The sword of the lycanthrope has vanished, and with it the arcanist responsible for General Kensington’s demise. Separated from her comrade, Munwar Meek, Para is manipulated into a search of the more remote hamlets and towns. Her duty? To capture the arcanist before he creates an unspeakable evil.

Trouble brews in Delmar to the north, near the Rommel border. There is rumor of a plague that has beset an entire city, the only way to escape? Death.

Henry Sidgwick and Para make their way north, the whisper of werewolves setting their teeth on edge. When they meet up with their warrior friend, Munwar Meek, the tale of werewolves takes a frightening turn. They find themselves embroiled in a fight to save their own souls from a beast that stalks its prey in the light…

…and murders in the dark.

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Excerpt:

Mun pushed the still unlocked back door open with a single hand. Para and Henry stood back to let the warrior have the first step through. Para was only curious as to how the warrior would take to the sign of the place. Henry, she knew, wanted anyone but himself to go through into that house. She still hadn’t reasoned the why. Lycans didn’t come out in the day, so she didn’t know what else could be stressing the Sylvan. She doubted the fact it was an arcanist’s house they entered, because he never seemed too concerned with them.

“You want to go ahead of me?” Para asked the sylvan. Henry shook his head. “You want to wait out here, even though you’d be by your lonesome?” This time the sylvan frowned. “What? I’m only saying!” Henry stomped in after the warrior. It was all Para could do to keep herself from falling over with laughter at the dour expression on his face.

Once in the main room, Mun crouched to examine the dried mud of the wolf tracks that paced throughout the house. “These are quite large. Their temperament seems to differ from those we saw at the church.”

“Noticed that myself. Opinion?”

“They are wary. Cautious.”

“Or waiting.”

“Waiting?” Mun looked up. “For what?”

“Don’t know. It’s just another thing the sedate pace could mean.” Para gestured to the tracks throughout. “Though I didn’t see the larger imprint that was nosing around the church.”

“Larger? By how much?” Henry asked, his gaze darting around the room.

“Oh, not by too much. He could kiss Mun if he wanted.” Henry cowered next to the warrior. “For the love of the gods, Henry. What has gotten into you lately? You used to be filled to the brim with the adventurous spirit.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to be a lycanthrope!”

“You’re not going to be a lycan!” Para scoffed. “Do you think I would haul your sylvan backside all the way here if I was just going to let some crazed werewolf snatch you back to his pack? What would I get out of that? Nothing! So quit letting your mind run away with you and just focus on the mystery at hand. We have an arcanist and a cursed sword that is missing, remember?”

“Par.”

“What?”

“It is understandable, his fear.”

“Of course I know that, but it’s getting on my nerves.” She turned to Henry, who stared forlorn at his shoes. “No offense, and I’m sorry for barking at you. I would rather you keep accusing me of being funny than tripping over your cowering self.” Para tousled the sylvan’s hair and then scrunched her cap onto his head. “Here. Watch this for me while Mun and I go downstairs to the other door. You can stay at the top of the staircase. How’s that?” Henry gave a slow nod. “There’s a good lad.” Mun smirked when she passed him. “Oh stuff it.”