by Ruby Raine
Someone walked up and rolled up a sleeve. “Take mine,” she offered.
“And mine,” said someone else, sidling up alongside the woman.
Mack nodded in approval.
This would work. She told Alex to get anyone willing, to start donating.
She continued to force blood down William’s throat.
With every pint, the vampire started to heal.
LUCAS DRAGGED RILEY away from the crowd.
“We got William help. We have done all we can do here. I think it’s time for us to leave now.”
Riley tossed his gaze between his brother and White Pines, where he knew the battle still raged. Melinda’s fate, or anyone else’s, unknown. She would never forgive him. They were over. But he wanted the chance to apologize. To make sure she was okay.
“Riley, we can’t do any more good here,” argued Lucas. “If we stay, we are bound to make things worse. I say we go home, pack and leave the Isle for good. Coming here was a mistake. I’m sorry I dragged you here.”
Riley was torn. Every act since the Feyk spell had taken him slammed into his mind. Every word. Every look. Every spiteful moment. Melinda’s reactions to those things. To what he said, and did. To her. To William.
Apologizing was such a weak gesture. It almost made sense to leave. To let her live in peace without having to look at him ever again. All she’d see when looking at him was the guy who hurt her, so very very badly. The guy who betrayed her trust in just about every way imaginable. The guy who almost became a murderer.
It was only Melinda’s sacrifice that kept William alive. The only reason he did not have to add the word murderer to his sick list of accomplishments. He did not deserve forgiveness. He did not deserve Melinda’s forgiveness. And she deserves to never have to look at me again.
It was weak to run away and not face them. To face her. He was the weak one. Perhaps if he’d been of a stronger mind, he could have fought the spell.
Still, with all these thoughts, his heart ached to tell her how sorry he was. To figure out some manner to make it up to her. To know if she was okay. Or even alive...
“Wh-what about Lizzy?” Riley asked in a hushed tone.
“Her choice.”
Riley closed his eyes. “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s leave.” It pained him to do it, but it was the right move. They could not stay on the Isle.
Lucas grabbed his arm, the motion meant to tell him it was the right decision.
“We can’t be around magic,” Lucas said. “Our family is cursed. We need to find a place that’s magic free.”
Neither had any idea where that was, but vanished into the night hoping they’d find it.
WILLIAM SUCKED DOWN the donated blood ravenously. His body waking. Healing. The healthy blood searching out and destroying the werewolf blood. Sealing his wounds. Rebuilding his flayed skin.
His eyes flew open, staring upward in pitch-black orbs. His muscles strengthened and flexed in attempt to move freely, a seething hiss snaking through his fangs.
The savageness of his face frightened the blood donors.
“It’s all good,” Mack told them calmly.
They backed away just the same.
William struggled to free himself. Mack called out his name. He heard it, and yet it sounded muffled. Distant. She kept trying. After a minute, her voice became clearer.
“Can you hear me, William?”
He stammered out a yes.
“Good. Don’t try moving. Got you tied down anyway... for all our protection.”
He lifted his head, seeing his bonds. He understood Mack’s concerns. The wildness surging inside him threatened to surface at any moment; his cravings intense. His senses on alert.
“Are you cold?” Mack asked him.
“Vampires do not get cold,” he spoke evenly.
“Didn’t figure, but seeing as you came out of the woods nearly naked...”
He glanced down again. His clothes had been burnt, there wasn’t much left. He didn’t care about that.
Memories flooded him. His agonizing fall from the pyre. Drinking from both Melinda and Emily, chasing his prey into the woods... “Eva,” he snarled. He’d watched her take her final breath, but had gone unconscious right after. He struggled under the bonds, trying to break free. If he’d been at full strength, he might have succeeded.
“Eva Jordan is dead,” Mack informed him. “Simmer down now, William.”
He stopped, turning his head to face her. Calm. Yes. He needed to do this.
It was difficult though, with all the fresh human blood coursing through his body.
“Eva is really dead?”
“Yes,” the sheriff confirmed.
Slowly, the blackness in his eyes dissolved to emerald, slicing off a piece of the wildness in his appearance.
“And everyone else?”
Mack lifted her head to look into the park, turning back and shaking her head. “I don’t know, William.”
He heard it. The sounds of battle raging on. “I have to go to them.”
“You’re still healing,” argued Mack. “And frankly, I’m not sure I can trust you right now.”
“I will not hurt anyone.”
“Can you guarantee the safety of everyone here?” she asked him, doubtful. “You’re pretty high on human blood right now, William. You know I have to take that into account, as much as I’d love to let you go.”
He leaned back, peering into the night sky watching periodic light bursts exploding overhead. His inhales and exhales getting heavier as the sounds of battle weighed on him.
“Do you want more blood, William?”
“It’s enough. I’ll heal.”
“Okay.”
“I have to go to them,” he persisted. “They need my help.” It’s why he drank Melinda’s blood in the first place. Why he’d accepted Emily’s. He’d finished off Eva, but the rest of the family was still in danger.
