“Say you were wrong,” he repeats, his voice low and guttural and beastly. “Or I will squeeze the life out of you.” His grip tightens. Nails that were once short and neat now dig deep into my flesh like claws.
“You’re a monster.” I spit in his face. And knee him between the legs.
He yelps, letting me go for an instant, and I rush away toward the stairs. A shadow flies across the floor, and Jerry lands in my way, clothing stretched tight over bulging muscles too large to be human, long claws sprouting from thin veiny hands. He must have dropped the torch and jumped over me, all before I could take three steps.
Words flow out of me, quicker than thought. “If you kill me, the Night brothers will make sure you suffer for all eternity. You will stain your family name. You will—”
“Where’s the crystal?” he roars.
“Not here. But I can get it.” I’d never give it to him, but I need to make him think I will as I work out a plan to escape.
“He has it,” says Jerry. “The one with red-hair. I saw the both of you leave together.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then it’s too late. He’s at the courthouse by now.” Jerry bows his head, defeated. He talks slowly. “Do you know, Eve, the greatest pleasure a werewolf can feel?”
I shake my head rapidly, my entire body vibrating with fear.
“It is the hunt,” he says. “The chase of prey. Digging your teeth into a ripe, plump, juicy neck. Feeling the blood spraying into your mouth. Feeling the pulse of your query slow. Feeling the life leave them.” He looks up, eyes mad and hungry. “If this is to be my last day of freedom, then I shall feel the hunt once again.”
He pulls his head back and roars, muscles ripping out of his clothing, skin turning dark and matted with fur. All the charm of his face is torn away, replaced by a wet snout and purple lips, long ragged ears and too many barred teeth. He turns into the monster I know him to be.
And then I run.
A howl on the wind.
A beast on my heels.
I take the stairs. Not down, as I would have liked, for Jerry blocked that path. But up.
The torch, left at the base of the room, is dimming now and provides me little light as I climb. The staircase, which has railings but isn’t surrounded by walls, zigzags toward the ceiling, and I realize I will soon reach the roof with nowhere else to run. That won’t do. So I look out to my side, to the beams and pulleys holding up the church bell. Below, a shadow moves to the base of the stairs. He is taking his time, creeping in the darkness.
I carefully climb onto the railing, reaching out for a rope. My arms aren’t long enough. I’ll need to jump. And quietly, because I need Jerry to still think I’m on the stairs.
Gritting my teeth, I take one slow breath, and leap forward, hands fumbling clumsily in front of me. They find purchase, but slip, the coarse rope burning my skin as I tighten my grip to stop from falling. My descent slows and I hang near the ceiling, biting my lips shut though my entire body needs to scream.
The rope steadies. I allow myself one more breath. Slow. Quiet.
Then I pull myself higher and clasp one of the wooden beams holding up the church bell. My muscles straining, cold and restless, I climb up onto the beam, and lie flat as I crawl forward toward a rope at the other end. Then I can slide down and take the stairs.
One breath. Two.
I’m almost there.
The stairs behind me creak.
And I know he’s standing where I stood a moment ago.
Keep moving, Jerry. Just keep going up.
He doesn’t.
A sniff.
Another.
Like a hungry dog locked onto a scent.
I climb forward.
The torch is below me.
The rope within my reach.
I climb forward.
And something digs into my arm. Hot and sharp. A piece of splintered wood I hadn’t seen. I suck in my breath, burying all the pain blooming under my skin, and reach forward, my hand slick with blood, and grab hold of the rope.
Silence.
The quiet before the storm.
The moment before the predator’s leap.
I let myself fall, sliding down the rope, skin tearing from my palms in my haste.
The beast flies over me.
Landing where I was just a moment ago.
I made it, I think, for one ludicrous second.
And the wooden beam cracks under his weight.
The rope goes slack in my hands.
And we both fall to the ground.
I land with a crunch, my head hitting stone, my body collapsing near the burning torch. Spots blur my vision. Nausea fills my gut.
