THE IMMORTAL: A Novel of the Breedline series

by Shana Congrove

  “Do you live here?”

  “Yes,” Tessa replied. “I guess you could say I oversee everything. Each and every one of us here is like a big family.” She lightly squeezed Tara’s shoulder and then rose to her feet. “Tara, you really shouldn’t be out of bed. Please, come with me. I’ll help you back to your room.”

  She became at ease with Tessa’s soothing words. Tara suddenly realized she was no longer in danger. Before she got to her feet, she heard a light meow. A black cat slunk out from the shadows to rub affectionately against Tara’s arm.

  “Don’t worry,” Tessa said. “He’s very friendly. His name is Buddy.”

  “Kitty,” Jax murmured, directing his finger at the cat.

  Tara smiled and reached out to the furry feline. It arched its back as she smoothed her hand over his sleek, soft fur.

  “Looks like you’ve got a new friend.” Tessa laughed a little. “Although my husband brought him home, Buddy kind of adopted us.”

  “He’s beautiful,” Tara said. “He reminds me of a stray cat that used to hang around my foster parents’ old barn when I was a little girl. I brought him milk every morning before I left for school. I named him Midnight. I think that cat was the only real friend I ever had as a child.” Her eyes stared in the distance as though her mind was miles away.

  “What happened to him?” Tessa hesitantly asked, bringing Tara back to focus.

  “I don’t know.” Tara shrugged. “When I went to feed him one morning, he never came. It took me a whole month before I finally realized he wasn’t coming back.”

  Tessa looked at her sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Tara. That must have been painful as a child.”

  “Oh, that was a long time ago,” Tara said as she struggled to stand.

  Tessa quickly put Jax down, reached for Tara’s IV pole, and stood it upright. “Here, let me help you,” she said, offering her hand to Tara.

  As Tara took ahold of Tessa’s hand, she slowly got to her feet and said, “Thank you, Tessa.” She reached for the intravenous pole to help steady herself. “And please, call me Tara.”

  “You’re welcome, Tara. Now, let’s get you back to bed,” Tessa said as she picked up Jax. “I’ll make sure you have guards posted outside your room.”

  “Do you know when Lawrence will return?” Tara bluntly asked.

  “Uh, well...” Tessa stumbled with her words, caught off guard by Tara’s question. She didn’t want to share too much information with Tara since the Covenant hadn’t decided what all they were going to tell her just yet. “I’m not exactly sure. I know he went with my husband and some of the other men to help Detective Sanchez with a case earlier.”

  Tara’s brows furrowed. “Does it have anything to with the thing that killed my boyfriend?”

  “No, Tara. It has nothing to do with the creature that is responsible for your boyfriend’s death. But I promise we are doing everything we can to give Brandon and the others it has killed some justice,” Tessa simply said. “And I know you’re confused and you have a lot of questions. As soon as Lawrence and the others return, we will do our best to explain everything we can. Right now, my main concern is keeping you and my family safe.”

  Tara nodded and let out a deep breath. “Thank you, Tessa.”

  Hidden in the dark shadows, he watched in silent fury as Tara and the other woman with the child in her arms exited the room. His body craved the taste of human blood, and his patience was running thin. The two women and the child were anything but human. Left with no choice, he would have to search for another.

  Before his ghostly apparition completely vanished, he hesitated when a pair of glowing green eyes peered in his direction.

  It cannot be, he thought as the mysterious, green-eyed stalker moved closer. Then, from out of the shadows, a black cat appeared, but he knew it was no ordinary house cat.

  The cat then arched his back and hissed at the unwelcome visitor. Out of nowhere, magic flared in a surge of power, forcing the feline to shift into its human form. A blinding light suddenly burst from the small animal, and when it faded, a man took its place. His glowing eyes were slit-pupiled, and a pair of black wings unsheathed from his back.

  The ghostly creature’s chest lifted and fell on a deep breath. “Raphael—”

  The black-winged angel flashed a wicked smile, revealing two sharp teeth. He stepped forward with a warning. “Leave this place, evil creature. You are not welcome here.”

  “You hold no power over me,” he went on, ignoring the angel’s warning.

