Are you going to kiss me? Bron asked.
A sweet burn blushed up her cheeks. She leaned closer. Can I?
He turned his gaze onto her. His eyes were clear and true blue. Had he loved others who had fallen into wonder over his eyes in the brightness of morning?
Knowing what you now know about me, do you still want to?
That he was a werewolf. That hed kept that a secret because he hadnt thought shed need to know. (She could excuse him for that.) That he wanted her heart, literally, in his hand.
Damn her. Kizzy felt powerless as he leaned even closer. Inches away from contact, the heat of their breaths mingled. Yes, I do want to.
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually populate her stories. And if Michele followed the adage write what you know, all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.michelehauf.com.
Her Werewolf Hero
Michele Hauf
www.millsandboon.co.uk
This one is for Sam and Dean. Because why not dedicate a book to a couple of fictional hunters? Works for me. And their adventures inspired the cheesy hotels in this story. Fight the faeries!
(That has nothing to do with this story, but you all know. Right?)
Contents
Cover
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Extract
Copyright
Chapter 1
Go right in, Mr. Everhart. The pretty secretary with bright blue eyes gestured over her shoulder with a pen while typing on the keyboard with her other hand.
Bron nodded his thanks and stepped toward the scanner portal positioned before the Director of Acquisitions door. He paused on its springy metal threshold, felt the prick of its supernatural scanning mechanism throughout his nervous system and knew the data that showed on the directors monitor would report he was werewolf, approximately two centuries in age, and did not wear an Acquisitions-issued tracking chip.
He refused to be chipped like a dog. If he ever went missing, then tilt a glass to him at the local pub and warn Beneath he was on his way.
A stream of green light beaming from inside the metal scanner alerted him the scan was complete. Stepping forward activated a sliding steel door, and he entered a dimly lit office. The decor featured dark woods and rusted steel ceiling beams that lent a rustic atmosphere to the room. The director was a vampire, but really? Bron knew they could go out in the sunlight for short periods, and an overcast day generally did not cause them harm.
He wouldnt ask. He never did. He wasnt a curious man. He simply acted. Let the shrapnel fall where it will.
Ethan Pierce had an alarmingly bright smile and a scattering of silver within the short brown hair spiking from his scalp. Everhart! Just return from Romania?
Bron took a seat on the ultracomfortable leather chair before the directors desk and propped a combat-booted foot across his opposite knee. Two days returned and eager to put my hiking boots on again.
Excellent. Ive a new assignment for you.
The director slid a piece of paper toward Bron. As with most Acquisitions dossiers, it featured a small photograph or drawing of the item that required retrieval, and below that were listed details. This one featured what looked like a woodcut drawing of a human heart with a faintly hand-shaped mark across the muscle.
The Purgatory Heart, Ethan explained. The mission is find and seize. Ive sent the digital file to your phone, which includes a link to a related article found online. Im afraid thats all the printed research weve had time to gather, though Archives has provided us further details. Weve been gauging activity regarding the object for a few days. Theres chatter circulating about it, and while we cant pin the origin of that chatter, someone or thing very powerful wants it, judging by the universal vibrations that alerted us to the item.
Universal vibrations. Early in his career as a Retriever for Acquisitions, Bron had learned everything put out a sort of pulse or tone, whether it was animal, vegetable, mineral or man. And thanks to magic, those vibrations could be read, sometimes even tracked.
Since we dont have a location or ID on the thing, Ethan continued, it seemed right up your alley. You do like a good adventure.
Always.
Bron had already opened the file on his phone and tapped the link. He scanned over an article detailing a small museum in Prague. It displayed items that had been touched by souls from Purgatory. An open book featured a blackened handprint burned onto the pages. A rusted tin bucket showed a few fingerprints burned into the metal. A tattered hemp skirt again brandished a burnt handprint. Nothing about a heart, though.
Of course, had the heart been at the museum, the mission would not have been assigned to him. Simply stopping by and stealing an item displayed to the public was generally assigned to newer Retrievers. Not to those who viewed risk as their very lifeblood.
Purgatory exists? Bron wondered as he leaned back against the chair. It wasnt often he sathe craved movement, alwaysbut the cushy leather chairs in the directors office enticed him to relax and exhale. It was a rare feeling, and it sometimes made him uncomfortable.
Just thinking about relaxing made him sit up straight.
Yes, its closely related to Daemonia, the Place of All Demons, the director explained. Purgatory is the midpoint between good and evil. A balance, if you will. And there is a portal from Daemonia to Purgatory, but not vice versa. Though, I understand theres not a demon that would purposely make such a trip to Purgatory.
No demons eager to torture mortal souls? Sounds surprising.
There is torture, but it is a permanent and endless job. The demons youll find there are prisoners themselves. They are called Toll Gatherers; they test the purgatants. The director tapped the paper. The heart we want to secure and keep from nefarious hands has been gripped by a purgatorial soul and scarred with a handprint. You should recognize that when you find it.
