by Amber Kallyn
She stared out the window, wishing she were in the darkness of the forest. “How is that possible?”
“I tasted your blood. You are not fully human. Perhaps the magic you used to calm me comes from that other part of you.”
Gritting her teeth, she said, “I am too human.”
He sighed. “I do not have time to argue with you. Too many of my people are missing, this time my own sister.”
His voice was weary, dejected.
She managed the courage to glance over at him. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I believe you had no memories of your time with Thomas, so why would you be helping his people now?”
Cautious warmth blossomed in her chest from his belief.
“But you can still help me.”
“How?”
“Try to remember more.”
Everything inside her cried out, no! She didn’t like what she had seen, didn’t want to see more. But thinking over all he’d been through, the loss of everyone he’d loved but for a few, she knew she couldn’t deny him.
His sister might despise her, but Dalia couldn’t not try. For Jordan. Because he needed her. She slowly nodded. “I will try.”
He knelt before her, took her hand. “Thank you.”
His eyes were nearly blue again. Jordan leaned closer and Dalia held her breath, afraid of seeing Thomas when Jordan touched her.
His lips whispered over hers, and thankfully, all she saw was his face. His scent wrapped around her in warm comfort.
He drew back. “I must go, try to find Fionah.”
“I know.”
Raising a brow, he said, “When I get back, we will finish our earlier discussion.”
The forcefulness of his voice made her shiver.
Chapter Ten
Jordan had been gone all night and day. As the sun set, Dalia’s stomach churned with nerves. Her hand shook as she brought the mug of warmed blood to her lips.
A bright red drop splashed from the cup and landed on the back of her pale hand. It dripped down her skin, leaving a trail of crimson she couldn’t look away from.
The guard in the doorway cleared his throat. Startled, she glanced at him, then around the shadowed, empty kitchen. It was time.
She set the cup gently on the counter and followed the guard through the silent halls of the castle. Dalia didn’t know where everyone was, but she greatly appreciated not having to stare down the other vampires living here.
Knowing what she would be facing in town, the thought of meeting the anger and hatred here seemed unbearable.
The emptiness allowed her a little bit of extra time to grasp at her composure and draw it around her.
The guard led her to a waiting car, opened the back door and stood straight, with barely a glance for her as she got in.
They drove down a winding road through the forest. She took one last look at the castle growing smaller behind her. The stone seemed almost black in the moonlight.
Her breath caught in her throat, while a ball of searing heat lodged firmly in place. Dalia wondered if she’d ever see it again.
Soon it was lost behind the trees. She faced forward, watching as the trees blurred. When they reached a main road, the guard turned onto it and sped towards a small, picturesque town.
They stopped in front of the Sheriff’s Station. Across the street stood a red-brick building casting an ominous shadow over the car.
The sheriff opened her door and held out his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and got out.
People crowded in front of the brick building across the street.
They stared at her, scowling, their eyes slowly turning a frosty blue. A few even growled.
A gust of wind blew over her and Dalia shivered, fear creeping through her veins and turning her hands ice cold.
As the sheriff led her across the street and toward the building, she searched for any sign of Jordan. He was nowhere to be found.
Her heart stuttered, then slowed, in direct contrast with the panic trying to claw up her throat.
“Let’s go inside,” the sheriff said kindly.
She numbly followed him into the courthouse, down a short hall, and into a court room. The sheriff stayed by her side until they reached the left front table. He pulled out a chair for her.
She dropped into it, thankful to be off her weak, shaking legs.
The sheriff left her, pushing through the gate and striding up to the long judge’s bench, and a door behind it. The door swung open and Conner, with another man, came out. All three sat behind the bench, the sheriff in the middle.
The door behind her crashed open.
In her chair Dalia jumped, then twisted around. Three older men shuffled inside, making their way to the table opposite her own. Wolves, in their human form.
Even more people pushed into the room, until the benches overflowed on the wolves’ side and others lined every inch of the walls.
Dalia turned around and stared at the judge’s bench, trying to ignore the quiet emptiness of the space on her side.
The sheriff leaned over and said something to Connor, who sent her a sharp glance. He whispered to the sheriff then stood and went out the judge’s door.
The room slowly quieted as much as it could with such a large crowd behind the wolves. Shane banged the gavel on the bench, then listed the rules, including silence from anyone watching.
Groans rose at the pronouncement, but no one objected.
Two long minutes later, Conner slipped back inside. He sent Dalia a sorrowful glance before taking his seat to the left of the sheriff.
The rough looking man on the other side gruffly demanded, “Can we start, all ready?”
Conner shrugged. “Patience, Dexter. A few minutes more.”
The other judge turned his ice-blue gaze toward Dalia. His upper lip curled, revealing small, sharpened teeth. Even in human form, his features hinted at wolfiness.
She rubbed her chilled, trembling hands together beneath the table. Her heart beat constantly thumped against her ribs. Breathing was difficult, her throat so tight and painful.
Jordan had said he believed her. But he wasn’t there.