  Raphael’s nostrils flared in anger. “Not only do I possess the power of healing,” he said, extending his hand. “I have the power to bring forth pain.”

  Instantly, the Angel of healing released an invisible barrier of magnetic energy from the palm of his hand. The weight of the blow sent the bloodthirsty phantom flying several feet away. Winded and in terrible pain, he recoiled, lurching back as white-hot agony pierced his chest like a burning blade.

  Impossible, he thought as pain sliced through him. The place on his chest where the angel had struck him burned as if he’d been hit by lightning. Soon after, a rush of weakness coursed through him that he had never felt before.

  As the evil creature’s body began to dematerialize, he tossed his head back and howled in silent agony.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After Jimmy Fratianno caused a ruckus at the police station, Tim Ross had Drakon form a team to go hunt him down. The tracking device implanted inside Jimmy gave them his exact location. By the looks of things and the family’s criminal history, it wasn’t going to be easy getting into his Uncle Vincent Scarpelli’s place without a confrontation.

  As Drakon, Lawrence, and Roman worked their way to their destination, Jem and Jace hung back, waiting for their signal to move forward with the plan. Once they reached the rendezvous point—an unguarded passage that led to the back of Scarpelli’s estate—they would give them a thumb’s up, using a two-way radio. It wouldn’t take but a few seconds to meet the others, considering Jem had the ability to use a portal to get them where they needed to be.

  A half-hour later, the others finally reached a large tract of land covered with trees and underbrush. Drakon stopped to check his map. He pointed out to the others an area that ran alongside a creek. “Once we get around to the north side of that creek, we’ll be within range of Scarpelli’s estate.”

  Roman looked to where Drakon had directed them and said, “You want me to radio Jem and Jace?”

  Drakon nodded. “Tell them to get to the place we agreed to meet in fifteen minutes. From here, it shouldn’t take us much longer.”

  “Don’t you think it would have been quicker if we just had Jem take us all there using a portal?” Roman queried.

  “Yeah, it would have been quicker,” Drakon replied. “But considering Scarpelli’s manpower, it’s better if we split up. We could run into trouble. Plus, I’m not particularly fond of portals. Have you ever traveled through one?”

  “No, I can’t say I have. Oh, wait a minute. I did when Jem took us through a portal after we battled it out with the Fury.” Roman shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because, the last time, it threw my equilibrium completely off,” Drakon told him. “I felt like I was on a bender from hell for two days.”

  Roman smirked and then radioed Jem and Jace.

  As they waited on Roman, Lawrence stared out over the woodland and said, “Keep your eyes peeled, guys. At this close range, we could run into some of Scarpelli’s men. He’s well known for taking extreme measures when it comes to his security.”

  A mile out, Drakon slowed, getting his water bottle out of his pack and swigging half of the contents down in one big gulp. As he paused to put the bottle back, he heard a rustling noise coming from behind. Without hesitation, he turned with his pistol raised, but it was too late.

  At least a half a dozen men dressed in camouflage had their guns on Drakon, Lawrence, and Roman as if daring them to make a move. Their expr
essions came across as harsh as they seemed to weigh the opposition. And they looked way too damn trigger-happy.

  One of the men barked an order. “Drop your weapons now!”

  As Drakon lowered his gun, he hoped to hell that Jem and Jace weren’t stuck in the same predicament. This could all go to shit at a moment’s notice, and he damn sure didn’t want to have to shift into his rogue wolf in front of all these humans.

  A stalky man stepped forward that Roman instantly recognized. He had a cigar tucked between his lips. “This is how it’s going to play out.” He blew out an agitated puff of smoke and then threw the still glowing stogie to the ground. “You’re going to do exactly what I say. Anyone tries anything stupid...” He paused and pointed his gun at Drakon. “...I’ll put a silver bullet through his head.” Then he shifted his weapon in Lawrence’s direction, aiming it at his forehead. “Yes, I know what you all are. Isn’t that right, Mr. Roman Kincaid?”

