Wrenching open the armoire, she shoved back the boxes at the base of the massive cabinet. She’d placed Ty’s gun under her most personal of clothing, her camisoles and lingerie, only weeks before. The move was executed with an eye to the future and providing protection in the face of danger. After all, only a fourth night had passed since she’d brought him home to tend. The lieutenant hadn’t regained consciousness yet, and without knowledge of why he’d been in the swamp to begin with, she considered hiding the gun the only prudent thing to do. One never knew when the weapon would be needed or against whom. Guarded toward anyone she didn’t know, the way Sonja had remained alive for the past three years had been by relying on her wits to protect her. She cared little for which side a man’s loyalty lay with – preservation had been her main goal since the death of her husband.
“I reloaded the revolver with six wooden bullets and put it right here.” Puffs of breath drifted before evaporating in the room. Tapping the bottom of the armoire, Sonja frowned. The fact she’d never had the chance to wear any of the lacey, alluring garments for Tyler after they’d become lovers briefly pricked her womanly conscious. Shoving such nonsense aside in light of the situation, she found frustration bubbling as she gazed deeper into the armoire’s base one more time. “Where is the damn gun?” Growing more vexed by the second, Sonja vowed she would annihilate each Yankee vampire as soon as the bloodsuckers arrived. “Now where was that gun?”
Ty’s words filtered back through Sonja’s memory as she stood there in front of her armoire staring at the jumbled contents. When she’d asked him why he had to go, he’d gathered her close in the very bedroom where she now stood and offered her his patented grin, which could melt her heart in a snow storm. Now, as she stood going over the words he’d used to placate her, Sonja had to gather her hands together, less she haul off and hit something.
“Tyler Loflin!” Uttering his name brought her back quickly. The anxious truth was she couldn’t understand why he’d left her at this particular time to search for Rebels held in a prisoner of war camp. She knew the situation was of dire concern to him. He’d been with those men for almost five years. Some ancient wisdom told her he wouldn’t abandon her, yet he had to try and save them. Immediate guilt washed over her. Hortence’s words came to her. “A mortal’s feelings held little consequence in the overall safety of the world.”
Reminded of the danger Ty faced, she stamped her foot on the icy floor. A low growl left her lips unbidden. She recognized the signs. Since her attack, her composure frayed easily, her desire for her mate was more primal and her senses had evolved into tools of acute awareness. Receiving the “gift” as Hortence liked to call the change had been both a curse and a miracle.
Under her feet, the boards of the bedroom vibrated and Sonja sensed the danger headed her way. The Yankees were coming! She closed her eyes, wishing the tremor was something else. In her mind’s eye, horse hoofs pounded the ground in resounding reverberation. Yankee troops on dispatch from Spotsylvania with her old enemy, Perkins in the lead. Her keen sense of hearing, also given to her as part of the gift, picked up the Yankees’ movement, though the dispatch was still miles away. She would face the enemy alone and the knowledge made her heart rise into her throat. You have to gather your wits, woman! There’s no one here to help you now. The sigh she emitted came out in a puff of smoke on the cool morning air. Alone again…
Sonja frowned agitatedly. Vampires shouldn’t move during the daylight hours, but ironically, a heavy fog had rolled in with the breaking of dawn, making for an overcast sky. Thanks to the fog, if she wanted to challenge her adversary, she too, would be limited to the shadows of the trees. Drawing the bloodsuckers into the deadly light would test her newly honed Wolfen skills. Not a small task for one so recently reborn a werewolf.
Several dozen horses moved, in unison, down the road. In her mind’s eye, Sonja recognized her old enemy – Major Perkins clearly. Two by two they rode, their horses’ hooves striking the hard packed clay of the main road. By all accounts, Perkins intended to intimidate her with their sheer numbers. Having already faced him once and sure she’d ripped the life from him, Sonja was mildly annoyed to find him hale and hardy as he headed her way. The bloody bastard simply wouldn’t die! Arrogant ass, he proved a thorn in her side even now. Perkins needed a stake through the heart as the witch, Hortence, had suggested.
