by Skye Malone
“Wait!” Wes shouted.
He was too late. Henry yanked the door open.
The feeling grew worse by a hundredfold. Seeming oblivious, Knox snarled and jerked his head as if motioning the others through. Henry charged in, and behind Wes, the other bears growled as if urging him to go on.
Apprehension flooded him, and his wolf pressed at his skin, torn between the instinct to flee and the fact Lindy was there.
Lindy won.
He ran up the steps and followed Henry through the opening. An abandoned storage area waited on the other side, a black abyss of space in which the beam of his light picked out empty metal shelves against the walls and a few empty cardboard boxes and broken plastic hangers on the floor. Behind him, the bears slammed the door, sealing out the draugar.
His light landed on a door on the opposite end of the room. Lindy was there. Everything in him screamed she was there.
So was whatever the hell he was feeling.
Henry hurried toward the door, and the other bears bumped past Wes as they followed.
Wes’s head shook. “Something’s wrong.”
Henry didn’t glance back.
“Dammit, I said—”
“First one who sees her,” Henry ordered the bears, ignoring him. “You go for the girl. Bite her if you can, take her out if you have to. Got it?”
Cold shot through Wes. “What? That isn’t—”
“I’m sorry, Wes.” Henry looked regretful. “We can’t risk them controlling her.” The male pulled open the door and charged through, the bears on his heels.
Wes raced after them. A concrete space waited on the other side, and a thick pillar with cracked mirror paneling stood only a few yards ahead, blocking his view. The bears fanned out, rushing to other pillars on his right and left, moving more silently than anything their size should have been able to move. The shadows were thick, but weak light came from up ahead, diffuse and gray.
He hit the shelter of the pillar and threw a look past it immediately, scanning the enormous room, praying he hadn’t been wrong and that he got to her first.
A nightmare met his eyes.
On her knees before a platform where half a dozen Order members stood silhouetted against the daylight, Lindy was surrounded by smoke that moved like a thing alive. Shadows poured from her bare skin like water, hitting the ground and twisting out like tentacles through the room. At the far end of the platform, her brother stood, bound and gagged in the grip of two Allegiants, while at the center, a woman stood, the hood of her robe thrown back and her brown hair backlit by the weak light.
“Submit, Melinda.” Cruel satisfaction filled the woman’s voice. “Or else Franklin will.”
Oh, gods.
Wes shoved away from the pillar, tearing across the cavernous room toward Lindy. Ahead, he could see the bears charging through the shadows, aiming for her. Adrenaline poured into his muscles, fueling his ulfhednar speed.
“I love you, Frankie,” Lindy called, her voice weak. “Always remember I love you.”
Horror flooded Wes.
A bear lunged for her.
The shadows around Lindy surged like they had been supercharged by a lightning bolt. Darkness rushed out from her like a wall, slamming into Wes and all the bears alike.
His feet went out from under him as the wave of smoke ripped past him. Pain shot through his body as his shoulder crashed into the ground, the padding of his coat seeming to do nothing.
Because it wasn’t there.
His head spinning, he fumbled at his chest, finding only wet, bare skin that hurt like hell when he touched it. Confused, he flinched back and stared in horror at the blood coating his palms.
Deep gouges were torn in his flesh, tracing the paths that used to be scars. Blood poured from them, swallowing the tattoos he’d used in a vain attempt to cover the wounds.
But they’d never really be gone.
Trembling, he tried to brace himself on the ground, but the concrete seemed to give like dough, wobbling and warping beneath his feet. Cold fear sank icy claws into his chest. He couldn’t even see the room, not really. Everything was fog and smoke, and past the ringing of his ears, he could barely make out the sound of fighting beyond the mist.
And the rumble of a deep growl.
Terror turned his feet to lead weights. He knew that sound. Heard it in every nightmare, despised it each time its echo came from his mouth.
The wolf paced from the fog.
