by Rebecca Main
“And we’re not out of danger yet, Stavok,” Wyatt adds, opening the side van door and placing his tranquilizer rifle inside, then his side guns. “This is still wolf territory, and we’re bound to catch notice if we stay out here much longer.”
“But it wasn’t a trap,” comes her biting response, refusing to remove her belt or armor when Wyatt holds out an expectant hand. “Nothing happened, JJ. Nothing. We could still—”
“No,” JJ says harshly, all manner of civility gone from his demeanor. He wears the role of Stellar Warrior like some indifferent mask. Like I used to. No trace of emotion in body or voice. This is simply a job that cannot be done, and casualties won’t be risked with the odds so high against us. Wyatt lets out a small noise of frustration when Naomi crosses her arms and turns to me.
“This was your idea, Callie. Back me up on this; we can’t just leave. What about the ring? What if we used one of our tree posts to scout for just a day? We could keep an eye out for Nova and execute a plan to get the ring—”
“You want to take back the ring, then go out looking for your sister again with a pack of wolves and witches hot on our trail? All the while in the contested territory of said wolves?” Wyatt asks sardonically, walking forward, hand still outstretched. “Brilliant plan. Now hand over your weapons. We keep to protocol and catalog all items.”
Naomi removes her guns, shaking with anger. Wyatt rolls his eyes to me as if to say, “See what I have to put up with?” But all I see is a girl coming to terms with the loss of a sister, finally succumbing to grief after my false hope crumbles all around us. There will be no retrieving the ring. No returning Nova. And I will face the consequences of my failures once again. Forced to marry a man I know I can never love, and lose the respect of my people for my rash decisions.
I catch the look of sorrow and resignation on Naomi’s face and clench my teeth. No. We can’t give up. We can’t leave it like this. The blade has to work. Wyatt ticks something off on a clipboard from the van, setting aside Naomi’s guns. JJ undoes his belt and armor, tossing them in the van and rubbing a hand over his head.
“Your gear, Callie,” he says, somewhat tiredly, but I find myself shaking my head. He stiffens at the action, shoulders rolling back and face tightening. “Your gear, that’s an order, Warrior.” I shake my head more firmly, stepping back as the faintest hint of adrenaline kindles in my blood.
“I’m not a Warrior anymore, JJ. Besides, I won’t be anything if I don’t stay and finish this. We all know that.” I let my words settle, catching the varying reactions of everyone: JJ contrite, Naomi cautiously optimistic, and Wyatt furious. “If I go back without something to show for all of this, then I’m better off out here anyway. The Council will have my head for taking the blade and coming up with this plan, not to mention all the expended resources. Naomi, give me the blade. I’ll finish this.”
Naomi takes in a shaky breath, judging the distance between us, as well as Wyatt and JJ’s alert stances. Both lunge forward when she grabs the knife and throws it to me. I catch it out of the air easily.
“Dammit, you guys,” JJ curses, pacing backward. “This isn’t the time for—”
“Calliope, we talked about this,” Wyatt says calmly, taking a tentative step forward. “You don’t have to worry about the Council.”
JJ looks uncertainly between us. “What does he mean, Cal?”
“We agreed to wed on the plane ride home,” he tells JJ. The forest feels uncomfortably quiet at his announcement.
Despite myself, I feel a tepid heat fill my cheeks. “No,” I reply, straightening my spine, “you proposed the idea of marriage as a solution. I didn’t agree with it.”
“It’s the only way, Calliope,” he snaps. “Don’t be stupid. This is the wendigo Church Hill all over again, at least that’s what everyone will think. Now give your brother your gear back and get the fuck in the van!” His temper flies from zero to sixty in no time, echoing through the trees. It clears any remaining wildlife from the vicinity—not that there’s much to begin with anyway.
The hair at the back of my neck stands to attention as I watch JJ stop. His head ticking to one side. Our eyes clash as his earlier words drill into my head… all the signs of a trap. Naomi and I flick our wrists at the same time, bracers igniting. The boys go tense, their weapons out of reach.
“I have an idea,” a voice drawls. “Give me the blade, and in return, you can have my newest pet.”
Nova pitches forward from behind the van, a quiet “oomph” sounding from her lips before she crashes to her knees. Hands tied behind her back with thick black rope, she keeps her head bowed forward, but it hardly disguises the state she's in. Her clothing is soiled with both dirt and blood, along with most of her skin.
The other vampyré steps out from behind the van in stark contrast to Nova. He’s dressed entirely too nicely for the situation at hand, wearing dark slacks and a pressed long-sleeved shirt rolled to the elbows. Both of which are tailored to his long and lean body. The vampyré’s silver-stained eyes are startling against his alabaster skin and high cheekbones, and they watch us with a bored expression. He looks as if he’s some modern-day aristocrat. Maybe he was in his human life.
