge boards with the ‘you are HERE’ arrows on it. The dockyard they were in was huge. There was a museum and a large boat you could walk around. There were also rope-making warehouses and some privately owned warehouses too, as well as a small café and several car parks.
“OK, they hold the auctions in the museum most of the time. It would make sense to hold this one there too as they were selling off boats, the museum is near the water.” Dax glanced that way; it was indeed close to the water, yet not close enough. There was a replica of the ‘midget submarine’ on display, and little else.
“I need to look at their private rentals information, we need to know who else is renting space here.” Dax started walking towards the café.
“They’re not going to let you see those documents, that’s private for a reason!”
“They don’t need to let me.”
Leyth snorted as he waked over to the counter to order some coffee as Dax plonked his arse into one of the spindly plastic chairs. Damn thing felt like it was going to bend and break under his weight.
Tugging his laptop out of his bag, he set it on the table in front of him and turned it on. It scanned his fingerprint on the mouse pad and allowed him access. A message popped up notifying him that the search he’d started at home was still in progress. No surprise there!
Hitting the Wi-Fi on he scanned the area, quickly finding the dockyards network. It was of course password protected but hell, like that mattered. He clicked the little cursor onto his encryption software icon and set it into motion. The software in question was something he’d designed years ago; it was pretty basic, but that’s all it needed to be. It ran through the millions of number and letter password sequences in a matter of seconds, leaving no digital ‘fingerprint’ in its wake. As it briefly touched the network, it deleted all trace of itself as soon as it had made it. As the word ‘accepted’ finally flashed up on the screen, the programme made a note of the password and stored it in the depths of its hard drive for later use if ever needed. Now he was logged on to the network, he opened up another of his own software programmes; he’d called it ‘The Eraser’ because that’s exactly what it was.
As Dax quickly stalked his way through the dockyards database, ‘The Eraser’ deleted any record of his IP address, any evidence that someone had accessed the network or anything in it. Simple.
It took only minutes before he was rifling through the documents stored on the computers in the ‘property’ department. Finally he found a list of tenants, their names, contact details and a company description. Dax of course made a copy of the information, storing it on his computer and pinging it across to his home desktop as well.
There were several different companies. Mainly they had something to do with fishing or boats. There was quite a large events company that had rented two of the larger warehouse spaces and an office, though they checked out after his thorough background search.
“Anything?” Leyth grunted, pulling him out of his little technology bubble.
“Nah, everything checks out.”
“What now then?”
“Well, I guess we should take a look around.”
In minutes the two of them were up and walking away from the little café towards one of the warehouses. The large wooden and brick structure towered over them as they came to it. The two huge wooden doors looked big enough to cater to a giant. The interior of the warehouse was beautiful, heavy wooden floors and large windows. The air was tinted with the distinct scent of metalwork and rubber, which made sense, it was absolutely brimming with the latest in technology.
Dax let out an impressed whistle as he stalked through the doors into the warehouse.
“’Allo? Can I help you?” A beasty-looking bloke sauntered over; he was huge, easily matching Dax and Leyth for size, though he was most definitely human.
“We’re with Chambers private investigators and we’re doing a check on the dockyard, have you noticed anything unusual lately?”
“Unusual how?” A slightly smaller brunette man swaggered over to his huge companion.
“We’re looking into the sale of some boats at the auction a few weeks ago.”
“You mean that submarine that got sold?”
“Yeah, what can you tell us about it?”
“Well, it got sold didn’t it?” The big man looked down at his friend, then yelled over his shoulder, “OI, BOYS, anyone know anything about that submarine that got sold the other week?”
There was a collection of ‘nah’s’ in return.
“Sorry mate, can’t help you. We’re pretty busy preparing for our next job anyway so we’re gonna crack on if it’s all the same to you.”
“No worries.” Leyth nodded at him, turning to leave.
“Wait –” Another man with long wavy blond hair stepped from behind one of the huge shelves dominating the room. “It wasn’t docked here, they sold it but it was shipped out from somewhere else – Will?!”