How was she going to defend herself in the face of such blazing hatred coming from the bench, and the right side of the room? It was overpowering. Panic crept up her spine, making her want to slide to the floor and hide—or flee from the monsters in the room all ready to attack.
She had no defense, only her claim of innocence. No proof.
No hope.
She was about to be judged, and it was her very life on the line.
Her heartbeat slowed to a dull thump, defeat burned at her eyes. Her throat tightened further, and heat built there as well.
She would not cry, damn it. She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms. The pain broke through the melancholy shadow tightly wrapping around her.
The pain and heat eased back, as did her panic.
She would make it through this. Somehow.
“Let’s begin,” the sheriff said, shooting Dalia a sympathetic glance which helped her calm even further. “Carl, as Alpha of the wolf pack, you have the floor first.”
A tall, muscled man strode up the aisle. His face and arms were covered with scars, white hair swept over his shoulders and down his back. He stopped near the right table, glaring at Dalia.
“This... woman,” he sneered, “was with the vampire, Thomas Montgomery, when he came to town, killing and maiming any of the Arcaine he could get his hands on. Six of my wolves died, and two others will likely never recover their minds.”
He bowed his head. “It will be my duty to put them down.”
Howls rose from the benches and one woman began crying.
“Even now,” Carl continued, “wolves are still going missing. This woman has to be responsible.”
“I’ve been told you have proof she helped him,” the sheriff remarked, his
voice toneless. “We would see it.”
Carl nodded and waved to the crowd.
A girl around ten years old stood up. Her long red hair was pulled back in a pony tail, exposing a ragged scar on the left side of her head where her ear should have been.
She limped up the aisle, eyes cast down. When she reached the Alpha’s side, she glanced at him, then back at the floor.
“This is Annie. She would have been the pack Omega. Now she is ruined,” Carl stated.
Howls of fury rose in the room.
Dalia glanced around, wondering what an Omega was and why it made everyone so angry.
Carl pushed the girl forward, sending her stumbling a step. “Tell them what that woman did to you.”
The girl shook, clasping her hands in front of her stomach.
The back doors banged open and everyone turned but Dalia. Until she smelled him.
Time slowed. She glanced back, heart racing with a tiny flare of hope as Jordan strode towards her. He slid past the table, bending down to whisper, “Sorry,” before leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. His hard stare raked over the wolves on their side of the room, then froze, hot and angry, on the alpha.
The sheriff shot Jordan a glare before saying, “Continue.”
The girl sniffled, and began to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.
* * *
Jordan watched everything with a critical eye as the girl told of tortures committed by Thomas. Dalia’s eyes, which had lit for him when he arrived, grew dull with pain at the child’s tale.
Her face whitened beyond pale.
The urge to comfort her somehow swept through him. He wanted to deny it, to remain unemotionally touched, but he couldn’t. Not with her.
Nor could he show softness toward her. The wolves would pick up on any hint of weakness, then plot ways to use it against him.
Her fear and concern for the child permeated the air. He struggled to pretend he remained untouched. Jordan glanced from her face and stared at the wolves nearest to Dalia.
Startled, he looked closer.
Their faces were turned from the child telling her horrific story. A few stared right at Dalia. But it wasn’t anger on their faces. Instead, they seemed sorrowful, as if they too wanted to comfort the woman at his side.
He straightened, baring his teeth. Two wolves flinched and turned away, but the rest didn’t even notice him. They continued to stare at Dalia as if wanting—needing—to protect her from all and any harm.
“You have told us what Thomas did to you and yours, but not the woman.” The wolf judge glanced down at some papers. “Dalia Jensen. Tell us what she did.”
The girl shivered. “S-she... was the one who tied me down and did t-this...” the girl’s hand shakily rose and hovered near her missing ear.
Dalia’s eyes widened, shining with wetness as she wordlessly shook her head. Jordan could feel her horror at the girl’s story, at the very thought.
And he knew to his core she would never willingly do anything of the like. But the question was, had she been forced to do it? How could he prove it?
He slumped further against the wall, hiding his tiredness. How was he to find answers for her, when he couldn’t even find his sister, or the other missing vampires?
“How do you know it was the woman sitting there?” Connor pointed at Dalia.
“H-her h-hair,” the girl whispered. “P-pink.”
Dalia stiffened, slamming her hands on the table. Shane and the judges turned, their eyes widening. Jordan stepped forward to see Dalia’s face.
She was still pale, but her eyes had rolled back, only white showed. Her lips pressed together so tight they disappeared. Her canine’s had extended and slipped between her non-existent lips.
She shook her head. Once... again...
Then her body trembled. The wooden chair she sat on rocked side-to-side, creaking as wood splintered.
On the other side of the room, wolves rose and inched closer. Again, their eyes held worry and concern for Dalia.
Again, it threw him.
He reached for one of Dalia’s hands, which was clawing against the table. Before he could touch her, she slumped back into her chair.
Whatever had been happening was over.
