She moved forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her defender. One side wasn’t responding well, and she moved as close as she could for further protection. Across the room, Cassidy had picked up a partner as well. A blond wolven darted out from behind her to hassle the wolven who faced them. They were now four against a dozen, but they had the upper hand, Ruri could taste it. The wolven were confused and had lost all confidence. One whimpered and stumbled before righting herself. Her tail between her legs, she slunk from the room. Another tumbled to the ground right at Cassidy’s feet and received a sharp buffet to the head. It didn’t get up.
The dark gray wolven growled in the face of one of his packmates, displaying impressive teeth. Ruri snapped on the other side, and the wolven’s nerve broke. With a shrill whine, it turned tail and fled. Maybe they could survive this after all.
Chapter Forty-One
MacTavish was frothing with rage. Large globs of white spit drooled from his mouth to splat loudly upon the ground. He’d torn open the back of one of his lycans to get at Stiletto, who fought to the very edge of her abilities to keep the rogue Alpha away from her.
Malice kept three lycans at bay with broad sweeps of her katana. Every time one of the lycans tried to duck under the blade, it was met with an abrupt chop or lightning-quick lunge. They bled in more than one place, but so did she. One had gotten around and almost hamstrung her while its mates kept her busy in front. Her right leg wasn’t functioning quite right, and she couldn’t trust all her weight to it. Her ribs were one large mass of pain, but the left side sent agony stabbing deep within her whenever she tried to take a deep breath.
What she needed was a break, one small thing to go her way. So far such things had been few and far between. The lycans had figured out how to work together and her single edge over them was gone. So, they were capable of attacking together. Were they able to do the same on defense?
She took a deep breath, doing her best to ignore the pain in her side, and raised her katana over her head with one hand. With her left hand, she slid the wakizashi from its sheath at the back of her waist. The extra blade would give her the advantage on the attack but would open her up to their assaults. There was one who was a little shorter and slower than the others. He would be her first target. Once he was down, she would only have the two others to contend with.
She flowed from one foot to the other, never stopping, giving away none of her intentions. The lycans swiveled to follow her, not letting her get out of arms’ reach, always on the edge of closing on her. She feinted to one side, slashing the katana at the eyes of the biggest one. He raised a hand and flinched away from her, then roared a challenge when she dropped back. Malice whirled and darted toward the other two lycans, the big one on her tail. He dragged himself along on powerful forearms, sprinting on all fours after her. As soon as she cleared the small ring of lycans, Malice leaped straight up, flipping backward to land between two of them. Her ribs screamed at her, not to mention what her leg had screeched when she pushed off. Her landing was off and she stumbled to one side. Fortunately, the lycans had been bowled over by the big guy and were only beginning to get back to their feet.
The little one was slower than his buddy and barely had time to lift one claw-tipped hand to defend himself. The katana sheared through it as easily as it took the head from his shoulders.
The wind of something passing right behind her ruffled Malice’s hair. She turned in time to see the large lycan take down the remaining one. They tumbled end over end and crashed into a heap by a wall of safe-deposit boxes, some of which were open. The larger lycan ended up on the bottom and was having problems avoiding the teeth of the other. It ripped large chunks out of his arms.
Stunned at the turn of events, Malice stared for a moment. Cursing pulled her attention away from the two lycans mauling each other.
“You fucking bulldagger!” MacTavish heaved a chunk of masonry out of the way, exposing Stiletto to his attack. “How did you do it?” His words were almost impossible to understand, rage rendering nearly indistinct the sounds he forced past his muzzle. “How did you take my wolves?” He picked up a huge section of wall and raised it over his head. “Give. Them. Back!”
Stiletto dropped to the ground, flattening herself as the huge piece of concrete and rebar flew over her head and exploded into a cloud of dust. Smaller chunks rained down on her where she lay. When the dust cleared, Stiletto looked at her, eyes wide. A large chunk had landed across her leg, pinning her to the ground.
“Malice!” She reached out toward her, and Malice swore in her head. The last thing she needed was MacTavish’s attention, but there he was turning toward her.
“More of you?” He sneered, lip curling to reveal wicked teeth, yellow and jagged. “Cockroaches you are, scuttling out from under the toilet. I’ll crush you like I crushed her.”
“You never should have gone near my sister, MacTavish,” Malice said. She held the blades in front of her, ready to fend him off should he rush her. “That was your first mistake.”
“Mistake.” He grinned; then ran his tongue over his top teeth. “Not making her myself was the mistake. She would have been mine then. I would have watched while she ripped out your throat with her teeth.”
Malice took a careful step to one side, being careful not to show how much her bad leg hurt. She laughed. “There’s no way that would have happened. Blood is thicker than…whatever it is you have.”
He mirrored her movements, careful not to let her flank him. The crazed grin didn’t change. It remained pasted on his face with drool and froth dripping from one side. “That’s adorable. Your puny family bonds are no match for the bonds of the pack. I’ve seen it, I’ve used it.”
