by LJ Rivers
“Let it go, already. She lived on the same street.” Zale began stacking his cards on top of each other again, building a skewed house of cards, bound to fall at the slightest gust. “Besides, she even looked the same. Same long, dark hair, same build, same power. Or lack thereof.”
“Wrong side of the street,” Estelle interjected. “Wrong woman.”
He shrugged, and the house of cards toppled over, cards flying across the tabletop. Frowning, he leaned forward, scooping the cards back in a heap.
I bit down on my tongue. Why hadn’t I pieced it together? Naunet had looked like me. She was even from Egypt, with similar features and bone structure to mine. But why? How did she know who I was, and why was she there to begin with?
To warn me.
Guilt settled in my gut like a heavy stone. They were dead because of me. Naunet, Edwin, and even Karl. They had tried to protect me, and they gave their lives to do so. And it was all for nothing. Here I was, captured and bruised, acting like a personal juice box for these monsters. I clenched my fist and winced at the jolt of pain, but bit down my yelp. Feeling sorry for myself would get me nowhere, though. And while I acknowledged their sacrifice, it wasn’t my fault. I had to believe that. Regardless of blame, I had to survive this. If not for me, then for them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Surviving was the only way to honor the memories of the dead, and I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Edwin hadn’t spent fifteen years protecting and educating me, only to have me die at the hands of monsters.
Be strong, Cam. This is what Edwin trained you for. Do not fail him now.
Estelle turned her back to me and gathered up the pile of cards, adjusting them in her hands. She shuffled the deck and dealt the cards between herself and her brother.
I looked around the room, wishing I could get my hands on that iron poker. One way or another, I had to get out. While I could pick a lock, it required stealth, and one of my bobby pins. I had the tools. I just had to make sure my captors didn’t catch on. Gritting my teeth, I pretended to scratch my neck. My fingers pinched around one of the pins. Despite my throbbing wrist, I wiggled my body, bending the pin between my fingers. It proved more difficult than I had thought. I carefully attempted to slip the pin into the lock, but struggled to get the right angle.
“So, now what?” I asked, hoping our voices would conceal what I was doing.
“We wait,” Estelle said.
“Wait? For how long?”
“Until Abrax makes contact. It shouldn’t take long. He’s undoubtedly had eyes on you for years, and he’ll know it’s time to come out of hiding and face us.”
These two were a couple of howlin’ lavvy heids, as Edwin would have said. I couldn’t blame him for falling for Estelle. Assuming she wore contacts when they were together, he couldn’t have known what she was. And as hard as it was to admit, she was an attractive woman. Love or not, Edwin had kept my secret even then, and his death would not be in vain. Not as long as I drew breath.
Estelle slammed a card on the table and barked out a laugh. My heart sank when I finally managed to insert the pin, but realized it was a double-lock set of handcuffs. Given enough time, I would have been able to pick it, but my wrist was already begging for mercy. I couldn’t do it. Bowing my head, I concealed a tear, which had escaped the brim of my eye, and wiped my cheek on my forearm. If given the chance, I would try again.
Even if I could get the cuff off, I would have had little hope of escape. The dhampirs were strong, and if I had understood how my power worked correctly, it didn’t change that part. But then, why did their eye colors change, and what had Estelle said? My blood made them human. For a time. Maybe that meant they also lost some of their strength. From what everyone had told me, shapeshifters could still run as animals in my presence, and vampires kept their strength, but no one had said anything about how I affected dhampirs. At the moment, they looked perfectly normal, playing cards and bickering like siblings do.
Thinking back on my first encounter with Zale, it fit. If he hadn’t taken some of my blood then, perhaps he wouldn’t have fled. The gun didn’t scare Estelle, not even when I shot her, but it had scared her brother. The only difference between those encounters was that while Zale had drunk from me, she hadn’t. He hadn’t taken more than a small sip then, but they had both fed greedily on me this time, leaving them momentarily at a disadvantage. They were—in Estelle’s words—more or less human, for the time being. I could only guess how long it would last and how human they were. Either way, the only chance to get out was to act quickly. The longer I stayed in their grasp, and the more they fed on me, the weaker I would get. I could already feel my energy dwindling. I was beat up, bleeding, and had lost an unknown amount of blood. It was paramount to escape before I allowed them to weaken me to a point of no return.
