by Kim Faulks
I flinched and shifted my focus toward the child’s excitement. Abrial stared at the icicle in my grasp, and then licked her lips. Her green eyes sparkled as they found mine, but there was no excitement in her eyes…there was only fear. “Less dangerous, huh? Tell me Victor, if you can do that to ease a child’s thirst, what could you do if someone really pissed you off?”
The smile on my lips lingered for a second, until Odessa’s bloodied face filled my mind. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling before this is through I’ll find out.”
I yanked open my fingers, shattering the ice from its hold on my skin. The towering ice wobbled as I handed it to the little shifter. The child opened and closed her hands, grabbing at the air as the long shard glinted in the sun. “Now, don’t lick it until the ice starts to melt. I don’t want you sticking your tongue to the side, okay?”
The white icicle turned clear and slowly wept. She attacked the ice with greedy slurps. But the magic for me was now lost, hidden underneath the tsunami of pain of how this little one had suffered. I shoved my palm against the ground and stood. “That should entertain her for a while at least.”
Tiny slurps stayed with me as I skirted the two wolves. I strode alongside the putrid pens and headed for the small wooden cabin. Two broken chairs lay discarded on the verandah. A memory crept toward me, slowly at first.
I’d visited this place once while walking.
A young couple lived here. Newlyweds. Although, looking at the faded fabric and the worn knotted wood on the chairs, this was some time ago. I searched the mountain for a break in the trees. From up there, these humans had looked happy and content—so where were they now?
I stepped onto the verandah and shoved the wooden door. The hinges groaned in protest as the sun spilled across the dusty floor, casting shadows aside. I took a step and felt the chill. There was no heart, no soul—no life here. There were only four wooden walls and a hole bigger than they could contain. I shuffled backward, retracing my steps. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be anywhere that felt like I did inside.
I walked along the verandah and stepped off the side. Deserted was how this place felt, deserted and damaged. The open stall doors invited me to take a step inside. I forced my feet to move, tracking the sharp scent of fear and blood.
I gripped cold metal handles as the salty odor grew stronger. Faint traces of perfume—sweet, spicy…and not wolf.
Women and children are being sold to demons for sport, and now humans to vampires for blood farms. The Guardians used to protect the weak. You used to be terrifying, something to be feared—even in name alone. You used to be the mighty Bloodletter. Tell me Marcus, what happened?
The old woman’s words hit me like a slap. Humans sold to vampires…my stomach tightened with the thought. A human woman had been here. But why now? Why after all this time?
I left the choking stench of human blood behind and walked over to where Bastian and Michael waited beside the barn. The demon’s blade left a lasting mark on my skin; the edges ached. Michael took one look at the slice on my chest and winced.
“We’ll find something, Victor.” Bastian neared, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “We’ll keep looking until we do. Zadoc’s a tough bastard, he’ll be okay.”
I stared at the ground and nodded. I couldn’t look at them, couldn’t see the fear in their eyes. I turned my head at the sound of Abrial’s voice. She stood, clutching the little wolf against her leg. “They won’t hurt him. They need him.”
Bastian’s hand fell away. “Need him? Why would they need Zadoc?”
I turned my head to meet his gaze. “Why would they need to take any of us? It’s obvious isn’t it? Our brother for the two wolves.”
His amber eyes widened. One slow shake of his head softened my heart. My poor Piscean brother, always ready to find the silver lining, until there wasn’t one.
I watched the sparkle in his eyes dull as he shut down. I stilled the tremor in my belly. “I won’t let that happen—not to you, or to Marcus. You believe me, right?”
Silence answered.
“I’ve never let you down, have I? Any of you?”
The small, pitiful smile almost looked real as Bastian shook his head. “No, you haven’t.”
My words tasted like ashes. “So I’m not about to start now.”
A hard wind shook the pines, drawing my focus to the grass. A small track divided the center, parting the whip grass. I gave my brothers one last look. “I’ll figure something out. There has to be something here to tell us where they’re headed. We’ll find it.”
