by Megan Morgan
“Don’t move, Lycan.” A broad, powerful hand clamped over his mouth.
Deacon struggled and tried to bring his gun up. The thing—man, Wolvite, whatever it was—dragged him to the ground.
He braced himself for the agonizing, piercing heat of claws or fangs, but instead, something struck him hard across the back of the head. His vision swam and went black.
* * * *
Lorena lurched to her feet and looked frantically around the coffee shop, as if Deacon were there and she could rush to his aid. She received a few curious glances from the other patrons. She looked out the windows, out at the street. He was so far away. Hours and hours away.
The urgency compelled her and made her act without thinking. She gathered up her things and ran to the door.
On the street, she fumbled her phone out of her purse. She scrolled through her contacts and found Deacon’s number, and called it.
The call went straight to voicemail.
She gnashed her teeth. Somewhere, far away, something was happening to him, something bad. She didn’t question why she could feel this and she didn’t care. She had to find a way to him.
She called Holden as she marched back toward the diner.
“Lorena.” He sounded cautious. “Where did you go?”
“Where are you?” She broke into a run. “Tell me you’re still at the diner.”
“I am. I was hoping you’d come back so we could go to the airport together. I didn’t mean to—”
“I need the truck!” She drew within sight of the diner. They’d parked the truck on the side street next to it. “I have to go back to Blue Ditch.”
“What? We can’t go back to Blue Ditch, we have a plane to catch.”
“Come outside and get your things!”
She hung up and raced to the truck. It felt like wires were wrapped around her, dug into her flesh and pulling at her. She couldn’t ignore the sensation if she wanted to.
She had the passenger side door open, throwing her things in the truck, when Holden appeared.
“Lorena!” He huffed as he jogged up to her. “What are you doing?”
She pulled his suitcase out and plunked it on the sidewalk.
“I have to go back to Blue Ditch.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her jacket. “This is the cab company I was going to call. They’ll get you to the airport.” She thrust the paper at him.
“You can’t just abandon me here. Why are you going back to Blue Ditch?” He took the paper.
“I have to.” She hauled his duffel bag out and set it on top his suitcase. “I’m not going to make you miss the plane, though. Go on without me.”
“What am I supposed to tell the agency? What the hell is going on?”
She checked to make sure he didn’t have anything else in the truck, then slammed the door shut. She turned to him. “I’ll talk to them, don’t worry. And I’ll get a later flight.”
“Why are you doing this? I’m sorry about what happened earlier, about what I said. You don’t have to—”
“This isn’t about that.” She hurried around the truck to the driver’s side. “I have to go back. I can’t explain right now. Go back to Chicago. I’ll call them.”
He rushed around the truck as she climbed in. He stopped her from closing the door.
“You’re acting crazy right now. Is this about that—is this about Deacon?”
She yanked at the door. “You better call a cab. You need to get to the airport.”
“Lorena!” He held fast to the door.
“I swear if you don’t let me go I will shoot you. Let go of the door!”
He scowled. “Not very professional, threatening a colleague. What’s gotten into you?”
She reached out and pushed him in the chest and made him stumble back, then slammed the door shut.
He pounded on the window as she started the engine. “This vehicle is property of the agency! I’ll report it stolen!”
She flipped him off through the window and threw the truck in drive. She took off down the street and tore toward the highway.
“I shouldn’t have left.” She slammed her hands on the steering wheel. “Why did I leave? God, Deacon. Please be okay.”
Horrible visions floated through her head, spurred by the nagging dreadful certainty that welled in her. She prayed she kept feeling it though, because if it suddenly shut off, that would be worse.
She gunned the truck toward Blue Ditch. The drive would take an interminable amount of time, even speeding as fast as she dared.
Chapter 21
Lorena made Blue Ditch in roughly three and a half hours. Good time, since she’d had to stop for gas and slow down a few times so as not to get pulled over. The gnawing in her gut simmered to a low and bearable level, so she was able to concentrate on driving, but it never fully disappeared. As she got closer to Blue Ditch, it strengthened again, not so much in intensity but clarity.
