Savanna sighed. “That doesn’t make any sense, Mom. Can’t you tell me exactly what I need to do?”
“No, each witch must make the pact on her own. It’s something I can only show you—” She took Savanna by the arms, her grip almost painful. “You must have it in you to finish.”
Her mother ominous tone left her shaken all day. School vanished in a moment, a series of disconnected classes and conversations that she couldn’t remember. She was too afraid—no, too excited, she corrected herself—about what she would need to do.
Later that day, her dad drove them to the countryside. They used an old farmhouse for all their rituals. Her parents weren’t very affectionate with each other. She didn’t think she had ever seen them kiss. When her mom lingered outside the truck to whisper something into his ear, it surprised Savanna. Her parents were opposites to look at, and their personalities were just as different. He was native to New Orleans, with the dark skin, hair, and eyes of his Caribbean ancestry. He was warm and funny and had the silliest laugh Savanna had ever heard. She called it his “Goofy Laugh.” Her mom held Russian heritage, with auburn hair and green eyes. She was cool and regal and full of skill and wisdom. Savanna had always thought herself lucky. She was born with her dad’s skin and her mom’s eyes—but inside she felt more goofy than regal.
Savanna stayed behind with her dad as her mom disappeared into the barn. He had been quiet all day. Standing there in the late-afternoon sun, she felt a sadness come over him.
“It’ll be fine, Dad,” she said. “I’m sorry you can’t come in, but I’ll tell you all about it afterward.”
Her dad lifted her chin. “Listen, honey . . . there are things you don’t know about . . . life and magic . . .”
“Mom says she can’t tell me. She can only show me.”
He sighed and pulled her close. “Do well in there, okay? You have to, or everything I’ve done—”
“I know. I know. I can do it,” she reassured him. She hated to see him so worried. Tears filled her eyes, and she clung to him. All her confidence seemed as though it would fall apart. “I can do it. I can bleed enough for any spell, Dad.”
“Not this one, baby girl,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you. Don’t hesitate.”
***
Now
The wolf growled low in his throat. It reverberated off the parked cars to echo around the lot. Somewhere in the fading light, Ringo was hiding. He would hear the growl and know Victor was ready.
They waited for Demarco to signal that he was behind the motel. The witch was tricky. Somehow she had managed to move over a mile in the time it took them to get back on track the night before. A lone, frightened human shouldn’t be able to do that.
They had her now, though. No trick would let her escape this time. Illyana’s trinket pointed them to the second floor of this cheap motel on the outskirts of the industrial park. On the other side, Demarco waited to prevent them from crossing the freeway back into the city. Ringo watched the parking lot, ready to deal with any humans who interfered or if they tried to get out by car.
Victor would make the approach. Hopefully, she wouldn’t fight, and they could just be done with it. The whole thing disgusted him.
Magic. He could feel it in the air.
The stone stairs creaked under his weight. As a wolf, he stood over five feet at the shoulder. His body weighed a quarter of a ton, and he outmassed small cars. His powerful legs ended in razor-sharp claws that curved like swords. His teeth were just as sharp, and his canines jutted down like some nightmare saber-toothed wolf.
While he knew she was on the second floor, he didn’t know which room. For that, he would rely on his nose. Even after his failure to track her the night before, he was confident he could find her behind a door. The balcony that led to the doors was only wide enough for him by an inch. Each paw fall was as quiet as the one before.
The howl echoed around the concrete caverns. Victor growled. Magic was best dealt with by surprise.
***
The howl sent a ripple through Alexi, making the hair on her arms stand on end. It felt eerily similar to her experience the night before. She paused to listen, but nothing followed. When she turned to Savanna, she saw the girl crumpled in a corner, head in her arms.
“Savanna?” She bent down to touch Savanna’s shoulder, and the girl looked up. Alexi almost wished she hadn’t. The younger woman’s eyes were wide and terrified, full of tears.
Pressure pushed at the back of Alexi’s skull, the way it had the moment she had first awakened in the morgue. Instinct screamed at her to run.