‘Will’, the man in question, stepped out from behind the large rack of shelving. He was smaller than the blond with messy hair and baggy trousers.
“What?”
“Where did that submarine get shipped from?”
“Uh, there’s a little dock in town, it’s tiny, big enough for maybe one car to tow one boat. Probably there.” He grunted, nodding at Leyth. “Mate, you are huge.”
“Thanks.” Leyth nodded back. “And thanks for your help, boys.”
As the two of them left, the beasty man stalked back to the kettle and continued with the tea he was making. Dax could have sworn he was singing Whitney Houston as he did so. What a sight that made.
Dax made quick work of texting Tam to let her know what was doing, and she hit him back instantly, letting them know they were reviewing CCTV footage, and to ping her the address when they found it.
With that they went on a small harbour hunt. Google maps showed only one likely option; it was quite literally a gap between buildings that led to the river running through Chatham. It was tiny on the map yet when they arrived at the spot there was nothing but shops and houses.
“Are you sure this is it?”
“Yup. Our GPS dot is literally on top of it.”
“Well, crap. Looks like it lied,” Leyth snorted, eyeing the building in front of them. It was fairly nondescript, brick walls and a wooden door. The windows had heavy curtains behind them and that was it. The walls were covered in the soot and grime of age and they looked as though they had stood there for decades.
Dax swore in frustration leaning against the building, cursing again as his shoulder came away covered in black.
The wall had smudged where his shoulder had been, the dirt coming away easily. The brick underneath was bright red.
“Now why would a building be covered in oil?” Leyth said, running a finger across the cement holding the bricks in place. That too was clean as a whistle once the oil came off.
“To give the impression of age?” Dax grinned, eyeing the door.
“Why would anyone want a house to look old and grimy?”
“Only if they didn’t want anyone to notice it.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Leyth glanced over at Dax, who eyed the street they were on. There were no CCTV cameras, it was a fairly old street, and most of the buildings looked deserted, the shops empty.
“Do it,” Dax barked. Leyth didn’t wait a heartbeat and in one swift movement sent a heavy kick at the wooden door, smashing the lock and sending the thing splintering open.
Only then did all hell break loose.

Chapter Three (#ulink_0a8d6b2b-de21-52dc-b866-a243ed60e32a)
The two of them thundered through the door, slamming the rickety wood shut behind them. Leyth barked out a curse, falling into a defensive crouch and sliding his nine-millimetre pistol out. Dax hit the floor, blood welling steadily from a gunshot wound on his shoulder.
Whoever was here had been waiting for them, silencer and all. They hadn’t even heard the shot, it was only when something small and hard hit him in the shoulder that he knew something was off. Way off.
“Fuck,” Dax screamed, snapping his Glock free and training it on the interior of the room, all from his position on the floor.
It was one hell of a building. There were no rooms or floors, just the shell of a house, cement floor and brick walls. It was completely empty but for an enormous boat dominating the middle of the room. Dax’s eyes slowly began to adjust to the gloom of the building. Picking out a small table and chairs on which stood bottles of beer and what looked like a half played game of poker. At the end of the room stood two huge wooden doors, big enough to fit a boat through no doubt, and he would put money on the fact that those doors led out to the water. There was no one else in sight, but there had to be someone here. That damn bullet hadn’t come from nowhere. Unless they had run out through those massive doors, they had to be on the boat. There was nowhere else to hide.
The thing itself was absolutely huge, and had been painted black, recently if the stench of paint was anything to go by. It was stood on top of a large metal trailer, with a large cabin and a rail running the entire way around the deck. There were two ladders stood next to the boat on both sides, and no doubt a set of steps at the back.
Dax glanced briefly at Leyth, who signalled them forward. They kept to the underside of the boat, the girth of the thing allowing them shelter from the shooter above. When they came to the ladders, Dax ran out so his back was against the brick wall, pointing the muzzle of his Glock up at the cabin. He awkwardly waved a hand at Leyth, letting him know it was clear for the moment. Gritting his teeth and biting back a curse, he held his injured arm tightly against him. It would heal in no time, but damn that shit hurt!
