by Tijan
Tracey and the others knew they could be seen by now and had their weapons drawn. Davy flung her hands out and barked, “No! Don’t move.”
“Who are you?” the Mori asked in her mind. She had beautiful doe eyes, high cheekbones, a heart-shaped jawline that curved to petite pink lips. She didn’t stand in Davy’s mind with the robe. The Mori female was in a white dress and nothing else. No makeup. No shoes. No socks. She was barefoot, and her long black hair swung freely as she gazed around her surroundings. A small line appeared in her forehead. “Where am I?”
“My mind.”
“Your mind?”
This Mori wasn’t the enemy. Davy felt goodness from her. She wasn’t a warrior that would instantly kill. That was why Davy was drawn to her, pulling her into her mind. It was a safe place, for both of them.
Davy asked, taking a step toward the vampiress, “Do you know who I am?”
“You are . . .” She gazed around once more, the corners of her mouth pressing in. “You’re The Immortal thread-holder. No one else would have the power to pull one, such as myself, into your mind. I’m a priestess for my people. My own powers have not been challenged by more than a handful.”
She was a big deal. Davy nodded. She got it. “What’s your name?”
“Yaeyn.” The vampiress added, “Jiyama spoke about you. She said your magic was addicting. She yearned to touch it again.”
“Jiyama helped us. My friends and I could escape because of her. I’d like to thank her someday.”
“She’s missing.”
Davy frowned. “What?”
“She’s gone. No one can sense her essence anywhere. That’s why I’m out here. I had hoped . . . I thought perhaps she went in search for you, but . . .” Yaeyn turned around and regarded the others. “I am not seeing her with you.”
The one Mori that Davy hoped could help them was gone. She—there was nothing she could do about that. “Lucan loved her.”
Yaeyn nodded. “She loved him as well. It is troubling. No one can find where my sister went, even Lucan himself. He was the last to have spoken to her.”
A dark cloud of suspicion lined the bottom of her stomach. Davy wondered, but that didn’t make sense. Lucan loved her. She witnessed their exchange herself. If he did something . . . then, that would be on him. It would be another reason to make him suffer.
Yaeyn said, “I hear rumbling.” She focused on Davy. “That is you. That’s your anger.” She inclined her head, a soft question coming from her, “You don’t think . . . Lucan was to wed my sister. Why would he harm her?”
“I don’t know, but the Lucan you know isn’t the Lucan I know.” The rumbling in Davy grew, shaking, sending Yaeyn from side to side. She held her hands out, trying to steady herself, but the beautiful landscape that Davy had sculpted for the Mori turned to the inside of a volcano. The heat was rising, more and more, and Davy was ready to explode.
“Kill her,” The Immortal hissed.
Yaeyn’s head whipped around. “Who was that?”
Davy was standing in front of the Mori, but another presence stepped beside her. She knew, before looking, that it was The Immortal. It was herself.
Yaeyn’s eyes widened, and she took a step backwards. “They unhinged the thread. You are no longer merged.”
“Kill her,” The Immortal said again, ignoring the Mori. “Take her power for yours. We can use it instead of using the power you’re restoring for Jacith. Take her power, Davy.”
“No.” Davy shook her head, but her voice was quiet.
Yaeyn started looking around. “Release me, Thread-Holder. Release me now.”
It was too late, though. The Mori sensed what Davy already knew, it was why she released The Immortal to stand next to her. Her power was still locked up, but Davy knew what she would do. She needed the extra encouragement or she didn’t think she could go through with it.
She was going to kill the Mori.
They were all attached. It was why they called each other sister and brother. If she took this Mori’s essence, it was a gateway into their community. She would be connected to all of them and she could yield that connection as she pleased. She could slip into their minds. She could tell them what to think, feel, do, and so much more.
Yaeyn whispered, shaking her head, “Don’t do this, Davy of the Thread-Holder. Jiyama said you had good in you. She longed to assist you. She wanted to be your friend.”
Davy snorted. “She loved Lucan. Her judgment’s off.”
“I can feel it in you, too.” Yaeyn’s eyes were piercing, pleading with her. “It’s why I didn’t attack or flee. My reflexes are faster than yours are. I feel what she felt. You are good. You are pure. Do not listen to the evil in you.” She gazed with scorn at The Immortal. “This one is power hungry. She wants to take control over you, and she’ll swallow your soul whole to do that. She won’t hesitate. Don’t let the darkness win.”
But as the Mori was talking, The Immortal reached over. She clasped her hand onto Davy’s, who turned her palm around. They were now palm to palm, and their fingers intertwined. They were the most connected in a long time, before Davy merged with her back at Roane’s restaurant.
“This is good. This is the right thing to do.” The Immortal spoke quietly to her, clasping her hand tight.
