Werewolves of Shade (Part Five) (Beautiful Immortals Series Book 5) Read online

  Werewolves of Shade

  (Beautiful Immortals Series)

  Part Five

  BY

  Tim O’Rourke

  First Edition Published by Ravenwoodgreys

  Copyright 2015 by Tim O’Rourke

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Story Editor

  Lynda O’Rourke

  Book cover designed by:

  Tom O’Rourke

  Copyedited by:

  Carolyn M. Pinard

  www.cjpinard.com

  For Patrick

  More books by Tim O’Rourke

  Kiera Hudson Series One

  Vampire Shift (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 1

  Vampire Wake (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 2

  Vampire Hunt (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 3

  Vampire Breed (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 4

  Wolf House (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 5

  Vampire Hollows (Kiera Hudson Series 1) Book 6

  Kiera Hudson Series Two

  Dead Flesh (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 1

  Dead Night (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 2

  Dead Angels (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 3

  Dead Statues (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 4

  Dead Seth (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 5

  Dead Wolf (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 6

  Dead Water (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 7

  Dead Push (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 8

  Dead Lost (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 9

  Dead End (Kiera Hudson Series 2) Book 10

  Kiera Hudson Series Three

  The Creeping Men (Kiera Hudson Series Three) Book 1

  The Lethal Infected (Kiera Hudson Series Three) Book 2

  The Adoring Artist (Kiera Hudson Series Three) Book 3

  The Secret Identity (Kiera Hudson Series Three) Book 4

  Werewolves of Shade

  Werewolves of Shade (Part One)

  Werewolves of Shade (Part Two)

  Werewolves of Shade (Part Three)

  Werewolves of Shade (Part Four)

  Werewolves of Shade (Part Five)

  Werewolves of Shade (Part Six)

  Moon Trilogy

  Moonlight (Moon Trilogy) Book 1

  Moonbeam (Moon Trilogy) Book 2

  Moonshine (Moon Trilogy) Book 3

  The Jack Seth Novellas

  Hollow Pit (Book One)

  Seeking Cara (Book Two) Coming Soon!

  Black Hill Farm (Books 1 & 2)

  Black Hill Farm (Book 1)

  Black Hill Farm: Andy’s Diary (Book 2)

  Sydney Hart Novels

  Witch (A Sydney Hart Novel) Book 1

  Yellow (A Sydney Hart Novel) Book 2

  The Doorways Saga

  Doorways (Doorways Saga Book 1)

  The League of Doorways (Doorways Saga Book 2)

  The Queen of Doorways (Doorways Saga Book 3)

  The Tessa Dark Trilogy

  Stilts (Book 1)

  Zip (Book 2)

  The Mechanic

  The Mechanic

  The Dark Side of Nightfall

  Book One

  Unscathed

  Written by Tim O’Rourke & C.J. Pinard

  You can contact Tim O’Rourke at

  www.kierahudson.com or by email at [email protected]

  Werewolves of Shade

  (Part Five)

  This story is set in a where and when not too dissimilar to our own…

  Chapter One

  Was that the sound of gunfire I could hear? I glanced up from the grave where the dead wolf lay and looked toward the wooded area on the opposite side of the graveyard. Rain came down in thick sheets all around me and the night sky fizzled with lightning. Screwing up my eyes, I stared into the darkness. The sound came again in three rapid bursts. Was it thunder I could hear? The sky rumbled overhead. The slithers of black between the gnarled trunks of the nearby trees lit up in strobes of white. Was that the flash of gunfire or lightning strikes from above? If it was gunfire, that meant there was someone in the woods. Rush? Rea? Calix perhaps? What would any of them do or think if they found me knee-deep in Annabel’s open grave? But it wasn’t Annabel’s grave. It wasn’t the body of a small child that I had unearthed. It was a dead wolf. The creature lay in the sodden mud, eyes closed, grey tongue lolling from the corner of its jaws. Two rusty nails protruded from its front paws. Again, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the two skeletons that Flint and I had come across hidden in that remote shack on the outskirts of Maze. Why had nails been driven into their hands? Had they been wolves? If so, had Annabel been one, too? No! Impossible! She had just been an innocent child.

  The sudden sound of an ear-splitting scream tore through the night. It came from the direction of the wood. I looked back. Another scream. Or was it the cry of the wind? The night lit up again, showering the driving rain with sparks of white light. The thunder boomed – or was it gunfire? With my heart wedged in my throat and shivering with cold and fear, I began to claw at the mud. With rain running from my matted hair and into my eyes, I hurriedly filled in the grave. Never before had I wanted to run and not look back. I had tried to be strong. I had tried to be brave. But I didn’t know how much more torment I could put up with in Shade. Because that’s what it was. Torment – plain and simple. Mud oozed between my filthy fingers and beneath my nails as I raked the mud back into the grave. I wanted to be far away from it, from the wolf and from Shade. Every one of my senses screamed that I was in danger. Whatever was happening in Shade was a living and breathing nightmare. It was a nightmare I was desperate to wake from.

