Metal groaned and grated as the door buckled, and sparks flew as the panel was pulled out of its frame.
She stepped inside the room, her body thrumming with cold fury. Candles were lit around the room, and a pot of some sort of foul-smelling liquid simmered on a stove. A woman recoiled from the table, the candle she held in her hand wavering, then dropping, the light winking out. Vivianne looked down at the babe on the table, recognizing the blue blanket he lay upon.
A shadowy figure stepped forward to scoop up the baby, and she met the man’s eyes, clearly showing the red of her own eyes.
“What the hell have you done, Father?”
* * *
Zane peered through the binoculars, eyeing the vampires walking along the perimeter fence. The GPS signal from Vivianne’s phone was weak, but Matthias had some wicked tech, and they’d managed to trace it to this site near the mouth of the Kingfisher River. It was well-hidden, nestled up to the base of a mountain, with the stone and glass architecture blending into and reflecting the surrounds. “This place is well-guarded. I count seven on the roof, eighteen on the ground.” The facility had been built in the shape of a triangle, three stories high—and that didn’t factor any possible levels below the surface.
“This place is huge. How the hell did he do this in such a short time?”
“He didn’t,” Dave said. “He had help. This place would have taken nearly a year to build, at least. Someone’s done most of the build before Marchetta officially purchased the land, and then masked it.”
Zane frowned. “Who? This place is completely off-grid.”
Matthias nodded. “He’s right. Not even Reform satellite imagery shows this place exists.”
“Someone with deep pockets, and who wouldn’t mind starting a war between vampires and werewolves,” Dave muttered.
“A human?” Zane suggested.
Dave shook his head. “A witch.”
Matthias looked at Zane, then at Dave. “You never mentioned we were going up against some master witch.”
“You’re not. You’re going up against one of her elders.”
“Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” Zane muttered. You didn’t mess with witches if you didn’t have to. In this case, though, Vivianne was inside there, so he had to. But an elder? They were powerful.
“I’ll take care of the witch. You,” he said, pointing to Matthias, “take care of the vamps. You,” he said, pointing to Zane, “go in there and rescue your vampy little girlfriend, your friend, and the scion babe.” Dave rubbed his hands together as he rose from behind the fallen tree log. “Right. That’s the plan.”
Zane’s hand was quick as he grasped Dave’s shoulder and pulled him back down. “Yeah, we need more than that for the plan to work.”
Matthias nodded, then looked over his shoulder. Below were gathered some Alpine, Woodland and River guardians, all of whom were itching to spill some vampire blood. He signaled one of the Woodland guardians, Dion, as well as Caleb, alpha prime of River Pack. Dion moved through the forest like a shadow until he could hunker down next to his alpha prime. He slapped a hand on Zane’s shoulder. Caleb joined them shortly, and Matthias introduced him to Zane.
“Heard you were back from the dead,” Dion murmured. “Good to see you.”
Zane smiled. When Dion and he had first met, they had been guardians of warring packs. Battling against Rafe Woodland had created a mutual respect that he still valued today. “Thanks.”
Dave held up his hand. “No chick flick moments. Let’s get this done.”
Vampire strongholds were known as icebergs. What you saw above ground was roughly ten percent of what you were dealing with. After several minutes of harsh whispering, they all nodded in accord. Each pack had valued members inside, but it was Caleb’s daughter who’d been captured, and they all conceded that nothing should stand in the way of a father rescuing his daughter, so River Pack were going in first.
“You’re sure you don’t want any backup in the tunnel?” Caleb asked Zane.
Zane shook his head. “No. Keep your guys out of there.”
Caleb frowned. “But you don’t know how many bloodsuckers will be there. Let me send five of my men—”
“No.” Zane’s voice was quiet, emphatic. He was here for Nate, for J.J., and the other werewolves, but he wasn’t sure what kind of control he’d have in battle once blood was spilled, and he didn’t want the werewolves anywhere near him.