His muscles turned to water. He was eleven years old again, the scrawny boy who’d hurried home through the woods when his father couldn’t pick him up from school. He was the kid who’d run and fought and screamed, and it hadn’t mattered in the end. Yellow eyes the color of pus pinned him as firmly as skewers through a bug, so much intelligence in their gleam that even then, long before he’d known of the ulfhednar, he would have sworn they were almost human.
But nothing in them was sane.
A low growl rumbled from the wolf, drowning out the noise of fighting, becoming the only sound in the world.
Wes’s feet stumbled backward but the floor didn’t cooperate, and he fell, the gelatinous concrete snaring his hands, his wrists.
The wolf’s lips pulled back in a snarl he would swear was a grin.
In an instant, the beast was on him.
Claws tore his chest, driving him into the ground, and he screamed as teeth sank into his shoulder, ripping through muscle all the way to bone. The bite burned like acid was flooding his veins, scouring away his life and anything he might have been. Lifting its head again, the wolf stared down at him with blatant satisfaction, Wes’s blood dripping from its jaws.
And it lunged for his throat.
Tearing his hands from the concrete, Wes caught the creature before it could kill him once and for all. Shoving it back with all his might, he scrambled upright as the wolf rolled and came up ready to lunge at him again.
Gray eyes met his own, the color of the fog at the end of the world, and he knew them.
He saw them reflected back in every lake and pond when he paused after a long run.
A snarl pulled at the beast’s lips, its hackles raised.
Wes leapt at the wolf.
The creature met him halfway, slamming into him in a tangle of fur and claws, hands and teeth. Tumbling to the ground, he punched at the wolf while the beast thrashed and snapped, gnashing into his flesh and ripping at his grasp.
But he’d be damned if he lost to it this time.
Tearing at the beast with his bare hands, screams of rage and obscenities poured from his lips. This was the bastard that had taken everything. The reason he’d lost his home, fucked up though it was. The reason his parents stopped loving him, and the reason he’d had to start life over at eleven years old—except the entire concept was a joke. Because love was impossible. Because he’d met Lindy and couldn’t ever be with her for fear of destroying her too.
Now he could finally end it once and for all.
Blood soaked his hands and slicked the wolf’s fur as he and the creature rolled, biting and tearing into one another. He could feel the creature weakening, feel the way its attacks slowed with every passing heartbeat. This was it. This was where, at long last, he’d shred the beast alive.
But the man was hurting his mate, and he couldn’t lose to him now.
Confusion fractured Wes’s rage, but the wolf was still coming for him. Lindy was in danger. It had to protect her, no matter the cost.
With a shout, he thrust the wolf away. The creature tumbled across the concrete and scrambled to its feet, facing him again, teeth bared.
Wes stared. In the misty expanse, the wolf stood, its bloodied sides heaving as it watched him.
“I-I’m not—” His head shook. “I wouldn’t hurt—”
But he had.
Pain filtered through to him, coming from the wolf. A thousand moments of pushing it aside. A thousand more of shutting it away. And the creature didn’t care, not really. It was used
to the pain.
But now he was hurting her. Because she needed him to do the one thing he wouldn’t. Because he could save her, and instead, he’d sided with the old monsters who’d failed to kill him, and this time he’d let them win.
Shock took Wes’s feet from beneath him, and dumbstruck, he sank to the ground. “I… I didn’t…”
The wolf’s eyes never left him.
A shuddering breath escaped his chest. That was the truth, wasn’t it? All these years of tearing himself apart to prove he wasn’t everything his parents said when they beat him in penance to their god… and it hadn’t mattered. Deep down, he’d believed them the entire time. Sure, he’d trusted his pack, loved his friends, and shifted when necessary.
But he’d still bought the lie. Still thought the wolf—his wolf—was an abomination. Because it came into his life through violence. Because the bastard who bit him was a monster, and the wolf was something he’d never risked trying to understand.
Because he’d been a scared little kid, and somewhere inside, he’d believed them.