I left my brothers there, drawn by a whisper on the wind.
A whisper of two words.
Abandoned…forgotten.
Scattered coals from a fire and blackened boot prints covered the entrance to the overgrown path. I followed the trail winding around a clump of thick spruce until a small cabin came into view.
I turned, glancing over my shoulder. I’d not noticed this little hut before. Hidden from both the cabin and the mountains, it was overgrown by ivy and conifers. I glanced through the dusty windows, and then stepped up to the open door. A shadow moved inside. I lifted my gaze searching for another track. Anyone could cut through the trees, if they knew this was here. Only one person came to mind.
“Xael, is that you?”
My finger sank into the splintered wood as I edged my boot through the doorway. There was something about this place, hunkered in the dark, hidden, like some dirty little secret. I took a step inside and stared through the open room to the kitchen. Red and white plaid hung from the windows at the back, matching the towels draped over the spotless sink.
I moved deeper into the shadows to a threadbare lilac curtain that divided the room. Someone cleaned this place, loved it, called it home. I drew back the fabric to stare at the scorched walls, and inhaled the biting smell of raw power.
Heavy chains hung from the headboard of a double bed. Inch thick bolts were twisted and gnarled. The mattress was shredded, claw marks gouged through the fabric to the wooden slats underneath. “Jesus. What kind of sick—”
“He liked pain.”
I jumped at her voice and spun. Rowen stared at the inside of the room from the doorway, and then turned her bruised and battered face to me.
Her focus never wavered, piercing me with those washed-out green eyes as she continued. “Said it made him feel like a man.”
The urge to touch her, to hold her—and protect her—ripped through me like a frigid wind. “And how did it make you feel?”
Her black eye flinched. Her busted, weeping lips parted. And for a second I wanted to bring him back to life, and kill the pathetic excuse for a man once more.
Sol doesn’t set traps. He just takes what he wants and leaves the unwanted behind.
Rowen’s words surfaced, hacking through my own thoughts, and as the dark mage stared at me, I finally understood.
“You know Sol’s dead, right? Marcus killed him, you were there, you saw it.”
Rowen’s breath stilled. She was a statue made of flesh until she finally spoke. “You think if a body dies, so does a soul? If you do, you truly are dead, Guardian. Evil like Sol doesn’t disappear. It sits there, festering like mold, spreading like a disease. Evil consumes, until all that’s left is an empty void big enough for Hell itself to slip through.”
Her focus slipped behind me to the bedroom. “He’s out there. He’s coming for me…and now, he’ll come for you too. But don’t think he’ll come alone. He’s got the vampires and the demons on his side and twelve dying dragons won’t stand a chance against an army of the wretched.”
Deep growls from my dragon filled me, rippling out until the sound turned into the heavy guffaws of laughter.
I flinched. The sonofabitch was taunting me.
Rowen’s swollen lips contorted in a sneer. “Odessa’s not the person you think she is.”
The dragon’s sniggers faded. “She almost died saving my damn life.”
Rowen’s s
mirk turned cold, leaving the emptiness in her eyes. “Yes, she did. And I’ve been asking myself why ever since.”
Her words filled me, finding every dark, weak corner of my mind, for the truth was… I’d been asking myself the same damn question.
The heavy thud of boots dragged me from her words. The shadow filled the doorway. Michael panted. His wide eyes held me for a second as he gasped. “Victor, we found something…you’d better come.”
I dropped the lilac curtain and took a step. “What is it?”
“Trouble.” Michael answered. “A lot of fucking trouble.”
“Car 214. Can you hear me, Sheriff?”
A woman’s voice crackled over the radio. I stepped away from the brown Crown Victoria and shook my head. “How long have they been calling?”
Michael swiped wispy brown hair from his eyes and answered. “Ever since we found it.”
“Then we’re fucked.”
I cut my gaze toward my sister and winced. “We don’t know that for sure.”
