Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (35 page)

She set the herbs for dinner next to the
cooking pot and took a second bowl that they had been using for
holding the water to wash dishes and she proceeded to mash up the
berries that she had found into it.

She added a bit of water and a few pinches of
other ingredients, and took the bowl over next to the stream that
they had camped by. Very carefully she spread the goop out onto her
hair, running her fingers through the strands to make sure it
evenly covered her whole head, and then washed her hands in the
water. She let it set on her hair for some time before dipping her
head backwards into the frigid water to wash away the paste. The
cold water bit at her scalp and she shivered as it splashed onto
her, but she held fast to wash away every last drop. When it was
clean, she shook her hair to get rid of as much water as possible,
so that it would dry faster, and bundled her clothes around her,
jogging back to sit by the fire.

When the two men returned, Gryffon stopped
short in his conversation and tilted his head at her. “I could have
sworn you used to be blond,” he told her.

She giggled. “Well, I didn't want to cut it,
and I remembered Mila telling me how certain ink recipes could be
changed to use in your hair. I guess a lot of noble women do it to
cover their gray. I thought it would be a good disguise.”

“It certainly is different,” he said. He set
down the rabbit he had caught and looked her over.

“I think I prefer blond over brunette, but
you're right, you certainly don't look so much like you anymore.
Now we'll just have to think of something for me.”

“Too bad you can't grow a beard in a few
days,” Layna said smiling.

Gryffon looked thoughtful. “Maybe I could. I
could use a spell to speed growth. I would imagine that once I stop
the speed growing the magic would fade and all that will be left is
a suddenly much longer beard. If we could just reapply the
principles of healing, it seems much the same.”

They spent the rest of the evening working on
Gryffon's beard, and they added a few finishing touches to both of
them. In the end, even Charles gave a nod of approval that while
they wouldn't fool anyone who knew them, they no longer resembled
the pictures that were circulating the countryside.

Despite these disguises, they still stuck to
the game trails for their travel, only once stopping into a town to
buy supplies. They had seen evidence of the posters plastered
everywhere, and as they had bartered for grain they had seen a man,
obviously one of the ones that Charles had warned them about,
lurking the streets in search of them. His eyes had run them up and
down, and Layna had held her breath in trepidation, waiting for a
glint of recognition, but the gaze had quickly swept past them.
Jezebel was certainly intent upon finding them. Layna fervently
hoped that Gryffon's countrymen would be able to do something about
the evil that was plainly spreading across her country.

Weylyn, as she had named the hound, padded
along happily with them, surprising them by keeping up with the
horses' pace without even becoming winded. Layna found Weylyn's
company to be enjoyable, and both he and Charles were invaluable in
following the trails. Charles himself seemed to give her more
respect now than he had previously, and though she enjoyed it, she
found it strangely unnerving as well, as though he suddenly thought
of her as a whole other person. She couldn't help but wonder what
had made him think that she was one suddenly deserving of
respect.

CHAPTER 30

Jezebel paused as she heard a snippet of a
conversation ahead of her.

“Have you heard about the back alley
killings?” said a voice from around the corner.

“No,” answered a second, “what are they?”

“Well, apparently there's some crazy killer
on the loose that keeps taking vagabonds and other scum, and they
disappear never to be seen again. People would hardly notice except
that you can suddenly walk around the streets at night without
having to step over a drunken lout laying in the gutter.”

“And they haven't found any bodies?”

“Not a one,” the voice said soberly, “makes
you wonder what he's doing to them...”

“You know what else I've heard,” a third
voice joined in. “I've heard that there are hordes of magical
beasts being created and banded together to form armies that
they're going to start marching across the countryside and start
killing everyone in their path.”

“Why would they do that in their own
country?” asked one of the first. “That seems pretty
pointless.”

“Well, not if you're one of the lords who own
the land, and you want your neighbor's lot as well.”

“I think it's because of the war with
Treymayne,” said another which produced a snort from the first.

“There is no war with Treymayne, where have
you been?”

“Well,” the man backtracked, “there will be
soon. Haven't you seen all the signs that they're preparing for an
invasion? They want our land!”

“I dunno about that, but my wife's uncle
swears that he saw a wolf in the woods that was not natural. He
says it was three times as big as a normal wolf would be and twice
as fast. It was stalking him in the dark, and had him scared half
to death. He can deal with a normal wolf, but he said this one was
smart, tracking him all along even when he tried to lose it and
backtrack around behind it. He swears it would have taken him out
if he hadn't run into another hunting party and traveled with them
back to town. He only caught glimpses of the thing, but swears it
had bright red eyes, glowing in the dark watching him.”

“Why would something have glowing eyes? That
just makes no sense.”

“I don't know,” the voice was irritated now,
“but they're magical creations, who knows what's in the heads of
those crazy magic types.”

Jezebel listened to this conversation with
amusement. It was a group of peasants speaking to her driver, who
luckily for him was keeping quiet about the whole thing. Their talk
moved on to more mundane matters and Jezebel grew bored with it, so
she stepped out from around the corner where she had chosen to
stand when she first heard the conversation.

Her driver jumped at her sudden appearance,
but managed to keep himself together enough to open the door for
her. She gave him a sly little smile letting him know that she had
heard the conversation and he paled.

“To the country manor,” she told him, and she
noted with even greater amusement that he realized the irony of
this.
Because, of course, that is where I keep my own pack of
magical beasts.

This business about there being one in the
woods worried her, however. As far as she knew, she was the only
one with hellhounds. And as far as she had been informed, they were
all accounted for. Other than the four that had been sent after the
renegades, of course, but those should not have been running around
the woods here chasing after hunters. She may need to speak with
the man she had put in charge of the pack, and make sure he was not
keeping anything from her in order to try and save his own hide
after an unfortunate mistake.
Or else
t
he hounds
may be getting a treat tonight
.