Being the injured party, he was better shooting from the ground rather than being caught on a ladder, so he was smart enough not to argue the point as Leyth quickly climbed the metal steps. Dax held his breath, waiting for any sign of the enemy. Utter silence. Unnatural silence.
Leyth scanned the top of the boat with the muzzle of his gun. When nothing happened, he carefully stepped onto the surface of the boat, the thing rocking slightly and creaking with the motion. It took several seconds for him to check the deck and cabin. And another few painstakingly quiet seconds for him to check the belly of the boat. When he reappeared, he walked casually over to the side and leaned down.
“Nothing,” he barked, lowering his gun. “The boat’s empty, and I can see the entire room from up here.”
“Well, crap.”
“You don’t think they went out of those –” The rest of the sentence was cut off as something huge and black fell from the ceiling all but covering Leyth. Dax barked out a curse as another huge black beast dropped on top of him at the same time. Hand-shaped talons scraped at his wounded shoulder as a beak the size of his thigh snapped dangerously close to his jugular.
Dropping his gun as he fell to the floor, Dax swore. Rolling out of the way as those huge talons grabbed at him again.
“What the HELL?!” He bit out as the black thing flew off, circling the roof of the building and aiming itself at him once again. Should have checked the damn ceiling! he thought, reaching for the knives strapped to his chest.
He knew he wouldn’t have time to get to his Glock; the weapon had clattered well out of reach. The huge black bird screeched, the noise all but bursting his eardrums as it flew at him. It was an ugly bastard, human shaped from head to foot, with black-feathered bits of flapping skin that might pass for wings stretched from the man-bird’s arms down to its legs. Those ugly wings seemed to flap awkwardly, unnaturally. The crow’s deformed face still looked human but had a large beak in place of its mouth and sharp claw on its still human looking hands and feet.
Dax rolled onto his back, not daring to stand. He needed to be a small target not a tall one. The crow flew directly at him, picking up speed. As it came within range, Dax could smell death and rot. Definitely a tomb, and yup, there they were, huge completely black eyes. Bastards.
Shifters that had joined the Circle and become tombs could only shift-shape if the Magi running the band of rebels willed it. And the fact that the tomb’s eyes were black meant that the Magi was still possessing the tomb’s body. The soulless black pits acted as mirrors, so they could see what was happening through the tomb’s eyes from whatever corner of the Earth they were hiding in.
The bird hit him with great force, raking its claw-like feet over his body. Thankfully his Kevlar-reinforced combats took most of the bite out of it. But it didn’t stop those deadly talons ripping their way through some of the material and sinking deeply into his flesh. He hissed as warm blood ran across his leg.
The thing flapped its awkward, huge wings, making the air around him swirl, dust stirring and filling his eyes, making him cough and his eyes water. It flew up to the rafters of the building, circling once again and aiming directly at him.
This time though, Dax was ready for it. As the ugly son-of-a-bitch flew at him again, talons poised and ready, Dax held his breath, adrenaline surging as those wings roared towards him, the air stirring, whipping across his face.
He held his ground, waiting…
Finally it was on him, those ugly feet scraping across his shins as that huge beak snapped at his face, aiming directly for his throat. Dax didn’t hesitate, he thrust his knife upwards, the blade catching the skin of the tomb’s wing and piercing its way straight through the thin flesh. He ripped his arm sideways, taking the sharp blade of the knife with him, creating a sizable tear in the wing of the beast.
It let out an almighty scream that sounded a bit like a strangled cat.
Ironic seeing as technically they were wolves fighting birds.
As it tried to turn in mid-air, the injured wing gave out making him spiral heavily towards the floor. Dax jumped up, launching himself at the damn bird as it hit the floor in a heap. That sharp beak snapped at him, lacerating his arm as he struggled to shove it out of the way. Finally he got a good grip on the base of its chin and shoved its head backwards, plunging the knife deeply into the bastard’s throat and ripping it sideways, decapitating the deformed crow shifter. As its body fell limply to the floor, Dax swiped at the sweat and blood on his forehead.
