“Did you really expect us to meet her and give you our stamp of approval? Honestly, I wanted to stay as far out of it as I possibly could. So that we didn’t influence your decision at all. This needs to be something you do for you.”
A silence stretches between us as I contemplate her words, the only sound the beating helicopter blades above us.
“Is that all that she really needs to be—‘the right one’ for me? What if you like her and Rafe hates her? What if she refuses to bond with you? What happens then?”
She smiles reassuringly, and pats my thigh once more before removing her hand. “There are some things no one can refuse. But that’s neither here nor there. More importantly, she needs to get to know us, to decide if she wants to be a part of what we share. That will take time.” She looks out the window, her eyes tracking the eagle. “I look forward to meeting her.”
The panic I felt before grips my heart again. “Umm…. Well, uh… you kind of have met her already.”
Vivian rips her gaze from the window and says, “And how’s that?”
Unable to meet her penetrating stare, I look away. “Mariposa.”
Vivian laughs. “Clever bitch. Very clever. She came in under my radar to get to know me. Smart girl you’ve got there, Jon.”
This feels surreal. It’s not bad, like I feared. Rafe knew. It seems like the only one to worry about has been me. I was the problem all along. And why is that? God, this is a big step. Have I known Candy long enough? I can’t believe I’ve been practically frozen with indecision about this.
Love should be easy. And I made everything harder than it needed to be. “I’m confused. This mean you’re not angry?”
“What did you expect of me, Jon? Did you think I fly off the handle, and try to scare off your girlfriend? Or, I don’t know, maybe look inside her head to make sure she had the best intentions toward you? Were you worried that Rafe and I would somehow not approve?” A smirk forms on her face.
I know she’s teasing me but the shock bubbling inside doesn’t quite know what to do with this new development.
“So… Let me get this straight. You’re not worried about who I’m dating, and you don’t want to look in her head?”
She reaches out once again to pat my knee reassuringly before drawing her hand away. “Oh, Jon, poor misguided, Jon.” She laughs again. This time loud and long. “Love is what I’ve always dreamed of for you.”
My eyebrows creep up my forehead. She’s dreamed of me finding a mate? It’s something I’ve dreamed about but why would she? My mind skitters back to the dream I experienced last night, and with it comes confusion. What does the couple want from me? If last night’s dream truly was a shared experience like I think it was, which one of them had the dream? I know it sure as hell wasn’t me.
“Jon, no matter what you think of me and Rafe and the relationship the three of us share, it will always be our relationship. You know you are invaluable to us—we need you in our lives. There’s no one we trust by our side, and frankly with our lives, except you. But what does that mean for you? When do you get to have the love of your life? When do you get to start a family, when do you get to live?”
She shakes her head, looks back out the window, leaning forward a bit to see if she can spot the eagle. “Whether you believe it or not, I’ve always had your best interests at heart. Pledging your loyalty to me and becoming a vampire servant was never meant to be a prison sentence. You’ve never experienced true happiness of your own. Working with us is not a full-time job, right?” She turns and looks at me, her questioning expression indicating this time I’m supposed to answer.
“No, you’re right. It’s not a full-time job. And I do need those things you mentioned. A love of my own, a family. I… I… I guess, I’m just in shock. I expected…”
“You expected me to go bat shit crazy on your ass, right? Come on, Jon, we’ve been friends for almost eight years now. Eight. Years. Don’t you deserve to take a mate by now?”
I stare at her across the space between us and I don’t have an answer. Was it all my own internal fears and self-doubts, and I projected all of it onto Vivian? As if she would be the one to make my life a living hell, or ruin my relationship? God forbid I actually take responsibility for my own life and relationships—and whether either works or not is totally my fault.
“Okay, so you’re all right with this? And so is Rafe?”
“Trust me, Jon. This is something we’ve both wanted for you for a very long time. I will do everything in my power to not scare away your intended.”
