“He wants to resurrect the druids that his people banished?” Astrid finally asked.
Santiago released a dry laugh. “Yeah, we already established that he’s not the smartest fucker.”
“This is more serious than we thought,” Eirik began slowly. “The resurrection of the druids will affect every creature on this earth. Many of our brothers and sisters were killed in the crossfire of that war. If Cronin succeeds, we’ll likely have another war on our hands.”
“And we can’t take that risk.” Astrid looked between Conall and Santiago. “You each flew here with about a dozen of your hunters. I pledge mine to support your cause.”
“And I mine,” Eirik added.
Conall nodded once. He’d expected support from the two of them, and if they ever needed his support in the future, it would be offered just as freely.
“But as I’ve said, Wentworth’s covenant is quite large and if he’s seeing to it that Cronin resurrects the druids, he’ll be bringing them out in force tomorrow night.”
“So in other words, we’re going to be outnumbered,” Santiago said dryly. He sat forward and rolled his head around, cracking a few bones in the process. “Won’t be the first time.”
Astrid speared him with a look before pulling her cell phone from her leather jacket. She hit a button and held the phone to her ear. Her lip half curled as she replied, “Close, de Luca, but not quite.”
***
New York, New York
She awoke to darkness, her body feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Her attempt to move was halted by the warm duvet into which she was wrapped. She was thirsty. Her throat felt parched, dry. Swallowing didn’t help.
A cough left her lips and she yawned, wishing she had enough strength to lift her arms above her head and stretch. Her lids felt heavy once more so she lowered them and sighed.
She was falling back into a lulling sleep when something vicious twisted in the pit of her stomach, dragging a low cry of pain from her lips. The pain left almost as suddenly as it came, and her breathing grew labored as she struggled to bring herself under control. She’d just regained some semblance of control when the pain returned, a distinct wrench at her insides that propelled tears from her eyes, and a pitiful groan from her lips.
A door opened somewhere in the distance and then a man was leaning over her. Her vision was blurred by tears; the pain in the pit of her belly intensified.
“Drink.”
His voice was urgent, compelling, and he pressed something wet to her lips. She latched onto it, swallowing in great gulps, and feeling the dryness of her throat disappear, the fire in the fit of her belly retreat. Her hand managed to find the strength to push out of the duvet and grasp the lifeline that fed her. Her eyes were closed, cheeks wet with tears, but none of that mattered but the rich, sweet liquid flowing into her mouth, down her throat, nourishing her, healing her.
A cool hand touched her cheek. That is enough, little one.
She shook her head and continued to drink. It was good, so good, and she was hungry. A few more deep swallows later, and the lifeline was forcefully removed. She fought, but it was futile against his strength.
Opening her eyes, she stared up into the beautiful face of a dark-haired stranger and smiled her thanks. He slipped his hand under her head and positioned her against the downy pillows once more. She closed her eyes.
Sleep, Drusilla.
The voice that touched her mind was soothing. Her body immediately grew warm, preparing to enter the unconscious world once more. Before sleep took her, her last thought was of the name he’d called her. Drusilla. Was that her name? A little smile touched her lips. If it was, it was a very nice name.
***
“You look pale, Lucian. Perhaps you’d like to feed before we speak,” Verenus commented, taking a seat on the plush red sofa and casting sharp eyes on Lucian.
“I am a vampire. Pale is my genetics.” His response was quick and easy as Lucian walked over to the decanter on the other side of the palatial room he called an office.
He was pale because the newest member of his coven had almost drained him, and like a fool, he’d almost let her. He’d been captivated by her mouth on his wrist, and before he knew what was happening, his heart was slowing and he was growing lethargic from blood loss. Although she’d survived the change, she would still be weak for the first month. As such, he would have to feed her with his blood during that time. “What will you have?”
“Brandy.”
“You haven’t changed since France, mon frère.” They had been friends for many centuries. Verenus had come to Lucian’s aide many times over, saving his life, his reputation, and Lucian had done the same. They could not be closer had they been born of the same female.
“Why should I? It is the nectar of the gods.”
“So you say.”
Lucian handed him a glass filled with the liquid before leaning against his desk and waiting.
“You won’t drink with me?”
“My drink of choice is not yet ready.” Verenus flashed him a knowing look before taking a sip of his brandy. Not seconds later, a knock sounded and a female vampire sauntered in holding a glass filled to the brim with red liquid. She handed it to Lucian with a slight dip of her head before retreating.
Passing a look to his friend, he lifted it. “The true nectar of the gods.”
As soon as the glass touched his lips, he tipped it back and quickly drank the warm liquid. Fresh human blood. While vampires required the blood of their own kind to survive, there was something uniquely delicious about the blood of a human with no drugs or alcohol in her system. While it wasn’t something to be indulged frequently—it wasn’t potent enough to keep an ancient vampire filled—it was very tasty.
“Your color is returning,” Verenus chimed drolly from his seat.
Placing the empty glass on the table, Lucian crossed his arms and surveyed Verenus with narrowed eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Verenus? In the age of technology, no one ever visits unless it’s something drastic.”
A little grimace touched Verenus’s lips and he nodded once. “The Council has been disbanded.”
