by Kelly Meding
Phin was here. Did that mean Wyatt was here? No one had seen either of them in four days. How had they heard about this? I wanted to haul Phin into a bear hug, then throttle him for disappearing in the first place.
Duty first—even if I was technically a civilian. I gave my rod to Greg for a crutch and jogged over to the huddled group. “Two hounds, two hybrids,” I reported, staring at Phin the entire time—he seemed pale but otherwise himself. “And at least six dead trainees.”
Phin typed the information into his laptop. “That means one hound and three hybrids still unaccounted for,” he said.
Joy. “Is he here?” I asked.
He nodded and my heart soared. But before he could answer in detail, Kismet’s phone chirped as a text came through. She glanced at the display. “Another hybrid down.” Her lips quirked, not quite a smile. “Tybalt’s kill.”
Tybalt was here, too?
“One hound and two hybrids against the lot of us,” Baylor said. “Not good odds for them.”
“No, but that damned wolf at the gate got away,” Kismet said. “And this is a large complex. It won’t be easy tracking them in the woods.”
Somehow it didn’t surprise me the wolf had escaped. “These things were bred to kill and destroy,” I said, finding it difficult to concentrate on tactics right then. Focus now, dammit, meltdown later. “They won’t hide for long, if they’re hiding at all. Do you know where they’re still looking?”
“West of the dorms, near the Pit.”
“Thanks.” Oh yeah. “Bastian’s hurt pretty bad. He’s on the lower track around the obstacle course.”
“We’ll get someone to him,” Kismet said. There was a question in her tone, but I was too wrung out to bother saying I wasn’t the one who hurt him.
I turned to go. Phin snagged my wrist and tugged me back. So many thoughts and emotions danced in his eyes, unfiltered and genuine, and I nearly stumbled under the weight of them. Above all was gratitude, and he didn’t have to say it. I smiled.
“Glad you’re okay,” I said, and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t think I’m not yelling at you later for getting kidnapped and then disappearing on everyone, though.”
He grinned and released my wrist. “Take one of my guns.”
I pulled a pistol out of one shoulder holster. He’d been up to something, and I was damned sure going to find out what—as soon as our last three problems were eating dirt. Weapon in hand, I jogged back in the direction from which I’d come.
Claudia limped past me, her right leg bleeding fiercely. “Pit,” she shouted.
On the edges of the forest east and south of the main buildings, four Hunters I didn’t recognize patrolled the tree line. Two people in black gear identical to Phin’s poked around the exterior of the dorms. Milo and Scott were scouting the opposite tree line. A third Hunter emerged and gave a thumbs-up. Scott immediately texted a message on his cell. Another one bites the dust?
The Pit wasn’t a pit, exactly. It was more like an old, Roman-style amphitheater, with a center platform down low and bleacher-style seating on three sides. It descended twelve rows that were never full. The platform was a dirt floor twenty feet squared, stained black from years of fights to the death. It was also empty save for the shriveling remains of a hybrid-vampire-thing.
Someone shouted a warning too late. Weight slammed into my back, and I tumbled ass over teakettle into the Pit, shoulders and elbows and knees cracking painfully off the metal bleachers. I twisted far enough onto my side to stop forward momentum and lay on my back, stunned and panting. A shadow loomed and I rolled sideways, just fast enough to avoid being smashed by the gray wolf.
I came up on my knees, halfway to the bottom of the Pit. I’d lost my gun on the way down, so I palmed a knife from the sheath at my hip as I pivoted to face … a naked teenage boy. Thackery’s blond-haired, silver-eyed assistant. Something in my stunned expression must have amused him, because he laughed.
“I thought you’d cut and run at the gate,” I said, sizing him up. He was skinny, but I didn’t forget the way he’d manhandled me in that parking structure. “Run like a coward back to your master.”
“The master keeps his promises, Evangeline,” he replied in his ridiculous voice.
“Uh-huh. And what promise was that?”
