Blood Vow (Blood Moon Rising)

by Tabke, Karin

  “Don’t,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Don’t look at me like that!”

  “Falon,” he said. “Come home with me.”

  Her eyes flew open. “How can you ask such a thing when you have destroyed countless Lycan!” she shouted. “You kidnapped my mother and forced yourself into her heart!”

  She struck the sword into the ground next to his left ear. “You abandoned me!” she shrieked. “And all these years later you come back and expect me to love you? To go home with you? After what you have done?” She grabbed the sword from where it stuck in the ground, digging it into his leather tunic.

  “I despise you. I despise everything about you!” She pushed it into the hide. His eyes never wavered from hers during her tirade but when the steel slid through the leather and into his heart, his eyes momentarily flickered. Her hands shook. “By the detestable fact that you are my father, you have destroyed any chance of happiness I could have had with the two men I love more than my own life.”

  She turned her tear-streaked face up to Lucien and Rafe who were too stunned to move from where they stood. “I didn’t know,” she cried. “I didn’t know until Fenrir told me.”

  Unsteadily, Falon turned back to her father, raising the sword above her head, the razor-sharp tip pointed at his heart, this time determined to take her kill shot.

  Her father’s pleading eyes begged her to spare his life. “If you live, all those I love will die,” she sobbed as tears streamed down her face. “I can’t bear that.” She raised the sword higher. “Perhaps in the afterlife, we can truly be father and daughter, but not in this one.” She brought the sword down, but in the end, she could not do it. Sinking to the ground beside him she cried.

  “I have no such weakness for you, Corbet,” Lucien snarled, grabbing the sword from Falon’s hands just as her father leapt from where he laid in the dirt. Shocked that he was not affected by the poison, and that he tricked them, Falon scurried back into Rafe who pulled her out of the way as he hurried to his brother’s defense.

  “My magic is stronger than any Lycan poison, Vulkasin.” Corbet sneered from where he hovered twenty feet above them. With a flick of his hands, he conjured two swords, and hurled them like lightning bolts at Lucien and Rafael, skewering them both where they stood.

  They stood impaled through the chest to the ground.

  “No!” Falon screamed, jumping to her feet as her father drew them to him with an invisible string. “Free them!” she demanded. She moved beneath them, their blood dripping on her face and shoulders. With her own power, Falon sent her father reeling backward into the hill. But Rafe and Lucien who hung limp and bleeding but alive from the swords followed.

  Rage, black and terrible infused her. Power snapped and sparked around her as her vision narrowed with bloody intent. If it cost her her own life, she would see Rafa and Luca free and her father dead.

  Corbet’s equal, Falon rose up before him. “If you love me half as much as you say you do, let them go!”

  Corbet smiled indulgently. “If I let them go I will not survive the rising,” he calmly explained.

  “If you don’t let them go now, you won’t live to see the rising!”

  “Falon!” he bellowed. “Do not threaten me!”

  “Let. Them. Go. Now.”

  Vehemently he shook his head. “Their release is conditional, daughter. If you come with me now, I release them. Otherwise . . .” Corbet rattled the swords. Rafe and Lucien grimaced as their bodies rose and fell along the sharp blade, slicing deeper with the movement. Swollen streams of blood poured from their chests. But neither uttered a word, much less begged for their lives.

  Rafa, Luca, I will get you out of this. I swear it! When there was no reaction from either one of them, Falon knew they could not hear her and there was only one way that could be: They had purposely shut down that portal.

  They had already shut her out! Hopelessness shrouded her heart. Nothing would ever be the same again. The rage swirling inside of her mushroomed. Her eyes narrowed to slits when she looked up at her father. His dark magic hummed angrily around the swords impaling her alphas, keeping them immobile.

  “Go with him, Falon,” Rafa grit out. “We will meet again at the rising.”

  Her heart shattered at his implication. “No, Rafa!” she cried, reaching out to him. “I belong with you and Luca.”

  “You are Slayer!” her father bellowed again. “You belong with me!”

