Once Bitten_Wolves of Hemlock Hollow

by Heather McCorkle

  He caught the second one and twisted my foot swift and hard. To avoid my leg getting broken, I went with the movement, spinning in midair and sprawling to the ground. Claws dug deep into my abdomen when I landed. Oddly, it didn’t hurt. I didn’t have time to worry about that right now, though. From a crouched position I kicked out at his left knee and connected hard, claws raking straight through his jeans and deep into his flesh. He cursed at me in both English and Icelandic, and paused long enough that I was able to launch to my feet.

  He stared at me with wide, dumbstruck eyes. “What the hell? You can extend your claws?”

  It was the last moment I was going to get. A kick beneath the chin sent him flying backward. He landed hard and writhed, but didn’t get back up. The almost overwhelming urge to follow him to the ground and take his throat in my teeth raged through me. The desire nearly made me shift, but then I thought about the reason for the instinct, and the need disappeared. I needed to stay in human form. With my claws and fangs, I had more of an advantage in this form than I would as a wolf.

  Something warm ran down my shin and my chest, distracting me. Blood, dark in the fading evening light, ran from a gash in my knee that showed enough bone to make me queasy. Heat drew my attention to my right side. Below my ribs four long gashes had torn open my tank top and were leaking blood in steady streams that darkened the waistband of my shorts. Those weren’t the worst part. Four wicked-looking holes sat below my ribcage. Damn. The world swayed. Ignoring it, I shifted my stance, hands held at the ready, and checked to make sure no one else stood in our way. The urge to take James’s throat in my fangs and make him submit completely didn’t leave, but I didn’t give in either.

  Steps pounded on hard ground, coming at a pace I wouldn’t be able to outrun even if I were willing to leave Ayra behind, which I wasn’t. Ayra stood over the still forms of two men, her naked chest heaving. Blood dripped from her hands and ran down from her lips to drip off her chin. I couldn’t think about what that meant. More were coming. Slowing my breathing, I turned to the door and prepared to fight again. The person that ran through it wasn’t at all who I expected.

  “Damn, Sonya. And here I thought you needed rescuing,” Ty said in a voice filled with relief.

  My arms sank down and the tension drained from me in a rush that left me feeling light-headed. His head turned as he swept the area, taking in the downed men. It looked more impressive than it was since I hadn’t exactly taken them out all on my own. They had helped with their little pissing match, but I was too tired to voice that right now. In fact, now that the threat was over, the room began to sway, a lot.

  “Ty…”

  The world fell out from under me, leaving only darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ty

  I registered the other people in the dingy barn, but they did not matter. Not the prone but breathing body I leaped over, not the groaning man in the corner, not even the dainty blond woman rising to her feet. Only Sonya collapsed and bleeding out on the musty hay-covered floor mattered. There was so much blood, dark and spreading its coppery scent throughout the barn. It surrounded her in a growing pool that I had no choice but to step in to get to her. Her eyes were closed and they did not even flutter when I knelt and pulled her carefully into my lap. The slow rhythm with which her chest rose and fell was only slightly encouraging.

  Up close the wounds in her abdomen looked so much worse. They had the scent of impending death on them. I did not know if new varúlfur could survive wounds like that. Helheimr, I didn’t know if seasoned ones could. Soft footsteps padded on the brittle hay toward us, but I could not look away from Sonya.

  “We cannot let her die,” said a level, feminine voice in what sounded more like a command than a statement.

  “I do not know what to do,” I whispered.

  Thunder sounded off in the distance. Sandaled feminine feet came into view. “I do,” said the female voice. I looked up at her, more because of her words than any sense of fear of a threat.

  Long, white-blond hair plaited into a loose, frazzled French braid hung over a dainty shoulder strapped with sinewy muscle, down across her meager breasts, and reached all the way to a thin waist. An almost elfish-looking face with high cheekbones gave her a slightly severe yet lovely appearance. Sapphire-blue eyes, filled with a sense of purpose and confidence that was slowly eclipsing the fear in them, looked past me. She regarded Sonya in a calculating manner that I did not like. Despite her delicate frame, the woman’s expression and stance made her look like a force to be reckoned with. More than that, it made her look like Frigg, the wife of Odin. She was not, of course.

