“I’m not sure you do,” he whispered. “Gabby thinks the curse Eleanor put on you was to make you like her. To ready your body to bear the child.”
Her breath hitched. “A wraith? I was going to turn into a wraith?”
“I don’t know, but we need to leave. Now. After Sheera’s games at dinner, I don’t trust the Triskele. We shouldn’t have come here.”
“What do you mean?” Isobel asked as he turned and began to retrieve his clothes from the floor.
“Sheera was given her immortality by Eleanor. I always knew this, but I never knew what she did for the Unhallowed in return. She and I always had an unsteady alliance. She helped me evade them once…”
“About two hundred years ago?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
Nye hauled up his trousers and buttoned the fly. “About then.”
“What is it with you and your ex-girlfriends?”
“Listen, Isobel. There’s a great deal more to this story, and I will tell it to you, but now is not the time. We need to leave.”
Her pulse began to speed up, and she nodded. Picking up the rest of her clothes, she dressed haphazardly, mismatching the buttons on her blouse before shoving her feet into her boots.
Nye put his cell into his pocket as she stuffed the rest of their belongings into her handbag, thankful they’d traveled light. When they’d left the Hampstead manor, they hadn’t intended on staying overnight, not until Sheera had demanded they attend a feast after refusing point-blank to talk about the Unhallowed.
“She was stalling, wasn’t she?” Isobel asked, the pieces of the puzzle slotting together. “She knew about Eleanor’s plan… She tricked us into…” Her stomach heaved. “I feel sick.”
“Which is why we need to get out of here,” Nye said, grasping her hand.
If the ritual and the curse were cast for the sole purpose of a pregnancy, then one time was all it took. There was an almost one hundred percent chance she was going to become a mother in nine months.
Tricked into having sex with her vampire boyfriend so she could get knocked up with a magical baby that was genetically engineered by a wraith. And she’d thought her kidnapping encounter with an insane vampire-fairy hybrid was whacked.
Eleanor needed the baby to resurrect the Unhallowed. That’s what this was about, right? Isobel was nothing but an incubator, and as soon as the baby was born…end of the line.
“She’s coming,” she said, beginning to hyperventilate. “Eleanor’s coming for me.”
“Stay with me,” Nye said, opening the bedroom door and peering out into the hall. “Remain quiet, and don’t let go of my hand. I’ll get you out of here, Isobel. Trust me.”
“Alex is going to snap you in half,” she babbled. “Knocking up his sister.”
Nye turned and slid his hand over her mouth. “I need to you keep calm. Listen…”
She trembled under his grasp and did as he bade, the silence of the castle whooshing in her ears. Silence wasn’t meant to sound like anything unless all those years of clubbing in her early university days had given her tinnitus. Then she heard it. A howl so full of pain, it lodged in her heart and twisted.
She tugged at Nye’s hand. “Is that?”
“A wolf.” He glanced at the roof. “Right above us.”
As soon as he said it, a cacophony of answering calls sounded throughout the compound. Way too many for her to count.
“Nye,” she began uneasily. “What happens when a wolf bites a vampire?”
“Nothing good,” he replied, looking worried.
He tugged on her hand, and they began their flight through the castle, edging forward slowly in case they were met with resistance. The wolves would track them, hunting their prey with a heightened sense of smell and the intelligence of a human mind. She had to place all of her trust in Nye, but after the night they’d shared together, and after everything else…it was a no brainer. Isobel would follow him to the ends of the earth, no questions asked.
The sound of claws scraping on the stone floor echoed behind them as they twisted and turned through the maze of hallways and rooms in the castle. As soon as they found a route to an exit, Nye would pull her away, and a moment later, a wolf appeared. They were being herded.
Nye began searching behind tapestries as they went, looking for another way out, and it wasn’t until Isobel was sure they weren’t getting away that he found a concealed entrance.
