“Nah, I’m just glad you know. Makes things easier.”
“How did it happen?”
“I was attacked after a skirmish in Afghanistan. Most of my unit was killed, and this creature came to prey on those not quite dead.”
My brother shakes his head in commiseration. “And that’s how it got you, eh?”
“Yeah, but I’m lucky. Not only did it share it’s blood and save me, it was within its rights to make me subservient in its seethe. Instead, it left me on my own to die or live.”
“That sucks.” Seeming to hear what he said after it came out, he smiles. “Literally, eh?”
“Yeah. You get used to it. I’m in a better place now, and it looks like the Fates have conspired to bring the Monson boys back together again.”
“How is Eric doing? Hopefully, I’ll get to meet him soon.”
“He’s resilient, like always. Never got over Mom up and leaving with you, but like me, he put it behind him after a while.” Asa smiles, a hint of devilment in his eyes. “Did anyone tell you he gets furry at the full moon?”
“Get out!” Justin says with a trace of laughter in his voice. “He’s a werewolf? How the hell did that happen?”
“Not just him, Pat Larson, too.”
Justin grabs his mug, a grin spreading across his face. “Really? Now this is a story I can’t wait to hear.”
Just then, my phone vibrates, indicating a text has come in. It’s from Diego at the hangar: Lost contact with plane. Awaiting news from Fairbanks.
I slip into our apartment and immediately call. This can’t be good.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ERIC
When I come to, pain lancing through my awareness, I’m still strapped in my chair. Half of the front of the plane is missing, and I have no idea where Pat and Drew are. My seat lies on its own island of broken plane, no roof or sides around me.
I look over my limbs, checking for injury, and find a jagged piece of metal sticking out of my thigh. As injuries go, it could have been a lot worse. I wonder if I was the one who screamed during the crash.
I fumble for the seat belt catch and unlock it, feeling the painful pull of skin around the leg wound as my weight shifts.
“Pat?” I call. “Are you okay?”
I look behind me, expecting to see the seat he was in, only to find the back half of the plane is missing, too. Shit. It’s going to be a bitch getting all those boxes loaded again.
Jesus, listen to me. It’s not like we can load them back up and be on our merry way. The plane is literally in pieces. I must be experiencing shock.
“Pat!” I yell louder. Where is that son of a bitch? Warmth from the unrelenting sun of an Alaskan summer beats down on me as I struggle to stand on one leg. I’ll have to go find him. I squint while looking around, another thought occurring to me. Where the hell is Drew? He can’t tolerate exposure to the sun for long.
I stagger to my feet and gingerly step over the wreckage around me. The bench seat Pat was strapped to isn’t far away. I reach it and my spirits plummet. He’s not buckled to it, like I was.
My heart begins to pound as I scan the wreckage for signs of him. It looks like the plane twisted in half on the roll, scattering part of the front and rear in opposite directions. The wings being torn off probably helped in halving the aircraft, too. Come on, come on… where is that bastard…
There! Against the tree line, there’s something that could be a body.
It takes me longer than I’d like to hobble to the huddled form, but soon I’m hunched over my friend’s unconscious face calling his name. Getting no response, I examine him quickly. There aren’t any obvious wounds, so hopefully he’s got nothing going on internally. “Pat,” I try again, softer this time, reaching a hand to his shoulder to gently shake him. “Come on, man. I need you to wake up. We’ve got a vampire to find.”
Pat moans, the low sound releasing a tightness in my chest. Thank God, he’s still alive. Supernatural healing doesn’t help if you die instantly from a sudden vicious attack. Like a stake to the heart or a severed head. Some things are instant deal breakers, no matter your persuasion.
“What happened?” Pat whispers, his voice a dry croak.
“The engine died and Drew had to crash land the plane.”
Pat’s eyes flutter open and he takes in our surroundings. “Well, it looks like he did a bang up job on the ‘crash’ part.”
A faint voice sounds from off to my right, the direction where the remains of the front of the plane lie. “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.”
