Free Winter of the Wolf by Cherise Sinclair Page B

males, and only werebears liked being stared at.
    “If I could have your attention.” When Calum’s quiet voice cut across the conversations like fangs through a soft rabbit, people stiled. “After the deaths of Chris Anderson and people stiled. “After the deaths of Chris Anderson and Nancy Ming, I requested two more cahirs for our territory.” He nodded toward the back. “Daonain, welcome Seamus O’Donnel, known as Shay, and Zebulon Damron, known as Zeb. Both wolves.”
    After the applause and welcoming cals ended, the Cosantir continued. “It’s not common knowledge, but they’ve each kiled more helhounds than any other cahir.” We have ? After the first few, he’d lost count.
    “They know their business,” Calum said. “That business is what they wil discuss tonight.”
    Zeb grunted like someone had hit him. “Fuck.”
    “Shay.” Calum’s gaze targeted him. “Tel the Daonain about helhounds. Assume we know nothing. Better you sound patronizing than we miss vital information.” As Shay straightened, Zeb said under his breath, “Better you than me.”
    Shay shrugged. He didn’t mind talking, but where should he start? “Fae shapeshifters and humans interbred creating us, the Daonain.
    “Helhounds are more of a mixture. First, an insane Fae-shifter in reptile form mated with a demon.” He snorted. Talk about disgusting sex. “The offspring raped a human female creating the first helhound—a mix of demon, Fae, and human.”
    Many in the crowd looked appaled.
    “Like us, helhounds have animal and human forms. Unlike us, in human form, they can occasionaly impregnate humans.
    The helhounds would die out otherwise, since only males are birthed.”
    Murmurs told him some information was new to them.
    Being isolated, the Cold Creek residents had been lucky so far. But now civilization encroached, and where humans went, demonkin folowed. “In both forms, the helhounds smel like rotting meat—”
    “And moldy oranges,” Zeb added.
    “Tel us about their forms,” urged the older female who owned the diner.
    Shay set a foot on an empty chair and leaned his forearms on his thigh. “The light-hating demon heritage means a helhound only trawsfurs to animal on new moon. It wil always shift at least once that night.
    The room went silent. An old guy with as many scars as Zeb growled, “They don’t attack if it’s not the dark of the moon?”
    “In helhound form. In human form, they’l rape, assault, or murder at any time at night.” His mouth tightened as he remembered one sickening night when he’d been too late to save a smal boy. “Demonkin feed off violent emotions. In animal form, it craves flesh. Although humans are good fodder, a shifter is like heroin, and the magic in our blood incites them to madness.” He stopped, his wel-worn grief a incites them to madness.” He stopped, his wel-worn grief a dul ache as he remembered how his brothers had been torn apart. “It won’t bother to attack a human if it scents a shifter.”
    “That means they could be living in our town. Could be anyone.” A middle-aged female’s shril voice escalated to hysteria. The scent of fear rose. Shay saw Calum straighten.
    “No.” Zeb’s flat, hard response silenced the room. “Use the brains the Mother gifted you. We can scent them in both their forms.”
    Several shifters eased back in their chairs.
    Surprisingly, Zeb continued. “They need the anonymity of cities. A helhound is born from rape. Around twenty, it first shifts and demon instincts take over. Since they don’t associate with each other, they don’t know their own history.” He frowned at Shay, obviously annoyed he’d been sucked into speaking.
    “And you were doing so wel,” Shay said, earning himself a dark look. “Once a helhound discovers a tasty shifter community, it wil return each new moon. Other nights of the month, one might show up in human.” He stopped, unable to think of anything to add.
    “Good background, cahirs.”