Maximus (Boys of Wynter Book 2)

  The coast was clear. I walked to the bow. "What are you doing here? And don't bring up scenery."

  "I decided that since a certain wickedly hot ferry boat captain insisted on working today, then I would sit on board her vessel and watch her."

  I grunted in frustration. "You are incorrigible. I told you I'd be fine."

  Maximus sat forward on the crate he was using as a seat. "Uh, you should probably lower that sweet honey voice of yours, Trex. "

  I moved closer and lowered it to a near whisper. "I'm fine. You don't need to be here. Besides, people will notice and there will be talk."

  His laugh and the cocky smile that went with it made me want to slap him . . . or kiss him . . . one of the two. I just wasn't sure which.

  "People?" he said with another laugh. "What people? I pretty sure Steemer could give a damn and the nosy goblin is off in the other realms."

  "What about Rafferty and Tracker and the others?"

  "They won't be out of Wynter for hours. Just in time for me to be here for my work shift." He sat back with a smug grin and rested his elbows on the railing.

  "Well, have fun then. I need to fill in my log book." I circled around to the captain's helm and tried hard to concentrate on my task, but the large passenger at the bow made that a challenge.

  "Hey, ferryman," he called.

  I lifted my head and tilted it, hoping he could imagine the annoyed expression I wore under the veil. "What?"

  Maximus leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. "Whatcha wearing under that sexy cloak?"

  I was glad he couldn't see my smile. I glanced around. No one was in earshot, so I skipped the gravelly voice that always left me with a sore throat. "The same jeans and shirt you saw me in just a few hours ago."

  "That's kind of disappointing."

  "What were you expecting, a silk baby doll nightie and crotch-less underwear?" My suggestion left him stunned speechless, which was my goal. "You're thinking about me wearing that right now, aren't you?"

  "Hell yeah I am."

  The metal arms of the reservoir clanked open signaling that it was filling up with souls. I dropped my voice low again. "I've got passengers." I hoped that souls coming on board would encourage him to leave the boat, but he looked unmoved.

  "That's fine. I'll just sit right here. I'm sure they will hardly notice me."

  "Right. Why should they notice the man up at the bow who is causing the deck to tilt toward the starboard side just by sitting on a crate?"

  Maximus leaned his head and looked down the deck to see if I was telling the truth. It was no exaggeration.

  "I can remedy that." He stood up and slid the crate so that it was exactly in line with the center of the bow. Then he sat back down and crossed his arms.

  I had the advantage again. I could watch him from underneath my disguise and he had no idea. He was a magnificent sight in the mortal world. In the underworld, he was power and life and courage, the exact opposite of our grim surroundings.

  And he was there on the river for me. That thought nearly sent me into a fit of nerves. At the same time, I choked up thinking about how he'd given up his hours of freedom away from this wretched world to make sure I was safe. It took all of my strength not to run up to the bow and throw my arms around him. Wouldn't that be a sight for Catch or Steemer to see, I thought with a smile. The ancient, deformed ferryman heartily embracing one of the Boys.

  I waited for my dazed, dripping wet passengers to board and took a moment to look up toward the front of the ferry. Suddenly, guilt gripped me. Maximus had done so much for me in the past few days, and I was keeping a huge secret from him. His pack was in charge of keeping the mortal world shielded from the knowledge that the underworld existed, so my secret affected him directly. I had to tell him.

  I'd wound myself so deep into my thoughts, I'd temporarily forgotten my reluctant cargo. A howl of anger startled me. I spun around just as the soul of a large, angry-looking man lunged at me. No longer propelled by bones and muscles, souls moved slowly. That seemed to surprise the man. Confused, he looked down at his feet as they moved in slow motion. His stunned white face lifted and he stared at me through terrified, dead eyes.

  His body fell forward as if it was being lowered down by pulleys. I stepped to the side as he reached for my neck. A solid fist plowed through the mist, sending the disembodied man back to the railing with the other moaning passengers. The terror still hadn't left his hollow face.