Her top lip curled to a sneer, black hair shimmered like an oil slick in the sun as she pivoted and swung her hand toward the mountain. “How can you think we’re getting out of this mess? The sheriff’s body is less than a mile from our fucking back door—headless, I might add. We can’t say, ‘oops, here you go, he was a sick sonofabitch anyway,’ and give the cocksucker back to them. So, we’re fucked.”
I stared at the five-pointed star. Keeping Nyx County Safe since 1850. The sheriff shouldn’t have been there. We shouldn’t have been there. This wasn’t our war to fight and yet here we were in the middle of this damn mess. “It was self-defense.”
“They won’t care,” Xael snarled. “They’ll find out what we are. The whole world will know what we are. It’ll be just like last time.”
“No, it won’t.” Marcus stopped beside me. “The world is different now, we’re different now. I won’t let that happen to us, not again.”
“You don’t have to fix everything, Marcus,” North snapped.
I turned my gaze from the motto of the car to the pain in North’s eyes. He glanced to me, then back to the eldest of our line. “This isn’t all on you. We’re a family, we’re in this together, remember?”
Marcus grabbed the back of his neck and rubbed. “I know that, but right now I’m the strongest, at least until everyone can…until everyone is healed. I’ll move the car. I can fly. I’m strong enough to tow the car where no one will find it.”
“No.” Isaiah shook his head. “It’s too late. These things are fitted with GPS trackers. They’re probably on their way here now.”
Marcus turned his head, piercing me with a stare. “Then I’ll burn it. They can’t find what doesn’t exist.”
The squelch of the radio filled the silence. “Car 214. Morse, can you hear me? We’ve got men on the way to your location. Hang tight, Sheriff, we’re coming. Morse? Morse, can you hear me? Morse, say something if you can hear me.”
Isaiah reached up and clenched his blond hair into his fist. “That’ll look kind of suspicious, don’t you think? It’s too late, Marcus.”
The growl of an engine slipped through the trees. The echo rolled like thunder. They were close—too close. I searched the trees and muttered. “I guess the decision’s been made for us.”
Marcus turned toward me. “Take the others and head back to the house. I’ll stay and keep them occupied. Maybe they won’t look any further, maybe they won’t…”
I shook my head. “I’m staying.”
The muscle of his jaw bulged. He always clenched his jaw when he was pissed. “If they arrest anyone, don’t you think it’s better to arrest one of us, than all of us?”
Xael threw her hands in the air. The sting was in her words as she turned those yellow and black arachnid eyes on me. “We don’t have time for a pissing contest. This isn’t about either of you. Zadoc’s out there, alone. He’s the only one we should be thinking of.”
Marcus took a step, placing his hand on Xael’s shoulder. “He’s going to be okay. Listen to me. They’re not going to hurt him, not while they can use him to bargain with.”
I caught a shimmer in my sister’s eye before she turned her head away from us and swiped her cheek with the back of her hand, then cut her gaze to him once more. “Just bring him back, Marcus. I don’t care how you do it; just find him.”
“I will, I promise. I’ll find him.”
Rowen cleared her throat and held Marcus’s gaze. “I can get him back. If we can use Odessa to open the portal I can track him.”
I opened my mouth, but Orlando beat me to it. “Open the portal…what does that mean, exactly? You mean she has to die, don’t you? I mean, that’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but she’ll come back.”
There wasn’t a tremor—nothing but a cold, clinical assessment. I shook my head, “How do you know that? Ten minutes is a long time to be dead, and we’ll only have the witch to resurrect her—that’s if she can. I say no, we don’t do it, not until we know more.”
“She’ll come back,” Rowen snapped, never once turning to look me in the eye.
I strode forward. “How do you fucking know!”
Rowen never flinched under the Bloodletter’s terrifying gaze. “Because she’s done it before. She’s died and come back before. I only need a few minutes—ten on the outside to force her into the demon world. It’s a small price to pay, isn’t it?” She lifted her palms to the sky. “Odessa, or your brother. You choose.”
North rounded the front of the Crown Vic as the engine in the distance grew louder. I heard the gunning of the engine. Whoever was coming for us was hungry for flesh or blood, or both. Humans were coming, they’d hunt us down—force us out into the open—but in the end they would fear us. It happened before, and it would happen again.
