by Zoe Winters
Charlee’s gray Honda Civic rolled to a stop.
The tollbooth guy’s voice rumbled just outside, asking to see ID. Greta tried to remain calm. It could be a routine check. Though she had no idea why the preternatural border patrol would do something so obviously sinister if they weren’t sure they had someone trying to cross the border. If it was a false alarm they’d have to call in a vampire to do a memory wipe, and vamps hated being bothered during their prime hunting hours.
“Charlotte Devlin?” The guard asked.
“Y . . . yes?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like you to open the trunk.”
Shit. Greta began frantically clawing through the layers of fabric.
“You aren’t authorized to search this vehicle.” Love her heart, Charlee thought she was still operating in a human world with democratic rules.
“You won’t remember your rights being ignored in the morning,” he said. “Now open the trunk before this has to get ugly.”
Greta heard the key turn in the lock, and the trunk was flung open. She was poised, ready to jump. Her claws dug into the guard’s cheek as she leaped off him. He yelped and cursed into his walkie-talkie for backup.
She was panting as she ran, desperate to put as much distance between herself and whoever the guard was calling, unsure which road might lead her to some temporary haven of safety. Finally, she spotted an open window. Someone without air conditioning had left their window open a few inches, only a screen protecting them from burglars. She wondered how such people didn’t end up in ditches and on the six o’clock news.
Greta ripped the screen with her claws and hopped inside. She crept into a bedroom to search through the closet, careful not to wake the middle-aged woman snoring loudly in the bed. Greta’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the clothes she had to choose from. The woman was twice her size and had a large collection of dresses with big flowers printed on them. The colors were bright and spanned the entire spectrum of the rainbow. She sighed and put one on.
Sticking to the shadows, she crept outside and paused in an alley behind a dumpster to catch her breath. A gloved hand covered her mouth. She struggled, but it was one of the tribe, someone stronger than her.
“Don’t scream,” Simon whispered. Her eyes widened as they caught something bright and silvery reflected in the streetlight. A hypodermic needle was poised over the vein in her throat. Then the world went away.
Chapter Nine
Dayne woke to a pounding he was sure was coming from the inside of his skull until he opened his eyes and realized it was the door. His fingertips skimmed over the bump Greta had left. Jesus Christ, she’d gone insane on him. He couldn’t figure out why she’d thought he planned to kill her. Surely, the last activity they’d been engaged in together wouldn’t lead her to that conclusion.
He crossed the room in three strides and threw the door open. His expression changed from hope to anger. “You’re taking your life in your own hands by being here. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you that night.”
The ward on the door dissolved, and Jaden glided past him into the house. She was dressed for a night on the town in a long backless black gown with a slit up one side, and strappy black heels that in another time and place would have made his mouth water in anticipation.
“You never could have killed me.”
Dayne wrapped his hand around her throat. “Care to make a wager?”
Jaden pushed him off her with ease and rolled her eyes. “As fun as this is, I’m not here to rekindle our old affair. Greta got captured.”
This is so unbelievably transparent. My IQ might have dropped several points the first time you rolled in playing the temptress, but I’ve grown as a person since then.”
Jaden smirked. “I’m sure.”
“I think she’s perfectly safe. And if she isn’t, what do I care?”
“What, indeed.” She shrugged and stretched out on the couch. “It’s your call. But she’ll be sacrificed as soon as the sun sets.”
Dayne was momentarily stunned by the sunlight streaming through the windows. He shook his head and pointed at the door.
“Leave.”
“I know you care for her. Help me.”
He was annoyed by how well she could still read him. “Why would you give her my address in the first place?”
Jaden looked at the ground, the confident facade falling around her feet. “Because I knew you could keep her safe.”
“You didn’t think sending her here might endanger her?”
“It’s not in your nature to harm an innocent. You know you never felt that way about me.”
One side of Dayne’s mouth inched up in a grin. “Because you weren’t, in fact, an innocent.”
“True enough.” Jaden withdrew a thin lady’s cigarette out of a red leather pouch and placed it between her lips. Her eyes remained on his as she lit the tip and inhaled the nicotine.
Playing the seductress had become her full-time role, Dayne mused. She didn’t seem aware she was doing it. Or if she was, she was barking up the wrong tree. She’d folded her legs underneath her, and now she unfolded them, crossing them primly to allow one thigh to peek out of the dress.
Goddammit. He was going to let Jaden lead him into a trap again. This time he was killing her. The shapeshifter was far too dangerous to be left alive.
“Very well,” he said, finally. “I’m sure Greta shed some fur around the house.” He’d need it for the spell to find her. “And Jaden, if this is a double-cross like the last time, you die. Don’t expect old sentiments to keep you safe. If you’re fucking with me this is your last chance to leave quietly.”
Jaden was already looking for cat fur.
***
“Wakey. Wakey.”
Greta opened her eyes to see Simon grinning down at her. She was in a steel cage, with barely enough room to turn around. Her wrists were tied in front of her with coarse rope.
She looked down to find herself dressed in a flowing white gown, right out of a Cleopatra movie. She would have felt somewhat ridiculous if it weren’t for the mind-numbing fear.