Two sets of claws land before me.
I am laying at the beast's heels.
Broken and weak. And suddenly, I am taken back to another time, another me, one who was beaten and choked. One who was left alone to weep on the floor and wonder what she did wrong. But that is me no longer.
The pain leaves me, burned away by a surge of strength. My mind is clear and light. My skin has forgotten the cold. And I stand, feet steady as rock, and I look the monster in the eye.
“You will never hurt me again,” I say. “Know that. Even if you kill me now. Even if you rip me apart. I will feel nothing for you. Not anger. Not sadness. Not fear. Nothing.” I take a breath. “I am not afraid.”
The beast tilts his head, as if he hears something I do not. And then he charges.
One bite.
Deep into my neck.
My throat closes shut with blood.
My eyes twitch.
All I think is…
Nothing.
The beast rears its head. Letting me go. And I fly across the room. Past the pillars. Out into the sky.
I am falling, and yet I know, I will not fall.
I know it with a certainty I have always had. A certainty for things yet to come.
And a flash overtakes me.
More powerful than I have ever felt.
I don’t fight it. Not as I have before.
And as the energy courses through my body, I realize, it is not just visions I have. Not just a feeling of what will happen. It is power. Raw, uncontrolled power.
It takes hold of me.
And I do not fall.
I fly.
I am me, and yet I am not. There are things I do, and things done through me. My voice is mine, and not my own.
"I am the woman in the wild!" I scream into the shrieking wind. As I speak, lightning flashes, the fire of the torch blazes, and the clouds swirl around me. The pendant from the kitsune blazes at my throat. I am suspended in mid-air. My skin and clothes glow white, smooth and clear of any blemish, illuminating the dark sky. Illuminating the werewolf, who stands at the edge of the cathedral, jaw slack with wonder.
"I am the blood sister of the moon! I am the call of the night and her secrets. The radiance left from a star. I am all that you need and more than you know. I am the hidden that shall now be found. I am the magic that you seek. I am the wild!"
The wind thrashes at my words, so hard it pushes the beast backwards. He growls, barring his teeth. He bends his knees, preparing to leap.
“Do not move,” I warn. “Do not try.”
He howls one last time.
And jumps.
He swipes his claws forward mid-air, aiming for my neck.
He is nearly at me, when I raise my arm, and a gale of wind strikes down from above, so fierce and quick, it draws the clouds toward it like a tornado, and sends the beast falling down.
He does not land smoothly.
One might say, he does not land at all.
His body hits the tip of a gargoyle wing.
And the stone pierces his flesh, bursting from his chest.
I don’t recall the gargoyle wing being there. It wasn’t there last I looked.
But perhaps I’m wrong. I’m not myself right now.
I am the radiance of a star, burn
ing away. And as the energy fades, I glide back toward the tower. The power is gone before I find my footing, and I collapse, not quite on solid ground. I reach to grab the edge.
Someone grabs me first.
Strong arms pull me close.
“I’m here,” he says, his warmth seeping into my body. “I’m here.”
And I drift away.
And dream of nothing.
The Fire
Through love, burning fire becomes pleasant light. ~ Rumi
My consciousness comes and goes in waves. I'm aware only of strong arms carrying me through the streets of the Otherworld, of Liam's voice alternating between chastising me for my foolishness, cursing himself for leaving me, and offering words of comfort. All of this comes in fragments, until it’s as if I’m with a different man altogether each time I awake.
Liam is a man at war within himself.
There is no winner in a war against yourself.
The storm around us grows in fury and hail the size of snowballs falls from the sky, the temperature dropping dangerously fast.
I shiver, my body convulsing without guidance from me in its attempt to warm itself.
Liam curses and a warmth spreads through me, blazing through his skin and into mine, fighting the chill that's settling into my frigid body.
When darkness overtakes me once more, I see Jerry's face, his anger and hatred, his desire to see me suffer even at his own demise.
