by Dianna Hardy
Find the syringe!
Taking a deep breath and hoping beyond hope that everyone was too busy to bother with her, she edged towards the battle, and couldn't believe her luck when the rays of the setting sun glinted off something metal … a needle.
Selena leapt at it.
To her right, Lawrence was driving the head of a Trident into the ground with the front wheel of his bike. Blood sprayed.
Ryan had the leader's arms in a death grip, forcing his limbs backwards – ribs cracked, but that Trident was a fucker to kill. He head butted Ryan in the nose, and that's all Selena had time to see because her mating pains tore through her chest like a carving knife. The moon!
She grabbed the syringe and darted around forms in white robes fighting other Tridents, towards Taylor. I'm coming, I'm coming…
She threw herself on him; didn't even bother finding a precise point of entry but drove the needle into the side of his butt cheek – easier target; harder to get wrong.
She depressed it, and watched the liquid empty into him, sagging in relief when the last drop disappeared. A small sob of victory escaped her. She'd done it. She'd fucking done it.
Five seconds passed; ten … agony pierced her heart as another pang squeezed it tight. Wasn't this part supposed to work straight away? She didn't feel any different. He didn't smell any different. In fact, he smelled … just like he had earlier.
Her blood ran cold as she shook her head from side to side. “No,” she whispered. “No…”
He stirred, his eyes rippling under closed lids, trying to open. His throat moved and sound emerged… “Lydia…”
The storm above them, which had been steady but sedate, suddenly grew and swirled. Lightning flashed across the sky.
She swivelled and her gaze fell on Lydia, now stirring, herself, because she finally could.
Oh, no…
She looked down at the syringe, only now noticing its diameter was ever so slightly slimmer than it should be. This wasn't her syringe – this was…
The vague memory of the Trident injecting something into Lydia's arm seeped into her brain. She'd been too wrapped up in Taylor to take proper notice. Wait … he was about to inject something into himself when Ryan had attacked him and … and she'd looked away. Ryan must have stopped him. He must have dropped the…
She let the needle fall from her grasp in horror. This was his syringe. He'd injected Lydia with half of the liquid and she'd just injected Taylor with the other. She'd mated them again.
Lydia moaned as she tried to move, and another crack split the sky, only beaten by a loud cry of triumph – the kind that signalled a conquest hard-won. It had come from the Trident, who had clearly escaped Ryan. He was on all fours having just found something he was looking for – something he'd lost.
Quick as a flash, he jammed a needle straight into his upper arm.
But I have his syringe.
So, he must have… “NOOOOO!”
The vial emptied into him before her scream had ended.
~*~
The thunder was right on top of them, and Pete was pacing his living room like a caged animal.
Sarah huddled further into Holly, who was just as jumpy as her now.
The storm had come in suddenly, completely unpredicted. At least, she didn't remember seeing anything about a storm on the way in the News this morning.
Only Beth was sitting calmly, for once, taking in everything with quiet observation.
Their cups of teas had been half drunk and were now going cold.
Pete had said he needed to wait for further information before he could take them to Taylor. He kept glancing at his phone which he'd placed on the arm of his sofa, waiting for it to beep.
Finally, Beth stood up and approached him on his next journey back down across the living room. “Enough,” she said, surprisingly gently for Beth.
Pete looked up at her command and Sarah was pretty damn sure she'd just heard him growl. What a fucking odd day this had been. Part of her still wondered if they were going to make it to the end of it.
Beth didn't flinch at Pete's reaction. “Go.”
Now, he looked surprised, and also, unsure.
“I mean it. Just go. It's obvious you want to be somewhere else, and we're not going anywhere until this storm clears up. You're getting more agitated by the minute, so please, just go and do whatever it is you need to do. Unless the roof starts to cave in, we'll still be here when you get back.”
We will?
But Sarah kept quiet. The thought of being free of this Pete guy, even if only for a few minutes, seemed mighty fine.
“We don't need babysitting. We came here to speak to Taylor, but we came here unannounced. If he's preoccupied, and you have stuff to do, I guess we wait, and just head on home when the storm's cleared up … maybe make an actual appointment for meeting up next time.”
That last bit was said with an element of hope.
Holly nudged Sarah. The meaning in her look was clear: if Beth wants to come back, she's coming back on her own.
Sarah rolled her eyes. As much as she wanted to agree, there was no way she'd let Beth come back here to this could-be-a-Tim-Burton-film-set on her own.
Pete stared at Beth – he was good at doing that – then he turned and walked off to get something from a cabinet. He returned with a gun.
Holy shit! Sarah froze.
But he grabbed the muzzle of it and turned the handle for Beth for take. “It's a dart gun. Keep the door locked. If anyone – and I mean anyone – comes in that isn't me, you shoot them.”
“Er … right.” She took it from him. “Got it.”
More staring ensued, before he finally strode out of the house, firmly shutting the door behind him.
“Shoot them?” piped up Sarah. “Shoot them?”
Beth waved the gun around as she shrugged. “He's just really territorial.”
“We need to leave now.”