But that all seemed to pale with the problems I faced right now. I was losing the one person I needed—Marcus. I sucked in the crisp, pine-scented air and tried to keep the tremble from my voice. “We stay together, Marcus, okay? No one makes any decisions, not until we discuss it—all of us. It’s not just our lives we’re dealing with. You made the decision to bring this war to our doorstep on your own. I can respect that. So I’m asking you to respect that we all make the decisions moving forward.”
Marcus flinched. My words hurt. He turned to Abrial, then the rest of the family, finally settling on me. “I can do that. But Xael is right. Zadoc has to come first.”
The touch of an unseen finger sent shivers along my spine. Behind Marcus, Rowen watched me like a predator. Those washed-out green eyes were filled with suspicion and hate. I held onto her hate, letting it fill me, until the child drew my gaze.
The little shifter gripped Abrial’s leg, moving with the wolf as she closed ranks to stand next to Marcus. The brush of Abrial’s fingers along my brother’s back was more than comfort. It was of protection, and loyalty—not just for her—but for him, and I suddenly realized that all the talking was pointless. Marcus turned to stare at the wolf beside him. His tortured gaze softened to something needing, something wanting, and I knew in that moment, the balance in my family had changed.
Marcus had always taken the head of our family. He was the leader. He was the father we never had. Now he was more than that. He was part of a pack—a pack of wolves and not dragons. Something happened to him that night he crashed his car into a tree to save this wolf—something I wasn’t part of—something none of us were part of.
His alliance had shifted, and our brother, Marcus, had changed.
I never saw the fist, but I stumbled under the blow. Our family had become every man for himself, especially where the wolves were concerned.
But what about the one person who suffered most of all. What about Odessa?
Where was their loyalty to her?
I turned at the snarl of the engine and crunch of gravel. The Ford Bronco bucked and kicked, ploughing through a small clump of saplings at the edge of the track, t
o stop in a cloud of dust.
For a second there was nothing. I stared at the vehicle feet from where we stood and tried to envision a way out of this. Run, Marcus’s command still lingered. I scanned the trees, there was still time.
“Get your hands in the air. Hands! Let me see them!” The male voice cracked through the speakers.
I raised my hands into the air and squinted, trying to find the man through the plume of dust. The driver’s door opened.
“I’m armed and I will shoot! Hands in the air. Now!”
“Just play it cool. No one does anything stupid, okay Marcus?” North muttered.
From out of the dust, the male officer took a step, rounding the open door to stand next to the hood. The barrel of his gun swung across us, stopping at Marcus.
Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but I didn’t have to see them to work out what he stared at. The radio of the Sheriff’s cruiser squawked behind me. “Sheriff Morse, if you’re hearing this, please pick up the hand piece. We’ve got cars on the way to your location. Hang tight, Sheriff, we’re on our way.”
The radio hooked to the officer’s belt echoed the same call. I scanned the khaki uniform, lingering on the nametag. Deputy Goulding looked young, too young to be playing cops and robbers, and far too young to be thrashing through the bush on his way to a potential murder scene, alone.
A nerve near my lips twitched. Alone. What the hell was he doing here by himself? Officer Goulding grabbed the hand-piece and spoke. “Marg, I found his car, but I can’t see him anywhere. Let me take a closer look and get back to you.”
“Goulding, is that you? You were ordered to stand down and wait,” the female muttered. Her voice turned to a hiss, heavy breathing drowned out everything else as she moved the mic close. “Busby’s gonna have your ass for this. I can’t keep covering for you, dammit.”
Goulding shifted those dark glasses to Marcus and lifted the mic once more. “I know. It’s okay, Marg. I appreciate everything you’ve done. I’ll let you know if I find anything out here. Tell the boys it’s a rough drive.”
The young deputy clipped the mic to his lapel and fumbled with the radio. Marg’s voice dulled from his hip, leaving her to blare through the cruiser’s open window behind us.