  Roman straightened, his face going tight, his nostrils flaring. Anger boiled up in his throat until the bitter taste of acid saturated his tongue. For a moment, he stood glaring at a man he believed to be dead and buried years ago. At first glance, it was as though a ghost from the past had come back to haunt him. But it wasn’t a ghost he was looking at. It was Ethan Renshaw. The shady bastard had his fingers into damn near everything: dirty politics, illegal drugs, gun running, and sex trafficking. There isn’t much he hasn’t done, and most of the shit would turn the stomach of a serial killer. He did all of Vincent Scarpelli’s and his cousin’s, Gino Beneditti, dirty work.

  Ten years ago, the military contracted Roman to hunt down the POS. He’d never forget the blistering Sahara Desert. Along with four of his team members, they spent several agonizing days tracking Renshaw through Northern Africa, until finally they caught up with him and his pack of bodyguards. Their mission was to bring him in alive, but under grave circumstances, they were forced to do otherwise. During a sandstorm, Roman and his men took Renshaw’s guards by surprise. Inside a tent that looked like King Tut’s, they found the dirty bastard raping a young civilian girl that he kidnapped two days prior. His dead corpse was the last of Ethan Renshaw that Roman set eyes on. Now, he was staring into the bastard’s cold, evil eyes once again. He could have sworn Renshaw was dead because he had been the one that pulled the trigger that supposedly ended his life. Considering the current situation, it appeared that the asshole had nine lives.

  Renshaw pushed forward until he was just inches from Roman’s face and raised a speculative eyebrow. “I bet you never expected to see me alive, seeing that you killed me and all,” he said mockingly. “How does it feel to be at my mercy, Kincaid?”

  Drakon’s eyes widened in surprise and then he looked at Roman as if gauging his reaction to Renshaw’s statement.

  Lawrence stiffened beside him, but he didn’t react.

  “Fuck off,” Roman gritted out.

  Renshaw laughed. “The feeling is entirely mutual.” Then he nodded at his men and said, “Cuff ’em. And if they give you any trouble...” He pointed at Drakon. “...shoot that one in the head.”

  Roman glared in hatred and turned to meet his comrades in arms. Lawrence stood there looking like you could break a rock on his face. Drakon looked... pissed, for lack of a better word, his hands wound into tight fists and his lips drawn in a straight line.

  Renshaw’s cell went off just as his men were about to secure Roman, Lawrence, and Drakon in handcuffs. As he pulled it from the inside of his jacket and answered, his entire body tensed and his expression became dark and hostile. Renshaw’s hand curled so tightly around the phone that his knuckles whitened. To Roman’s surprise, he moved closer and extended the phone in his direction.

  “It’s Vincent Scarpelli,” he grumbled between gritted teeth. “He wants to speak to you.”

  Roman took the phone from Renshaw’s hand and barked, “Kincaid speaking.”

  Vincent Scarpelli was short and to the point. “I have something you want, and you have something I want. If you want your men to stay alive, give me the location of Mr. Tim Ross. He’s the sorry bastard that put away my nephew. And he’s the only one that can safely remove the explosive tracking device that’s planted in him.”

  Roman’s lips curled into a snarl. “You can go fuck yourself.”

  Scarpelli smirked into the phone. “Have it your way, Kincaid.”

  In the brief silence that followed, a gun going off in the background was all Roman heard, and then Jace screaming his twin brother’s name.

  Roman’s face fell, and he sucked in a wavering breath. “You son of a bitch!” he roared into the receiver.

  “Do I have your attention now?” Scarpelli asked in a smug tone.

  Despite the fact that a silver bullet wasn’t lethal to Jem or Jace, it galled Roman to the deepest pit of his core that Scarpelli thought to have murdered one of his friends. He lifted his gaze and sought out Drakon, who stood as still as a statue, wondering what in the hell was going on. Lawrence had the same look of bewilderment stamped all over his face.

  Then, as if gathering himself, Roman straightened. His eyes went flat and no hint of emotion reflected in the dark color. “I want to talk to you face to face... man to man,” he told Scarpelli, stalling the bastard. Roman knew it was just a matter of time before Jace’s beast reared its ugly head. “Give me that,” he continued, “and I’ll tell you what you want.”

