Blood, Feather, and Bone: Storm Moon Shifters Book 4 (Paperback)

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One

If Maverick Hale was honest, this party was the last thing he had been expecting to attend with Domino Franklin on what would be a busy Saturday night at Storm Moon. However, when Calixta Darkholme, the Raven Queen, extended an invitation to a party at her London residence, it was rude to refuse.

“Bloody hell,” Domino said, as they stood on the drive, studying the house, “talk about dilapidated grandeur.”

The house was enormous. Palatial, even. Set back from the road on the rise of Highgate Hill between Hampstead Heath and Highgate Cemetery, it was surrounded by trees and bushes that crowded the house. The drive ended at an enormous set of wrought iron gates, and only a glimpse of the road was visible from the house. Essentially, it was the perfect place for a royal shifter residence. No doubt it would have been magnificent in its prime, but over the decades—perhaps centuries—it had been neglected. It wasn’t as old as Moonfell, though Maverick estimated it was probably built in the 1700s.

“She’s making a statement by throwing this party,” Maverick mused, gaze sweeping across the crumbling façade. “Announcing her presence. Despite the vast amount of work this place needs, it’s still impressive.”

“And it makes clear how long they have been here. If,” she said, hedging her bets, “the house has been in the family that long.”

“You doubt it has been?” Maverick pointed to where a line of stone ravens embellished the roof, and the reliefs set into the stonework. “No, I think this has been the seat of their family for years. And if this was just their occasional residence, then their European place must be even more impressive.”

“Which is where?” Domino asked, sharp eyes darting everywhere.

“She hasn’t said yet. Calixta likes her secrets.”

“She certainly likes to cultivate an air of mystery. I feel underdressed.”

“You look great,” he said, noting her black dress that fit her every curve and revealed a good portion of her long legs. “And besides, most people who will be here aren’t royalty. They’re just regular shifters like us wondering what the hell this is all about. I guess we should go in.” Maverick ran his finger under his collar, glad he hadn’t put on a tie, but relieved he’d at least worn a suit and shirt, hoping it meant he blended into the crowd—whatever it might entail.

As they drew nearer to the house, a flock of ravens burst out of the surrounding trees, blackening the sky as they swooped over them. Domino and Maverick pressed on regardless, and the ravens quickly dispersed, heading further into the grounds behind the house. A conspiracy of raven guards, perhaps? They certainly weren’t shifters. Maverick shook off his sense of unease, progressed up the steps to the front door, and rang the bell, which echoed through the house. Moments later, it swung open and they were welcomed into a large reception hall that was filled with flowers and candles, despite the fact that daylight still lingered on these long July evenings. An enormous, sweeping staircase ran to the upper floor that was draped in darkness, with only a little light entering through the grand windows at the top. The place felt oppressive, and Maverick’s wolf rose in anticipation.

The waiter, or maybe a butler, who was dressed in a formal black suit, offered them champagne from a laden tray, and before Maverick could form any other impressions, escorted them into a huge room with high ceilings and a dramatic fireplace that was filled with all manner of shifters.

“Maverick!” Calixta left a group of shifters who she’d been talking to and crossed to his side. “You finally made it.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek, touching either side in European fashion, and then greeted Domino. “Welcome. You both look wonderful. I half wondered if you might not come.” Her lips pursed as if she would tell them off. “You’re not so fashionably late.”

Maverick smiled. “I like to make an entrance.”

“Don’t you just.” Her eyes swept down him. “Who knew you’d scrub up so well? You, of course, look gorgeous, Domino. Just as I expected. Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank you for the invite,” Domino said. “We weren’t sure what to expect, if I’m honest.”

Calixta shrugged. “It’s just a party. I wanted to get to know the more prominent shifters in our community better.”

“Has everyone else been restricted to two per invitation?” Maverick asked, trying to see if he recognised anyone else in the room.

“Yes, for today. I might throw a bigger party in the future. This is more intimate. It suits my purposes better.”

“And those purposes are?”

Calixta’s smile spread. “You are so suspicious, Wolf. I just wanted to get shifters together.”

“This house,” Domino said, gesturing with her free hand, her other still holding her glass of champagne, “has been in your family for years?”

“Since the eighteenth century. It’s called Ravenscroft, and was built specifically to my ancestor’s desires. Unfortunately, as I’m sure you can see, it needs a lot of work done. This room was one of the first we did. Took months.” She sipped her champagne as she studied the room. “Once we fixed the leaking roof and the plumbing and electrics. All the boring but very necessary repairs. Now it’s time for the fun stuff.” Her dark eyes flashed with pleasure as she admired the room, and a gleam of gold kindled deep within them.

“I can’t believe your family abandoned it,” Maverick said, sure there was a story behind it.