His scorn was as obvious in his expression as in his next words. “He promised to kill you when the experiment was over.”
A promise I’d asked him to make—stupid. “So why isn’t he here himself? He get a little banged up in the crash?”
Wolf Boy’s response was a low, deep-chested growl that would have put any real wolf to shame. I shifted my stance, ready for attack. Time to put this dog down. Voices shouted above us, around us, but I tuned them out. Let them fucking watch. Maybe I couldn’t have the satisfaction of killing Thackery today, but I could sure as hell kill his shape-shifting wolf-minion.
“What’s the matter?” I said, giving him all the attitude I had. “Don’t eat girls?”
He growled again, and his face changed. The nose and mouth lengthened, thinned out, speckled with gray hair, and sprouted longer, thicker teeth. His ears grew to points, and lines of fur filled in around both eyes, now perfectly round and shimmering with bloodlust.
Holy hell.
He lunged, human body moving like quicksilver, wolf teeth snapping at my throat. Not trusting my own body to do what my mind told it, I avoided initial contact by dropping to one knee, tucking, and rolling. It successfully caused Wolf Boy to sail over my head; it also made me fall down the rest of the bleachers to the dirt arena.
Thundering footsteps announced his descent, and I had the sense to roll again and avoid another attempt to smash my skull. His hands had transformed into clawed paws, thick with fur and sharp nails eerily similar to the other hounds’. The half morphing scared me. I’d seen it only in one species of Therian, and surely this thing wasn’t Therian. It couldn’t be. Phin had once told me there were coyotes and other wild dog species in the Clans, but no wolves.
Wolf Boy slammed into me sideways, and we tumbled through the rough sand, wrestling to see who would come out on top. Dirt flew, landing in my ears and nose and mouth. Claws scored my right arm, trying to dislodge the knife. My entire body ached from wounds and exhaustion, but a final surge of adrenaline kept me moving. Kept me fighting. If anyone eventually killed me, it wasn’t going to be this mixed-breed bastard.
I jammed my left fist into his throat, and he gasped a wheeze through his half-formed mouth. Perfect target, and I slid the knife home. His teeth cut my knuckles even as the blade sliced meat and muscle, until it could go no farther and the point stuck out the back of Wolf Boy’s neck. Blood flowed from his mouth, down over my hand. I shoved as he pitched, and he fell sideways into the dirt, gurgling through his own death until he was still.
A scattering of applause broke out, and I looked up, panting. Half a dozen people ringed the top of the Pit. Some clapped; others still had their guns raised and pointed at the dead boy-monster. I sat there stupidly a moment, unsure if I should be furious they’d stood and watched or grateful to have been given the chance to kill Wolf Boy without interference.
The latter seemed less migraine-inducing, so I went with it.
Footsteps clattered down the bleachers. I hauled ass to my feet, a little dizzy and grossed out by the amount of sand adhering to the new gashes on my arm. I turned around to address whichever audience member had rushed to join me and stood face to face with Wyatt.
I jumped back, startled by his sudden appearance. My heart stuttered. Utter shock and absolute joy choked every word out of my throat. All I could do was gape at him. Fresh blood oozed from a cut on his cheek. His clothes and weapons were almost identical to Phin’s, and from the front I saw a thick leather belt dotted with ammo pouches, sheathed knives, and a few throwing stars.
The hell?
He raised a walkie-talkie and pressed a button, his wide eyes never wavering from mine. “Hound dead, hybrid dead,�
� he said.
The frequency crackled, then Phin’s voice came back. “That’s it. Everything’s accounted for. Have you seen—?”
“Seeing her right now.”
“Out, then.”