  “No!” she roared furiously. “I am Lycan!” She hurled her sword at him catching him in the gut. But for one as powerful as he, it was nothing more than a scratch. Falon had overestimated her power but underestimated his.

  “I will kill myself before I go with you!” she shrieked, feeling her control slipping. Desperate panic had ahold of her now. She couldn’t lose Rafa and Luca. She wouldn’t allow them to toss her away like yesterday’s news because of something she had no control over.

  “You would destroy my grandchild?” Corbet demanded.

  Rafe and Lucien hissed in shock as if just realizing their child would be a branch on the infamous Corbet family tree.

  Anguished realization hit Falon with stunning clarity. It didn’t matter what her father did to her, to them, to anyone: Rafe and Lucien would never take her back. And there would be no love for the child she carried, either. Hanging her head, knowing anything she said or did would only make her more desperate, Falon gave up.

  “Release them, and I will go with you.” She raised her gaze to her father’s triumphant one and gave him a stipulation of her own. “But I will not take up arms against them or any Lycan.”

  Corbet nodded, lowering himself as well as Rafe and Lucien to the ground and released the sword hilts.

  “Why, Falon? Why give everything up for them?”

  Tears blinded her. “Because I love them.”

  He pointed to them both. “Now that they know your truth they cannot bear to look at you! That is not love!”

  Falon nodded, refusing to look at either alpha. “I can only speak of what is in my heart, Father.”

  “Neither alpha is worthy of your love.” For several long minutes Thomas Corbet stared at his eldest daughter before he reached up around his neck, and withdrew the gold chain he wore. Taking Falon’s hand he dropped the chain and amulet she had thrown at her mother into her palm. It belonged to her father.

  “Take this, Falon; wear it always as it will always remind you of the true sacrifice of love.”

  As she accepted it, he pulled the swords one at a time from Rafe then Lucien. With a wave of his hand the bleeding stopped and they straightened upright and pain-free.

  Solemnly, her father reversed his sword in his hand, and then presented it hilt first to Falon. Raising her gaze to his in question she found him warmly regarding her. What was he up to this time?

  “There was a time, daughter, when my love for you and your mother was all that I possessed in this life. It was all I needed, all I wanted. There was nothing that could take me from either one of you. Except the darkness that has pervaded my soul since the day I was born. I had always run from the things I loved in hopes of running away from the darkness.” He pounded his fist against his chest. “But it’s always there. It never leaves. As your Lycan beast, it’s always there on the prowl ready to erupt. But mine is born of hatred, while your beast is born of survival.”

  Cupping her face in his big hands, he smiled and leaned over her, kissing her forehead. “The blackness in my soul can only quiet with my death. If I live, all that I love will die.” He knelt down before her. “If I die, all that I love has the chance to flourish.”

  He looked past her to Rafe and Lucien, then back to her again. Her hands trembled violently, the sword shaking against her leg. “There is no geater love than that of a parent for their child. No sacrifice too great. Take my swo
rd, Falon, and do the deed before the darkness overrides the love in my heart.”

  “I cannot,” she sobbed. “I cannot kill you in cold blood.”

  Without looking up at her he said, “Then allow your alphas the honor.”

  I cannot.

  Do it, daughter, it is your only chance to survive the rising.

  With a sob she turned to find that Rafael and Lucien had moved within steps of her. With trembling hands she offered her father’s bloody sword, hilt first to Rafe and Lucien.

  She choked back tears, and released the sword to Rafe who took it. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “So, so sorry.”

  She turned, and stumbled into the darkness, leaving Lucien and Rafael dazed and heartbroken.

  “Rafe?” Lucien said hoarsely, emotion clogging his words and tears blurring his vision. “Let’s do this together.”

  Rafe raised blank eyes to his brother and together they grasped the sword hilt and in a furious blow, they brought it down ending the Corbet legacy.

  Thirty

  HIGH UP ON the edge of the foothill, pulled tightly into a ball with her knees tucked under her chin, Falon numbly stared at Rafael and Lucien, who had not moved since they ended her father’s life. It was as if they had turned to stone. It was how she felt. Cold and immobile.

