The Unforgettable Wolf. Jane Godman

He reached out a hand and flipped the switch on the lamp.

      His uninvited visitor grinned. “Must I remind you that I’m a happily married man?”

      Nate sat up against the pillows, tucking the bedcovers around his waist. “Looking good for it, Cal. Being a father obviously suits you.”

      It still felt strange to call Merlin Caledonius by his nickname. The greatest sorcerer the world had ever known, the man responsible for bringing the legendary King Arthur to the throne, should surely be accorded more respect. Nate reminded himself that Cal was the name the man himself preferred.

      “You haven’t seen me trying to change a diaper. It would do my reputation no good whatsoever if word of how bad I am at that simple task ever got out. Three children, and it doesn’t get any easier. Stella sends her love, by the way.”

      Nate could never think of Cal’s wife, Stella, without remembering that night six years ago. As far as he could recall it. Some of the details were a blur. The part where he had tried to rip Stella’s throat out was pretty much lost in the mists of time. The voice in his head urging him on wasn’t. Nate could still hear that voice. It haunted his dreams.

      “Sending mine right back to her. And the twins? How are they? Nice touch on the names, by the way. Keeping the whole Merlin and Arthur theme going.”

      “We think so. And it’s a tribute to one of my best friends, of course. Young Jethro and Arthur are thriving, thank you.”

      “It was certainly unexpected that your friend Jethro de Loix would turn out to be the reincarnation of King Arthur,” Nate said.

      “But useful when it came to naming our sons. We were able to name both twins after the same person.” Cal cast a glance around the bland room. “Not up to your usual standard. Seeing this, no one would believe you were one of the most well-known men in Europe.”

      “The choice of location was yours. They don’t exactly deal in luxury out here in the back of beyond. Anyway, I thought we agreed I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. The band may only have made it big in the US recently, but people tend to sit up and take notice when I fly into town.” Should he mention the courier? There was always a tendency to assume Cal knew everything. “Which reminds me, I was recognized yesterday.”

      Cal muttered a curse. “Give me the details and I’ll sort it out.”

      Nate nodded. He knew the man assigned with the task of keeping the peace on the boundaries between Otherworld and the mortal realm was unlikely to mean anything sinister by those words. It was probable Cal would simply erase the courier’s memory, or use some other sorcerer’s trick on him.

      Nate yawned and glanced at the clock again. He’d been asleep for four hours. It felt like less. “Who have you got for me this time?”

      Cal produced a photograph from the pocket of his button-down shirt. It showed a young man, looking directly at the camera. There was a slight smile on his face as he raised a beer bottle in salute to whoever was taking the picture.

      “He looks about the same age I was.” Nate’s voice was expressionless. This was always the hardest part.

      “A bit younger.” Cal’s tone held a note of sympathy that Nate really didn’t want to hear.

      “How long?” He swallowed hard, fighting the emotions that were trying to rise up inside him. This was going to be difficult enough without feeling any sort of attachment.

      “Three months.”

      “Just a novice.”

      “Hardly that.” Cal produced another set of pictures, and Nate’s resolve hardened. Blood, gore and the torn-apart bodies of innocent victims would do that every time.

      “Where?” Nate became businesslike again.

      “There is a thriving werewolf population in this part of the world. A peaceable one for the most part. They generally live alongside the humans without drawing attention to themselves, but there is a big party tonight. It’s a fund-raiser of some kind.” Cal tapped the photographs with one fingertip. “Our friend here is a feral werewolf, so he won’t be invited. But he will be drawn to the other werewolves. Pack instinct. He won’t be able to help himself. It will be easier to hunt him and take him down out there, in the countryside, than in town.”

      Nate nodded. What Cal was saying made sense. Werewolves were sociable. They liked to reinforce their pack status with regular parties and meetings. The rogues he hunted were cast out by the werewolves who lived alongside mortals. They gave werewolves a bad name. Even so, the feral ones, the ones who belonged to the legends of full moons and misty moors, still longed to be part of lycanthrope society and were drawn to their law-abiding counterparts without understanding why. It was just another facet to the curse they labored under. He remembered it well.

      Nate drew a breath. The formalities might be over, but there was something else he needed to say. Even though he knew what Cal’s response would be, he always had to raise the subject. It burned away inside him, ate him up. He needed to hear the words every time just in case, by some miracle, they might be different.

      “You know which one I want you to send me after.”

      Cal shook his head. Like he always did. “You know it can’t be done. Nevan rarely enters the mortal realm, and it would be too dangerous for you to go after him on his home territory. Otherworld is not the place for humans.”

      “I’d risk it if it meant I could take that bastard out.” Nate hated the tremor in his hands as he pressed his fingertips against his temple. “When I remember what he did to me. Having him inside my head...”

      “Let it go, Nate.” Cal’s voice was gentle.

      Nate leaned back on his pillows, breathing deep as he tilted his head to look at the ceiling. Let it go? Only a man who had never lived with the nightmare Nate had endured could utter those words. Six years ago, Nate had been attacked by a feral werewolf. Having survived, Nate had become a rogue werewolf himself, subject to the same bloodlust each time the moon was full. Even worse, his mind had been controlled by a powerful, manipulative werewolf called Nevan. This werewolf, one whom Nate had never met, had used an evil form of telepathy to try and force him to kill Stella.

      Nate had a feeling he might be the only person who had lived through the horror of becoming a werewolf and coming through the other side as a human once more. That remarkable feat was due to the ingenuity of Cal and Stella. When Nate had attempted to kill Stella, Cal had stabbed him through the heart with a silver dagger, killing the werewolf within him. Stella, who was the greatest necromancer the world had ever known—so great that she was known throughout Otherworld as the “necromancer star”—had used her incredible powers to bring him back to life. Nate had survived the experience. He was intact, but not unscathed.

      Cal regarded him steadily. “Although I’ve never questioned your commitment, I worry about what this does to you.”

      “It screws with my head, but I can’t stop.” Nate gave a shaky laugh. “And I don’t see a queue of people lining up to take my place. So, worrying or not, I guess I’m the only werewolf hunter you have.”

      Cal nodded. “I know this is no consolation, but Nevan has his own set of problems right now. As well as struggling to maintain control after a bloody fight to take over as leader, his youngest daughter has gone missing.”

      “My heart bleeds for him.” Nate managed a sarcastic snarl that was a little too wolfish for his own liking. “Just so we’re clear...if the opportunity ever presents itself, I will do whatever it takes to make that bastard pay for what he did to me. With or without your approval.”

      * * *

      The party was in full swing when they arrived. Held in a vast, ranch-style house deep in the heart of a Vermont forest, it was unlike any other Violet had ever attended. The dress code was casual; there were no formal introductions, and, since dinner seemed to consist of helping yourself to raw steak and beer, there wasn’t a seating plan. The