Close Enemies

by Marc Daniel

“The witch’s brew?” asked Ezekiel.

  “The magically-modified wolfsbane extract. The substance that made the Shadow Pack werewolves undetectable by other praeternaturals.”

  “You’re a popular guy, Michael. Especially with the ladies. Maya, the witch, Katia Olveda, Silvia, whoever that may be…”

  “Silvia was the teenage-looking elder that led the Western Covenant’s shock troops. You’ve met her. She was the one you threatened when you rescued Gwendoline and Daka’s skinwalkers from the vamps last year.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Michael knew Ez was joking. The wizard’s memory was better than his. “Anyway… Any of these people would hate my guts enough to want to come after me.”

  “And killing people close to you is the best way they could find to do that?”

  “If they want to make me suffer, that would be a good first step. Start by hurting people I care about before coming directly for me. That would explain why they involved the Fida’I. They need them for the final kill so why not use them for the other ones as well? There’s also a chance they’re after Olivia too.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “We found three dead bears and one dead wolf in the park. All in the past two weeks. They were all killed by predators that I suspect were all shifters of some sort. One of the bears was definitely killed by a werewolf and another by a weretiger. The last seems to have been killed by a grizzly.”

  “I can see a weretiger as one of the Fida’I, but a werewolf would have to be particularly nasty to make the cut.”

  “Anyway, I think the killings are meant to rattle me. To let me know that they’re coming for me. But why would they kill a wolf? I think maybe the wolf was killed for Olivia’s benefit. That could also explain why they went after Lucy.”

  “That would indeed make more sense.”

  “There is a problem with this theory though.”

  “What is it?” asked Ezekiel.

  “I’m the only werebear left, so whatever killed that wolf would have to be a skinwalker, not a werebear. And I really can’t imagine the Fida’I recruiting skinwalkers. If werewolves aren’t tough enough to make the cut, a skinwalker wouldn’t have a prayer.”

  “You may not be the last werebear left after all. It’s not because we haven’t encountered one of your peers in a couple hundred years that they’re all dead, Michael. Some may be in hiding. No, the question I have is what would the Fida’I have against Olivia? From your list of potential enemies, which ones would want to harm that poor girl?”

  Michael thought about it for a minute. “Maya would probably be at the top of the list. Katia Olveda and the rest of the Shadow Pack may have something against her, but it would be much more subdued than Maya. The witch doesn’t even know Olivia exists. I don’t believe the bloodsuckers would have a particular interest in hurting her either, but I could be wrong there. She’s hanging out with Daka’s skinwalkers a lot so that could be enough to piss the vamps off.”

  “Well, you can take Maya out of that list of yours. She’s in exile and she has no way to get back to this region without Dariel’s express approval. The last I heard, she’d been sent to the elves of the Frozen Kingdom in Siberia. If she had escaped. Dariel would know.”

  “And he would tell you for sure?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Michael wasn’t convinced. Ezekiel seemed to have forgiven the High King’s misdeeds awfully quickly. “Then I’m back with the Shadow Pack as my key suspect. That would also explain the bear killed by a werewolf. Maybe a member of the Shadow Pack is working with the Fida’I.”

  “That’s not entirely impossible, I suppose, but I don’t find it likely. Fida’I are a secretive bunch. They usually work solo or within their own cells.”

  “I wonder if I could get in touch with Katia Olveda and try to learn something from her.”

  “She’s still in prison?” asked Ez.

  “As far as I know.”

  “And you think she’ll talk to you after you killed her lover and ruined their dreams of controlling Houston?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Chapter 44

  She needed to feed. Her last meal had been the horny frat boy she’d fucked on the back seat of his car, far too long ago. At home she always had plenty of blood in reserve, but she was a very long way from home and hadn’t been able to bring any with her. Airport security had really become a nuisance of late. She was also unlikely to find an initiate willing to donate a few pints around these parts. Back home, they’d be fighting for the honor.

  In exchange for their blood, the donors hoped to one day be turned in the process. Once in a while, a vampire granted the initiate’s wish and became his maker, but this was much more the exception than the rule. Far more numerous were the ones dying as the vamp sucked them dry. It took serious restraint for a vampire to willingly stop feeding while blood still flowed through a victim’s body. Her kind wasn’t known for restraint.

  Feeding on that poor student the way she had came with a significant chance of exposure, but the reward was worth the risk. Nothing was more satisfying than drinking off a recalcitrant puny human. The terror always added a fragrance to the crimson nectar that pouched blood couldn’t hope to emulate.

