chapter 2

William sat at the butcher-block table in the small kitchen of the house he shared with Paoli. He stared at the paper before him—scripted in Paoli’s neat handwriting—with open surprise. On the page was a single name and species along with location. 

“Are you sure this is right?” He asked with a frown.

“It’s right,” Paoli confirmed without even glancing at him on his way past.

“When was the last time we had a female werewolf?” William raised a skeptical brow.

“It’s rare they’re marked," Paoli agreed, taking the chair across from him and propping his bare feet on the edge of the table for no reason other than he knew it bugged William.

Paoli was one of the oldest vampires William had ever met, and by far the least conspicuous. He stood only about an inch shorter than William was himself, which put him just shy of six feet. Where William's hair was raven and cropped short, Paoli's was a dark blond and long enough to rest on his shoulders. He had none of the dark characteristics a person would usually associate with a vampire—especially a vampire as old as he was. 

Instead of being intimidating and tortured, he was always the first to laugh and the last to take anything—including himself—seriously. He had a light-hearted and fun-loving nature that kept him very popular with the opposite sex, which—according to Paoli—accounted for his light-hearted nature.

“We haven’t had one in the last…what, hundred years?” William reached out and flicked the end of Paoli’s toe hard enough to send an electric jolt of pain halfway up his leg.

Paoli howled and snatched his foot back. Humor glittered in his eyes as he cradled the injury. “Now that just wasn’t nice,” he proclaimed.

“Keep your nasty feet off the table,” William told him with a pointed stare and a long-suffering sigh. “If we’re going after a female wolf, you need to focus. She probably has a whole pack surrounding her. I’ll need your help this time.”

Paoli gave him an impish grin and folded his legs neatly under him before he offered an indifferent shrug. “I don’t mind hunting werewolves,” he said offhandedly. “It’s the vampires that give me the creeps.”

William shook his head at the irony of that statement. “How can vampires give you the creeps? You are a vampire.”

“Not that kind of vampire,” Paoli shuddered dramatically.

“Sorry, I forgot. You’re a nice vampire,” William said with a derisive snort.

Paoli ignored the mocking tone. “That’s right," he confirmed. "I’m like a mosquito. I take just what I need to survive, and don’t kill anyone."

William gave him a look.

“It’s more than you can say,” Paoli pointed out defensively.

“I’m not a vampire,” William reminded him.

“You're not completely vampire, but close enough to be forgiven for that,” Paoli said. “Everyone has their own struggle in this world, after all.”

“What’s your struggle?” William wanted to know.

Paoli scoffed. “You think it’s easy being your conscience? Or this good-looking?” He added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Or that humble,” William added under his breath. He tapped the paper in front of him to redirect Paoli to the matter at hand. “We’ll have to use stealth,” he mused.

“They'll never know I'm there." Paoli moved his arms in his best ninja imitation.

“Do you know anything about the pack?” William asked, wondering why this she-wolf had been given a death sentence. It was all but unheard of. Packs normally defended their females, so they had no need to spill human blood. Which all but eliminated the chances of them losing their humanity and being condemned.

Hell, they were the humanity in a pack. 

“What’s on the paper is all I know,” Paoli said with a shrug, getting up to head toward the fridge.              

William leaned back in his chair and sat silent, thinking. “Are you sure we should do this tonight? It’s a full moon and this place is almost two hours from here.”

He didn’t mention he had plans for a full moon run himself.  

“Where are wolves during a full moon?” Paoli asked over his shoulder, his head in the fridge. He grabbed a bag of red liquid and poured it into a mug before throwing a questioning look at William.

“Two for me,” William answered absently while he considered the question. “Wolves hunt during the full moon.” It was a piece of common knowledge that werewolves were at least partially controlled by the moon. Even he could feel its pull.

“Exactly,” Paoli agreed, setting the mugs in the microwave to warm.

“Which means this might be a good chance to get her alone,” William concluded slowly, trying to make sense of Paoli's logic.

“Maybe not alone, but at least not as well guarded as usual,” Paoli said, taking both mugs back to the table and setting one in front of William.

William gave an absent nod of thanks and took a drink. He savored the flavor as the liquid warmed him. It might not be as good as it was fresh, but at least it came without the guilt. And without the nagging from his conscience across the table.

For the next thirty minutes, they discussed strategy and alternate strategy in case they found themselves with more opponents than expected. Several plans were made, depending on whether their target hunted with the pack or waited somewhere else. Eventually, William was satisfied they had a plan for each possible scenario.

The car was loaded down with the usual cache of weapons, making especially sure they had plenty of silver-tipped ammunition. From personal experience, William knew the crippling agony of silver. No immortal could fight with that kind of pain searing through their veins, which is why he used it when forced to play his role of executioner. Nothing took the fight out of his quarry like a silver-based injury. 

Finally, he wrote the directions down and insisted Paoli leave his cellphone at home. It was a habit he’d gotten into when he realized how easy it was to track those handy little devices. Besides, he didn’t want technology on him while hunting. It would be just his luck for the annoying thing to start beeping and give away his position at the wrong moment. Dying wouldn’t bother him, but he didn't want it to be because of something like that. He wanted a real death; a warrior's end. Dying in battle was an honorable and proud thing. Dying from sheer stupidity was just embarrassing.