The moment before us hangs in suspense before we snap into action. Naomi darts forward, and I too, to stop her. With my arms locking around her waist, I swing her behind me. Knowing she’ll only try once more to reach her sister, I do the only thing I can think of; I turn and stand at the ready with Vogart’s Blade held threateningly at Naomi, leaving me exposed to the threat at my back.
There’s only a second for me to spot JJ and Wyatt. Wyatt is the only one among the two to snag a gun, while JJ angles back to be nearer to the van. Fight and flight wage war inside of me. I’m poorly positioned—we all are—which make the logistics of both fighting and fleeing a challenge. A tendril of unease winds around me when the shrubbery around us begins to rustle.
“I’m sorry,” Nova says quietly, voice cracking at the end. “I—”
“Hush,” the vampyré commands. Nova’s teeth snap together with surprising force, enough to fill the small clearing with the sound. “Good girl,” he delivers smoothly. “The sire bond is a most curious thing, don’t you agree? The will to disobey any command is nonexistent.” His lips curl into a malicious smirk.
“Bastard.” The word issues from Naomi’s mouth with a foul vengeance. She holds a rigid stance with fists clenched at her side, her bracers burning bright.
“I can assure you, madame, I am not.” I can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Your sister and I have had many enlightening conversations over the past few days. About guardians and ancient relics. About you and your friends. I assume the young woman presenting her back to me is the infamous Calliope and the lovely blade in her hand is Vogart’s.”
No one answers. I swallow down the snaking fear inside of me, keenly aware of my vulnerabilities. The blade grows heavy in my hand as the weight of everyone’s gaze falls upon it and me.
“No deal,” JJ says.
Naomi’s eyes seek her sisters in earnest, but by her look of misery, I can only imagine Nova’s eyes remain downcast. I steal myself against the current of my emotions, forcing them to the side to focus on the situation at hand.
A howl cuts through the night air, soon followed by another. Then another.
“More company,” the vampyré says dryly, “and here I thought this was a private party. Very well then,” he continues with a sigh, “Nova, kill them. Golems”—the shrubbery surrounding the clearing gives an angry shake—“kill.”
In a tidal wave, they swarm us—golems, grotesque creatures composed of old earth and rot. They stand some three feet tall and are shaped to form some beastly semblance of a man. In their possession are crude iron-wrought knifes and daggers.
We surge into action. Fighting to flee. Naomi flashes toward me, seizing one of my guns and immediately firing into the hoard to accompany Wyatt. I spin around as she steps past me, gauging the sce
ne as my heart goes into overdrive. The vampyré is nowhere to be seen, but Nova—sweet and funny Nova—is barreling toward JJ. JJ who doesn’t have a single thing to protect himself with other than his fists. With a strangled roar, Nova breaks free from her restraints, her eyes bleeding red and canines lengthening to deadly points. A bullet hits her shoulder, but it does little to stop her.
“No!” The scream pitches from my body just as a golem launches itself at me, along with three others. The blade cuts through them easily enough, but my fists do more damage with the help of the dormant Borealis Matter inside me suddenly flaring to life.
There is a firestorm occurring around me. Shots are sounding off at every moment, more than seem logical. My ears ring with shock, but there is nothing to be done about it. The fight drives me into a tunnel vision. All I can focus on are the little savages assaulting me. Their knives glance off my duster as I spirit around them. They haven’t a clue to go for my legs with no conscious thought tumbling through their empty heads. It's lucky for me that they aren’t creative with their method of killing.
They're senseless creatures, driven to obey the command of their master by dark magic. If they had any sense to them and attacked us with direction or coordination, we would be in much worse trouble. As it is, their bloodlust is enough to keep us on our toes.
“Wolves at six o’clock!” Naomi shouts. My foot plows through the chest of a golem when her alert sounds. I almost topple over as I attempt to spin myself around—the golem still lodged around my foot. With a vicious swing of my leg, it slides off and catapults into a few of the other creatures. The impact takes them out, and they crumble to the ground in heaps of black earth.
This is why we’ll win. Because we work together as a unit, taking up each other's slack and watching each other's back. The methodical order by which we eliminate the golems balances me. It keeps the darkness away with its whispers of malice and menace.
I take a short moment to scan the forest. The wolves are difficult to spot, despite the brief flashes of light from their rapid fire. They hide amongst the trees, using the thick trunks for coverage against the threat of return fire. I swing my gun in their direction, letting off a flurry of shots toward the southeast.
“Motherfu—” I rip the golem from my back onto the ground with such force it bursts immediately upon impact. My chest heaves as I step in a tight circle. The golems still surround me. It seems like no matter how many I take out, more and more take their place. The whispering darkness in my head sounds louder.
“Fall back!” Wyatt shouts.
Wyatt manages to grab one of the assault rifles when his handheld is finished, taking out half a dozen golems with his usual precision. JJ is—I stop midstep, almost falling to my knees at the sight of JJ struggling to pull himself into the van with one arm. His feet fail him as his spare hand spreads itself over the growing dark spot across his abdomen.
