Umbra Read online

  Fierceness threaded through him as he thought of Jess. Matteo knew that his feelings for Jess weren’t reciprocated. He had tried to look upon her as a friend during the couple of weeks they’d spent together during their midnight meetings at Villa Silva. But the truth was, his feelings wouldn’t be altered. Every moment they’d spent together, he hoped she might one day grow to care about him as he cared about her…as he… loved her.

  Matteo knew that’s what he felt for her. He’d known it when she’d shown up that night with Rune. Their scents so intermingled that there was no denying their intimacy. Matteo had felt his hope and heart shatter. Like a callus, a hollow layer of acceptance had settled around his heart.

  Turns out, there’s nothing like being locked up in a cell for six weeks to give one perspective.

  Even if he and Jess weren’t destined to be together as everything in Matteo seemed to cry out, he would do anything and everything to help her. Always. However he could.

  A distant sound, perhaps footsteps, vibrated through the ceiling above them. “I need to see my dad,” Piera exclaimed, darting for the door.

  Matteo’s spirit lightened. Piera was mad at both himself and Giovanni for lying to her, but that didn’t stop her from caring about them. She was simply hurting.

  “I think his keeping all this from you was to protect you from the Triodia as much as it was to protect Jess,” Matteo offered.

  Glancing back from the doorway, the tautness in her expression lightened. Her lips twitched. “You look like shit by the way.”

  The plain-speaking remark was so wonderfully familiar, like the taste of home, that Matteo’s throat grew tight. He forced himself to huff out a laugh as the sting of moisture threatened behind his eyes. As the door closed, he sat down and put a hunk of cheese and bread in his mouth and felt as if he were tucking into a cone of cuoppo. The simple flavors as delicious as his favorite deep-fried street food: courgette flowers, mozzarella doughballs, and potato croquettes. And the lingering warmth in his chest that his friend had left him with was sweeter than any zeppole dessert could ever be.

  4

  THE SHADOWLANDS

  Fifty wolves stood on the bank of La Alba’s lake. Eager to conceal her intention to leave Earth, Jess had taken Sunny’s advice. After she’d chosen the wolves who were now gathered around her, she’d returned to bed. And fortune seemed to have smiled on her; there was still no detectible crackle as the rising sun turned the lake’s surface molten silver. It seemed that Lorenzo’s blood sluagh hadn’t returned and that Theo remained none the wiser that she was about to leave Earth.

  Jess trod into the water, Dearbhla alongside her. Undulations rippled around them. As more light spilled over the horizon, the ripples fluttered back towards the wolves. Jess stilled. The opening of the Depths portal flooded her awareness. Where a moment ago, the water had saturated her fur, her legs remained dry. She took another exploratory step farther into the lake and had the unnerving sense that she was rocking. Her flews lifted, but she held back the snarl that threatened. The warmth of the sun and Dearbhla’s presence beside her chased away her unease. Jess tilted back her head and howled.

  A chorus leaped up, baying and cries piercing the dawn. Splashing erupted.

  The Rems are following me.

  A surge of guilt crashed through her; they were following her because they had no choice. As their Alpha, they were compelled to serve her. Yet Jess’s unease about how she was using the Rems around her faded as the more immediate danger engulfed her. They were all about to go up against a pucca unit. Tension climbed within her. The only fae she’d ever seen was her friend Astra, and despite her petite build, Jess recalled all too well how fearsome she could be with her huge black wings unfurled and the spirit of the wildness sharpening her body like a blade.

  At the thought of her Unseelie friend shame threatened. After all, the Unseelie they were about to fight didn’t deserve the fate Jess intended for them: death. The territory they were entering was theirs. She was the invader. And her fight wasn’t with these Unseelie but with Queen Mara alone. Yet Jess silenced the doubts and wrested aside her guilt once more. This was what the last six weeks of preparation had been for. This pucca unit was just another obstacle between her and the Sidhe.

  With this thought fixed, Jess strode forwards until she was immersed entirely. The rocking sensation took her. Then, the texture of the ground changed beneath the sensitive pads of her paws as mud became sand. Unsure of whether she was standing or falling, a sense of vertigo threatened to pull her into the gloomy water. Fighting the disorientation, she paddled forwards, her paws gratefully finding the sandy bank.