“Let him go,” Matthias said, placing his hand on Caleb’s arm. The russet-haired alpha prime gave him a look of disbelief, and Matthias grinned. “He’s spoiling for a fight. Give him room.”
Zane knew Nate had spoken to Matthias about him. This was Matthias’s way of covering for him, but also ensuring the safety of the other lycans, and Zane gave him a slight nod of gratitude.
“I’ll go with him,” Dave said, jerking his thumb in Zane’s direction. Zane frowned. Uh, hell no. He shook his head, opening his mouth to argue. The witch leaned over and placed his hand on Zane’s arm. “You and I know each other very well. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”
Zane’s frown deepened as he met his own reflection in Dave’s sunglasses. The witch’s eyebrows rose as he stared at him meaningfully. Did Dave mean he knew, knew? Like, everything? The man nodded, just once.
Great. Did the witch read minds as well? Dave winked behind his sunglasses, and Zane looked away. Dave read minds.
Caleb shrugged. “Okay, if that’s how you want to do it—”
“That’s how I want to do it,” Zane said. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“A baby, Dad? That’s low, even for you.” Vivianne glared at her father as he held J.J. The baby was shrieking, his little limbs trembling with outrage.
Vincent eyed his daughter. “I see you didn’t stick to the guided tour. You always were too damn curious for your own good.”
“Give me the baby.” Vivianne held her arms out. J.J.’s cries were loud, such a fierce little scream from the baby boy, the noise was breaking her heart.
Her father’s eyebrows rose. “This baby? Do you know how fortunate we were to get him? He’s a scion, Vivianne. The son of not just one, but two alpha primes.”
Her blood iced a little in her veins at his words. “Where is his mother?” What had he done to Samantha? She couldn’t see how the alpha prime would just leave her son in the arms of the enemy—and her father most definitely was this boy’s mortal enemy.
Her father shrugged. “I don’t know. She wasn’t traveling with him—otherwise I’d have an alpha prime to test, as well. No, this one was travelling with a guardian. He’s currently cooling his heels.”
Nate. He had to mean Nate. Vivianne couldn’t see Samantha entrusting anyone other than the guardian prime with her son’s life. Zane must be going out of his mind. Samantha must be, too. Her own beast was reacting, and she shivered with disgust. This time her father had gone too far.
“Give me the baby,” she repeated.
Vincent smiled. “Have I introduced you to my colleague?” he said, lifting his chin in the direction of the middle-aged woman who was now holding out a small sprig of something that made Vivianne frown. Verbena. Toxic to vampires. “Meet Angelica Mendez, my resident witch.”
The woman muttered something, a chant in a different language, and then crushed the sprig in her hands, uncurled her fist, and blew on her palm, sending particles of the plant toward Vivianne.
Vivianne’s throat started to swell, and her eyes widened as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes were burning, and she blinked furiously, doubling over as the plant’s effects hit her. Her vision went blurry and gray, and she fell to her knees, her hand catching on the table to brace herself. Verbena was toxic to vampires. Tears formed, and through her blurry vision she saw her father use another door.
Leaving her to...die?
He
r beast howled with rage, arching inside her, and she gave into the instinct, just as she heard a dull thunk, and a clatter. She reached for her beast, releasing her, and the shift into her werewolf form was seamless. She rolled to her feet, shaking off the effects of the verbena. Werewolves weren’t affected by the plant—a bonus she now discovered that worked in her favor. She turned to growl at the woman.
The witch lay on the floor unconscious, the pot from the saucepan upended over the stove, creating a harsh, astringent smell in the small room.
Harris dropped the fire extinguisher, his eyes wide as he held his hands up, backing toward the doorway he’d just entered. “Holy shit.”
Vivianne glanced up at Harris, who stared at her in awe. “Holy friggin’ crap.” He nodded calmly. “Nice Vivianne.”
