Hey there, Summoners! Thanks for sticking with me through this whole long process. As a thank you for your continued support, I wanted to give you guys an exclusive look at the opening pages of Shadow of the Wolf. Check it out below!
-Tess
Seven Years Earlier
Down in the dark, labyrinthine bowels beneath his familial estate, in a lab that had never once seen the light of day, Charles Logan was having a less than perfect day. He always knew when the day was about to be a bad one, because it would be heralded early in the morning by some household accident that always resulted in a tiny, unnecessary cut on one of his fingers. He wasn’t normally a superstitious man, but this pattern had happened often enough that he’d long since taken notice. Today, he had cut himself no less than three separate times.
If anyone had been around to ask him, they might have ascertained that some of his unpleasant day had originated in a fight he’d had with his business partner the day before. The fight amounted to his own request for a certain piece of information, and his partner’s point-blank refusal to give it to him. This rejection flustered him in a way he didn’t fully understand. It confounded him that he had even needed to ask; since when did Hugh Knatt hold the greater mastery of any subject, let alone this particular one?
And yet, the truth of the matter was undeniable: Hugh knew things that Charles didn’t. And he refused to share.
So, it was in this spirit of vexation and uncertainty that Charles Logan had begun his day. The first cut had come during his breakfast when, absent the usual help from his partner, Charles had cut into a loaf of bread using a knife that had absolutely no business being as sharp as it was. After that, Charles decided that eggs were likely too ambitious a project for a morning like this, so he contented himself with a single (somewhat bloody) piece of toast and a cup of black coffee.
The second cut happened in the lab. He’d been holding a beaker full of dark blue liquid when his hand had simply slipped. The beaker crashed to the ground, spilling its contents all over his shoes. Fortunately, this liquid wasn’t particularly acidic, so the only tragedy in dropping it was the loss of material. After he believed he’d swept up all the broken pieces, he spotted one last piece on the ground. As soon as his hand made contact with it, he felt the sharp sting of a seam opening in the flesh of his thumb.
The third happened more than an hour later. By then, he’d already grown quite sick of all the tiny mistakes and inconveniences the day had already offered him. He knew that when one was attempting to do something that had never been accomplished before, one had to accept a certain number of challenges and setbacks as a matter of course. But he hadn’t expected as many as had befallen him. He’d hoped to be much farther along than this by now.
He adjusted the flame beneath his concoction and added in an extra hunk of sage. His next catalyst test was nearly ready. He put a few more drops of blue liquid in, then waited for the bubbles to subside.
The words he knew by heart, perhaps to his own detriment. He readied his hand.
“Capere tutto,” he commanded as he struck the match. “Capere null.”
With a shake of his hand, he let the potion spill out over the flame. Together, the two acted as the catalyst for his cast. The power they ignited reverberated through the room, shaking its very foundation.
The demon let out a short scream.
He’d had it trapped in the cell before, but now it was chained up in the lab so he could do his tests. Its mouth still hanging open, it tipped back its head, then rocked it forward, letting something loose from its mouth as it did so. Charles attempted to dodge out of the way, but he couldn’t quite move his hand fast enough. The same hand that had already borne the brunt of the morning’s assault now took a third hit, as a strange, spiny spike grazed past it, slicing open the back of his forefinger.
Fortunately for him, that seemed to be all the fight the demon had left in it. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that the look the demon gave him now was one of resentment. But perhaps he was merely projecting.
Nevertheless, he recognized the slack hang of the demon’s limbs, the way it no longer strained against its chains. In fact, it looked like it might slump to the floor at any moment. At last, his experiment could begin in earnest.
He checked the gun at his hip first, letting his set of keys clang into clear view. He had barely taken his first step when he heard a chime ring on the opposite wall.
It was the doorbell. He’d set it up so he could hear it all the way down here, just in case someone from the Order showed up unannounced one day. Experiments like his were best done in the dark, without interference from the outside world.