And when I open my eyes again, I see the golden eyes of Liam studying me thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.
This time I feel more-clear headed, better in control of myself. Like I can actually keep my eyes open for longer than a few second, despite the pounding in my skull.
"Where are we?" I ask, trying to sit up and failing miserably.
"Move slowly," he says. "You've been through a lot."
He offers the support of his arm to prop me up, and I see we are in his bedchamber. A fire warms the space, dancing in shadows off the walls.
A familiar purr brings a smile to my face as Moon nudges against my leg and then curls up next to my lap. I pet the fur ball. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I tell my cat.
Liam snorts. “The beast wouldn’t shut up. Howled outside my door for hours on end until I finally let him in. He can’t stand me, but he wouldn’t leave your side.”
I give Moon extra love for that level of loyalty and devotion.
"What happened?" I ask, my mouth dry and thick.
Liam hands me a goblet of water and I sip it gratefully. He’s sitting on the bed next to me, his arm still supporting me, our bodies pressed closely together, the heat between us tugging at my gut, sending a tingle up my spine.
Our fingers brush against each other on the bed, and his pinkie covers mine. We both studiously avoid looking at our fingers, but my every nerve is focused on how his finger feels brushing against mine.
"What happened?" he asks.
I search my memories, but it's all a bit fuzzy. "Jerry. He… he tried to kill me."
Liam's jaw clenches, and he nods. "He must have followed us from the courthouse."
"He's dead," I say. It's not a question. I remember the sound he made, a last, thin exhale as life left him. The last sound he’ll ever make.
"Yes." Liam brushes hair out of my eyes and examines my face with one hand, while keeping the other on the bed touching mine. “How do you feel? Something… something happened to you. I came at the end, but for a moment I saw. You glowed like the moon.” He looks almost frightened.
"I don't know,” I say. “I still can't entirely remember." And then I suck in my breath as more details come back to me. "What happened in court? Did the judge see the memory of Jerry covered in blood?"
My heart beats frantically against my chest as I realize we need to get back, to tell the others what happened. But Liam moves his hand to cover mine, our fingers intertwining, the heat between us growing—and this time it has nothing to do with his Druid powers.
"The trial is over,” he says. “The jury has reached a verdict and my brothers are at court now to hear it. I gave them the Memory Catcher in time.” His lips curls in a smile. “Though apparently there had been a delay. Something about a dryad running naked through the courtroom. She got away though, her face unseen.”
I chuckle lightly, but it hurts my ribs and turns into a groan.
Liam stiffens at the sound of my pain. “I came back for you as soon as I could,” he says. “I brought you home, and Matilda sent word to the court of your altercation with Jerry. She explained, in great detail, how you acted in self-defense.”
I pause. “But if you only arrived at the end, how could you know what happened?”
A playful smile crosses his lips. “I may have told the enforcers I saw the entire attack. With your previous testimony, and the memory of Jerry covered in blood, it was not hard to convince them of your innocence. You will, however, have to answer some questions eventually. The Enforcers will need your first-hand account.”
I nod. "So the court saw the memory?”
Liam nods. "They know everything."
"So they have to find Dracula innocent, right?"
"It does seem likely, though you never know until the end. It's just the way of things." He shrugs like it doesn't matter, but I know it does. It matters in so many ways.
"What will you do?" I ask. "When the sire bond is broken?" I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.
"I do not know," he says, turning away from my gaze. "There is much we need to consider."
Is he thinking of me, I wonder? But his eyes are far away. Fixated on the fire. There is someone else tugging at his heart. And I think back, to all the things Liam has said these past months. I took this case for Mary. I was her healer.
“You were more, weren’t you?” I ask hesitantly.
“What do you mean?”
“More than her healer.” I place a hand on his face and pull it back to me gently. "The baby. He was yours, wasn't he? You weren't just helping Mary deliver her baby. You were helping her deliver your baby."
His eyes glisten with unshed emotion and he nods. "Babies," he says, in such a whisper I almost don't hear him.
