Hunters' Shadow (Book one of the Hunter Chronicles)

Chapter Forty One (Edited)

Avery did not allow him to flinch from the harsh reality of taking a life; coldly noting as they dumped the corpse next to a pile of firewood: “This kill will blur into the first of many. Your first duty, before all your wants and needs must be the safety of your pack. This” – Avery gestured to the lifeless rogue – “Is the price of that safety.”

Later, as the bodies burned on their funeral pyre, and Blake watched the last of his childhood fall away amid the rancid smell of cooking meat; Avery offered one last piece of advice.

“Born rogues are the most dangerous of them all. Never underestimate them. They've never known the restrictions of a pack. The madness doesn't touch them the same way. If you ever find yourself face to face with one...”

“What should I do, father?”

Avery looked him straight in the eye, his face as grave as Blake had ever seen it. “Kill them. Before they kill you.”

“They kept that one quiet!” His Beta's shocked exclamation pulled Blake's attention back to the bright hospital ward.

“No wonder,” snorted Alex over the swell of muttering that rolled around the room. “A rogue Alpha? It's unheard of.”

“Are you sure about this?” Blake asked darkly, gesturing for calm. It would explain a lot. Meagan’s sudden appearance. The mystery surrounding his past. The touch of feral Blake had detected in his mannerisms.

And his name, Rothan reminded him.

I didn't even think of that, Blake admitted.

When a werewolf turned rogue, they would ‘abandon’ their human names and choose to carry only the name of their wolf, instead. A symbolic way of casting off the shackles of pack-life and embracing the wolf within. Personally, Blake believed this was one of the reasons so many rogues went feral so quickly – the human side keeps the wolf grounded. Civilised. A step above a wild animal. Without it...

“Trust me, I'm positive,” Asher was saying, “I came across a plethora of useful information in the Elmwood files. He might be slippery in all other areas but, strangely, Syrus is a stickler for accurate records.”

Barnaby handed a piece of paper to the Alpha. “Meagan’s birth certificate,” he explained.

Blake frowned down at the official looking document. On the surface it seemed perfectly normal; name, date of birth, parents etc. It was only when he looked closely that he could see the faint shadow of another set of words underneath the ink.

Forged, his wolf muttered in disdain.

“It’s been doctored,” Asher confirmed. “The chemicals they used were crude, but effective.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Took me a while to figure out how to raise the letters underneath.” Beside him, Barnaby shuddered and Asher shot him a wicked grin. “Barnaby here was a little concerned I'd damage it. It is an official document, after all.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “How did you know it was a forgery?”

Asher grinned. “Smell. Go on...”

Blake sniffed hesitantly at the paper. The faintest whiff of a harsh chemical assaulted his nostrils and his nose wrinkled involuntarily. It was vaguely familiar and half-buried under a another, less tangible scent – flowery and pungent.

“Acetone,” his brother laughed. “Faint but still traceable, if you know what you're looking for. Not a particularly fool-proof method of erasing ink. I was able to retrieve most of it using my own special mix.” He glanced at the disapproving Eta. “Don't worry, the reaction fades over time. Give it a few days and it will look as good as new again.”