All that time on the road, tense and frantic, her mind switched to autopilot and her subconscious brought up an awful possibility.
She made a phone call when she stopped for gas. She would probably already be in trouble for ditching the flight, so she didn’t care if her hunch proved wrong and she was disciplined. She called Dr. Winston first, because he was the one most likely to believe her, and then the agency.
Now her mad dash had come to an end, but she had no idea where Deacon was.
He and his cousins could still be out in the woods, or maybe Deacon had gotten hurt and they brought him out, and taken him to a hospital. Maybe he was still out there, suffering.
She drove to Deacon’s house. Her hands were stiff and achy from clutching the wheel. Her ass had gone numb from sitting.
His truck wasn’t in the driveway. Zeke’s truck and Jack’s truck were there, though. She considered going to his parent’s house; however, that would frighten everyone.
She got out of the truck and walked up to the house. Clem barked inside. He peeked his head into the living room window and his barks changed from warning to happy.
“Hey, boy.” She tapped on the window. He whined and sniffed at the glass. “I don’t suppose you know where I can find your master?”
He pawed at the glass and whined louder.
She looked over at the door. A small town, everyone knew each other, low crime…
She tried the knob. The door was unlocked.
Clem rushed out and jumped on her. She scratched behind his ears and patted him.
“You wanna come with me? We have to find Deacon. Can you help me?”
She coaxed him to her truck and opened the passenger side door. He gazed into the cab, seeming wary. She patted the seat.
“C’mon boy, you wanna go find Deacon? Let’s find Deacon!” She’d never performed a dog-napping before.
Clem jumped up in the cab. She closed the door and ran around to the other side.
She got her gun out of her suitcase, and her clip. Clem watched her, panting and wagging his tail. She loaded the gun, set it on the seat beside her, and checked her phone. She’d kept the ringer on in case Deacon called.
“All right boy.” She started the truck. “Let’s see if you can sniff your master out in the woods. You’re a hound dog, right?”
Clem just panted as she pulled out of the driveway.
As she drove the back roads out to the valley, the dread inside her increased. She was either getting closer and the bond was stronger, or things had gotten worse on Deacon’s end.
Twilight had fallen and she didn’t know where to start. How many Wolvites were still around? How many of them could take human form?
She found the pull off. She might have missed it but for one detail—Deacon’s truck was parked in it.
She whipped her truck in behind his, nearly hyperventilating. Clem barked.
“It’s okay boy.” She patted him, trying to calm herself more than him. “We’re going to find your master.”
She had to get her head on straight. She needed
some things before she plunged into the woods.
With her gun in hand, she got out to inspect Deacon’s truck. It was empty and no one was around. Clem remained in her truck, barking. She walked up to the edge of the trees, where Deacon had shown her the valley, and stared into the distance. The vast, far, impossibly huge distance.
She walked back to her truck and got in. Clem jumped all over her and she gently pushed him away.
“We’re going to find him. Let me get what we need, buddy.”
She strapped her holster on her thigh, so she could access her gun faster. She grabbed an extra clip and shoved it in her jacket pocket. She also dug out her flashlight, and grabbed her cell phone. Maybe she should call 911, get some rescue services out there. What could she tell them, though? Her weird psychic connection with her sort-of boyfriend was flaring up and she had a hunch he was in danger?
She got back out of the truck, and let Clem follow her this time.
Clem ran to Deacon’s truck and sniffed around it. He whined at the driver’s side door and pawed at it.
“He’s in the woods, boy.” She walked over to the slope. “We have to go find him.”
Clem scampered over. He stopped and stared down the slope.
Her mind expanded and her power flashed across her skin. Maybe she could use it to her advantage and sniff him out as well.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go find Deacon.”
Clem started down the path, and she followed. Her senses sharpened as they descended into the threes. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.