  I instantly knew her for what and who she was: Ayra Valdísdóttir, now one of the most powerful varúlfur to walk the earth, the uppskera, or the reaper. The power rolling off her was staggering. Vidar had told me all about the legend during a phone conversation on my drive here. He had known exactly what was going on without me even having to mention Sonya’s mark, making me feel like a complete idiot for not calling him sooner. When I had finally reached him, he’d been in an airport on his way here. Since it was too late to warn me, he did not see the harm in telling me over the phone.

  I clutched Sonya closer and bared my fangs. “You will not take her from me. Odin help me, I will kill you or die trying before I let you finish her off,” I all but growled.

  From what Vidar had said, the uppskera was powerful beyond their appearance. I knew I would likely die if I tried to fight her. But I would do it anyway. My arms convulsed around Sonya. A brief flash of sadness lit Ayra’s eyes and she shook her head and looked to the side.

  “Already they fear me,” she said through a sigh. When she looked back at me any hint of sadness was wiped away from her face. “That’s not what I meant, Tyler. Bring her,” she commanded and promptly turned to leave.

  All signs of the hesitation she had shown while approaching were gone. She stood tall—rigidly so, almost—and walked with confidence, as if she had undergone a change in that short trip across the barn. But then, I suppose she probably had. According to Vidar, the uppskera was fully awakened by the touch of the leitar. Meaning, Ayra had likely just come into her full power. James had probably brought Sonya here for that reason. He had found out about her. Her bloodlines, the Cherokee pack trying to kidnap her, the signs were there for anyone who knew to look.

  James. Shit!

  I looked around as I rose with Sonya in my arms. He’d been lying over…somewhere. But he was gone. So was the other man who had been groaning in the corner. Finding and killing them would have to wait. Saving Sonya came first.

  “What can we do for her?” I asked Ayra as I followed her small frame out of the barn.

  Darkness waited for us. I had not been in there that long, had I? Then I smelled the moisture in the air and looked up at the pregnant, charcoal clouds. In the distance, flashes of light lit them in dancing spots from high above. Thunder rolled near the horizon. I knew before Ayra said it.

  “The lightning can heal her. We need to get her to the bridge.”

  The words forced my eyes in the direction of the bridge. I remembered all too well where it was. All important events involving the packs of Hemlock Hollow took place there to be witnessed by the gods. My Alpha had been killed there. The storm clouds seemed to be concentrating over that very spot. Flashes in the clouds highlighted the tree-covered hills now and again. It beckoned and taunted me at the same time. That was one place I had sworn I would never step foot or paw on again. One look down at the bleeding woman in my arms and I realized I would go anywhere for her, even Helheimr and back if it came to it.

  “My car cannot get through the forest and I do not think we will make it in time if I carry her,” I said. My voice broke, but I did not care. Much more of me would break if Sonya did not make it.

  Ayra strode out into the cloudy dusk with long steps that should have been impossible for a woman barely over five feet tall. She called over her shoulder as she went, “W
e’ll stop by my place and get my parents’ Polaris.”

  I nodded as she opened the passenger door of my Porsche. Gently as I could, I lay Sonya down on the leather seat. She groaned, and her lashes fluttered, but her eyes did not open. I put her seatbelt on to hold her in position then leaped over the hood of the car to reach the driver’s side. Hand on the door handle, I looked over the hood at Ayra. “I am sorry, I do not think you will fit in the car.”

  “Not necessary. I can cut through the forest and beat you there,” she said.

  One of my eyebrows rose in an involuntary show of disbelief. “I’m the uppskera, remember?” she said with a touch of irony darkening her tone.

  I did not bother protesting. It would take up precious time we did not have. I jumped in and pushed the button to start the car. As it roared to life Ayra took off like a bullet from a gun—literally so fast that one moment she was standing there, the next she was not. I had never even heard of a varúlfur being that fast. Once this was all over and Sonya was healing up, we had some serious research ahead of us. On the phone, Vidar had told me the seeker and reaper had faded from memory because there had not been one awakened for over three centuries. Which meant this was all new territory.

