by Ben Alderson
He storms toward them, shouting something incoherent. The rapid-fire bullets have ceased as weapons reload. The wolves shift and run toward their enemy. Only seconds pass before Will reaches his comrades. They narrow their gazes and spit at his feet as he approaches.
I recall his memory from when I drank his blood. Thankfully, I drank from many sources that day. The more I drank, the less I could distinguish actual memories from the puddled mess within my mind. I only had to live through select moments of Will’s past. One included a training day. He wanted so desperately to make friends, but he was only viewed as the heir to leadership. No one took him seriously. Watching him kiss me was a betrayal that will only amplify their hatred.
I shake my head. Silently, I tell my brother I can’t leave him, and I see his disappointment. I want to tell him that I would understand if he left without me, but I know he’d refuse. He left me once in the midst of howling wolves, and I know he would die before doing it again.
Reluctantly, he releases my arm, and together, we charge our attackers. There’s no time to think, to reconsider, to convince the hunters that we aren’t their enemy. I suppose even if there were time, the latter would be a lie. I absolutely am their enemy. I have planned my revenge every second of every day since my escape, and I will see it through.
We reach the hunters in seconds, wolves at our tails. Will is still arguing, telling the men to stand down. One hunter lowers his weapon, and I see relief wash across Will’s face. He thinks his ally is listening, but even I know he’s not. His naivety will get him killed one day.
The hunter lunges for Will, slamming him to the ground. I run toward them, and I feel the moment Will’s back connects with the earth. The grass and soil respond to his abrupt smack, as if it received a lashing. It vibrates on impact. I’m not sure if it’s the wolf or witch in me that connects so perfectly with the earth, but I’m grateful for the warning. I can sense each footfall, hear each rushed inhalation.
The moment Will tries to stand, the hunter brings down the muzzle of his gun and nearly smacks Will into unconsciousness. Will puts up his hands in defeat, but his former ally is not interested in his surrender. He points his weapon, and I watch as his finger slowly pulls the trigger.
My senses hasten, and a single urge to save Will drives me forward. I reach him in the few seconds it takes for bullets to rapid-fire from a chamber. I turn to bypass the assault, sparing my heart but several bullets collide with my arm. The bullet shells become fragmented bits that slice through muscle. The sensation is so strong I lose my footing and skid to the ground. The back of my head smacks against the cold, hard earth, and pain shoots through my spine.
I shriek, ignoring the pain ringing through my head from ear to ear. I rip the sleeve of my shirt to bare my wounded arm. My already pale skin turns an ashen white, my usual soft-blue veins turning black as the foreign substance liquefies within me.
Chad reaches me after sidestepping the group of hunters targeting him. He drops to my side and squeezes my arm so tightly I’m sure it will break off. He shouts something at me, and even though I can hear him, I cannot understand his words. Everything in my body is screaming at me to fear the substance spreading through me. The overwhelming desire to gnaw off my own arm so the substance does not reach my heart becomes too great to ignore.
I hear myself shout something about being poisoned, and I don’t recall the exact moment I register Chad’s fangs piercing my skin. His teeth tear through my flesh, but the pain of the poison has already enveloped me.
I know he’s going to suck the poison from me, risking his own life. We know nothing about this magical bullet. It is strong enough to bring a tribrid to her knees, so it may be deadly to my vampire brother.
I push Chad off of me, and he stumbles backward, colliding into Will, who’s managed to somehow escape his captors. My vision clears as I blink away the tears that spill. My gaze lands on Chad. Will has him pinned down. He’s shouting something about the poison coursing through my veins. Chad responds by telling him he won’t let me die.
Two hunters approach from behind, readying their attack. Before my brother realizes he’s in danger, they’re behind him. Weapons are drawn just as hot, sticky fire shoots from my now-extended arm. I fling myself forward, lurching as I scream with the fire that escapes my grasp. The men are engulfed in the flame that was once nestled deep in my core. I call upon the fire element without any real assurance. I don’t know how I controlled it well enough to direct it only at our attackers, and I don’t know how to send it away.