She turned back to the door her father had used. She couldn’t believe he’d not only used a witch, but used the witch against his own daughter, leaving her to a harsh, painful death. Her beast whimpered at the pain that sparked, but she squelched it. She could wallow in that misery later—she had an eternity to do that. On the other hand, J.J. didn’t. Her father valued his quest for vengeance against the lycans over family. He was prepared to harm a baby. She shook her head. Those were not the actions of the loving father she remembered from her childhood. No, these were the actions of a man twisted by hate and bitterness, and prepared to risk his family to serve his own interests. And now he had J.J.
She may never be a mother, but there was no mistaking the protective, almost maternal need that now drove her. She had to save J.J. Vivianne turned at the table, and sniffed at the blue blanket. So many notes. Talcum powder. Milk. A hint of evergreen that was all J.J.
She lifted her nose, smelling the air carefully, until she could find his evergreen scent, and followed it. She padded through that second doorway, nose to the ground, and bounded along the hallway, hesitating once when the hall ended in a T-intersection. She stepped down the left corridor, but the scent faded, so turned and raced down the right corridor, heart beating in her need to rescue the baby.
She howled, a cry that was long and mournful, full of her rage and grief. It seemed to set off a cacophony of howls from the captured lycans, until the complex reverberated with the sound of outraged werewolves.
Chapter 20
Zane hunkered down behind a boulder, waiting for the guard to make his pass across the mouth of the tunnel. His phone vibrated, and he frowned, checking to see if it was a message from Matthias Dave Carter, who was a few meters back, ready to sweep through behind him.
The vampire passed. Zane reared up silently and snapped the man’s neck, lowering him to the ground behind the boulder. There was a shout from within the tunnel, and Zane grimaced. Here comes the 90 percent. He held up his hand to Dave, telling him silently to hold his position, then ran into the tunnel. He could see the dark shadows running toward him, and the red haze rose again, bringing everything into crystal clarity. His incisors lengthened, and he roared as he encountered the first vampire guardian.
He grasped the man by the shoulders, saw the momentary shock as the vampire looked at his face, and then threw the man back against the rock wall. He heard the snap of the man’s spine. Quickly, he grasped the man’s chin and twisted it to the side, breaking his neck. The man would rejuvenate, but at least he’d be out cold and didn’t have to go through the pain of his spine knitting back into place.
A howl echoed along the tunnel. Angry, righteous, with a hint of sadness. The pitch, the tone, the emotion—all merged in a sound wave that he recognized instinctively.
Vivianne.
His mate was pissed, and upset. She needed him.
Vampire guardians ran up to him, and he plowed through them like a bowling ball smashing through ninepins. Every time he was grasped he reacted, twisting, turning, crushing, throwing—it was as though everyone else was moving in slow motion as he darted between, behind and beyond vampires. He made sure each of them suffered a broken neck—some of them may have been Nightwing, and therefore were Vivianne’s colony. They may be just following the wrong prime’s orders—or they may actually want to be doing this. Either way, that wasn’t his judgment call. He just needed to get them out of his way.
He reached the inner door, and glared at it, panting. It was one of those steel doors that had a wheel lock. He grasped a spoke and pushed, gritting his teeth as he put all of his strength into turning the wheel. Anger fueled his strength, along with his need to get to his mate, and ensure her safety. His vision grew dark red, and his pulse thumped in his ears. For a moment nothing happened, and then the steel in his hands started to shift. Metal grated, screeched, and the lock began to turn, getting easier and easier the farther he pushed it around.
There was a loud clang as the lock disengaged, and he pulled, swinging the massive door open. The damn thing would withstand a bomb blast.
“Okay, some might think that’s impressive,” a man said behind him.
Zane whipped around, incisors bared, until he realized it was Dave.
The witch stood there, hands on hips, his leather jacket parted to reveal a black T-shirt. There was a damp, shiny patch on the front of his ribs, and Zane’s nostrils flared.
Blood.
Zane shuddered, sucking in a breath, but that only increased the bloodlust as the scent of the witch’s blood filled his nose, and his teeth ached. The damn fool. Dave had an open wound that was fresh and tempting.
Zane took another deep breath, held it and turned away, his fists clenched as he battled the need to strike—to bite. He focused on his heartbeat, consciously slowing it down.
