by Ann Gimpel
The vamp conversation died away, and the blue-eyed one glared at her and Stephan. “Today, we leave you unshackled. But we will be watching. One false move, and you both die.”
The dark-eyed vampire cackled. “Now that we know how easy you are to capture, we don’t need you.”
“Ha! We never needed them,” the third vampire cut in. “They were our experiment. One that worked, I might add.”
“Silence.” The first vampire made a chopping motion and retreated to the back wall of the cabin, squatting as he leaned against one wall. Blood smears from the animals he’d drained dotted his chin and jacket.
Sarai avoided looking at him. Would him having a belly full of blood make a difference? Were vamps who’d fed slower, more tractable? Stephan poked her and handed her another chunk of marmot. She chewed and swallowed mechanically, waiting for time to elapse.
What were the vampires up to? It couldn’t only be these three. Had they formed some kind of consortium with plans to crawl to the top of the magical heap? The idea was so ludicrous, she almost choked on the marmot. Vampires were ancient and a scourge, but no way could they take on all the magic-wielders living in North America, even if they sacrificed humans as collateral damage.
Enough people had watched Supernatural and some of the other paranormal television shows and movies to arm themselves with iron sabers and lop off heads right and left. For one exhilarating moment, she hoped it would happen. Hoped every single vampire would die a hideous death, never to be reborn as anything.
“Listen up,” her wolf said. “You can’t talk with Stephan, but I have no problem conversing with his bond animal.”
The implication hit her with all the subtlety of a runaway train. She muffled the gasp that wanted out, intent on not alerting the vampires anything had changed.
She had a way to talk with her uncle. Finally. To make certain, she cast a surreptitious glance toward the vampires’ part of the cabin. All three of them hunkered, looking like crows perched on a telephone line. None of them so much as looked up. Was her theory about feeding making them sluggish more than a lucky guess?
Stephan carved off more marmot, a benign expression on his face. Like many shifters, he didn’t age, and his hair was the same golden color it had been for his two hundred plus years. Blue eyes, an unlined face, and a powerful build paired with a kind and generous disposition.
“Tell his cat I love him.”
“He already knows,” the wolf retorted. “Stephan says this is your chance to escape. Once you’re outside, run like the wind. When we’re beyond the perimeter of their spell, we’ll shift and run even harder.”
She smothered excitement in case the vampires were keyed into her heartrate or blood pressure.
“Stephan isn’t coming,” her wolf went on. Them feeding from him means he won’t be nimble enough. He will only slow you down.”
“I’m not going without him.” Stubborn, protective, she drew a line in the sand.
“He says you must. You’re the only hope for our kind. Don’t you see, we have to warn everyone. Had we been warded, they wouldn’t have captured us.”
Sarai wasn’t so sure about that. Warding might have slowed the vamps down, though, allowed her and her family to shift. Her power was returning slowly, courtesy of raw meat and water. She judged the distance to the door. Roughly five feet separated her from its gaping maw.
She slitted her eyes, switching to her psychic view and hoping it wouldn’t alert the vampires she was up to something. Ley lines shimmered into view along with the black ropes of foul magic looped around her and her uncle. The rope was loose, but she bet it could tighten in the blink of an eye. If she timed it, leapt just right, she could avoid the rope snapping shut around her.
Sarai’s heart thudded. No slowing it down this time. She was going to do this. There’d never be a better time.
Unfamiliar magic blasted through the broken door, and a tall, broad man, naked body slabbed with muscle burst inside, an iron saber swinging. Dark hair fell straight as a stick past his shoulders, and his silver eyes blazed hot with fury. He avoided the rope so neatly, he must have seen it too and charged the vampires struggling to their feet. One swipe cleaved through bone and sinew, beheading the lead vampire.
“Come on!” Sarai shrieked to Stephan. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him through the door and out into weak daylight.
Nothing stood in their way, and they ran back to the road and then in the opposite direction from where they’d come. Sarai’s sides heaved. Sweat slicked her entire body, but she kept going.