Futilely, she wished for Ty once more. He would’ve understood Perkins’ plan for attack. Sonja managed a smile as she lifted her chin. He could hold his own against these bloody bastards. They’d turned into blue-bellied traitors to the Union. Being vampires hadn’t diminished their military tactical skills one iota. No, in fact, they still thirsted for victory in the form of blood. Only, this time, the blood was hers and hers alone. A small reminder of the gift’s power rippled through her. With a frozen smile, Sonja remembered the responsibility she bore as a tingling began to burn along her neck. Tiny hairs bristled as she listened to the hoofs pounding the dirt. The ever-present wolf inside Sonja surged forth. A sneer broke and played out on her lips as she emitted one low growl. Mere seconds passed before she swiped absently at the beads of perspiration along her temple. A line of perspiration trickled down the valley between her breasts as she fought to control the blood lust rising in her veins. Tamping the call of the wolf down, Sonja willed the beast to calm. She’d gain nothing if she let frustration ride rough shod over common sense. Instead, Sonja breathed deeply and drew strength from the task at hand. Her eyes gleamed gold in the meager light as she caught sight of her reflection in the bedroom’s small mirror. When the wolf was upon her, the surge of anger she battled proved an obstacle instead of an asset. To her favor, the keen vision provided by being a werewolf didn’t miss a thing. Danger rode the morning’s breeze.
Only minutes remained before Perkins’ men arrived at her doorstep. Before panic shredded what was left of her composure, she took a deep breath as she fingered the medallion around her neck.
Tyler had given her the medallion on the eve of his court martial. The deserter charges against him were false. To prove such would put both their lives in jeopardy. The truth behind his disappearance from his confederate detail had nothing to do with desertion and everything to do with love. Still such knowledge needed to remain between the two of them because Sonja had used an unorthodox elixir one the Yankee vampires would love to get their hands on – her blood – the blood of werewolves to heal Tyler.
When the Rebels had charged him with desertion and attempted to court martial her lover, Sonja had saved him once more using yet another part of her gift – the ability to shift into a werewolf. She’d surprised the Confederates, including Jeb Stewart, Major General with a valiant daytime rescue of her handsome lieutenant. Smiling to herself, Sonja remembered the feeling of being clad in only her skin and fur.
Sonja clutched the medallion in her hand and remembered Ty had promised her they’d leave as soon as he found his missing men, those captured by the Yankee vampires. Hoping he found them quickly, she remembered Hortence speaking of her gift, explaining she was the start, the beginning of a new world order, the order of the Western Werewolf. Sonja comprehended little of this information, being preoccupied as she was with surviving. She glanced out the window as the vibration of horse hooves grew stronger. “Damn you, Ty. Why’d you have to leave me like this?” she asked the empty bedroom. A small footstool garnered her abuse as Sonja kicked out. One tear trickled down her face. She glanced down the road to actually see Perkins troop growing ever closer. Her heart stopped for a second.
Turning from the window, Sonja rushed about gathering the oil lamps scattered about the cabin. Since the lamps contained coal oil, they were highly combustible and would serve the purpose she had in mind. Hopefully, Hortence’s spell would last long enough. Sonja shook her head when her thoughts strayed to the old witch. The woman came and went as she pleased. Without information like, how long one of her spells would protect Sonja and her small cottage, Hortence had
simply vanished into thin air earlier the same morning, leaving Sonja alone. Perhaps the entire thing was a test. Yes, Sonja mused as she doused the walls with coal oil. A test to prove her worth, she mused. Well, by the Gods, she’d show them!
Though irritated at the old hag’s behavior, she had to admit, she would’ve been hard pressed to fight vampires effectively without concern over the old woman’s safety had she remained.
The truth was Sonja hated the idea of what she might do when she shifted into the wolf. Never sure if she harmed an innocent or did something she would regret, while in the liken state, she would always come back to herself and seek out any and all to make sure of their well-being.
Despite the danger, the one thing Sonja never concerned herself with was her prowess as a killer. Her skill would protect her from harm. Once the wolf was upon her, she relied on her sense of right and wrong in destroying her enemies.
