She would probably head toward people, which meant she’d make for Bourbon Street. He hastened in that direction, pushing his body.
Even in these predawn hours, there’d still be a crowd. Though Quondam had provided no hints that she was in the future, this town would give her the shock of her life.
When he isolated her scent, indeed near Bourbon, he picked up his pace even more. Strange, he didn’t scent his men in the area at all.
The fog thinned, revealing the setting moon. Not quite three weeks till it’d be full. He’d gotten fortunate to avoid the full moon in Kereny’s time, and fortunate now. On that night, the need to claim her would overwhelm him, but his claiming bite would kill a human. Unless he got her changed before then.
Passing a newspaper stand, he scanned the date, and his steps faltered a beat. Almost two months had passed since his capture. He’d suspected that Quondam had a time differential from the mortal realm, but not weeks equaling months.
If Munro had been separated from Kereny for minutes, then she’d been out here alone for far too long. No wonder he didn’t scent his men; they’d probably given up waiting for him after their portal had closed.
What must be going on in her head? A jetliner roared overhead. Tugboats chugged along the river. A bright centipede of cars lined a bridge.
She certainly would have figured out what he’d done by now. But he would help her adjust to this time, and then he would win her forgiveness. If he worked hard enough, she would miss nothing about the past, least of all that husband.
Only one thing mattered: She lives.
The pursuit of his mate sparked every cell in his body. His heart beat stronger, and he drew in deep breaths, each spiced with her enticing scent. He spotted her a block away, wending through the crowd.
When she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of him, her eyes widened, and she almost tripped over a busker’s guitar case. At any second, she would whirl around and sprint from him. Prey always ran from Lykae—to a wolf’s delight—but never, ever escaped.
His beast panted for such a possibility tonight.
Muscles tensed to flee, she took Munro’s measure. Yet then she squared her shoulders. No’ going to run? Eyes narrowed with intent, she marched up to him.
Glorious female! His beast was in awe.
“What in the hell have you done to me, Lykae?”
Whatever it took. “You dinna run,” he said, rubbing his regenerating throat. You’re alive. In my time. Unharmed.
She allowed him to squire her into a secluded alley, but then she drew her knife and twirled it with a flourish. “You said my running would excite you. And why would I flee when I can just keep stabbing you?”
Good point.
“I’m actually looking forward to it, seeing the shocked look on your face as I stick you again—”
“Okay, okay, I get it, blade huntress.”
“I require answers from you, wolf. You will give them to me. Now.” Her general’s tone had even his mauled body stirring for her. “What is the year?”
He shook his head. “We canna do this here.” The warlocks would come as soon as they mobilized, and spies were everywhere. No secrets are long-lived in New Orleans. “I’ll take you to a safe place, and we can talk there.”
Through gritted teeth, she said, “The. Year.” The grip on her blade changed.
He exhaled in defeat. “Verra well.”
TWENTY-ONE
Ren’s lungs deflated when his answer sank in.
Wandering this metropolis, she’d seen ever more hints of the time, until she’d finally asked an inebriated group for the year. They’d given her the same answer as Munro. She’d assured herself she shouldn’t believe people who were that drunk.
“A century has passed,” she murmured now. “That gateway was more than a portal. It was a time machine.” She’d read about them in her books.
“Aye. And much has changed. But I will help you acclimate to everything.”
“They’re dead.” Jacob, Vanda, Puideleu, and all of her hunters had passed on. She swallowed hard as tears threatened. “I can’t stay in this time and place. I must return to the Cursed Forest—in my time!”
“That’s no’ possible.”
Misery transformed to fury. “You tricked me into another era! Yet another lie.”
“I dinna tell you, no. And I have been dishonest with you, but my lies were in the service of saving your life.”
“You wrecked the warlocks’ gateway, my only way home. You fucking snake!”
“That’s no’ why I did it. My Lykae Instinct told me to destroy it. You would never be safe as long as it existed, and you would no’ have wanted to use it anyway. Tempus required a sacrifice for every trip to the past.”
The image of that female on the altar flashed in Ren’s mind. “Yet you went to the past to collect me.” She raised her blade against him. “Did you order Ormlo to kill that young woman?” She’d heard Munro tell the warlock that he wouldn’t sacrifice innocents, but now she didn’t know what to believe.
“Nay, she was a friend. Those five warlocks in the temple had already taken her heart when I came upon them.”
She studied his expression and decided she believed him.
“Kereny, there’s a time differential between Quondam and the mortal realm, which buys us some breathing room, but the warlocks will mount an attack here soon.” He scanned the area, a soldier on alert, before he faced her again. “They’ll try to capture you to get back at me. Jels vowed as much when Ormlo died.”
“Ormlo is dead?” Good riddance.
“Aye, and Jels will stop at nothing to avenge his son. He’s an archwarlock, their leader.”
She’d caught a look at Jels after he’d fired on her, had recognized pure evil. Exactly the kind of immortal I’m sworn to fight. “Then what is your plan? Are we meeting up with your pack?” A sentence she never thought she’d utter. But she needed numbers to challenge a force of warlocks, and she couldn’t simply sound an alarm and have dozens of hunters appear.
“We canna go to Glenrial, our Louisiana settlement, no’ yet. We have sentries on the wall, but the warlocks would just vassal them, using our own people against us. I’m taking you to Loa’s Emporium, a Lore shop. Loa is a friend and a valuable resource. She can help us.”
Ren turned from him and surveyed an unfamiliar town in an unfamiliar time. She was as good as exiled—all of her connections broken by decades.