“Whoa, hold on now. I don’t know if intended is the right word.” My brow furrows. “But if I’m thinking about her as a mate, then I guess ‘intended’ is as good as any, right?”
“How about we talk about this more when we’re on the ground—and after we’ve found our missing friends.” She holds the charm. “It’s getting warm. The same thing it did when we went in the right direction while hunting Rolando in Buenos Aires. We’re not only traveling in the right direction, but I think we’re getting closer.”
“Okay, we’ll talk later. But don’t think this is the end of it. I want you to meet her, I just wasn’t sure when the time was right.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m looking forward to meeting her. I’m bummed I won’t have a dog but, I can get another one.” And with that she taps a button on her mic, opening the channel to Diego for him to hear us as well. “Do you see the eagle behind us?”
There’s a crackle of static before he responds, and he says, “Yeah, I see it. Are you worried about me hurting it or something?”
“No. I want you to slow down and follow it.” And with that she looks over at me and winks. “You said she wants to help, right?” I nod. “She knows what we’re looking for. It’s a plane crash site. She’s got better eyes than we do. To find a needle in a haystack, she’s the one to follow.”
Hope surges within me, battling at the same time my own inner demons. Was I the cause of all my drama? And if I am, what does that say about me? If I look deep inside myself, would I have seen their acceptance sooner?
And if I would have, then what does it truly mean—that perhaps instead, what I’ve been doing is more about me. How I feel about Candy. Whether or not I’m ready to commit.
We watch my girlfriend fly in circles, hovering steady above her, before she picks up speed and goes in another direction. We fly in silence for about twenty minutes. The energy in the cabin spikes as we fly toward Fairbanks, which can only mean one thing. We’re finally getting closer to the crash site.
As the time progresses, Vivian presses her face closer to the window, she’s literally watching the eagle like a hawk. I smile. I can’t believe this is going to go better than I expected. Granted, we’re currently running a rescue mission to recover our missing seethe and packmates—but other than that, things are good.
After all, Vivian’s connection to Drew would indicate if he was truly in danger or dead, right? And if he’s dead, then more than likely so are Eric and Pat. So, since we haven’t heard different from Vivian, I’m assuming the best. That all three are alive and well—just waiting for us to find them.
“Down there!” Vivian calls out. “I see something. It could be a lot of garbage… I’m not sure. Let’s go for a closer luck.”
Diego’s voice responds over the headphones, “Yes, ma’am. I see an area along a stream bed I can set the chopper down. If this is the crash site, that’s gotta be where they tried to take the plane down. Give me a few minutes to land.”
To his word, after finding a suitable place, the bird’s landing gear connects with the dry stream bed. He shuts off the blades and gives us the okay to disembark. Candy is nowhere in sight as we slide the doors back and jump out.
Vivian gathers her long hair in one hand at the nape of her neck and dashes for the trees. I follow, turning and giving a thumbs up to Diego and then hold up my hand with five fingers to indicate we’ll be back in five minutes. He nods and I turn back to f
ollow Viv.
She’s on a mission, there’s no doubt about it. She calls out, already racing ahead of me, “The wreckage is here!” We run together, then skid to a stop in a larger clearing around the dry bed, about another two hundred yards downstream. The sight stills my heart. Twisted metal, burnt dashboard, pieces of the wing and cabin strewn about the clearing. A bloody front seat, the seatbelt dangling, also dark with blood. How the hell did they walk away from this?
Vivian answers the question she heard my head, “They survived because they’re supernatural. There’s no way in hell anyone else could have walked away from this.”
The whole prop plane is in pieces, strewn up and down the shoreline. Wings torn off among the trees, the back end of the plane almost looking like it exploded with packages.
Within a minute, we find a seat completely by itself torn apart from the hull of the plane. I bend closer, taking a deep breath. “It’s Eric. I know the smell of his blood.”
“Well, that’s awfully handy.”
Candy, having located the site first, circles above us and lands on a nearby tree branch.
