Johnathan took her hand. “Alyse, I won’t let them bind me. I won’t.”
Her lip quivered. “Just wait, John. Wait for Vic. We can still survive this.”
“What if he doesn’t make it in time?”
“He will,” Alyse hissed.
The wagon rocked to a stop. Johnathan looked up at the gaping mouth of the rift, far larger than a simple tear in the air. It was a wound, twice as wide as he was tall. A thousand bloody shades writhed beneath the distended fleshy membrane, strained to the breaking point. Any moment the thin barrier would burst and unleash the incorporeal demons of the Nether. Free to construct grotesque bodies of bone, branch, and bracken, like the horned Cernunnos, who watched their approach on the grisly throne Johnathan glimpsed in his warped vision. He sat beside the throbbing rift, a demonic usher, bathed in firelight. As if greeting them, the flames whipped to a frenzy in their braziers stationed around the rift, beacons to those within. They were out of time.
Johnathan didn’t know what to expect. A bloody brawl between the horned Cernunnos and the Society agents? He doubted Evans would come unprepared for this encounter. Johnathan had barely begun to scratch the surface of this mystery, this realm, but those new inner instincts recognized Cernunnos, sensed the bond between them like an invisible chain around his neck. This was the being who orchestrated the bargain with Nathaniel Fairchild, Johnathan’s anchor and current master on this plane.
“This is not good,” he whispered. The Society agents crawled at the edge of the clearing, a hive of ants kicked into action. Johnathan watched, incredulous, while they broke out tripods, mounting crossbows and readying their horrid silver nets. Evans strolled through the line, his gaze fixed on the demon. They intended to shoot it? As if bolts would be anything but an annoyance to a being of that size?
Cernunnos growled, rising from his throne of cobbled bones beside the rift. Johnathan saw what he’d missed before, the pieces of the grisly centerpiece that were fresher than others, still encased in their mortal flesh. He recognized the rotting face of Mrs. Fairchild, the back of her skull cleaved off.
Alyse pressed against his side. “That’s what Mr. Fairchild bargained with? What kind of idiot would do that?”
“A selfish one,” said Johnathan.
The air rippled when Cernunnos moved toward them, heated by the horned entity’s presence. His nostrils flared, venting clouds of white steam through the midnight-hued air. The ground blackened beneath his stumplike feet, each footstep marked by the orange glow of embers. Johnathan couldn’t look away, mesmerized, tethered to the creature in every vein, every nerve, hooked to the bone.
“John, look at me,” whispered Alyse. “Don’t look at it.”
How could he not? Cernunnos was glorious. Cernunnos was everything. He would kneel before the dark god in utter supplication. He would hunt for Cernunnos. He would kill for Cernunnos.
“Fire,” said Dr. Evans.
The whistle of crossbow bolts sung through the air, snapping Johnathan from his reverie. He screamed as they sank into Cernunnos, the silver-tipped heads embedded deep with mortal-wound precision.
But Cernunnos was not mortal. He crashed to his knees, the ground vibrating from the impact, and he bellowed his rage at these fools. He would show them the power of the Nether, strip the flesh from their bones while they cried out their final agony. His intent, his very thoughts, pounded into Johnathan’s mind.
Johnathan clutched the bars tight, mindless of the silver that burned his hands. He screamed for Cernunnos to come no closer. To flee.
The great beast shook his head, struggling to rise and meet his foes.
Dr. Evans stepped forward and leveled an odd-looking pistol Johnathan had never seen before at the center of Cernunnos’ forehead. He pulled the trigger while Johnathan called to his master.
The flash and boom broke his senses. Johnathan reeled, a horrid ringing in his ears, the world a mass of blurred shapes that slowly dissolved to Alyse’s frightened face. Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear the words.
Johnathan shook his head hard. The world sharpened.
“He killed it,” Alyse cried.
Johnathan stared in shock through the bars of the cage. Cernunnos lay slumped on the ground, its skull-mask shattered into a mass of dark bloody tissue and fragmented bone. His gaze locked on Cernunnos’ chest, relieved by the subtle lift and fall.
“He lives,” whispered Johnathan.