I could do two against one, right? I was still able to run, and I would fight as long as there was fight left in me.
As I was about to start working on the cuff again, the front door opened, and a gust of night air blew into the room. I glimpsed the starlit sky outside before the door swung shut. Pausing my escape, I regarded the new arrival.
“There you are, brother,” Estelle said.
This had to be Jermaine. I cussed silently, sagging back to my former position on the floor. His arrival complicated the situation. Two was bad enough, but at least they still had my blood in their system. Three? I couldn’t fight a dhampir at full capacity on a good day, so escaping now was no longer an option. Maybe if I could lay my hands on the newcomer, I could take his power? Only, what powers did he have that I could take? I had only ever managed to channel Leon’s empathy, and that had been in a safe environment with a willing witch. Could I even do this? If the chance presented itself, I had to try.
“How did it go?” Zale asked.
“Abrax replied to our message.” The man waved a note in his hand. “He’ll give us what we want.”
My breath caught in my throat. My father was here, in Denmark? And he was coming to save me, exposing himself to these creatures. I often imagined what my father was like and had spent hours fantasizing about how it would be to meet him. Did we look alike, have similar interests? Had he missed me? I had so many questions for the man who once gave me life. If he showed up, however, the dhampirs would kill him.
For the first time in my life, I wanted him to stay gone.
The newcomer swaggered closer and crouched in front of me. A faint aroma of cigarettes crawled up my nostrils when he brushed away a few strands of hair that had stuck to my shoulder. I snapped my teeth at him. He bellowed out a laugh and struck me with the flat of his hand.
My ears rang, and I blinked, afraid I would pass out again. My cheek heated, and a metallic taste washed over my tongue. I curled up, spat blood on the floor, then scowled up at him.
“Feisty little shield witch,” he said with amusement in his voice. “The thing is, you’re all bark. I’m the one with the bite.” His fangs punched out to emphasize his meaning.
Estelle swung her leg over the bench to face us. “Jermaine, you simply have to drink her.”
Jermaine steered his eyes to mine, pools of darkness glittering with desire. “Maybe just a sip.”
My stomach revolted at the very thought. Nestling my injured hand to my chest, I scooted away from him. But where could I go?
Be smart, Cam.
I had to wait for the most opportune moment to pick the lock. Provided I could stay conscious.
Firelight danced on his fangs when his tongue slid over his bottom lip. “Which vein shall I choose?” He stroked his index finger up my wrist to my elbow, continuing up to my shoulder. His hand clasped around my nape as his knees fell forward to straddle me, forcing my torso to lift from the floor until I was flush with his body. My pulse quickened as his fingers dug into my hip while he rocked against me. The weight of him was crushing. Squirming, I tried desperately to push him away. He was bigger than his siblings, with bulky muscl
es and a square chin, and would have been hard to fight off even as a human. But this was no human. This was a creature even vampires feared—an abomination. Dark strands of black hair obscured his sinister eyes as he leaned forward, his breath on my skin. With one hand still on my nape, his other trailed the side of my body, lingering on the buttons of my blouse.
“There’s a nice spot here,” he whispered, as one finger traced my clavicle, coming to rest by my cleavage.
I craned my neck in hopes that he would choose the easily accessible vein presented to him. If he was going to feed on me, which he clearly was, I would rather it be there. His ravenous eyes burned with desire before his fangs descended on my neck.
Closing my eyes, I surrendered to his thirst. Pinned as I was, nothing I could do would be enough, and I needed my strength. So, I stayed still, praying it would end sooner rather than later.
