The One We Answer To: A Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 3)

by Daniels, May Ellis

  The truck’s tires spin deep into the dirt, and when they finally bite the truck leaps forward, straight at the biker bar and the douchebags coming for me. I roll out of the truck as it zooms across the parking lot, gaining speed.

  Someone shouts a warning.

  The bullets stop flying as the motherfuckers scatter.

  I want to be dead when the Stricken feed on my heart. You hear that, world? I’m not asking much. Just fucking kill me. I don’t want to see my own heat beating in the night air.

  I leap to my feet and race behind the truck, not quite as fast as I’d like because of the acid burning in my hip. My shadow-wolves chase down a few bikers as they flee.

  The truck ploughs into a Stricken, a slow-moving lizard creature, and he flies over the cab and lands in the box. He’s stunned, shaking his head, his filmy-white eyes looking at me and blinking stupidly when the truck collides with the first few Harley’s, and as their gas tanks ignite and the fireball roars to burning orange I hear the sound of more Harley’s tearing into the parking lot behind me and I know I’m well and truly fucked, because it seems whoever runs the joint was smart enough to call for backup—

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LILY

  “WE HAVE TO run, Lil,” Trish says, and the exhaustion in my friend’s voice tells me she doesn’t have much more running left in her.

  “No,” I say as the trucks and bikes zoom across the lawn toward the hedge we’re hiding in. “No more running. This time we fight.”

  Even if it is my old pal Mia.

  Especially if it’s Mia.

  “Your Skin friend speaks true,” Shiori says in a way that sends a shiver sliding down my neck. “I also believe we must run.”

  I might not like the moon-faced chick, but she’s my packmate, my sister if you believe the legends, and so it’s up to me to figure out a way to lead her.

  I reach inside myself, calling the creature. She hisses and spits and stalks close. She smells the same black blood I do. I wish I was wrong about the woman who now calls herself Admah being my old biker friend Mia. I didn’t care much for the snarky bitch, but I don’t truly want to see her killed, and I know if I loose my creature she’ll die for certain.

  My creature is loyal to one thing only: herself.

  After that, a distant second, is her pack.

  The rest of the world, Skin and Stricken and Pureblood, mean nothing to her.

  My claws lengthen and drop. My mouth widens into the silver she-wolf’s wide, fang-lined jaws. There’s an odd, tingling itch beneath my shoulder blades as my wings press through my skin. My clothes smolder and burn as my skin begins heating—

  “Wait, Lil,” Trish says. “There’s something…”

  I hear a loud whooshing sound directly overhead, then a horrible crashing wave of sound.

  Cawing.

  The New World Order scream at one another, and then there’s a tremendous eruption of gunfire. I duck and fling myself deeper into the hedge, believing they’re firing at us, but Trish holds her position behind me and I slam into her.

  “The black vultures,” Trish stammers, “they’re coming in low over us and attacking the convoy. They used the house and hedge to hide their approach.”

  “We gettin’ real lucky, boss lady,” Wes says as the vultures shriek and scream and the machine guns blaze. There’s flurry of quick popping punctuated by a boom so loud the sound makes the ground beneath us shake.

  “What the fuck is that?” Trish says, scanning through the hedge.

  “Anti-aircraft, from the look of it,” Wes answers. “The New World Order got its hands on some beauty firepower. Probably raided a the military base.”

  Yeah.

  That sounds just like Mia.

  And leave it to Mia to lead a pack of fucked-up survivalists and asshole ex-bikers into the end of the world.

  She’ll go out fighting, that one.

  A bullet wings through the hedge, inches overhead.

  “I’m a gunna leave you now, boss lady,” Wes says. “No matter how special you is, I’m still a broke-down junkie and these bullets’ll kill me right quick—”

  “Wes is right,” Trish says. “They’re distracted. Now’s the best time to make a break for the house.”

  “They’ll scent us out,” Anik says.

  “Maybe,” Trish says. “But lets cross that bridge. Right now we’re gunna die—”

  “Lily look out!” Anik shouts.