“Drew?” I call. “You all right?”
Sounds of grating metal and wrenching steel reaches us. “No. I appear to be stuck. Can you help me?”
“Yeah, give me a minute to get there.” I look down at Pat, who’s checking his limbs and torso carefully for wounds. “Coming with me?”
He tests standing, making it up after two tries. “I think so. No broken bones. How about you?”
I motion down to the metal in my leg. “Looks worse than it is. I think the bleeding has stopped.”
“That’ll change if you try and remove the steel.”
“Yeah, I know. Figured I’d leave it in place for now.”
“Good choice. First aid 101. Let’s go see how the bloodsucker is doing.”
“I can still hear fine,” Drew says, a touch of humor lacing his strained voice.
Pat and I work our way slowly through the wreckage to find him. The vampire lies pinned under part of the front of the plane. His sun-suit, for lack of a proper name, is ripped in several places, and the sun beats down on him, frying the exposed skin.
I lunge forward, hampered by my leg wound, but eager to get to him and cover his flesh before the burning gets worse.
“Thought I smelled roasting pork,” Pat says.
“Not funny, prick,” I bite out, hurrying as best I can, gritting my teeth through the pain. “He’s our friend, or do I need to remind you?”
Pat strides past me, making his way to Drew faster than I can. “Relax, boner. Just trying to add some levity to this shitty situation.” He pulls off his shirt and tosses it over the largest area of the vampire’s exposed, reddened skin. “Christ, that looks bad. How does it feel?”
Drew’s facial covering is torn, too, and what little flesh I see is blistered, and red. “Let’s just say it doesn’t tickle.”
Pat and I work together, as best we can, to lift or drag away the debris covering the vampire. Each piece we remove uncovers more exposed skin to the unrelenting sun overhead.
“He’s going to need something to cover him up,” I say. “Do you have any ideas?”
Pat tilts his head and stares at Drew. “We could bury him.”
“Seriously?” I resist thumping him in the back of the head, but only because he’s out of reach. “And what, leave him here ’til winter?”
“Well, how else does a vampire survive in the summer during the day? I think I saw it in a movie once. The vamp was being chased and he had to hide under dirt, leaves, and pine needles until dark.”
“Uhh…” I stammer.
“Dude, it worked in the movie.”
Drew starts laughing, but it’s a dry mirthless kind of sound. Could shit get any worse? Before I have a chance to dwell on exactly how it could, Pat leans down and hoists an arm under our friend. We work together to drag the bleeding, scorched vampire under the shade of the pine trees near the edge of the stream bed. The injured vamp hisses in pain, but otherwise doesn’t protest.
“I think both my legs are broken,” he reports when we ease him down to the ground.
“Allow me to point out the obvious,” Pat says. “That’s gonna hinder us greatly in attempting to walk back to safety. How about we call for help?”
“Good idea, except the control panel held the radio,” Drew replies.
“Yeah? So? Should I go look for it?”
“That was the burning hunk of twisted scrap you pulled me out from under
. And besides, we’re too far past Fairbanks’ reach, and not close enough to the inn’s. ”
“What about the satellite phone?” I ask. “They’re in every plane on the resort. That’s got to work.”
Pat spends a few minutes searching for it, only to discover its crushed case and broken contents. “Shit. We’re screwed.”
Drew waves him back to the shade. “No, we’re not, and don’t panic, Pat. Once we miss arrival time, flight service from Fairbanks will call the inn and they’ll start a search.”
“Oh yeah, won’t that just be great,” my friend replies. “They’ll bundle up our fried vampire and whisk him away to a hospital for proper care.” He motions to the metal in my leg. “And how the hell are we going to explain your speedy healing once they get that out? We’re so screwed. Vivian is going to be pissed.”
Despite the pain and blood loss, I’m feeling annoyed. “Seriously? We survive a wicked plane crash and you’re blathering on about how pissed our boss will be?” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “You’re unbelievable sometimes, dude.”