  The trauma of losing them—and she’d known the moment her father revealed her secret that she’d lost them—was too much for her heart to process. The sacrifice her father made—she could not fathom it. It had yet to completely process in her brain. Though she had never known him, didn’t want to know him when given the chance, she felt his loss more than she should. That he was a cruel man, who would have eventually killed more Lycan, didn’t play to her heart. That he loved her, her sister, and mother enough to die for them did. With that one selfless act, he redeemed himself in her heart. It was how she chose to remember him. A father who loved his family, not the destroyer of Rafa’s and Luca’s.

  The little girl in her mourned for him the most. That six-year-old girl who cried for days when he left her. She mourned what never was and what would never be. The realization only cast the spotlight brighter on her true loss. An unconditional love that had turned out to be conditional after all. It hurt more, understanding it so completely. Of hating that part of herself that Rafe and Lucien despised so much they could never look at her with love again. Only contempt. Disgust and hatred. Hard shuddering sobs tore through her raw chest. Her throat burned, her eyes so swollen from tears she could barely see.

  In the distance, two long, mournful howls filled the night as the twin alphas returned to their pack. Without her. “Oh, Rafa,” she wept. “Luca . . .” She could not bear their pain or hers. Her heart ached so badly she could not breathe. Her stomach lurched and pitched as agony slammed through her wave after never-ending wave. She retched. The adrenaline pumping through her was too much for her system to take. On all fours, she retched up her guts as her heart and soul disintegrated into thousands of tiny pieces. Finally, when there was nothing left, she collapsed and lay unmoving on the hillside, staring blankly at the darkness.

  Even when the cold arctic air seeped into her skin, and her teeth chattered and her limbs trembled, she didn’t care enough to seek shelter. Instead, she shifted, curling into a tight ball and prayed for the gods to ease her pain.

  But when she woke to the morning sun, the pain in the light of day was unbearable. She closed her eyes again and prayed for blissful unconscious sleep. Sleep found her but the bliss she desperately craved did not. Nightmares raged in her head. Of Lucien and Rafael furious and vengeful, cutting her baby from her belly, and destroying him before they did the same to her.

  They turned the nation against her, refusing her help, denouncing the power of three.

  Those aimless gray souls, the ghost walkers, screamed furiously, threatening her, knowing now there was no chance for their resurrection. Her mother and Talia, eaten alive by the maniacal Fenrir—that terrible beast the only being on the planet that would have her.

  Horrified, she watched as swarms of Slayers overran the nation, cutting them in half before striking the final deathblow. And all she could do was helplessly watch until only Rafael and Lucien were left to face Fenrir’s wrath and they, too, succumbed to the triumphant wolf’s vicious jaws.

  “No!” she screamed, coming awake. Wildly she looked around not knowing where she was or how many days had passed. She was naked, in human form. Dirty and hungry. She looked at her shaking hands, her broken nails, the fresh blood on her thighs and the pain in her womb.

  “Oh, no!” she cried. “No, no, no . . .” Not the baby, please, God, don’t take him from me, too!

  “Shhh,” a soothing voice crooned as a cool hand touched her brow. “The baby lives.”

  Relief for that one precious miracle was the last straw that broke her emotional back. She cried slow grateful tears. Her baby lived. He would grow strong like his father and one day he would know the truth. That, she swore to herself, she would never keep from him.

  The days and nights blurred one into the other, and finally the tension in her body eased even if the heartache did not. The heartache would always be there, a dark miserable cloud preventing the sun to shine on her life. It would always be, and she had no will to fight it. There would never be another for her. Rafael and Lucien were her true loves. Her chosen ones, her true mates.

  Blinking her swollen stinging eyes, Falon focused on her surroundings. She was still on the foothill, enclosed in a small glade of trees. Raising her nose in the air the salty scents of the Bering Sea teased her senses. Lifting up on an elbow she caught her breath as she came face-to-face with the gray she-wolf she’d encountered the day of Sasha’s death. The genuine wolf whined and lifted her head and trotted toward Falon.