Were it not for the events of the previous night, he would have left the door to Hugh instead of allowing an interruption to his work at this crucial stage. As it was, he knew Hugh wouldn’t answer anytime soon. He didn’t even know if Hugh had come back home yet. So, with a sigh, he left the demon’s chains in place and dropped his cast. Immediately, the beast’s growling resumed, as did its attempts to strain at the restraints keeping him in place.
Charles locked his lab behind him as he went, just in case. It was best if nobody else went in, and certainly best if nobody else came out.
A few minutes later, he had traded out his lab coat for a sweater and made his way up the stairs, making sure to lock the door at the top, as well. One could never be too careful.
He stopped in front of a mirror before opening the door, just to make sure nothing looked amiss. Apart from the three cuts that now peppered his fingers, he looked just like any other man.
The doorbell rang again as he cut through the kitchen to get to it. At long last, he pulled it open. On the other side stood a young man with pale blond hair and a somewhat sickly look about him. The young man smiled broadly.
“Mr. Logan, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” he said. His voice had an accent, but Charles found he couldn’t quite identify it. The man straightened his black tie, which sat neatly over a black shirt. “We spoke on the phone about a week ago—I’m following up on my father’s research. You told me I might pay you a visit today. Does that sound familiar?”
“Ah, yes,” said Charles, a vague memory emerging through the mist of time. “I’m sorry, I must be having an off morning. Could you remind me of your name again?”
“It’s Casimir Volkov, sir.”
“Ah, Volkov, yes. Come in, come in.”
Volkov smiled broadly at him.
Then he stepped inside.
Chapter One
A Hint of Smoke
They didn’t have much time, all things considered. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the Wolf came looking, or sent someone in his stead. She’d told Knatt they needed to collect Charles Logan as soon as she could, but she couldn’t tell him why while there was any chance someone from the Order could overhear.
It was bad enough that Volkov had said the words out loud in Order territory: I know you’re a half-demon.
There’s never been anyone in the world like you.
H.C. Logan didn’t need any more incriminating information floating around in Order-controlled airspace.
When they were finally in the car, heading north to collect Charles, she felt herself let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. They didn’t have any answers yet, but at least they were doing something. It felt good to do something. Even better that Knatt had let her drive, which meant she was free to skate above the speed limit as much as she wanted, her sharper demon senses on the lookout for signs of trouble—for once, of the mundane cop variety.
“Well,” said Knatt, when they’d been driving silently for nearly 15 minutes, “do you suppose you’re going to explain what we’re doing any time soon?”
If she’d been in less of a tense mood, she might have rolled her eyes.
“The Wolf has been visiting Charles,” she said simply, her tone so neutral it surprised even her. Didn’t she feel angry about this?
Or was the feeling closer to disgust?
“Are you certain?”
Logan nodded, her eyes never straying from the road ahead. “He knows I’m half-demon. And before this past summer, there were only, what, five people in the world who knew? Two of whom are untouchable eira Masters, and two of whom are you and me. So unless you’re about to confess something pretty huge…Charles Logan is the weakest link.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod as he mulled this over.
“And if he was visiting Charles…who knows what else he might have asked him?”
“Exactly.” She shook her head, barely keeping in a growl. “It’s not like Charles is exactly practiced in the art of putting others’ needs before his own. We need to get to him before the Wolf comes back for more…if there’s anything left he hasn’t already said, that is.”
“Agreed.”
Logan stared out at the road ahead. She supposed she ought to be grateful there was so little traffic. The road was slick with rain, the trees drooping overhead…as she slowed her speed in anticipation of the car that would soon pass in the other direction, a thought occurred. There was something familiar about all of this. Granted, that went without saying—she could no longer count the number of road trips she’d been on in her life. Plenty of them had gone exactly like this: her in the driver seat, Knatt in the passenger’s side, both of them contemplating what parts of their upcoming case they might be missing. It had been a few years since Knatt had come with her into the field, but the memory of it remained intact.
And yet…she was sure that wasn’t it. She was remembering something else entirely. The ambient sounds of the car lulled a piece of her mind into passivity, and she could just about make out another car, another arrangement.
She was a child, and her father was driving the car.