The last time William had seen Melinda she was being dragged off by the Feyk. Barely conscious because of his inability to stop drinking. He’d taken too much from her. She had already suffered so much before that. How much could her frail human body take before she... he closed off the thought with a desperate groan.
The healthy blood gushed through him, making him stronger. Filling each sinew with rigor and wildness. Making him whole again. The need to get free dug into his bones. The Howards needed him. Melinda needed him.
Thinking of her both calmed and strengthened him.
Her words, her confession. Her lips. In the agony of the moment her blood had saved him, but her lips were the most delectable thing he’d ever tasted. And she loved him. She had spoken the words.
Hearing them, and not being able to say them in return, was more painful than any of the attacks he suffered from Riley Deane. Not being able to free her. Or protect her. Physically, she’d been injured. But mentally and spiritually she had been broken. The level of spite and hatred she’d been subjected to... he’d heard every word exchanged between her and Riley. The fury over this was hard to control.
It wasn’t Riley’s fault, and he did not blame him.
William knew where to lay the blame.
What concerned him more was what had happened to Melinda before, to the pathetic excuse of a man that had treated her in such a disgusting manner. If he ever found out who this was...
And the part where Melinda blamed herself for what happened to him. He was equally to blame for pushing her away. Thinking it was better to ignore his feelings for her. To drive her away from him. They could not be together, but he saw now that he should have handled it so much differently.
And after all of this, she’d saved him. Freed him. Knew exactly what to say to force him to take her blood. He lived because of her. The thought that he had taken too much stung at him.
He refused to just lay here and heal while she still suffered. He had to get to her somehow. He reached out to her through his mind. She was far away from him, but he had to t
ry. He gasped when he fell into her mind, easily.
Still alive... she’s still alive. Weak. So weak, but her heart still beats.
“Melinda,” he spoke softly into her mind.
She let his name slip off her tongue, in a weakened exhale.
Her eyes fluttered open.
William could see through them as if they were his own. Her head was on the ground. Spindly legs surrounding her.
Feyk.
Not family.
I’m coming to get you, William told her.
She pulled at the ground, trying to get to her knees.
Don’t try to move.
She stopped, her strength not enough.
“William...” she uttered in a voice so desperate and weak, it sliced him in two.
He shifted underneath his bonds. Flexing. Needing to get free. Fury building, strengthening his muscles.
He heard Melinda cry softly as bony fingers grabbed at her. Defiling her with their touch.
A frenzy of hatred expanded inside him.
Melinda’s voice echoed into his mind. “I don’t think... I’m going... to...” the connection broke.
William’s eyes burst open, a frenzy of deadliness erupting in his pupils. His blood boiled, pulsing with anger.
“William,” shouted Mack. “You’d better...”
His fangs dropped, his eyes warning her to stay away.
“Everyone get back,” she ordered.
“She’s dying,” William’s voice exploded.
“Who’s dying?” demanded Mack.
“I have to save her.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer.
With a final thrust and enraged cry, his bonds shattered.
The bed flew backwards, the white sheets torn off, propelling into the darkness.
Everyone spun around searching for the vampire, but William was gone.
THE AIR WAS GETTING thick with smoke; in part by the Feyks constant materializing and dematerializing, and in part to the barrage of spells being shot from and against both sides. Debris flew through the air; leaves, branches, tree bark, trees...
Stricker had yet to lift a finger in the battle, other than defending himself the one time a spell misfired in his direction. He watched from his perch atop the embankment.
Jack ordered everyone on his side to get to the doorway. He was hoping to get them all inside, where he would close the door and they’d be safe, to wait out the Feyk. Once the Feyk discovered that Jack had left out a vital step (in how to open the door), they’d give up and retreat... he hoped.
This was the only part of the plan they’d left up to chance, as they just didn’t know what the Feyk would decide.
Michael had Emily (Eva) behind him. He was relieved she was awake, but she was unable to assist in the battle. He told her to go through the doorway and wait for him just inside, telling her she’d be safe there.
Eva/Emily turned around and stepped in. “Gladly,” she muttered smugly. She tried not to smile too hard; she didn’t want to give away her secret just yet.
Lizzy shot off spell after spell alongside Charlie, trying to drive the Feyk back and reach Melinda. The Feyk had nabbed her and dragged her out of their reach.
Charlie had let his human form take over again, his focus intent. And sublimely thankful to the woman fighting by his side for bringing him clothes. He’d only had time to slip on a pair of shorts, but this was far better than the alternative.
Michael aided his father, just outside the doorway, hoping Charlie and Lizzy would succeed and be able to rescue Melinda and get inside.
Jack stared down the Feyk. He wasn’t going to leave his daughter out there. But the plan was starting to unravel. They were outnumbered, and Melinda was surrounded.
“Stop!” the command came from Stricker.
Everything went quiet, his Feyk army obeying at once.
The Isle’s fireworks show had ended, but booms still exploded from the tourists still shooting off their own collections.
They could hear each other’s heavy breathing and hearts pumping.
Lizzy grabbed at her potion belt. “Damn it. I’m empty.”