Vivian waves to her. “Hello, Candy. Jon and I had a nice talk in the helicopter.” The vampire dips her head regally. “I can’t wait until we get a chance to meet—in person this time.”
Candy starts to transform, and once again I feel as if there’s a vise around my heart. Am I ready for this? For my two worlds to collide? But to my surprise, my girlfriend doesn’t shift into her human form. She shifts into a black and tan bloodhound. Of course! Why didn’t I think that?
The bloodhound races over to the seat with the blood and takes a great big whiff. A loud booming bark fills the clearing as the bloodhound’s tail wags.
Vivian smiles, a crooked, cocky grin if I ever saw one. “Now that’s a smart bitch you’ve got there, Jon.”
Candy the bloodhound walks around and heads toward a tree set off from the stream. She barks again and we join her. It looks as if the three of them sat here for a while in the shade.
“Yes, I believe you’re right,” Vivian says, as if she understood exactly what the bark meant. “I’m smelling vampire blood. Which means Drew has been injured as well.”
“But he can heal quickly. Do we need to be concerned?”
Vivian looks at the sun high overhead, shielding her eyes. “He’s not as old as I am. He won’t be able to handle the sun for long, especially with wounds and blood loss. I’m sure the boys will help him. But for how long they safely can is what I worry about most.”
“Candy got the right idea to track them as a bloodhound. By the scent, they’ve left here hours ago. I’d like to change into my wolf form so we can track them together. How about we use the mental connection you and I share while you fly with Diego and direct him to follow?”
“That’ll work. I like the idea.”
“Great. You take my clothes.”
Unwilling to strip in front of Vivian with my girlfriend watching, I decide to go behind a tree. Call me a wimp if you want, but avoiding conflict is much safer.
I take my clothes off and fold them, calling the transformation as quickly I can. Not literally between one blink of an eye and the next, but certainly much faster than most Weres. I emerge from behind the tree, my tail held high, with the clothes in my mouth, and the relief of happiness seeping through me. We’re almost there. We’re going to find them and all will be good.
Candy bounds over to me, her deeper bark more piercing and somehow soul-wrenching then when she was a Pit Bull. She trots over to their scent trail leading off into the woods and I follow, not bothering to look back because I trust Vivian will follow us in the chopper with Diego.
That’s what you do. You trust the people who have your back. With strong support, you can accomplish anything. Even if it’s as simple as tracking a blood trail through the woods.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ERIC
The sun blazes overhead, flashes of its warmth penetrating my skin whenever we step from beneath the shade of the trees above us. I don’t mind the heat, but for the vampire supported between myself and my best friend Pat, the rays of the sun don’t bring just heat, but a burning blistered skin, red with pain. My muscles ache, my body stinks, and I feel weaker than a two-week old kitten drenched in water.
Drew’s step fumbles, his weight pulling across my shoulders, causing me to grasp him firmer under the arm and brace with my legs, so we don’t all go down in a sprawling heap on the forest floor.
“How much further to Haul Road, do you think?” Pat asks.
“Don’t you think if I knew that I would have said something by now?” Frustration and exhaustion make me sharper than normal. “I mean seriously dude, if I had a clue I would have said something a few hours ago.”
“No need to get testy with me, you snaggle-toothed bastard. I was just wondering. Or maybe ‘hoping’ would be a better word.”
A sigh escapes me. “I don’t mean to sound like a son of a bitch, sorry.”
“Stop,” Drew’s voice whispers. “I need to stop for the night.”
“Night? This isn’t night, man,” Pat says. “I think the sunlight is making him loopy. He did say night, right?”
I scan the tree line ahead of us, looking for something, anything, that we can seek shelter under. Up ahead, to the right, is a denser grouping of pines. Their branches cast a dark shadow near the base of their trunks, providing cover.
“Over there,” I say, with a nod of my head. Pat’s gaze follows the direction I’ve indicated, and his chin dips in understanding.
“Just a little farther, Drew. Can you handle it?”