Sonja stepped to her front door and glanced east and west. One way in and one way out for everyone involved in their little get-together. The swamp formed her property line to the west while the hills of Spotsylvania flanked her land to the east. If she chose the path to town, she would blend and move undeterred among the humans. Yet, she couldn’t expose them to the vampires. “Among the humans…” The words sounded strange to her tongue. When had she made the delineation between herself and those she’d lived with all her life?
The answer came in clipped notes of warning - when she’d acquired “the gift. Her subconscious always seemed on high alert these days.
Tilting back her head, she sniffed, testing the air around her. The smell of death grew stronger. The stench always heralded the vampires' arrival. Soon, she’d face those who coveted the blood flowing through her veins – the blood of legend – the blood, which held the future for her kind. Werewolves would survive because of her, or so she’d been told. Hortence had emphasized the fact time and again, always instructing her in the ways of the wolf. So she was reminded of her responsibility, the one she, Sonja Brooks, held within her life on a daily basis. So if she was the future, gun or no gun with wooden bullets or not. She would dominate the day, rise to victory, and vanquish this latest insurgent of the dreaded coven.
Calmer now, Sonja’s resolve grew stronger. If she must fight the vermin, she vowed to allow them nothing of her former self as bounty. Turning from the front door, she finished dousing the cabin’s interior with the fuel. She paused when she reached the bed where she and Ty had made love only hours before, closing her eyes for a moment. The gift’s recall was excellent, complete with physical sensations to the point of torture. On a silent oath, she wheeled as the bed went up in flames. Never looking back, she stalked to the front door and out on the porch to meet her guests.
***
Emerging from the shadows of the burned off mist, a magnificent jet-black horse gave a snort as he halted shy of his rider’s legs. With a jerk of his head, as if announcing his presence, he snorted and pawed the hard packed ground. The magnificent animal pranced in place with a smooth utterance from his master.
“Mrs. Brooks, we meet again.” Perkins’ low, calm voice crept along her skin like an unwelcome sexual advance.
“Hello, Major. You’re looking good for a dead man.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on the men with Perkins. She squared her shoulders as several snickers erupted behind him. Sonja made sure she showed no reaction to their amusement other than the narrowing of her eyes on Perkins.. She wasn’t in a joking mood.
He appeared no different than he had at their last encounter. Perkins rode a dusky gray Dapple with black socks. His uniform bore the embellishment of an officer. His rank as a major in the Union Army gave him a perfect cover for his death dealings. Those not of his kind suspected nothing of his true identity as a right-hand lackey to the coven’s leader. Perkins’ jet-black hair framed his thin face with a pointed chin. His pallor was milk white with gray undertones. Coal black eyes rested soullessly in their sockets on either side of a prominent but straight nose. The cavalry hat sitting jauntily atop his head was clean and the U.S. Army insignia gleamed in brass laced by gold braid. Vampires did enjoy their dress blues.
He shifted slightly, sitting taller in the saddle and stretched to square his shoulders, probably in defense of her innuendo.
Being over six feet tall, he sat the horse admirably. Most tall, skinny chaps presented a gangly, awkward mount. Not Perkins – who, even now, ran a cool eye over Sonja.
“As you might recall, I seem to have run into a bit of difficulty during our last meeting, but I overcame your pathetic little attempt at destroying me.” With those words, he eased his ramrod posture before settled over the elbow he rested on the saddle horn as his eyes narrowed on her.
Sonja smiled at the reminder of their last encounter. She’d ripped the head and backbone from his flesh. Apparently, vampires regenerated quite well. He appeared whole and hearty to her.
The heartless major smirked. “You should realize by now, you’ll never be rid of me — or us for that matter, wolf girl.”
The sneer in his tone made her wolf want to pounce.
“You can try and we can perform the dance again and again, but you’ll lose, and in the end, I’ll have what I came for – what I’m destined to have – your blood.”
“You, sir, are delusional if you think you’ll ever defeat me or my clan. We will survive and live for all eternity long after the rotting carcasses of you and the vermin with you are but the stench of a memory.” She sniffed the air with disgust. The smell of burning wood lay heavy in the morning mist. Sonja hesitated.
