“Enough!” The deep, commanding shout echoed between the trees, shook snow from the branches. I glanced over and saw the three elders, all wearing long robes, standing there with Elder Wilde slightly in front. He’d been the one who’d given the order.
The wolves, their wounds healed, went low to the ground, ready to pounce again, teeth bared, low growls emitting from their throats. The creature ignored them as though they were merely stuffed toys. Then his gaze zeroed in on me and my heart galloped.
“Hayden Holland.” The harvester wasn’t human, but it still had the ability to speak, and its voice sounded as though it traveled through a wall of phlegm. It smelled of rotten eggs. “We will meet again during the next full moon.”
“What are you? A writer for bad horror movies?” I didn’t know where I’d found the bravado to speak. The snark was my need to demonstrate that it wouldn’t dim my spirit, that I wouldn’t go down easily, that like Justin, I would fight with every breath that remained in me.
It collapsed into a cloud of mist and slithered back through the trees, low to the ground, like a retreating snake. For that brief moment in time when it had been concentrating on me, I’d felt the fear and agony of a thousand souls: Shifters it had reaped and harvested.
In wolf form, all except for Brittany, the Dark Guardians circled Justin. I knew he was gone. That his soul was now one of those held by the harvester. Tears rolled down my cheeks, crystallized on my lashes. If only I’d recognized his fear sooner, could we have done more? Could we have saved him?
Brittany took a step back and when she was beside me, she whispered, “He died as a wolf. He should have reverted back to human form.”
I nodded. He should have. But not when the creature we’d just seen had his way.
When I visited Wolford and dealing with others’ emotions became too much, sometimes I’d sneak away to the treasures room, where the artifacts of our kind were kept and watched over by the elders. They indulged me. Had even allowed me to touch and read the ancient texts, had taught me how to decipher the ancient symbols. So I knew a little more about the harvester than she did apparently.
The harvester rose from the bowels of hell during a full moon to snatch the power and soul of a Shifter during the height of his transformation, leaving the body without the means to shift back into human form. It fed on fear and gathered strength from our abilities. There hadn’t been a sighting in centuries. Some had begun to think the harvester was nothing except myth and legend. Unfortunately, they’d been wrong.
The forest was so quiet that I could have heard a pine needle drop.
Elder Thomas moved forward and knelt beside Justin. He buried his hand in Justin’s fur. The elders were strong enough to shield their emotions from me, so I couldn’t feel what he was feeling, but I knew it all the same. The overwhelming grief was etched clearly on his face. In spite of the fact that he was nearing one hundred, he cradled Justin in his arms, stood, and carried him toward the manor. The others followed. All except Elder Wilde, who approached me, his eyes a well of sadness.
“We’ll ensure that you do not suffer the same fate,” he said quietly.
And exactly how are you going to do that? I almost asked. But I’d been taught not to disrespect the elders.
As though knowing my thoughts, he dropped his hand heavily on my shoulder. Always I’d drawn comfort from his touch. Tonight I felt nothing.
“We’ll research the ancient texts. We’ll find a way to destroy it. It’ll be all right, Hayden,” Elder Wilde said to me as he guided me back toward the manor.
It wasn’t reassuring to learn that he, the wisest of the wise, didn’t know how to destroy the harvester. A month wasn’t very long to search through old books for the answer.
Wolford was our haven, our sanctuary, but we’d been unable to protect Justin, to save him. The harvester had come for him. Next full moon, it would come for me.
Not only for me but for my mate.
While guys went through their first transformation alone, legend had it that girls required a mate to guide them through it in order to survive. Sexist, but there it was, a tradition begun way before women demanded equality. My latest presence at Wolford was also supposed to serve as my opportunity to secure a mate before my full moon. So far that quest had been a total bust. What guy in his right mind wanted to hang around with a girl who sensed everything he was feeling, who experienced it exactly as he did?
But I was no longer convinced that not having a mate was a bad thing. He would transform at the precise moment that I did. A special deal for the harvester. Two for the price of one.
I couldn’t allow that to happen, couldn’t risk another’s life. Even if it meant sacrificing my own. I knew the elders and the Dark Guardians wouldn’t approve of my plan. But I couldn’t see that it was their decision to make.
I couldn’t stay at Wolford. I had to escape. Tonight. I’d run fast and hard. I’d hide. Until the next full moon—
ONE
Almost three weeks later
“Here you go,” I said, smiling brightly as I handed the cute guy at the counter his mug of hot apple cider.
“Thanks…” He leaned forward, read the name tag pinned to my red sweater, and winked. “Hayden.”
I hadn’t bothered with a fake name. It wouldn’t have gained me anything. If the Dark Guardians were searching for me, they’d use my scent—not my name—to locate me. It was the reason that I hadn’t changed the color or style of my sandy blond hair. I wore it pulled back when I was at work, but otherwise I left it to flow past my shoulders. No disguise would fool my kind. Even perfumes wouldn’t cover up the essence of my true scent. And wolves with human minds were the best trackers in the world. I was taking the tactic that hiding in plain sight was my best defense. In truth, my only defense.
“You’ve got the most unusual eyes,” he continued. “They remind me of caramel.”
They were rather distinct. Not dark enough to be brown, not quite hazel. Caramel was as good a description as any. “Thanks,” I said. He was cute but not really my type—being a full human and all.
“Where do you go to school?” he asked.
It was the most frequently asked question, quickly followed by what’s your major, then do you have a boyfriend. My answer was always the same corny line that one of the other workers, Lisa, had suggested I use: If I told you, then I’d have to kill you. I hoped my flirty smile would soften the blow of brushing him off.