She didn’t, hadn’t since the incident on the lawn. She concentrated, tried to hear anything, but it was terrifyingly quiet. If Rifter hadn’t been here with her…
Suddenly, she heard Rifter’s muffled curse and realized they were moving. It was like the first night she’d met Rifter—more like floating than actual walking, but they were outside and then they were someplace she didn’t recognize.
She smelled blood—and fear—and there was confusion. She was behind Rifter but she was seeing the scene like she was living it. Like she should know where she was.
It took her a moment, but she did.
Battlefield. Rifter’s pack. The slaughter. She was terrified, especially when she fell to the ground next to Rifter and a shadow passed over her. He held her hand tightly and they began to float up among other spirits.
“Don’t let go,” she told Rifter. He tightened his grip.
Thankfully, the spirits rose ahead of them while she remained somewhat firmly rooted on the ground with Rifter. But they were walking—not back to the warm, comfortable bed. No, they moved forward from the battlefield to inside—a hot, stifling place.
The walls—they dripped—blood, maybe? She didn’t want to think about it—she was already light-headed and warm, like she had a fever that wouldn’t break.
“Don’t touch anything. Only make eye contact with me,” Rifter warned, and she kept her eyes pinned to his back.
It was almost as if her feet weren’t touching the floor, not completely, anyway. She was far more out of it in this dream than in the others. And yet everything was somehow much more real in this one, which made it horrifying.
“I want to turn back,” she said.
“Me too. But I can’t.” They were both being propelled forward by an invisible force. What waited on the other side of that doorway was anyone’s guess.
“Let go of my hand and wake up,” she begged him. “You’re being pulled because of me.”
He didn’t deny it, but he held fast to her hand as they reached a long corridor with what seemed like a million doors on each side. The hallway got smaller and smaller until she could only walk behind Rifter, not next to him.
He didn’t let go of her hand once, though. Finally, he stopped at a door and paused, then opened it with a strong kick, slamming it and cracking the frame. She jumped and followed him into the room, which was so dark…
And they weren’t alone. She squeezed his hand and he turned to her. “I’ve never been able to get this far on my own. I’m sorry—I don’t mean to scare you… but we’re close to Rogue—I can feel it. And it’s going to get ugly.”
“I’d rather be scared with you than alone and terrified,” she said, and meant it, but when she heard the unearthly shrieking begin, she backed up and refused to go any farther.
She didn’t ask any more questions, not when the heat hit her, followed by the screams. They were hollow sounding, mournful. They climbed into her soul and clung there, and she felt like she’d never, ever forget the sound, no matter how old she lived to be. “Is this where his mind is all the time?”
“I think so. I never knew if he was keeping me out or if I wasn’t strong enough to get to him.”
But with her, he was. She supposed this wasn’t the time for the hows and whys, and so she forced herself to breathe, asked, “How can he stand this?”
“He hasn’t had a choice.”
It had to be hell—or a close facsimile. There were sharp rocks under her bare feet and she was sure she was bleeding, but she stayed close to Rifter as they moved into the complete blackness.
Flames licked the walls. She heard chanting but couldn’t see the source.
And then she felt Rifter stiffen.
Rogue looked like Jinx except his hair was dark, like Rifter’s. Rifter reached out and turned Rogue’s head toward them, and she saw that the entire left side of his face was covered in a tribal glyph pattern.
From the way Rifter touched it with a shaking hand, she guessed it hadn’t been there before. But Rogue’s arms and chest were marked with black and red symbols that she couldn’t interpret and Rifter didn’t look surprised to see those. “This one,” he pointed to Rogue’s face. “New markings.”
“And the rest of them?”
“They come and go—he calls them protection,” he said. The ones on Rogue’s face didn’t look anything like the others. His voice was hoarse when he cursed, “Goddamn it,” quietly.
At that, Rogue opened his eyes. “Not smart to use that name down here, you know? And who’s the human… whoa. What the hell’s going on upstairs?”
Rogue was in hell, and it wasn’t one of his own making. It was worse than being locked up in the weretrapper jail, and Rifter had to force himself forward. He wished he didn’t have to take Gwen with him.
But to leave her behind… she was terrified. He wouldn’t make things worse since she obviously couldn’t see the mare sitting on Rogue’s chest, keeping him in a constant state of sleep paralysis.
The mare was like a succubus, and now it all made sense. There was no way to move her without killing the person who’d cast the original spell. It was probably Seb, and killing the witch could prove to be next to impossible. The mare kept her eyes focused on Rogue, not turning her head at all toward Rifter or Gwen. And when Rogue stared at him, there was a silent “we won’t mention this part to Gwen” message sent between them.
“This is Gwen—she’s Harm’s daughter.”
Rogue lay on a bed similar to the one at the Dire mansion, but this was ringed with silver, rendering him immobile. He blinked and looked up at Rifter. His voice was hoarse, familiar. “Lookin’ like a king,” he said, with a glance toward Gwen. “Sorry I can’t greet you properly.”
She moved forward, touched his forehead. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m used to it.” His voice was rough, but it was the first contact he’d had in the six months since he’d been rescued from the weretrappers and brought back to the house unconscious, and Rifter knew he liked it.
