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The heartbeat in the watch died. The wolf was finally free from his ungodly agony.
His soul rose from his remains, sparkling brightly in the evening sunshine. Though it held even less substance than a ghost, it was obvious they’d hunted and killed a young man, not an old one—but why? What had this wolf done to deserve such a fate?
His soul didn’t stop, didn’t pause, which meant this brutal death had been his destiny. Otherwise, he would have been bound to this place—to this dam—for eternity.
I briefly closed my eyes against the sting of tears that were a combination of both anger and relief, and sent a prayer after him, wishing him a longer life and cleaner death the next time.
“He’s dead,” I said, the minute Aiden got off the phone
.
“Which is not surprising, considering what’s been done.”
I rubbed my arms. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”
“Not on this reservation.”
I glanced at him sharply. “But it has happened on other reservations?”
“Not in Victoria, and certainly not for a while.” He flicked his phone’s camera on and began recording. “About ten years ago there was a series of murders across five reservations—the two in Western Australia, one of the two reservations in Queensland, and those in South Australia and Northern Territory.”
“How many deaths in all?”
“Twenty-one. Those behind the atrocity were never caught.”
“So we could be dealing with the same people.”
“Or a copycat.” He moved to the other side. “I’ll have to request the reports from that period to see if there are any similarities.”
“But why on earth would anyone want to skin a werewolf?”
“For the same reason hunters hunt and skin other animals but don’t take the meat—for their pelts.”
I stared at him, unable to believe such a thing was even possible. “But werewolves aren’t animals. They’re human.”
Or rather, a branch of humanity that had, over time, evolved specific DNA adaptions that allowed them to shift effortlessly from one form to another. No one really understood why it had happened, despite the fact that science had been studying werewolf DNA for decades.
“That wasn’t always the case, remember,” he replied, tone grim. “For a long time we were considered an unholy evil delivered straight from the gates of hell itself. In fact, throughout most of the Middle Ages and even some of the early modern period, there were just as many specialized werewolf eradicators as there were vampire.”
“The witch population didn’t exactly have a free and easy time of it throughout that period of history, either, but that hasn’t been the case for centuries now.”
“No, but the pelt industry still lives. It’s just gone unground.”
Horror shivered through me. “So you think this could be the first of many more deaths?”
“I hope not. Is it safe to approach the body?”
I hesitated, testing the air with my “other” senses. “There are still faint wisps of magic coming from the victim’s body.”
His gaze sharpened on mine. “Meaning this could be connected with the shooting victim?”
I hesitated. “Belle asked the same thing, but the two magics feel very different. I think it more likely that this is another example of just how big a draw the unprotected wellspring is to those who follow darker paths.”
“If we are dealing with pelt hunters, they’re likely to be human.”
“Which only means they’re not here for the magic itself but doesn’t discount the fact that the unprotected wellspring nevertheless drew them here, even if they have no idea why.” I swept my gaze across the body again. “I suspect the magic is coming from the silver needle that’s stuck in his flank, but I’d need to get closer to be sure.”
“Are you able to?” There was sympathy in his voice but also determination. This was the ranger rather than the lover speaking, and the ranger didn’t want to wait for Ashworth and the other witches to arrive if he could at all help it.