“Nice.” Leyth grinned from the edge of the boat, his own bird-tomb hanging from the ladder, its neck snapped at an awkward angle, wings tangled in the steps.
“What the hell?!” Dax spat, eyeing the two ugly beasts.
“Tombs.” Leyth nodded, looking equally disgusted. They were obviously crow shifters, gone Circle-wrong.
Now as far as they could tell, the only time they could shift and change into their crow counterparts was when the Circle’s Magi directed the change.
The problem being that the Magi weren’t shifters, they didn’t know how to properly direct the body into its alternate form so when they called to the soul of the animal, they only partially shifted, turning them into this ugly-looking half-human, half-animal beast. And they truly were ugly.
“Holy shit.” Tamriel gaped as she arrived on the scene a few minutes later and took in the two huge half-shifted crows. “You really weren’t joking about the Circle’s shifters being gross.”
“Yeah, why on earth they think it’s a good idea to join the Circle I’ll never know.” Julian wrinkled his nose. “Leyth – Sapphire and the team are on the way, I suggest you two get to Doc ASAP.”
“I agree,” Tamriel snorted eyeing Leyth’s various talon-wounds and idly dabbing at one with the sleeve of her shirt.
“Female, I’m fine,” Leyth snapped, looking down at her. His hard features instantly softened as he met her gaze. Leaning in he landed a kiss on her lips.
“Well, you won’t want a sponge bath when you get home then will you?” she grinned.
“Erm.– I mean…oh Tam, I’m so sore – I’m poorly – You need to help me.” He quickly backtracked as she wrapped her arms around his thick neck.
Maker, those two were sickening.
“Put it back in your trousers, Leyth,” Julian growled. “What have we found?”
“Nothing,” Dax grumbled, eyeing the room they were in. He and Leyth had scoured the place from top to bottom and found nothing but a few firearms, a knife set and a mobile phone that had nothing on it bar a call history from a blocked number. Oh yeah, and one hell of a boat. You’d think they might leave at least one bit of information here though; it was thoroughly irritating that they had hit a dead end. No leads. And to top it all off when that arsehole had shot him, Dax had fallen on his back, crushing his laptop and his phone that were both stored in his backpack. Both were broken and useless. Which meant any information his search at home brought up would be sitting there waiting for him and he wouldn’t be able to access it. And in the unlikely event that Alison did manage to surface and get signal for her GPS chip, none of them would know about it.
“Right,” Julian boomed. “Who knows how to drive a boat?”
Alison sat heaving air into her lungs. Her muscles were shaking so uncontrollably she could barely swipe the hair sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead away. She was a killer. She had killed two men today.
The thought made her sick, but more than that, the effort of doing so had left her incredibly weak. She hadn’t eaten properly in almost a month, and the energy it took to take those two tuhrned out had all but killed her. She’d managed to prop herself up against the wall in the damp dark hallway outside the bathroom. Looking at those two wasn’t an option. She was so cold she could barely feel her fingers and so weak she couldn’t for the life of her stand up. Maker only knew she’d tried.
Rocking herself forward so she was on her hands and knees, she crawled slowly over to the door, the one door she had been aiming to get to for the last few weeks. The door she was sure led out of this godforsaken place. Now she’d finally managed to get to it, she was so damn frail she could barely turn the handle. Staying on the ground on her knees, she reached up and struggled to turn the handle sideways. Thankfully it was unlocked; obviously the brutes had little faith that she would get this far.
The wooden thing swung slowly forward, revealing a small stairwell. Alison held her breath, listening intently. She may not be able to change into her wolf form but her senses were still second to none, she would be able to hear if there was anyone in the immediate vicinity.
Thankfully the stairwell beyond was blessedly silent, and scent-free bar the stench of the two brutes that had guarded her. Pulling herself forward, still on her hands and knees, she all but dragged herself up the broad metal steps leading to places unknown. The entire stairwell was brick, heavy thick brick. She could tell she was somewhere well underground because of the sheer thickness of the walls and the staleness of the air.