They arrived at the manor shortly before
sundown, and Jezebel treated herself to a stroll into the paddock
where the hounds were kept. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to
be able to walk amidst the raving beasts and have them quiver at
her feet. They knew her as the one that caused them pain, but who
also gave them life, and in a heartbeat she could take it away.
They were only animals, but to them she was a god, and she reveled
in that fact. She moved among them, watching their behavior. She
gave one who had the audacity to meet her eyes and not move out of
her way fast enough a sharp kick in the ribs. It yelped in pain,
and scampered out from beneath her. She glared around at them. She
was tempted to retrace the runes, but she didn't really have time.
She had a whole volume of accounts still to sort through, and she
intended to go over it in detail.

She liked to play with numbers, move a number
here, conveniently erase one there, and voila! You could come up
with a whole new conclusion. The stipend that she had been
receiving for being on the Council was quite a bit more substantial
than the measly amount she was able to weasel out of her father.
But she was sure that if she just raised taxes a bit for the
peasants who didn't know how to use money anyway, she could make
herself quite a bit more.

She moved through the beasts, carefully
inspecting each one and then motioned to her overseer that he
should come to the edge of the fence. He came timidly over and
bowed to her, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the ground in
front of him. “Yes, my lady?”

“I think perhaps we should change their diet
a bit, a few are looking a bit too lean. Let's try to increase the
fat intake shall we?” The man nodded to her and she smiled.

She really was God to these creatures, she
chose when they ate, what they ate, where they could go, and really
everything about their lives, and still they groveled before her.
Such a wonderful feeling, and it will be so much more satisfying
when I have the country at my feet as well
. She exited the
paddock, carefully closing the lock behind her, and she went to go
search out the man in charge of the pack.

She found him knee-deep in deer as he dressed
out part of tonight's dinner for the hounds. “I heard some
interesting rumors today,” she commented to the man, who looked up,
startled at her voice.

“My lady,” he greeted her and waited for her
to continue.

“I heard,” she said, “that there may be a
hellhound on the loose. Might it be one of our little pack?”

The man was visibly taken aback, and there
was a quiver in his voice as he answered. “No, no, my lady. I have
kept perfect track of them, and can give you my word that none have
escaped here, other than the ones that you requested be sent to
your other manor.”

Jezebel watched him closely, weighing the
chances of his honesty before deciding that he seemed sincere.
“Alright,” she said finally, and the man relaxed. “But I want extra
precautions in place to ensure that none do, understand?” The man
nodded emphatically and Jezebel left him to his bloody work of
preparing their dinner.

She made her way into the house, and she was
in the midst of wading through a particularly dense section of the
financial overview when one of the servants knocked softly at the
door and informed her that she had a caller. Upon inquiry, she
found that it was her father.

She carefully put on a controlled expression
for him as she walked to the door, though underneath the fake smile
she was seething. She was angry that he would presume to come and
check on her here, as she had no doubt was his plan – no matter
what excuse he gave her. She hated the need to keep quiet about
knowing of his control until such time as he could be brought to
task for it and didn’t care to come up with a lie about what she
was doing out here.

When he entered, he admirably gave her no
excuses. As she greeted him, asking what the occasion was for his
visit he answered bluntly, “I'm here checking up on you. I've heard
some unsettling rumors that I hope you will put to rest.”

“Why, whatever type of rumors?” she asked
innocently, careful not to let her annoyance show.
The servants
better have had the wits to cover the evidence of the hellhounds
here
.

“I heard that you are acting in league with
the King to upset the balance of power in the government.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she
answered, relieved that it was not about the hellhounds, “the
balance of power is exactly as it should be.” He looked sternly at
her, obvious annoyance on his face at her reluctance to share her
actions with him and she said grudgingly, “Just because the King
has seen fit to make me his First Advisor, a position that I so
rightly ought to have, I would think you'd be happy that your
daughter is doing so well for herself.”

Her father sat solemnly for a moment. “Be
advised that I will not be able to get you out of this situation
should it go awry. Upsetting the delicate balance of power is a
dangerous thing to do, one that is likely to make you many powerful
enemies. You can't just do as you please all the time. Do not
underestimate the influence of those behind the scenes, who will
not approve of your disruption to their plans. Eventually all your
machinations will catch up to you and you will run out of luck. The
real power in this country is outside of sight and things are going
on that you can't possibly hope to comprehend. Thinking that you're
important simply because you were given a title is just foolish. I
don't know how I could have raised you to have turned out this
way.”

Jezebel was at a loss for words, and was
silent for a moment before answering icily, “Well, shame on you
then. I know far more than you think I do, Father, and that title
that you so belittle is one that is directly bestowed upon me by
the King so no matter what your feelings on it are I suggest you
show a little respect before you find yourself in some trouble. And
don't think you can control me with magic, Father, because it won't
work anymore. I have it on the King's own authority that you will
be coming to justice for the injustice you did to me. Maybe that's
really why you're having this little temper tantrum; because you've
finally realized that I've outgrown you and you can't use me like
one of your little puppets anymore.” Jezebel knew she was rattling
on, but couldn't help it.

Her father gave her a long look before
standing, and Jezebel felt a probe against her newly fortified
shielding. His face paled a bit as he realized that his previously
unbreakable bonds had indeed been broken and were now scattered in
the wind. She mentally berated herself for her weakness in
revealing this fact to him before she had meant to, but his
reaction pleased her nonetheless.