“It fell out of fashion. That’s all. Now I am determined to put it right. Along with that,” she pointed to the long run of doors that led out to a stone-flagged terrace, all thrown open to let in the summer breeze. “The garden is a tangled wilderness that will soon be tamed. Well, a little. I enjoy a certain wildness. It is the shifter way, after all. Now, I must circulate, so please drink, chat, and enjoy yourselves.”

“She has an agenda,” Maverick said, watching her walk away. Like Domino, the Raven Queen wore a black dress, but the back was low and the dress was calf-length with an enormous split to the thigh. He dragged his gaze away, instead studying the room as they made their way further in.

“Of course she has an agenda,” Domino said. “Did you ever think otherwise?”

“Not really.”

The room was opulent, with gilded panels and elaborate cornices, and it was obvious that Calixta was keen to keep the authenticity of the building. She probably had no choice, as this was likely a listed building. Old oil paintings graced the walls, and everything was of a high quality, including the immaculately dressed waiters who circulated with drinks and trays of canapes. As for the guests, they were a mix of different shifters who had all tried to dress as smartly as they could, and most of whom looked uncomfortable in clothes and a setting that was far from their usual habits. However, it didn’t really matter what they wore, as it didn’t disguise the paranormal power that resonated around the space, and the guests eyed each other warily, seeking comfort with members of their own kind.

“Can you see anyone else we know?” he asked Domino.

“Alaric is over by the window with a small group of bird and bear-shifters.” Alaric was the gryphon vulture bird-shifter who had accompanied them on the hunt for the shifter-stealing creature a few weeks earlier. “It’s not often you see bear-shifters in London. I just wish I knew what this was about. It’s really not just a party.”

“It smacks of politics to me, and you know how much I hate that.” He turned to the terrace where a few other groups gathered, and spotted the alpha of the North London Pack. “Castor is here. That surprises me. The last thing I’d heard was that Calixta didn’t like the way he worked.”

Domino laughed. “Better to include him, I think. Besides, he’s been better since that wanker Hammer has gone. Our pack relations have improved, too.”

Maverick slid her a sideways glance. “Improved might be a stretch, but at least we’re not fighting. Plus, I don’t have to start worrying about a new alpha.”

“Better the devil you know, right?”

“Exactly. Besides, I don’t want our pack to get too close to theirs. They’re all still dodgy as fuck. May as well say hello, though.”

Maverick led the way to the terrace, the crowd parting as they instinctively recognised an alpha wolf, responding to his strength and power as an apex predator. Maverick was so used to it now that he barely questioned it. In turn, he recognised a few other powerful shifters, leaders of their own packs and clans, and he estimated there were roughly forty to fifty shifters present of a variety of ages. The murmur of conversation was masked by orchestral music playing in the background. Something baroque, and suitably in keeping for a sort of royal gathering. Was this what qualified as Calixta’s court? The whole place had a palatial quality.

“Recognise anyone else?” Domino asked.

“There are a few familiar faces, but none I could put a name to.”

She raised a hand in greeting as she nodded at a striking black woman. “Tyra is over on the far side of the room. I’ll go and speak to her. Catch you later.”

Tyra, a Eurasian owl, was the other bird-shifter who had helped them fight the creature who had stolen many shifter powers a few weeks earlier, including Maverick’s wolf, so he wasn’t surprised to see that she was also at the party. She and Alaric were clearly close to Calixta, and Domino was right to cultivate friendships with Calixta’s most prominent clan members.

When he reached Castor’s side, Maverick noted that he also had a glass of champagne, as did Danny, the new pack second, and both looked extremely out of place in the sophisticated setting. Castor had made a good choice by promoting Danny. He was level-headed and loyal, and had made good on his promise to Maverick to allow Castor to heal before any challenges were made to his alpha status.

Castor acknowledged Maverick with a nod, and shook his hand firmly. “So, she dragged you here, too. You’re alone?”

“With Domino, who’s inside. And I wouldn’t say dragged,” Maverick said, after he greeted Danny. “Aren’t you curious as to what this is all about?”

“Curious and worried. There have been enough surprises this year.”

Castor had regained some of the weight he’d lost after his terrible fight with Hammer that had almost killed him. His physique was lean and muscular, and his visible scars attested to his many fights. Maverick knew there were plenty more scars under his shirt that would mark him forever. Castor’s restless gaze roamed across the room, assessing, watching, and weighing who was friend and foe. Suddenly, Maverick understood why he’d positioned himself in the garden, facing the crowd.

“How’s the pack now after all that business?”

Danny laughed. “A shitshow. We banned a few more wolves, and we’re smaller than we’ve been for years. It was like cutting away a cancerous growth. We’re lean, but tighter. Not without a few fights, of course.”