  “I will agree, but if you screw with me, Mr. Kincaid,” Scarpelli threatened, “I’ll order the rest of your men to be put down like the dogs they are. Do I make myself clear?”

  Roman nodded against the phone. “Yeah, we’re clear alright.” His voice was tight with anger. He lifted his gaze and focused them on Renshaw.

  Before Roman could hand the phone back to him, Renshaw jerked it away and put it to his ear. “What the hell was that all about?” he all but roared at Scarpelli.

  Not long after, all the color leeched out of Renshaw’s face. You could hear Vincent Scarpelli’s voice thundering over the phone.

  “Yes, sir,” Renshaw painfully choked out. As he ended the call, he looked at Roman with pure distaste and said, “When Scarpelli is done with you, I’ve got a score to settle.”

  Roman’s lips curled into a sneer, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at Renshaw, his eyes seething with rage. He’d like nothing more than to shift into his Adalwolf and rip the bastard’s throat out.

  After Renshaw’s men forced Roman, Lawrence, and Drakon in the back of a dark SUV at gunpoint, they finally rolled up to the gates that led to Vincent Scarpelli’s massive estate.

  When Renshaw spoke into the security camera, he became curious as to why there was no immediate reply. As minutes passed, his curiosity turned to hostility.

  “What the hell is going on?” Renshaw shouted. “Will someone open this damn gate?”

  Out of nowhere, something crashed into the windshield with a loud bang.

  Renshaw flinched. “What the f—”

  Lying on top of the vehicle’s hood was a human head. Its glassy stare met Renshaw’s wide eyes. It was Vincent Scarpelli. At least what was left of the guy.

  “H-holy shit,” Renshaw’s guard that was sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV said. He made the sign of the cross with his hand. His entire body trembled as he pointed toward the windshield. “Is that Mr. Scarpelli?”

  Just as Renshaw opened his mouth to make a reply, a bone-chilling roar cut him off. When he looked away from the severed head, he caught sight of an enormous creature climbing over the gate. Covered in white shaggy fur, it towered at least seven feet tall or so, with teeth the size of daggers and a slashing pair of front claws.

  “Shit!” Renshaw cursed under his breath. Without further delay, he quickly reached to the door panel. After he rolled up his window, he hit the button to lock the doors.

  “Will someone tell me what the hell that is?” the guard sitting next to Renshaw said as he fumbled with the door, checking the lock.

&n
bsp; “It’s Jace,” Drakon muttered from the back. “When he’s pissed off.”

  The guard felt his heart pounding in his chest. “Can that thing get in here?”

  “If he’s hungry enough,” Drakon replied with a clear smirk in his voice.

  When the Beast cleared the gate and charged at the SUV, running on two legs, the guard checked the door one more time. The rest of Renshaw’s men were gone. The sounds of tires squealing pissed him off. Damn traitors! Renshaw thought, watching his own men desert him.

  The Beast came up to Renshaw’s window and pressed his massive face so close his hot breath fogged the glass as he exhaled. Renshaw stiffened in his seat, taken aback by the unholy creature before him. Yellow glowing eyes glared out from the creature’s wolfish face, and dark blood dripped from its monstrous jaws, staining its milky fur.

  With his eyes locked onto the white beast, Renshaw reached for his weapon.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Drakon warned him. “Silver bullets are useless.”

  Shit! “Are you saying that thing is indestructible?” Renshaw asked, trying to keep his voice low.

  Drakon cocked a brow. “Yep. I’d say all of you are pretty much fucked.”

  Renshaw ignored Drakon’s warning and gripped his pistol. When he turned to the door, the Beast slammed his clawed hand through the window. The immense force caused the entire SUV to bounce up off its wheels. The gun slipped from Renshaw’s grasp as he flew across the cab, knocking the guard into the passenger’s side window. Glass shattered against his skull, rendering him unconscious.

  Before Renshaw could react, the Beast tore the door off its hinges and sunk his claws deep into his back. Renshaw howled in agony. The white beast jerked him from the SUV and tossed him like a rag doll. He crashed into the side of an abandoned vehicle close by, denting the metal panel. When he hit the ground headfirst, pain exploded inside his skull, causing his vision to blur.