  Something smashes through the cedar hedge and straight into me, slamming me backward, and from the scent of him I know it’s a Skin. He screams something unintelligible and slams his fist into my face. Fireworks of colored light explode behind my eyes, and then I have him by the neck, my claws digging into him, and he’s pawing and scraping at me and then there’s a wet tearing sound as I rip out his throat and he goes limp in my hands.

  I lower the Skin’s body to the ground.

  No one says a word, but everyone’s breathing quick.

  Waiting for me to make the call.

  “Are they coming?” I ask, trying to see through the hedge.

  “No,” Trish says. “That chickenshit fled the vultures.”

  Another shattering boom, then the wrenching shriek of a vulture dying and the smell of black blood flowing heavy into my nose.

  “That gun fucking cut the bird in half,” Wes says, half whistling between his teeth.

  “I will feed on a beating black heart,” Shiori says, her voice buzzing and broken as she inches through the hedge toward the battle.

  I latch my hand onto her wrist and say, in my most commanding tone, “You will stay here. Close.”

  Something lands on my arm. Bites into me.

  The sting is immensely painful, and nearly forces me to release Shiori.

  The fucking bitch just bit me.

  Her alpha.

  “Do that again and I swear I’ll tear your pasty fucking head off,” I snarl.

  Another wasp lands on my arm. Then another. And another.

  “Shiori…” Anik warns.

  I hold tight to Shiori’s wrist. Her skin wriggles beneath me. A million insects buzz inside her, begging to be freed. Only a few yards away I hear Mia screaming commands at her men.

  The snake-bitch has it easy, leading Skins.

  “Get your fucking bugs off of me,” I say, my voice perfectly even.

  The wasps remain for a long moment, brushing their hooked legs against my skin, ready to sink their stingers into me if their master bids them to.

  Then, one by one, they lift away.

  “Good,” I say to Shiori. “Now. You will stay close. Understand? We’re all hungry. But this pack hunts together. Feeds together.”

  Shiori says nothing, looses a frustrated, petulant little sigh that makes me think of a spoiled teenager, and then I know how my Risen sister needs to be led: like a vain, self-important movie star, left alone until she feels neglected then showered with praise and attention.

  Just my luck, to have a high-maintenance princess for a packmate.

  I force myself to release Shiori’s wrist without snapping it in two, then summon my nicest voice and say, “Shiori? What do you think? Do we wait for nightfall to travel, or leave now?”

  “Only a fool travels by day,” Shiori says, sounding completely uninterested.

  “Fine,” I say. “Then it’s settled. We hold up in the house.”

  The buzzing sound quiets.

  I smile inwardly.

  My little princess sister likes feeling appreciated—

  A horrible wail from beyond the hedge makes me shudder and look at the battle raging only fifty yards away.

  The New World Order are winning. Five of seven vultures are down. Some of the men are running at the vultures who’ve fallen. Throwing that strange orange powder on them, then leaping on the vultures when they burn. Cutting off their heads.

  A part of me wants to call out to Mia. She could be a valuable ally…but I remember how much she despised me. Her jealousy. No.
She’ll never fight beside me after what I did to Aaron, and I realize that one day I’ll likely have to murder her.

  But hopefully not today.

  “On three we run to the house,” I say over roaring gunfire and screams of the dying. “One…two…”

  “They’re here Admah!” Wes screams, leaping from the hedge and racing at Mia and her New World Order. “They’re here right here I brought them to you they’re strong they’re animal freaks please Admah I found them I’ll take the vow I need to—”

  Machine guns pop. Wes’s voice stops abruptly.

  “Shot him,” Trish says without a trace of emotion. “Blew his head off. Serves him right.”

  “I knew he’d betray us,” Shiori sneers.

  “C’mon, Lil,” Trish says, pulling me from the hedge.

  I grip Pimniq’s hand and step out into the small lawn that leads to the suburban mansion. The sun glows warm against my face as we race across the lawn, then pause at the door while I try the handle.

