“And you can be good again.”
“We are damned,” Castor said plainly. “If you wish to stop us, then you must kill us. There is no other answer.”
“He’s right,” a new voice called out and Tristan looked with wide eyes over his shoulder, refusing to let go of Castor, though if the vampire really meant to get away, he easily could in that distracted moment.
“Who the fuck are you?” Damn, he couldn’t sense this person, he wasn’t a vampire. Or pythia. So the question was, which of the other twelve races could he be, because he was pretty sure this man wasn’t human.
The blond man strolled closer, his hands in his jean pockets casually as if they weren’t in a barn that was on fire and Tristan wasn’t holding a vampire down. Tristan cursed when he grabbed for a gun that was no longer there.
“The only way to stop them, any of them, is to kill them. You have to kill the twins and their new Master. They’re beyond redemption.” He looked Tristan in the eye from mere feet away.
Something tingled over him. The man, he looked normal enough, young, perhaps twenty-ish, handsome face with a square jaw lined in blond stubble. His hair was thick and messy, yet fit this whole rock-n-roll look he had going with the band tee and thick leather bracelets on each wrist and a choker to match. He even wore thick black eyeliner. And that was what tipped off Tristan’s worry-meter; that and the golden-amber eyes that kohl enhanced. Those eyes, it was something Mamoru had said to him once, but that this man was here now was impossible.
Then again, Tristan lived the impossible these days. So maybe it was true.
“You’re…,” Tristan said in an astonished whisper and he shivered. “You’re a lycanthrope, aren’t you?” But that really wasn’t possible. Mamoru, even Ash had said that they were extinct. There was only one real way to know and yet Tristan hoped not to see it for himself.
The man barely reacted, just the slightest of tightening in his jaw to declare his unease. “Are you going to kill him or not?” the man said, nodding at Castor. The vampire didn’t seem to take offense to it, silently watching the exchange as if they were discussing what to order for dinner.
Tristan swallowed hard and looked down at the vampire under him. Castor stared back, unafraid and infinitely patient for Tristan to make his decision. This boy was broken. They all knew it.
“This man is a traitor. But he’s right.” Castor turned his attention to the man. “Regardless of what happens to me, Nastasia will kill you for this betrayal.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan saw the newcomer shrug. “Anything’s better than being under her thumb any longer. I’d rather go back to Malik, but he’s dead.”
A shudder tore through Tristan.
This kid thought Nastasia was too cruel? That Malik was the better option? Jesus Christ.
“What will you do?”
The newcomer, the wolf, he was talk to Tristan.
“I can’t,” he finally whispered and stumbled back, letting Castor go. There was too much blood on his hands already. And after learning the twin’s past, he felt sympathy for them. They could be saved, he had to believe that. He had to believe that their deaths didn’t kill what made them, them. If there was hope for them, then there was hope for Nastasia. Whatever was wrong between mother and daughter could be fixed.
In a blink, the man was on Castor. The vampire, obviously not having expected it, cried out in surprise. It was a cry like no other, chilling Tristan through despite the beat of flame at his back. This vampire, he was afraid. Of everything Mamoru had told him, he knew there was one very good reason to fear a beast like a lycanthrope.
Torn between putting himself in the fray and stopping the fire, Tristan decided he would rather fight fire than a vampire and a werewolf. He sprinted across the barn to the other side. When he slipped through the rear barn door, he stopped, blinking at the young girl struggling with a tangle of hose.
“Who the fuck are you!” Christ, there were people coming out of the woodwork here. Just what the hell was happening?
She yelped, dropping the hose as he surprised her. She spun, putting her hands demurely in front of her. “Um, I’m um…”
There was a crackle of electricity behind him and Tristan ducked as a gust of wind funneled out of the barn and over him. The stench of burnt wood and blood permeated his clothes, clogged his sinuses.