Wyatt slipped the walkie-talkie into his belt. His face was a maelstrom of emotions, each so powerful I felt beaten by them. A knot formed in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow it away. Couldn’t escape the rising tide storming inside me. I stared back, trying to form a coherent reply. A shout of joy, a reassurance that it was me and he wasn’t dreaming, even a few tears of happiness wouldn’t be so bad.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I snapped instead.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish. The last time I’d seen him so pale was just after he realized a crazy elf had tricked him into, essentially, selling his soul to the devil. Combined with battle stress—evidenced by the splotches of oddly colored blood on his dark clothes and the sheen of sweat already coating his skin—he seemed on the verge of stroking out.
“Working,” he said, as if asking a question instead of answering one. “Building up something. We looked for you, but you weren’t … Phin and I, we …” The train of thought moved on without him. “It’s all different now.”
“Different?” My heart ached. “Different how?”
“You’re alive.” Wyatt’s voice had never sounded so … small. “You were dead, but Christ, Evy, you’re alive.”
He was persuading himself of the complete opposite of something he’d probably convinced himself to be true. A cloud of tension surrounded him, creating an invisible barrier I hesitated to physically cross. He’d accepted my death, that much was becoming clear. And the knowledge that he’d changed so much during my disappearance stabbed me through the heart. Had coming back been a mistake? Was I hurting him more by being here now?
“Max saved me,” I said.
He cocked his head, not understanding. Then the name must have clicked. Absolute wonder came over him, softening the lines around his eyes and mouth, and turning his open-mouthed shock into awe. His watering gaze flickered to my various injuries, taking stock of me. I was so close, able to be in his arms in two steps.
Our gazes met, and I nearly fell into the inky blackness of his eyes. He raised his hand. Fingertips hovered near my cheek but didn’t touch. I pressed against his hand and felt the instant heat of skin on skin. The spark of life in his touch. He made a soft choking sound in his throat. “I’m really not imagining you?”
“Would you imagine me in torn clothes, covered in blood?” I asked. My voice was thick, clogged. Damned lump.
“You were dead.”
“Since when has that stopped me?” I couldn’t quite manage flip, and the question came out like a plea.
Moisture pooled in his eyes. His lips worked, straining to create words. What he finally managed was “I love you.”
Those final three words broke the last of my restraint, and I launched myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck in a choking hug. His arms snaked around my waist, painfully tight. I pressed my face into his neck, inhaling his scent, feeling his sandpapery skin on my cheek. I wanted to burrow into him and never let go. We were twirling in a circle, and I laughed out loud. I hadn’t felt him lift me off the ground.
He set me back down and crushed his lips to mine. I opened for him and groaned under the bruising, possessive force of a kiss tinged with desperation and joy. Tiny shivers sparked through every nerve ending, awakening my sore, abused body in ways I’d forgotten were possible. Reminding me how very alive we both still were and were very likely to remain.
Nothing was settled. Boot Camp burned around us, and our exact casualty numbers were still unknown. The Fey hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks. Thackery’s hybrids were dead, the last of his known hounds were dead, and I’d just shoved a knife through his teenage wolf’s skull. Yet Thackery remained at large, possibly injured from the tractor-trailer wreck, and certainly about to be in a very bad mood over his latest failure.
I felt no pride in having once again tossed a monkey wrench into one of his carefully laid plans—only weariness at knowing he wasn’t finished with us.
If you can’t fight an infection, you remove the damaged limb.
Thackery wouldn’t quit until he’d either found his elusive cure or eradicated the entire vampire race. And we’d be there to stop him. The Triads were in ruins, but we weren’t destroyed. Wyatt and Phin were up to something, and they likely had been for a while. Their assistance today was well timed and raised a lot of questions: Did the brass know? The Assembly? Who else worked with them? Who was in charge?
I’d get the answers soon enough. We’d worry about finally capturing Walter Thackery in a little while. For now, the aftermath of the battle faded into the background, and nothing existed except us, in each other’s arms—a place I thought I’d never be again. A place I could stay forever.
Okay, realistically, given battle fatigue and other recent trauma, another ten minutes or so.
Or until we both started to smell.
Whichever came first.
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Document creation date: 14.8.2011
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