Immediately, he pulled her into the darkened space, holding her steady as a wolf passed by their location. Glancing behind her, Isobel saw the spiral staircase, and her heart sank. The only way they could go was up. In the movies, everyone knew you weren’t supposed to go upstairs, but the actors always did, and just when they thought they had gotten away from the serial killer, they popped out from underneath the bed and slashed the heroine to pieces. But this was real life, and it was either up there or back the way they came.
Nye made the decision for her, and once the wolf had passed the tapestry, they began to climb.
He led her higher and higher, her legs beginning to protest at all the stairs. It was a narrow space, likely the original staircase. Each step was twice as high as she was used to, her shoulders barely squeezing through the gap. Her right hand grasped the iron pole that ran directly up the center, and her left held onto the rope, fixed to the wall with iron loops, for dear life.
Finally, they emerged out into the night, right at the top of one of the outer towers. There was nowhere to go but back the way they came or over the edge.
They were trapped.
A single lonely chair sat by the wall along with an empty coffee cup on the ground and an abandoned coat slung over the seat. A dark pile on the other side of the small tower turned out to be someone’s discarded clothing. Whoever had been stationed here on watch had obviously changed into a wolf and had since scurried off to join the others.
Nye snatched the coat from the chair and sniffed it before placing it around Isobel’s shoulders. “Here, this will mask your scent for now.”
She clutched it tight, more in an attempt to shield herself from the pack than the cold. “What do we do now? We’re trapped up here.”
Looking over the edge of the tower, all she could see was the five-story drop to the ground below. When a group of wolves darted across the clearing, she stumbled back.
“Listen to me, Isobel,” Nye said, forcing her to look at him. “You’ll be safe here until I lead them away. Once you’re clear, you need to run. Get a car, any car, and head back to the manor. I will meet you on the road.”
“But how will you find me?” she asked, clutching him to her. “I can’t leave you behind.”
“Trust me,” he murmured, his green eyes searching hers. “I will meet you on the road.”
“But… What if I—”
“Don’t,” he said, interrupting her. “No what ifs. You have to.”
He kissed her swiftly and then climbed up onto the parapet. He stood on the edge, balancing lithely, and glanced over his shoulder.
“Remember,” he said. “I’ll find you on the road.” Their eyes met, and for a brief second, something profound passed between them, then he spread his arms wide and fell, dropping off the edge like an Olympic diver.
Rushing forward, Isobel glanced over the wall and gasped as she saw him twist through the air like a cat before colliding feet first on the ground.
Holy crap! That was her boyfriend?
The moment he hit, he sprang forth and disappeared faster than her human eyes could follow. A howl sounded on the air, then another, and soon, the pack began moving away from the castle. Whatever Nye was doing, it was working.
Turning toward the door, Isobel knew it was now or never. She had to make a break for it.
Chapter 9
Nye hit the ground and sprang forward, moving away from the tower.
He felt her lingering presence above as he heard the sound of the wolves as they emerged from the castle and the surrounding grounds. They were
drawn by the sound of him hitting the earth, the thud echoing through the ground. With Isobel’s scent masked, they would assume she was with him and give chase. All she needed was enough time to get out before Eleanor showed up.
The wolves would have been tasked with rounding them up and holding them until the wraith arrived. What would happen then Nye didn’t want to know. If Isobel was pregnant…
Him? A father? The notion was as absurd as a vampire being able to procreate. Gabby was wrong.
There was no doubt in his mind that Sheera’s sire bond was in full effect, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire pack knew his location. In their animal form, their minds would be linked and their senses in harmony to maximize the hunt. The hard part was not getting caught, but the harder part was not getting bit.
Darting through the trees, he sensed them following, the sound of their claws scraping on earth and their labored breathing reaching his ears through the darkness. The light of the full moon filtered through the trees lighting his way even though he didn’t need it. His vampire-enhanced eyesight was a match for the wolves that pursued him.
