by Alexia Purdy
Atieran turned toward his “brother,” and a single tear slid down his cheek. “Do not do this,” he pleaded. “I love her. You must stop. You’ll kill us both if you proceed with this madness.”
Azariah must have had enough of the drama, for he began to walk toward Atieran with a mad look in his eyes.
“You are no one to ask such things of me! You’re nothing but an illusion. How dare you? I am the king. I am! Not you, not anyone else. Grab her. We’re leaving this forsaken city. Now.” He turned toward the exit and began walking.
Atieran reached out toward me but hesitated, his arms shaking as his face darkened, red with fury and fight. He avoided looking at me and fixed his eyes on the king. The veins along his temples throbbed as his eyes burned with hatred. “I will not take her prisoner again. I won’t do what you want. Not anymore.”
Azariah’s eyes widened as he turned. Atieran stood with arms extended and no longer advancing toward me. I held out my sword, afraid to move. I wasn’t as good fighting with my left arm as I was with my right, but I was good enough to keep them at bay if I had to.
“Atieran?” I watched him fight whatever magical link he had with his brother. “Tell me he’s lying. You’re real, aren’t you?” I pleaded, afraid of what his answer might be.
He stopped moving and stood still, shaking as though he was straining hard against an invisible force. Sweat mixed with rain spilled down his jawline as he gazed at me.
“Forgive me, my love. I wish it could have been different, but I see now that I truly am but a fragment of his soul and will never be free.”
Suddenly, he reached down and snatched up the blade I’d dropped. Before Azariah could do anything but wordlessly yell out, Atieran plunged the blade into his chest, shoving it in until the blood spilled, deep red, down his shirt and onto the green moss below.
“No!” Azariah and I both screamed at the same time, but as I reached for Atieran, Azariah crumbled to the ground, matching Atieran’s movements.
“Atieran!” I dropped to my knees and pulled him into my arms to hold him up before his head hit the floor. His bright blue eyes found me, and as he focused his remaining energy, he reached up and pressed a finger to my cheek, trailing along the track of a recently fallen tear.
“Amy, you’re so beautiful. Never give up your light. Not for anyone. Forgive me. I wish I could have known a life with you in it.” He reached up, his face so close to mine. I met him halfway, brushing my lips against his before his body dropped and stilled. His eyelids flickered before growing dim and closing.
No. He can’t be gone. It isn’t true, I thought, my heart in my throat.
“You’ve killed us. All of us,” Azariah growled as he held a hand to a matching wound on his chest, greenish blue blood bursting from the site. “What becomes of my tribe? You’ve cursed them to oblivion!” He stared at me as Atieran’s breath released from his body.
“They will be fine,” I answered, not feeling very sure myself. “They’ll find a new leader within their ranks, and we’ll negotiate terms with them, just like all the other supernaturals in Wicked Grove.” I choked the words out through tears, squeezing Atieran’s body to my chest.
Azariah chuckled, leaning forward as his wound continued to bleed profusely. “I mean you’ve cursed them, Amy. You’ve cursed them to wither back into mortals. Their magic will fade when I die, leaving them powerless. It’s all your fault. You should have helped us.”
“I didn’t have to help you.”
He exhaled, a pained expression on his face as he eyed his brother. “You loved him too, didn’t you?”
I turned to peer at Atieran’s silent face. He looked so peaceful, free of pain and torment now. At least he had that now.
“Yes. I’ve grown fond of him.”
“Lucky fools. He thought he was real.” Azariah held out his blood-stained hand and closed his eyes. He reached out for his brother, but a moment later Atieran’s body dissipated into a fine mist which swirled around me before returning to its creator. “He was never real. He was always a part of me.” He flicked his eyes open, now black like a faery’s. “Do you still love me?”
I stared at him, horrified. Shaking my head, I sniffed at the night air, my heart heavy. “No. I could never love you.”
“Pity. I loved you as he did. All he felt, I do too. But now I feel nothing but cold inside.” He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as confusion filled him. “Strange. His loneliness and heartbreak feel odd inside me.”
He slid to the ground, more blood feeding the puddle growing beside him. I felt the magic recede from him, and as it did, the metal armor disappeared from his body, leaving behind a human man who looked just like Atieran.
All but his eyes were human again. Fathoms of inky darkness watched me as his life ebbed away. The fae king was dead. The patter of rain was my only companion as I sat there, sobbing softly before forcing myself up to my feet. Every tiny injury Azariah had inflicted upon me while we’d been fighting screamed for attention. Taking stock of my bruises and cuts, I found that in addition to my numb arm, I had a split lip, a gash on one eyebrow, and a cut on my thigh. None of it needed immediate attention, so I gathered up my weapons and turned toward the exit.
I left the sanctuary, my arm feeling better as stumbled out into the wet night air. I had thought killing the fae king would make things right, but instead I felt as empty and cold as the king’s heart. Atieran was gone, but regardless of what the king had said, his brother had been more than real to me. Now, without him, I staggered through the sleeping city to the brownstone where my brothers would be resting. My body was still in one piece, but inside I was more broken than ever.