“Deacon!” she called. “We’re coming to find you!”
Clem barked, calling out to his master as well. They were a team.
“Good boy.” She hurried along behind him.
* * * *
Deacon woke with a throbbing pain in his head. He lay on a cold, hard surface. Everything was black.
He tried to roll over, but his head spun and it made his stomach lurch. He felt around with his senses. A dank scent filled his nostrils and the air was downright chilly. He was in one of the caves. A little bit of light cracked the darkness, faint and distant, the far away mouth of the cave.
Something groaned beside him and he jerked away. Then his foggy head cleared and he recognized the voice behind the vocalization.
“Jack? You here?” His voice echoed.
Another groan. “Deacon? That you?”
“Yeah. Where the hell are we?”
“Don’t know.” Jack’s voice was weak and pained.
Another sound, and Deacon held his breath. Footsteps.
He reached instinctively for his gun. His fingers closed on empty air. His knife had been removed from his boot, too.
“Something’s coming,” Deacon whispered. “You still got a weapon?”
“I don’t think so.”
A nasty smell filled the air. A goddamn Wolvite. The thing wasn’t skittering or shuffling though, the sound was more like human footsteps. Deacon groped around for something—a rock, a stick, anything. If it came down to it, he would use his fists.
“Stop struggling, Lycan.” The voice came from nearby, male and disdainful. “You’re defenseless.”
Deacon made out a tall shape against the distant light. Dafydd, in his human form, it had to be. Sounded like him. Smelled like him.
“You’re not going to kill anything tonight,” the creature said. “If anything dies, it will be you.”
“What the hell?” Jack gasped. “Who’s there?”
“It’s that human Wolvite,” Deacon said. “I’m pretty damn sure.”
“You know nothing about us,” Dafydd snarled.
A spark lit up the darkness, and a moment later, the light expanded. A flame. A fire rose in a pile of wood a few feet to Deacon’s right.
Slowly, their surroundings became clearer. They were indeed inside a cave. The craggy walls were wet. Moss clung to them and hung in heavy strips from the high, rocky ceiling. Several dark tunnels led away from the chamber they occupied.
Their captor was of course the one known as Dafydd. He stood tall, his body powerfully built. His face seemed to be hewn out of the same rock as the walls. If Deacon had to fight him, it would be a difficult struggle.
“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked.
Jack was sprawled on the cave floor next to Deacon, a bloody gash across his temple. On the other side of him lay someone else, slumped on his side with his back to them.
“Zeke!” Deacon gasped.
Jack looked over. “What did you do to him?” He demanded of Dafydd. “What’s going on?”
“That’s the one that attacked me at my house,” Deacon said. “Some human projection of a Wolvite. Calls himself Dafydd.”
Dafydd lunged at him, so quick Deacon barely saw the movement. Deacon stiffened as the creature hovered over him, eyes ablaze in the firelight. The blue heart dangled around his neck. He must have taken it from Deacon’s wrist while he was out.
“Don’t speak of what you do not understand, Lycan.” His breath gusted hot and reeking across Deacon’s face. “We are human. We have always been human. We were the same once, Lycans and Wolvites. You became what you are—murderous, weak humans stuck in one form. And we became what we are, powerful and changeable.”
“Oh yeah?” Jack gritted out. “If you’re so powerful, how come we wiped your asses out a couple days ago?”
Dafydd sprung at Jack. Deacon tried to stop him, but his aching head kept him off balance. Dafydd gripped Jack’s throat and Jack stared up at him with wide eyes.
“You will pay for the things you have done to us,” Dafydd seethed. “You call us uncivilized, but you’re the ones who destroy us. You saw the burning bodies. We are not mindless animals. We mourn. We honor our dead by putting them on the fire. You have killed my brothers and sisters, my family, for far too long.”
“Dafydd,” a voice said. A woman. “Get off him. Not yet.”