“Shift!” Stephan yelled. The air around him liquified and glistened until a golden mountain lion stood in the midst of a pile of torn clothing.
Sarai didn’t hesitate. She gave her wolf its head. Together with Stephan’s bondmate, they left the road, hustling deeper into the forest. Now was a time to lose themselves. They’d figure everything else out later, after they’d made their way back to the ranch and Marie’s body.
Who had saved them? Another shifter, but one whose power wasn’t affected by the vampires’ poison. Maybe because the stranger had grabbed the upper hand before the vampires had a chance to get their claws into him. Her wolf’s tongue lolled. Unexpected freedom gave her hope there was a way to counteract the impossible after all.
“We need to find him. Thank him.” Stephan’s gruff voice rolled through her mind.
“We will. As soon as we honor our dead.”
“I am still weak, niece. We must hunt before I have the strength to return to my fallen mate.”
Sarai understood. She wasn’t at her best, either. Two dead rats and a few bits of marmot were all she’d had to eat in two days. “First game I see will be ours,” she assured her uncle. He’d taken her in after her parents banished her. It was the least she could do.
Chapter 3
A few hours earlier
Solidly entrenched in the scent trail that was doing nothing but growing stronger, Niall didn’t realize how close he was to his target until it was almost too late to avoid discovery. He slowed, careful to maintain absolute silence. If he remembered right, vampire hearing was nearly as acute as his own.
Rage had run hot once he understood vampires imprisoned two shifters, and anger always undermined his judgment.
Why weren’t the shifters fighting back? They were docile, almost as if the vamps had mesmerized them. He wasn’t near enough to sort out the fine points, but any shifter worth his magic should be immune to vampire mind control.
He dropped back until he was certain he wouldn’t be noticed. Once the group ahead of him—three vampires and two captive shifters—turned off onto a little-used side trail, he stopped and ran options through his mind.
If he could count on help from the wolf and mountain lion shifters, he’d charge the vamps. Problem was, he wasn’t certain the shifters would lift a paw to help him. If they were sunk far enough in the vampires’ foul spell, they might attack him right along with the vamps.
No. Moving forward as a jaguar was off the table. What he needed was an iron blade. Then he could return in his human body and behead these three monstrosities. He wasn’t at all sure what to do with the shifters once they were free, but he’d cross that street when he got there.
The wolf shifter was female and might have been striking if it weren’t for her slumped shoulders and straggly red hair that hadn’t been washed in days. She was tall like the mountain lion shifter, but slender, and her posture screamed defeat. It was a guess on Niall’s part, but the cat shifter smelled like a relative. Nothing so close as a parent, but perhaps an uncle or cousin.
Why hadn’t the mountain lion protected his kinswoman? Niall gritted his teeth in frustration. The tableau playing out in front of him would never have happened on his watch.
He backtracked a good half mile before summoning shift magic. Dawn was breaking. That little item would work in his favor. Vampires couldn’t tolerate daylight, which meant they’d gone to ground somewhere along that o
vergrown trail. Niall voted for a cave—these mountains were riddled with old mineshafts—or an abandoned hut.
Shit! The shifters had looked like little better than minions. How could any of his kinfolk, however distant, allow themselves to end up slaves to evil? Wickedness that had pulled the linchpin causing tonight’s deadly accident. Shifters were better than that. Vampires weren’t, but working on their own, they didn’t possess sufficient magic to craft the mysterious fog that triggered the crash.
He had a lot of unanswered questions. Anchored in his human body, he visualized his home and whisked himself there to collect an antique saber. When he’d decided he couldn’t part with a few of his treasures, collected over his long lifetime, he’d had no idea he’d actually need any of them. Crouching in front of the bedroom closet, he reached through magical shrouding and withdrew leather riddled with mouse toothmarks, unfolding it reverently.