Still, “I don’t want you to be used to this shit.” He took a deep breath, needed to remember why he was called here. “I need to ask you about something.”
“The Dire spirit army? I’m not the conduit,” Rogue confirmed. “But they know I can stop it.”
“Is this Seb’s spell?”
“Yes. You know how you can fix it.”
That would be the hardest thing he could do—and not only because of his history with the man. The witch was immortal and no doubt guarded by black magic. “What about the Dire spirit army—how is he doing that? Can Jinx do anything to stop it?”
“Technically, the Dires aren’t ghosts—they’ve passed already and been brought back, which is why he can see them, so no, that’s my department. Seb’s bringing them back and keeping them in hell,” Rogue explained. “After enough time here, you’ll agree to anything.”
“What did you agree to?” Rifter demanded, but Rogue just stared up toward the heavens and said, “She’s not going to wake up without help. The Elders refuse.”
Gwen stiffened beside Rifter and Rogue. Although she’d suspected as much, hearing it with such finality made everything far more real.
She already hated the Elders for what they’d done to the Dires, but this made things worse. “The Elders are cowards.”
Rogue shifted his eyes to her. “Don’t say that too loudly—they have an awful lot of power, as you can see.”
“They’re not the ones holding you here?”
“No,” Rogue confirmed.
“They could stop it if they wanted to. And they could wake me up,” she added.
“So could I,” Rifter told her, and by the look in his eyes, she could tell he was planning something that turned her stomach.
“No, you already gave up something for me. You spent time in their prisons because of me,” she told him. “I won’t let you go through that again.
“I’d go through it a million times if it meant keeping you sa
fe.”
“No.”
“You wanted to live, no matter what—you told me that.”
“That was before I knew all of this.” She paced the room as Rogue remained silent. “We can fight them.”
“Or we can give them a sacrifice.”
“You’ll bring about the downfall of the human race.”
“They won’t be able to replicate me,” he said. “But they’ll spend a long time trying.”
“I deserve a say in this.”
“Me too,” Rogue said quietly. “What’s happening with the weretrappers… it’s gone far beyond what it was ever supposed to.”
“No shit—the world’s in some kind of supernatural shit storm.”
“They have no idea what they’re letting out,” Rogue said. “They think they’re gaining power when they’re really handing over any they had to the demons.”
“And Seb’s helping. Allowing it.”
“He’s bound like I am.”
Rifter stared at Rogue. “You know that for a fact?”
“I’m pretty sure. Shit, Rifter, why the hell else would he do this? It’s never made sense.”
“He did it—that’s all that matters.”
“I’m telling you—that goddamned coven put some kind of spell on him.”
Gwen knew Rifter wanted that to be true, more than anything.
“Then we can free him,” Rifter said.
Rogue shook his head. “Way too late for that. He’s fucked. You’ll be saving something that’s slowly turning unnatural.”
“Some say we’re unnatural too,” Rifter pointed out.
“He’s gone, Rift. Let it go.”
Gwen could tell it was a devastating blow to Rifter. As much as he hated Seb, she knew a part of him still held out hope that Seb would return to the pack.
“Sorry, man. If I thought there was any way…” Rogue trailed off, racked by some invisible pain. He gasped for air, cursed, and then he was still for a long moment.
She touched his forehead and his eyes opened. “You’ve got a nice touch.”
Rifter growled and Rogue laughed hoarsely. “Relax, King, I’m not honing in on your mate.”
Both men stilled suddenly, and Gwen swore she heard howling inside her head. And it wasn’t her Sister Wolf.
Chapter 40
Rifter heard the howls in his ears. Something was happening in the other world—the real world. Rogue felt it too.
“Outlaws,” he whispered. “You’ve got to stop all of this, Rifter. Figure out a way.”
This was one of the worst places Rifter could think of being, and yet the thought of being pulled away made him sick. But the other world—the real world—tugged at him, and he knew he had to get back to his brothers.
In fact, if he looked hard enough, he could see them, standing next to him and Gwen, looking worried at the fact that neither was responsive.
Now he turned to look at Gwen and Rogue. Gwen was touching the silver along Rogue’s wrists, trying to move it away from the tender skin so it would no longer burn him and standing far too close to the mare for comfort.
She’d already asked if there was any way to cut the silver bonds off.
Both Rogue and Rifter were worried because the silver didn’t burn her at all. “Maybe the half-human thing—or a mutation,” Rogue had whispered, and Rifter hoped that’s all it was. He hadn’t mentioned to Rogue about Gwen’s blood and what it could do to them. Figured that was the least of their worries right now.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“I’ll stay here, with Rogue,” she told him. “It’s not like I can wake up yet anyway.”
That was true, but he could lead her out of this place. And if she stayed… “I won’t be able to come back here to get you out if you don’t wake and shift. The only reason I made it this far was because we were together.”
Even Rogue protested, telling her to go to a quiet place and concentrate on herself. “You can’t stay here.”
But Gwen was having none of it. “I’m not leaving a Dire in hell all alone. I can’t do anything else but be here for him, so let me do that. I’m tired of being helpless. I won’t be, not anymore. I’ll be all right—I’m tougher than I look.”