With a wrinkle of her nose, she flicked a glance back as fire leapt from the window behind her. Though her heart constricted, Sonja refused to let it show. Rather, with an ease of grace, she reached out toward the flames with the pine knot in her hand. The fire licked greedily at the wooden stick before catching with an audible whoosh. With the pine knot aflame, Sonja held the torch in front of her. The flames cast a yellowish glow on the vampires seated inside the shadows of the great cypress trees flanking either side of the dirt path. Their pallor reflected in their eyes like a yellow-fever victim’s sentence shown in their stricken eyes.
Some of the vermin hissed. A couple even threw up a hand to shield themselves from the potential predator of bloodsuckers – fire!
“Fear not, men. This Liken is no different from the rest. There is no sorcery or witchcraft hidden within the folds of her skirts. Her truth isn’t cloaked in the unknown. She is a beast that walks on four legs and spreads not those legs for her mate to mount her but bears his weight atop her rump as any whore would do.”
“Lucifer’s own,” Sonja murmured. With about as much of the demon’s words as she could stand, she squared her stance and readied for battle. “Come and get it, demons!” she shouted. Stepping out into the meager light of the pale sun shrouded in veils of fog, she stood silently waiting.
Perkins flicked a glance her way. Within his eyes, there lay the answer to her challenge. They would tangle once more and she relished in the prospect.
Sonja’s grin turned wicked as she lunged for him even as Perkins met her attack with skilled lighting quick movement. So close, their breaths mingled, they grappled. His sickly stench permeated the air. The vampire managed to wrap his hands around her neck, squeezing the air from her lungs. His clothing began to smolder as the sun’s rays hit his back. Soon the smell of scorched decay filled the air. His grip eased. The breath quickly rushed back into her lungs. Sonja didn’t have much time to sound an alarm. Throwing back her head to the hazy sky, Sonja’s howl rose in the mist and floated on the damp breeze. Those bound by werewolf blood. Hopefully, the pack would heed her call and come.
Perkins thrust with a silver dagger.
She countered with a block of his forearms, thrusting upward and out. A cleansing breath and she rebased for the next thrust of his blade. Steadying her stance, fists in front of her face, as Ty had taught her, she rested lightly on the balls of her feet. The figh
ting stance, as her lover called the position, reminded her of dangling from an invisible rope operated by an unseen puppeteer. Willing the errant image to the back of her consciousness, she focused instead on thwarting the vampire’s next move. Her senses, already in tune with her surroundings, began to heighten. A tingling of sorts set up in her joints and muscles. The signs of the change began and Sonja strained to control her body as her body shifted into that of a werewolf. Hair sprang along the ridge of her backbone, claws shot out from her fingertips, which now resembled stubby paws. The pain alone of a temper born shift was excruciating and for a fleeting second, Sonja considered what Ty dealt with on a regular basis. Dropping to all fours, she shook her white mane trimmed in silver and glowered at the vermin standing before her. Fire sizzled in her eyes, the sensation a stark reminder of how fragile she was in a half state of transformation. From blazing gold eyes she surveyed her prey. Imitating a low menacing growl, she didn’t pause to ask herself if she was ready for the hatred she read in his eyes.
The vampire sprang at her with knarled fingernails splayed in attack mode. He scratched at her face aiming to blind her. Sonja with only seconds to react as the downward thrust of Perkins talons drew blood but did no major damage. Blocking in time, she managed to halt his advance. “What? You will not give me the chance to shift, bloodsucker?”
He snarled and spat near her hind legs, exposing his yellowed teeth as fangs sprang forth to hang menacingly over his lip. Twisting, he threw up a forearm to counter her return blow. Dropping low under the horse’s neck, Perkins leapt once more with ferocity. His cold, dead eyes bore into hers. Perkins tried to use what little magic he possessed to hypnotize her.
Sonja dodged the lung. “So, you’ll try your pitiful attempts at a spell, huh, Perkins? Hum, too bad.” Wheeling, she balanced on her hands and raising both legs and flung her heels squarely at his head.
Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) Page 30