  With the last of the mud filling in the grave, I clambered to my feet. I slipped on the wet earth as the night sky sparked with ferocious streaks of lightning. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath my boots as a series of thunderclaps – gunfire – crashed all around me. In the flashes of light, I saw the posy of Wolf Bane at my feet. I reached for it, some of its small withered blue petals scattering to the wind. And as I closed my fist around the stems, I saw the same flower buried in the mound of earth that had been piled at the feet of those skeletons hidden in the shack. Those flowers had been dead too – until a few drops of my blood had leaked from a scratch on my hand and seemed to bring them back to life again. How had that happened? Why had it happened? And would it happen again? With the sudden and thunderous sound of gunfire coming from the wooded area again, I crouched low as rain beat off my shoulders and back. I placed the posy of dead Wolf Bane back onto the grave. Snatching up a jagged piece of stone from the earth, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, drawing it over the palm of my hand. I felt the warm tingle of blood as it seeped from the small cut I had made. Looking back over my shoulder to make sure that I was still alone, I clenched my fist tight. Holding it over the flower, I squeezed a few drops of blood from between my fingers. With my teeth shut tight against the flash of pain, I watched the black drops of blood spatter the flower. Arming rain from my eyes, I
peered down at the posy. To my sheer amazement and wonder, the tiny blue petals began to flower once more.

  “What the fu…” I started to whisper before hearing another sound behind me. This time it wasn’t thunder, gunfire, a scream, or even the howl of the wind I could hear, but what sounded like someone stomping through the thick mud that now covered much of the graveyard. I glanced back over my shoulder, but could see no one amongst the broken and tilted gravestones. Springing to my feet, I darted between them.

  The spade! I couldn’t forget the spade. Should it be discovered by the grave then Augustus Morten or one of the others might suspect that someone – me – had dug up Annabel’s grave. Turning back, I snatched it up from where it lay in the mud. I couldn’t help but notice how the posy of Wolf Bane now looked in full bloom. I winced as I gripped the handle of the spade with my cut hand. Gritting my teeth, I stooped low in the dark and headed back across the graveyard and toward the church. The spire towered high above me, its black slate tiles slick with rain. I snuck around the side of the church and toward the small room set into the side of it. Yanking open the door, I placed the spade back where I had found it. With my heart thumping in time with the pounding rain, I headed back around the side of the church and set off in the direction of the gate that would lead me out of the graveyard.

  The sound of gunfire broke through the night once more followed by a gut-wrenching scream of terror. Stifling the urge to cry out myself, I dared to glance back once more. I screwed up my eyes, peering back into the darkness, desperate to know…

  “What are you doing out here?” I heard someone rasp, two bony hands gripping my arms.

  Unable to fight the urge to scream any longer, I cried out, spinning around and facing front. I stared up into Morten’s wizened face as he peered at me from beneath the rim of his black bowler hat. The streaks of lightning that cut across the night sky did nothing to brighten his cloudy and intense stare. His eyes were bone white, the pupils hidden behind thick cataracts.

  “It’s not safe out here,” he said, voice sounding scratchy and broken.

  A thunderous roar came from the direction of the wood. My heart raced so fast now that I thought it might just explode from my chest. Despite my best efforts, Morten had caught me in the graveyard. What possible reason could I give for being out here on such a foul night? My mind scrambled for any excuse. The night rocked again with the sound of thunder. The gunfire! I could say it was the sound of that which had drawn me from my home.

  “Is that gunfire?” I gasped, rain lining my face in freezing cold streaks. I trembled before him – a mixture of fear and coldness.

  “Run, Mila. Run!” Morten whispered, his lips just an inch from my ear.

  I balked at the sudden stench of decay that wafted from his breath. It was cold against the flesh that covered my neck. With his milky-white eyes watching me, Morten stood tall and emaciated-looking in his frayed black suit in the rain. I staggered away from him. The heel of my boot struck the corner of a grave and I stumbled backwards and once more down into the mud. I rolled onto my front in an attempt to lift myself from the near quagmire I now found myself in. I reached for one of the gravestones that stood before me. In a sudden burst of lightning, I saw the name of the person buried beneath me stencilled across the headstone. But it wasn’t the name that held me rigid in the mud, but the age of the deceased. Six years was engraved in the grey stone. There was another grave close by. Beneath the name was written, seven years. On the one next to this was stencilled, five years. Why had so many children died in Shade?

  “Run, Mila!” I heard Morten cry out over another deafening roar of thunder or gunfire.

  Pulling myself up, I looked back at the gravedigger.

  Without giving another warning, Morten turned, and with his narrow shoulders sloped forward, he headed slowly through the storm and back toward the church.

  Soaked through with rain and caked with mud, I seized my chance to flee the graveyard just like Morten had warned me to.