“In this weather?” And to prove her point, the thunder sounded above them and reverberated off the walls, shaking little bits and pieces on the mantelpiece and on shelves. “We'll get soaked if not struck by lightning. You know where you shouldn't be when there's lightning? In the bloody woods surrounded by trees. We're safer in here until it's passed.”
“Sssshhhhhh! Listen!”
“What?”
They all fell silent, straining their ears.
Beth shook her head. “All I hear in the rain.”
“And my heart pounding in my ears,” added Holly.
“I heard a scream, I swear I did.”
“Sarah, you're letting your imagination get the better of you,” consoled Beth. “Here…” She offered her the gun. “Do you want this?”
“No, I really don't, thanks.”
Another clap of almighty thunder shook the house, and Sarah eyed any shelving she could see to make sure nothing was about to fall on top of them.
“Can you believe the storms we've been having this summer? Just last month there was a—”
“Oh, my god,” Sarah uttered, her tone dropped right down to a whisper. She rose from her seat.
“Honey, what is it?” asked Holly, reluctantly letting go of her arm.
She just shook her head, unable to form words, and made her way to one of the bookcases, not quite able to believe what she was seeing.
“Sarah?”
“Look,” she squeaked, and picked up the small unicorn that stood proudly on the middle shelf between Lord Of The Rings and Bram Stoker's Dracula.
“Hey!” exclaimed Beth. “That's the same unicorn you got given at the shop!”
Holly frowned. “I'm lost here, guys.”
Sarah ignored her, trying to put together pieces of a puzzle for which she had an uncomfortable feeling she made up part of the picture. “The last time I had this was at the theatre four nights ago. I stabbed the wild dog with it.”
“You stabbed the dog?” said Beth, her tone holding some accusation. “You didn't tell me th
at bit.”
“It was attacking us. I went into auto-drive, and what was I supposed to do, anyway? Just let it rip Amil apart as I stood and watched? Please don't feel sorry for the dog, Beth.”
Beth didn't look convinced, devout animal lover that she was. She'd long held the opinion they were more trustworthy and easier to read than people.
“What I want to know is what it's doing here?”
“Are you sure it's the same one?”
“Positive. Right down to this little kink in the left hoof. This is the exact same unicorn.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait…” butted in Holly. “So … who gave you this unicorn at the shop?”
“Some mystery man we don't know,” replied Beth. “He was possibly drunk.”
“Okay … let me get this straight: a possibly drunk stranger gives you a unicorn, which you take with you to the theatre—”
“On a whim,” added Sarah.
“Fine … and that same night, you're attacked by a dog, which you then attack with the unicorn—”
“And then I left it there at the theatre – I totally forgot about it—”
“And somehow, it ends up here.”
The three of them looked at each other, befuddled, until Beth spoke up stating the only conclusion that any of them could come up with. “Pete's connected to the theatre – maybe he was part of the clean-up crew dealing with the remnants of the attack, and found the unicorn.”
“And he kept it?”
“Maybe he likes unicorns.”
Holly giggled.
Sarah threw her a glare.
“I'm sorry, it's just … that huge, scary man liking itty-bitty unicorns tickled my funny bone.”
Beth looked dumbfounded. “I don't get how you both find him so scary.”
“Oh!” said Holly, suddenly. “Sarah, that night at the theatre was the same night you called Taylor.”
“Yeah … and?”
“Don't you see? Pete knows Taylor and he has the unicorn. Taylor and the unicorn are connected – it was probably him who gave it to you, and … don't you collect unicorns or something? Or is that stamps?”
“Yes, I used to, but—”
“And Taylor would have known that about you. God damn it, Sarah, Taylor's the mystery man who gave you the unicorn, and now it's here, with Pete, who's his friend.”
“Er … and the wild dog?”
“Well, I don't know, but you're Taylor's wife and you're here, Pete is Taylor's friend and he's here, the unicorn that a 'stranger' gave you – insert Taylor's name – is here … the lowest common denominator, is Taylor.”
Holly's logic seemed less like logic and more like a string of coincidences melded together, but she had to admit, it made more sense than anything she'd come up with.
Beth sighed. “Let's just ask Pete about it when he gets back, okay? Also, I need to pee – I'm gonna find the loo.”
No time for that.
The three women screamed as the front door crashed to the floor.
Chapter Sixteen
Nothing moved.
Nothing sounded.
Except the rain.
Time seemed to have stopped on Selena's scream, both werewolves and Tridents sensing something crucial had just taken place … irrevocably.
Lydia quietly sat up, relieved that she could; beyond thankful that the pain tearing her apart had dissipated.
And she could smell Taylor … on her again – bonded with her.
That clarity almost had her weeping with gratitude. She glanced over at him to find him awake and staring at her, still lying on his back, water beading off his nudity. He looked equally consoled that they were once more joined.
Taylor…
I thought I'd lost you.
She wanted to run to him, but other things were happening – disturbing things.
Mating pheromones spiced the air, but the scent of it was alarming, for it was unnatural.
Behind one of the white-robed wolves, Richard emerged, wide-eyed and pale-faced. “Selena…” he voiced; choked.