  I threw the car in reverse and tried not to whip back toward the road too fast. Sonya slumped over in her seat but did not awaken. It became painfully clear that being gentle about it was not as important as getting there as fast as possible. Gravel flew as I shifted and tore off down the road. An eternity seemed to pass before I finally pulled into Ayra’s driveway—though only minutes actually ticked by. Each minute was precious time as Sonya’s heart pumped more of her blood out. As I took her out, the roar of a Polaris motor sounded over the building storm.

  Not twenty feet away loomed a two-story Colonial-style house with massive windows that reflected the distant flashes of lightning. Two figures stood on the big covered porch of the house, arms around each other, watching. I nodded to them, having no words or heart for a greeting, especially since they stood there watching as if too afraid to approach and help. A big black and red two-seater Polaris screeched to a halt in front of my car. Ayra jumped out of it and my mind blew a little. My speedometer had rarely dropped below one hundred. No shortcut could have been short enough for her to beat me here on foot. Yet here she was.

  I did not question it or even overthink it as I sat Sonya in the seat and belted her in.

  “I’ll ride on the back to help hold her in place. Can’t have her head bouncing around too much,” Ayra said as she climbed on back.

  With her directing me, I found the path along her parents’ house that led into the woods. All the homes in Hemlock Hollow backed up to this forest, and all had paths—visible or scented—that led to that bridge. Normal towns had a hall or a courthouse. This one had a bridge. The deeper into the forest we went, the slower I had to drive to avoid the fire, pine, and hemlock that covered the mountainside. Their sweet scents poured down my throat with each breath. Moisture hung heavy in the air, making the smells stronger. They reminded me of a home and loved ones I had either left behind or lost. It infuriated me that I had to bring her back here, of all places, to save her.

  The trees flew by in a blur, but it did not feel fast enough. Rain began to pour down in big, fat drops that soaked my shirt through in moments. It soon made it difficult to drive by scent. The growing darkness ensured driving by sight was not much easier. Once we broke through the trees and the hollow opened up I was able to go mostly by memory. Every now and then a strike of lightning turned the hollow white, illuminating the massive bridge that spanned its hundred-foot depth. The bridge was made mostly of steel that had been treated to create an anodized rainbow effect that was admittedly stunning. At the bottom of the hollow, several hundred feet down from the center of the bridge, a stream cut through a bed of jagged rocks.

  Chills of anger, trepidation, and a noxious mixture of half a dozen other things I did not want to feel raced through me. I took the path that led to a ridgeline that ran up along to connect with the bridge. It was rough traveling across steep rock slick with rain, but I managed to keep the Polaris on four wheels most of the time.

  The trees and rocky incline soon made forward progress impossible. I climbed out and together Ayra and I maneuvered Sonya out of the roll cage of the four wheeler. Even when the rain pelted her face and ran down it in rivers, she did not stir. Fear threatened to drive me to my knees, but I would not let it. Clutching her to my chest, I started to climb. Her weight was so slight and I swore I could feel her grow colder with each beat of her heart. The rhythm was a song in my ears that slowly wound down as if each beat grew closer to her last. Shale rock gave way beneath my left foot, causing me to fall to a knee. Ayra grabbed my arm and stopped me from sliding any farther. I thanked her, but the sound of the rain punctuated by the occasional thunder covered my words.

  The world went white, then turned to sparks as electricity danced along the bridge not five feet from me. Ayra held up a hand, stopping me from stepping on the bridge. Heedless of the snapping arcs, she walked out onto the bridge without hesitation. They swallowed her whole. For a desperate moment I thought for sure it would kill her. Then the dancing arcs began to flow inward, toward the middle of the bridge where she stopped. She stretched her arms up to the dark sky. Lightning shot from her hands into the clouds. If flowed from the bridge, through her, and back up to the storm until every last crackle of it left the bridge. She beckoned to me.

