Mountainous and densely wooded.
Perfect cover for retrieval.
By vampire.
William assembled runners. They packed their gear and went out on their last mission. If they could not retrieve Julia this time, he knew that his window of opportunity would have closed to nothing.
Once she was in the womb of the Singers it would be an impossibility to get to her.
They afforded formidable protection. Something even his will and determination could not combat.
He imagined she would be important to them as well. Perhaps not labeled the same way she was with the vampire and werewolves. Maybe something else entirely?
Julia would be royal amongst their kind, William contemplated.
Like a queen.
*
The feral swept the hair that had fallen across the face of the female away from her eyes and studied her. It made a sweet longing like the finest blood rise unbidden within his wolf form. It was almost enough to make him slide back into his human shape. But not yet. His strange half-human form was the one he instinctively realized was best for the distance he needed. Even now he could feel his kind chasing after them.
After the female. He clutched her tighter to his body. Soon, he would need to feed and would have to leave her unconscious and unprotected for a time. He scowled. An outsider would have noted how comical it made his facial expressions, that of the wolf, the echo of humanity etched about the edges.
He stood smoothly with the tiny female in his arms, a sense of rightness and purpose propelling him naturally. He searched until he was satisfied, finding the perfect den in which to hide her. He did, tucking her inside the small rock crevice. He backed away, his hunger a gnawing monster in his belly. Before he could compromise his strength further by lingering over her, he fled. In search of prey, which would keep him busy for a time.
More than he liked.
Julia woke up with darkness all around her and was chilled to the bone. She had a coat but the damp coolness of her environment had sunk into her bones and weighed her down. She put her hands out in an exploratory movement and hit something solid. All around her Julia could feel the solid weight of something, smell the earth surrounding her.
She felt like she was in a tomb. Julia panicked... scraping the confines of the dark space, whimpering in fear. Before she lost it totally something occurred to her. Julia's memory slid into place and she remembered what had happened.
The great red werewolf. Actually, his fur was like wine. Not that it mattered. She closed her eyes tightly. What was she doing here? Where was he? What had he put her in?
Calm thyself, Julia!
Her lips set in a determined line, Julia lifted her head as high as she could without hitting the ceiling of where she lay. Ambient light reached her eyes and she could just make out her toes like twin hills in the distance. Julia thought that she may have been stuffed in some kind of hole.
For safekeeping.
She gulped, trying not to think of what that meant. Maybe a tasty meal for later? Julia shuddered at the thought. She needed to get the hell out of here! She experimented, wiggling around and discovered that the only place of escape was where her feet were. Well... she couldn't move at all. Maybe she had six inches on all sides.
Didn't matter. She'd never been more scared since that night, since Jason, her mind spoke, but she wasn't going to give up yet.
She began to wiggle her butt like an inchworm, bunching her muscles then scooting forward, inch by inch. Julia knew when she made headway because she could see better. Finally, Julia's legs were free of the hold and she was able to bend her knees and drag her body further, stabbing her heels into the dirt at her feet and pulling herself out incrementally. In less than five minutes she was free. Even the dappled sunlight through the canopy of trees was bright and full of glare after the utter darkness of the hole she'd been in. Julia turned, squinting, and looked at where she'd been. It was a narrow slot at the base of a natural rock formation. Barely more that a crevice.
No one would have ever seen her unless they knew she was there.
Julia stood and the pins and needles of returning blood flow almost brought her to her knees. But she persevered, breathing slowly, in and out. She was tired of fainting, being kidnapped and told who she was and what she was going to be.
And do.
Julia was her. And she was going to be okay.
Julia turned and walked away, casting a glance behind her as she went. She didn't have the vaguest clue where she was but she was going. She headed west, where the sun rode above the mountains. At least she had a direction.
Julia hoped it was not the same one the Were had used.
****
Homer
The phone buzzed shrilly beside his ear and he snatched it up, his irritation rising like the tide beyond the window of the police station. “Truman,” Karl answered in his gruff voice.
“It's Alexander,” the chief forensic specialist said.
“Hello! Sing me the tune I like to hear.”
“Okay... well, I don't know if it's what you want to hear but it's what I have.”
Confusing but okay, Karl thought. “Alright, lay it on me.”
“I've got the sample DNA typed but it's broad because I can't get a specific on it.”
“Cut the cryptic shit and just give it to me straight.”
“Canine genome.”
Alright, just like he figured. No big surprise there. “Okay, wolves then...”
Silence. Karl could almost hear the static on the normally clear lines.
He cleared his throat.
“Listen... this is going to sound completely insane.”
Karl waited.
“But the classification is not entirely accurate.”
“What are you saying, Alexander?”
“I'm saying you've got yourself a new class of canine here.”
“What... Bigfoot?” Karl gave a short bark of a laugh.
Alexander didn't laugh. “No. Not Bigfoot.”
“Then what?” This was crazy!