“We’ll have to fight our way through their line,” said Charlie.
Lizzy nodded in curt agreement. She untied her small magic handbag. “Unclasp my potion belt,” she told him. He reached over and slid his arm down her back until his fingers gripped the belt, unhinging it. He slid it off, letting it slink to the ground. She did the same with the one around her waist, needing to be mobile as possible. She quickly secured the handbag to a belt loop.
Stricker left his perch, sauntering down the embankment to the battlefield. His Feyk army stepped aside, making a path for him. He stopped in front of Melinda and gazed down at her.
“Hard to say whether she’s dead, or alive. Shall we find out?”
“You. Will. Not. Touch. Her.” a familiar voice snarled out in warning. Stricker looked up to see the villainous eyes of William Wakefield staring him down from the crest behind the Howards.
The Howards and Lizzy turned, needing to see him with their own eyes. The vampire was healing. His clothes singed off his body, a few sickeningly obvious injuries, but alive, and on the mend.
“I thought we killed you,” Stricker tut-tutted. “If you’re alive, I guess that means our shifty friend met her untimely end.”
William snarled his answer. “And you’ll join her if you so much as lay a finger on Melinda Howard.” He crouched, his body taking on a feral stance. The animalistic pose of a hunter prepared to attack its prey.
The Howards had never seen William in his true form. A dangerous predator... just the same, they were relieved beyond words to see him alive and healing from the torture he’d endured.
William’s eyes met Lizzy’s. “Your brothers are fine,” he answered her unspoken question. He watched relief wash over her.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
William peered down below him, meeting the gaze of Jack Howard for the first time since his return.
“Hello, old friend,” said Jack.
William nodded. Only a fleeting moment of shock at seeing him alive. There’d be time to catch up later. His focus intent on one thing: Melinda.
“Just in case my point was not clear, Eva Jordan is dead. I killed her.” He gnashed his teeth at them as if to warn, you’re next.
Charlie felt a mix of emotions. Part of him relieved Eva was gone, part of him angry that he didn’t have the chance to confront her again, to kill her himself.
Eva/Emily grinned, from just inside the doorway underneath the old tree.
William caught it, noting the darkness behind it, but understood it. Her father’s death had been avenged. He was surprised to see her looking alert though. When he’d left her, she wasn’t far off Melinda’s condition.
Eva/Emily really grinned for another reason, of course.
You may have killed me, but I’m not gone yet, and I’m so not done yet.
Stricker called out to Jack, his patience gone. “I have another bargain for you. What’s say you let me through the door this time, and I don’t kill your daughter. That’s if she’s not already,” his voice cut out. William flashed in front of him with a snarl.
Stricker’s eyes widened, his mind too slow to react and pop out before William flung him across the meadow. His wiry frame slammed into the embankment he’d been perched on the entire night.
William launched himself at the closest Feyk, snapping its neck with a single vicious twist. He reached out, grabbing another, breaking its body in half like it was nothing more than paper.
“If anyone touches her, I will rip you. And break you. And you will rue the day you were born.” Stricker’s army faltered, taken aback at the savageness that was William.
Their leader got to his feet, his beady eyes fuming. “Bring them all down,” Stricker shrieked, refusing to admit defeat.
Half the remaining Feyk attacked William.
The other Jack,
and company. They were out of potions and would need to rely on themselves and each other.
William pounced on another Feyk, crushing him with sheer brutality.
The remaining Feyk attacking William gazed at each other in fear. This was a foe they didn’t want to fight and could not win against. It was suicide.
Stricker ordered them to attack again, but instead, they started popping out of the scene. Fleeing White Pines.
The group attacking Jack’s group hadn’t seen this and kept fighting.
Popping in, casting a spell, popping out and popping back in a few feet away.
This dance continued.
William lowered himself, crouching on the ground. He peered down at Melinda. If she was dead, he’d hunt down every single one of the Feyk responsible. They would regret stepping foot on The Demon Isle. They would regret being born. They would regret taking her away from him. They would pay with pain. So much pain before he ended their suffering.
He gently cleaned the debris off her body, rolling her into his arms. He lifted her off the ground bringing her lips to his cheek. They did not warm his icy skin. He closed his eyes listening for a heartbeat... then he felt it. A stab of warmth as her breath hit his cheek.
She was still with him.
The world slowed. Each breath, each blink deliberate, and slow.
He grasped her securely, turning to Jack.
Their eyes met.
William didn’t need to hear Jack’s voice. His look exclaimed his feelings clearly.
Save her, William. Don’t let my baby girl die.
“Always, and never,” promised William. He disappeared into the night.
Knowing his daughter was in safe hands at last, Jack blasted a spell that sent the Feyk flying. He ordered everyone through the doorway.
They rushed in.
He followed. Turned. Swiped his hand across the roots inside, and instantly they were thrust into silence and darkness.
Stricker let out an incensed cry.
It was over. And he had not won.
He stared down at what remained of his army. Defeated.
“Time to fly, Boys.”
They left in a hasty retreat.