Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 417

Chapter 417: Lucas: Strange Symbols

LUCAS

What the hell is this?

Our fur bristles, but we can't linger on the shock of the moment.

The green circle pulses with an otherworldly glow, yet Aurum's paw passes through it as if it's nothing but air. No scent, no resistance.

Magic. Obviously.

Our attention turns to the bodies. There's something strange about them. Bloated, decaying, but somehow devoid of… bugs.

It's unnatural.

Unnatural, Aurum agrees with a growl. His agitation is high in here. Desecrated.

The stench of death fills my nose, but beneath it... Pack. My pack.

These bodies…

Yes, Aurum confirms. Pack.

Their faces, bloated and discolored though they are, are recognizable. Pack lost at different times in these past few months. The initial attack at Westwood. During the strange invasions. And more.

My feet carry me around the circle. Each step reveals another familiar face. Another pack member I failed to protect.

Five bodies total are pack. All who should have been laid to rest with proper rites, their spirits released to run free with the moon.

Instead, they're here. Defiled. Used for some sick ritual that makes me want to howl with rage.

The green circle pulses again, mocking us. Aurum wants to tear through the walls, hunt down every bloodsucker responsible for this desecration. But I force myself to stay focused, to memorize every detail.

They were preserved somehow. Kept from fully decomposing. We've seen some of our wolves brought back to life in some strange way, used as a zombie army; is this how it begins?

Or have they outlived their usefulness?

Too many questions. Too few answers.

Beneath the bodies we know, partially hidden, lie others. Fresher ones. Maybe humans. Maybe wolves from other packs.

of them. Strange, interlocked circles. An arm here.

semi-preserved in this unnatural

rage simmers, mirroring my

flares. For a split second, the air fills with the taste of copper and rot. Then nothing. But the bodies... the

Son of a bitch.

Track the scent!

bond, even as I know it's too late. Whatever this is, it won't be that

to chase after our pack members, to track down whoever dared desecrate their

circle pulsed now shows bare ground, as if nothing supernatural ever happened

the scent of decay

catalog the scents, but so much of it has disappeared, as if it never existed. Death. Decay. Magic that

can't catch

that easily. Keep looking. Keep your noses to

methodical searching, the truth becomes clear. Whatever magic whisked

contact makes my mental ears itch. We are

builds in our chest. Aurum's rage

We can see claw marks, broken buildings. But no bodies, living or dead. The

escape the sod house. Jericho would not leave so

Perhaps.

already gathering

* * *

the sod house, though, there's a lot of scent to wade

of Ryder, but we can find traces

Death lingers beneath it all, a stench that burns my

impossible to tell if it's from friend

Jericho's scent leading north,

spread out, methodically checking every corner. The vampires have left their stink

I follow it down a hallway we've already cleared, past

pages torn and scattered. A strange thing to find, I'd think. We don't have many books at Wolf's Landing. They

this room. Vester follows me, his ears

him, I circle the room, letting

it's there. Ozone and lightning. The air before

Magic.

pile of destroyed books. Beneath the heap, something pulses with energy. Not the sickly

reminds me of Ava's magic. I can't always sense it,

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