Three long blades, a fencing foil, two hunting knives, and an oaken case containing jewelry that had been in his family for decades came into view. He selected the heaviest blade and wrapped everything else back up, placing it behind the enchantment designed to skewer anyone who dared disturb his cache.
He really should give the jewelry to some other family member, one more likely to pick a mate, but that was a problem for another day. He started to dress but thought better of it. Clothes would be an impediment if he had to shift, and he had no bloody idea what the two shifters would do once the vampires had been beheaded.
If they took their animal forms intent on fighting him, he’d have no choice but to transform into a jaguar. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, hoped he’d be able to undo whatever spell held them captive. Assuming he was able to counteract the curse that had turned them into senseless minions, he’d give them a solid piece of his mind.
It was unthinkable they’d allowed themselves to be seized in the first place. Had his kind grown feeble? Lazy? It had been years since he’d spent any time around other shifters, so he had no way of knowing.
A quick glance outside told him daylight was firmly established. At least it had stopped raining. Time to go. Opening himself to magic, he let it sweep through him as he returned to the spot half a mile from his quarry. He didn’t hesitate. No need for stealth now.
The vampires were trapped wherever they’d chosen for their lair. Bloodlust ran hot, and he hurried, engaging his psychic view after he left the dirt road for the winding track through thick timber. Branches crackled beneath his feet, but he didn’t waste time trying to be mitigate the signs of his approach.
The shifters should hear him. Maybe. From the looks of things earlier, they were so depleted they might not sense him moving toward them. He ducked and wove, avoiding overhanging branches and deadfall blocking what had never been a very well-made trail.
Any other time, he’d have enjoyed the rich pine scents and the springy loam underfoot. Shifters had an affinity for the natural world, as opposed to vampires who did their damnedest to destroy it. The trick they’d played tonight was typical vampire hooliganry. They didn’t see it as criminal. In their warped minds, killing was fun.
Niall bet the reason their distinctive stench had permeated the scene was because they’d snuck around draining who they could. Anger twisted his guts into a knot. He kept returning to the same place. Vampires were dicks, but shifter magic enabled them to execute tonight’s crime. He shut down that line of thought. He needed a cool head right now, and single-minded focus.
Vampires, not shifters. He’d deal with the wolf and cat later.
A ramshackle cabin came into view. Almost buried by deadfall, someone had burned a path through it and not too long ago judging by how fresh the tree scars and charred marks were. Odd the shifters hadn’t come outside. Surely, they sensed him.
Niall bolted through the channel of trees canting at crazy angles and ducked to enter the falling-down cabin. As he’d expected, the vampires were gathered as far from the entrance as they could get. Even better, they were sluggish to respond.
The wolf shifter cast a startled glance his way out of very blue eyes, but Niall ignored her and headed straight for the three vamps who were struggling to their feet. Not caring about a fair fight—there was no such thing where vamps were concerned—he swung the blade, enjoying the crunch as it cleaved flesh, sinew, and bone.
The vampire’s head rolled from his body, followed by a torrent of black ichor. Depending how old the abomination was, he’d deteriorate into nothing more than bones damned fast.
Behind him, the wolf shifter screeched, “Come on!” The sounds of her and her companion exiting the cabin heartened Niall. At least they had some spirit left. He could find them later. Now was the time to finish what he’d begun. One of the vampires grabbed his sword arm and sank his teeth into Niall’s forearm.
Niall pivoted, switched the blade to his other hand and sliced it neatly through the vampire’s bent neck. This time, black blood sprayed him, smarting wherever it landed. He’d have burns, but they were nothing, a small price to pay for the pleasure of ridding the world of vampires.
The vampire’s body crumpled to the dirt floor, but its head was still attached to Niall’s arm, and its ungodly blue eyes glared at him.
“Really?” Niall moved to Gaelic, stringing curses atop more curses as he flung his arm against a wall. The vampire’s skull cracked open like an overripe melon, spilling red-and-black goo in its wake. The jaws opened, and Niall shook himself free of the head.