Every day, he’d set the wolf apart from himself. Every day, he’d fought it, beating it down and denying it was ever truly him. Because he thought it was ugly. Untrustworthy.
And all the while, he’d been hurting himself too.
Through the gray mist, the creature walked closer, wary distrust in its eyes, and it hurt to see. Who was more the monster? A wolf or someone who hurt those they claimed to love?
Wes reached out a hand, and carefully, the wolf’s snout brushed his palm. He couldn’t say if this was delusion or reality, and somewhere beyond the gray, he knew the bears were fighting to survive.
But something in his chest loosened all the same.
The wolf’s eyes met his, and for the first time in his life, Wes opened himself fully to the creature who was his own heart, and who’d never wanted anything but to be loved.
His vision cleared as the wolf merged into him like a fading dream. Shadows still roiled through the room. In a tangle of claws and fur, the bears fought one another, and blood splattered the floor around them.
And at the center, Lindy crouched, watching the destruction. One stained hand braced her on the floor while smoke poured from her skin, surging in waves of madness throughout the room. Dark tattoos like talons framed her face now, as if a monster had her in its grip. A thick band of ink wrapped her neck like a collar, and a black leash of smoke extended from it up to the hand of a woman on the stage, as if Lindy were nothing more than a dog.
His eyes never leaving her, Wes rose to his feet and let the shift roll through him, burning away his clothes and coat and every damn illusion he’d ever held. He’d been a fool, and maybe it’d cost Lindy everything. He could only pray he wasn’t too late.
Teeth bared, the monster turned, wearing the face of the woman he loved.
Wes leapt for her.
27
Lindy
In the darkness, Lindy died.
Memory slipped away. Hope and pain too. There’d never been anything beyond this moment. Only the darkness was left.
Coursing with power and the need to use it, only the darkness was still alive.
A leash ran from the neck of the darkness, first as a shimmer of air and then solidifying into a sinuous line of black smoke. The rope extended to the hand of the One, its master and source of meaning. Impulses poured down through the leash, forming the darkness’s will, its thoughts. The darkness was called the Scythe. Its purpose was to cut and rend apart all whom the One sought destroyed.
And so it did.
Beautiful madness rolled and surged through the room, twisting the minds of those who opposed the One, turning them against their corrupted allies, making them see their worst nightmares instead. Blood splattered the ground as they fought, causing saliva to well in the Scythe’s hungry mouth, and whispers came from the One, promising a feast later.
But now something was wrong.
Anger from the One made the Scythe turn.
A wolf stood behind it, and the One’s wrath curled the Scythe’s lips back in a snarl. The wolf needed to die, now, quickly. With blood and madness, rent limb from limb. Waves of shadow poured from the Scythe in immediate response, but still the wolf was coming, charging forward with teeth bared, a corrupted creature whose blood would taste like sweet wine when the Scythe devoured it whole.
Wes.
Fury poured from the One, and the Scythe faltered, confused at anger that suddenly seemed equally directed at it as much as the wolf. The One’s commands raged through the leash, and more shadows raced from the Scythe in response, waves of darkness slamming into the wolf over and over as it lunged.
To save her.
The corrupted beast slammed into the Scythe. With clawed fingers, the Scythe tore at it, ripping gashes from the wolf’s fur while all around the bears shredded each other and painted the floor red.
But the wolf didn’t fall. Didn’t stop. No matter the wounds and the blood, the creature snapped and snarled and lunged—
Until its fangs sank deep into the Scythe’s shoulder, down into muscle, down into bone, and pain erupted through the world like flames.
28
Wes
Lindy’s blood filled his mouth, and inside his mind, man and beast howled. She thrashed in his grip, clawing at him and screaming. Surges of black shadow flooded from her, buffeting him like raging waves, warping reality around the edges and filling it with cries from all he feared. His pack dying. His parents beating him. The world on fire and Lindy dead and everything that mattered to him burned to ash.