  I lowered my voice to a hoarse whisper and leaned my head toward Maximus. "That doesn't count as saving me because souls are virtually harmless. I could have easily ducked out of the way."

  Maximus nodded his agreement and turned to head back to the bow. I reached over and took a secret hold of his hand. He stopped and tilted his ear back to hear me.

  "I have something I need to tell you, Max. Something important."

  He turned his face to look at me, forgetting that he wouldn't see anything more than a black veil.

  "Not here," I said quietly. "Later."

  Twenty-three

  Maximus

  It was hard as hell, but I had to leave Rikki while she was still working the ferry. It was especially hard when I knew she had something important to tell me. But I needed to get ready for my shift. After my talk with Walt I was going nuts with worry thinking about Rikki alone on the river with no one to watch over her, so I'd headed straight to the underworld. I had become an obsessive fool about the woman, and I didn't give a fuck. I was going to have to own up to the fact that my heart wasn't made of iron after all. At least not where Rikki was concerned.

  I'd heard Wilder, Flint and Stryker fire up their motorcycles an hour earlier, no doubt to head over to the Sins for a beer before work. It was always easier to face the prospect of a long shift in Wynter with a few drops of beer floating in the veins.

  I changed into my buckskins, pulled a shirt on over my holster and headed outside to my bike. I was working without my horse tonight, which was perfect. That way I had an excuse to ride to the river. I'd leave Barq in the paddock, and with any luck, I'd catch Rikki alone for a quick talk.

  It was just before midnight, and while the mountain road was naturally dark and desolate at this hour, it seemed just a little too quiet. Normally, the nocturnal animals were still moving about, skittering through trees and cooing their night sounds. It was an eerie quiet, like the kind that falls over the forest in the dead of winter. Only it was a mild summer night.

  I leaned down over my handlebars and twisted the throttle to pick up my speed. As I breathed in, the usual pine scent was tainted with motorcycle exhaust. Wilder and the guys had left a good hour earlier, so it wasn't from their bikes. And the other local clubs came from town, not from the coast.

  I poured on the speed and headed around the final curve where the Seven Sins loomed into view. The back end of the parking lot was lined with five huge bikers, each one straddling a motorcycle. The glow of my headlights illuminated their Masters of Mayhem cuts. My three pack mates stood in the parking lot facing them down.

  My bike popped off both tires as I jumped over the dip that creased the road in front of the parking lot entrance. All heads turned my direction. Jemma was standing in front of the bar with her rifle clutched in her hands.

  My tires screeched to a halt as I parked. I climbed off, lumbered across the asphalt and stood next to Stryker. Waves of heat rolled off of him. It seemed the only thing keeping all of them from shifting into wolf form was the cluster of terrified, curious and human bar patrons watching through the front window.

  The Mayhem members were wearing bandanas across their faces, but each one had the same cold, dead expression.

  "They look like fucking zombies," I muttered from the side of my mouth to Stryker.

  "Yep. And they don't say much."

  "Drugs?"

  "Something powerful, that's for damn sure."

  The guy who was front and center on the line up had a row of ugly looking X-shaped scar
s all the way up the side of his forearm. The biker on the end had pure white hair to go with his glassy stare. The colorless long hair made him look extra fucking creepy.

  "We need you to turn the bikes around," Flint said "and don't come back."

  "I'm calling the police," Jemma shouted from the front step of the bar.

  Flint didn't look back, but he waved a hand to tell her no. Wilder looked over at him, and Stryker and I shot each other puzzled glances. Flint must have had a reason for not calling the police. He knew the cops were looking for Mayhem in connection with Kay's murder.

  "You boys don't tell us what to do." The muffled words came from the white-haired guy on the end. His eyes were crossed badly and he had a jagged scar running across his forehead as if someone had cut the brain from his flat skull. But goofy as he looked, with eyes going every direction, his massive hands with knuckles the size of golf balls, left no question that he could pound the pulp out of someone without much effort.

  "Yeah, this ain't your territory," the guy with the scarred forearm snarled. As he spoke, his bandana slipped, exposing the broad bridge of a crooked nose. He reached up to push the bandana back in place. The X's on his arm ran all the way to his elbow and the fallen disguise revealed that his right ear had been chopped off. All that remained were a few jagged chunks of flesh. This guy was one mangled asshole.