The last vampire had scooted as far from Niall as he could get and remain next to the cabin’s rear wall. He extended his hands. “I surrender.”
Niall choked back laughter. “Really? I wasn’t aware your kind knew what the word meant.”
The vamp looked away, clearly past trying anything as shoddy as mind-control games. He’d figured out Niall wasn’t a chump who’d fall for such things.
“Go ahead. Make all the fun of me you want, but let me go.”
“I suppose you’ll promise to behave yourself forever, right?” Niall mocked. He loved having the upper hand, and there was no way the vampire was going to get away from him.
Both of them knew it.
He narrowed his eyes. “I propose a trade.”
“What kind of trade?” The vampire made a show of jauntiness, but his eyes flickered with uncertainty.
“How did you force the shifters to open their magic to you?”
“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
Niall nodded. “It’s the price of that freedom you want so badly.”
A combination snort and grunt rolled from the vampire, and he pushed upright, facing Niall. A fey light displaced the defeat in his eyes as he squared his shoulders. “My life is forfeit no matter what I do. You can kill me. If you don’t, I’ll walk past you out into the day, and it will finish the job. Your choice, shifter.”
The way he said shifter sounded like the worst kind of curse. Niall hefted the blade and swung a third time. This one’s neck was harder to cleave, which meant he was younger. The other two were smoking, stinking piles of bones. It might take months before this one was quite as decomposed. He stepped out of the way but wasn’t fast enough, and still more black blood coated him. It stank of rot and dead things lying too long beneath a hot sun.
Niall employed magic to gather what he could in the way of clues. Ropes of dark magic were unraveling fast in the area the shifters had been. It explained how the vampires had held them, but not how they’d tapped into their magic. What had the vampire said? His life was forfeit no matter what choice he made.
Did that mean someone else was involved in kidnapping the shifters?
He inhaled deeply, seeking clues, but all he smelled was vampire. The sound of a nearby creek drew him outside, and he trudged around the cabin to where water flowed down a tight ravine full of tangled brush. Kneeling, he washed his blade, setting it aside to dry before he stood in the creek and sluiced his body with icy water until no trace of black blood remained.
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He still smelled vampire, but with three dead ones not ten feet away, it wasn’t surprising. Picking up his blade, he returned to the cabin door still intent on making certain he didn’t miss something critical. Something that might help unravel how two shifters ended up captives.
“Give me a chance,” the jaguar demanded.
Niall was getting nowhere, and he didn’t have any better ideas, so he laid the saber aside and ceded their form to his cat. Amid whisker rustling, sneezing, and snuffling, the jaguar padded inside the cabin, making a thorough transit before trotting back outside.
“Whew. Stinks in there.”
Niall knew exactly how bad it smelled. “Did you find anything?” he asked.
“Maybe. I don’t want to influence you, but take your form back and check for mage energy.”
Back in his human form, Niall whistled long and low. Mage energy? If his bondmate was right and vampires had joined forces with mages, it was a disaster in the making.
He took a deep breath, all the way to the bottom of his lungs, blew it out, and did it again to clear his churning mind. Eyes closed, enhanced senses on full alert, he hunted for the telltale ping of mage energy. High and bright, nothing else in the magical realm felt quite like it.
A flare of magic that shouldn’t have been there teased him. He moved toward it, back inside the falling-down hut, and kept his nose close to floor level where the enchantment was strongest. Made sense if it helped trap the shifters. After he’d covered the dirt-floored hovel from front to back and side to side, he returned outside.
“Well?” the jaguar demanded.
“I believe you’re correct.” Niall adopted a formal tone. “If you are, it means we’re headed back into the thick of an old war.”
“I remember. I was there,” the cat reminded him. “Right along with you.”
Niall snatched up the blade. He needed to find the wolf and cat shifters, but first he needed to think. He balanced on the balls of his feet, impervious to small rocks beneath him or the chill wind blowing on his still-wet skin.