"Babies?" I ask, sucking in a breath, thinking of Mary's last wish. That her babies would be protected. "There was more than one?"
He nods. "Twins. I… "
He pulls away from me and stands, pacing back and forth nervously. Cold rushes in where his warmth once existed and I find myself missing having him close.
I take another sip of water and place my goblet down, then slowly rise, pacing myself so as not to pass out. I take a step towards him, then another, until I have reached him.
"Liam. What happened?" I keep my voice soothing and calm, like I would if talking to a wild animal. He has that power in him, that wild, untamed madness that all the Night brothers have so much of.
"I was too late," he says, his voice breaking. "I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. When I showed up, she was already dead, covered in blood, the baby killed. It was a massacre. It took me a moment to realize…” he sucks in his breath, then lets it out in one long, slow exhale before continuing. Each word costs him a piece of his soul to say. “She was still in labor."
It’s my turn to suck in my breath. I had several theories, but this wasn’t one of them. I reach for his hand, taking it in mine, my icy fingers thawing at his touch, as our fingers once again intertwine. I stay still and silent, creating the space he needs to tell his story.
"She was pregnant with twins. She didn't want anyone to know. Didn't want to jinx it. She said she'd had nightmares that one of the babies died. So she refused to speak about the children to anyone but me." He pauses. “We weren’t close, Mary and I. Not really. Our time together was one of passion, but little else, and each time I regretted it. Still, for some reason she trusted me. Trusted me with the truth above all others.” With his free hand he runs his fingers roughly through his wild auburn hair. "I…I deliv
ered my daughter into the gore of her mother and brother's deathbed. And then I ran. Like a coward, I took her and I ran, telling no one."
His grief breaks him, and I pull him into a fierce embrace. His arms wind around my waist as mine wrap around his neck, and he presses his body into me, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his tears drenching my shoulder as his sobs tear free from him.
The pain he’s been holding in and using to feed his rage pours out of him, and I catch it all, staying strong enough for the both of us so that he can break, just for a moment.
I don’t speak again until his body stills and his breathing returns to normal. Then I ask the burning question on my tongue. "Liam, where's the other baby now? Where's your daughter?"
"She's somewhere safe," he says, pulling back from me to wipe his eyes and compose himself. “Somewhere Dracula wouldn't find her. She is being cared for well. Better than I ever could." His face hardens, and he looks at me. "If Dracula ever finds out about her, he’ll kill her."
I swallow, believing him. "We will keep her safe.” I say, knowing it’s presumptuous to assume he wants or needs my help in this matter. But also knowing it’s the right thing to say. The necessary and true thing to say. However it happened, whatever it might mean, the Night family has become my family. I will not abandon them to the darkness that lurks so closely at their heels.
“Liam,” I say with all the tenderness in my heart, “you must know you were not a coward. No man should ever be put in the position you were in, and yet you delivered your daughter, you saved her and kept her safe. You did what Mary would have wanted. You were brave. You were your daughter’s hero.”
He flinches at my words. "I am a danger to her. She's better off without me." He moves to turn away from me, but I stop him.
"She's not," I say. "I promise you, she's not. You have so much to offer her. To teach her. To give her. Starting with your love. She needs her father. Trust me. This comes from a girl who would give anything to have her own father back, even for a day.”
This softens him, but it's not enough. I know I need to show him the truth of himself. “You're so deeply enmeshed in your own self-hatred you can't see past it. But you're only seeing the shadows, not the light. There is light in you, Liam. In all four of you. And yes, there is darkness, too. But that's true of everyone. We all carry within us the entirety of existence. The light and the dark. The noble and the ignoble. Sometimes we have to walk in the shadows, but we must always strive to come back to the other side. Your daughter needs you to find your way back. Your brothers need you.” I pause, hesitating, assessing my own feelings, and then I speak, knowing it is the truth. “And I need you.”
I Am the Wild (The Night Firm Book 1) Page 20