"How are we going to find them?" Simon asked, his horse pawing the London cobblestones nervously.
"I know someone who might help us get close, and once we're within range, I'll be able to feel her."
He dismounted. Simon slid out of his saddle. It had been a grueling trip and Simon hadn't complained once, though he had hummed tunelessly most of the way.
The door to the bookshop was locked. Hugh pounded on it with his fist.
An eternity passed before a light lit up an upstairs window.
Finally, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman in a nightcap, a cat twining around her ankles.
"I'm sorry to wake you," Hugh said.
She waved him off. "Who can sleep with all this restless energy charging through the city? It's a dark night indeed when even the Colonial can't rest." She moved aside so they could enter the bookshop. The cat shied away from him, going immediately to Simon.
She set her candle down on the counter. "What do you need?"
"I'm looking for someone. This belongs to her." He fished the tiny bird pin out of his vest pocket.
She pulled a map of London out from a shelf, then smoothed it out on the counter. She took the pin and laid it on the map, then concentrated on it, her hand hovering in the air.
The witch's vacant gaze sent a shiver through him. Simon stepped up beside him so that their arms were touching and began opening and closing his pocket watch.
The bookshop owner stayed like that, her lips moving wordlessly, an uncomfortably long time. And then her hand dropped, her index finger pressed to a spot on the map. She blinked and shook her head.
"Oh dear, she's the one causing trouble near St. James."
Hugh turned to the door.
"It won't be safe for you," she said urgently. "That's the nexus of this spirit of unrest."
"We have to get to her," Hugh said simply. "I'm stronger than you think."
"You are not stronger than this," she said matter-of-factly. The cat meowed his consent.
Hugh met Simon's eye. "You could stay here."
Simon shook his head.
As Hugh mounted his horse, he tried not to think about the royal family tucked away in the castle or his sister at the mercy of a despot or Constance, so distressed that a witch could sense it on the other side of the city.
They rode through eerily empty streets, the horses' hooves echoing loudly, the smell of sewage dank and oppressive.
Simon's horse halted, and then so did Hugh's own.
"They aren't going to go any further," Simon said, simply as he slid to the ground.
Hugh followed suit. He patted his mount's rump, and then they started walking, leaving the horses behind.
As they drew closer, the noise grew, and then he saw a faint glow in the sky.
"Is it snowing?" Simon asked, holding his hand out.
Hugh caught a flake and rubbed it between his fingers. "It's ash."
They kept moving; the noise growing and then it hit Hugh as if he'd walked into a brick wall.
Rage.
He stumbled to a halt, the wolf snarling inside him.
"What?" Simon asked.
This was nothing like the sadness or fear that had trapped Constance before. When that had happened on the hilltop, he'd been able to shift back to human form. He'd whispered in her ear to help her find her way back. This wasn't even like the fear laced nightmares that had tormented everyone back at Carnsley.
This was so much more. It was white hot and all he could feel was anger and the wolf straining at the leash.
"The witch may have been right," he said through gritted teeth.
Simon walked to the nearest intersection and gasped. Hugh followed cautiously, anger rising in his chest.
Buildings were on fire all along the street. Hundreds of people were running toward the palace. It took him a moment to realize that there were wolves among them, some mid-change as they bolted toward the guards, saliva thick on their faces.
"Mother!" Simon said, pointing.
A woman stood before the castle gates, guards spread out on either side of her. She had her feet braced, her fists raised, waiting for the first wave of supernatural creatures to reach her.
She and the handful of guards were all that stood between a writhing mass of monsters and the royal family.
Hugh growled low in his throat. He shook his head.
"Simon, I can't go any further." It was suddenly hard to form coherent words. The beast was lurching inside, mad with his mate's anger.
"I knew you would need me," Simon said, his eyes big in his pale face.
Hugh looked around, forcing his rational mind to hold on. "Get to Constance and stop her. This feels—" he groaned as anger beat through his veins. He'd explode if he didn't give in soon. "She gets lost sometimes and she can't find her way out."
Simon nodded. "Like when she's dreaming. Where is she?"
"In her mind—"
"No," he said impatiently. "Where is her body right now?"
Hugh had been scanning and sniffing. There were too many other scents hiding hers, but there was one building that made the most sense. He pointed to the abandoned church.
"I think there," he slurred, backing away from the wall of fury as it expanded toward him.
"Be careful, we are not in our right mi—" his words cut off. He doubled over in pain, the wolf taking over his body. "Get away!" He hissed.
Simon was already running back down the street.
Distantly Hugh heard his shirt seams rip. He saw Mrs. Allen intercept the first wave of monsters, bones crunching, and then he was tearing through the streets to protect his brethren, anger beating through his veins.
He was an animal now.
He registered a look of surprise on the woman's face as he launched himself into her. She was almost hesitant to engage with him, but he knew she was the real threat, not the soldiers arranged behind her or even the very distant sound of sirens and bells that were just ringing through the city.
His paws hit her in the chest and she fell backward, but she kept rolling, kicking him off of her with her legs. He slid on his side into an iron lamppost with a yelp. It surprised Hugh. He was not used to prey being so difficult. Of course, she was not prey. She was a huntress, and that was why she had to be stopped.
"Remember who you are, Hugh!" she yelled. "You don't want to hurt the royal family!"
He was back on his feet. He wasn't Hugh, not right now. There were other supernaturals converging on the woman, but they were no match for her.
As a warrior, there was a place in his heart where he could appreciate the skill with which she fought. She did not back down. But there was too much rage beating through his veins for the respect to stop him.
The other supers parted, as if they could sense he had a better chance.
"We can not let Baines win. I don't want to hurt you, but I will defend this city." She grabbed him by the muzzle and lifted him over her head. But this time he was ready, twisting in the air so that when she let him go, he landed on his feet. He crouched low, his hackles raised, dodging out of the way of her jabs.
"I don't want to hurt you!"
He didn't believe her.
Someone grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her side. It smelled like a vampire. Her head cracked into the vampire with a sickening crunch, but before the vampire had even crumpled to the ground, the wolf had the Huntress's arm in his powerful jaws. Blood leaked over his tongue. There was something about the way she tasted, something familiar...
Her other fist connected with his skull again and again.
He let go and dodged out of her way. A small voice in the back of his mind telling him that her blood tasted the way his mate smelled, wildflowers.
But rage beat through his veins, beat through his head. It drowned out all the other shapes, all the other senses.
The Huntress was distracted, fighting off several of them at the same time. He crouched low, ready to pounce again. This time, he'd have her throat in his jaws.