I stand, feeling the blissful heat that sizzles over every inch of my body. My skin is warm, and I know I’m flushed. It’s such an odd feeling to feel this inexplicably warm. Magic blossoms within me, and I feel the other elements practically ache to be tapped into. They swarm together in my core and spread through every fiber of my being.
All around me, a battle ensues. Wolves tear through flesh, easily overpowering the few hunters who dare to venture this deep into Wolfsbane Forest. I know I should cease the fire. I should return the magic back into my soul, but I cannot. Seeing the wolves endangered by these vicious beasts masquerading around like they are the world’s saviors only fuels my anger.
I’m growing hotter by the second as I deepen my connection to the fire magic. Sweat dribbles down my forehead. I’m not sure if I’m hot because of the fire or because I’m concentrating so acutely on trying not to burn my friends.
I don’t look at Will. I’m sure watching your friends burn to death isn’t a pleasant sight, and I don’t care to see the disgusted look in his eyes. He’ll hate me for this, I’m sure of it. It takes only seconds for the flames to claim their souls, and the hunters fall lifeless to the ground.
“Savi.”
Chad’s voice is a soft whisper at my ear. He doesn’t need to speak the words for me to know his wishes. He pleas for me to stop, to release the magic before it consumes me entirely. He isn’t part witch, so he doesn’t understand. The magic has already consumed me. I am a puppet in its play, and it wants revenge.
The sharp howl of an injured wolf breaks my concentration, and the fire recedes, reentering my core, smothering itself. I feel odd without the heat at my fingertips. Though I felt its flame, it did not hurt me. Now, I feel… empty.
Snarls erupt all around me as wolves fight to take back their homestead. I scan the area, seeing that they have the upper hand, but I know this is a losing battle. We may claim victory here, but these hunters were sent by a larger army. And their leader is Will’s father.
“We have to help them,” I call. I don’t look at Chad, but I know he will help me. I never consider meeting Will’s gaze either, for I fear the anger that surely resides there.
“Are you well enough?” Chad asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.
I squeeze my hands into balled fists, my knuckles turning impossibly white. Smiling, I say, “I’ve never felt better.”
I remember the poison that laced the bullets, and I wonder if every bullet encased such a weapon or if that bullet was meant for me alone. The fire magic burning every orifice of my body must have nuked the liquid, making it harmless. For the first time since that night, I’m grateful George cast such a powerful spell to revive me. He may have lost a piece of himself as part of the black magic used, but without his essence lingering in me, I wouldn’t have been able to fight off the poison. That is, of course, assuming he couldn’t have revived me another way.
I charge a group of hunters, not waiting for my brother to be reassured that I am strong enough to battle on. The moment I reach a small group, I jump into the air. The heels of my feet make contact with two jaws, and the men are flung backward. I land firmly on the ground just as wolves finish the two hunters.
Across the field, I watch as a mother with a toddler on her hip is cornered by a group of hunters. Her back is flush against one of the many wood cabins that line the clearing. I wonder why she didn’t run with others as my fear nearly chokes the life from me.
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br /> Suddenly, I’m propelled forward, giving no care to anything else around me. I hear Chad or maybe Will shout my name, but I ignore the voice. I have to help her. I have to save the baby boy clinging to her arm. His innocence will not die by their hands.
I don’t see the hunter running toward me until it’s too late. He’s withdrawn his blade. It’s long like a sword with a blade thick like a machete. It glistens when the light hits it. If angled just right, it could blind me. The handle is black and jeweled, and I wonder if the stones have any meaning.
My assessment of the weapon takes mere seconds—too few to halt but enough to grant me the realization that I can’t turn away. I must take the brunt of the assault.