But his thirst was never-ending. With every gulp, more blood poured out in a steady stream, my veins pulsating with every suck. I drifted in and out of consciousness as he kept feeding on me, barely aware of his fingernails piercing my skin. This was it. This was how Naunet had died, and this was how I would meet my end. Would I move on like Leon had said we were supposed to? Or would I become a spectral, doomed to wander the land of the living, never belonging or finding rest? Maybe I would get to see my mother again. If not in the afterlife, then in the next after that. Assuming I’d be born again. I hoped so, and I clung to the sliver of faith that this wasn’t the end.
Jermaine’s fangs slid out in an abrupt motion. As the weight of him lifted, I collapsed. My breath came in shallow gasps while I made a futile attempt to cover my wound with my palm. But I couldn’t move. All I could do was lie there and bleed out.
“That’s enough,” Estelle barked. “We can’t bargain with a dead witch.” Someone’s tongue slid over my shoulder, likely licking up blood. Eyes closed, I listened to feet shuffling across the floor.
“Got a little carried away,” Jermaine mumbled. “That was intoxicating.”
The three monsters snickered, and someone slapped their hand on the table.
“Told you it was divine, didn’t I?” Zale cackled.
I forced my eyelids open and stared vacantly at the ceiling. A shadow caught my eye. I glanced at my prison guards, who clinked glasses and prepared for another game of cards. Since they ignored me, I dared another look upward.
What started out as a blurry shadow slowly turned into the outline of a cat. A wildcat. It slunk soundlessly across one of the ceiling beams. The feline stopped, and its green eyes flashed down at me. My heart did a slow cartwheel in my chest.
It was a gorgeous creature. Elegant and poised like her human counterpart, with a silver coat and sable paws. While I had never met her animal, those intelligent eyes betrayed it. It had to be Rosamund. The feline hunched low as she crept along the beam, and my chest swelled with relief, which quickly turned to concern.
She was only one wildcat, facing three psycho dhampirs. Granted, they were most likely human at the moment, but I was in no shape to move. I touched my fingers to the still bleeding bite wound on my neck, showing her the other bite on my wrist. Hopefully, that was enough to get my message across.
The wildcat shook her head slowly, and my shoulders sagged. Maybe I had been wrong about the dhampirs’ humanity. Or maybe she was signaling that it was too late. I couldn’t blame her because I felt death knocking at my door. But I wasn’t about to let the reaper in. I was alive. Barely breathing, but alive. Tears wet my cheeks as, despite myself, exhaustion enveloped me, the excruciating pain so complete it consumed me to a point where I no longer wanted to cry out. My mind told me to keep fighting, but my body just wanted it all to stop. Unable to keep my eyes open, I drifted back to oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leon crouched low in the bushes. He wanted to barge through the door with a vengeance, but getting himself killed wouldn’t help Camryn. The very thought of her kidnappers feeding on her blood made his skin crawl. Dunstan’s source had assured Leon that Camryn would survive the feeding, and that none of the dhampirs would drain her to death. Allowing the torture she must be suffering was the only chance of saving her. Doing nothing went against every grain of Leon’s body. Could he even trust their source? The only reason Leon decided to do so was the belief that their source came from Camryn’s guardian. If her uncle had believed this was the right course of action, then Leon had no other choice but to have faith in the man who raised her. Edwin had spent so much of his life protecting her, and even in death, he had her back.
Regardless, Leon kicked himself for allowing this to happen in the first place. He should have gone with her when she said she needed a minute. He should have suspected something was up. But he hadn’t. They stupidly thought they’d left the threat behind in Berlin, and since it wasn’t uncommon for people to want a moment alone to grieve, he’d thought nothing of it at the time. Neither of them considered that anyone would attack during the memorial. He should have known better.
The forest came alive at night. Crickets started their nocturnal concert, and an owl hooted somewhere in the darkness. Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, and water babbled in a nearby creek. Stars were twinkling above, and it was, all things considered, a lovely summer night. And yet, it wasn’t. Shadows concealed the threats in the darkness, and the sounds combined into a mournful song, as if the woods were singing a warning.