“Something else. Something so different we don't know where to put it.”
Karl leaned forward, his chair creaking under his weight. “Okay, give me what you know.”
“Okay, more insanity. Ready?”
“Hell yeah.” Karl tapped his ballpoint on the desk, listening. When Alexander was finished he whistled low in the back of his throat, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his face. Finally he said, “A guy could lose his reputation over what you're postulating.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“So... what's the plan?” Karl asked.
“Well, first off, I think the larger question is what are these things? Listen Truman, meet me back at the scene. Who knows, with some additional measurements I may have more answers.”
“Like what?”
“Size, for starters.”
“And?”
“Intelligence.”
They were quiet for a full minute, the line buzzing between them.
“You're not suggesting these things are the same ones that tossed that dump are you?”
“I am,” Alexander said.
“Holy shit,” Truman breathed out.
“Yeah.”
*
The bus driver looked as the forlorn girl entered his bus. When she told him where she wanted to go he was somehow reminded of that waif of a girl a few months back. The one with the whiskey eyes and phoney black hair dye. He wondered how she was doing now? His eyes met hers and she answered, “Kent.”
He nodded. “I know just where to take ya.”
“Good,” she said. Turning away, she headed to the back of his bus. His eye followed her in the rear view mirror. When he looked at her feet he saw some funky boots. They looked like hard-core fisherman boots, reaching to her calves. Ugly suckers, shit-brown in color. Huh... they didn't really seem to go with the rest of her.
He shifted his eyes back to the road, put
ting the great bus into gear, it ground out of park and into first gear, a plume of exhaust hailing its departure.
Cynthia leaned back, pushing her knees against the seat in front of her. She let her legs dangle and right before she closed her eyes, she caught sight of Jules' boots on her feet. She smiled through her tears.
I'll never forget you, Julia.
After a few moments, Cynthia fell asleep, exhaustion taking the reins for her, the tears drying on her cheeks as she slept.
The bus driver drove his route, twice. The same way he had before, giving the girl time to rest. When he was a couple blocks away from the women's shelter, he stopped.
This was as good a place as any, he thought. He jerked the lever and the bi-fold door opened with a burst of compressed air.
Cynthia's eyes snapped open and noted she was the sole person on the bus. Her eyes met those of the bus driver and she stood, her eyes flicking to his name embroidered on his uniform, Alfred.
When she came to the front she lowered her head and peeked out the bus door at a building she saw a couple of blocks away. She could just make out the sign, Freedom Affirmed.
She looked back at Alfred. “Where am I?”
His kind eyes remained steady on hers. “Kent,” he said.
She nodded. “Right, okay.” Cynthia began to descend the short bus steps as she heard the driver's voice behind her, “That place up there will give you a couple day's peace.”
There was no peace for her, Cynthia thought. But she turned anyway and looked into his kind eyes. “Thanks, I'll check it out.”
Alfred smiled and nodded, pushing the lever, the bus door closing with a snap and an air-driven hiss. Cynthia watched the bus glide away, the only proof it had ever been was the exhaust cloud in its wake.
Turning, she headed for the building.
It was as good a place as any, she thought. Her thoughts unconsciously echoing those of the driver.
Cynthia quickened her pace toward the building.
Toward a new life.
*
Julia walked quickly and made progress. However, she grew thirsty, her tongue swelling like a tumor in her mouth. She became so parched it was all she could think of. Shading her eyes, she looked up at the sun. Julia guessed it was well past noontime.
As she hiked the sun would move behind clouds, casting deep shadows in the forest. Julia's mind played tricks on her and she felt alone.
Scared... and foolish.
Mostly just scared, she decided. Finally, Julia thought she heard the tinkling sounds of moving water and when the forest floor grew greener and the topography of the ground at her feet began to slope away and downward, Julia figured she hit the jackpot. She grabbed branches to steady herself as she finessed her way down a short but steep ravine toward the sounds of a small stream. It was probably a river here in Washington, but by Alaska standards, it was a creek. She knelt by the crystal clear water and made a cup with both hands, letting the slow-moving water run over the top, then capturing the refreshing goodness in her already cold flesh. Ignoring her intellect she gulped greedy sips.
After she'd drunk her fill, Julia stood, wiping her hands off on her jeans. She turned and carefully made her way up the small ravine, refreshed and rejuvenated.
A short while later, she abandoned the tree cover and entered an open meadow, stopping for a moment as the sun came from behind the clouds, beating its warmth into her as she stood in the open. Julia closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sun and reveled in the stolen moment of warmth. When the first pain began to pierce her guts she gasped, folding her arms across her belly protectively.
What was this? She groaned out loud, holding herself.
Julia felt the water she had drunk not thirty minutes before begin to churn in her stomach like curdled milk. A chill rolled over her skin and she began to shiver, goose flesh rose like chicken skin and she trembled again. Julia looked around, feeling ill. Maybe she drank too much at one time?