The girl yipped and he turned his attention back to her. His blood said she wasn’t a vampire or a pythia. There were no pointy ears and she wasn’t elf tall—or had feathers for hair. She wasn’t wielding a staff nor did she have a mermaid’s tail. She certainly wasn’t a dragon or pixy and the shinigami couldn’t be seen with the naked eye on this side of the lines. The kitsune all looked Japanese and she was very white. Pale, freckled, brunette and sickly thin. Everything in him said she was human. But…
He shifted on his feet, glancing back through the open door. If that guy in there really was a lycan, she could be too. He just needed to get closer to see her eyes.
“Um, I’m Ellie. Ms. Ash, um, hired me. For the barn.”
“Why the hell are you here? It’s the middle of the fucking night!” And there were no horses yet. Hell, they hadn’t even moved in themselves.
“I was um, checking on the goats. Out there,” She motioned behind her to the field, “and um, getting the rest ready for the horses and then I was organizing the tack room and I sort of, I fell asleep.” She darted forward, reaching for him, but she recoiled when she noticed the gun and the sword. She put her hands up, backing away. “It was an accident, I swear! I didn’t mean to make a fire, I don’t even know how it happened, I swear!”
Tristan sighed, shaking his head. There was nothing nefarious about the girl, she just had bad timing and she didn’t start the fire. “Go home. I’ll take care of it.”
Ellie glanced back at the barn. He could tell why and cringed to himself. Castor’s blood curdling scream was deafening. A wave of nausea washed over Tristan as he felt a little bit of the horror the vampire felt. God, he could almost taste the sourness of death in his mouth. He was going to be sick.
“It’s too big and somebody’s hurt,” she said as he was frozen in place. “We have to call for help.”
Another scream and Tristan had to shut his eyes as he felt so sick that he almost passed out. Holy hell, just what was that man doing to the vampire? If he wasn’t really a Were, Tristan didn’t want to know what he was, just that he’d never meet another one again. He could taste Castor’s wind seikonō but it was no match for whatever that other guy was doing to him.
“No, don’t,” he forced himself to say. “I’ll do it myself. Just go before you get in trouble with your parents.” When he opened his eyes, Ellie was dancing on her feet, desperate to get in there and put out the fire. But she was afraid. “Please, Ellie. This is my house and I can’t be responsible for you. Go home.”
“You—you’re Mr. Tristan?”
He nodded. “You can get out on your own?”
She nodded, her bottom lip out in a sad pout. “Can… can I come back tomorrow after school?”
Jesus. She was just a kid. “Do you have a number to reach Ash at?”
“Nu—number?”
“Phone number.”
She nodded again, taking a step back.
“Then call her first, okay? Now go, before you get hurt.” Or he loses his shit. Or worse, the werewolf comes outside.
“’Kay,” she answered softly and then turned tail, running all the way to her car, an old junker parked near the field gate Tristan only just noticed.
He barely got out his held breath when he felt someone behind him. Not the presence of a vampire, but just human instinct. He spun to find a huge wolf staring at him. It had to be the man, they both had the same pale golden blond hair and amber eyes, eyes with human emotion behind them.
A tremor tore down Tristan’s spine and he took a step back, pulling his remaining gun. His hand was shaking and he couldn’t even feel ashamed for it. �
��Did you kill Castor?”
The wolf nodded and Tristan started at not only the intelligent response, but the clank of metal as an ear full of earrings knocked together. The great wolf took a few steps to the side and nodded his head towards the barn.
What was left of Castor made a lump of raw meat in the aisle. The body was intact, mostly, but the head had been ripped off. Castor’s face was gone and the skull had been cracked open. There was no blood anymore, dried up by the vampire disease. There was no brain either, just an empty skull with no face and no neck.
Gore rose up Tristan’s throat and he folded over to rest his hands on his thighs, gasping and gagging. “Are you… Fuck.” He spit, sure he was about to vomit. “Are you going to kill Pollux too?” he asked in a breathy whisper and looked up, still gasping for a breath of good air.
Another nod.
He swallowed hard. “Nastasia?”
This time a shake.
“Because… she’s your Master and you can’t betray her?”
An emphatic shake of his massive head again, clanking his earrings.
“Because you can’t do it alone?”
The wolf nodded.