But not for long.
Dr. Evans planted one boot on Cernunnos’ chest, that terrible weapon aimed at the Great One’s throat. Every muscle in Jonathan’s body tensed at the sight of his master in danger, until something inside him snapped.
A guttural rumble rolled up through Johnathan’s chest.
“John?” Alyse thrust herself back against the bars of the cage.
Johnathan barely registered her presence. The pit of heat inside him ignited. His veins burned beneath the skin as fire crackled through his blood. The air in his lungs was a bellows to the great heat, fanning the flames until smoke streamed from his mouth.
“Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. The pack draws near.” Evans observed Johnathan with rapt attention, fervor in his gaze. The moment swelled, the silence that fell after the sound of the battle horn.
Johnathan’s skin was too tight. Cracks riddled the taut surface of his hands, his forearms, that pulsed with an orange glow.
“That’s it, boy. Let it come.”
“You heartless bastard!” Alyse’s voice broke the silence. “He’s one of your men. How could you do this to him?”
Johnathan turned towards her voice, pulled by the crumbling part of him that clung to humanity by the fingertips.
“I do what needs to be done,” said Evans. “You’re about to witness one of our greatest triumphs in the battle for mankind. Sadly, it shall be the last sight you see, but take heart that your death will gift our dear boy a human form once more.”
“You self-important, pompous ass,” Alyse shrieked at him.
“And the world will suffer one less sharp-tongued female,” sneered Evans.
Their banter broke off at the first ragged howl echoing through the surrounding woods. Johnathan watched, detached, as Alyse cowered in the corner, a flicker of real fear on her face. That small struggling part of him wondered why her death would gift him humanity.
A frozen wedge drove through the fiery haze of his thoughts, cool clinical notes from the Prospective side of his mind. He hadn’t transformed when he woke from the fever. He should have. All evidence pointed to the contrary, except they were attacked, and whether he intended or not, he took a human life in the form of Sykes. Murder was the key to staying human?
“What a bloody awful catch,” he muttered.
Alyse gasped out a laugh, a sad broken sound that gave him a pang of guilt. He was the reason she was in this situation.
“There you are,” she said.
He wasn’t certain how long he could hold on like this. He prayed it would be long enough because he knew what was coming. “When I tell you to,” he said, turning to the woman who had become a friend, “I want you to run.”
“I’m not—I can’t leave you like this, John.”
“Yes, you will. Now, I need the coin. Give it to me.”
“Dammit, no—”
“Please, Alyse.” He dropped his head to whisper for her ears alone. “We both know it’s up to me. They will shoot you down, even if I can manage to get you out.”
“Vic. Will. Come.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
His mouth worked, tasting the lie on his tongue, but he had little choice. “Vic isn’t here, Alyse.”
The truth was that he could smell Vic, stalking along the edge of the clearing, his scent a mix of spices, intoxicating even at this distance. It surprised him how easily he picked that scent from memory.
And Vic wasn’t alone.
The pack circled the woods, a dozen Hellhounds summoned to protect their fallen master. The first saunter
ed through the tree line, a nightmare come to life, coal black fur over an asymmetrical frame. Her eyes burned with twin flames while her maw overflowed with too many teeth. Johnathan knew it was a female. They were all females.
This one paused in the shadows of the braziers with a soft whine. It hurt to look at her, the sacrificial lamb.
“Take it down,” snapped Evans.
Bolts punched into her body, silencing her yelp. A keening sound rose up Johnathan’s throat.
Alyse looked horrified. “They’re going to kill them all?”
Johnathan’s control hovered on a razor’s edge.
“They’ll keep one,” he choked out.
Evans wanted to make the Hellhounds servants of the Society. He would ensure a legacy by keeping a breeding pair.
A familiar ugly hum vibrated up his arm as Alyse slid the coin into his palm. She leaned her head against his shoulder, a sweet familial gesture. “I’ll hold his arms while you rip out his throat,” she said.
He kissed her forehead. “Never change, Alyse.”
“Right now,” she whispered, “I just hope I live.”
