Blood War (Book 1, the Halfblood Chronicles)

8 | A Matter of Magic

Night had fallen, and without so much as a single light bulb inside the trailer, Luiza Lazarov could do nothing but stare at the ceiling. So that was exactly what she did.

It had been half a day since she'd spoken to the alpha. She'd already accepted the terms of his offer, but as he left her to wait, she couldn't help wondering if it had been a mistake.

Why was she here? When could she go home?

Outside the trailer, there were noises. Lu believed they were preparing to move. The whole wolf pack, it appeared, was mobile. And if she was constantly traveling, it would be that much harder for someone to find and rescue her. Hard, but not impossible.

Who would come for her?

Lu knew her best friend. Nika Dimitrovich would rip apart the world to get Lu back. The thought had her smiling.

But what about her mother and sister? She imagined they wouldn't be handling this very well. And then there was Elliot . . . He must have felt so alone.

She wished she could see him now, hold him, kiss him. She wished he could do the same for her. Anything to soothe the bitter edge of her fear, which was beginning to feel much more familiar than she was comfortable with.

Sighing, Lu rolled onto her side in the small bed.

She missed them. All of them.

And the moment those thoughts entered her mind, she felt tears sliding down her face.

She didn't know how long she'd been crying when, somewhere outside, chains ground against one another and metal clanged. The trailer jostled slightly. They must have been hitching it up to a vehicle.

Lu sat upright and leaned against the wall beneath a window, listening to the voices that passed. "You think Capello's plan will actually work?" said a female Volkari.

Her voice was young . . . mild. Not what Lu had expected from a mangy wolf.

"Who knows?" said an older man. "Alpha's a mad bastard, but I suppose insanity can be genius sometimes."

"He'll get half of us killed with this revenge mission."

"I'd rather die fighting than suffering from a damned curse."

Lu frowned. What were they talking about? The rattling of the chains grew louder, and their words went silent.

Then the woman said, "It gnaws at me each day—not being able to shift unless there's a full moon. And even then, we can run as wolves for only a few hours. It's miserable."

"And we're the lucky ones. My brother can't shift at all. And my little cousin died last year during her first transformation." His voice turned into a growl as he said, "I hate them. The Ministry and everyone else in that secret Daemonstri society. They can all burn in hell."

Lu grasped desperately at reason to make sense of the words. To no avail.

"Shhh," hissed the female. "Here comes the demon-witch."

Lu stiffened. Demon-witch?

The jostling of the door sent Lu whirling to her feet. Heart beating wildly, she watched. Waited. When a familiar figure entered the trailer bedroom, Lu gave a start. Even in the dimness of the evening light, she could see the visitor perfectly.

Bright red hair—unnaturally dyed, Lu was sure—and deathly pale skin. Keen blue eyes, plum-colored lips. It was the woman from that night. The one who'd grabbed her and stolen her away.

She wore an old-fashioned gown—like a Renaissance costume—which draped loosely around her slim, tall figure. And tucked inside the bust was a necklace, according to the chain around her neck.