Chapter 82 The Scent of Old Blood
Grayson POV
The air in the shipyard was thick with the smell of rotting wood and the metallic tang of old magic that seemed to cling to the rusted hulls of the ships, and as I dragged my feet through the slick mud, I could feel the silver poisoning reaching for my lungs. My skin was a pale, sickly color and the veins in my arms were standing out like jagged grey ropes, so I had to lean against a stack of shipping containers just to keep my knees from buckling while I followed the faint scent of cinnamon that was almost lost in the stench of the fog. I knew I was being watched from the shadows of the cranes, but I didn't have the strength to shift or even to growl, so I just kept my hand on the silver-tipped dagger at my belt and hoped that the legends about the Exiles were at least half true.
"You're a long way from your clubhouse, Alpha, and you look like you're about one step away from falling into the dirt and letting the crows finish the job," a voice croaked from the top of a rusted tanker, and before I could even look up, three men dropped down into the mud in front of me with their teeth bared and their eyes glowing with a feral, yellow light.
They weren't like the riders in my pack who wore leather and carried handguns, because these men were dressed in rags and their skin was covered in primitive scars, and they looked at me like I was nothing more than a piece of meat that had wandered into their kitchen by mistake. I tried to stand up straight and project some kind of authority, but a wave of nausea hit me so hard that I had to catch myself on a rusted pylon, and the lead guard let out a harsh, barking laugh that made my blood run cold.
"I’m here to see Hecate, and I’m not looking for a fight with a bunch of scavengers who have forgotten what it means to be part of a pack," I said, and my voice sounded like I had swallowed a handful of glass, but I didn't back down as the men started to circle me in the gloom.
"Hecate doesn't see people who are already dead, and by the look of those grey veins, you've got about an hour of life left in you before the silver hits your heart and turns it into a stone," the guard replied, and he pulled a long, jagged bone-knife from his belt while his companions began to growl in a way that told me they were barely holding back their animal side. "If you want to pass through the gate, you have to prove that there's still a spark of the wolf in that rotting body, so you can put down your pride and fight us like a man, or you can die right here in the mud."
"I don't need to shift to put you in the dirt, so why don't you come over here and find out how much a Nightfang Alpha can handle even when he's poisoned," I challenged, and I pulled my silver-tipped dagger from its sheath, feeling the weight of the metal in my hand while the world started to tilt and sway around me.
The first guard lunged forward with a snarl, and I had to use every bit of my military training to sidestep the blow because my reflexes were sluggish and my muscles were screaming in protest. I caught his wrist and twisted it until I heard the bone snap, and then I used his own momentum to shove him into the second attacker, but the effort sent a jolt of pain through my chest that made me cough up a spray of dark blood. I didn't stop to breathe, because the third man was already on me, and I had to take a punch to the ribs just to get close enough to drive the butt of my knife into his temple.
"Enough of this pointless brawling, because the Alpha has proven that his stubbornness is even stronger than the poison in his blood," a woman’s voice called out from the darkness of a nearby warehouse, and the guards immediately backed away and lowered their heads in a sign of respect that they never would have shown to me.
Hecate walked out into the flickering light of a nearby torch, and she looked exactly like the stories said—old, brittle, and yet somehow more dangerous than any of the feral wolves she commanded. She looked at my chest and then at my face, and she signaled for the guards to let me pass, though they kept their eyes on me as I stumbled toward the entrance of the shipyard’s main office.
"You’re a fool for coming here in this condition, Grayson Hart, and you’re an even bigger fool for thinking that finding her is going to be the end of your problems," she said, and she led me into a small room filled with the scent of dried herbs and old parchment.
"Where is she? I know she's here because I can feel her through the bond, and I'm not leaving without her even if I have to burn this whole yard to the ground," I told her, and I slumped into a wooden chair because my legs finally gave out on me.
"She is resting, but she isn't the girl you remember from the bakery, and you need to understand that your love is the very thing that the Syndicate used to trigger her 'Judgment' state," Hecate explained, and she began to grind some roots in a stone bowl, the sound of the friction filling the small room while I tried to process what she was saying. "The Silver-Black form responds to the emotional frequency of the mate, so every time your heart beats for her, the curse in your blood sends a signal that forces her wolf to grow more powerful and more distant from her humanity."
"So you're saying that by loving her, I'm the one who's turning her into a weapon for the Syndicate?" I asked, and the thought made me feel a sickness that was far worse than the silver poisoning because it meant that our bond was a trap we couldn't escape.
"Precisely, and the more you try to reach for her, the more she will pull away into the void because the wolf is trying to protect her from the pain of your infection," she said, and she handed me a cup of the bitter liquid she had been preparing. "The Syndicate knew that a Nightfang Alpha would never let his mate go, and they banked on your devotion to act as the catalyst for the final transformation of the Silver-Black Queen."
"I don't care about their rituals, and I'll find a way to break the curse without losing her," I argued, but my hand was shaking so much that I spilled half the liquid on my lap.
"There is only one way to break the cycle, and Aria already knows what it is, even if she hasn't found the strength to tell you yet," Hecate said, and she looked at me with a pity that made me want to hit her. "The scales must be balanced, Grayson, and as long as you are the anchor for the curse, she will never be free to be anything other than a monster."
I looked at the door at the back of the room, knowing she was just on the other side, and I wondered if she was listening to us or if she was already too far gone to care. I didn't want to believe that our love was the poison, but as I looked at my grey-veined hands, I knew that the old woman wasn't just talking in riddles to hear herself speak.
I stood up, gripping the edge of the table for support, because I had to see her one more time even if it meant the end of everything.