“More than a few,” Castor corrected. “Fortunately, the loyal members of the pack rooted out most of the offenders, and by the time I’d recovered, I faced very little opposition. Especially with Hammer dead. Axel has gone, too.”

Maverick remembered Axel only too well. He was vicious and sexist, and seeing Odette silence him with a spell had been an unexpected pleasure.

“Plus,” Danny explained, “the fight in the Hall of the Wey Wolf served to reinforce our bonds.” He smirked. “Now that was fun!”

“It’s certainly one word for it,” Maverick acknowledged. “I’ve heard rumours there might be a new pack setting up, though. Is it true?”

“Nothing concrete,” Castor said, exchanging a quick glance with his second. “But I suspect that the ones who left us will band together. Maybe even with the wolves who were taken over by the shadow warriors. As to where they might base themselves, though, I have no idea. None of them are here tonight. Yet.”

Another London pack would add complications, but as long as they kept to their own territory, that would be fine. Maverick had been hearing such rumours for weeks, but no doubt some wolves were laying low after the huge fight in the Wey Wolf’s hall, navigating changing pack loyalties. Maybe he should speak to Maggie Milne, the DI. She might know something.

“Until they are official,” Maverick suggested, “I doubt Calixta would acknowledge them. Or perhaps still not if they are too small. I guess it depends on what tonight is all about.”

Castor’s hard eyes landed squarely on Maverick’s. “If this is a social gathering, then this event is fine, but anything else would be offensive to our authority, don’t you think?”

“I barely know her, but she strikes me as being extremely clever and politically savvy.” Maverick considered their conversation at Moonfell after they had defeated the odd creature that had stolen his wolf. “She wants authority over her own kind, not us.” Maverick bristled at the thought of her challenging his own role and position in the London paranormal world. That would not end well.

Murmurs spread through the guests as waiters circulated, and everyone started making their way back into the grand salon. Calixta was waiting for them at the front of the room, eyes bright, her demeanour calm, as everyone gathered around. Her tanned skin glowed with health and vitality, and her long, glossy hair was loose across her shoulders, stirring a desire in him that he quickly subdued.

“Welcome everyone,” she finally said as the crowd settled. Her voice carried clearly as her gaze roved over everyone. “It’s a pleasure to host you here at my ancestral residence on what I know is a busy Saturday night for all of you. Thank you for joining us. I’m sure you’re wondering what this is all about, and I want to reassure you that tonight is nothing to be alarmed about. We are in a unique and privileged position that I don’t think we properly acknowledge, certainly not collectively, but I think that’s something that needs stating. Something to be remembered by us, more than anyone. We are the paranormal heart of London.”

She paused to let her statement sink in. “Yes, us. In fact, particularly us, because if you’re here tonight, then I see you as someone who holds great sway in their own community. You are all in one way or another the powerful heads of your pack or clan, or even your own family. You influence decisions, and work to hold the peace in what is undeniably a dangerous world.”

Calixta stopped for a moment, as if just remembering something. “I’m not including witches when I speak of this. While we work with them, they are not shifters. This meeting is about us. Our world, like all communities, has its own politics. I do not seek to change those or undermine them. But I think we should acknowledge each other more. Get to know each other better. A few weeks ago, we were under threat from a strange creature that stole our powers. A few of us,” her eyes rested on Maverick briefly before moving on, “worked together to destroy that threat. In the future, however, should such a thing happen again, it would be helpful to have more of us to turn to for support. A network.”

A few nods and murmurs spread across the crowd in obvious agreement, but some looked unsure, and one man who stood towards the front, taller than most and older, with an air of authority, spoke up. “That’s all very well, Calixta, but what is your role in it? You have just arrived in London with your so-called court. What do you seek here?”

“Lord Wentworth, thank you for coming. I know that you more than anyone has had to travel very far to be here today. First,” she said, voice smooth as she fixed him with her predatory stare, “it is no ‘so-called court.’ That you call it so is demeaning, and I certainly do not insult your own hereditary peerage or royal connections. I am the Raven Queen, and as such this is my royal home in London, as it has been for my ancestors for years. I also have a castle in Europe, which probably fits your view of what I should live in more than this. As for my court, it is made of those who show loyalty to me and wish to modernise our ways. Some of them are descended from families that served my ancestors, and are already powerful in their own right. That is all you need to know. As for what I seek here?”

She lifted her gaze to take in everyone. “I want to be a part of this community. To gain allies and find ways to work together. Certainly, the bird clans are fragmented, and I seek to unite us. That is all. This gathering is to get to know you, and for you to know me and my court, especially seeing as I shall be in London more than in Europe for the foreseeable future. I hope that this will be the start of many regular gatherings.”