The white wolf skulked in the shadows to his left, and Leon nodded at her, but the obsidian coat of her mate made him impossible to spot in the night. The perfect hunter. While Leon couldn’t see him, he sensed the feral emotions in the air: determination, ferocity, and the primal need to protect and hunt. Leon took comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone.
Since Rosamund was the smallest of their group, and the sneakiest, she went in first to take stock of the cabin. As the minutes dragged by, however, concern swelled in his stomach. What if she’d been captured, too? Would the dhampirs torture her or kill her on sight? Or was Camryn already dead, and Rosamund was thinking of ways to lessen the blow? All kinds of scenarios raced through his thoughts, none of which put his mind at ease.
“I can’t keep shifting.” Rosamund’s voice startled Leon, but he quickly adjusted, keeping his voice to a whisper.
“Took you long enough. I was afraid we’d have to save two people instead of one.”
She crawled closer through the thicket and retrieved the pile of clothes next to him, putting them on as she spoke. “She’s alive.”
A weight lifted off his shoulders, and he let out an audible sigh. He hadn’t known just how much he needed to hear those words until she said them.
“That said,” Rosamund cautioned, “she’s terribly wounded, and those abominations can’t even see that she’s on the brink of death. I want you to be prepared for what you’ll find. They’ve taken an awful lot of blood.” She draped a black hoodie over her head, which made her look ten years younger. Had he ever seen her wear one before?
“There’s an open window to one of the bedrooms at the back, but the front door is the only real entry point. We’ll have to move fast.”
“They all fed on her?”
“By the looks of it, yes. Their eyes were all blue.”
He squared his shoulders and unholstered his gun. “So, they’re practically human. That’s our cue.” He tugged at the string on her hood. “You’re not shifting again?”
“I’ve been shifting too many times today. With no sun, it will take too long to recharge my batteries. Besides, even my animal needs rest, and right now, she needs her beauty sleep. Not to worry, though.” She picked up her shotgun from the grass and attached a sheath around her waist, the ensemble an unusual mismatch for someone who took pride in her wardrobe. With a sly smile, she clawed the air with one hand. “This old cat still has some bite in her.”
“Let’s move.”
She dipped her chin and made a low whistle, one the wolves heard just fine, and the dham
pirs would have heard, had they been at full strength. As it was, Leon only saw her do it, before he crept out of the bushes and ran for the door.
Muffled shouting came from inside as he kicked the door open. It slammed into the wall, and he stepped over the threshold. The obsidian wolf blurred past his vision, lunging at one of the men. Wolfgang must have come through the window. Leon raised his weapon. Before he could pull the trigger, pain lanced up his spine, and he fell to one knee. A woman with ash-blonde hair and a wicked grin circled him, an iron poker in her hand.
“Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?” She held the poker over her head, poised for a deadly swing. A shrill shriek escaped her mouth as Christelle’s white wolf closed her jaw around the dhampir’s arm. She dropped the poker and pounded her fist into the wolf’s stomach. The gorgeous animal whined, slobber dripping to the floor as she struggled to keep her teeth latched on.
Leon raised his gun again, but the wolf was between him and the wretched creature, so he couldn’t get a clear shot. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the back wall.
Anger flared in his veins, and he inhaled sharply. Camryn was lying on the floor, soaked in a pool of blood. Her eyes were closed, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. Scrambling to his feet, Leon threw furniture aside as he began barreling through the room. Before he could reach her, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders, forcing him back on his knees. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been as careless, but the lack of magical guidance blindsided him. Fingernails raked against his clavicles, and he cried out in agony as the dhampir on his back sunk his teeth in Leon’s neck.
Trashing, Leon grasped at the creature’s arms and tried throwing him off, but the beast stuck to him like bees to honey. A gunshot deafened all the sound, and the dhampir’s fangs slid out as he slumped down. Leon spun around and kicked the vile beast.