  Chapter Two

  Shoving open the gate, I lurched through the gap in the wall and stumbled out onto the narrow track that twisted its way back toward the village. With my boots sloshing through the warren of puddles that covered the track, I raced back toward the house where I now lived in Shade. But did I really live there? It wasn’t my home. It had once belonged to Julia Miller, the previous school teacher. It was her home – not mine. I didn’t have to stay there – I didn’t have to stay in Shade. Twice since arriving in Shade I had considered leaving, and those same thoughts were back – but stronger than before. With every passing moment I stayed in Shade another reason presented itself to finally convince me to leave. Finding a dead wolf in the grave of a young girl that the villagers blamed me for failing to protect was really the last straw. Why would the villagers have buried a wolf in Annabel’s grave? The very idea seemed perverse and sick. It made no sense. I resented the fact that they could do such a thing, and yet blame me for the child’s death. Were they trying to deliberately freak me out – to scare me out of Shade? But if that were true, how could any of them possibly have known that I would’ve dug up Annabel’s grave? Doing such a thing would have seemed abhorrent to me only days ago. There had to be another reason why they would have done such a thing. But what? I had no idea. Was it some kind of ancient ritual that these people undertook? Some kind of freakish custom? I didn’t know, and as I raced back across the park toward the tiny cottage, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to find out. The rational side of me was shouting to get what little belongings I had brought with me and get out of Shade. With the gun slapping against my thigh, I raced through the rain and up the garden path to the front door. Taking the key from my pocket, I opened the door and stepped inside. With my back pressed against the closed door, and chest rising and falling as I caught my breath, I felt along the wall for the light switch. I pressed it. Nothing. The lights were still out. With rain water dripping from the ends of my hair, chin, and the sleeves of my hoodie, I felt my way along the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. The coals that glowed red in the bottom of the stove offered me enough light to see the candle and the box of matches where I had left them on the table.

  Striking a match, it flared up before my eyes, illuminating my surroundings in a sudden burst of light. My hand wavered as I moved the match toward the candle. Over the howl of the wind and rain battering the kitchen window, I could hear the sound of my own laboured breathing. Taking the candle, I headed upstairs to my room. Bending at the knees, I pulled my rucksack from beneath the bed and began to stuff into it the clothes I had brought with me to Shade. I had made up my mind. I was getting out of Shade. But even as I ran about the room, gathering together my belongings, I knew in my heart that if I left, I would never find out what had happened to Annabel. I would never find out what really had happened to the people who had vanished from Shade – but more importantly, I would never find out the truth about my own parents’ disappearance and the young witch they had come looking for. And what about the relationships I had started to form in Shade? My new friends? Rush, Rea, and Calix? But were any of them true friends? I didn’t really know any of them. They didn’t really know me. I knew enough to know that they were keeping secrets from me. But wasn’t I keeping secrets, too? I had yet to tell them why I had really come to Shade and what it was I was looking for. And why was I so scared of telling them the truth? What did I have to hide? I had initially lied because I had been surprised to find anyone living in Shade. My uncle had told me that everyone here had vanished. Had my initial fear been that Rea, Rush, and Calix would have suspected me to be some kind of spy? Some kind of danger to them? They had treated me as such as they had first searched my belongings and interrogated me about who I was and where I’d come from. But despite their initial suspicions, they had let me stay. They had given me a place to live and entrusted me to teach the children of Shade. And yet, even though they had done all of that for me, it was obvious that they were keeping secrets. W
hy show my hand to them if they weren’t prepared to show me theirs? Wasn’t my true fear that perhaps the villagers of Shade were responsible for the disappearance of the villagers that had once lived here? If they suspected I had come to investigate that, then I might too disappear along with the others – along with my parents.

  “Shit!” I cried out, tossing my rucksack across the room at the wall. The frustration I felt was overwhelming. I knew that I couldn’t leave Shade, however much I knew I should. How could I leave without the answers I had come in search of? The answers to my questions were too big to ignore. They were too important to me. Would I ever really be able to rest if I never found out what had happened to my parents? Would I really be able to go back to Maze and slip so easily back into my happy life? But had my life in Maze been so happy? If it had been, would I have been so willing to leave in the first place? I had my uncle and Flint there – but was either of them enough? I loved my uncle like a father – he had been good to me. I loved Flint too – but I doubted I was in love with him. There was a difference. I knew that now. Being kissed by Rush had convinced me of that. But something else had convinced me more. It was something that I didn’t want to recognise or even admit to – but being held by Calix as he had taught me to shoot had made me feel… feel what, exactly? I couldn’t be sure – but I had felt something that I hadn’t felt before. Was it the feeling of danger? Excitement? Wasn’t the truth that I had felt a secret and forbidden thrill at reaching out for something or someone I knew was bad for me? Wasn’t that the true reason that I couldn’t turn my back on Shade? For the first time in my life I was having an adventure of my own – just like the adventures my uncle took when he left Maze in search of stories for his newspaper. Hadn’t I always secretly been a little resentful and jealous that he got to leave Maze and experience all the places that he wrote so much about? And what if I had come to Shade only to find it deserted like my uncle had believed it to be? How much of an adventure would that have been? Wasn’t there a small part of me that was secretly glad that Shade and the people living in it were a complete and utter mystery to me? Wasn’t there some remote part of me that really relished that I had something to investigate – have my own story to tell when I finally left Shade and headed home back to my uncle and Flint?