The hunter smiles. His eyes sparkle with his intent, and I swear that he’s surrounded by a bright white light. Perhaps it’s the blade blinding me after all. His silhouette is outlined by… feathers? Wings? I can’t distinguish the shadows that flare out from his shoulders.
The moment blade meets flesh, I am pinned down by the realization that I will die here tonight. Even after everything George and I have done to protect our mistakes, I will die. Inch by inch, I feel the formidable metal. It’s cold, lifeless, just like my body soon will be.
My gaze flickers to the woman and child. Wolves aid her now, and I find my lips turning upward. I smile knowing the boy will live on. He will grow up knowing of the hunters, and that knowledge will strengthen his generation. No longer will they kill supernaturals in the name of their lord.
The blade has penetrated me fully, piercing straight through my back. I jerk against the strong arms that hold me in place. The hunter’s smile is hard, cold, brutal. His face is inches from my own, but I can’t focus on him. All I can hear are the steady beats of my heart in my head.
He jerks his arm back, and I feel every inch of the blade slice through my core. He missed my heart, but he sliced through my spine. It’s an injury I could heal from, but not before he finishes the deed.
I fall into a heap on the ground. Again, my head smacks the earth, and I feel the tingle of dying grass against my bare arm. My veins have since returned to their normal color, and as I stare at the sky, my thoughts are with George. I wonder where he is right now, if he’s okay. Is he staring at the sky while thinking of me?
The hunter grips the handle of his blade with both hands and holds it above me, angling the tip of his weapon with my widened eyes. He plans to plant the weapon firmly into my skull, effectively ending my existence. I can only blink and watch as he quickly thrusts his arms downward.
The flash of dark gray fur blurs before me. I hear the distinct yelp of metal piercing flesh followed by abrupt echoing of orchestrated howls. The night air thickens with their grief. The wolves howl, and their agony rips through me, slicing straight to my core.
I swivel my head against the compact earth and stare directly into the lifeless eyes of Zane, my werewolf alpha. His cold eyes stare back at me, his jaw open, tongue snaked out and hanging over his canines. Protruding prominently from his torso is a black jeweled handle. It contrasts against the alpha’s dirty fur.
A soul-crushing scream rips its way through my chest and escapes my lips. Tears blur my vision, and I want so desperately to blink away the salty substance. But in doing so, I’ll reaffirm the vision of Zane before me in my memory. Instead, I scream and howl and curse the hunters for taking him from me, from us.
I don’t stop crying until a shadow figure hovers over me. The hunter who stole the alpha’s life stands proudly above me. He grasps the handle of his weapon, twisting the blade for dramatic effect.
When he finally withdraws the weapon, the wolves silence their howling serenade, and the world erupts into blood and darkness.
Chapter Twenty
George
Vampires and hunters alike react to the storm of magic I rain down on the club. Spinning wind keeps my feet above the heads of them all. Some hunters look up at me, but the vampires are too focused on those who rush them.
The elements are my puppets, and I their puppet master. I choose them wisely. Fire could catch and destroy the club and everyone within it. Although that thought elates me strangely, I stay with air as a safe choice.
The hunters look no more than zombie survivors from horror movies. They wear rugged, earth-tone war clothes. Their weapons decorate every spare place on their bodies. They’re not like Will.
I hardly have a moment until the first vampire goes down. Her piercing scream smashes flute glasses on the shelf next to her. A stake, made from dark wood, protrudes out through her small chest. She’s fallen to the ground. Her frail hands clutch at the stake until all the color drains from her skin, and she looks like an empty shell of gray. Other vampires near her reach out and pull her toward them and away from the hunter.
Now he is all mine. Abraxon’s laugh fills the club. He is now out of my prison of flesh and dancing among the dark corners of the room. The hunter looks up. Not a speck of fear fills his brown gaze as he stares at me. I take in every part of him, looking down at the boy I am about to destroy. His lips are thin and pale, his nose short and pointed. His hands are murderous, his mind hateful.
I raise a hand toward him. “Bring him to me.”