A long moment of silence passed. Then Shane cleared his throat.
Connor cleared his throat. “Jordan, are you ready with your defense?”
Dalia met his gaze, eyes wide. She needed to tell him something. He didn’t know what the hell just happened, but he would figure it out.
Now, he had to have time.
Straightening, he said, “We need a day.”
A couple wolves on the other side howled, but the three judges held up their hands and bent together, whispering. Finally, Shane faced the crowd.
“Due to recent circumstances I’m aware of, this trial will be postponed for twenty-four hours. Tomorrow night, we will finish it.”
The wolves broke out in angry cries, but Shane banged the gavel.
Jordan took Dalia’s hand and hurried her out of the courthouse to one of the cars he recognized as his. As he sat behind the wheel, exhaustion swept over him.
“Did you find your sister?” Dalia asked.
He shook his head wearily.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I will.” Nothing else was acceptable. “What happened to you in there?”
“I remembered something when the girl was talking. I think it might help.”
“Tell me.”
She gripped her hands together. “I was chained in a room, forced to watch as Thomas tortured someone with a hot poker.” She shivered. “He kept laughing, because after he burned the person, they healed and he did it again.” She fell silent for a moment.
Sorrow stirred in Jordan’s chest for all she’d been through.
“Anyway, I remember the room started to shake and a whistle blew three times. I think it was a train. Finally, the shaking stopped, but I could still hear the train, like it was nearby.”
Jordan sat straighter, a burst of energy rushing through his blood. “The depot. I have to talk to the sheriff. I’ll have someone drive you home.”
Dalia looked like she wanted to protest, but she nodded.
Jordan got out of the car and waved one of his guards over, gave the command to take her home, then went in search of Shane.
The Keeper of the peace stood just outside the courthouse doors. Jordan waved him inside and told him what Dalia had remembered.
“So, her memories are coming back?” Shane scratched at the scruff on his chin. “Hopefully she’ll get a lot more by tomorrow night.”
“Is the depot on your list of Thomas’ hideouts?” Jordan asked.
“No.” He glanced around. “I assume you want to check it out with me.”
“My people may be there.”
“All right. But only since I couldn’t hold you back if I tried.”
Jordan grinned humorlessly. He followed Shane out to the man’s black pick-up truck and got in. Shane pulled out and sped down Main Street.
They reached the train depot and began searching the buildings.
Jordan found it first. “Here,” he called.
He glanced around the room, ignoring the stench of blood and rotting flesh. Torture devices were built into the walls, bolted to the floor. A fire pit lay in the middle of the room, circled by three long metal tables with chains still dangling.
It was a good torture room, Jordan thought, though this one had been used for evil.
Shane came in behind him, his breath coming out in a whoosh. “Damn, I’m glad I killed that bastard.”
“As am I,” Jordan replied, though he would like to resurrect the vampire solely to kill him again for everything he’d done to Dalia.
“There’s no one here. It hasn’t been used in a while,” Shane stated.
“No.” But it left Jordan frightened at what his people, his sister, might be suffering.
Shane slap
ped his shoulder. “We’ll find them. And you know Fionah. She’d rip anyone apart who tried to hurt her.”
“I know.” Yet, he still worried. For all she seemed strong, there was a hidden fragility beneath his sister’s surface.
“Go home. Sleep at least a few hours. You need to be sharp tomorrow.”
He wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he did need to talk to Dalia. See if she could remember anything else, other places she’d been held. Anything that might help them defend her the following night. Otherwise, he might be losing her, too.
His chest flared with heat.
Jordan didn’t know if he could live with losing Dalia. Not now, not ever.
Chapter Eleven
Jordan strode up the stairs, his feet dragging. Worry and weariness ate at him. He stopped at Dalia’s door, debating whether he should try to talk to her. She was probably sleeping.
He turned for his own room, but her door swung open.
“Jordan? Did you find them?” she asked.
He spun back, trying not to notice the way his blue silk shirt she wore revealed every curve. Her legs were bare from mid-thigh down. And her toenails were painted pale peach.
The thought stopped him in his tracks.
He’d never noticed a woman’s nail polish before, but it made her feet look delicate.
He dragged his gaze back up her body, meeting her blue-green eyes.
“No. We found the place, but it has been long abandoned.”
“You’re tired. Come in.” She stepped back, holding the door open.
Unable to resist her siren call, he stepped inside.
Dalia moved to the bed and sat on the side, watching him with concern. He trudged over and sat beside her, leaning against the headboard.
“Have you remembered anything else?”
She shook her head, the tips of her hair brushing the creamy skin of her shoulders.
Jordan blinked, wondering where these fanciful thoughts were coming from. Perhaps he was just more tired than he had been in a long while.
There was so much going on right now, he had the right. Between needing to find his people, protect Dalia, and watch the wolves for their usual treachery, he was exhausted.
Dalia slid her legs up, curling them beneath her as she faced him. “Do you know any way I can, maybe, force the memories to come back?”