She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten there. She’d simply woken up already in the car, fully strapped in, her father at the wheel beside her, while miles and miles of evergreen trees zoomed past.
“Where are we going?” she asked groggily.
“Somewhere very special,” he answered—authoritatively, not quite reassuringly. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get there.”
The memory faded out after that. She was sure it was real, but…she had no idea how it concluded. In fact, she had half a dozen memories just like that: road trips with her father that seemed to have no conclusion, no destination. They just stopped.
She glanced over at Knatt, who looked like he was deep in contemplation. It wasn’t a rare look on him, and yet…she felt somewhat reluctant to interrupt. For some reason she couldn’t name, she wasn’t sure whether she actually wanted to ask him.
But she had to.
“Hey.” Her voice seemed to catch in her throat until she coughed to clear it. “Do you remember those road trips he used to take me on?”
Knatt’s eyebrows knitted together in concern.
“You mean when he would take off with you in the middle of the night with no warning, and no indication of where he’d gone, or when he would bring you back? Yes, I remember.”
“Did you ever find out where he took me?”
“Well, I never got him to tell me anything,” said Knatt, his expression suddenly furtive, even guilty. “But I looked through his receipts whenever I could. Bank statements, as well.”
“And?”
“He took you all over. California a few times. New Mexico, Alabama, Louisiana. And a number of times, he didn’t even leave the state. He took you to the peninsula at least four or five times. Is there a reason you’re asking about this now?”
“Not sure,” said Logan, shaking her head. “Something made me think of it, is all. Road trip memories, I guess. Or, I don’t know, maybe it’s just…”
She felt herself trailing off, felt her mind automatically changing course, veering away from the subject it never wanted to broach.
“Just what?” asked Knatt, gently, and not gently, at the same time.
It was important to take a deep breath before falling far under the surface of the water. So she readied the jump.
“Every time I go to see him, I have to think about the things he took away from me. And since he’s, well, not even himself anymore…I have to think about the fact that I’ll probably never get them back.”
She glanced automatically to the right, just in time to watch a sudden and unwanted thought dance its way across Knatt’s face.
“What?” Her voice sounded louder, harder than she meant it to.
“Hm? Oh, nothing, I just—I wonder…”
“You wonder what?”
Knatt’s mouth formed into a deep frown.
“I was just thinking what a particular irony it was, that your father’s illness took his memories away, after what he did to you. How strangely poetic.”
Logan didn’t know what to say to that. She’d had a similar thought herself, more than once, but it had never seemed appropriate to say it out loud. She supposed that, despite everything he’d done to her, she still felt a sliver of pity for her father, and what had become of him. Pity enough to try to save his life, even.
She had to wonder if it would turn out to be worth it.
It was raining in northern Washington state. Savino Rossi had never been this far west in America, and as yet, he couldn’t say whether he liked it much. All he had seen of it was rain.
That wasn’t to say the countryside wasn’t beautiful, of course. He stood under the cover of a line of trees at the moment, staring out at a lush, rolling green before him. These were the manicured grounds of a home for the wealthy elderly, but as far as he could see, they stood as a fair example of the rest of the province. The grass before him was still a deep green, and the tall coniferous trees stood green as well.
But beneath all that green lay an ever-thickening mud—and it was a mud he needed to get across. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his big, bulky frame working against him as the heels of his shoes sank into mushy earth.
The rain would make visibility harder for normal human eyes, but he knew he was far from invisible. He hunched as low to the ground as he could before setting off toward the sprawling, spiraling complex in front of him. His feet threatened to slide with every step, but with the help of his new, inhuman grace, he managed to keep himself upright and moving. Despite the difficulty, he made good time. He took cover against the red brick exterior in under a minute.
Another 20 feet, then a left. His Master had shown him the plans for the building, then had him recite his route over and over again, until they were both certain he had it memorized. There would be no second chances today.
He moved down one side of the building, then another, ducking beneath every window he passed. Thanks to their plan, there would be no further risk of exposure until he reached his target…which wouldn’t take long at all.