“I won’t help you. She’s Ash’s daughter and I won’t let you kill her.”
The wolf growled and Tristan’s body ran with goose flesh. He scrambled back a few steps when the wolf took one towards him. Then it stopped and lowered its head, ears back in a submissive gesture. The wolf shook his head and that’s when Tristan noticed the collar, the same leather he’d had on his human form. There was something on the wolf’s collar that wasn’t there before and when he shook his head again, Tristan realized the wolf was trying to show it to him.
“You,” He licked his lips nervously. “You want me to take that?”
The wolf nodded and Tristan laughed nervously. “God, this is so fucked.” He let out a steadying breath. “Fine, but if you bite me, I swear to god I’ll come back as a shinigami and fucking haunt you until you die.”
The wolf let out a little whiney howl before he sat back on his haunches, panting and looking like a nice pet. But Tristan knew what this animal really was, a real live lycanthrope, the natural enemy to the vampire. And if Tristan was vampire enough, a single bite could mean a very slow and painful death for him. You know, if the wolf didn’t just tear his throat out first.
Tentatively, Tristan reached out for the wolf. Realizing he would have to put his gun away to take the hanging ornament off, he huffed at the wolf. Without voicing his annoyance, the wolf seemed to understand and plopped down on the ground, rolling over to show his belly.
“Fine,” Tristan sighed and put his gun away, but left the safety off. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed for being so afraid of the wolf. Mamoru had told him just enough to have a healthy respect and fear of the supposedly extinct shinwa.
Panic rising in his throat, Tristan fumbled with shaking hands to unhook the small glass tube that was attached to the collar. When it finally came free, he jumped back and the wolf righted himself to sit upright again. The wolf looked happy, content as he panted softly, watching him with those intelligent amber eyes. All the while the fire raged on, the beat of heat warming Tristan’s body, the scent of immolated timber cloying his lungs.
There was a note inside the tube asking Tristan to meet the wolf, “Kiba”, tomorrow for lunch, that there was something important to discuss. Tristan fisted the little slip of paper. “No, no fucking way. Why the hell would I meet you?”
The wolf popped to his feet and let out a low growl.
“No.” Tristan said again, taking a step back. It occurred to him then, how crazy he looked to the casual person, talking to a dog so seriously. “Sorry, pal, but you’re the enemy.” Then again, the wolf did kill Castor…
The wolf growled again, shaking its head. He took a few steps towards Tristan as if he meant to get real close and Tristan scrambled back, pulling his gun on the animal.
“I think it’s time you left.” Because sure as shit, Tristan wasn’t ready to shoot the lycan just yet.
The wolf lowered his head, but this time it wasn’t in submission as a low, menacing growl trickled out of curled lips. Something metaphysical tingled inside Tristan and Kiba threw back his head in a long howl. And then he was running off in a speed Tristan had never seen from any wolf.
He dropped his shoulders and let out a sigh, then stiffened again when he realized that the barn was still burning right there in front of him. He tried for the hose but stopped before he ever got close. The barn was already lost.
“Dammit,” he grumbled, pulling out his phone. So much for the privacy they tried so hard to maintain state side. He stared in a daze at Castor’s remains as he phoned 911. And as he watched, the body finally caught aflame. By the time he hung up with the emergency services, the body was gone. That had nearly been Ash in France and he shuddered at the thought.
A long howl far off to the other side of the property brought him to his senses again. His clammy flesh ached with the rise of goose bumps and he took off towards the noise. The wolf was calling again and Tristan prayed with all his will that there wasn’t more lycanthrope out there to answer. Or that it was a victory cry.
He scaled the fence and pounded hard and fast towards where he thought the howls had been from. The wolf had stopped calling but then he heard voices, human voices. Or more rightly, vampire voices and one fae.
Lance was in a panic, talking so fast that Tristan couldn’t understand a word of it. Ash’s voice had gone low and scratchy, full of hurt and anger, frustration. But the last voice he heard as he approached the group, Desmond’s was as full of pain as he’d ever heard. There was something seriously wrong.