“Savanna, who’s out there? Who is after you?” She took the girl by both arms and shook. “Savanna!”
The girl simply stared at her, eyes wide. Alexi grabbed Savanna’s arms and willed her to be calm. “Savanna, get a grip.”
Something surged between them like it had with the hotel manager, and Savanna’s eyes suddenly focused. “What—what was that?” Savanna stammered.
“Focus, Savanna. Who is hunting you? I need to know what we’re up against.”
“Werewolves.”
Oh, for the love—
“Werewolves, too? Okay, sure. How many?”
“Three. They’re big and fast and strong—they can probably smell us. That’s how they’ve tracked me so far.”
Beyond the door, the balcony creaked. Almost out of time.
“So they’re tracking you by scent?”
Savanna nodded.
“If they think you’re me, will they follow me?”
“Yes—but you don’t smell like me.”
“Can you . . . magic it? You know—” Alexi made a mystical gesture in the air. “Switch our scents.”
Savanna’s eyes widened. “I—I think so.”
“Do it now.” They had only seconds.
A sniffing sound came at the door. Alexi looked to the window. Fluorescent light from the motel sign shone through, and a large shadow fell across it. They were here.
Savanna’s hands shook as she pulled out her dagger and drew the blade down her arm. Blood welled up along the cut, razor-thin and four inches long. The smell hit Alexi, and she swallowed hard. With her eyes squeezed shut, Savanna muttered something to herself, and then looked up at Alexi with a nod. “It’s done.”
“Stay here. I’ll try to lead them off and circle back for you. We’ll meet at the playground three blocks west. If I’m not there in an hour, you keep going, okay? Don’t stop for anything.”
Savanna threw her arms around her friend. Alexi gave her a quick hug back and took a deep breath. She needed all her speed for this to work. If they got a good look at her, the jig was up. The wolf pawed at the door. She ran. Her body slammed into the cheap door with all the force she could muster, and it shattered. The wolf howled as slivers of wood penetrated his eyes and nose. Alexi scrambled to her feet. A massive paw gouged the wall beside her.
Damn.
They weren’t wolves by any stretch of the imagination. Wolves were thin, full of lean muscle. These were massive, hulking beasts in a vaguely canine shape. They had wicked claws and teeth, and skin that looked armored between patches of shaggy fur. They looked bulletproof and deadly as hell. Alexi scrambled backward in a crab walk to regain her balance. The wolf swiped at the remnants of the door. Alexi couldn’t see past his claws. She shook herself to action before he could maul her. She rolled backward to her feet and sprinted down the balcony.
Chase me, damn it, chase me.
The end of the balcony loomed. A parking lot rested below it and beyond that a sea of apartments and houses. She vaulted over the railing and shoved off. Alexi gasped as she sailed through the air. She had expected to land on the pavement a few feet past the end of the balcony, but her leap carried her fifty feet into the parking lot. She hit the ground with a grunt and a shoulder roll. Her feet were underneath her and moving before she even registered the impact.
The wolves were moments behind her. A shadow fell across the pa
vement to her right. It was so close she could hear it breathing. She looked in a car side mirror as she passed. He was twenty feet behind her.
If she could make it to the apartments . . .
Alexi dodged a late-night commuter. He blared his horn and flashed his lights at her. The wolf gained ground. A low hill led to the apartments. She scrambled up it, thankful for boots instead of bare feet. Something hit her from behind, and suddenly she was in the air. She hit the pavement hard, rolling three times before coming to a rest against a bin.
To hell with this.
All she had done since she had woken up was run, run, run. She was done running. Her hand closed around something smooth and heavy, and she pulled herself to her feet. A discarded sink pipe was her only weapon as a massive shadow fell over her. The beast growled—a low, rumbling sound that promised a painful death. A shiver rolled down her spine. The hair on her arms and neck stood on end.
“Come on!” she screamed into the darkness. A streetlight glowed behind the beast, robbing her of her night vision. She couldn’t see the other two, but she knew they were close.