  Emerging from the lake, the otherworldliness of Jess’s surroundings struck her. Some things, like the scent of the water, were familiar, but she had no name for dozens of others. A spicy aroma wafted from the grasses, reminding her of curry. A cacophony of drones and clicks whirred through the grasslands, too. Her heart raced as she wondered what produced them: animals or insects? But most of all, the sight of the shadows captured her attention. Her shifter senses prickled with apprehension as she took in the shifting shadows. Jess felt she was searching them for something hostile. The land was alive with shades. They moved in a different way to those on Earth. She felt them stirring in everything. They thronged. Even the air seemed riddled with them. Denser. Heavier.

  With the creeping feeling, Jess remembered what Rune had once told her about the fae lands: “Umbra means shadow…There are many mysterious shades within the Shadowlands. Even the trees shades are unfixed and have a will of their own.” Despite knowing this, as Jess stared across the plains, the landscape seemed inexplicably strange.

  Jess tried to ground herself, remembering what she knew about the lay of the land from the map she’d looked at last night. The portal through which they’d entered Umbra was situated on the outskirts of Lares. She knew that only four miles of grassland separated them from the Unseelie capital. The closeness of Lares gripped her. Something feral within her called to Jess to charge over the plains towards the queen who held the Sidhe in her cold-iron clutches.

  The splashing and tread of footfalls behind Jess punctuated her thoughts as the iron-clawed portaled through. Jess pricked her ears, straining to hear past the droning noise teeming in the long grasses.

  A rumble—so low Jess felt it more than heard it—suffused the air.

  Hooves.

  Her heart quickened in a similar rhythm. Taking her cue from her second, she hurtled forwards. The portal patrol had detected them. The pack followed Jess and Dearbhla. With the Rems at her back, determination swelled through Jess. She felt as if a great wave were behind her, waiting to be unleashed. Soon, the racing hearts and paws of her clan were all that existed. She and the pack moved as one. Jess felt as if they were an orchestra, each wolf had its distinct sound, but they moved in harmony.

  The clan had spent much of the last few weeks training, preparing for this moment. Jess’s right-hand Dearbhla, and her half fae heritage, had helped prep them in what to expect fighting the Unseelie. Yet, when Jess caught sight of the first pucca, despite everything Dearbhla had told the clan, as well as the books on Umbran wildlife that Jess had read, it hadn’t prepared her for how huge the horse-like creature was. It was even bigger in size than an adult moose. Its huge black wings made it appear even more colossal. Its bulk looming through the dawning day seemed monstrous as if it should be something reserved to the terror of night.

  The fae seated upon the pucca had his wings furled. His skin gleamed a silvery hue like the half-light. As Jess’s second had predicted the fae led the charge on foot as the activated portal was a Depths one; they knew the intruders were likely flightless. According to Dearbhla, the pucca riders’ first tactic would be to try to run them down. Thus the pack planned to bring the tethered beasts to the ground first. Pity for the innocent animals rang through Jess. She thought of the girl who had once wandered the national parks, transforming litter into art, all to express the plig
ht of innocent animals, chastising humans for their indifference. But once again Jess focused on her purpose: to get to the Sidhe. For that, this unit had to be eliminated.

  Her heart crashed in her chest as more pucca riders charged towards them. They rode in lines of five. The puccas’ lustrous coats and eyes caught the fading light. The cloidem—the swords the fae carried, as well as the vicious spurs at the rider’s heels—glinted, too. Whips lashed through the air as the fae forced the pucca into a gallop. The full might of twenty pucca riders bore down upon the pack.

  Jess once more pushed aside her guilt. She couldn’t afford to show mercy. Gritting her resolve, Jess tore to the left, one half of the pack flanking her while the other half followed Dearbhla. In a pincer movement, the pack darted around, throwing themselves upon the enemy’s flank. The dawn’s chorus was one of clanging claws and blades. Whinnies and shouts warred with the wolves’ snarls and yips as the formations met one another.