William killed the lights and pulled off the road and into a clearing. It was a decent-sized area; clear of trees, but full of holes and uneven ground, which made it less than ideal for driving—a fact he only realized once they were halfway in. Any high grass area could easily conceal a hidden stump or deep rut, though they were fortunate enough not to find one.

The house they were headed to was surrounded by corn fields on three sides—all thankfully late to be harvested—which gave them the luxury of cover they hadn’t expected.

Paoli breathed an audible sigh of relief as they silently started to wend their way through the field at the back of the property, moving carefully through the corn to avoid giving away their presence. Recent rains had made the ground soggy, which meant their every step made a slight sucking noise. Light from the shining moon spilled across the land, casting eerie shadows and making the corn look like silent sentries.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Paoli whispered, ducking to avoid a stray leaf that seemed to be reaching for him. “Corn is a seriously creepy vegetable.”

William stopped moving and gave him a look that threatened violence.

Paoli raised his hands in mock surrender and mouthed ‘sorry’.

William continued to glare at him another minute. The damned fool was going to get them detected yet! There was no telling how many wolves might be around, or how close the pack was to the house. If they lost the element of surprise because of Paoli’s big mouth, he’d damned well take it out of his hide. If they survived the attack, of course, which was in no way a foregone conclusion. William might be an extremely powerful immortal and an unparalleled fighter, but taking on a whole pack was a tall order, even for him. Paoli was no slouch in combat either, but still. They didn’t know if there were four or forty wolves. Being surrounded was not a good way to learn.

He was still glaring at Paoli when a scent caught his attention. It was very faint at first, like a whisper.

A promise.

It was there for only a second, then gone.

His head snapped around involuntarily and something foreign inside him became very alert and focused.

“What's wrong?” Paoli whispered, closing the distance between them to stand at his side.

“Did you smell that?” William closed his eyes and smelled the air, chasing the elusive scent. It was gone and he couldn't pick it back up.

Paoli gave him a bemused look, then sniffed and shook his head slowly. “I don’t smell anything,” he said.

William was wary now. Something was going on and he didn’t know what. Unexplained phenomenon was never good in enemy territory. It was in the back of his mind to leave and come back another day. But something about that scent stayed him.

It didn’t smell dangerous or threatening.

It smelled...good.

Comforting, somehow.

Caution edged his every step when they resumed their advance. There was something so familiar about the smell, and yet not. Almost like a memory playing on the edge of his mind that he just couldn’t bring into focus. It drove everything else out of his immediate concentration.

He was aware of Paoli watching him with concern, but as he had no explanation to offer, he ignored it and continued forward. They had a job to do. No matter what else was happening, he needed to remember the job. Somewhere nearby was a female wolf with a sentence of death. He had to get his focus back on that before his fractured concentration led both he and Paoli into trouble. 

Just a few more steps brought the scent again, stronger this time. He breathed in the subtle aroma, trying to figure out why it had such an alluring effect on him. It brought to mind the old sailor legends of sirens luring men to certain doom. Was that what was happening?

“Are you seriously telling me you don’t smell that?” He hissed at Paoli.

Paoli frowned, his face growing even more concerned. With his eyes still on William, he breathed in the night air very slowly. After a few seconds, he shook his head and gave William a look of mingled confusion and annoyance. “I don’t smell it," he said, a little defensively. "I'm a vampire. My sense of smell isn't as good as yours. What does it smell like?”

Peace. Joy.

“I don’t know how to describe it.” William took another lungful of air. “But it’s different than anything I've ever scented."

Better. More.

“I don’t like this," Paoli said, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow and try again.”

“Tomorrow won’t be a full moon," William pointed out, though part of him was inclined to agree. "This may be the best chance we'll have for a month. Do you really want to wait that long?”  He gave Paoli his full attention and raised one sardonic brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Paoli said with as much exacerbation as he could manage at a whisper. “Better to wait a month than get caught in a trap. I don’t want to turn to dust at sunrise and blow away after they kill us. Well,” he added off-handedly. "I’d blow away in the sun. There's no telling what'll happen to you."  

William would have conceded his point, but there was something about the scent that called to him in a visceral way. It brought out a need to…protect. Guard. Provide. There was no hint of malice. “This doesn’t give me the impression of danger,” he said carefully.

He hoped his voice didn't sound as befuddled as he felt. What was happening?

He began to move again. Paoli was still watching him closely, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just needed to find the source of the unusual smell. It seemed to leech into his mind and push out everything else. His mission was all but forgotten. He pressed on, Paoli right beside him. After what seemed like forever, they broke through the last row of corn and were near enough for an unobstructed view of the property.

So close to the house, the sweet scent seemed to pour over him like warm honey, saturating him with promises untold. As if a spell had been cast, it dragged the instincts of his beast forward. All capacity for the tight reign of control he fought to hold onto was gone. Paoli was talking, but none of his words penetrated the blind fog in William’s mind. There was nothing in the entire world but that smell.

“William?” Paoli's voice was suddenly hesitant and questioning.

William barely responded at all, and when Paoli gripped his arm to gain his attention, the eyes that snapped toward him were liquid gold and hungry with a predator’s light.

“Oh no!" Paoli exclaimed, seeing that. "This is not the time to go all wolfy. You have to fight it before you get us both killed!”