  It’s locked.

  “Shoulder it open, Anik,” Trish says.

  “No!” I say. “It should look…like it hasn’t been tampered with. Shiori? Would you?”

  “What?”

  “Fly inside and open it?”

  Shiori sighs. Christ. I feel like a babysitter, and then I remember Aaron saying something similar about leading his pack. I never knew how exhausting it could be, and suddenly a rush of anger and resentment slams into me.

  I didn’t ask for this. Fuck these people.

  I can’t lead them, and I don’t even know what I’m leading them to.

  This isn’t even my war. Maybe I’m spending my last few hours alive trying to wrangle a bunch of thankless freaks into doing something that won’t end up helping anybody.

  I think about the wings sprouting from my back.

  The freedom they promise.

  I could summon my creature and fly away from here. It doesn’t matter where. Just leave the bullshit and madness behind, and then I remember Aaron, his sparkling blue eyes and quick, all-too-rare smile, the feeling of his skin close to mine, how he smelled, so warm and woodsy and strong. How he kissed me, like our time together meant something, and suddenly I miss him more than I ever imagined possible, and with the missing comes a flood of emotion I sure-as-shit don’t want to deal with right now: grief and guilt and self-hatred at what I did to him, because the truth is he didn’t know—

  He didn’t know.

  I believe that much.

  I believe he didn’t know she was my mother.

  But in that moment after killing August Lerrick, with my creature raging so close, and feeling tired and scared and uncertain, when Connor told me what Aaron had done…I just…lost it.

  I lost control.

  I’ll go to my grave carrying this grief.

  Some mistakes don’t fade with time. Some mistakes stick with you, toxic, hurtful, year after year. Some even grow worse as you age and your life seems to fold around their memory, like a tree folding around a fencepost.

  I don’t want to live with this mistake eating at me for the rest of my life.

  I need to see my bloodmate.

  If he’s still alive.

  A loud buzzing sound brings me back to the here and now, then the door opens and there’s Shiori smirking and offering me a snide little bow.

  “Search the place,” I say as I step inside.

  The air in the house is hot and smells faintly of PineSol and the sickly fake-lavender stink of air freshener.

  I wrinkle my nose. Something’s wrong.

  “Anik! You stay at the door,” I say. “Anything comes, you call that beautiful bear. Understand?”

  Anik nods but says nothing, and I take that to mean he doubts if he can.

  ***

  It doesn’t take us long to find them. An entire family, parents and their three children, all huddled close to one another in the middle of the master bedroom. The room’s been lined in plastic sheets, the kind used to wrap house insulation. Plastic’s draped over the furniture, the windows, even the people themselves are layered in it, wrapped up snug like they’re in bed. There’s a few belongings scattered about: a well-worn doll; a skateboard; some family photos.

  Trish wraps her hand over her eyes and sobs.

  “It’s like how the Egyptians used to bury their dead with the belongings they wanted to carry into the afterlife,” Pimniq says, and when she catches my questioning glance she blushes and says, “Did a school project on Cleopatra.”

  Pimniq’s so quiet and skilled at staying out from underfoot I didn’t notice her coming up the stairs behind me and Trish. But she’s little more than a child herself.

  She shouldn’t have to see this, and I tell her so.

  “I’ve seen worse,” she answers in a way that makes it clear she resents being babied.

  Damn. Kids grow up quick these days.

  “Murder?” I ask.

  “No,” Trish says in a tone I recognize from our days with the Seattle PD. “No sign of struggle. Looks like they took something, then laid down for the long sleep.”

  “Not an irrational choice, given the circumstances,” I say, stepping carefully forward and listening to the plastic sheeting crackle underfoot.

  “No,” Trish says, so softly I almost miss it. “Makes damned good sense to me.”

  “What do we do with them?” Shiori asks.

  “Nothing,” Trish says. “Leave them be. They wanted it this way.”

  I imagine the despair that drove this family to their deaths. The hopelessness.