He banked left, sensing a presence breaking through the trees beside him. The shape of a large wolf emerged, its russet colored fur streaked with sweat. Its jaws snapped as it caught his scent and weaved through the underbrush in an attempt to get closer.
Skidding to a halt, Nye clapped his hands, drawing its attention, and it did the same. Facing off with the vampire, it began to growl in warning, lowering its head and readying itself to strike.
“Here, puppy, puppy, puppy,” Nye said, goading it into action. “You want me? Come here and fetch.”
The wolf pounced, growling and snapping, and the spy dodged. Then he began running, leading the enemy from the castle and into the forest—far, far away from Isobel.
Hoping he’d given her enough time, he began to run faster in an attempt to lose the pack in the forest. Then he would double back and meet Isobel on the road just as he’d promised. He couldn’t fight a hundred wolves on his own, let alone Eleanor.
Breaking through a line of trees, he found himself in a clearing. On the opposite side, a dozen wolves emerged, leaping into the light of the moon.
Skidding to a stop, Nye’s heart pounded wildly as he realized he was the one who’d been lured. Cursing, he turned, looking for a way out, but there was none. He’d been herded like a bloody sheep.
The wolves circled him, and every so often, one would dart forward and snap their jaws at his ankles before retreating back into line. More and more appeared through the trees, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. He was trapped in a sea of werewolves. The entire Triskele pack watched and waited, but none struck. They were waiting for their alpha.
Nye waited along with them, hoping Sheera was alone and not accompanied by Eleanor. His thoughts went to Isobel, and he hoped to all that was good in the world she’d had enough time to escape. If he didn’t make it, then at least she would be able to get back to the manor. She’d be safe with Gabby and Tristan—if he was finished sulking—and Reed and the Six under the knight’s command.
He didn’t have to wait long. The wolves began to part, letting through their leader. The silver wolf was larger than the rest, but he didn’t need to see her to understand who she was. He’d recognize her unearthly blue eyes anywhere, and they were still as prominent in her wolf form as her human.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said as Sheera stood before him, her head level with his chest. “You control the fate of your pack. Your pack, Sheera, not hers. Don’t let Eleanor enslave your people.”
Wolf-Sheera licked her lips before letting out a soft whine.
“I saved you once,” he murmured. “Remember? When you were a girl?” She lowered her head slightly, listening. “Now it’s time to save yourself…and your pack.”
She began to growl softly, making her displeasure clear, but Nye wasn’t finished. He had to convince her to take the noble path before they were all lost to the Unhallowed. He didn’t care what happened to him, he couldn’t allow Eleanor to resurrect her coven of wraiths…and he couldn’t allow her to get her hands on Isobel.
“They’ll be held to the whims of the moon, but isn’t that better than being tied to a wraith?” he went on. “Think of what she’ll ask them to do through you. Do you want that kind of suffering on your conscience?”
She lowered her snout, her eyes never leaving his. Was her movement a sign of her acquiescence?
“You sacrificed yourself once, and now you’re the only one who has the power to save them from an eternity of slavery. You know what you have to do,” he said, holding out his hand. “Break the sire bond, and set them free.”
Wolf-Sheera padded forward and pressed her nose against his skin before rubbing her cheek against his palm. Unafraid, he knelt before her and stared into her shimmering blue eyes.
“I know,” he said. “I won’t leave you.”
She butted her head against his chest and curled up on the ground, her chest beginning to heave as the magic left her body. It was as simple as that. She willed it, and so it was.
The pack began to whine, and one by one, each let out a howl, calling to the moon and their alpha, who was withering away before them. To break the sire bond, she had to let go of her immortality. She knew it, and he knew it, but deep down, Sheera had always been loyal to her people and no one else. Everything she’d done—bargaining with Eleanor all those years ago—she’d done for them.
The sound of a hundred wolves mourning the only alpha they’d ever known echoed around him, their despair rolling out across the forest. Nye sat next to Sheera, her silvery head resting in his lap. Stroking his fingers through the soft hair behind her ears, he waited, soothing her as the last of her life left the world and stepped into the next.