“Just get him inside, now,” Ash barked, her voice cracking with emotion.
Lance and Wren both looked up when Tristan stopped yards away. The fae was pale and spotted in blood. Wren looked away, ducking his head down to hide behind his hair as he often did.
“What the hell happened?” Tristan asked with wide eyes fixed on the Scot. He was barely conscious, a sweat across his face tinting his grey completion red.
Ash was walking towards him as she answered, “A lycanthrope bit him.”
Tristan’s mouth dropped open as he understood. “That son of a bitch.” Kiba just forced Tristan into that meeting, if nothing else to get his hands on him for revenge.
Ash stopped, her brow pulling together in confusion. “Wha—?” She stopped and the group looked up when the sound of sirens were suspiciously close. Apparently, when Tristan called, he wasn’t the first caller to report the fire and the department was already on the way.
“Uh, I had to call for a firetruck. The barn’s lost, I’m sorry.”
Ash sighed, shaking her head. “It is what it is. A new one can be built.” She spun to the others. “Hurry, get him inside and into one of the guestrooms, they are all daylight safe. Do what you can to make him comfortable and we’ll ensure no one finds him like this.”
The fae looked too shocked to exist in the now but Wren nodded and then he was lifting the larger, bleeding, panting, near unconscious man into his arms before darting across the lawn.
“Pollux?” Tristan asked.
Ash shook her head. “He and Nastasia got away with the lycanthrope. Castor?”
Tristan felt his throat close up. “He’s… dead. The fire took care of his remains.”
She wasn’t responding, only staring up at him. Her bright blue eyes had lost some of their sheen, the hope from them. “I, um…” Her voice broke and she blinked back the red tears that welled.
Tristan took her into his arms and held her tight. She smelled of the other vampires, he realized, of the woods and earth. She shook softly and he realized she was silently crying. “I know about Nastasia,” he said gently. “I know…” He shut his eyes and lowered his face into his hair, kissed her. “I know that she’s your daughter.”
Ash stiffened a moment and then collapsed against him. Instead of trying to keep he
r held upright, he slowly let them slip to the ground, her face still buried in his chest. The fire trucks were in the driveway now and they were all shouting at each other, trying to determine where the fire was exactly. They couldn’t see him and Ash hidden amongst the trees and he was grateful for the moment alone.
Tristan sighed and started to get up, to go direct the fire personnel, but Ash clutched to him. “Please stay. Lance is with them now.”
He slumped, pulling her close to him. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. I’m not mad, not really.” Just hurt that she couldn’t trust him with her secret.
She lifted her head to look up at him. He smiled gently at her and she let out a little sob. “I killed her, my own daughter. I killed her, made her a vampire and played right into Master’s hands. He took her from me fresh from the grave and destroyed all of the good in her. No, me. I was the one who destroyed the good in her. I…” She sobbed again and gave herself over to the tears. “I’m so ashamed.”
All Tristan could do was hold her and tell how much he loved her and would be there for her whatever she needed. He whispered in her ear and rocked her gently as she cried harder than he’d ever hear her cry before. He knew that sort of cry, the kind that just let it all out and unburdened the soul. He cried for his parents like that more than once. He just hoped he could help her with this tragedy more than he was able to help himself with his own.
9: Wasted Early Sunday Morning
TRISTAN was the lone towering weed in a garden of tulips. He was exhausted and filthy, covered in dried silt mud. Somehow, the fae had come out unscathed, but he looked even more beat than Tristan. The fire was out and the emergency personnel had finally cleared out. So now he was standing in his pristine, shiny new kitchen, feeling out of sorts. It still hadn’t really set in that this was his house. He didn’t know where anything was but was happily surprised to find the kitchen stocked with not only dishes but a few light snacks and drinks.
Lance was sitting on a stool, munching on a box of cookies in a stupor. He’d done a stellar job of not only appeasing all the different personnel on the property with concise, non-suspicious answers, but tending to the dying vampire in the upstairs guestroom without letting the humans know there were things not so human amongst them.
Primal Burdens: (The Uruwashi Series #5) Page 10