What if he couldn't? Who could? he thought morosely.
Jason watched Tony curl a paw around Cynthia possessively and Adi huffed into position. Jason was enjoying the fact that the wound he'd given Tony would be human-slow to heal since it was inflicted by another Were.
They began to move, speeding off into the woods. The strips of green that connected suburbia also connected to each other. Where there was forest, they ran, where they ran, the small creatures all around halted their lives of survival as the werewolves made way through the path of nature they foraged in.
The Were were the very top of the food chain and the animals of the forest knew it, deferring to their entry.
As they ran for the compound that housed their den, the detective that had been unconscious awoke. One word formed in his brain.
Pursuit.
CHAPTER 11
William
William slapped the palms of his hands together, Julia's fear, no- he corrected internally, her terror- fueled his strength. His finesse as a vampire warrior came to the forefront with a stinging clarity that shattered the skull of his torturer quite neatly, if bashed in brains could be considered such.
He had planned and executed the move perfectly.
When there were no runners to back him. Whilst Torturer was so certain of William's frailty his complacency drove him forward to mockery.
William was ready and leapt as Torturer leaned forward to whisper his sweet nothings in William's ear.
He never heard anything again, his ears mashed with the remains of his brain, unrecognizable to all that would have noticed.
None were there at present.
William gave a grim smile as he stepped over his sodden corpse, jerking the chain that was attached to his body which held the iron keys to relieve his cuffs of burning silver. The cool metal slid down the bare flesh of his forearms and his fangs pushed out sluggishly in response to the horrible stinging pain. His energy was so depleted that his fang response was the least of his worries. It would take special blood to relieve the stress of his healing. He needed to feed, and soon.
William heard the footsteps even though they made no sound and blurred behind the massive door as it swung inward and Merlin stepped through it. William didn't think, he reacted, as he had been trained for hundreds of years. He stabbed his talon when it burst the confines of his fingertip, simultaneously punching it through the slots of metal that crisscrossed through the airhole that was head height in the wood door.
It pierced the skull at the other side.
Unfortunately, Merlin was centuries older and twisted away, the hole at his temple beginning to close the wound. William slammed the door viciously against him as he entered. It splintered on impact and he moved around the door as Merlin was pinned against it, his eyes wide, struggling to move through the shattered material. William felt his fangs lengthen and all talons burst simultaneously, the last of his energy catching the scent of ancient vampire blood that coursed through Merlin. It ignited the flame of his survival instinct.
Ready for consumption.
Merlin flung the door off himself and slashed at William.
For all his age, Merlin was not a warrior, trained in strategy, hardened in battle. William parried with his talon, striking in a two punch dual hit, thrusting with the lead talon on his right hand and slashing as he did with his left.
Merlin's throat burst like a water balloon and William fell on the geyser that sprayed black blood like an oil strike. Merlin, the coven leader for the Southeastern Kiss, struggled against William at his throat but the battle was over before it had began.
William fed until Merlin's flesh and blood grew cold, his body exsanguinated. He stood, observing the corpse indifferently. With a final glance William turned to walk away, his body thrumming with the stolen energy.
Then he changed his mind, coming back to the corpse.
William gave a slow blink then struck the dead vampire in the face with his booted foot, breaking the skull open at the jaw. What was left of what had made Merlin vampire spilled out to join the remnants of the vile room of torture.
There, William thought, that is for costing me precious time to find Julia.
William left, metaphorically wiping his feet behind him.
When in reality the coven now belonged to him.
The Southeastern Kiss was his. Won by violence, beget by treachery.
*
Region One
The brothers were arguing and Julia stood wearily listening to them joke about the battle. Brendan and Michael stacked the vampire parts on a huge pyre, Brendan lighting small patches ablaze with his mind while Michael teased about what parts to burn first.
“I say light up their gonads, pal,” he said, raising a fist in the air in triumph.
“Shut up, Michael,” Jen said, trying unsuccessfully to give him the signal that maybe it had been a Long Night and he oughta cool it. Michael wasn't one for subtlety and he elaborated, of course, “Ya know, Jen, you're kind of a male-hater, I was thinking their torched dicks would work for you.” His brows popped and Scott gave a chuckle.
“I don't hate guys. Well,” she debated for a moment and Julia couldn't help but grin, “smart ones are immune to my assessment.”
Michael frowned and said, “Yeah, what I said earlier.”
“You agree then?” Jen asked innocently.
“Chick trap!” Brendan said, casually lighting the sightless head of the one that had tried to tackle Julia. She gulped as his face disappeared underneath the blaze.
“Goddammit! Where's the Negator?” Michael asked suddenly, dismissing the dis on his intellect, his hand covering his nose as he breathed through his mouth. “These vamps smell like ass and puke!”
“Here!” a red-headed guy said, awkward and skinny.
“Okay pal, can you do something about the smell?”
He frowned at Michael. “Hold on to your drawers, doofus.”
“Doofus?” Michael opened his mouth and Marcus said, “Enough.” His eyes met those of the red-head. “Paul,” he inclined his head.