Finally, after what felt like decades, Alison reached the top step and collapsed onto the metal flooring above, heaving deep breaths and shaking so much it was an effort to keep herself still and not fall back down the stupidly long set of stairs she’d just climbed. Hell, at least she was warmer. The effort it took to haul herself up here had her sweating and her muscles screaming in protest.
She forced herself to still, took a deep breath and held it there, listening again. Other than the laboured thumping of her heart there was nothing to be heard.
It was deathly silent.
Pulling her strength together, Alison looked around. The top of the stairs looked very much like the bottom, just a small stairwell, though the floor and walls up here were made of steel, the metal so rusted it splintered into her palms as she dragged herself forward. The heavy metal door leading out of the stairwell was unlocked like the previous door and as she opened it, every sense tingling with awareness, every nerve on edge. The fear riding her made it difficult to breathe. She could barely hold in the gasp that escaped her lips…
The room beyond was vast and open. As soon as the heavy door swung open the sound of water, waves lapping against metal, hit her ears, deafening her. The circular room had very little in it: huge steel pillars held up what looked like a balcony, the metal flooring giving way to a giant pool of water, on which the tip of what looked like a tiny submarine floated.
Maker, Mother of the Earth – Where in the world was she?
The place was completely deserted. The room held very little bar the weird floating submarine. The water was salty, and filled the air with the distinct scent of seawater. The waves lapping against the surrounding steel were nothing in comparison to the crashing waves she could hear outside.
There was a desk with a kettle on it and two cups, a sink and a small fridge and that was literally it. There were a set of metal steps leading up to the balcony and beyond that was the great outdoors. And oh Maker, the sunlight that flooded through the cracked glass windows was like water to the parched. She missed its warmth, had craved its light for oh so many weeks, and now it was blessedly shining down upon her she felt tears of joy sting her eyes. She was almost free! She was so close she could taste it.
Surely if she could see the sky, it meant she was far enough above ground for her GPS chip to get signal?
Snapping herself back to reality, Alison sternly told herself that she was not safe yet. She was sure that there would be more brutes in this godawful metal building somewhere and she hadn’t the strength to fight them.
Cursing at the rusted metal biting into her hands, she dragged herself to the fridge and cracked the thing open. There was little in there; milk that looked as though it had gone off weeks ago and some stale bread. She didn’t care though; she palmed the bread and bit into it. She felt as though she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. She wolfed the stuff down, pulling herself up on the sink and washing it down with some blessedly clean, cold water. She washed her face and paused, giving her stomach a moment to digest the small offering.
Though it was only a minimal amount of food, Alison could already feel her body strengthening. She would never feel as strong as she once had been. Her body was slowly decaying but she couldn’t help that. For now she was just glad of the strength some sustenance gave her and revelled in the feel of the sun on her skin. Even so she couldn’t help wistfully thinking about her life before the former High Lord.
The new High Lord was no better, that snivelling bastard might not be as creepy as the last but he was still a decaying Magi on a power trip.
Where the last High Lord was a true vampire, who had also been born Magi, the new one was a born Magi who had been turned vampire by the former High Lord. His body, needless to say, hadn’t weathered the change well.
And he was utterly disgusting. Alison couldn’t help internally cringing at the memory of her time with that male – if you could call him that.
She pushed the memories aside, telling them exactly where to ‘stick it’ as her brother would say. Alison carefully made her way over to the metal steps. At least she was on two feet now, though she couldn’t help staggering slightly as wave after wave of exhaustion hit her. She quietly made her way up the steps, her heart in her throat. Sheer terror washed through her at the thought of how many more tombs may be up there. She doubted she could take anyone on now and survive. Her limbs were trembling so badly she had to grip the handrail, hard, to keep herself steady. Her legs shook with every step and her stomach threatened to spill its meagre contents. Alison reached the top of the steps, her jaw dropping open as she scanned the area. She staggered over to the doorway, thrusting it open. There she fell to her knees, the mother of all screams ripping its way out of her throat.
It wasn’t more tombs she had to be worried about. It was this.