“Well, to be with Rifter, that I believe.” Rogue looked at him and Rifter sighed.
The fact that Gwen would do that for his brother… what more could he say? “I will make this work. I won’t leave either of you here for much longer.”
Rogue nodded. “I believe you. I’ll take care of her as best I can, see if I can help her get the hell out of the shift. Tell the others.”
Rifter nodded, reluctantly released Gwen’s hand once Rogue took her other one to keep her close.
The fact that she could stay like that, with Rogue… whether that meant she was too close to being a spirit already was something Rifter refused to think about. He walked through hell alone, leaving her in a place she might never return from.
Over my dead body. And it just might come to that if he could get the Elders involved.
But first things first. He roused himself and brushed a hand over her cheek before he went upstairs into the room where Harm was held.
Vice scented them first, but Jinx was up at the glass door overlooking the deck before him. “Fucking motherfucker,” he muttered as he stared out into the woods, the multiple sets of wolf eyes impossible to miss.
“It’s the second wave of outlaws,” Vice observed.
“This could be in retaliation for Liam,” Jinx said.
“Or meant to distract us so we can’t blow the mausoleum. Either way, it’s all part of the same weretrapper bullshit, and we’re surrounded. But I refuse to be trapped in this house for the rest of my goddamned life.”
“If we fight, we can be spotted by the cops,” Jinx reminded him.
“I don’t see any other choice,” Vice said.
“We need Harm to fight,” Stray said as he stared down the outlaws from the glass door leading to the deck. “It’ll make things quicker.”
“No,” Jinx said firmly.
“Can’t leave him chained forever,” Stray argued.
“He’ll stay that way until Rogue is freed,” Jinx said.
“Now’s not the time for this discussion,” Vice reminded them. “The longer this takes, the more police presence will show in this yard.”
“Should we try to wake Rifter?” Stray asked.
“I think he’s got his hands full,” Vice said. “Leave him. The twins and Liam are ready for this.”
Jinx and Stray nodded, and the twins and Liam looked pleased that the Dires thought to include them. Although none of them wanted this fight, they were anxious to prove themselves an asset.
“If you see Walker or Tals, leave them for me,” Liam growled.
*
Rifter stripped and shifted out the third-floor window right onto two Weres who were hell-bent on killing Cyd.
To be fair, the kid more than held his own. When the two enemies were ripped to shreds, Rifter and Cyd moved in the opposite direction toward what appeared to be a sea of wolves, when the singing wafted over them like a warm breeze. The outlaws simply froze in place, but not the Dires. And one other wolf, whom Rifter had had his eye on from the beginning.
“Fucking Harm,” Vice muttered. “Always has to show off.”
“Good song, though,” Stray said. It was an eighties favorite—headbanging metal—and Stray was shaking his head to the beat until Vice hit him.
Liam and Cyd and Cain were frozen too. No way around that.
“Finish this,” Rifter told them. “I’ve got to check on something.”
The wolf ran into the woods, too agile to be a Were. It was smaller than a Were as well, closer to a coyote. Something a shape-shifter would accomplish—or a witch.
He had run with Seb like this all the time—except they were running side by side, not chasing each other. This time, Rifter knew he wouldn’t catch him, so he stopped, shifted. Called out, “
Seb, I need to turn myself in to Mars.”
The small wolf stopped. Turned warily and waited to see if Rifter would stay in place. When a few minutes passed, the figure blurred and Seb appeared. Fully fucking dressed. That was the one cool thing witches could do when they shifted.
They’d been friends for centuries, looking out for each other through the witch and werewolf trials. Rifter had always admired Seb for refusing to hide what he was.
Now he wanted to ask Seb why, but they were so far beyond that. The man who’d been his best friend, who’d stood with him through mission after mission, during their SEAL days as well as before and after, was no longer on his side. No matter the reason—the damage was done.
“I need to turn myself in to Mars,” he repeated. “I’m assuming you can facilitate that.”
Seb didn’t say anything immediately, and Rifter swore he saw something flicker across his face—sadness, maybe—and then his features hardened again. “What’s the payoff?”
“I need you to save Gwen,” he said bluntly. “She’s stuck in her first shift.”
“Just because I get her through the first doesn’t mean she’ll live,” Seb said.
“I realize that—don’t repeat the lore of my kind back to me.” Rifter’s words were mostly a growl. “Tell Mars my terms. No tricks.”
He turned his back on Seb, walked restlessly through the woods. If the witch had wanted to try something, he didn’t need to wait for that. And Seb, for all his faults, had never been a coward.
“She’s yours, isn’t she?” Seb asked.
Rifter turned to see that Seb had silently followed him. “Save her, Seb. If you ever gave a shit about me, do this.”
Rifter stared at the man with the short dark hair and amber eyes. He looked thinner. Pale too, but that’s what happened when you hung out with demons. “Seb, you can still come back to our side, and we’ll protect you.”
“You don’t mean that—you’d have my head.”
Rifter nodded. “On a stick.”
“My coven comes first,” Seb told him.
“I would’ve helped you if you’d come to me first,” Rifter tried again.
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