The smell was the worst that Julia had ever known. Not because it was Eau de Burning Vampire but because it was close enough to the smell that permeated the air at the site of where her parents were killed that she stumbled away as the air got thick with it.
Still with death, heavy with rot.
Julia backed away and bumped right into a hard chest. She whirled around as Paul worked his magic on the smell and the air filled with jasmine and honeysuckle, though those scents weren't in season right now. Her nose deceived her, the vampires burned but the scent of garden blooms filled the air. Sweat ran down Paul's face, the concentration necessary for the falsehood was obvious.
Scott's arms snapped around Julia and she fought their connection, images of his battle lust and changed physique rising up in her mind. “I'm fine, let me go.”
Scott reluctantly did and they stood, staring at each other as Singers bustled around them in waves. “I can't help you when you resist everything Julia,” he said. Julia was struck by how helplessness was not an easy emotion on Scott. His frustration and lack of control were unraveling him moment by moment, even she could see it and she didn't know him that well.
All the more reason for her to leave. If she were gone, they could all move on.
Julia could move on.
But as Julia watched Scott search her face, she wondered how much of her basic emotions the soul-meld allowed through.
How much did he know?
Maybe too much.
Julia turned to go into the house and felt a warm hand on the back of her neck and comfort with a chaser of feelings of such perfect rightness bled through that simple touch that she shivered underneath it. Julia could feel him like a line of heat behind her. Every hair stood on end and it was everything she was, everything Julia could do, not to turn into him and climb him as he stood there. However inappropriate the urge was, it was there. It was real. Her intellect foug
ht with her instincts.
Something was going to win and she wasn't taking bets on what it'd be.
Scott thought again of all that Julia was wrapped up in that fiery package. Their connection flowed from her to him in that closed circuit that he'd never get used to. It ran through his body like an electrical conduit. Scott fought himself not to pull her against him and hold her.
He could feel the ghost of it from her as well.
Scott opened his mouth to ask her why she fought the pull. Was it Jason Caldwell? Was he still between them after two years and an attack that almost took her life? Or was it the vampire that had first acquired her that she had begun to care about at the very end?
Or was it both things, or neither? Was it the blood-binding of the two that made her flicker like an uncertain candle flame?
He tightened his grip on the back of her neck, the tiny bones biting into his palm when Angela said, “They're here.”
“Excellent,” Marcus said but not like he meant it.
Silent as a tomb three black SUVs pulled up in the great circular drive that had seen horses and carriages in the day but now served modern day vehicles. The flames of the burning vampires cast shadows against the vehicles that danced across the surface in an ominous pattern of disjointed shapes.
Julia turned, the warmth of Scott's hand lending her that false sense of security, making her itch to throw it off, itch to hold it.
When she saw who got out of the vehicles a small voice whispered that things had just gone from bad to worse.
Then a real voice confirmed her worst nightmare.
“Jacqueline,” Marcus gave the barest incline of his head in acknowledgment.
“Marcus,” Jacqueline smoothly unfolded herself from the first vehicle and strode forward, her outfit clinging to every feminine curve she had. She looked over the siblings, who had grown as still and quiet as Julia had ever seen them.
She put slim hands on full hips, blooming and ripe and Julia had to remind herself that this was Scott's bio-mom. Of course, one look at her and she would have known their relation to each other. Jacqueline had his dusky coloring, inky black hair and eyes that glittered like polished ebony in the light of the burning dead. “Where is the Queen?”
Marcus frowned. “I have sent you the notice we agreed on, it is all that I was required to provide.”
She stomped her foot and the troop of huge men came to stand behind her, their expressions varied. One in particular looked almost bored. She cocked her head and Julia moved back closer to Scott even though she'd promised herself to maintain distance.
Jacqueline intimidated her. Julia wasn't sure why. She was vaguely threatening somehow. “I want proof.”
“Jacqueline,” Marcus began, spreading his heavy palms away from his body in obvious supplication, “the manifestation of the ten Combatants is enough.”
She shook her head. “Perhaps she is but a high blood?”
“She is not, Mother,” Scott said and Julia cringed as those dark eyes found her.
Jacqueline began at Julia's head and worked down her body until she reached Julia's toes then worked back up again.
“This is she?” Jacqueline asked, aghast.
“Yeah,” Micael said, grinning evilly.
Jacqueline's eyes narrowed on him, expecting his deference and his grin broadened.
“Michael,” Marcus warned.
Michael rolled his eyes, huffing and folded his arms over his muscular chest, he was truly only in his element when he could make fun of others.
Julia found she wasn't complaining.
Jacqueline moved forward like a cat on the prowl and Julia stood her ground, the woman who approached filled with a confidence honed by centuries of living. The light from the fire caused an orange glow to move with her as she neared and the only thing that made Julia feel vaguely better was that Jacqueline probably wouldn't kill her at this moment.
Because Julia could see that she wanted to.
Oh yes, it was plain in her eyes.
For some reason, her fabled Queenie status wasn't a good thing for Jacqueline. Not. At. All.
They stared at each other and when Jacqueline was an uncomfortable foot and a half away, her eyes found a point near Julia's temple and the frown of concentration turned into a scowl.
Without turning she said, “She bears the mark,” in a flat voice.
