Pack of Wolves
by
Maggie Claire
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
World Castle Publishing, LLC
Pensacola, Florida
Copyright © Maggie Claire 2019
Smashwords Edition
Paperback ISBN: 9781950890750
eBook ISBN: 9781950890767
First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, October 7, 2019.
http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com
Smashwords Licensing Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Cover: Karen Fuller
Editor: Maxine Bringenberg
Chapter 1
“How do you want to approach this?” Suryc asks as he circles the forest near the House of Vultures. He stays as close to the canopy as he dares, dodging long branches that reach their claw-like fingers toward the sky. Cyrus leans low over his Ddraig’s back, silently contemplating his mission, struggling in vain to keep his mind away from Iris. Their last argument weighs heavily on his heart.
“She hates me, Suryc,” Cyrus mumbles under his breath, hardly daring to breathe as he recalls the loathing that flashed out of Iris’s eyes. “Did she send me back to Wolf so that he would kill me?”
“Cyrus, focus on your job. The Ddraigs will be coming to find their riders very soon. You’ve got to get these people to listen to you!” Suryc snorts, his tail flicking behind him in annoyance. “Whatever Iris feels about you is irrelevant right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Cyrus mumbles, brushing his fingers across his exposed, wind burned face. The sharp stinging in his skin shocks the former leader of the House of Vultures, reminding him of everything he has lost. This foreign feeling of the sun and wind brings Iris back to his mind’s eye. Without her, none of this would have even been possible. No matter how hard he tries, Cyrus cannot tear her out of his thoughts. “I…I think it’s best if I go to my brother alone. Just set me down in the forest, then find someplace to hide.” Cyrus shouts over the whoosh of Suryc’s wings, his voice barely audible. “I don’t want Wolf anywhere near you, Suryc. No matter what he does to me, you stay out of sight.”
Suryc roars, sending tendrils of fire down to scald the topmost branches of the barren trees. A few of the heartier limbs lose their pathetically small leaves as they fizzle and float down to the forest’s floor. “I don’t like this plan, Cyrus! How am I supposed to protect you if—?”
“You will not go near my brother and his armies; do you understand me? Wolf is ruthless! He will do anything to hurt me, and that includes killing you, Suryc. No matter what happens, do not get caught. Wait for Iris and the other Ddraigs. When they show up, you go with them. Even if that means leaving me behind, okay?” Cyrus bites his lip as he brushes the thick ebony scales at the base of Suryc’s head. The thought of being parted from his Ddraig is as painful as the idea of losing a limb.
Suryc writhes in physical agony at the thought of abiding by Cyrus’s wishes. He drops his head in defeat when he decides to obey. “Just don’t die, Cadogan.” In his words, Suryc voices his unspoken fears and heartache. Then, as gently as a whispered sigh, Suryc eases Cyrus down to the ground, keening a prayer up to the heavens as he flies to find a hiding place.
Cyrus feels the torturous emotions of his Ddraig as Suryc disappears from view. No matter what happens to me, you rejoin Iris. Living or dead, you will honor me by following and protecting her. A mental shuddering in his thoughts expresses Suryc’s obedient nod.
“How am I going to get Cane to listen? Iris is a fool if she thinks he’s suddenly going to change his mind and see me as valuable,” Cyrus whispers aloud as he paces toward the derelict house whose half-burned walls are barely standing. All of the roof and second floor have collapsed, most of the rotting wood falling around the lower rooms. The remaining structure looks like it is one breath away from crumbling. Yet Cyrus does not notice the state of the condemned place; his mind is too busy worrying. She just sent me on this mission to get away from me. Can I blame her for that? All the hatred, all the vile, contemptable ideas that she harbors about me are my own damn fault! I must get this right if I have any chance of getting Iris to trust me. But how? What can I possibly do that will ever make her forget the horrors of the House of Vultures? Cyrus flutters between fury, sorrow, and apprehension with each step closer to his brother. Only the crunch of the gravel under his feet alerts him to his proximity to the house.
Raising his gaze, Cyrus immediately focuses on the empty eyes of Falcon. Her decaying body is still fastened to the traitor bonds along the fence. Signs of carrion birds and other scavengers mar her once smooth flesh. Bites and gouges pepper her sunken, ashen skin. Her widely gaping death smile entrances Cyrus as he draws closer to her side. It’s like Falcon finally found her ultimate pleasure in her gruesome demise. “She always loved violence. I guess it’s fitting she die like this,” he coldly declares as he stares at her gleaming white teeth set in gray gums and receding, lifeless lips.
“Back to join her?” a voice calls out from the charred porch of the decaying House of Vultures.
“Why are you still here?” Cyrus questions, genuinely curious as he stares at his brother’s masked face. “Still hoping she will come back with a Ddraig that is willing to take you?” I shouldn’t provoke him, Cyrus admonishes himself, even as sincere pleasure ripples through his veins