Lucian arched a brow. “Do we know why?” He was surprised it had taken so many years for it to happen. The Council meetings had become less productive over the years and more of a place for different races to vent against each other.
“Not from Agar, and Keitaro has heard nothing. I received a call from Malachi today.” Malachi Edelson was a vampire coven leader on the British Council. “He says there is an influx of witches in London right now. In his words, they’re swarming the city.”
“Does he know why?”
“No, but he did say that while the witches are swarming, the werewolves aren’t far behind.”
Eyes narrowing, Lucian asked, “Athelwulf and Cronin?”
“It’s possible.”
“Over the two witch sisters?”
Verenus shrugged his shoulders and tossed back the brandy in the glass. “Another possibility. Malachi has alerted the other clans and they are watching them.”
“How interesting that they would leave for London, presumably with the two sisters.”
Standing, Verenus replied, “I thought so as well.”
“I’ll call Athelwulf.”
“I did that already. I was informed by Sloan that he was indisposed.”
Lucian frowned. “Indisposed?”
“Yes. I took it to mean out of the country.”
When Lucian simply arched a brow, Verenus continued, “Like you, I wondered why. Since no answer is immediately available, I started guessing. I believe it has something to do with the two witches, and whatever it is, it’s much bigger than Cronin and Athelwulf. Especially if Malachi is reporting the number of witches tripled within the course of a day, and the wolves weren’t far behind.”
“What are you proposing?”
Verenus’s eyes locked on his. “I think it’s time for my vacation, so I�
��ll be leaving for London within the hour.”
Lucian smirked. “Vacation?”
“Yes. Even vampires need them. I don’t know how long I’ll be there.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep watch on your coven.”
“Good. I already discussed this with Keitaro, so between the two of you, I expect nothing serious will happen when I’m gone.” He stood. “I’ll inform you when I find out what is going on over there.”
Verenus headed for the door. “And Lucian?” He looked over his shoulder at the door to the left of Lucian’s desk. It led to a hallway, which in turn led to the private bedroom where he kept Drusilla. “You may want to take your recently changed human to one of your country estates. While the members of your coven may not be able to, I can still smell residual traces of humanity in her, and if Keitaro was here, I’m sure he’d smell it, too.”
***
England
Vivienne must have fallen asleep at some point because when she next opened her eyes, Cronin stood directly before her with an expectant look on his face.
“Recite it.”
Without bothering to put up a fight, she did as he said.
“Very good.” He clapped his hands and a tracker stepped in with a tray overrun with food. “Eat. You’ll need your strength for tonight.”
He left soon after, and she sniffed at the food, trying to pinpoint anything that smelled like a drug, or poison. She was hungry. Her only relief came in knowing he wouldn’t kill her just yet. She was still needed.
Lifting the toast to her lips, she took a bite. After that, she couldn’t stop. She ate everything. The three slices of toast, the jam, the peanut butter, the eggs, and the fruit slices. And of course, she drank the cup of tea served with it.
Belly filled, she thought of Conall. There was a chance she wouldn’t see him again. If Maximilian’s plan went his way, and she would do everything possible to make sure it didn’t, there was no doubt in her mind he would attempt to kill her. Lying back on the bed, she closed her eyes and thought of her mate. She saw him standing before her right before he’d shown her his wolf, a devilish smile on his handsome face. She tried their connection once more, and wasn’t surprised when it failed. Conall Athelwulf, her mate. She would give anything to have him hold her, kiss her, touch her just once more, before….
She dragged a hand over her face and shook her head. Thoughts like those were best kept for when hope had failed. As long as she still breathed, there was hope.
***
The sun was setting, the burnt orange rays retreating slowly from her cell, when they came for her.
Cassandre’s heart beat furiously as she allowed the trackers to escort her from the place that had become her prison. Maximilian Cronin was nowhere in sight, but she knew she would see him soon. She was escorted to a black Jeep with tinted windows. It didn’t surprise her that two Jeeps of similar makes flanked the one into which she was put. Two female trackers sat on either side of her while two more sat in the front. She almost scoffed at her entourage.
It wasn’t as if she could escape even one of them, with her powers suppressed by these chains. Had the situation been different, Cassie would have smiled to think she were important enough to command an escort. But she was a prisoner about to change the course of history by resurrecting a people who were perhaps rightly banished. Even as she remembered Alexander’s “memories,” she knew they could have been staged. She wouldn’t put it past him.
Tears threatened when she thought of how selfish she was being. Even if the druids were a wicked people, she would resurrect them if it meant her family would be safe. And Cronin knew that. He exploited that fact by showing her the battered but alive body of her mother, explaining that she would see her sister when they arrived at Stonehenge. She shook her head and clenched her lids to stop the flow of tears, forcing herself to relax.
She had no plan, no nothing. Even without the chains, she didn’t think her powers were that strong. She blinked once, twice, and felt her lids grow heavy. When she opened them again, the ghostly woman with the long, flowing black hair and green eyes was standing before her again. Her eyes widened, but the woman only smiled. There was something familiar about that smile.
Help us, Cassandre. Break the curse that binds us, and you have my word that our people will seek no retaliation.