“And you don’t know my sister.” The trick was to keep him talking, but not too much longer. If he was allowing her to delay things, then he was probably nursing his own injuries. Her own wounds were healing, blood had long since stopped dripping down the back of her leg. It was the only reason she could still use it. Because of the knowledge and training drilled into her by her creators, Malice knew she could withstand almost anything and it would heal. She could come back from just about anything short of the loss of a limb. But where her healing was off the charts for a human, his would be far better than what she could manage. In a waiting game with a lycan, she was at a serious disadvantage.
“I know them all,” MacTavish said. “I’ve turned brothers and sisters, parents even. They all became mine.”
Malice kept moving. “Then where did they all end up? Why did you have to steal yourself a pack, if those you turned were so closely bound to you?”
His grin cracked, shifting to snarl and back to the grin so quickly she thought maybe she’d imagined it. “They get ideas eventually. Then they need to be taken care of. Still, some of them were around long enough to help me break down that weakling Dean’s defenses.” He kept moving with her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“And what am I doing?”
“You’re stalling until the rest of your friends can arrive. I’ll hear them coming long before they can help you, and you’ll be dead in less than a second. The rest of those weaklings might be scared of you, but I know you’re all flash.”
“That’s an interesting theory.” Malice stopped sliding around in a circle. “But you’re wrong.”
He came to a stop across from her and tilted his head, manic smile still in place. Behind him, Stiletto levered herself up on one arm and drove her knife through the back of his ankle and down into his foot.
MacTavish roared and swept his hand down behind himself, catching Stiletto on the side of the head and pivoting her body to one side. Her pinned leg didn’t move, but the rest of her was brushed aside like a child’s toy.
It was the opening Malice had been looking for. She’d hoped Stiletto would realize what she was doing, and her squadmate hadn’t disappointed. Her leg protested but didn’t slow her down, and she took off toward the rogue Alpha. Sh
e covered those the three paces in less time than it took to blink an eye, and yet he was already turning back toward her when she came within reach. The claw-tipped hand was easy enough to dodge; she’d seen that move coming. She dodged to the inside, leading with the katana, piercing his pelt as if it were paper. The katana slid through him with little resistance, but she still felt it when the tip exited through his back.
MacTavish closed his jaws around her left shoulder with a snap that shivered through her entire body. Agony overwhelmed her, centering on the shoulder that he pulped by shaking his head back and forth. More than one tooth ground against bone, and the wakizashi dropped from her nerveless fingers. She wasn’t going anywhere, and there was only one way she would survive.
Malice put her weight behind the katana that protruded from his abdomen, pushing it up, seeking out a vital organ. Without momentum behind it, the blade didn’t cut as cleanly and she had to saw it back and forth to move it. He growled around his mouthful of shoulder and Malice became dimly aware that she was screaming.
She pulled back on the katana, drawing it out of his body. Both of his hands were wrapped around her, claws piercing the skin of her back, rending deeply. The pain would stop; it was simply one more sensation like hunger or cold. It could be ignored as easily. She winced at a particularly savage tear. Maybe not that easily. By some miracle, he hadn’t hit any major blood vessels yet. She could fight until she bled out or until she lost a limb or two.
The katana shook in her hand and she steadied herself; then thrust the blade forward, straight at his heart. Her aim was true and MacTavish stiffened when the katana burst through his fur-covered skin and sought out his most vital organ. His claws dug even deeper, and her shoulder was ripped to tattered shreds when he ripped his head free in an agonized howl. The sound was drowned by a gout of blood and he coughed. The claws slid out of her skin as his grip slackened. He looked at her blankly for a moment, then his eyes glassed over and he toppled backward, landing on Stiletto. She didn’t move at all.
Malice stood dumbly without any weapons in her hands. Her katana stood proudly in MacTavish’s chest and her wakizashi was somewhere on the ground next to her. Something scraped over concrete behind her and she whirled or tried to. She ended up stumbling in a circle. She’d completely forgotten about the two lycans who’d been fighting in the corner. The big one was pulling himself across the broken floor, heading for the hole the semi had punched in the side of the vault. He ignored her completely. Behind him, the other lycan lay in a bloody heap. Rather most of him did. His head was a little way beyond the rest of his body. That was one who wouldn’t be getting up again.
She turned to consider MacTavish for a second. He was down, but until his head was removed from his body, she couldn’t be certain he was dead. It was possible to kill a lycan through massive trauma, but the best way to be sure he wouldn’t come back was destroying or separating the upper spinal column.
Wearily, she picked up the second blade and made her way over to him. Her left arm was useless and her torso a mass of pain, but there was still work to do. There was always more work to do. She put the blade to his throat and pushed down. His pelt resisted the blade before his head parted with his body and rolled over. The eyes stared accusingly at her, but she paid them no mind. What had happened to MacTavish had been necessary.
She pulled her katana out of MacTavish’s chest and cleaned it off on a clean patch of fur before sliding it home in its scabbard. She stepped around his corpse to contemplate Stiletto. Her squadmate was still alive. Her chest rose and fell, though slowly.