Chapter Thirty
* * *
Amy
I sat on the stairs inside our brownstone, carefully sipping tea past the stiches on my lip. The cup shook in my fingers, but I ignored the splash of hot fluid that ran down the back of my hand and landed on my jeans, trying not to groan as it scalded my skin.
“You need to eat something, Amy. The tea-only diet isn’t becoming of you. You need to work to keep quality fluffiness on.” He chuckled as he waved a cookie in front of me. Chocolate chip. My favorite. I snatched the cookie from his fingers and promptly tossed it at him.
Frowning, I looked away, my stomach lurching at the prospect of eating. “Not hungry.”
He glanced at Jay, who was sitting on the couch, his mouth tight.
“You can’t keep this up,” Jay snapped. “We need to figure some stuff out, and we can’t do it without you. We can’t hide in this house forever. The Agency will find us eventually.”
I scowled. “Let them. I’ll be ready.”
Jay abruptly stood and donned his jacket and a baseball cap before heading out the door.
“Where’s he going?” I asked. “I thought you said we need to stay here until we’re sure the Agency isn’t after us.”
Craig shrugged. “We do. But Jay does what Jay wants most of the time. As do you.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I muttered, sipping my flavorless tea again. “If they hadn’t tried to turn us over to Azariah, things would be different. They caused this mess.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Sure.”
“Give me some credit. I’ve sent a message to Becca.”
My eyes widened. “What? We can’t trust anyone from the Agency.”
“We can trust her. And Hanley. They know more than anyone that the Agency is corrupt. Trust me.”
I groaned. “This isn’t going to end well.”
“Have a little faith, Amy. Have a little faith.”
I glared out the window before throwing down the blanket I’d wrapped around my shoulders to keep the chill off. I’d recovered from a bout of mild pneumonia, but I was still feeling the effects from the night Atieran and Azariah had died. The memory sent unpleasant shocks through my mind, and I swept it to the side. I couldn’t think of either of them, or I’d lose my mind. Instead, I got up, grab
bed my swords propped against the bay window, and set them on the coffee table where I’d earlier placed my oiling and sharpening kit.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” I mumbled. Distractions were therapeutic and sometimes the only thing that helped when my mind was erratic. “I can’t sit here doing nothing. I’m going to clean my weapons and go look for a new safe house. You said you spoke with Becca and Hanley? Can they help us?”
He nodded. “They’ve got some places we can stay while we draw up plans to go against the Agency.”
“With what soldiers? Three of us against what? Hundreds of agents? Are you suicidal?”
Craig grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “We’ll even up the odds first.”
“And how are you going to do that?” I asked, curious.
“Just wait.” He folded his arms and stared out the window, watching the cars and the occasional pedestrian go by. “We’re going to get a little help from some new friends Jay just went to fetch. They should be here soon.”
I was thoroughly impressed. Allies against the Agency? How had he managed to pull that off?
A knock came at the door, and Craig moved to answer it. He swung the door ajar, and my mouth dropped open. Jumping to my feet, I watched as several people walked in, crowding into the living room.
Before me stood Hayden, the alpha of the werewolf pack we’d encountered in the woods; Francesca, the head of the vampire mafia; Nehemiah, the commander of the hellions; Sadie, the high priestess of the witch covens; and Oliver, the leader of the Nephilim.
Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for certain, the Agency would never see it coming.
The Wicked Grove Series continues!
Book 2: Renegades will be available November 28th, 2017
Read on for a BONUS STORY from the Wicked Grove World!
Bonus Wicked Grove Story:
Bitter
A Wicked Grove Tale
Hayden was once a soldier part of an elite agency trained to keep supernatural nuisances under wraps. He didn’t plan on being contaminated during a routine extermination of a rogue wolf pack. He didn’t count on it changing everything he believed ties humans and supernaturals together. It’ll take everything he’s got to survive the bitter winter amid a deadly struggle between them all.
Chapter One
* * *
Winter Calling
“Yo, Hayden! What was your deal today? I can’t believe you almost let the blood snapper best you. It was a one-shot deal, and you froze in your boots like piss on a tree.”
Hayden ignored his partner, Rob, rolling his shoulders while popping his bones back into place. It felt good to stretch after a long evening out in the wintery city of Wicked Grove. The weather stiffened his bones like ice. He stuffed his tactical gear into his locker, ready to hightail it to the nearest bar and set his veins afire with all the alcohol he could ingest before blacking out. The entire room was alive with slamming metal and bursts of laughter; the high after a mission. No one had been killed, injured, or worse—contaminated.
But there had been a near miss. Hayden had barely scraped himself off the pavement. Afterward, he’d spent some time hosing off the vampire ash covering him. The creature had burst into flame, disintegrating right in front of him, his hand still attached to the damn stake, before being sent flying back into a parked car.
It had been close. Too close. Another slipup like that could cost him everything. If the thing had gotten one bloody fang on his skin….
He shook his head as an ice-cold shudder quivered along his spine.
“Hayden, you okay, man?” Rob watched him as he checked his gear and slammed his locker shut. “You know we got another mission, right?”