  She licked her face, and whined again as if to say, “Welcome back.”

  Tears filled Falon’s eyes and trailed down her cheeks unchecked. “Thank you,” Falon whispered, rubbing her face in the wolf’s silky fur. She whined but allowed Falon the time to collect herself. When she did, she sat back and looked for her backpack. Instead she found a blanket beside her she must have thrown off. Bringing it to her nose she inhaled Rafe’s and Luca’s scents. It was from their bed. Beside it was a small basket with food and water, and behind it, a fresh set of clothing. She remembered a soothing voice when she thought she had lost her baby.

  Who? Layla? No, she would not dare return to camp. Sharia was too old. Perhaps Talia? Would she bear the wrath of her alphas to aide their mortal enemy? Did it matter? Falon swallowed against her raw throat and grabbed one of the water bottles from the basket. As she slowly drank she looked across the wide-open field. The tall grass blew gently in tune with the wind. A herd of caribou grazed peacefully one hundred yards off. The beauty of the place was lost on her. Would she ever look at the world in wonder again?

  The she-wolf moved beside her and lay down like a sphinx gazing upon the valley below with Falon. Absently she stroked her as she thought of the first time they met when her pack had paired with pack Ivanov. Falon’s thoughts went beyond what happened to Lucien’s taking of her just down the way. Her body shivered in remembered desire even as her chest tightened painfully.

  “Ah, Luca,” she whispered. “You told me you would do anything for me. I beg you, take me back. Forgive me my parentage.”

  The wind kicked up defiantly scoffing at such an outrageous request. “Rafe, you promised me you would never stop loving me!” She choked back another sob. “You promised!” she screamed. “You promised!”

  The wolf looked at Falon with sadness in her eyes. It was too much for Falon. She stood. On shaky legs, she made her way down to her father’s place of death. Most of his gray ashes had scattered with the wind. Though the imprint of his body was still visible. She squatted next to where his face had been, and shook her head. “Why, if you loved
my mother, could you not embrace all Lycan?”

  She pressed her palm to where his heart would have been, and her tears dropped into the ashes. A thin tendril of smoke rose from the point of contact. It smelled of earth and rain and evergreen. Her father’s scent. At least in his death, they had connected. As she stood, a tiny flash of metal caught the sunlight. She reached down in the ash and withdrew his amulet necklace. The one he had returned to her. She must have dropped it. The stone warmed in her hand a reminder of the sacrifice that went with it. Falon clasped it around her neck, and felt stronger already.

  She looked beyond the ashes to the grass and saw the hilt of a sword sticking out. It was her father’s. Reaching down, she grasped it and felt the souls of the hundreds of Lycan it had slain. She threw it back into the grass, not wanting their blood on her hands.

  As she moved past the remaining ashes, Falon stopped. Though he was not the man she would have chosen to sire her, he’d been her father and she would lay him to rest. She grabbed a flat rock from the cold campfire and began to dig a small hole. After she scooped what was left of her father’s ashes into the hole, she covered it with earth and then rocks from the campfire. As a last tribute, she struck his sword, blade first into the earth, his tombstone.

  Returning to her hillside camp, Falon washed with the water and dried herself with the blanket, then dressed in her jeans and—she smiled bittersweetly—the moccasins Lucien had made for her. She was warm enough in a long-sleeve pullover fleece. She finished the jerky and fruit, forcing down the food for the baby, even though her stomach protested and she had no appetite.

  As the moon began to rise she noted it was waxing gibbous. One week. One week until the rising. One week since she lay in Rafa and Luca’s arms. A wracking sob shuddered through her. One week and they had not come for her.

  And they would not. She was Slayer, her father the master of all Slayers. Once she had been the love of their lives, now she was their mortal enemy. If she did not carry Lucien’s or Rafe’s child she would walk right through the camp and let them tear her apart. It would be easier than living the anguish that was now her existence.