Cernunnos’ hand lifted from the ground and fell with the finality of a judge’s gavel. Johnathan turned Alyse’s face into his shoulder when the second hound sailed out of the darkness and closed her jaws on an agent’s face.
Evans barked orders to stand and fight, but the hounds had their orders. They sent their weakest to distract and to die while the others circled their targets, their attack precise and planned, with the addition of a last-minute ally—the enemy of their enemy.
Hounds and agents ignored Vic’s sleek shadow slipping through the fighting pairs. Johnathan had to protect the only two people he cared for anymore.
It was now or never.
He sat Alyse aside and gripped the bars. The pain ate away his control in increments. His bellow held a feral edge, but the bars bent, just wide enough for a slip of girl and her voluminous skirts to escape through to freedom.
He reached for Alyse, alarmed by the blackened tips of his fingers. “Off you go,” he rasped.
She looked stunned at first but moved once she saw that Vic was there to catch her. The vampire clutched Alyse to him, brushing his lips against the girl’s temple in a gesture of personal reassurance.
Vic stared over Alyse’s shoulder at Johnathan, his expression stark. He reached for Johnathan, silver gaze intent. Vic could spirit them both away, leaving the Hellhounds and Agents to their battle. Johnathan wanted to allow it, but then he would tear them apart with a Hellhound’s teeth.
Johnathan wrenched the gap in the bars back together and collapsed, a mass of pain. “Go.”
Vic clutching Alyse tight to his side and swore, staring at Johnathan with agonized longing. “John, no, please—”
“I can’t stop it,” Johnathan gasped out. He needed Vic to run, to know the one he’d come to love escaped Evans’ grasp.
Alyse struggled to look at him, the realization of his trickery plain on her face.
“No, John, don’t! Come with us! Vic, please!” she fought Vic’s grasp, but he lifted her into his arms, and after one last glance over his shoulder, ran.
Johnathan watched them vanish into the darkness, his heart heavy. He knew, and Vic knew, they couldn’t stop this transformation. Surrounded by the cacophony of battle and death, the final shreds of Johnathan’s humanity evaporated like so much smoke.
Johnathan fell forward as his spine curved up and up, the angle so sharp it crunched his ribs and stole his ability to speak, to scream. The coin fell from his grasp and rolled straight through the bars. It continued to roll, a glint of gold in the carnage until it spun, a flicker and flash in the dark, and toppled into the pool of blood around the first Hellhound that died.
Tight, too tight, his skin crackled and curled away like burning parchment. He shook himself, the remains of his former shape rolling free in a rain of ash. The world was bathed in a blood-colored lens, marred by bright white flares, living heat. He prowled the length of his cage, a low growl in his throat. He was surrounded by poison.
Lydia Fairchild emerged from the shadows, her scent sweet as honey with a hint of delicious rot. His gaze swung to her, the instincts of his new flesh stirring at the sight of her. She was a promise whispered in the night, a packmate, made for him, another creation of the master’s will. Her gaze sought him out while he watched her.
She moved on human feet, running toward him. He should want to reclaim a male’s form for her, but the stirrings withered as quick as they formed. She was just a girl, an innocent, and she was not what he wanted.
The human who pinned their master to the ground stepped into her path. He called to a trio of men who threw a net of silver wire on the female. Johnathan barked a challenge. He would tear out the human’s throat for the insult to one of his kind. Kill all who challenged his master! He would—
A vampire slammed against the bars. “Johnathan!”
He jumped back with a yip. His mind recoiled in confusion, the duality of his personality warring with itself until he inhaled spice and snow. The mating heat that had failed to ignite at the sight of a ready female blazed to life in the presence of the vampire. His desire for Vic doubled, tripled, to what he’d known before until he groaned. An instinct to claim and to serve throttled Johnathan, unable to reach the vampire through the barrier of silver. The female whined in pain, a piteous sound that pierced through his ramping desires.
Vic glanced over his shoulder and read the scene. “I’m going to gut that man.”
Not if Johnathan got there first.
Vic turned back to him, calm as ever. “I’m going to let you out.”