“Whereabouts in Europe are you from?” Wentworth asked. “Is it a secret?” There was an edge of malice to his voice.

“Romania. Transylvania, to be precise. An ancient land with a tumultuous history. My own family’s not least amongst it.” She turned away from him in dismissal, and then held her hands out, one still clasping her half-drunk champagne glass, as if to embrace the room. “Let us toast to each other—our differences, as well as our similarities. I aim to get to know all of you much better in the future, if you will indulge me.” She raised her glass, and the room responded in kind, the chinking of glass and murmurs filling the room as they all turned to their neighbours. She concluded, “Please enjoy yourself this evening. We have plenty more canapes and drinks coming around. Thank you all.”

Maverick turned to Castor. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Not on the surface, no. But do you trust her?”

“I have no reason not to.” Maverick watched her thread through the room, caught up in conversations immediately as the guests vied for her attention. “She might even have a point. We do operate separately, and I barely know the other shifter communities. We’re not rivals in business, so what’s the harm?”

“You know me, Maverick,” he said, dark eyes flashing, “I’m always looking for an angle.”

“Well, maybe there isn’t one. I presume, though, that quite a few here may think Calixta can offer them something. Just being associated with the Raven Queen carries weight.”

“How big is her court, though?” Castor asked, ever sceptical. “How big a deal is she, really? She could be a bloody con-woman, for all we know.”

Maverick shook his head, doubting that. In fact, if anything, he thought Calixta might be downplaying her influence and power. “I guess it will make the coming few months interesting. Who is Lord Wentworth, other than being a therian? He strikes me as being highly untrustworthy. Maybe even more than you.” Maverick smirked at Castor.

“Funny. I don’t know him. I don’t associate with toffs.”

“I feel I know the name,” Maverick said, seeking him out in the crowd. “I wonder if I’ve heard him mentioned before.”

He spotted the man easily. He wore a superior air that instantly irritated Maverick, and had obviously rankled Calixta, too. She had shot him down quickly. Not that it seemed to bother Wentworth too much. He had an overdressed older woman with him, who could have been his wife.

Maverick decided he should circulate as Calixta had suggested, and learn who everyone was. With champagne flowing, and now wine and beer, he noted, people were starting to relax. Plus, Maverick had his own agenda for the evening. Ever since Litha when he had found out that there had been shifters at Moonfell in the 1700s, he was determined to learn more about Magnus Blackwood. So far, their investigations had revealed little except that he had money and had left London for years before returning. However, with new connections here, he might discover more. Plus, of course, the tapestry map that hung on the wall in his flat still held his imagination. The safe houses, the potential dynasties…all warranted more investigation.

Presuming that Domino was still circulating, he turned to the woman next to him and introduced himself, discovering that she was called Blythe, and was the head of a small clan of tawny owls who used Richmond Park.

“Neighbours, then,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, yes. We’ve seen your pack come loping through, but we keep our distance.” She was an older woman who had large, pale brown eyes, and tawny hair with a slight curl that looked like it was longing to break free from the loose bun she had tied it up in.

“Why’s that?”

“The usual, really. We have nothing against your pack, but we prefer to keep to ourselves.”

“I’ve heard owls, of course, while we’ve been hunting, and scented shifters, but I must admit my ignorance in not knowing what type of owls they were. You were,” he corrected himself.

“We’re the only owl-shifters there, but there is a normal barn owl that passes through. A bear-shifter, too, on occasions. But Richmond is big, so a few of us use it, including the Cervini.” She smiled at his confusion, and added, “Deer-shifters. Again, just a small family group who utilise the northern part of the park.”

He nodded, having forgotten their old, traditional name. “We have scented them, and are happy to share with other shifters. Just not a wolf pack. What do you think of all this?” he asked, changing the subject. “Or Calixta? Her presence must affect you more than us.”

“While not wanting to give too much away of our politics, let’s say it’s been interesting.” Her hand flexed around her glass, and he saw it as a talon, plucking a mouse out of the grass.

“Do you accept her as your queen?”

She cocked her head to the side, sizing him up. “What do you know of our history?”

“Bugger all, but I’m very curious, for reasons relating to wolves and my own pack.”

“You’re a historian?”

“An amateur one. Recent events have piqued my curiosity.”

“The Wey Wolf?”

“You heard?”

She laughed, slightly incredulous that he should ask. “Everyone has.”

So much for Maggie trying to keep it quiet for a while. “Well, it’s not just that, but yes, old packs, dynasties, and royalty have become my new hobby.”

“Then let’s top up our drinks,” Blythe said, gesturing towards a passing waiter, “because it may take a while.”