  The moment the bridge stopped crackling, I strode out onto it. Ayra’s eyes sparkled as they took me in. Bumps rose all over my skin. It was as though Odin himself looked through her at me. I hoped he did, prayed for it, because if so, maybe he would save Sonya. I lay her at Ayra’s feet.

  “Get back…don’t know…keep it from striking you,” she yelled over the storm.

  I took one big step back, but that was as far as I was going. If it looked like this plan was going south, I needed to be close enough to stop it. One blond brow of Ayra’s rose and she shrugged. She knelt down beside Sonya’s prone form and began to chant in Icelandic. It was a prayer beseeching Odin. The skies rumbled overhead, but another bolt of lightning did not come.

  I took up the prayer with her. “Odin, I beseech you—” My next word was shattered by the thunderous crackle of lightning as it shot down from the sky and struck Sonya not five feet from me. My body hummed from being so close. Little shocks traveled up from the bridge through my feet. It felt like someone was driving nails into my feet, but I did not move. Nothing could make me leave her side. Ayra lay her hands on Sonya, right in the middle of all that crackling light. The bolt continued to flow down from the sky as if Ayra had hold of an endless source of energy. That thought started to worry me. Would it kill her if she held it too long? Would it kill Sonya?

  I moved a step closer.

  Suddenly, Ayra poured the lightning into Sonya’s abdomen. The pressure of it held me back no matter how hard I struggled. It was like trying to swim against a riptide. Sonya’s body lifted up off the bridge, her head hanging limp, long hair still touching the steel. I screamed to the gods. No matter what I said, promised, or threatened, Ayra ignored me. Hell, I was not sure she could even hear me within the pressure of the lightning.

  Slowly, Sonya’s body sank back down onto the bridge. The lightning faded to small, crackling snakes that moved across her and Ayra, then sank into Sonya. I stumbled forward as the pressure disappeared. Ayra rose to her feet and moved back a step. I skidded to my knees beside Sonya as her eyes fluttered open. The wounds in her abdomen were gone. The only sign they had even existed was the dried blood on her skin and torn clothes. Electricity crackled in her eyes the same as it did in Ayra’s. After a few blinks it faded away, leaving her amber irises slightly aglow. I pulled her to me, needing to feel her against me, solid, breathing, and real. Little snaps of electricity danced from her into me. I endured them gladly.

  She was alive. Nothing else mattered until Ayra said, “I
hate to interrupt, but we have company. A lot of it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sonya

  Ty’s warm, hard chest shuddering with ragged breaths felt amazing but didn’t make sense. A second ago I had been fighting James. My eyes flew open and I drew back from him. Cool rain poured down as if someone in the dark skies above were dumping a bucket on me. The metallic scent of electricity hung heavy in the air, as did the pressure of lightning. A residual buzz pumped through my entire body.

  “Did we get hit by lightning again?” I asked Ty.

  His red-rimmed eyes gazed down at me with so much emotion that they took my breath away. Rain had plastered his short blond hair to his forehead and molded his shirt to him. It seemed wrong that I could find him so completely hot in a moment like this, but I did.

  “Yes, you did, but you are okay now,” he said as he moved a wet lock of my hair from my cheek.

  “Where are James and the others?” I looked around.

  We stood on a massive metal structure—a bridge I think—with the woman who had been held captive with me. My wolf vision made out that the bridge spanned a deep hollow. Hundreds of shining animal eyes stared up at us from all over that hollow. Wolf eyes.

  “They are gone. We had to bring you here to heal you, they got away, but do not worry about them, we will get them,” Ty said.

  I turned to the small blond woman. She looked like a different person, a hardened one filled with acceptance. For a second I almost thought it wasn’t her. Then I felt the connection between us like an invisible cable. It was definitely her. But how had she transformed so fast? Myself, I was still trying to grasp exactly what had happened. My mouth worked with a dozen different ideas of things to say and ask, but none of them felt right. I settled on, “I’m so sorry my touch awoke something in you that you didn’t want.”