“JJ!”
Naomi fumbles backward, reduced to using her body as a weapon to defend against the attack. The contractions of my heart feel like an assault all their own. I can’t seem to get a grasp on my breath, and the spike of adrenaline at the sight of JJ does nothing to help. I fire the last of my rounds into the mass of unearthly creatures, but it’s clear what holds their interest now: Wyatt, Naomi, and most importantly, JJ’s blood. And more trouble is coming. Large dark figures start to bloom from all around. Wolves.
“Callie, let’s go!” Naomi shouts, swinging her fist and knocking back a golem.
But I can’t. I realize it the instant Wyatt starts firing into the hoard. There is at least a dozen golem still after us, and all of them standing between them and me. The darkness threatens to take control, my desire to destroy the golems almost blinding me to my senses. I have to be strong.
Though the gunfire from the trees ceases momentarily, I know they are closing in. The wolves. My heartbeat sounds loudly in my ear as I watch Wyatt begin to use the assault rifle as a club.
“Go!” I yell back, working at undoing my belt and dragon skin armor. “Take care of him!” Naomi scrambles into the side of the van, a flash of understanding crossing her face as I chuck the clothing off me. I run the blade over my forearm, letting it sink deeply into my flesh to draw fresh blood. “I’ll find her. Just go!”
The hoard stills as one, each taking their time to turn and face me. Their glass-like eyes almost seem to gleam with hunger. I take a tentative step back, ignoring the pain in my arm and the heavy stream of blood. If it’s blood they want. It’s blood they will get. I just hope Nova and the vampyré aren’t still lurking. The truck rumbles to life, stealing some of the golems’ attention. At least they’re out, I think, now time to fly.
I turn and race into the forest, heading straight for the wolves. It’s a daring move. A stupid move, really. They could cut me down with their bullets easily, but they could have done so before and hadn't. I have to believe they won’t now.
The golems give chase, just as I knew they would. Their hog-like grunting and hollering sounding nearby along with the beating of their stump-like legs against the ground. I can see them more clearly now, the wolves hidden amongst the trees. They press closely to the trunks, guns positioned at the ready in their hands.
“Fire!” The command comes from farther away. It spurs me on faster, along with the lurch of fear curled deep in my belly. The firestorm begins once again, bullets raining down every side of me in sharp cracks that make my ears scream. But they don't fire at me. I fight the urge not to cry in relief, knowing all too well my fight is far from done. I swerve to the west, back from where we first came, ducking around trees and letting the commotion behind me drown in the sound of my heavy breathing. I can feel my energy depleting and glance at my injured arm. That’s when I’m hit. A body slamming so strongly into my side I bash into the nearest tree and smash my head. Hard.
I slump to the ground, the wind knocked out of me completely, as my vision blurs around the edges. A hand pushes against my shoulder, sending me back against the tree trunk. My struggle is weak, pathetic really, but I do my best. It’s a stupid move, draining me of my remaining energy and propelling me into unconsciousness.
Chapter 8
Dance with the Dark Side
Failure is always a bitter pill to swallow—even more so knowing it’s your fault. And I failed. Failed Nova and her sisters. Failed my brother. Failed my family and the Wardens of Starlight. It makes me feel ill. I need more than a Hail Mary pass to turn the tide in my favor. I need a miracle. If those even exist. With my luck, the world has most likely run out of them.
Last night’s end is still fuzzy in my mind, and from the way my head aches, I assume I have a slight concussion. The cut on my arm is healed, no stitches required, though a long pink scar remains. The results of the Borealis Matter, no doubt, I think to myself. How much longer can I count on it to boost me? When exactly will the mystical power fade from my bones? Will it ever? Even now I feel some intrinsic connection to the bracers around my wrists, a certainty that we are now… one. With any luck, the Borealis Matter will continue to work its strange magic and heal the remainder of my head injury. I cannot afford the disadvantage. Not when miracles are scarce.
I assume it’s morning, which means JJ, Naomi, and Wyatt will be nearing Calgary. God, I hope JJ is all right. A stab of worry drives through my heart at the memory of his blood-soaked abdomen. He’s okay. He has to be. There are protocols for battle-time injuries. While one drives, the other stabilizes the wound. Will it have been enough? My feet take me back and forth across the cell I’ve been placed in. JJ is strong, I tell myself sternly. He will survive, and so will I.
Vogart’s Blade and my butterfly blade are absent from my person when I awoke, leaving me with only my bracers to assist me and another item on my list to take back from the wolves. As if I don’t have enough on my plate. I know I have only a few days—a week tops—to finish this job. The others will return, and the Council won’t hesitate to coordinate a counterattack. If
that happens… I shiver at the thought. If the Council comes before I can complete the job, more pressing and permanent consequences of failure will hang over me.