  And it’s only been a few weeks since the world came unglued.

  It will get worse.

  Unless I manage to stop him.

  Suddenly a shooting pain lances through my head. How many have died already? How many more will die? And somehow I’m supposed to prevent that? Banish the Blood Moon? Right the ocean tides? Kill or banish the First Fallen and his fucking Stricken army? The terrible weight of responsibility crushes into me, and then I’m on my knees, gasping for air, with Trish leaning over me, talking me through the panic attack, her voice garbled and distant but still helpful, a lifeline keeping me tethered to fragile sanity.

  Shiori watches me sputter and wheeze and choke. Her black eyes bore into me. Observing my weakness. Judging me. The malicious little bitch. True strength isn’t about being cold-hearted. It’s about being honest with how you feel and working through it. Otherwise you end up like the Stricken. Twisted. Vile. Evil.

  Trish helps me stand, and I’m about to say we should head to the basement when something changes. At first I can’t put my finger on it, but then I know: the gunfire’s stopped.

  The vulture’s death calls have quieted.

  “It’s over,” I whisper. “She’s won.”

  “Who?” Pimniq asks.

  “Mi…I mean…Admah and the New World Order. They’ve defeated the Stricken vulture flock.”

  Trish gives me a look to let me know she also knows Admah’s true identity.

  “The prisoners. The Stricken chained to that truck? They’ll scent us hiding in here,” Pimniq says in a high-pitched voice. “They’ll reveal us.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But there’s nothing we can do now. If we were going to keep running we should’ve done it when they were distracted.”

  “Let them come,” Shiori says. “I do not fear stinking Skins.”

  I resist the urge to backhand her.

  We hurry down the carpeted steps to the landing where Anik’s guarding the door.

  “You hear?” he asks, and when I nod he says, “I don’t think I can call him, Lily. He’s still with me, but he’s far away.”

  Anik hangs his head in shame.

  I reach out and hold his shoulder. He stiffens at my touch, as if he doesn’t trust me quite enough for me to be this close, and I quickly release him. “Don’t blame yourself, Anik. My animal’s also weakened. It must be the First Fallen’s power.”

  “What do we do?”
Pimniq asks, fear making her voice tremble.

  Silence. They’re waiting for me to say something.

  Waiting for me to lead.

  All I feel like doing is downing some Adderol, getting drunk and hitting the clubs with Trish. Maybe picking up a cute guy and taking him home. Y’know. All the silly bullshit I used to do before I became this big thing that everyone keeps telling me I am, the All Encompassing, the savior of the world.

  My packmates are still silent.

  “I hate being holed up here,” I say slowly. “But I don’t think—”

  “Lil!” Anik whispers. “Shh!”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “They’re here,” Anik says, fear and defeat darkening his soft voice. “They’re coming—”

  “No one makes a sound,” I whisper.

  A few rumbling Harley’s roll into the driveway. Their engines cough and spit, then stutter to a halt. A car door slams closed. Boots ring on the paving stones just outside.

  “You sure you want to go in without the rest of the crew?” a man’s voice calls out.

  “You sure you like that crooked little pinkie you call a prick?” Mia answers. “Cuz if I have to say it again I’ll rip it off and stuff it down your throat. The three of us are going in. Doubt there’s anything worth killing in here anyway. The fucking freaks were probably smelling their own dead.”

  “Anik!” I whisper. “Get Pimniq out of here. Now!”

  “I’m not leaving you—”

  “Now!”

  Anik and Pim flee from the entryway.

  “Just us girls,” Trish says in a way that lets me know she wishes it were just she and I.

  The footsteps stop outside the door. I can scent Mia now, her sweat and strength and anger, and the two men with her, both Skins.

  “Kick it in,” Mia snarls.

  “Come to me,” I whisper to my animal, hoping she’ll respond. “Come to me now.”

  My fangs and claws drop and my skin warms but that’s all, and even that little bit makes my legs nearly buckle with exhaustion.