The wolf stepped carefully to the side, and Alexi jumped forward. She swung the pipe with all her might. A massive paw hit her side just as a sharp yelp told her she had connected with . . . something. She grunted as she hit the ground. Claws dug painfully into her back, and she swung again blindly, scrambling back up.
She was on her feet before it recovered. Blood filled her ears, and all she could hear was the thump of her heart. Her vision narrowed a little. The wolf charged. She leaped. Her feet impacted its face, and the beast howled. It rolled to the side, bellowing at her in rage.
Alexi whipped the pipe through the air between them. “Not the helpless little girl you were expecting?”
Only heavy, ragged breathing answered her, and she wondered if it could even understand her.
“What are you? A poodle or a wolf?” she taunted. “Or just a bitch in heat?”
That did it. The beast roared and charged her. It was ready for her to leap this time. She didn’t. She ran straight at it, the makeshift club in both hands high above her head.
Bone broke with the impact. The dog rolled to his side unable to use his forepaw. Alexi grinned. Then pain in her abdomen blossomed. Blood poured from a wound that stretched from hip to hip. Flesh knitted and sealed as she watched, but it took its toll. Weakness spread through her limbs, dropping her to one knee. Hunger burned sudden and bright in her stomach. Her body used up everything Savanna had given her to heal, and now there was nothing left for her to fight with.
Damn it, get up!
She struggled to rise. It was in vain. The wolf in front of her sensed weakness. Growling came from all around her now. Her head spun; she needed to be on her feet. The pavement rushed up to her. Something unbelievably heavy pushed down on her back. She felt the claws dig into her shoulders.
“Let her up, Ringo,” a gravelly voice said, coming from the darkness. The wolf crushing the life out of her roared in response.
“I said let her up.” His last words were pitched so low she could barely make them out, but she could feel them. They rumbled through the air like a landslide. The wolf lifted its paw, and she could breathe again. She rolled on her back. The night sky looked down at her. The wounds in her back closed, sending a fresh swell of hunger through her.
Claws on pavement drew her attention. Ringo’s skin rolled off him like water. His whole body turned into a fountain of flesh that reformed itself into a marble statue with dirty blond hair and pink skin.
No, not a statue. A man built like one.
“She broke my damn nose, Victor,” said the statue, raising a hand to his face.
“You’ll heal. We’ve got a problem. Lift her up.”
He was just as strong in this form. His iron grip dragged her up to her feet. She caught a glimpse of Victor—taller than Ringo, with skin so dark it seemed black in the yellow light. She couldn’t make out much more—her head was ringing, and she was so hungry.
Once Ringo had her on her feet, he shifted his grip to her neck and held it in a vise. There was no getting out of this.
Savanna, please tell me you got away, Alexi pleaded silently.
I didn’t, answered Savanna’s voice in her head.
SEVEN
Two Years Before
The barn smelled of moldy hay and cows long since gone. The floor was made up of dirty wooden planks for her to draw her magic symbols on. Today there was only one large circle, drawn with chalk—she would draw the rest during the ceremony. Her mother’s coven all sat outside the circle. Savanna still wasn’t sure about her outfit. Her mother told her most witches did the ceremony naked.
That wasn’t going to happen. Few—no, now that she thought about it—none of the witches in her mom’s coven seemed overly interested in modesty. Or men. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? After today, it would be her coven, too, and she would have to ask about that.
Instead, she had boxer briefs on and a sports bra. She felt terribly underdressed. Her mom had helped her get ready by painting the appropriate symbols all over her. The dark red paint looked black against her brown skin. She felt sticky, but she was ready. Hours upon hours she spent preparing for this moment. She would draw thirteen circles of protection, the last one while kneeling. Part of it would be behind her, and she wouldn’t be allowed to turn around. Her mom had drilled this into her over and over in the days leading up to the ritual.
