Gregor The Overlander Novels & Stories

He pointed out a large davenport. I just nodded, and he started walking out of the house. I let myself sit on the couch and waited. After a few minutes of being comfortable on the settee, I heard footsteps outside and opened the door. I saw Alarick holding the lead rope of a sorrel horse. “What is with the horse?” “We’ll ride this horse,” he replied and hopped on. I nodded and sighed. I thought werewolves can run faster than horses?

Rolph stepped toward me, but Xander stepped between us. I shook my head. "No, I don't think that's possible." A crease formed between my eyes as I studied him. "Where are you from? My pack was decimated." He nodded. "Yes. That was The Skyefrost Pack, correct?" I nodded. "How did you know that?" He nodded toward the grimoire. "That is the Book of Elders, the grimoire of your people, is it not?" "Yes," I said, dragging out the word. "Why?"

Lucas spoke up, the hard look in his eye sending his cousin off silently. It took everything Chloe had to suck air into her lungs and not sink to the ground when Lucas took just a few dominating strides towards her. Being werewolf blessed Chloe with supernatural senses and yet the shadows of night and light of the moon only sharpened Lucas’ features even more. There was something wild and yet put together in everything about Lucas. A true apex predator who had fixed his sights on his latest prey.

The fourth piece arrived at sundown. It was not a scout report or a formal communication or a pack delegation. It was a single wolf arriving at the broken eastern gate on foot. Exhausted,unarmed. Clothing torn from movement through rough territory for many hours. Gregor of Greyspire. He stood at the broken gate with Darius's enforcers surrounding him and his hands open and his face carrying everything the last forty-eight hours cost him. "I want to make a formal account," he said. "Of everything Dorian Vane told me and

"**The Devourer can't truly be destroyed.**" Silence fell over the sanctuary. Nyxar's face hardened. "What do you mean?" "It has to be healed." Even Orion stared in disbelief. "Healed?" Aiden nodded. "It became the monster it is because the world kept feeding it fear, hatred, and despair." Fenrir shook his head. "That's impossible." "No," a calm voice interrupted. Everyone turned to see that the Elder Wolf had returned. Beside him walked seven enormous silver wolves, each bearing ancient markings that matched one of the Seven Guardians. The Elder looked at Aiden with quiet pride. "The child has seen the truth."

"Cal, when you shifted... tell me everything." "She cares deeply for us," Lyra observed approvingly. "True friendship." I picked up my coffee and told her about the pain and joy of the transformation, the incredible feeling of running on four legs through the moonlit woods, the white dress that somehow survived the shift intact. I told her about Anya and Alric's shock at my golden coloring, about the legends and prophecies surrounding golden wolves, about the fact that I was apparently some kind of once-every-200-years anomaly.

“I think these folks here have a bone to pick with you.” Gregory’s face twisted. “Wait. Wait, I—I can make this right. Whatever you want. Money? A title? I’ll step aside—” “No,” Frederick said. “You’ll kneel. Before the ones you destroyed.” The rogues didn’t wait for a command. They moved as Gregory shifted into his wolf, attempting to make a run for it. The rogues followed suit and he barely made it outside before they charged him. One by one he was able to keep them off, but eventually they overran him. The growls echoed through the hangar. And I stood there, silent, watching it happen. Not with mercy. But with understanding. Some monsters don’t deserve cages. They deserved to be hunted.

he stopped, shutting his eyes. “But what? Answer me!” “But… there are dangers along the way.” “Dangers? What dangers?” I demanded of him. The doctor turned his gaze toward the roof. “Wild wolves, rogue werewolves and the cold.” “The cold? I’m not scared of the cold. I am not scared of rogue werewolves either or wild wolves.” I could hear Lilith's heartbeat as I said those words. Each word made her heart skip a beat as her face twisted, and she frowned more, the next deeper than the first. She began to pace around and would not stay still.

It is such a huge relief for her that even up to this time, the name of his late father has been helping her get through things. “We don’t really have any room left for another werewolf like you, but I can arrange a few things. Follow me!” Engulfed with an honest feeling of solace, April Rose trailed closely behind the tall woman as she led the way. She had to take giant leaps in order to keep up with Foxglove’s huge, giant steps. In April’s mind, she was already asking, How did Miss Foxglove predict that she was a werewolf when she hasn’t even mentioned anything yet? Could she be some sort of a psychic? Or perhaps she’s a werewolf herself too, and she caught my scent, she thought.