Abraxon answers, the darkness becoming physical matter that separates from the walls in a shroud of pure darkness. This stops the hunters from attacking the vampires. A clicking noise explodes around us all. All eyes are on the slithering mass of shadow that moves around the room like a black silk cloth. Abraxon drops the frozen hunter whose mask of hate now melts away, revealing the scared child beneath.
Around his waist, Abraxon constricts, lifting him off the floor until he dangles like a rag doll before me. The hunter doesn’t even bother to struggle. He knows it would be wasted effort.
Others around him raise guns, but the rushing winds beyond the club race through the open door and rips them all from the inside out until there is no one left to watch.
The vampires race for the doors and lock us in once again. As a unit of one, they hold them shut before more hunters have a chance to come back in.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I tell the hunter in Abraxon’s grasp.
I think he is going to reply, but when the gob of spit exits his mouth and lands on my chin, I know I am wrong. I laugh, winds picking up around my feet as I stay in the air.
“Yet another mistake to add to your list,” I tell him.
Abraxon does not rest. The hunters face turns pink, then garnet, then blue. His mouth splits open, a cry escaping, but he lacks the breath to scream.
Now he is mine.
Abraxon cackles with delight, strangling the boy’s waist. Loud cracks of bone sound off and tickle me with pleasure. Abraxon drops him, for the angry vampires who wait beneath us are hungry. In moments, they overwhelm his helpless body and devour his blood for killing one of their own.
“George,” the supreme calls out. From my height, she is close beside me. Her eyes are wide with shock, but the corners of her mouth pull up on either side, which contorts her face into one of pure desire. “Kim was right about your power.”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. She clearly saw it all. Abraxon slithers in the air beside me like a ghostly sheet of black material. The supreme looks to him and back to me.
“Go out there and make sure no other hunters find their way inside,” she commands.
I nod, lowering the winds until my feet touch the floor.
“Good luck,” she says. “To both you and your… companion.”
Ah, thank you, Abraxon clicks aloud, shocking the supreme even more.
Commotion at the doors takes all my attention. The vampires who hold them in place struggle as a force tries to break in. The sound of gunfire lights up the night from outside. Puckered holes damage the door, giving us peepholes to the outside. The harsh smell of smoke wafts in.
“Go!” the supreme calls, pouncing from her balcony to land among her kind. “Deal with them out there, and I
will deal with mine in here.”
I don’t question her. Instead, I move for the doors.
Abraxon, you need to hide, I think. I cannot have the hunters beyond nor Elder Jane seeing my demon. Enough vampires have seen him within the club walls tonight.
If you say so…
As if I took a breath of freezing winter air, I know that Abraxon is now back within me. His echoing presence has returned within my limbs.
With my hands, I signal the vampires to stand away from the doors. They do so with speed. The hunters beyond take their chance to push the doors wide, but I raise my own power in defense. Conjured witch wind builds behind me. My arms tense with power. Pushing with force toward the open door, my wind races forward until it rips both the flooring and the doors, pushing them all toward the unknowing hunters beyond. Like dominos, they fall beneath the weight of the doors. A gaping hole gives us all a view to the world beyond the club.
I take several steps forward, sensing the vampires preparing for their own fight. Into the night, I walk, magic lingering at the tips of my fingers.
Are you ready? I ask my inner demon.
Let us devour them, he answers.
***
Once I turn the corner to see the main street, I am directly at the back of the large group of hunters. Before they see me, I stop, pressing my back into the outer wall of the club.
“If only I was part vampire,” I whisper to Abraxon.
I am darkness, George, and as I am joined with you, that makes you one with my power. Ask for it to aid you, and it will.
“What do you mean?” How I could call upon the darkness was beyond me.
We do not have time for lessons, George. Call for the darkness as you do fire, air, or earth. Ask it, will it, command it.
Abraxon is right. I am moments away from being found from a wandering hunter. If I need to hide, I need to tap into his power just like he does with mine.