Deacon struggled to focus. Firelight filled the cavern now, dancing on the walls, glittering on the moss. Mel stood before them, in her red hoodie, her hair over her shoulders.
Dafydd withdrew and went to her side.
“What the hell?” Jack clutched his throat. “Mel. What are you doing here?”
She stepped forward. Her timid, withdrawn attitude had disappeared. She held her chin up, her gaze cold and calculated. She even moved differently, with certainty and confidence.
“I knew it was a bad idea,” Deacon said. “I didn’t try to judge you, Jack. But taking up with a woman who sympathizes with Wolvites, that’s gonna end bad.”
“You stupid, brutish Lycans.” Her voice resonated, strong and sure. “You have no idea how badly this is going to end.”
“I don’t understand,” Jack said. “Mel, how could you?”
“Shut up,” she snapped. She turned to Dafydd. “Wake the other one up. I don’t want to have to explain this all twice.”
“How could you do this, Mel?” Jack cried again as Dafydd strode over to Zeke. “You knew I was a Lycan! Why the hell would you come here and marry me if you felt this way about Wolvites?”
Dafydd grabbed a clay pot from a rock shelf in the wall. He dumped the contents on Zeke’s head. Just water probably, but Deacon tensed up and clenched his fists. Zeke jerked and sputtered, and rolled onto his back with a groan.
“This isn’t just activism,” Deacon said. “How long you been running with the Wolvites, Mel?” He ached for Jack, but he also wanted to shake him. Meet a girl in the woods, bring her home, marry her after only a month—he might have just met Lorena, but he wasn’t moving her in yet.
Mel smirked at Jack. “The spell should be wearing off by now.”
Jack stared at her. Deacon’s heart sank. Zeke lifted his head and blinked blearily. He looked up at Melanie like he thought he might be dreaming, his eyes wide and glassy.
“She’s cast a love spell on you.” Deacon kicked at Jack’s foot. “You been enraptured. Goddamn it!”
Mel smiled. “I’ll
make you some coffee.” She spoke in her quiet, meek voice. “I know you like your coffee, darling.” She snapped back to her other voice. “That’s how I was giving you the potion, after all.”
“Oh God…” Jack sounded like he might be sick.
“Things make a bit of sense now.” Deacon glared at her. “I knew Jack couldn’t be this damn dumb. He’s been taken with women before, but you ain’t the stunning type, if you get my meaning.”
She stepped over and landed a swift kick to Deacon’s side. Pain blossomed under his ribs and he gritted his teeth.
“You won’t be feisty for long.” She glared at him. “Go on and get your insults out of the way, while you still have a tongue.”
“Mel.” Jack reached for her. “How could you do this?”
She scoffed at him. “You really have to ask why I’d defend them, when you’ve spent your entire life murdering them? Driving them into seclusion? Oppressing that which you don’t understand and don’t try to understand? Lycans only know how to murder. You’re the animals.”
“What’s going on?” Zeke asked weakly, and coughed. “Is this a nightmare?”
“Not yet,” Mel said. “But it will be, soon. For you.” She motioned to Dafydd. “Tie them up. We got a few hours before our friends arrive. We should let them contemplate their sins.”
“What friends?” Deacon asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Our friends and family, I should say. They’re moving, coming this way. Dafydd warned you. The retaliation for what was done here will be terrible.”
Deacon was mad, damn mad, and he snarled at her. He would get his hands around her throat for all her lies, if it was the last thing he did.
“The Wolvites here,” she said, “they’ve wanted to kill you for years. Kill the Lycans that hunt them, your family of murderers, generations of them. But you’ve always had the upper hand, haven’t you? Not anymore.”
“Mel,” Jack said. “Please, let’s talk this out. It doesn’t have to end like this.”
“You are my gift to them,” she said. “I’ve promised you to them.”
Dafydd brought over a thick spool of rope. They just had everything in these caves, apparently. The blue heart glittered on his chest and Deacon’s rage intensified.