Salvation

by Tanith Frost

  Violet frowns at us. “Why would he keep that to himself? He could expose everyone, grant them the same advantage.”

  Miranda glances at me before she answers. “Lachlan is fond of his position,” she explains. “If he has an advantage that affords him a firmer grip on it and places him higher above the lower members of his clan, he won’t give it up easily.”

  I catch Violet’s eye and mouth the word greed. Her mouth twists in disgust.

  “Nice to know the enemy has weaknesses,” she mutters.

  “None we can rely on, though,” Miranda says firmly. “We can’t afford to assume anything. If there’s any chance of universal exposure, and given the fact that we don’t know how long it will take for the void in them to adjust to the island’s energies… I suppose we can’t afford to wait. The other teams will join us as they can, but we’ll have to go ahead without them.”

  Irene nods. “Better chance of us saving Derek and Jerome, too.”

  Miranda arches an eyebrow at her. “You told me they weren’t a factor in negotiations… something about them being ‘as good as dead already’? You said this was entirely about us needing your help.”

  Irene gives her a tight smile.

  There’s tension in the air that I doubt will fade even if the mission is an overwhelming success, but I’m pleased to see Miranda looking at Irene with what seems like respect. The odds of her not knowing Irene was bullshitting her are zero, of course. Miranda’s got to be a particularly difficult vampire to negotiate with, given her gifts. But Miranda let her lie about their motives and presumably gave the werewolves exactly what they wanted in exchange for their help.

  Interesting.

  “There are also the Maelstrom prisoners to consider,” I tell her. “So far the forecast is calling for cloudy days. That will slow Lachlan’s execution plans down, but if he has to wait too long, he might decide on a quicker method. If we don’t get in there, we’ll lose more than half the clan.”

  “You’re right,” Miranda says. “Very well, then. We should see what everyone else has come up with, though Irene and I have made some plans already. I’ve got surveillance teams heading into the city.”

  “What?” I ask. “Who? How?”

  Miranda smiles serenely. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

  Right. It doesn’t matter how much I do to help; I’m still a soldier. A grunt. At least it’s a step up from pawn.

  “We’ll head in tonight,” she says, and takes her seat at the table with Irene. “Irene has already contacted the wolves back at the sanctuary, and they’re on their way. We’re booking rooms in multiple hotels so as not to give Tempest an easy target should they realize we’re coming. The front entry to the Inferno is the only one open to us, so that’s what we’ll use—we can access the ground-floor bar from upper levels of the building instead of entering from the street, gain a bit of advantage that way. Stealth will be key, hence the need for surveillance. We’ll have to take down every sentry before they realize we’re there, then make our way in.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I ask.

  “Because this is going to be particularly dangerous for you,” Miranda says without hesitation. “It’s clear that Lachlan still wants something from you.”

  I let out a soft snort. “I believe it’s to get me back to Bethany’s lab so they can figure out how he can have what I have. But I don’t think he’ll hesitate to remove me from the equation if he can’t get it.”

  “Still, your presence might draw him out, assuming he’s still there at all. And if we can use that to—”

  A phone rings, cutting her off.

  The three of us look at each other.

  “Not me,” Irene says.

  I shake my head. “I don’t have one at the moment.”

  Miranda rises and moves toward the corner where her coat hangs on a hook, approaching cautiously, as though it might be a rattlesnake in her pocket.

  She pulls the phone out and purses her lips, then flips it open and presses a button. The rest of the world fades away as she sets it on the table between her and Irene. “Yes?”

  “Miranda.” My blood runs cold as Lachlan’s voice fills the room. “So good to hear you sounding so well. So strong. I’d heard you were recently unwell.”

  I sink to the couch and rest one elbow on the arm, my hand pressed over my mouth.

  “You should know better than to listen to rumours, Lachlan,” Miranda says. “Though I suppose you had a reliable source at the time, didn’t you?”