Are you ready yet? asked her mother in her head. One thing her family shared was the ability to speak to any woman who shared their blood. It was annoying that her mom could speak to her in her own mind. At least she couldn’t read it—that was something.
I’m ready. She pushed the thought into her mother’s mind.
After today, she would be a witch.
***
Now
Victor didn’t like being confused. There were two women: the blonde one that knocked him against the railing and nearly shattered Ringo’s skull with a lead pipe and the raven-haired girl, the one he thought was his target. She surrendered herself after the hellcat took off. His confusion came from the fact they both smelled the same.
Ringo dragged the blonde into the light and shoved her next to her dark-haired friend, while Demarco went to get the van.
“Search her,” Victor ordered. “I don’t like surprises.”
Ringo shoved the blonde up against the wall and patted her down. Then he spun her around and lifted up her shirt. “Vic, check this out.”
The wounds that Ringo inflicted were gone. Under the shirt was a stretch of smooth, unbroken skin.
“Explain this,” Ringo growled at the woman.
“You missed.” The blonde shrugged. “Your claws aren’t as long as you thought they were. Just like your di—”
Ringo backhanded her, sending her smashing into the wall. She crumpled to the ground with a hard exhalation of breath.
“Enough,” Victor growled. “We need them alive.” The blonde had a lot of fight in her—physically and otherwise. Bright, intelligent eyes flickered in his direction. They were filled with anger . . . and curiosity. Something about her intrigued him, pulling at his heart in the slightest of ways.
“Get her in the van.” Victor pushed the dark-haired girl toward Ringo. Reaching down, he jerked the blonde to her feet. “I can’t promise much,” he whispered to her, “but being eaten alive isn’t a great way to go. Don’t antagonize him.”
Her lips quirked up in the corners, and there was something maddeningly appealing about the gesture. “It’s not me you have to worry about, big guy,” she said.
It was hard not to like her. And that was a problem. He slipped his hand around her neck and pushed her toward the van. Either way, he had a job to do. Whatever his sudden surge of feeling was, he pushed it down. In all likelihood, both girls would be dead soon.
***
Alexi was starving. She had no idea where they were headed or what waited
for them there, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t good. At least Savanna was with her. The girl’s calm placidity had not yet worn off, and it soothed the rage and curiosity that seethed inside Alexi in tandem.
The white van contained two compartments, one for the drivers and another for storage. Alexi’s and Savanna’s hands were zip-tied in front of them, and one of the big wolf-things—Victor—sat opposite them. He’d pulled some clothes on at some point before their departure, thankfully.
The other wolf, Ringo, would have killed her without a second thought. Something about the look in his eyes was familiar. She’d seen that coldness before. Victor, on the other hand . . . he’d spoken to her gently as he put her in the van.
He isn’t doing this by choice, is he?
I don’t think so, came Savanna’s voice in her head again.
Alexi glanced at Savanna sharply. The first time, she thought she might have imagined it.
No, you didn’t. It’s a . . . gift the women in my family share. We can talk telepathically to anyone with our blood. Usually, that just means siblings or moms, but in your case . . . She felt a mental shrug.
Alexi looked sideways at her friend. Vampires, witches . . . and wolves. What was a little telepathy on top of all that?
Are these the people after you? Alexi asked silently.
Yes, them and the witch who commands them.
A witch? Like you?
Silence. The air hung heavy between them. Alexi could feel shame rolling off Savanna. She wished the girl would tell her. Since Savanna wouldn’t talk to her, she turned her gaze on Victor. The more she learned of magic, the more it amazed her. As big as he was—and he had to stoop in the van, so he was at least six feet four inches—he was tiny compared to the wolf he had changed from. The image of those fangs and claws would haunt her to her grave.
Victor caught her gaze and held it. There was something evaluating in his look, and she couldn’t decide if he was checking her out or sizing her up.
“How did you make that jump?” Victor asked. He had an appealing voice—deep and strong, like rocks falling. She could almost feel the sound vibrate through her.
With the Dawn (Faith of the Fallen) Page 5