The open-air space she’d found herself in was absolutely empty, not a damn person in sight. Not a damn thing in sight. Not a damn bit of land in sight.
Maker save her! She was on a rusted metal oilrig in the middle of the sea.
Panic and despair washed over her as she realised how far out to sea she must be. Hell. The endless blue waves went for miles and miles, she was so far away from any land that she couldn’t even make out any country she might be near. Alison was well and truly in the middle of the ocean.
With tears streaming relentlessly down her cheeks, Alison sat on the edge of the metal framework. Any energy she might have had was well and truly gone, any hope of rescue she may have had squashed. She felt absolutely crushed. She was alone, cold and terrified in the middle of the goddamn ocean with no hope of salvation.
As Tamriel reached Dax’s glass-fronted fortress, she couldn’t help but gasp in awe. The mirrored glass reflected the forest around it perfectly, making it blend seamlessly into the trees. Unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t know it was there. That male was a genius but he was damn paranoid. Only a wolf with that much intelligence and that much paranoia would build a fortress that not only blended so well into its surroundings it was nigh on invisible but anyone inside could monitor every square inch of land surrounding the fortress through the glass.
Every panel of glass doubled up as a computer monitor.
She reached the part of the building that she knew as the door and placed her hand against the small square section she knew as the scanner.
It had taken her weeks to work out which bit of glass was which. It all looked the damn same. There was a brief moment in which the red scanner went to work on her palm, scanning each fingerprint, before there was a subtle click and the panel of glass that made up the door slid open, allowing her entry. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. The only reason it allowed her access was because Dax had overridden the initial security check from the mansion. No one was allowed in his personal space without explicit consent from the wolf himself.
Dax needed to see Doc; hell, he was beaten and bruised. The male had a damn gunshot wound in his shoulder and still it had taken all of them to force him into the medical clinic. He absolutely refused to be treated, he was furious when they had forced him to and had only calmed down when Tam had offered to go to his house and get one of his spare laptops and a phone so he could check his search engine and his GPS monitoring equipment. Bloody stubborn male. Though she knew he was right, they couldn’t waste time, and Maker only knew none of them wanted to be far from the equipment Dax had designed, in case Alison’s chip showed up.
Once Tam was inside, the first security hurdle over, the door slid shut. She was caged inside the bulletproof glass box that was the entrance to Dax’s house. She punched the four-digit code that he had given her into the metal keypad on the side, and then pressed her hand against another scanner. The code was another override, no one could get in or out of Dax’s fortress without him personally authorising it. Because he wasn’t here and didn’t have his phone, she had to bypass the system apparently.
The keyboard flashed again, signalling her to put in the next code. She hastily typed in the next set of digits, at which a small box popped open with a microphone in it. Tam sighed and rolled her eyes as she held her phone up to the speaker and pressed ‘play’.
“Override authorisation code.” The recording of Dax’s voice sounded out from the tiny speaker on her phone. “Willing recording. Code 0-1-5-3-2-6-7-9. Allow access.” There were a few seconds of silence while the little computer reviewed the complicated process Tam had just gone through, before the word ‘Accepted’ flashed up on the little monitor and the interior door slid open.
Tam huffed again, walking through the glass panel and letting it slide shut behind her. She felt more trapped in this damn fortress than she had on that boat. Wolves were not good at being in confined spaces and a boat seemed like hell to her. This ‘house’ felt more like a prison; she had absolutely no idea how Dax managed to live here.
Not wanting to spend any more time here than was necessary, she walked straight into the main room of the building which held all of Dax’s computer equipment. There was a loud frantic beeping coming from the speakers, which did little more than irritate Tam as she searched for his ‘box of spare laptops’.
Christ that beeping was loud enough to wake the dead.
As she searched the house, she found herself processing the information she’d learnt over the last day. How had none of them thought of the Circle using boats before? Seriously, the submarine was a little farfetched but hell; Alison had been taken from the beach. The damn beach! How had they not thought of boats? At least they now had their own boat. They had of course taken the big black beasty from the mini-dock in Chatham and had driven the thing all the way back to Folkestone, where they had paid to dock it in the harbour in town.