  Jess and her line of wolves on the left-hand flank bit at the legs of the beasts. Darting beneath them, they dodged the beasts’ legs and the faes’ swinging swords. Adrenaline spiked through Jess. She could feel the rest of her wolves following, stirring with the same energy. There was a strange dichotomy of feeling at one with the line of wolves, and yet so rooted in her body as she dodged, snapping at the equine flesh she raced past.

  As Jess and her line swept around in an arc, her mind was alive with the sense of what happened behind her. She knew the next line of wolves were to go for the beasts’ throats. While the next two formations would repeat the process with more of the pucca until, hopefully, they brought them down. The charge of the pack’s rhythm soon swallowed Jess. She moved more by instinct than conscious thought.

  Jess’s wintery blue eyes took in the white wolves already locking their jaws around two of the pucca. Her line careered on, readying to attack the next pucca. Ahead of her, one wolf let out a whine as it was trampled, but Jess threw herself upwards. Her jaws sank into the pucca’s throat, the primal lust of the hunt singing through her veins as the beast’s blood spilled into her mouth. The gush of heat informed her that she’d successfully punctured a main artery. She released hold of the rasping animal just in time to avoid its rider’s cloidem. Straining every muscle, she darted away from the blade, satisfaction ringing through her as the pucca crashed to the ground.

  By the fifth time Jess and her line had arced around to attack the pucca, the great beasts had all been successfully brought down. The sound of hooves was replaced by the whinnies and huffs of dying animals. The Unseelie spread their wings, circling like vultures above their fallen steeds.

  The pack now switched its attention from the beasts to the fae. Despite Dearbhla’s warning to the clan about the viciousness of an aerial assault, many of the wolves were caught unawares as the Unseelie swooped down, their cloidem finding their mark. Howls peppered the morning. Remorse threaded through Jess. She had brought these Rems here. Commanded them to fight. Led them to their death.

  Suffocating guilt threatened but Jess lunged at a descending fae. Her claws shredded the leather of his arm, tearing flesh, too. Pain-filled cries told Jess that many of the streaks of white she saw leaping through the air were landing their own wounds upon the fae. Wolf after wolf sought to slash at the fae who swooped down. As an Unseelie dove towards Jess, she leaped towards them. Trusting implicitly in the strength and speed of her body, her claws met his blade. With her other paw, she slashed the fae’s torso. A shout of pain was all she had time to catch before she once more hurtled to the ground.

  But even as she relished her successful blow, the distressing sense that the clan was being picked off tore at her. Like owls, the fae plunged through the morning, ripping open the Rems with their cloidem. Her heart pounded as a wolf ahead of her had its shoulder skewered. Muscle and sinew were ruthlessly exposed and the iron scent of blood flooded Jess’s nose. Fury rose in Jess as she launched herself at the Unseelie, who was drawing out her blade from the injured wolf. Jess’s iron claws clashed with the blade of the fae, who dodged her other paw as Jess swiped. The fae retreated skywards. Jess took stock of the pack and their enemies above.

  The giant winged forms continued to descend from the sky, eliciting howls of pain. Once more, the Unseelies’ vicious silhouettes seemed like something belonging to the dark; unnatural in the light that brightened with each passing moment. The Rems were banking on the Unseelie not being able to withstand the effect the iron would have in their bloodstream. The clan was counting on landing enough strikes that the poison would weaken the fae and bring them to the ground. Jess prayed their iron claws would work.

  Jess’s heart clambered into her throat as she felt the full responsibility of the injuries the wolves around her suffered. Adrenaline and fear warred within her. What if the iron didn’t affect the fae in time? But Jess urged herself on, jumping, swiping, and darting, willing the wolves around her to do the same.

  Their dogged determination was rewarded when the first fae plummeted. The nearest wolves surged upon the weakened fae. Then another dropped. And another. Weakened by the pieces of iron that had come from the wolves’ claws, they were disoriented. These fierce-faced warriors now dropped from the sky like hatchlings from the nest. When a fae fell just in front of Jess, a flurry of wolves surged upon the female Unseelie. Jess watched as the fae’s lustrous black wings were swallowed by the white wall. Sickness roiled through her as a memory sprang to mind: Astra’s beautiful wings stretched out as she did yoga in the penitentiary.

  Swallowing down the bile, Jess forced herself into motion as shouts rained from the flocking fae above. “Iron!”