Hayden frowned and peered around the room. The team was donning their gear again. In their black fatigues, they looked like an army of black ops soldiers. It was already time to suit up for yet another mission? Too bad no one would ever know of this group’s accomplishments. They were ghosts—the ones who did the dirty work of keeping the supernatural under wraps and cleaning up after the rogues. It was their job to keep events like today’s blood-pumped vampire out of the headlines.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Annika is already rounding us up. Werewolf infestation, I think.”
Hayden’s boozy binge would have to wait. Figures.
“Yeah, all right. No problem, man. Just burning the midnight oil is wearing on me. I’ve got this. Just another regular infestation, right? We’ve dealt with werewolves before, so this should be a piece of cake.”
Rob nodded, but the concern was etched across his features. Hayden was sure his partner did not agree with him that he was fine. There was no way to tell him the truth. He couldn’t tell him about the apprehension boiling up in his chest and the doubt that what they were doing as exterminators of the supernatural was wrong on so many levels. If that came out, Hayden would be kicked out of the Agency so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him.
This life was all he knew. Plus, his brother, Hanley, worked here too and loved it. He’d never abandon him, even if it meant his morals were being compromised.
“All right, bro, I’ll be waiting outside.”
Rob slapped his shoulder and walked away. He knew there was something wrong but didn’t let on. There were just some things best left unsaid. Good friends accepted flaws without questioning, without pushing. Those who weren’t close would poke and prod until things got uncomfortable. They always did. Thank goodness Rob wasn’t that kind of a person. He was quiet, observant, and loyal. He’d been Hayden’s friend for five years, and there was no doubt that it would take an act of God to cause a rift between them.
For now, the secrets between them were pushed from the forefront as they grabbed their white winter gear to pull on over their regular ops wear. The night was a frosty one, and the fresh powder in the forest was already knee deep. Freezing to death was not on the agenda, and Hayden would be relieved when his shift ended and he could return to the cozy apartment he shared with Hanley.
The team gathered outside to ride the Agency’s vehicles up to the surrounding forest and follow the trail of rogue wolves spotted near the northeast edge of Wicked Grove. Exterminating a wolf pack was no easy feat, and his muscles were already aching from the last hunt.
Annika, their operations leader, sat up front with the driver, a new guy Hayden didn’t recognize. Annika was a strict, no-nonsense leader he’d worked with before. Her long blonde hair was pulled taut into a ponytail, making her face look tighter that it normally was. Hayden thought she did that for the lift it gave her. She wasn’t young like most of her team, but she was just as tough. At least he was familiar with the team, which would cause fewer problems in case anything went south. Otherwise, this was all pretty routine.
Except it felt anything but routine, and the churning feeling in his stomach grew as they arrived at their destination. Hunting wolves was always a nocturnal job, but the fuller the moon, the more dangerous it became. Near the full moon was the worst time to be hunting wolves, but it was also when they were the most active. Especially in the dead of winter.
As they jumped from their trucks into the frigid, forest air, he hoped it was all in his head. The moon was as unforgiving as the weather, and in Wicked Grove, anything could happen.
Chapter Two
* * *
Blood on Snow
Fat, fluffy flakes were falling on the forest, landing softly on the already laid blanket of crystals spread out like a soft feather down comforter. It was way too quiet. Hayden could hear his heart beating in his ears, pounding and fluttering with excitement. The winter had taken hold of Wicked Grove and its surrounding areas, threatening to cover every living thing with snow.
“Hayden, take up the rear,” Annika said. “We’re going to move in a single file around the base of the hills up ahead. Our scouts found tracks there. If we don’t find anything else, we’ll set up camp for the night.
Just got intel we might face a storm front. Might.”
That wasn’t what Hayden wanted to hear.
Annika was strong, with sharp, oily doe eyes that didn’t match her pale hair. Her skin shone white in the moonlight, with a hint of pale blue from the cold, but her lips were an angry red. A flush of pink graced the tip of her nose and the ridges of her chiseled cheekbones.
Hayden threw her a quick nod then snapped his eyes back to the woods, feeling the chill of the weather creep through his clothes and send a rush of gooseflesh along his skin.
The storm front was coming. They shouldn’t be here.
But aside from the storm, something else wasn’t right. He felt like they were being watched, not by just one pair of eyes but many. The thought sent a vibrating shudder down his spine that he could not shake. He’d been on many missions like this, but none of them had ever given him such a feeling of dread. The scenery was too fresh, too pristine. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but everything about it felt wrong.
Hayden fell back and let the group pass him. Their white and gray winter camo was a far cry from the usual black and green pattern they wore during the non-winter months. It made everything bright, even in the darkness. He pulled his shades down over his eyes to cut out the blinding moonlight reflecting off the snow and irritating his retinas. Good thing his night vision was excellent.
He heard an echo of a scream or howl behind him and turned. No one else appeared to notice the sound, as though the single, long, resonating wail riding the wind was meant just for him. Cocking his head to one side, he listened hard as his group pulled away ahead of him before turning to slip back into formation. He kept his eyes wide open, flicking them from tree to tree to tree but finding nothing. He could barely hear anything above the crunch of snow as the soldiers made their way through the drifts.