Banewolf (Dark Siren Book 2)

by Eden Ashley

“Holy crackers. He speaks.” York coughed. Drawing the next breath was even more painful. “I think I’m banged up pretty bad. You need to go get Rhane.”

  I leave with you.

  “No, no. Don’t wait up.” He stopped speaking to struggle for another lungful of air. “Look at it as you doing me a big favor. Pretend you’re a really smart collie while you’re at it.”

  What is collie?

  York laughed and instantly regretted it as ultimate misery ripped through his chest. Still, he couldn’t believe the kid was talking. He slowly worked his right hand toward his body. He had to figure out what was wrong. Starting at his belly, he crawled his fingers upward until he felt cold metal in a cylindrical shape. It was thin. Solid. And it was protruding from his chest. York lifted his head from the floor, expending a lot of energy to do so. The rod was a spear, but not just any spear. It was made of blood silver. He swore and collapsed.

  Bailen confirmed it as if reading his thoughts. Bad woman hurt you.

  “Yeah.” York was wheezing now. Something he should have thought of a while ago ignited a spark of alarm. “Where is the bad woman?”

  Bailen trotted off. Promptly returning, he dropped a severed limb next to York’s face. If York hadn’t been literally staked to the floor, injuries be damned, he would have jumped up running.

  Four enormously long fingers ended in claws, curled into the floor like a giant king crab. Shriveled grey flesh was marred by gnarled knots and wispy hairs that really should have never bothered growing. Black blood oozed from tears in the mangled skin. And the smell was disgusting.

  “Okay.” York concentrated on slowing his breathing. Hyperventilating with a hole in his chest wasn’t going to help matters. “Where’s the rest of her?” he asked, adding, “Don’t bring me anything else.”

  She ran away. Took something from Rion.

  York couldn’t feel his toes anymore. And Bailen was beginning to sound really far off. Perfect. He tried to convince the kid to leave one more time. “You really…really need to go get Rhane.”

  Bailen sat down. No. Fire is coming.

  “Oh hell,” York said. “The freaking kid is nuts.”

  #

  Rhane couldn’t wrap his head around it. Part of the manor had actually exploded. The blast occurred in the second level of the west wing. Fire burned in the aftermath, completely engulfing that side of the manor, and quickly spreading. York and Rion were still inside. War was at large, and Bailen was nowhere to be seen.

  He looked at Kalista. Fear had etched itself boldly across her face, and her heart was pounding out of control. But he had to ask. “Exactly how far have you come in your training?”

  “What?”

  River placed a hand on his shoulder. Rhane ignored it. “Your training,” he repeated patiently. “Have you learned to control fire not of your making?”

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  “She can’t do it, brother.”

  Shrugging away from him, Rhane moved closer so Kalista could only focus on him. He pressed his palms to either side of her face. “Kalista, the manor just exploded. That fire will to eat through it like kindling. I don’t know if York managed to reach Rion. But they’re not out yet. River and I have to go in and get them.” Her eyes were wide and frightened. Rhane knew he was asking a lot. But he had to. “Can you control the flames? Buy us some time?”

  She trembled so hard his hands started to shake. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I-I don’t k-know how.”

  Rhane shook his head. “It’s okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” She choked back a sob.

  “Shhh. It’s okay,” he repeated. Not knowing any other way to soothe her tears, Rhane kissed her cheek and forehead as tenderly as possible. He held her gaze, smoothing her tangled hair. “It’s alright.”

  Then he let go. Stepping away from her, he looked at Gabriel and the Reapers. He didn’t want to leave Kalista’s side with them so close. But he couldn’t risk sending anyone else into the manor to get killed. He couldn’t let his brother go alone. And Rhane couldn’t be in two places at once. He would have to trust Gabriel.

  He pointed to the kindred. “You two and Orrin, stay with Kalista.”

  River moved to his side. “We must hurry.”

  “I know.” Rhane agreed but was having a hard time moving. Long ago, he’d left Rhaven, thinking the boy would be safe. That hadn’t ended well. And here he was about to leave his family again.