Selena glanced up at him as if noticing him for the very first time. Maybe that was the case, because she looked stunned, dazed … bereft. “Daddy?”
“What have you done?”
Her answer was not an answer, but the same question repeated in a trembling whisper, as some horrendous realisation swept over her countenance. It stole her fight from her; stole all hope. “What have I done?”
Lydia spied the empty syringe by her feet, then looked over at the Trident and the syringe that he held, also empty. It would be easy, at this point, to put two and two together and come up with fourteen, but scent didn't lie, and the wrong – very wrong – signature of this particular one, left no room for doubt: Selena and the leader of the Trident were mated.
She stared at her father, a single tear falling down her shell-shocked expression. “Dad … I'm s-sorry,” she stuttered out, barely audible. “I j-just wanted to l-live.”
A slow, cruel grin spread over the Trident's face. “I had other plans tonight, but this will do. Welcome to your new life, my darling.”
Richard attacked. Shifted mid-air and landed on him, all fur and claws and razor-sharp teeth – they sank into his neck.
Selena let out another scream, this one of pain.
“STOP!” That was Lawrence, and Ryan lunged forward to pull Richard off the enemy. Richard wouldn't budge despite his efforts, and that was a testament to the old wolf's strength.
It was finally Pete, sprinting into view on all fours – black and white and huge, with half his face lacking fur – that stopped him. He threw himself right into Richard, taking Ryan with him as well. Richard left a gaping hole in the Trident's neck, but the Trident had now shifted into the beast he was, towered over them all with eyes, previously grey, now yellow, slitted and glowing; drool dripped from his snarl onto his bleeding wound.
This was the point at which the two species differed wildly; when you could see their diversity so clearly, you would never have thought them connected. When shifted, werewolves looked like large wolves; Tridents looked like monsters – an experiment gone wrong – which was pretty much accurate.
He fixed his gaze on Selena and advanced.
With her strength renewed, Lydia yanked that god-awful collar from around her neck and brought herself to standing, drawing the storm down automatically.
“Lydia…”
She turned to Lawrence.
Stricken, he shook his head. “Hurt him and you'll hurt her; you might kill her.”
God … Selena was her least favourite person in the world. She had 'unmated' herself and Taylor, and Lydia was still unclear exactly how, but … this…
The lightning filled her palms, aching to be released. Others had lost their mates and survived, hadn't they?
Lawrence seemed to read her mind. He answered her question with his own. Males can survive the death of their mate; I know of no females that ever have. We believe it's something to do with the gene that prevents them from shifting before mated in the first place. It's why you were so affected by what was done to Taylor; Ryan and I, less so.
Jesus Christ…
Aside from the fact that her numb brain all at once understood she was going to have to find a way to keep all three of her mates permanently safe, what was taking place now was horrendous.
The Trident passed by her on his way to Selena.
“I meant what I said,” Lydia told him, quietly. “I'll find a way to kill you.”
He turned on her suddenly, gnashing his teeth.
Lawrence raced to her side and pushed himself in front of her to meet him head on.
“I'm ready,” cut in Selena's hushed tone.
The Trident growled a low warning at them, and then pulled back.
She stepped forward, shaking all over. “I'm ready now.”
He took a step towards her.
Selena stared at Lydia. “Nightstand. Top drawer.”
Then on a cry of vic
tory, she was hauled upwards and over his shoulder. He sped away with the two Tridents who had survived the slaughter, both Ryan and Pete straining to keep Richard from chasing after them … and then the old wolf broke.
He de-shifted, collapsed in on himself and howled out sobs of anguish.
“Lydia.” Taylor came up behind her.
Her own tears fell as he took her in his arms. He was shaking slightly.
Lawrence placed a kiss on the back of her head, and then he let his hand fall on the side of Taylor's neck; squeezed gently… “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
“Stay with Lydia. The moon's up – the change can happen any moment now. We'll regroup as soon as we can.” And Lydia knew he was referring to the four of them. She pressed herself further into Taylor. Nothing would be better right now than being wrapped up in all three of her mates.
“Okay,” he replied.
Lawrence turned to Ryan who was rocking Richard in his arms like a baby. They exchanged a look, and nodded.
Lawrence addressed the pack. “Is everyone here?”
The figures all robed in white pulled down their hoods – some males, some females – all of them werewolves, but none that she had seen before. Ryan must have brought them back with him. Were they part of his previous pack?
The members of their own pack who had shifted during the fight, now changed back into their human forms. She let her eyes fall on them all, as she curled into Taylor's embrace. She wasn't letting him go any time soon.
Everyone was accounted for, including the females, and everyone looked aggrieved at what had just taken place.
Finally, she let her gaze fall on the dead Tridents littering the ground. While werewolves turned into wolves upon death, Tridents, unless turned to mush by Datura, reverted back into their human forms. The whole area looked like a murder scene from some Tarantino film.
“Good. The meeting takes place now. We—”
“Wait!”
Taylor gripped her tighter at her exclamation.
She reluctantly wriggled out of his arms, scanning the ground frantically, panic rising…