  He chuckles, and I shiver. “I did, indeed. Poor Viktor. Seems it would have been better for Maelstrom if everything had gone according to plan, doesn’t it? Viktor in power. No violence. No messy executions.” He pauses. “Tell me, is Aviva there?”

  “No.” Miranda gives me a sharp look. “How did you get this number?”

  “There are many within your clan who wish to see this end peacefully. It’s too late for most of them, of course, but some are being quite helpful.”

  My chest tightens, but then I remember—no one on the inside knows where she is now. Not Trent, not Raymond. The best anyone might manage is to send Lachlan on a wild goose chase to the location where she was hunting zombies, far from here.

  “There could be hope for all of them,” he says. “That is, if you meet my demands.”

  Miranda’s expression hasn’t changed since she answered the phone—eerily still, hard as stone. “And what are those demands?”

  I lean forward though I can hear just fine.

  “You surrender yourself to me. And I want Aviva and Daniel. No tricks, no traps.”

  “And in exchange?”

  “I show mercy to members of your clan who agree to fall in line.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Then let me finish.” His voice has taken on a hard, rough edge. “Those who don’t cooperate will still be executed, but they’ll meet their end at the point of a needle. No torture. No sunlight. No pain.” When Miranda doesn’t answer, he goes on. “Maelstrom is mine, Miranda. You had your chance here, and you threw it away. The question is, how much suffering are you willing to inflict on others simply because you’re a poor loser?”

  Miranda looks to me, and I shake my head slowly, confirming with my thoughts what she already knows—that he’s a liar, that he thrives on pain and manipulation, that he’ll take us into custody and make us watch as he betrays what he’s just promised.

  “I’ll need some time to consider your offer,” Miranda says.

  Lachlan sighs. “I knew you’d make this harder than it had to be. I’m going to make it very easy for you. Goodbye, Miranda.”

  He hangs up, and she closes the phone.

  “What does that mean?” Irene asks as she pulls her coat from the back of the chair and slips it on. She’s moving better than she was earlier. The warmth of the trailer must be doing her good.

  That’s when I hear it—the approach of engines, quickly joined by the scream of metal against metal.

  “The fences,” Miranda whispers. “Aviva, find the humans. See whether Odette can open that rift quickly.” She looks to Irene. “Your wolves. They’re not trained to fight in human form, are they?”

  Irene gives her a cold, even look. “You might recall that such training was not recommended under the sanctuary system. I’m certain they’ll hold their own in spite of that fact, though.”

  “Your disobedience is noted and appreciated,” Miranda tells her, sounding genuinely relieved. “Find them, prepare them. Retreat seems like the sensible option if there are more than a few enemies approaching, but if we can take them—”

  Clark bursts in. “Miranda, enemies. They’ve got the road covered. Cars’ll be useless for escape.”

  “How many?” Miranda pulls a long dagger from her left boot, sets it on the table, and checks the gun strapped to her thigh.

  I head for the kitchen and grab the big carving knife from the set the trailer’s seller included as part of the furnishings. F
limsy plastic-handled piece of shit, but it’s better than nothing. Violet hurries over, and I offer her another.

  Gunshots ring out outside. “Too many,” Clark says.

  “Through the forest, then,” I tell them. “Head toward the water. Look for broken branches to your right. There’s a path Taggryn used.”

  “You can take the lead,” Miranda says.

  “No. Running will do us no good if they’re following us.” I push open the big window at the back of the living room. “Go. Daniel and I are just bonuses for Lachlan. If he gets you, we’re done. You and Clark find the path, the rest of us will follow when we can.”

  She doesn’t argue though she looks pained as she follows Clark out the window.

  “You should go, too,” I tell Irene and Violet. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

  Irene nods at the door. “My pack is out there. That’s where I’ll go, too.”

  “Fuck’s sake,” Violet whispers. “I’ll get them.”

  Irene heads toward the door, and Violet follows. Short of tossing her pack leader out the window, I guess there’s not much else she—or I—can do.