Johnathan’s ears flattened against his skull, more of his humanity pushing through. It wasn’t safe to do that. Johnathan wasn’t safe. He dare not hurt his beautiful vampire.
He crouched down on all fours, head bowed.
Vic gaped at him. “Don’t get cold feet on me now. Come on!”
Movement shifted over Vic’s shoulder. Johnathan surged to his feet with a snap of teeth, but the warning wasn’t enough. Evans drove a long blade through Vic’s back, shoving the point hard and fast into the wooden corner post of Johnathan’s cage.
“Pinned twice in one night,” said Evans. “Your luck is shit, vampire.”
Vic gasped through his teeth. This close, Johnathan could see how pale he was, how weakened the first fight had left him. He turned his face toward the cage.
That gray gaze held Johnathan’s, and raw excitement shivered through him. The vampire grabbed the bottom frame of the cage with one hand and tore the wall of bars free. The show of strength surprised Evans, who took a single step back.
“Get him,” said Vic.
Johnathan launched at his ex-mentor. This time, there was no barrier to stop him.
The coppery tang of blood gushed into his mouth, where his teeth sank into Evans’ throat. He shook him like a terrier with a rat. Releasing the pulp and shredded flesh, he left Evans to choke on his own blood.
The transformation was immediate. Bones cracked and shifted. Fur shrank and smoothed away into human skin. The blood-red world faded to muted shades of gray while the fire inside Johnathan smoldered down to the coals. It left its mark on him in powder-burn traces along his more prominent veins.
Sucking in great gulps of air, Johnathan forced himself to stand, keenly aware he wore not a stitch. He yanked the blade from Vic’s chest.
Vic grunted and rubbed at the wound, already closing but much slower than it should have. Johnathan forgot to cover himself, giving Vic more than an eyeful.
Despite their situation, Vic spared a moment to ogle Johnathan’s bloodied, naked state. “Good heavens, you are an absolute delight.” He peeled off his outer jacket and offered it. “You owe me a shirt and a coat, my love.”
Johnathan pinched his lips together and gratefully tied the garment around his waist. A frontal flap was better than nothing.
“Uh, John,” said V
ic, his voice wary.
Johnathan glanced up to find the battle in full swing. While he’d carried out the dark deed of dispatching Evans, the hounds had rallied around their master, who’d recovered enough to join the fray. Cernunnos bellowed, the sound tugging at Johnathan’s bowels. He almost ran headlong into the bloody conflict when Vic grabbed his hand.
“We have to get out of here.”
Johnathan looked at him, willing to follow the vampire anywhere, but they couldn’t leave yet. Vic knew this, despite his words. Together, they stood and watched, mere observers in a conflict that went beyond them. The hounds now attacked as a pack, giving an advantage to their lesser number. Three or four of them tore into a man at once, their bodies shifting back to feral females that seized whatever weapon they found on the ground, be it blade or branch. They cut down the shocked agents with vicious efficiency until the change twisted their bodies again. The far greater threat was Cernunnos himself. The demon boasted several grievous wounds, but his rage overwhelmed the remaining agents, tearing them apart in a spray of blood and innards with his clawed hands. Their sizable contingent of a few dozen men rapidly dwindled under the brutal assault. Vic and Johnathan stood hand in hand, an unwilling audience to the absolute carnage but removed from it.
The screams and wails of dying men eventually tapered off, the buzzing hum of the rift taking precedent. Cernunnos knelt on the ground, his rage spent, while his life blood continued to ebb from his wounds.
The victorious hounds circled their master, his master, watching Johnathan.
A blush crept up the back of Johnathan’s neck. Several of the hounds had regained their human forms, not a scrap of clothing between them. Demon servants or not, it didn’t seem proper to look at the naked young women. Never mind that the Society agents lay in pieces, scattered on the forest floor.
Unbelievably, Evans was still alive, though his death sounded in each gurgling breath. His defiant gaze met their approach.
“They’ll…hunt…you…down.”
The faint words bubbled up through the blood in his mouth, but Johnathan heard them well enough. He could sense the differences now, the gifts of the creature who slumbered beneath the faint veneer of human skin. He hated it.
A Bargain of Blood and Gold Page 26