“What? You think she’s going to be happy we called attention to an injured vampire? Especially with all that’s going on? No need to worry about the nut-jobs in Argentina blowing it for supernaturals, we’ll do it all by ourselves.”
“Like a wounded vampire has never been accidentally taken to a hospital before? He can just mind-control them, you idiot.”
“Stop bickering,” Drew says with a slight wheeze, followed by a grimace of pain. “We’re going to start walking. As soon as my legs work.”
“How long will it take you to heal?” I ask Drew, hoping we can get moving soon.
“Pretty quick with an infusion of fresh blood.” He raises his eyebrows under the rips in his facial covering. “Any volunteers?”
Silence from Pat and me. All the times we’ve gone flying with Drew, somehow being his emergency snack never occurred to me.
“Any chance we were bringing back a shipment of blood in the plane?” Pat asks, a twitter of fear lacing his voice.
“Come on, guys. I’m not going to drain you dry for crying out loud. But if you want me to help walk back to civilization, one of you is going to need to donate to the cause.”
“Shit,” Pat says.
“That seems to be your favorite word today,” I say in a light voice.
“And what the fucking hell if it is?” The young werewolf waves his arms around. “We’ve just crashed a fucking PLANE. Don’t you think someone with long red hair is going to be really fucking pissed we destroyed her plane?” He’s apparently on a roll, because he starts to flail his arms more wildly. “Look at us. Look at this shit. We are FUCKING screwed, Eric!”
The voice of reason comes from Drew this time. “You obviously don’t know our master well.”
Pat whips around to stare at him. “She’s not my master. Not technically, at least. And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“To borrow from your vocabulary, she won’t give a shit about the fucking plane. It’s money. Easily replaceable. All she’ll care about is if we made it out alive.”
Pat takes a deep breath. The tension visibly leaving his body. “Oh. Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now give me your wrist, you stinky bastard.”
The volatile werewolf saunters closer, his swagger back now that his immediate fear has been addressed. “Dude, that’s not how you butter up a date.”
“You’re not a date. You’re a snack. Either that, or you can carry my broken body back to the inn and explain to Vivian why you wouldn’t help heal me.”
Pat immediately steps forward and kneels next to the prone vampire under the shady tree branch, offering his wrist. “No need to get hasty, you fanged bugger. Here.”
I move forward to offer my own wrist, but Drew waves me back, gesturing with his chin toward my leg. “We’ll be doing something for you next.”
And with that vague statement, he grabs Pat’s wrist and draws it toward his mouth. He bites cleanly and quickly, pulling sustenance eagerly from my friend’s veins.
“This is really gross,” Pat says within the first few seconds, but very quickly, his face changes and you can tell it’s not as bad as it once was. “Okay. Now I get the appeal. It’s starting to feel really good. Oh…. No.” His face scrunches up. “A bit too good.”
I laugh, despite the danger we’re in. My old friend is crossing his legs and looking uncomfortable.
“Dude, how much longer?” he asks the suckling vampire. “I’m ready for you to stop.”
Drew doesn’t answer, he keeps his mouth latched around the wound he made. After another minute he draws away, not a drop of blood spilling out to be wasted.
“Your turn,” the semi-satiated vampire says, motioning to me. He pats the ground next to him. “Sit here.”
“Sitting is kind of hard with this damn thing in my leg.”
Without warning, Drew’s hand flashes out and grabs the ragged piece of steel sticking out of my thigh. In one shift move he pulls it out, drawing an unexpected scream of agony from my lips.
“Fuuuccckkk!” I screech, the pain so strong I fall on my way to the ground. “What the hell are you doing?”
Drew doesn’t reply, he just tears his teeth across the skin on his wrist and thrusts it toward me. “Drink one mouthful.”
“That’s it!” Pat yells. “I’m outta here.” The squeamish werewolf leaves the cover of the shade and storms toward the smoking plane wreckage.
Drew hasn’t taken his eyes off me. “Do it. It’ll help you heal faster. And there’s no way we’re getting out of here quickly with you on one leg.”