  Wilder stepped forward. We instinctively moved with him. "What do you mean territory? This is our town, not yours. In fact, just where the hell is your town?"

  A laugh that sounded like bones breaking rumbled out from the guy with the chopped off ear. "They want to know what town we're from." The rest of his club joined in on the joke, which apparently required some insider information to be understood.

  Without warning, the bike on the end fired up and the rest followed. The four of us stood there shoulder to shoulder, waiting until they rode well out of sight.

  Jemma joined us, looking frazzled and still holding her phone. "Flint, why the hell didn't you let me call the police? They killed Kay. I'll call them right now."

  "No," Flint said sharply, catching all of our attention.

  "What's up?" Stryker asked him. "Or is it because they don't look quite human?"

  "Oh, they're human." Flint glanced back to make sure none of the patrons had wandered outside. "Or at least they used to be. Did you hear the way the cross eyed guy said the word boys? They know who we are. And now we know who they are too."

  "All right, Einstein," Wilder said impatiently. "Enough with the cryptic words. We've got to get to work. Spill what that magical brain of yours has already figured out."

  "I'm sure you saw the line of X's on that big guy's arm."

  "The guy missing an ear?" I asked. "Yeah, looked like he cut those marks himself."

  Flint motioned for us to follow him farther out toward the road and away from the bar. "Back in the nineteenth century, there was a little town on the coast of the Carolinas that was terrorized by a serial killer. The papers nicknamed him Cannibal."

  Stryker spoke up. "Right. Because he ate his victims, and he carved an X in his arm after each kill."

  "Yeah. And when the police were getting closer, he decided to make himself look like a victim. He cut off his ear and left it in his house. Then he disappeared. They finally caught the guy sitting naked in the forest surrounded by body parts and chewing on an arm like a piece of corn. He's been in Vapour's realm since his execution by hanging. I could see the rope marks on his neck when he turned his head."

  "Wait," Wilder spoke up, "the guy with the white hair and the scar across his head—he was that whack job who was holed up in an asylum at the turn of the twentieth century. He went on a killing spree in the hospital. Took out half the staff with their own medical instruments."

  "Yep," Flint nodded. "That scar was left over from a botched up lobotomy. The doctors thought it would help his violent tendencies. Instead it made him even more psycho. He's been in Vapour's realm since the police shot him dead."

  Jemma lowered the rifle. "Well . . . shit."

  "You can say that again." Stryker pulled out his phone. "I'm going to remind Willow not to leave the house at night and to double lock the damn doors. She still thinks she's living up in her remote cabin, never needing to worry about locked doors."

  I thought about everything Walt had told me. This was all starting to add up. Only my buddies were missing a key piece of information.

  "What do you think is going on?" Wilder asked Flint.

  Flint shook his head. "No clue. Hey, Max, remember that slow moving wraith we cornered, only it turned out not to be a wraith at all?"

  I nodded. "And then he turned right into the flames as if he knew he had no choice except to disappear because we had him surrounded."

  "He had the same cold, dead eyes as the Mayhem creeps," Flint said.

  "He sure did. And I think I know what's going on, but I can't tell you yet. I need to clear it with someone else first. They are trusting me to keep a secret, and I don't want to betray them."

  Wilder stepped closer to me and looked more than a little pissed. "What the fuck are you talking about, Max? Your loyalty is to us."

  "I know. That will never change. I'm going to fill you in just as soon as I can."

  Twenty-four

  Maximus

  I was feeling more than just a little tension from my fellow pack mates. I needed to clear things with Rikki first. Vapour's plan had entangled Walt and her, and there was no way I could tell what I knew without revealing their family secret. I had no intention of betraying Rikki's trust, which put me in one hell of a tight spot.