One by one, the pack turned their backs and disappeared through the trees, melting into the darkness until finally, he was alone with Sheera’s body.
They would return once the moon had set, and they would take her for burial, but for now, the sky was her only company. The sky and Nye.
He couldn’t blame her for what had happened tonight. Eleanor’s poisonous stench was all over this. The Triskele’s transformation was forced, he was sure of it, the immortality the wraith had given Sheera imbued with certain traits that gave her control over the wolf. They’d been played just as Nye and Isobel had.
He stood and cast one more look at the silver wolf, the mighty Triskele alpha, and disappeared into the trees.
He had to find Isobel.
Isobel powered down the stairs, her body covered in sweat and her lungs burning.
Sprinting through the empty castle, she fumbled in her bag for the car keys, positive she’d seen Nye drop them in when they’d arrived the previous day. It was well past midnight now, somewhere between the witching hour and sunrise, but it didn’t matter. She was wide-awake and full of fear that almost blinded her.
If she were pregnant, then there was no way she was letting Eleanor get her slimy hands on her child. Nye’s and her child.
As her fingers brushed against the keys, her heart skipped a beat in relief. Finding herself in the main entrance of the castle, she pushed against the front door and emerged out into the night. Now where did the car go? Spying it to the side of the driveway, she ran, her boots crunching on the gravel underfoot.
Pressing the button on the fob, the indicators flashed orange the locking mechanism disengaged. Yanking open the door, she threw her bag onto the back seat and slid behind the wheel.
Fumbling with the keys, she searched for the ignition but couldn’t find it. Cursing, she realized it was a push-button start, and the key only had to be inside for it to work, so she jammed her finger on the button. Immediately, the engine turned over and began to purr.
Shoving the gearstick into drive, she glanced up and cried out, her heart twisting and her stomach flying into her throat. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy. Just running out of the cas
tle, not being stopped by anyone, and then driving off into the sunset. Stupid, naive, little Isobel!
Not ten meters in front of her stood the epic bitch known as Eleanor. Isobel didn’t think it was possible to hate someone with as much pure loathing as she did right then, but she felt her veins burn. Why wouldn’t she just piss the hell off already? What did she ever do to her?
Isobel’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as Eleanor’s lips curved in triumph. She raised her hand, but Izzy wasn’t waiting around to see what would happen. It was time to take the wraith down a peg or two. If she was knocked up with Nye’s magical baby, there was no way in hell that bitch was getting her hands on it, no matter what it ended up being. It was hers and Nye’s and no one else’s baby. A child was not a thing.
“Bitch,” Isobel cursed. “Eat shit.”
She slammed her foot on the accelerator, pushing it right to the floor. The car roared, the back tires spinning in the gravel. It fishtailed slightly to the left, and she eased up on the gas. It was enough to allow the tires to catch, and the car powered forward.
The split second before the hood collided with Eleanor, the wraith’s eyes widened in surprise, then she slammed into the windshield, cracking the glass before sailing up over the roof.
Isobel didn’t stop to see the carnage. She sped down the driveway and careened out onto the highway, almost smashing into a lorry. The driver blasted his horn as she righted the wheel, the tires screeching as her heart stuck in her throat.
She began to laugh hysterically, tears rolling down her face. Holy shit! Did she just run over Eleanor and live to tell the tale?
Her laughter soon turned into sobs as she drove, her heart twisting. Where was Nye? He said he would meet her on the road, but he was nowhere in sight as she settled the car into the left lane, her hands shaking and her stomach rolling. She had to keep going. He told her to keep going.
Realizing she hadn’t switched on the headlights, she turned the dial on the side of the steering wheel, and the road ahead was illuminated, the taillights of the lorry already disappearing off in the distance. The road was empty apart from her, and she kept driving, hoping she hadn’t already passed Nye while she was freaking out.
The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga) Page 8