Disgust roiling in my middle, I lean forward, and place my mouth over his wound. I pull in one mouthful of his sickly sweet and salty blood, forcing my gag reflex back. I swallow it, and instantly feel the magic from his blood filling my body. The pain in my leg subsides as his stronger blood helps the accelerated healing process werewolves already possess.
The blood seeping slowly out of the fresh wound stops, and in a few more minutes my leg is completely healed.
The power contained in the vampire’s blood doesn’t stop with the healing of my leg. The surge of strength and the feeling I can accomplish anything fills me, compelling me to get up, to DO something, to do anything rather than sit here. “That’s some good shit you’ve got there,” I say, a slight slur in my voice.
“You don’t need much to aide your lycan healing abilities.”
“So I gathered.” I stand and test my weight on the leg. All’s good. “What’s next?”
“Next, we call back Pat and devise a plan.”
“Sounds good.” I lurch forward, using my arms to clear away the branches hampering my view. “Jackass!” I call to my best friend. “Where are you?”
“Are you two done with your ‘moment’?” Pat yells from the broken luggage compartment in the hull.
I leap, covering the distance from the tree to the plane in one bound. I stick my head through a jagged opening in the metal hull to see what he’s doing.
“Boo!” I call out, hoping to surprise him.
Pat jerks slightly and looks up, cocking an eyebrow. “What the hell’s up with you? What are you, ten?”
“I feel really good, man. Like really good. Invincible good. Leg’s good as new.” To punctuate my healthiness, I punch a fist through the steel next to me.
“And… I think you’re a little high from the blood. Calm down and make it last. We’ve got a long trip back.”
A hopeful lilt comes into my voice. “Does that mean you’ve figured out where we are?”
“Not quite. I’ve been thinking about when we left, how long we traveled before the malfunctions hit, and where we might be.”
“What did you determine?”
“That we’re screwed, just like I said. A half hour by plane covers a shit-load of territory, especially up here in no man’s land.”
A thought occurs to me and I dig out my cell phone. No servi
ce, of course. “Damn it. There goes my one bright idea.”
“If a cell phone hundreds of miles from a cell tower is your bright idea, then you need a better imagination.”
I shove him playfully across the debris field back to our friend sitting in the shade, and duck under the branches.
“Ah, you found him,” Drew says.
“Yeah, not like he could have gone far. So what’s next? How are you feeling?”
“I’m good to go. The minor wounds have all closed and internally I’m no longer hemorrhaging.”
“Internal bleeding? You can tell that kind of thing?”
Drew raises a shoulder. “You learn more about your body and how things work over many, many years of existence. I had pain, I knew it needed to heal, I got blood—all healed. Pretty simple.”
I motion to the large tears in the stretchy fabric covering his legs, torso, and arms. “You can’t see it, but the back is worse. How are you going to survive the sun?”
“I have an idea,” Pat says, dashing back to the scattered boxes, opening them one by one. “Aha! Diane bought some new clothes this time. Let’s see what we can do to protect him from the sun.”
Pat returns, carrying two pairs of jeans. “Let’s wrap these around you and see if it’s enough to block out the sun. Give me your paracord bracelet, Eric.”
“Why?”
He draws out a knife from his pocket. “So I can cut up the jeans and then tie them around him, using the rope to keep the material in place.”
“Good idea. And then what?” I ask, slipping the bracelet over my hand. “We walk home?”
“Do you have a better plan?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then. Walking it is.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VIVIAN
I stride into the conference room, glancing around to make sure everyone has arrived. Justin sits next to his brother, Asa, and only then can I see a slight family resemblance, mostly around the eyes and jawline.
“Reports. Where are we with locating the plane?” My eyes shift to Asa.
“Diego reported losing contact with the plane approximately an hour outside Fairbanks. At that time, if they’d gone down, they’d be close to two hundred miles from Deadfoot.”
Sharpen the Blade (The V V Inn Book 6) Page 12