There it is. Wiping the rain from his face, he peered around the last corner, right through the sliding glass door and into the room beyond. The first thing he could see was a roaring fire on the hearth, throwing long shadows against the other walls. After that, his eyes landed on the overstuffed armchair—and the figure inside it, pathetically huddled under a blanket.
That’s him, thought Rossi, triumphantly. Despite the Master’s fears, the girl is as stupid as the rest. Today will be an easy day.
In one quick motion, he crossed the small cement patio and pressed his palm against the groove in the door. It slid open without resistance. It was unlocked.
Victory swelled his chest, and a smile crested his lips. The air inside the room had warmed pleasantly in the presence of the fire. He stepped forward, sliding the door shut behind him.
“At last, we meet, Mr. Logan,” he said. He stepped forward, sliding a knife out of his waistband. He doubted he’d even need the full extent of his brand-new power for this. “It is a pity I cannot stay long.”
“There’s only one Logan here,” said a voice behind him. Unbidden, his blood turned hot. “And I prefer no prefix, thanks.”
“Shadow summoner,” he growled. Anticipation and delight flooded him: he would get his fight after all. “My master sends his greetings.”
He whipped around, knife held aloft, expecting to see the cold eyes of the shadow summoner, his master’s strange obsession, staring back at him.
Instead, he saw nothing.
“Where are you?”
Something seemed to waver at the right side of his vision, but when he looked for it, it was gone.
“Show yourself!” He whipped his knife back and forth, hoping he might catch her if she was too slow. “Come out and fight me!”
She did as he commanded. As soon as she crashed into him, he could see her. She sent him sprawling to the ground with the force of her blow, while she danced away and adopted a loose boxer’s stance.
She grinned down at him, a naked taunt.
“Aw, gee, did you fall down?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “Should I call for a nurse?”
The heat in his blood had turned into a boil, and he let it take him over. By the time he had leapt to his feet, he could feel every single one of his muscles bulging outward, surging with inhuman power. Now his time had come.
“I will tear you to pieces, you little bitch.”
“Are you sure your Wolf daddy would be happy about that?” Her eyes were alight with glee. “I get the impression he wants me around a little longer.”
“Accidents happen,” he responded, a calculating smile spreading over his face. “Sometimes, one must take a risk.”
With that, he launched himself at her, propelling his bulk forward with all the strength he had. Unfortunately for him, he sacrificed speed for strength. She slipped out of his grasp just as he thought he had her.
But she didn’t go far. Whipping around at the last moment, she aimed a flying kick and hit him square in the ribs, sending him backward. He worked to regain his balance and glared at her.
“Perhaps you are stronger than you look,” he muttered. “It will not matter, in the end.”
He lunged at her again, and again, he missed. This time, she delivered several hard jabs straight to his solar plexus, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Before he had time to recover, she whipped around behind him and kicked out both of his knees, sending him down.
She grabbed hold of his hair and pulled back, exposing his neck. One forearm settled behind while the other wrapped around the front of his throat, pressing into his windpipe and locking him down. Just like that, she’d overpowered him.
“You are a short thing, to be so strong,” he grumbled, forcing the words out around strangled gasps for air.
“Not sure those two correlate the way you think they do,” she answered, tightening her grip. He placed his hands on her arm and started to tug, though he could feel his strength waning rapidly.
“Will you kill me, shadow summoner? I can feel how much you want to.”
“You don’t know what I feel. You don’t know anything about me.”
“But the Wolf does,” he muttered, barely pushing the words past his lips. “He sees your potential…for violence. He knows how…far you could go. Why…why don’t you give in…as you have before?”
He felt her grip tighten. Good. Perhaps his Master would prove right about her, after all.
“Do it,” he hissed. His own fingers were beginning to slacken. “I know you want to.”
To his surprise, he felt her arm begin to release. Was she letting him go?
Before he had the chance to answer himself, he saw the bundle in the armchair, several feet in front of him, get to its feet and throw off the blanket.
“That’s quite enough, I think,” said the figure. It raised a funny-looking gun at him and pulled the trigger.
He had just enough time to recognize his sense of disappointment before the world went black.