“No, Davy.” Yaeyn thrust a hand out, as if to grab ahold of Davy.
Davy closed her eyes and hung her head.
“Block her out. Don’t listen to her. You need her essence. It will help you against the Mori and Jacith. You’ll be able to find Kates.”
“I . . .” Davy still hesitated.
“The Mori captured you. They assisted Lucan with taking the others and torturing you. You can use her essence and her power. When we’re done, you can let her essence go. It can rest with her family.” The Immortal squeezed her hands. “We have to, Davy. It’s no longer you and me. It’s us. We have to do this.” She paused a beat, then added, “This will save Lucas, too.”
The last sentence was enough. Davy was wavering, but her mind was made up. She shut her emotions off and started to chant.
She concentrated on the words. Magic hadn’t been an effort for her before. The effort had been in trying to control her power, but since Lucan’s witches, it was like she was learning everything new. And this spell, drawing the Mori’s essence, was beyond anything she had done knowingly.
“Davy!”
The Immortal moved so she was directly in front of Davy. Her back was to the Mori, and she tucked her head next to Davy’s. She took Davy’s other hand, and she began to chant with her. They both spoke at the same time, in the same breath, with the same focus and attention.
“Davy,” Yaeyn yelled once again. “I know there is good in you. Please don’t do this. I’m one of my people’s leaders. They will be devastated by my death—”
Enough!” The Immortal slammed a hand behind her, and in a moment, she snapped Yaeyn’s neck. Her hand returned to Davy’s, and she squeezed it hard. “Hurry. We can still take her essence. It hasn’t depleted to the earth yet.”
They worked together, as one mind, one mouth, and when it was done, a peace settled over Davy. She opened her eyes, but she was back in her own body once again. She wasn’t in her mind and she looked down.
The Mori was at her feet. Her eyes were wide open with death in them, and her mouth was open, like she had been gasping for breath.
“I can feel them.” Davy didn’t turn to the others. She said, “I can feel all of them. I know where they are.”
“Davy . . .” Gavin gestured to the Mori. “What about her?”
Davy didn’t look. She only said, “She would’ve killed us. I was protecting us.” And with that, she stepped over the body.
ROANE
As soon as Roane walked into the encampment, the Christane wolves knew. He still wore Benshire blood on him, and it wasn’t long after that before Christian issued the order. They were marching on their enemy.
“You’ll lose.”
Christian was leaving his tent, his sword ready. Pippa was next to him, and as Roane said those words, she stood next to her brother. Both regarded him with resolved faces. They were going to war. The order had been issued. They were ready.
Christian snapped, “You brought us here. This is why we’re here.”
“They’re being helped by Jacith—”
“And we’re supposed to have The Immortal on our side,” Christian’s voice bellowed. “Where is she?”
“Brother,” Pippa said. Her head turned up, regarding him.
He ignored her, glaring at Roane. “You’re the leader, but you come in here wearing our enemy’s blood.” He gestured around them. “Look at my men. If you wanted a battle cry, you got one. The smell worked them into a frenzy. They must have blood of their own now. They have to spill their enemy’s blood for themselves.”
“We have to wait.” But as Roane said it, he knew they wouldn’t.
He smelled the wolves’ blood thirst. It was intoxicating, even to himself. It was bringing the Hunter in him alive again, the Hunter that he thought was long gone. Even now, as Christian started to speak, Roane wasn’t paying attention. The Hunter mark on him started to burn. It was awakening and he closed his eyes. He needed to allow it to return. He had been stripped of his Hunter privilege, but for a reason unknown to him, it was being returned to him. He was no longer only powerful because of Davy’s blood, but because of his ancestry.
“. . . We have no choice,” Christian was saying.
Pippa added, “We have to go.”
Roane didn’t look at her. He hadn’t paid attention to the wolf that was Davy’s friend. It hurt too much, remembering the times when Davy fought for this one, proclaimed she was friend and not foe. That had been when Davy was safe, not like now. She’d been gone for so long . . .
Wren stepped next to him. “The witch is gone, but we’ll fight with you.” She glanced to Roane, then back to Christian. “It’s why we all came here.”
“It’s not time.” Roane shook his head, but he knew it was pointless. They were going. They had waited too long.
“It’s time, Lucas Roane, Hunter of the Hunters’ bloodline.” Christian spoke to him, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. His gaze was directed beyond Roane’s shoulder and he turned to see all of the wolves there. They were waiting. Then, one by one, they began to change into their wolf form. When they were all done, they turned as one and formed a line. Two by two, they began to leave. Roane stepped back with Bastion and Wren. As they watched, Christian and Pippa transformed as well and followed their bloodline.
They were going to war.
Wren said, when they left, “It’s not enough. They’ll all die.”