“Yes,” Marcus said.
The men that had exited the sleek black vehicles came forward, each one a similar size and breadth to the male at her back.
And Julia had thought she was physically intimidated by Scott.
There were nine other men that stood, towering over Jacqueline and she stood amongst them, unafraid.
Utterly unruffled.
The one who had seemed indifferent leaned toward Julia and Scott's grip tightened for a painful moment on her neck and the man's eyes shifted from hers to Scott's. “You're hurting her.”
Scott lightened his grip and Julia could breathe again. She knew he'd just reacted to the other guy but hell, that'd hurt.
“What mark?” Julia asked the group. What in the hell were they talking about now? Her head spun with a new possibility. She didn't want any newness. She was about goddamned done with it. Like a hot dog. Like stick a fork in her done.
He recited in a solemn voice, “She will be bound by fang, claw and blood, the kiss of the moon on high against where she lays to sleep. The queen shall bear the mark of the peacekeeping Singer....”
“A queen to unite all with her blood...” Jen whispered.
“With our bodies we shield thee, with our minds we honor thee,” the quiet voice of the male continued where Jen left off, but it was Scott that finished. Julia listened in a daze of comprehension.
“And one shall close the circle of protection as her mate.” It had been said as neutrally as possible but it sounded like a challenge to Julia's ears.
“Singer blood shall reign forever,” Marcus finished into a great silence.
Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.
As Jacqueline's eyes narrowed to slits, Julia's hand rose and she touched the smooth, crescent-shaped scar she still bore from the accident so long ago. How many times had she absently stroked the smooth, white surface and thought of her parents?
How many times had Jason kissed it?
All the while it had been a mark put there by fate.
As dozens of sets of eyes looked at her, Julia knew it was going to get harder and harder to get out of this mess she was in.
She wanted to escape now more than ever. As she looked into Jacqueline's death glare, she thought it was escape or die. Not a matter of if but of when. Julia thought this woman was up to making it seem like it happened by accident.
A tragic reality.
Of Jacqueline's making.
*
Region One
Marcus had hoped that Jacqueline would not feel that she had to make an appearance. As usual, her timing was impeccable, she arrived just as the vampire pyre was in a hot tangle, Paul offsetting the smell with whatever floral combination he normally used for offensive scents.
Of course, it wasn't typical to wage vampire battles on the Blood Singer grounds. Where there were some supernaturals, there would surely be more.
Jacqueline looked at the fire burning robustly. “Who is masking the dead?”
Paul threw up a pale hand, his face still locked down in a mask of stern lines.
“Why did you receive vampires here? Where are your guards?”
Good question, Julia thought. She was more than a little relieved that the melting vampires were enough of distraction to keep Jacqueline's focus off her.
For the moment.
Marcus sighed and looked at Julia's two Singer guards. The ones that had followed her into the edges of the forest. Suddenly, Julia understood that if it'd been night, the two would not have been sufficient to keep her from harm. Those vamps would have had her.
And where was William? Julia
wasn't feeling the pain any more. She knew that Scott wasn't either. She shoved the empathetic connection away for the tenth time that day, her eyes looking over the newcomers.
The Combatant. Her Singer guard. There was one in there that would be her real soulmate. That was something she didn't want to stick around to find out who.
It could be Scott. What had Marcus said? Oh yeah, The blood chose. Julia looked down at the lace-like bluish veins on the underside of her own wrist, the pulse pushing the skin up in a steady rhythm. From the outside, it looked like everyone else's skin, veins.
Julia knew now that it wasn't. She was something else. Someone else. Prisoner of a destiny she didn't want.
“They came for her,” Jacqueline said, throwing a palm in Julia's direction, then jerking her head toward the fire.
“They did. She has a blood-binding to a vampire.”
“Magnificent, Marcus. When were you planning to reveal that? The Blood Rite cannot be rushed. It must take place when she is at the perfect juncture of her Awakening.”
Yeah, if I lived that long, Julia thought.
Julia looked at Jacqueline then gave Marcus a narrow glance. She just loved the hell out of finding out important information like this. If anyone could just tell her everything at once, she could sort it out as she went. Instead, Julia had to hear it from Scott's semi-crazy egg donor parent.
Great.
Who obviously was a Big Julia Fan. As evidenced by all the warm greetings.
A huge guy came up behind Jacqueline and said, his eyes on the darkest corner of the forest's edge, “Jacqueline, let us move this discussion somewhere private.” Victor's eyes sweeping the Singers that filled the yard, there were so many that the crowd of them almost touched the small lake where Julia had watched the swans only a week ago.
It seemed like forever ago when she was taken and subjected to... all that she had been through, her mind recoiling from the events of the recent past.
Marcus sighed, he'd hoped this day would never come. Yet, it had. Here were mother and son, the Combatant offspring manifested in the very outcome they'd hoped for when the coupling had been arranged. Marcus knew that in Scott's heart, Ruth was the only mother he'd ever known. That his cold natural mother from Region Two would not be someone he would be close to. If it had been allowed, Marcus would have bowed out. The arranged matings were archaic and dehumanizing.
The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance) Page 37