  Watching Rhane’s every move until this point, the fallen Prime caught Rhane’s gaze and inclined his head slowly. “Your siren will be safe.”

  While not exactly reassuring, it was the nudge Rhane needed. He took off at a run toward the manor, reaching the front door in seconds. River paused, looking at him. “Follow the blood?”

  Thinking back to the rogue, her form in the window, smearing blood against the glass, Rhane shook his head. “Follow their scents.” But York and Rion were two separate trails. Rion was the closest. Rhane sent his brother after the boy. He would find York.

  The fire roared like a living monster, drowning out the sound of everything else. The heat was unbearable. Flames reached out as if hungry to taste flesh as he passed. The air was thick with smoke, singeing the lungs without mercy, stinging is eyes.

  Upstairs was consumed by even more fire. But the smoke wasn’t as thick and breathing here was a little easier. York’s trail continued through the hall but not past the broom closet—the secret entrance to the hidden level. Other markers overlapped heavily with York’s. Female. Hostile. The same scent Rhane had encountered at a certain bookshop. Lara. The rogue was inside his home. She’d hurt Rion. And she’d probably hurt York. Rhane stashed that anger for later, and pushed through the door.

  Rion’s blood was everywhere, smeared at the top of the staircase and against the stone walls. No doubt it was what had drawn York in this the direction. Bellefuron in hand, Rhane descended the staircase. Every sense was alert to any sign of attack. Nearing the base of the stairs, he heard a violent hiss moving up rapidly behind him. He lunged from the landing instinctively, and the parade of flames traveled past him like a runaway train, igniting everything they touched. Soon, the floor, the walls, and the ceiling were glowing angry orange. A piece of debris dislodged from the ceiling and hurtled toward him. Rhane rolled. The chunk missed him, breaking apart as it smashed into the floor. He jumped to feet with urgency pounding at his chest. Destruction from the upper levels had reached the basement. The manor was now a structural nightmare and could collapse at any moment. He had to find York, and he had to do it fast.

  Calling York’s name, he listened but got no answer. “York!” he called again.

  A faint noise whispered from a far corner, and Rhane went toward the sound, raising an arm to shield his face from mounting heat. The air was noticeably thinner as oxygen molecules were sucked away to fuel the fire. Rhane forced his eyes wide against the sting of smoke, not wanting to miss a crucial detail. Still, he was almost on top of York before he spotted him.

  Dread weakened his legs to the point of collapse. York was motionless. Not even his chest moved. Impaled through his ribcage was a spear that should have measured six feet in length. But only about four feet of the weapon was visible. The rest of it was hidden by York’s torso and drilled into the floor beneath him. Such a feat had taken an incredible amount of strength. And York was most likely unconscious when it happened.

  Rhane stumbled over to his friend, unable to prepare for the possibility that he might already be dead. He knelt down to get a good look at the wound. The spear had pierced straight through York’s heart and lung, pumping blood silver directly into his bloodstream. His veins had all but turned black from the poison. Darkened capillaries even splotched the paled skin of his face.

  Rhane’s hands trembled as he reached out to touch him. He steeled himself for the worse. York’s skin was cold, and his body, completely limp. Biting back a sob, Rhane listened.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.
<
br />   There. Faint, fluttery, and irregular, but it was a heartbeat. Cold fingers grabbed his hand. The grip was weak and already slipping.

  But Rhane’s breath expelled in a whoosh.

  Chapter 55

  “It’s about time…you got here.” York forced his eyes open, but things were still dark, not leaving much to see. But Rhane was there. They had the chance to say goodbye. “Man…this hurts.” The pressure of a cough built, and York prepared himself for the agony that would immediately follow. But this time more than pain accompanied the cough. Hot liquid spurted from his mouth, wetting both sides of his face. Rhane, looking about as freaked out as York had ever seen him, squeezed his hand.