  “Fine,” I say, “gather your pack, then find the path and get your wolves and as many vampires as you can out of here. I’ll meet you at the other end when the danger’s passed.”

  I kill the lights on my way out the door and hit the ground running, leaving the werewolves to do as they will.

  Lachlan didn’t send all of his troops, but he didn’t skimp, either. Three cars and a truck have made it through the gate, spilling out more than a dozen of Tempest’s vampires. Several more sets of headlights weave and bounce through the distant darkness beyond the gate, ready to give chase if any of our vehicles make it out. We’re outnumbered.

  But maybe not outpowered. My fire rises, and I feel it echoed in others nearby like the answering howls of a wolf’s pack.

  The stony ground outside the trailer has become a battlefield. The wolves’ van sits with its back doors thrown open, empty. The one who took wolf form earlier is now leaping at vampires, snapping and tearing and biting. A vampire close to me takes careful aim at the wolf. I launch myself at him and drive my knife into his throat, severing veins and nerves and tendons. It’s easy—like cutting through human flesh, not vampire. I still can’t sever his spine—not with two more vampires bearing down on me—but having no control over his head will certainly slow him down.

  More fire is better. Our secret weapon is working. Once the other werewolves arrive in town…

  I spin to face the others, blood-slick knife handle gripped tight. Jia takes one of Tempest’s number down with a heavy mallet to the forehead. As I’m facing off with another, a bullet catches her in the shoulder, throwing her to the ground.

  Jia lets out a long scream that morphs into hysterical laughter. “You fucker!” she yells, and bounces back to her feet. Then she’s off like a shot, seemingly as fast as the bullet that must have brought so much pain when it hit her.

  I could use a dose of that gift now. My body’s been healing, but it’s still stiff and aching from the beatings it’s taken over the past few days. I can ignore the pain or try to accept it, but I can’t draw strength from it as an Agonite can.

  My attacker swings a serrated knife at my face—much nicer than the one I’m using. I grab her arm in both hands and twist it behind her. She falls, and I catch a look of shock on her face. Lachlan wouldn’t have sent anything but his best if he knew Miranda was here, and this one obviously isn’t used to experiencing anything like the loss of her supernatural strength.

  Shame there isn’t time to explain and tell her she can thank her boss and his lust for pure void for her current weakness.

  The bones of her forearm snap as I bring my knee down on them, still holding her wrist tight in my hands. I wrench the knife away and drive it through the back of her neck. Finishing them all would be better, but there isn’t time.

  When I’ve wrenched the knife free, I turn. Irene tugs on Daniel’s arm, speaks to him, and moves on. If he heard her, he’s ignoring the information. Though he looks in the direction of the path, it’s only to see who else might be looking. If he had a weapon, it’s gone. When he sees one of Tempest’s vampires following Sabrina as she heads toward the path, Daniel attacks with his bare hands, throwing punches that might normally only distract and slow the enemy, but that tonight take him down easily. Sabrina sees him, turns back with her teeth bared, and re-enters the battle.

  I’m racing over with my knife in hand when Daniel pins the vampire to the ground, grabs his head in both hands, and twists it at an awkward angle that’s painful just to witness. The vampire’s body goes still, but doesn’t disappear.

  Daniel stands and moves toward me, putting his back to mine so we can see everything. “You were right,” he says. “The werewolves are weakening them.”

  “Yeah, but we need more if we’re going to get away before they call for reinforcements. Where are Imogen and Odette?”

  “They took off toward the rift as soon as they caught sight of those cars coming.”

  I pass him my knife and run for the cliffs, and he races in the other direction to aid Sasha, the teenaged werewolf whose size can’t offer her much of an advantage in a fight. Irene’s headed toward her, too, but Daniel’s faster.

  They’ll be fine.

  At the rift, Odette kneels with a knife to her forearm. Several symbols are already painted on the rocks and trees in her blood, but they’re messy. Rushed.