Malice squatted next to her and cleaned the wakizashi before stowing it as well. A terrible thought had occurred to her when she saw that Stiletto was down. The woman was a threat to her family. Given the opportunity, she would run straight to Uncle Ralph and his superiors, she’d said as much. Before Malice could do anything about it, they would take Cassidy. If she ever saw her sister again, she would be a government guinea pig, and that was if she didn’t die on some surgeon’s dissection table.
Stiletto was a comrade, but she was also a threat. Covered as she was with still-bleeding wounds, it was unlikely she would survive without some help. If Malice had died taking out MacTavish, Stiletto would have died also. Malice took a deep breath and lifted her hand. It wavered slightly. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop it shaking.
There might be some discrepancies in our accounts. Stiletto’s not-so-veiled threat rang in her ears. She paused; then reached forward, closing her hand over Stiletto’s nose and mouth. She held it there, but for how long she had no idea. There was no struggle for breath, there was nothing at all. Stiletto was dead. There could be no discrepancies now. Cassidy was safe. Was the price too high? Could she even put a price on keeping her family safe and whole?
Suddenly sick of the small space and the carnage and death inside it, Mary Alice stood. Everything shifted to the side and she put out a hand to steady herself. The walls felt like they were seconds from toppling over and burying her. She had to get out. Now. She scrambled over the pile of rubble at the lycans’ improvised entrance, paying no attention to the blood splattering down on the debris in her wake. It was no more than she deserved. The parking lot smelled less of death, and she took a deep breath. The skin on her hands was torn to shreds from her climb over chunks of concrete and rebar. She gazed down at her trembling fingers. The ache in her hands was nothing compared to the desperate agony that threatened to hollow out her heart. She pulled out her phone and smeared her way through the touch interface, pausing to rub blood off the screen. She took a deep breath and shoved the emotions away in that little compartment in the back of her brain. They were in good company back there.
“Uncle Ralph?” Malice’s voice was all business. “It’s done. I need a cleanup crew.” Mary Alice paused and allowed some pain to seep back into her voice. “And I need a body bag.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The hotel no longer smelled like death, and for that Ruri was thankful. It didn’t smell like home either. The mix of scents was different now, and it had sat empty long enough to lose the vitality she associated with a lived-in place. She pushed aside a treadmill to clean shattered glass out from under it. She’d broken the window, after all. It only made sense that she be the one to clean up the mess.
Plenty of things still needed fixing, and the other wolven had been busy scrubbing the place down. Even with her sensitive nose, she was no longer overwhelmed by the stench of decay. Ruri had been hesitant to come back to the hotel, but the Sayre Avenue house was much too small for all the wolven who had decided to come with Cassidy.
She’d known the exact moment MacTavish died as they fought for their lives in those filthy row houses. A few of the wolven they’d been facing had continued to battle, but most of them had become disoriented, almost delirious, before breaking off. Once it became obvious their Alpha was gone, they’d lost all will to fight. At that point, Ruri still had no idea that Cassidy had managed to pull away the allegiance of that handful of wolven. It was something she was in no way supposed to be able to do, but somehow Cassidy had managed. Ruri chalked it up to one more thing that made Cassidy different than any other wolven she’d met.
Cassidy had given the other wolven the choice to come with her if they wanted to. Ruri suspected that she’d sealed more of their loyalty with that one choice than she would have by forcing them to submit. Most of them had pledged themselves to Cassidy, but a few had decided not to.
“That’s fine,” Cassidy had said. “But you can’t stay around here. I won’t have you threatening my people. You have two days to get what you need, then move on. After that, you know how you’ll be dealt with.”
They’d known, even if Cassidy hadn’t, though Ruri was sure she had an inkling. Territory was of utmost importance to wolven, and blood was shed over it more often than not. Ruri wasn’t sure what Cassidy was going to do about the remainder of the wolven who’d turned her. Brittney and one other wolven were d
ead, but the other three had survived. Mary Alice had no idea what Cassidy planned for them either. They’d turned Cassidy, but she seemed to hold little animus toward them for it. They’d also helped turn the tide at the end; maybe that had earned them their reprieve. Those three hadn’t gotten the option of leaving. Cassidy seemed to have bound them to her more tightly even than the others.
All the broken glass had been swept up, and Ruri’s sharp eyes didn’t make out any more pieces. It was time to bring out the shop vac and give the place a thorough once-over. Instead of heading down to the basement workshop to get the vacuum, Ruri stood there. She was going through the motions; she could feel it.
Maybe it had to do with the way the other wolven treated her, even the ones from her original pack. She didn’t feel a part of this new family. She felt like the friend of a friend who was grudgingly tolerated at Thanksgiving dinner. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They’d taken care of MacTavish, the pack had a new Alpha; everything should have been better. And maybe it was, but not for her.
Laughter preceded a group of three wolven into the exercise room. As soon as they saw her, the merriment dried up.
“I’m heading out,” Ruri said lightly. There wasn’t a whole lot of point in pretending it didn’t hurt; they’d be able to smell her upset almost immediately. There also wasn’t much point in making things awkward, which is what her continued presence seemed to be doing. “I’ll see you around.”
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