Most certainly. What does this purgatorial heart do?
Most objects Bronany Retrieverwas sent to obtain were usually of a highly volatile and magical nature. If put into the wrong hands? Devastation could occur. Not to mention things like mortal deaths, plagues, zombies and even a Cereberus, if he recalled that bungled snatch correctly.
Unlike the passage from Daemonia, the heart opens a gateway into Purgatorythat goes both ways. Should Purgatory be breached by an unknown, there is the probability of souls breaking free. The balance between good and evil will be severely tilted toward evil. Its on the same lines as all hell breaking lose. Weve deemed the mission Necessary.
Necessary, but not Critical, as were the top-secret missions. And a find and seize, which was the usual Retriever assignment. Rarely was a mission labeled find and finish.
No known location? Bron asked. Where do I start?
The director opened his top drawer and pulled out a thin square piece of crystal and set it on top of the dossier. Compelled by the promise of new and interesting technology, Bron leaned forward.
A tracker, Ethan provided. Its the latest tech addition to our arsenal. Had Crafts and Hexes bespell it. Press it between your thumb and forefinger and say begin. Once its activated itll lead you right to the heart.
Siri will be jealous, Bron said as he took the small but surprisingly hefty piece of crystal. It was about the size of a one-euro piece, and he couldnt see through it despite its clear composition. He tucked it into his shirt pocket. Thats all he needed to get going. Just activate and follow, got it. He stood and nodded. Appreciate the work, Director.
Youre our top Retriever, Everhart. I always go to you first. Youve never let me down.
I dont intend to start.
One thing about the tracker. The witch who bespelled it said the heart was something different than our usual nabs. Picks up soul vibrations or some such. Once you activate the tracker? Itll lead you to the prize. But itll also send out vibrations that communicate with the heart. Anything or anyone who is interestedeven those who are not and just want to cause troublewill also feel the signal.
So itll be a race, Bron said, tapping his shirt pocket.
Yes. Go fully armed. Cant imagine what creatures would like to get their hands on the key to Purgatory.
Bron nodded. Always ready for some action. Thanks, boss.
* * *
Kizzy Lewis stepped through the dried grass that crunched underfoot along the ditch hugging Highway 2. To her right a faded plastic red ribbon fluttered in the breeze, and a bouquet of plastic geraniums that had been secured to a makeshift wooden cross offered a bright red spot along the stretch of summer-scorched country roadway.
Bright colors. Sad and terrifying memories.
This is where she and Keith had veered off the road on an icy January night. The yellow VW Bug Keith had been driving had soared over the concrete culvert and landed thirty feet below in the shallow stream that bisected two farmers potato fields. A mass of field stones and boulders had been piled up over the years, dug from the ground to prevent damage to farm equipment. The VW had hit the boulders grill first. Keith had flown over the steering wheel and through the windshield. Kizzy, wearing her seat belt, had been pinned inside the small vehicle.
Lifting her camera, which she wore around her neck on a leather strap, she exhaled and sniffed back the tears that had started the moment shed stepped onto the roadside. Aiming, she clicked snapshots of the boulders. Not a trace of the car remained, yet yellow paint scrapes still marked some of the rocks.
This return to the scene of the accident had felt necessary. A means to finally push that horrible night into the past and lock the door? More like revisit it to confirm her nightmares were real. Eight months had passed since that devastating evening when her emotions had gotten the better of her and shed spoken what she had been feeling for weeks. That their relationship was over. And shed wanted out.
Keith had taken it hard, as he always took any criticism or suggestion that went against his designs on the world. She hadnt realized how controlling he was until four months into their six-month relationship. Hed insisted she move in with him, so he would always know where she was.
The roads had been glare ice that January evening, following a rainstorm that had begun halfway home from a trip to the casino. Shed asked Keith to drive slower, to even pull over and wait it out. But he was not a man she could tell what to do.
He didnt deserve death, she whispered. But she couldnt quite bring herself to say something like because he was a good man.
Keith Munson had never raised a hand to her, though he had wielded his words cruelly. He hadnt known how to treat her the way she expected to be treated. So she forgave him for that. And she would not think ill of the dead.
Now the terror of that moment when the car had taken flight and soared off the road returned to her with thunderous, thumping heartbeats. The sound of her screams, muffled in her memory, resounded much louder now. She clutched her camera against those crazy heartbeats. Hopes to stand back and observe the scene as a bystander, to take pictures, perhaps even go over the photos in detail after shed processed them, had led her here.
And, yes, she sought closure. To take one final look, then walk away. And maybe the nightmares would stop.
She checked the view screen. In the past half hour, shed taken well over a hundred photos. Shed return to the apartment in Thief River Falls and look them over.