Even with her new level of control, she should have shifted by now. But she knew she’d never shift again. Greta mourned the loss of the grass and the hunt and the stars that used to blur overhead as she ran. She felt sluggish as the drugs flowed through her veins, dampening everything. Her keen sense of smell, vision, hearing, her ability to scent emotions. It was all gone. She felt . . . human.
She’d spent a great deal of time passing for human, spending more time with them than her own tribe. Trying to blend. She no longer wanted to blend; she just wanted her powers back. A tear slid down her cheek.
“Oh, don’t cry. You won’t be pretty for the sacrifice. No one wants running mascara in a sacrifice. Least of all, me.”
“The gods won’t honor this.”
Simon laughed, less a villain laugh and more a that’s the funniest joke I’ve heard in ages laugh. “You’re adorably naive, Greta. There are no gods.”
“Then, why?”
“I want Dayne dead. I’ve been studying magic for ages. Your power will allow me to defeat him. Then I can run this town with no threat of challenge.”
“Except for the wolves.” They were notoriously hard to keep in line.
He waved a hand in dismissal, “The wolves will be dealt with.”
“And the vampires,” she said, not sure why she was still arguing with him.
“The vampires and I share the same agenda.”
A sick feeling lodged in her stomach. “I thought Dayne was involved with the ritual.”
Again Simon laughed. “I think he played that rep of his a little too well. You couldn’t even trust your own senses. I sent you the dreams.”
She knew Simon and Jaden had tried to be subtle about their love affair while Greta was growing up. But they hadn’t been subtle enough. She’d grown up thinking of him as her step dad.
If Jaden had once slept with Dayne to lure
him into a trap set by Simon and the tribe, she could see where he might never let that drop. Even if it had been his idea. She’d been born soon enough after; she’d become the new plan. She didn’t have to ask if Simon had killed her real mother.
“If you do this, it’ll make you insane. We can’t wield magic like they can. What’s the point of having power if you lose your mind?” Greta said.
“Maybe. Maybe I’m already there. Slowly draining the blood out of my daughter doesn’t sound like rational behavior to me, does it you?”
She looked stricken. “You can’t be my father.” An image of Darth Vader burst into her head. At any other time, it would have been funny.
“I’d submit to a DNA test, but I’m sure you can appreciate the time crunch I’m on. Jaden couldn’t reproduce, and I wanted an heir. I figured it was tit for tat as these things go anyway. I wanted a boy, but you more than made up for it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“No? Then how would I know the circumstances of your birth?”
“I’ll tell the rest of the tribe what you’re doing. They won’t participate in this stupid vendetta against Dayne.”
Simon sighed and shook his head in fatherly disapproval. “You should feel privileged to give your life to make the tribe strong. Now be a good kitty, and open up.”
He reached through the bars to shove a gag into her mouth, snapping the leather straps closed behind her head. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.
“Now only we know our secret.” Simon held an index finger up to his lips and smiled.
“Mmhmhmpphr.” Greta’s scream was muffled behind the gag. She struggled against the ropes.
“It’s time.”
Simon picked up the handle attached to the base and rolled the cage to the door. The wheels squeaked under her. One was uneven, and she lost her equilibrium as he increased the pace. She knew he felt the moon rising.
Greta no longer could. Suddenly, losing the feel of the moon was all she could think about. The way her skin always felt warm when the moon rose, as if it were sunlight.
The fluorescent lights blinked on and off as the cage bumped down the nondescript hallways until finally they reached a door with a red exit sign over it. The sign flickered with a little electric buzz, and Greta realized it was Simon. Power already rolled off him, competing with the electricity for dominance.
Behind the warehouse was an open field surrounded by trees. In the middle of the clearing a large ritual circle had been formed with wooden logs. The small tribe stood reverently outside the circle, wearing identical long black cloaks. Beneath the cloaks, Greta knew they were all naked. This was what they wore when they shifted together.
The tribe was just twelve members strong now. In the glory days, it had been well over thirty. Jaden wasn’t among them.
A crude concrete slab stood in the center of the circle. It had been built for the occasion with large steel chains bolted into it. Simon rolled the cage to just outside the circle and produced a key from his pocket.
Another therian appeared out of the darkness to help. As if Greta could fight one of them with only human strength. How could humans stand to be so weak?
She struggled against them as they half dragged, half carried her to the stone slab, so much like the one in her dream. Except, she’d dreamed of the wrong executioner. She tried screaming again. Simon was a lost cause, but maybe the other therian.
His name was Benjamin. She’d grown up with him; they’d played together. He wouldn’t do this to her. Surely, he had to see this was wrong. The gods didn’t deserve worship if they wanted this. Her eyes pleaded with Benjamin, but he looked away as he took a knife from his pocket and cut the ropes off her wrists.
They hauled her onto the stone slab, and the wind rushed out of her as the last possibility of escape was ripped away with the locking of the chains. It was so loud it was as if her preternatural senses had come flooding back in a rush of self-preservation. But then the sudden sense clarity faded back to the dull, drugged feeling, and another tear rolled down her cheek.