  The fae knew they’d been poisoned, but they fought on. Soon the remaining airborne fae were forced to the plain, staggering in a circle as they tried to defend themselves. Invigorated by their visible success and incensed by the bodies of their clan, the wolves moved in. The fae exerted themselves, still landing blows here and there. Yet the whimpers soon became snarls and growls as the wolves surrounded the remaining fae. As Jess joined the circle of white moving in on the fae, the sense that all of the pack’s sinew and muscle were linked swathed her. Savagery fired through her. Then there was nothing but teeth and claws. Jess gave herself over to the raw instinct, driving her to bury herself into the softness of her prey. Like a fox in a hen house, Jess and her wolves shredded the flesh and feathers before them.

  It was only when the final Unseelie breathed his last, that the intoxicating lust for the hunt dissipated and Jess surveyed the carnage. She felt as if she were coming out of a trance. Her eyes stilled on a female fae, her features still intact and oddly gentle in death; not the usual angles and sharpness that shaped living fae. Jess’s eye caught on where the pack had ripped through muscle, to the gleaming rainbow bones. Once more, thoughts of Astra stamped through Jess, hollowing out this victory.

  It was actually a relief when the shadows falling over the plain drew Jess’s attention. Despite the sun having risen, she had the peculiar sense that the shadows clustering across the grasslands were darkening. Once more she scanned them as if a predator might be resting within them. But Jess forced away the unease; it was likely the bloodbath she was standing amidst that was responsible for the feeling, nothing more.

  Shifting into her human form, Jess eyed the circle of wolves until they hit upon her second. “Dearbhla.”

  Her lieutenant shifted, too. With her almond complexion and dark hair, she had more in common with the fallen than with the Rems. She even wore the same green and blue leathers that the Unseelie did. Something she had advised Jess and the rest of the clan about, knowing how important the camouflage was to blend into the woods and waters of the Shadowlands. Of course, Jess had jumped at the suggestion, not just for tactical reasons, but all too pleased to be rid of the white clothes.

  “We lost ten,” Dearbhla said, calling Jess’s attention to her. “And at least four will need tending to.” Her tone and expression were neutral, a soldier’s through and thr
ough. Already some of the wolves had shifted, and Jess could see them attending the wounded, using what they could, such as clothes from the dead to staunch their comrades’ bleeding.

  Remorse churned through Jess.

  Ten shifters are dead because of me. Because I commanded them here.

  The crumpled white bodies accused her and guilt needled a hole in her chest.

  But Jess only said, “Take them to the forest. I’ll join you soon.”

  She and Dearbhla had discussed the forest four miles south of here last night. It offered good coverage and would be a sufficient place to lie low for the pack while Jess spoke to Astra. It took them farther away from Lares, too. With luck, they’d avoid any more patrols. And they knew from Sunny’s Unseelie informant that the portal patrol they’d just eliminated shouldn’t be missed until dusk.

  Dearbhla’s green eyes were alight with intelligence and her stance ever alert. Jess imagined the snap of the Alpha command with which she’d ordered her, rippling through the fae like a current she couldn’t fight. “Yes, Alpha.”

  Jess watched Dearbhla as she turned towards the clan. It was strange that it didn’t seem odd to have her serving as her right hand. Dearbhla had been Lorenzo’s right hand, too. Many other inheritors of the Rem Alphahood would have demoted her, wishing to stifle any potential power plays that could arise from the wolf who had been interim Alpha between Jess and her hateful uncle. Moreover, Dearbhla had accompanied Lorenzo when he set Jess up for murdering her foster sister, Caylee. Memory stirred through Jess. When she’d descended into the human Netherworld, she’d witnessed Lorenzo murdering Caylee. Dearbhla had been the one to seize Jess in a chokehold until she passed out. In the Netherworld, Jess had watched Dearbhla touch Caylee’s savaged throat, then smear her blood across Jess’s face as she lay unconscious on the ground. But instead of feeling anger at the memory, Jess only felt guilt. Because, in the same way Dearbhla had had no choice in committing the atrocities for Lorenzo, she had none now. She and all the Rems here were bound to carry out Jess’s orders.