In response, Drew’s knees collapse, forcing all his weight on us. “Shit,” exclaims Pat, “for a dead guy, he sure is heavy.”
Seeing no other choice, I shift my weight and turn toward Drew, “Alley–ooop,” I say while placing my shoulder in his middle and hoisting him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Once he’s up and I’m steady, I head toward the trees.
“Come on, man. You got to face the facts,” Pat says, pointing at our ever-weakening friend. “He’s not going to make it. Dude, are you listening to me? How far is Fairbanks from Deadfoot?”
Unwilling to listen and determined to keep moving, I shake my head, hoping to drive his words away. “Just let it go, man. We have to keep going. And we are not leaving him behind. Leave no man behind. Is that something you’ve forgotten so soon?” I reach the shade and ease our friend’s body down carefully, mindful of his many open wounds.
The frustration seeps off Pat, making his face twisted and sour. Reminds me of one time we were drinking in the woods in West Milford. The drunker he got the more belligerent he became with his opinion and being right. But then again, he could be right this time and it’s my own stubbornness that’s not allowing me to admit it. Dammit. I check on Drew instead.
He lies on his side in the shade, arms draped over his head, unmoving, un-breathing, and by all appearances, he looks dead. Until you look closely and see fresh blood oozing from the new sun sores he’s received.
Without warning, Pat shoves me from behind and I stumble forward, catching myself on a branch. “What the fuck, man?”
“Listen to me, you arrogant bastard! We don’t know how far we are to Haul Road. We’re still easily over a hundred miles from Deadfoot. There is no way we can keep going at this pace. We have no idea when help will arrive.” He shoves me again, this time in my chest. “Are you listening? Are you really listening to me now, Eric? We can’t save him by ourselves. He’s going to lose it. Look at him! Would you look at him!”
Tension and rage tightens my fists. It takes everything in me not to punch him right in the face. I can’t believe he wants to leave our friend here. Just leave him in the woods to freaking roast to death. “I hear you. You’re shouting. It’s kind of difficult not to hear you, fuck face.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not leaving him here. It feels wrong.”
“We’re not de
serting him on a freakin’ battlefield. We’d be going for help. Sure as shit beats dragging his weak, bloody ass with us.”
Drew moans softly from the ground. Small whispers of “go, go, go” escaping from his bloodied, cracked lips.
“Fine,” I say, frustration getting the better of me. “What do you suggest?”
“That we dig a narrow, shallow trench, put him in it, and cover him up so he’s protected from the sun.”
“How will we lead the others back to him? You know they’re looking for us. We could build a signal fire, use green wood so it would be really smoky. Maybe then they would find us?”
“Yeah,” Pat agrees. “We could do that. But you’re forgetting about search parties from Fairbanks. If they’re out looking for us, the fire will lead a clear path to where we are. With a hungry vampire waiting for them.”
I look over at Drew’s huddled form, guilt seeping through me. “But to just leave him. It’s wrong. What about bears and wolves?”
“He’s got deadly and dangerous predator written all over him. It’s in his blood, his energy, his very scent. Animals aren’t stupid. They sense it. I don’t think anything is gonna bother him out here.”
“Drew?” I ask. “What do you think? Should we leave you, buried safely underground, and go get help?”
“Go, go, go…”
“I think that says it all.” Pat says with a smile. “He’s on board with the idea. Let’s get digging.”
Without further ado, Pat and I grab some thick sticks and use their ragged ends to clear the pine needles, leaves, and loose surface dirt from an area underneath the tree. We dig for a few minutes until we have a trench roughly the length of his body, and about a foot to a foot and a half deep.
Pat straightens from his kneeling position, wiping his sweaty face on a sleeve. “I think it’s good, don’t you? We’re not digging a real grave or anything like that, you know.” He finishes with a chuckle, perhaps trying to lighten up the situation. I don’t know, but it seems weird to be burying our friend.
Sharpen the Blade (The V V Inn Book 6) Page 17