Benjamin stood stiffly to the side, still averting his eyes from her. If what was left of the tribe banded together, they could take Simon out. But none of them was brave enough to face down their bully. No one was stepping forward to save her.
Four therians came up around the outside edges of the circle, each holding a flaming torch to light the wood that formed the ritual space.
Greta’s world narrowed, alone inside the circle of flames with Simon. The members of the tribe shifted and horrifying howls, like cats in heat, lifted up into the night. She could see their glowing eyes through the flames as they prowled around the edges of the circle, keeping up those horrible half-growls, half-meows.
Simon stood at the foot of the slab, holding the golden ritual knife up to the sky. The knife had been used in full moon rituals her whole life. Consecrated, sacred, and blessed, about to be desecrated by the unholy spilling of her blood for a power-crazed Were.
“Bless this sacrifice and increase my territory,” Simon said, with the knife raised in a mockery of sanctity.
He made long shallow cuts in her flesh. She wasn’t sure what had been in the syringe, but whatever it was numbed the pain. How long would it take? How long before she felt her life slip away like in the dream? All at once, the howling stopped as one by one the therians worked to reclaim their human forms.
Naked men and women struggled and scuffled outside the circle of flames like grotesque shadow puppets. Greta watched the bodies drop, and then one solitary therian stood still in fur, golden cat eyes staring through the flames, before backing up and taking a running leap over the wall of fire. Her claws dug into Simon’s back as she growled.
It took a second for Greta to realize it was Jaden. Simon grabbed her and tossed her out of the circle. The next shape that came barreling through the fire was human.
Chapter Ten
The two combatants rolled on the ground, grappling like high school wrestlers. Either Greta was having hallucinations of what she wished would happen in her last moments, or Dayne had done something to enhance his strength. The two men rolled toward the flames, then away again. Simon caught fire, and they rolled together to dampen it.
Suddenly, Dayne flew back. Simon’s hand was held out in front of him, and green energy crackled from his fingertips. He wiped a bloody nose with his other hand.
Dayne’s lip was cut, but he chuckled. “Learned a few tricks since our last meeting?”
“Coming to save the girl, Dayne? You really are pathetic. You should trade up for some shiny armor. I could give you mine if you’d like. It’s just collecting rust at my house.”
“I’m here for my blood. That’s all.”
Simon shrugged. “Well, there’s plenty of it.”
He gestured toward Greta. She’d become listless, no longer struggling, as the blood flowed out of her into the moat around the altar. She was using all her energy and focus just to remain conscious and aware. The voices around her sounded like they were under water.
“Well? Aren’t you going to take it?” Simon asked.
“You know it doesn’t work that way. Another ritual is already in place.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave my circle,” Simon said. “If you stay, you might get some of the power, and then I won’t have an unfair advantage later when I come to kill you.”
Dayne threw a handful of herbs at Simon and raised his arms. He shouted an incantation that caused a band of light to wrap around the tribe leader, effectively binding him.
“You can’t save her,” Simon said. “She can’t shift forms to heal. By the time the drugs are out of her system it’ll be too late.”
Dayne raised his arms again and looked up, shouting an invocation. The sky opened, and rain poured down. Greta closed her eyes against the downpour and shivered, her teeth clattering.
“Great plan there, hero. She can die of a chill and blood loss,” Simon taunted from the b
ubble that trapped him. His inability to move didn’t extend to his lips.
“I should have used more sage,” Dayne mumbled as Simon kept babbling. “It’s safe now,” he said when the fire had died.
Simon struggled within the band of light. “Who are you talking to?”
Anthony entered the circle, an unmistakable leer on his face as he looked hungrily at Greta. He wore his basic black, but his blond hair flowed loose. His face was caked with blood.
“Looks like I get a taste after all.”
It looked like he’d had plenty of tastes already.
Simon laughed. “Oh, this is a great plan. Vampires are entirely untrustworthy. He’ll take too much.”
“Shut the hell up!” Dayne said. He turned to Anthony. “Do it.”
Dayne went to one side of the altar and threaded his fingers through Greta’s. “He’s not going to hurt you. I could have whipped up a potion to counteract the drugs, but there wasn’t time. It’s clumsy, but he can siphon the poison out of your bloodstream.”
Anthony knelt on the other side of Greta and gripped her chin, turning her head to the side. His breathing deepened, obviously aroused by the sight of her half-naked and bleeding. He licked a long trail up the side of her neck, and she shivered.
Dayne’s grip tightened on her hand. “Just get on with it.”
The vampire chuckled and sank his fangs into Greta’s throat. She gritted her teeth, expecting pain, but what she felt instead was intense and unexpected pleasure. He took gentle tugs, and some delirious part of her thought maybe she should have taken him up on his offer before tonight.
“Okay, that’s enough,” she said as the strength in her voice returned. She struggled, but he growled and continued to drink. The drugs didn’t seem to affect his strength as they had hers.
Dayne grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him off her. Anthony was laughing, driven half-mad from the power of her blood. He gave a howl of pure pleasure that could have rivaled that of any therian and ran off into the woods to hunt.