  “Easy,” Rhane said. Both his mind and heart were racing. York wasn’t dead. The damage wasn’t too great for him to heal. But he knew from experience that taking away mortal injuries sapped nearly all of his strength. And the regenerative ability wasn’t like pushing a magic reset button. The wounds would be gone, but York’s body would still need time to recover from shock. He wouldn’t be strong enough to get himself out of the manor, and Rhane would be too weak to carry them both. But removing the spear without healing the wound would certainly kill York. The blood silver had done its work.

  “Just keep still,” he said as York moved again. There was another way. He just had to think of it.

  “Don’t have much…of a choice…you idiot.”

  “That’s right. Keep calling me names.”

  York coughed again, expelling more blood. Rhane started to feel panicky. Think.

  A rafter from an upper floor crashed through the basement ceiling, but got caught in a cross section of debris. It swung in a pendulum of motion far too close for comfort, likely to drop on their heads at any moment. Rhane swore. The rafter fell. He covered York’s body as best he could and hoped nothing hit the spear and caused more damage. But the beam crashed harmlessly to the ground, showering them with a hail of cinders.

  As Rhane lifted himself again, he spotted a dark object taking shelter nearby. It was Bailen.

  York followed his gaze. “Yeah…he’s an idiot too…wouldn’t leave.” In truth, he had been grateful for the canine’s resolve to stay at his side. Bailen was limping. One paw held tenderly off the floor, he took several steps toward them. York wondered what had happened.

  Rhane choked out another swear. The situation was hopeless. Now he had Bailen to worry about too. York was his best friend…had been since the day he’d saved Rhane from river serpents, rescuing him from the underground lair. Their path together couldn’t end like this.

  Seeing so much fear in Rhane’s expression, seeing the helplessness in his eyes was too much for York. A surge of strength fed his limbs, and he struggled to sit up. “You’re thinking too much. Just pull it out. I’ll be okay. I promise. Get us out of here.”

  “I told you to stay still.” Placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, Rhane eased York back down. “That’s a fucking order.”

  Still limping, Bailen made his way toward them at a quickened pace, picking though flames and fallen debris. More cracks rippled across the comprised ceiling, popping like muted gunfire. And then a second explosion ripped through the basement.

  #

  Kali remained outside, watching anxiously for Rhane and the others. It had been too long since he and River had gone inside. Just when Kali thought she would buckle beneath the weight of her worry, the front door opened. Only River emerged. Rion was cradled safely in his arms, but he looked bad. As River hurried closer, her eyes made out the copious amount of blood soaking their clothing. More blood poured from between Rion’s fingers from the hand latched around his throat. His skin was pale, his face drawn tight with pain.

  “Oh my god, Rion!”

  His eyes followed the sound of her voice but took another long moment to focus. He smiled weakly. His voice was a whisper. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Don’t do that,” Kali said. “Don’t try to make me feel better.”

  River lowered him to the ground and covered the young kin’s hand with his. “Let go. Save your strength. I will keep pressure on the wound.” Rion obeyed, and paled even more as River pressed down on his throat.

  Rion needed a doctor, but she was pretty sure the kin didn’t see those sorts of professionals. She fixed a worried eye on River. “Where’s Rhane?”

  “He is still inside.”

  Gabriel stood nearby, red eyes deliberating every detail of the scene before him. “Hopefully, he has not remained within the eastern wing.” He moved closer, studying Rion’s injuries without direct comment. “That part of the structure will collapse at any moment.”

  Knowing it was a crazy thing to ask, Kali did so any way. Maybe her plea would appeal to Cal. “Will you help him?”

  “For anyone inside, survival is highly unlikely. To go in there would be suicide.”

  As if to emphasize Gabriel’s words, another explosion erupted. Chunks of burning wood blasted off the roof and walls, hurtling toward them like asteroids. Then the manor’s roof buckled and rippled inward.

  “Get down!”

  She’d heard Orrin’s shout, but couldn’t move. He pulled her beneath him, used his body to shield her from the chaos that rained down around them. When he let her up, the first thing she did was check on Rion. River still kneeled beside him. His white hair was in complete disarray. Though he sat perfectly motionless, River gritted his teeth. His face contorted as if under strain.