This was the worse possible time to get the flu or some other crap. No worries, just the big bad wolf after her.
She didn't think being Little Red Riding Hood was very funny.
Zero amusement.
Julia pressed forward, clutching her stomach as she walked. Her eyes searched the dim forest. She might have to find someplace to hide until her insides felt better.
She moved into the soothing coolness of the forest as the first cramp tore into her and pain rode her like a wave coming to shore.
*
William and his five runners made haste. As soon as twilight had dropped its veil of protection over the city, they had left the shelter of the kiss.
The cattle parted like the Red Sea. Even in their ignorant stupor, there was some biological imperative that kicked in, a primal alert of sorts. When the vampire evacuated their lair, the steps leading to the street a yawning concrete hole of uncertainty and darkness, they moved aside unconsciously, giving the vampire a wide berth.
William moved quickly, Gabriel's words ringing in his head, Do not engage a large group of Singers. His eyes had met his leader's and he had asked, What is too many? There had been a pregnant pause then Gabriel had responded with a question, How many was too many at the Were stronghold?
William understood. In that case, had it not been for the feral Were he might have stood a chance, even with the pair of Singers. He was not certain. He shrugged the thought away. Julia and he were connected, William had Singer ancestry. That accounted for some things. Alliance, Blood-share. However old it had been, it would cast weight to the positive for him.
He swiped the words away with a dismissive mental shrug. Gabriel did not fully understand battle reasoning. The Were, for all their flaws, did. In the heat of battle, decisions were made. Some lacking in any rational foundation. Nevertheless, they were deemed critical then, in that moment. There may be a moment which arose in just that way in the next few hours, and William would be reactive. It was the only thing he had not allowed himself in prior instances.
He had thought it a luxury. Now he recognized it for what it was. Necessary. If he wanted Julia, he would have to use his emotions as his barometer, not rationale. This was not the time for mental negotiations.
Now was the time for action.
Their noses were on keen alert as they made their way toward a remote spot on the Olympic Peninsula. William had chosen the runners for ancestry instead of warrior prowess.
They could all shift.
As they did now.
To the casual observer, it would look like black wings and bodies, flying against the backdrop of the night's sky.
Only the eyes would give an observer pause.
Crimson.
Like blood.
CHAPTER 30
catalyst
Julia rolled over onto her side, her body shuddering in response.
She realized she'd made the gravest, most novice mistake in the world. She had drunk water from a creek. Untreated. Did her Alaskan upbringing teach her nothing?
Dumb!
She had Beaver Fever. Julia had consumed a ton of creek water and now it felt like someone was taking her insides out with a spoon. Worse, she wasn't throwing up or the other. Oh no. But a fine fever was there, securing a good foothold.
Climbing higher.
Julia remembered when she was young, her mother had said she was a “burner.” One of those kids that got rid of being sick by jerking their core temperature up to an insanely dangerous level.
Like now.
Julia shivered, crawling back into the crevice of an old log. The wooden embrace was full of sodden leaves and God knows what else. She flung her arm out, bending it at the elbow to fit inside the tight space. She shuddered, as she put the bare skin of her forehead against the cold wetness of her jacket, dampened by her environment.
Julia fell into a fitful doze, her body intermittently shaking from exhaustion and sickness. She was completely vulnerable and alone.
The cougar knew that, hav
ing scented its prey in the meadow. It followed the female back to where she lay inside a downed log in the forest. The cougar slunk closer, knowing that the prey was weakened. And safely inside its territory.
The cougar prowled toward the log.
It scented danger too late.
The werewolves moved in with typical stealth, tearing the cat's large head off its shoulders even as it turned to swipe. They executed the maneuver with precision and accuracy. Wasting nothing, they feasted on the most delicate part of their kill, leaving the remainder for possible consumption later. They were wary. Many scents were all around them. The enemy... and others.
What lay within the folds of the log was too precious for dispatch from the dumb creature of the forest.
A lowly cat no less.
They moved to the log, peering inside.
*
The ravens lit upon the branches of the trees. They had not discovered the scent of the Singer, but that of the dogs. Circling the position, spying the group of four Were with the sharpness of their eyesight in raven form, they settled on the highest branches. William sent out an alert to the others, a single cawing tone of specific meaning. They fell to the ground as a well-oiled machine, from thirty of forty feet of height, their wings melting into deadened flesh and bone as they dropped. It was a beautiful symphony of purposeful landing which began with feathers and ended with feet which touched the earth with a thud-less hop, silent.
But not silent enough.
The Alpha amongst the Were snapped his head up, his senses on full alert. His snout swung toward the three he'd brought with him and turned to his first, giving a snort. The other Were scooped the girl out of the log. The Alpha scented her sickness and paused. She was very ill. He breathed deeper, maybe not permanent? It didn't matter, the time to move was now.
Blood Singers (Blood Series, #1) Page 24