Roane asked Bastion, “You sent your man?”
Bastion nodded. “I did.”
“Would he have had time?”
“I don’t know. I . . .” Bastion took a breath, hesitation on his face, but it cleared. He was the fastest of Roane’s men. “I could go, if you want me to.”
“What?” Wren’s head whipped around. “You are not thinking what I think you’re thinking. You are not leaving . . . are you?”
“I can go. He would be there by now, but coming back—”
They needed help. Roane realized that as soon as he saw how many Benshire wolves and Romah vampires there were. He had his own men, and he sensed them now. They heard the exchange. They knew the wolves were heading out, but they were waiting for their own leader. Roane didn’t want to send his men to fight. They would die. There were too many Romah vampires. They were older, and they had magic. Davy was their ace in the sleeve, but they couldn’t get to her.
“Roane.”
He glanced down to the ground. Wren spoke his name, standing beside him, and he knew why. He felt his men. They had come, standing not far, and he knew why they were there. It was the same reason they came on this journey with him. It was time to fight. It was that simple. The wolves, who had come to be their ally, were going. They would go to their deaths. They didn’t have Davy, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.
It was time.
He turned around. Wren turned with him. Bastion was on his other side. It was too late. If he sent Bastion, he wouldn’t get back in time. No matter what, the war was here and it had already started.
He spoke quietly, but every vampire heard him as he said, “We came to fight.”
The excitement and adrenaline filled the air. Each vampire was on high alert.
Wren said, “We’re ready.”
Roane nodded. “Then we fight.”
He turned and led his men to join the Christane wolves. So be it who fell and who lived at the end.
DAVY
She could feel the Mori. She knew exactly where they were, even the little babies in the mothers’ wombs, and she walked toward them. Her feet glided soundlessly over the forest as she kept moving forward. Davy walked and walked. She wasn’t aware of the time, the weather, even where she was. She could’ve been walking on a cliff’s edge and she would’ve kept going.
Everything was tuned out, except for the Mori.
The Mori meant more magic, more power. And as she kept going, she moved with a serene and ethereal quality to her. Gavin, Gregory, and Tracey followed behind. They were no longer guarding her. They were merely trailing now. It was as if they didn’t exist, and more than once the three vampires shared a worried look. This was a Davy that they didn’t know, and while the humans didn’t know the old carefree Davy, they reacted on a primal level to this new Davy as well. They were silent and had grown pale. Their bodies started to tremble from the exertion they were being put through. Showers erupted in the sky and drenched their group. The two humans shivered. They accepted blankets that the vampires offered, but when Cal’s teeth’s chattering overpowered the sound of his own heartbeat, Gavin knew they had to stop.
“Davy.” He reached for her. “We have to stop.”
A part of him felt she wouldn’t, but when she did, he was surprised. Some hope sparked in him. His senses were telling him she wasn’t human anymore, had slowly been transitioning in that direction, but since killing the Mori, he could see The Immortal’s power over her. As he stared at her, he could only see small traces of the old Davy.
Her chocolate almond eyes, that usually danced and laughed, were dead. There was no life in them anymore. Her cheeks, that would pink and plump up whenever she would grin at something Lucas said or if she was caught staring at Gavin’s best friend, they barely moved. The color was gone. A white, almost tranquil, glimmer had formed over her skin.
“Why?”
She asked that one word, but instead of the impatience or even understanding that the old Davy would have, she sounded careless. It was like she was curious, as if the idea of exhaustion was a new concept to her.
He gritted his teeth and tried to quell his anger.
Davy’s eyes sharpened. Her head tilted to the side and the age-old hierarchy was switched. He was no longer the predator that every vampire was to a human. He was her prey. Gavin knew it, and Davy knew it. A faint grin teased at the corner of her mouth, but it only remained a faint glimmer. Her eyes remained cold and soulless.
He shifted to the back of his heel. “The humans need to rest.”
Davy stepped aside so she could see Cal and Spencer. As her dead gaze left him, Gavin could breathe. He’d been under her attention, which was a spell in itself now. He had to do something. This couldn’t continue. She would be gone and the allegiance he owed his best friend, to watch over his lover wouldn’t be upheld. He would be letting Lucas down. He couldn’t do that. As Davy continued to study the humans, Gavin cast a quick look at Tracey and Gregory. He saw similar unsettled looks in their faces.
“You are too tired?” Davy asked Cal and Spencer.
Neither answered. They glanced behind them, tucking their hands against their sides. Their shoulders hunched down, like they were trying to make themselves seem smaller. They wanted to run
from her.
Davy’s eyes narrowed. “You are not too tired? Why are you not answering me?”
Gavin cleared his throat. His hand went to his sword, but he only gripped the handle. He didn’t pull it out. “Davy, this is enough.”