  At first, Kali didn’t understand why. Then she saw flames burning the very clothing from River’s back. She yelled for Orrin. The big kin sprang into action, putting the fire out with his bare hands. Through it all, River never let go, never ceased keeping pressure on Rion’s wound.

  “The fire is out,” Orrin said softly.

  River gave him an odd look. “Thank you.”

  Orrin blinked. “You are welcome.” He pointed behind them. “The fire in the manor also no longer burns.”

  “Did you do that?” River asked, his cool eyes observing Kali.

  Squirming underneath his icy gaze and the others who watched her, she shook her head. “No.” She looked around. “Where’s Ander?”

  #

  Rhane heard the roar of the ceiling giving in, followed by the walls and floor caving beneath its damaged weight. Debris seemed to come from all directions. There was no more time to think. He bit his arm, savagely tearing through dermis and muscle with his teeth. When enough of his blood flowed, he grabbed the spear and yanked it from York’s chest in one fluid motion. The wound began to heal instantly as his blood poured down his arm and into York’s chest.

  But the fire was on top of them. He smelled skin burning and knew it was his. White fur slowly rippled across his forearms, but healing York had weakened him. The transformation wasn’t happening fast enough.

  Then the fire stopped advancing. It was a mystery Rhane thought he would worry about later. He was wrong.

  Banewolf would be a shield from the collapse of the manor. Rhane only had to finish the transition and get everyone in position. Reaching out to pull Bailen beneath him, he was shocked when his fingers touched human flesh. Rhane looked back. A teenage boy…kneeled on the basement floor. His eyes were gray like Kalista’s. His skin was dark, tanned like Rhane’s. Concentration was inscribed deeply on the boy’s face. Rhane knew it was he who held the fire at bay.

  The rafters groaned. They could take no more of the strain. No. The beams snapped outward. No. Rhane was too weak. The wolf would not emerge before the collapse. Bailen and York would be killed.

  The boy’s eyes had closed. It didn’t seem as if he realized what was happening. Rhane snatched him to his side. Covering Bailen and York as well as possible, he braced for impact that didn’t come. As he looked up, he could have cried with relief. Ander had caught the falling rafters, supporting more than a ton of burning weight on his shoulders. There was no sign of the pain it must have caused him.

  Sadness crushed the brief r
eprieve of joy in Rhane’s heart. “Thank you, brother,” he said just before his mouth disappeared. Ander inclined his head slowly. Then the kindred’s body folded beneath the massive burden. And Rhane saw only darkness as the manor came down around them.

  Chapter 56

  Daylight tickled Rhane’s eyelids, dragging him from a troubled slumber. His dreams were filled with ash, blood, and loss. Real life didn’t differ much from the dream. The smell of soot was strong in the air. And so was the smell of blood. He sensed the loss before meeting York’s solemn stare that confirmed it.

  From the position of the sun, Rhane guessed he’d been out for less than three hours. He pushed himself upright, exhaling a breath as he did so to make the transition easier. Large blisters covered most of his arms and shoulders. He could only imagine what his back must have looked like.

  “Easy there, big guy,” York said softly.

  Sitting at the edge of the bed, he felt another presence in the room. His eyes found Bailen and returned the canine’s quiet appraisal. Bailen had become more of a mystery than ever.

  “I saw him too.”

  Rhane didn’t shift his gaze away. “Yeah.”

  “He looked like you.”

  “He looks like Kalista.”

  “We’re not going to tell her about this are we?”

  “No.”

  York was silent for a long moment. It wasn’t just Bailen on his mind. Rion, Warren, Ander…He didn’t know where to start. Luckily, Rhane did.

  “Did we find War?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “And Ander?”

  “Gabriel helped dig everyone out.” York swallowed the rising bitterness. Anguish creased Rhane’s features. “Ander didn’t make it.”

  “He died well.”

  “He saved our asses.”

  Rhane nodded, feeling only anger where gratitude should have been. “Yeah.”

  “And so did Bailen.”

  “Yeah.” Rhane steadied himself before asking the next question. He stared at the floor and took a deep breath, needing to be prepared for the answer, and held completely still as if moving might have changed the outcome. “What of Rion?”