  Wilder and I were working the interior this shift so we headed straight through to the river to leave off the horses. I had spent hours on the ferry making sure Rikki was safe, and I hadn't seen even a trace of Vapour's ghouls. But before we’d even passed over the Wynter border to the river, we could sense that something was going on. I kicked Barq into a gallop, and we exploded through the Wynter mist and out onto the riverbank. Both Catch and Rikki were holding up torches trying to keep back a half dozen ghouls.

  Catch heard us ride up. He swung around so fast, the torch flew from his hand. The flames brushed against Wilder's horse. Chino, a red roan stallion known for its temper, shot straight up on its back legs. Wilder had not anticipated the flaming torch or Chino's reaction. He slid straight down the horse's back and hit the ground with a hard thud.

  "Fuck."

  Chino brought his front hooves down dangerously close to Catch. The goblin jumped out of the way, accidently pushing into Rikki. She dropped her torch and stumbled right into the grasp of one of the ghouls. Her feminine scream could not be missed. Catch looked more than confused. Thankfully, Wilder was still busy recuperating from his fall.

  I dropped down off Barq's back and grabbed the torch that Catch had thrown. "Duck," I yelled at Rikki as I headed straight toward the ghoul. Flames licked at its hollow eyed face. It threw its arms up in fear. Rikki broke free of its grasp.

  Wilder recovered and between the two of us, we managed to scare the ghouls back with the torches. They howled in anger and fled over the river, the long, tattered tails of their garments dragging along the murky surface, as they raced back to Vapour's realm.

  Wilder stomped back to Catch. The goblin backed up. "I'm sorry, Wilder. I didn't mean to scare Chino. You know how sensitive that horse is." He spoke fast and used his arms to block the fire from his face. "Don't set me on fire."

  "Stop, you idiot." Wilder grabbed Catch's arm and shoved the torch in his hand. "I'm just trying to hand this back to you. Now go fetch my horse, and I'll try not to think about you every time my ass aches tonight."

  Astonishingly, Rikki's disguise was still solidly in place. She dropped her voice down. "Guess you won't be wagging that tail much tonight, eh Wilder?" It was a perfect imitation of her father's Trex voice, and it was something he would have said. We'd all grown used to Trex's wry sense of humor. But Rikki could see that Wilder was
n't amused. She quickly added in her thrashed tone. "Thanks, Boys. Not sure why those ghouls were bugging us. Must have been bored."

  Catch scooted off to grab Chino's reins. Cisco and Goliath, Rafferty and Zander's horses, were still in the paddock, which meant their pack hadn't left Wynter yet.

  "Where the hell is Paygon, that dimwitted Cyclops?" I asked. "He needs to get those fucking ghouls under control."

  Catch's small dark eyes gleamed my direction, which meant he had some juicy goblin gossip. He was huge on gossip. He hurried back from putting Chino in with the other horses. "Didn't you hear, Max? Feenix and Paygon had a big, angry fight about a week ago. That's why you haven't seen Paygon for awhile. That's why those ghouls are messing around down here. Feenix accused his brother of being lazy and worthless ever since Stryker took out his eye. It's true really. You know you need both eyes for depth perception." Catch pointed a long crooked finger at each eye to illustrate.

  Wilder grunted in frustration. "So where the fuck is Paygon, you weasel?"

  "Paygon accused Feenix of losing control of the realm because he was always spending too much time with the nymphs and not minding the shop, so to speak. Paygon tried to tell him something strange was happening outside of the underworld. Feenix got mad as hell and sent his brother to Cashel's realm to help in the fields."

  Wilder looked at me. "Never thought I'd find myself on Paygon's side, that's for damn sure."

  Catch caught the exchange. "Yeah? Is it true then? Is something going on out there?"

  I snuck a sideways peek at Rikki. Her head was turned my direction.

  "Don't you worry your squashed little head over it, Catch." Wilder motioned for us to leave. "Let's go, Max. I was already in a bad mood to start and now I fucking need to tear something to shreds. Wraiths are a good place to start."

  Wilder turned to go but then stopped and looked back at the quiet, little ferryman in his black hood and veil. "Trex, anyone ever tell you, you scream like a woman? Seriously, buddy, that was fucking weird." He shook his head and walked away.