But man and wolf were united in this purpose, and they’d never lose their focus again.
Digging his teeth into her and begging her to forgive him for the pain, Wes tried to drag her backward. Smoke lashed at him, striking like scorpion stings, and a rope of black mist ran from a thick band of ink around her neck, tethering her to the woman on the platform ahead.
“Stop him!” the woman shouted, grasping the leash and hauling on it to keep him from taking Lindy. “Kill the wolf!”
The Allegiants started down from the stage, but the fighting bears tumbled past them, cutting them off. Wild and erratic, the berserkers were everywhere, some seeming to be battling only air, slashing at nothing, while others tore into their friends, rolling and biting across the floor in a rage. In a corner, Henry cowered against the wall, screaming in terror.
His heart racing, Wes’s eyes darted around. How the hell was he going to get her out of here? Draugar almost certainly remained on the stairs, and if he let her go, the woman would haul her away from him. And that didn’t even bring into it the way Lindy was thrashing around. She’d stopped hitting him now, her body flailing instead, as if she was trapped in the throes of a nightmare. But still, he couldn’t—
In his grip, Lindy suddenly convulsed as if struck by an electric shock.
A wave of shadow erupted from her, surging across the room, and all the other shadows were driven ahead of it. Like the wave of an explosion, the power slammed into the walls and windows, shattering the glass and spreading fractures through the concrete like it’d been punched by a giant. The ceiling groaned for only a heartbeat, and then the space above the platform came crashing down.
The Allegiants scrambled as an avalanche of concrete and pipes poured down, and Wes stared in horror as Frankie was lost behind the cascade.
Lindy went limp in his grasp.
Wes looked from her to the platform and back. The tether was gone, though the dark collar and tattoos remained. Cautiously, he released his bite on her shoulder.
She sagged to the ground, her white tank top stained red with blood. The wound on her shoulder was so deep, but if the change took, she’d heal and regain full use of her arm.
If she didn’t die.
He looked up, frantic. The platform was a mountain of rubble, and of the Allegiants, he could see no sign. The bears no longer fought, though they were badly hurt. Some stumbled, clearly da
zed, while Henry braced himself on the wall and staggered to his feet.
Wes barked at him, cursing the fact he couldn’t communicate clearly. But the male turned toward him and then followed the jerk of Wes’s jaw.
Horror spread through Henry’s body language. “Frankie!” The male staggered toward the destruction on the platform. “Where are you, boy?”
No response. Wes’s heart sank, dread settling over him.
“Here!” came a muffled cry from behind the debris.
Henry scrambled over a pile of concrete. A moment later, the rubble shifted.
The big male hefted Frankie over the destruction and then climbed after him. Blood stained Frankie’s ankle, and he tried to stand only to fall back with a cry of pain.
Henry put a hand to the boy’s shoulder as if to keep him from trying to move again. “Everett, you think you can carry the kid?” Henry threw a look at the bear. The berserker was seated on the ground, wavering as if he was only a heartbeat from collapse. “Oh, hell. Knox?”
The scarred bear grunted, appearing exhausted, but he walked closer, limping as he moved. Hobbling on one foot, Frankie clambered onto the bear’s back.
Wes looked down again. Lindy’s closed eyelids twitched and her body spasmed like she was having a seizure. The smoke was gone, but the jagged tattoos remained, twisting across her bare flesh and up like claws on the sides of her face.
He nudged her, but she didn’t wake, and his heart sank. Gods, how was he going to get her out of here? If Frankie was okay, the Allegiants and that bitch with the leash might still be alive too. But Wes couldn’t drag Lindy all the way down the stairs and back to the Humvee.
Footsteps crunched on the debris, and Wes’s head snapped up to find the berserkers pacing toward him.
He growled a warning, stepping past Lindy to put himself between her and the bears.
They stopped.
“Easy there,” Henry called.
Wes’s lip curled back.
Holding his hands up peaceably, the big guy walked toward him. “We need to go.”