Who knew Dax had known how to drive a boat? That man seemed to know everything. And have stupid equipment that just wouldn’t stop beeping.
She stamped her foot in frustration, searching frantically for the source of the noise. It was only then that she noticed the huge map pictured on one of the glass-panelled walls of the room. There was a giant red dot flashing in the centre of the map over the vast ocean. Now what the hell would that mean? It was literally bang smack in the middle of the North Sea, between Denmark and England.
The circle may have purchased an oilrig off the coast of England, her inner voice pointed out. Crap. Crap. Crap. There’s only one reason that one of Dax’s GPS dots would be showing up in the middle of the sea.
Alison.
With urgency heating her veins, Tam all but launched herself at the desk, fumbling with the drawer, where the hell were his laptops?
She literally turned Dax’s house upside down in a matter of seconds, finally coming across a metal trunk in the bedroom. All but ripping it open, she found about six laptops, neatly stacked in their cases in a row. She grabbed the first one she saw and tore out of the fortress. She didn’t even bother setting the alarms; surely this was more important than that damn male’s security.
Running as fast as her feet would carry her she thundered up to Julian’s mansion’s entrance. Sticking her head in the camera section so it could scan her retinas she cursed the lot of them for their stupid security. It really slowed you down when you were in a rush.
Crashing through the door, she all out ran into the clinic, shouting her heart out for everyone to get there.
“DAX! JULIAN!” she screamed, launching herself into the medical room Dax and Julian were in.
“Good Mother of the Earth, WHAT??” her Alpha barked, as she fell through the door.
“Dax… Open…” she heaved, out of breath from her frantic sprint up here.
“Alison…” she choked out.
“What?” Dax snapped the laptop open and hit a few keys and that damn beeping sounded out once more.
“Thank you, Maker! We’ve got her, Julian. That dot there is Alison’s chip,” Dax roared, shooting off the gurney he was sat on.
“Hell yes. Let’s get moving!” Julian barked, launching himself to his feet and clapping Tam on the back hard enough to wind her.
“Ready when you are, boss.” Leyth grinned from the doorway. Tam spun on her heels and gasped. There in the doorway was every damn wolf and shifter that lived on the land, including the Djinn and Minotaurs.
“We all came running when we heard you screaming like a little pup,” Jake shrugged.
“Well, let’s get going then!” Julian boomed, storming out of the clinic.
“Yes. Let’s go get our female.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_0a8d6b2b-de21-52dc-b866-a243ed60e32a)
Dax held in a curse as he hefted himself onto the back of the giant black boat they’d confiscated from the Circle. The little dinghy they had rowed over in swayed violently as he pulled himself up from it, his shoulder screaming in agony with the motion. That damn bullet wound needed to hurry up and heal.
“You OK,man?” Leyth muttered from above him. The male obviously wanted to help him up but was smart enough not to offer.
“Yup,” Dax grunted, standing and subtly steadying himself using the railing that ran around the boat.
His gut did a little flip-flop as he stalked his way to the cabin. Thank Maker they’d actually done it – they’d found a signal on Alison’s chip. They were so close to finding her it was difficult not to do a little jump for joy. But not yet, they didn’t know what sort of state she was in – hell, if she was even alive. The chip would show up no matter the body’s state.
Telling his gut to cool it, he roared the boat’s engine to life and carefully guided it out of Folkestone’s harbour. It may be a giant black beast of a boat, but it was fast. The double engines did a fantastic job – and when they were finally out on the open blue sea, they picked up speed nicely.
“Raught,” Dax barked, glancing over his shoulder. The male in question sidled over, his silver hair gleaming furiously in the sunlight streaming through the cabin windows.
“What can I do for you, Dax?” The male’s throaty voice reverberated through the small room, bouncing off the walls.
“I need you to drive the boat while I look around for any tracking devices,” Dax mumbled. He hated asking the pack elder to do anything. That male was old, hundreds of years old in fact. He should be put on a throne, not asked favours. He cleared his throat. “If that’sOK.”