He ruthlessly pushed back his thirst, quelling the fire of want. The red in his vision slowly dissipated, and his incisors retracted back into his gums. He took a deep, calming breath.
A big hand thudded down on his shoulder. “Well done,” Dave murmured. “Now, that’s impressive. But I’ll take it from here.”
Zane shook his head. Perspiration beaded his forehead, and trickled down his neck and back. He unclenched his fists and looked down at his palms, surprised to see them rock-steady. He could have killed the man, damn it.
“But you didn’t,” Dave murmured, turning his head briefly.
Zane frowned. “Damn it, get out of my head.”
Dave lifted his hand off his shoulder. “Easy, fang-buster. I’m out. But just for the record, you did good.”
Zane watched as the witch preceded him into the facility. He turned around. Twisted bodies lay strewn along the tunnel, but each one of them would recover—in time.
He turned and hurried after Dave. “Was this—was this some kind of test?” he snapped in a low voice.
Dave winked, then held his finger to his lips, and Zane quietened, listening. He could hear howls and roars in the distance, and there was one, louder, angrier, mightier than the others.
Nate.
He and Dave jogged along the corridor, sliding along the walls as they came to corners, and peeking around the bends. A trio of guardians was waiting for them at one such corner, and Zane growled, his fangs extending, fists clenching as he prepared to fight.
Dave muttered words in a language Zane couldn’t understand, then brought his hands together in a loud clap. The three men’s heads cracked against each other, knocking each other senseless. All three guardians slumped to the ground, unconscious. Zane’s eyebrows rose as he turned to Dave.
“You’re not so bad, yourself.”
Dave grinned, and they continued down the hall, gradually picking up speed into a flat-out run. They arrived at a fork, and Zane glanced up one corridor, and then the other. He cocked his head. The howls were louder, and he could hear clanging, like metal on concrete. He couldn’t hear Vivianne, though, and his heart thudded in his chest.
Dave put his hands out and touched the walls, bowing his head as though concentrating on...his feet? Zane couldn’t
figure what the hell the witch was doing, but Dave lifted his head.
“Your lycans are down that one,” he said, pointing to the corridor to the right. “My witch, she’s down—”
Dave grunted as he bounced back against a wall. Zane glanced down the left corridor. A middle-aged woman with dark hair and eyes that looked milky white was walking toward them, muttering something, hand outstretched toward Dave. She had a blue bruise darkening one temple.
Zane reached for Dave, who shook his head. “No, go get your friends.” He turned to the witch advancing toward them. “This one’s mine.”
Zane hesitated, but Dave pushed himself up, using the wall as support, his teeth gritted. The scent of blood was stronger. His wound was bleeding again.
“Dave—” Zane began, concerned for the witch.
Dave ignored him, chanting more of those indistinguishable words. He reached a hand toward the woman who was still advancing toward him. Zane glanced between the witches. Dave was up against an elder, a witch who’d gained power each time she’d passed her trials to become an elder. What chance Dave had against the woman, Zane didn’t—
The woman gasped, clutching at her throat. Her eyes widened, and a thin trail of blood dripped down from her nose and the inner corners of her eyes. She coughed, her fingers curling up into twisted digits, and she fell to her knees, stunned surprise crossing her face fleetingly. Dave kept murmuring as he advanced, and the woman slumped forward, her hands curving inward as she tried to crawl toward him, her face twisted in anger.
Zane realized his mouth was hanging open, and he snapped it shut. Okay. Apparently Dave stood a pretty good chance against the elder.
A howl rent the air, full of anger and harsh warning. Zane bolted down the right corridor.
Vivianne.
* * *
Vivianne bounded around the corner and skidded to a halt when she saw her father with the squirming babe. He was hurrying down the hall, his long dark coat flapping behind him. She raised her head and howled.
Her father whirled, then stopped when he saw the dark wolf behind him. His teeth bared, and he held the baby in front of him. “Stop, or I will kill him.”
Wolf Undaunted Page 23