Who are you? Cassie asked, both frightened and intrigued by the woman. It was obvious she was a druid, but as the druids were all banished, except for Alexander at least, it seemed an anomaly that another druid could access her, even in sleep.
They called me Nicolette before…. The ghostly apparition smiled sadly and closed her eyes. Our people are not the murders and slayers that we are made out to be. We embrace our family above all else. Do not fear us, Cassandre. There is nothing to fear.
Not one to trust apparitions easily, Cassandre wondered if Alexander was somehow making her appear.
The black-haired woman shook her head immediately. Do not blame Alexander, Cassandre. My time is limited, else I would explain everything to you. Follow your instincts, my child, for they will never lie to you.
There was a jerk and she blinked her eyes open to find one of the trackers staring down at her. The witch had a curious expression on her face, but she only said, “We’re here.”
Cassie looked out the tinted windows. Even in the dark, and from the far distance, she could make out the large boulders that stood in the center of the field. She could also make out the scattering of what she assumed to be witches standing before the monument. They were at Stonehenge.
Chapter Eighteen
Conall resisted the urge to growl as a Jeep with tinted windows pulled over beside the road just a mile away from Stonehenge, and Vivienne emerged. She was surrounded by four trackers. He barely had time to recognize her from his upwind distance away from the large stones when she and the trackers disappeared, only to reappear the midst of the grand wizards standing inside of the Trilithion stones. Cassie had arrived almost ten minutes before, and was standing behind one of the large boulders, making it impossible for Conall to get a clear view of her. He did have a clear one of his mate, and while she looked tired, he didn’t detect injury. She was wrapped in a golden chain that bound her hands, crossed at her waist, and dipped lower to bind her feet. Cassie had been wearing something similar.
“There has to be meaning behind those chains. They’re both wearing the same kind,” Raoul said softly from beside him.
Conall barely passed a glance to his beta but nodded, keeping his focus on his mate. A plan was in progress.
After finding out Cronin and other grand wizards had formed an alliance to resurrect the druids, Astrid and Eirik had placed calls to various pack alphas in the United Kingdom. The situation had been explained, and not an hour after the first call, the pack alphas began arriving at Eirik’s townhouse. Over the course of the day, others filed in with their packs in tow, until a total of seven pack alphas, in addition to Astrid and Eirik, pledged their packs to his cause. Conall sensed most had not done so out of any loyalty to him or to their race, but because they feared the unknown, and that was what the druids represented.
They’d gathered a few miles away from the grounds, most in wolf form except for a few of the alphas. Conall didn’t intend to wait for any type of resurrection ceremony to begin. As soon as they spotted Evelyn and Cronin made an appearance, he was giving the order to attack. They had the element of surprise on their side, and while it would be a bloody fight, he was anticipating it.
“It probably binds their powers,” Conall replied in answer to Raoul’s unspoken question. If that was the purpose of the chains, then it would explain why both sisters appeared so docile among the witches, and why his connection to Vivienne was severed.
He lifted his head slightly, listening for sounds that would tell of the large number of werewolves lurking in shadows, behind the sparse but useful cluster of trees. The wind whipped fiercely, making it difficult for him to hear the
m, and therefore impossible for the witches.
“There she is.” Raoul inclined his head.
Conall looked in the direction and saw Evelyn emerge. She was being held up by two trackers, and as he peered closer, he noticed a distinct limp, and the way she could barely pick her head up. A low growl started in his chest, but he stopped it, pacifying himself with the thought that this night would be Cronin’s last.
“Should I give the order?”
He shook his head. “Cronin isn’t here.”
Exactly as he spoke, a bright light flashed and a portal began to open. Conall watched as Cronin stepped through with just over a dozen witches. They all radiated power, speaking to their elevated statuses as grand wizards of their covenants, and wore long black robes with black hoods that covered most of their faces. Cronin hadn’t bothered with the hood, but even if he had, Conall would have been able to track him. He had his scent.
When the portal closed, the grand wizards fanned out, each teleporting before a single stone until they formed a circle. Cronin moved in the midst of them, and opened his palm against the ground as he chanted. As the ground caved in the shape of a pentagram, he moved back and lifted a hand to beckon someone forth. Cassie.
Conall had seen enough. He didn’t take his eyes of Cronin as he said, “Give the order.” The change came upon him, his limbs and bones rearranging themselves into the black wolf who eagerly came forth. Raoul changed quickly, and Conall turned to his beta to give one last command.
No matter what happens, get Vivienne and her family out of here.
The blond wolf dipped his head, and Conall turned slightly to look into the darkness, where the other wolves were. Dozens of pairs of eyes, various shades of bright, stared back at him.
He turned back to the ceremony occurring miles away from them. Their speed would allow them to get there in seconds. A snarl left his lips as he began running. Welcoming the coolness of the wind as it whipped by him, his ears flattened. The trackers didn’t see them until the they were closing in, and their cries of alarm were met with cries of pain as Conall’s pack descended first, followed by Astrid’s and Eirik’s, and the continuous onslaught of wolves protecting their future interests.
Taken by Moonlight Page 42