“Why, Dax, I think that’s the politest I’ve ever heard you!” The male’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as they met Dax’s own almost black irises. “I’d be happy to help, though I must admit, I have no knowledge of boat driving. It’s not something I’ve ever felt the need to learn.”
Dax quickly took the male through the motions of boat driving. It was pretty simple: steering wheel to turn the boat, lever goes forward to speed up, back to slow down. Follow the GPS dot on the computer screen, any problems holler at him. To his credit Raught was a damn natural at anything driving-related. Actually he was a natural at almost anything. Being alive for hundreds of years would do that to a wolf.
Several minutes later, the male was guiding the boat full of wolves and shifters towards Alison at full throttle, and Dax was hastily searching the boat for any monitoring technology the Circle may have added.
The cabin was pretty empty. The steering system was basic and there had been no other equipment in the room. To be sure, Dax had ripped apart the control area, and searched through it. Still nothing.
There would be something here however; he had no doubt of that. It would take about forty minutes to get to the part of the ocean where Alison’s chip was showing up, even travelling as fast as they were. Boats were a notoriously slow form of travel.
“Guys,” he barked, as he made his way out of the small wooden cabin onto the main deck of the ship.
Each and every wolf and shifter that worked under Julian’s pack rule gathered around him, ready to take orders.– though they all looked a little green. Being at sea or in the sky truly didn’t fit well with wolves. They were hunters of the woods. All four paws, or two feet, were born and bred to be on the ground, not in the sky or in water. It went against every natural instinct they had.
It really was a testament to the bond of a pack that they were all willingly standing on something that by natural law would terrify them, to bring one of their own back.
“What is it, Dax?” Julian snapped, obviously annoyed with the silence.
“Right. We need to make sure the ship isn’t being tracked. I need all of you to scour the boat, top to bottom looking for any sort of technology that looks out of place. Looks recently added. Anything you can find. If you do find something, come and get me. Cool?” There was a sries of pale-faced nod’s as all of them set to work, searching the boat.
Dax himself headed to the very bowels of the ship; if there was anything it would most likely be there. He ducked through the doorway at the back of the boat that led to the small holding area. There wasn’t much in here, just a little sofa and kitchenette. He quickly scanned the area, making sure he wasn’t missing anything. He ran his hands over the sofa, checking the storage area hidden beneath and the various cupboards in the small kitchen. He checked each and every power supply, to make sure they hadn’t been divided out to supply power to something else. Finally, when he was sure he wouldn’t find anything there, he searched the walls for the hidden doorway to the lower area of the boat. It was there; he just needed to find it. Every large boat had one; it was usually masked well, in case of attack. The crew, however small, could hide in the bowels of the ship if necessary. Plus it usually doubled up as a storage area for cargo that was too valuable to keep in the open.
He spent a good ten minutes running his hands across the walls, checking behind furniture for any creases in the wood that shouldn’t be there or any hidden handles or buttons, but to no avail.
Stamping his feet in frustration, he cursed long and hard.
“DAX?” Tamriel’s muffled voice reverberated through the room. He stuck his head out of the door to the holding area and listened.
“DAX?” Her voice somehow seemed quieter out here; it was definitely coming from inside.
“DAX!!” she shouted again.
“WHAT?” he barked back, frantically searching the room for the location of her voice. Damn female had found the entrance to the bottom of the boat before he had, he was sure of it. And Maker, did that do a number on his pride.
“MOVE THE STUPID RUG PLEASE!” she yelled. He glanced down at the floor, cursing himself for his lack of detective skills. Always check the friggin’ floor. Telling his male ego to go to hell, he bit back a curse and shoved the rug aside revealing a nicely polished wooden floor, in the middle of which was a square hatch. As he moved towards it, the hatch popped open and Tamriel’s long black and red hair and green eyes made an appearance.
“I’m sure you knew this was here anyway right?” She grinned at him.
“Yeah, I was getting to it,” Dax grumbled. He would have found it eventually. She was a private investigator now; it made sense that she would find hidden hatches with ease, right?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/hannah-pole/song-of-the-wolf-42421594/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.