Page 20 of Dhampira

In a blink, Vander stood over it, his sword at the ready. The wolf’s body twitched again. Then it jerked…and began to swiftly transform.

Morbid curiosity propelled me forward, my gaze glued to the werewolf.

The transformation sped up. Paws slid into human hands. Pointed animal ears slid down the beast’s head and shrunk into their human counterparts. Fur receded, tufts of gray giving way to blood-streaked skin. Seconds later, a nude man lay on the ground. Blood matted his dark hair and beard. Deep slash marks marred his neck, bits of purplish bone poking from the gouges. His eyes were closed, and an ominous-sounding rattle emerged from between his lips.

Vander’s expression was just as ominous as he placed the tip of his sword against the werewolf’s ruined throat. “Who sent you?”

The werewolf opened his eyes, revealing bright yellow irises.

I stopped just behind Vander. My heart thumped wildly, and my fingers twitched for the dagger I’d left buried in the wolf I killed.

Malice burned in the werewolf’s eyes as he stared up at Vander. The splintered bones protruding from his neck moved up and down with each reedy breath.

Vander pressed the blade into a shivering knot of veins and sinew. “Who sent you?”

The werewolf’s gaze shifted to me. Recognition glimmered in his eyes.

With a savage growl, Vander moved sideways, blocking the werewolf’s view of me. “Don’t look at her.”

A wet chuckle drifted around Vander. “You’re a fool, Blackfell. She—” The werewolf’s voice cut off with a wet crunch. Vander swung away, his expression flat and cold. The werewolf stared sightlessly at the lightening sky. His head was no longer attached to his body.

“You killed him,” I said, revulsion warring with confusion.

Vander brushed past me. “His throat was crushed. He was as good as dead.”

I spun around, and my confusion slid into wariness as Vander moved about the clearing, pausing over each wolf as though checking for signs of life. Apparently satisfied that none of the others were breathing, he began tidying up the battle scene.

“He called you by name,” I said.

Vander’s expression was shuttered as he used the toe of his boot to scuff over a patch of blood on the ground. “I’m a recognizable enough figure in Nocta.”

“Did you know him?”

“No.”

I could feel the door shutting. “He looked at me,” I said. “He was trying to say something.”

Vander shook his head. “He would have insulted you.”

“How can you know that?”

Silver eyes met mine. “Because I know werewolves.” He walked toward Maddox, snagging his cloak from the ground with the tip of his sword as he went. When he reached the horse, it snorted and pushed its nose into Vander’s shoulder so forcefully it knocked Vander backward a step. Vander cleaned his sword on a fold of his cloak, then sheathed the weapon and scratched behind Maddox’s ear.

I observed all this with doubt nibbling at the edges of my mind. Vander had questioned the werewolf, then killed him as soon as it seemed like the wolf was prepared to give answers.

“He called you a fool,” I said.

Vander continued stroking Maddox, his attention on the horse. “As I said, werewolves are prone to insults.”

Frustration bubbled up. I looked around the ring of crystals before returning my gaze to Vander. “You expected them to attack. You warded the clearing because you knew they were coming for us.”

“These are borderlands. Attacks are common.”

Maybe. But the werewolf had acted like he knew me. Like he was about to say something important. Mama never forgot important things. But she’d kept them from me.

And now Vander wouldn’t look at me.

I shook my head. “You’re lying about something.”