  Imogen is watching helplessly.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I tell her. “It’s not working.”

  Odette glares at me. “Of course it’s not working. If I’d been granted permission to start this as soon as your meeting ended, we’d have something to work with. But now—”

  “Now you need to get out of here,” I tell her. “We still need you. We’ll do better next time.”

  She barks out a laugh. “With what warriors? Are you watching that fight?”

  I glance back. Tempest may be weaker as individuals, but they’re still putting up a good fight, and they have better weapons. I watch as the were in wolf form takes down another vampire, aided by Jia. But not far from them, one of the Agonites falls, turning to dust moments after a bullet passes through his brain. Chester’s putting up a good fight against two others until one of them gets behind him and drives a stake between his ribs. He falls, and I look away.

  Still, it seems we’re winning—until another vehicle turns its headlights toward the yard and heads toward us, bringing backup. And then another.

  “Go,” I tell the humans. “Take that path. Find Miranda and whoever else has made it out.”

  I run back toward the fight, ordering vampires to head for the path before Tempest’s reinforcements arrive. Then I spot Violet racing full speed toward one of the two remaining enemy vampires.

  The other points a shotgun at her.

  I’m about to call out a warning when Irene emerges from behind one of the parked vehicles and darts toward Violet, moving as though she has strength and life to spare, a hoarse scream rising from her throat. She leaps at the vampire, and the bullet meant for Violet catches her in the arm. Daniel’s on the shooter before I can get there, so I turn on the other vampire, wrestling her to the ground, sinking my fangs into her wrist when my grip won’t do the job, tearing flesh and ripping the stake from her hand. She’s wearing body armour, so I settle for driving it through her eye.

  “Aviva, move!”

  I’m trained to obey that voice even if he’s not my boss anymore. I roll to the side, and a second later the top of the vampire’s head explodes to the accompaniment of the blast of a gunshot.

  Violet’s hunched over Irene, whom she’s pulled to the shelter behind their van. I jog over and drop to my knees.

  “It’s just a scratch,” Irene says, but the tension in her voice makes the words unconvincing.

  “Get up,” Violet says. “Go down the path. I’ll hold these as
sholes off for as long as I can, give you all a head start.”

  “No.” Irene sits up and removes her jacket, then unbuttons her shirt. Daniel looks away. We back off a few steps, but with senses like ours, it’s impossible not to hear the conversation.

  “Don’t you dare,” Violet says. “I’ll change. I’ll stay. The pack needs their alpha.”

  “You’re right.” The pain in Irene’s voice is clear, as is the determination. “They do. You’re ready for this, Violet. You have been for a long time.”

  “I won’t let you—”

  “Go!” Irene orders with such authority that even Daniel flinches and takes a step toward the path.

  Then Irene groans. The transformation has begun. Headlights sweep over the yard, revealing the carnage, and the vehicle speeds up.

  I turn back and take Violet by the arm, but she shakes me off. I grab her again and pull her close so she can’t fight as easily.

  “She’s dying,” I whisper in her ear—not so Irene won’t hear, but because my voice is too thick to speak properly. “She knows it. Let her have this.”

  I drag Violet a few paces before she fights back. She pulls free, gives Irene one more look, then heads toward the darkness outside the reach of all the headlights. Daniel and I follow, then I take the lead as we turn toward the path.

  I know the route well, having covered this ground countless times hoping to stumble on a sheltered spot Taggryn might be calling home, but never finding it. We step from rock to rock, placing our feet only where the wind has already cleared the snow away. It looks as if others have done the same. I don’t see any footprints for enemies to follow.

  Violet slows, then crouches in the shelter of the trees beside the path. “I could still go back,” she says.

  Doors slam. A low, long growl follows. That must have been the fastest change of Irene’s life and likely the most painful.

  “Don’t,” someone shouts. “Lachlan wanted another one alive if we came across it, remember?”

  Anger flashes in Violet’s eyes, and it takes both Daniel and me to hold her back.