  Nothing beat the pleasure and adrenaline rush of grabbing a bite on the go, as she liked to put it. One simply needed to be careful and, above all, smart about cleaning up after one’s meal. Just as she’d done with her latest victim. She’d wrapped his car around a tree on a winding mountain road before installing him behind the wheel and setting the vehicle on fire. Nobody would ever make the connection with her, let alone Michael Biörn.

  She’d thought about the werebear a lot since that night. The two of them had some unfinished business, and she’d never gotten a chance to settle the score.

  By the middle of the eighteenth century, she’d become one of the Eastern Covenant’s best enthrallers. A position that kept her plenty busy. She’d all but forgotten about Biörn by the time she’d gone to that small log cabin lost in the French Pyrenees during the winter of 1783. But after that night, she doubted she’d ever be able to forget him again.

  She’d completely lost trace of him after that, too busy dealing with the fallouts of that fateful evening. But now, after nearly two and a half centuries, she’d seen Michael Biörn again. He’d looked right at her but had of course not seen her through the car’s tinted windows. Now wasn’t the time to reveal herself: not just yet. But that time was nearing. Before long she’d be staring Michael Biörn in the eyes. She simply couldn’t wait to see the recognition in his eyes when she finally revealed herself to him.

  Chapter 45

  They were getting closer but still had a little way to go. Michael estimated they’d passed the midway point of their journey twenty minutes ago. And so far, the hike had been pleasantly uneventful.

  Their little procession would have shocked any witness. Fortunately, they’d encountered no one.

  All shifters had morphed as soon as they’d been away from the main hiking trails. As a result, the cortege was now composed of a single human, Lucy, walking slowly between Michael’s enormous bear and Olivia’s wolf. Daka’s pack formed a fluid barrier around them.

  Lucy hadn’t said a word since they’d left Yellowstone. Michael suspected she’d completely reverted to her catatonic state. Olivia probably felt the same way, based on the worried look on the werewolf’s face.

  The skinwalker that served as their scout came back running one more time towards the group, but he had nothing to report to the vanguard composed of four wolves. The path ahead of them was clear.

  They were maybe going to make it to the elvish city safely after all. But the minute the thought crossed Michael’s mind, the wolves of the rearguard became agitated. One of them let out a long howl. A warning to the group.

  The eleven skinwalkers immediately formed a protective circle around Lucy, all facing out, while Michael and Olivia remained a
t her side in case anything went past the wolves.

  What jumped out of the trees all around them surprised Michael. He’d expected an ambush but not vampires. And the ten or so men and women surrounding them were anything but breathing.

  They all wore day-suits to protect them from the sun. Wrapped in the dark outfits, they looked like ninjas.

  One of them was about five foot tall and Michael knew who was hiding underneath the armor. He’d recognized Silvia’s smell. Her stench was unmistakable even to his impaired nose.

  The fact none of them carried guns surprised and worried Michael. Silvia knew firsthand what Michael could do in a fight. Why would she show up empty-handed? The skinwalkers alone were already a good match for the vampires, their hereditary enemies. It simply didn’t add up.

  But before Michael had a chance to ponder the question further, the answer appeared out of the woods right in front of him: a massive tiger.

  The beast easily jumped over the wolves protectively surrounding Lucy. He landed straight in front of Michael who had anticipated the move and placed himself between Lucy and the killer.

  Harassed by the vamps, the wolves were breaking ranks to engage with the bloodsuckers. One on one at first to test their strength, but Michael knew the wolves would soon single out a few prey and sic three or four skinwalkers on each one of the chosen foes: a dangerous strategy that left many enemies without supervision but one that had proven efficient in the past and compensated for the wolves’ slower reflexes.

  The tiger pounced on Michael, the momentum sending the two of them rolling in an avalanche of claws and fangs. He was smaller than Michael but still weighed between 500 and 600 pounds. Not a foe to take lightly.

  Michael carefully protected his neck for it wasn’t only a praeternatural’s weak spot but a tiger’s favorite target. His opponent did the same, constantly keeping his head away from the bear’s powerful jaws.

  On more than one occasion Michael felt the cat’s claws ripping into his flank and back, but these wounds would heal eventually and although unpleasant they weren’t affecting any main organ.

  The cat was too fast for Michael to block or dodge every attack, however. The tiger’s reflexes would already have been something difficult for Michael’s bear to match under normal circumstances; in his current weakened state, it was simply impossible.

  Unable to take a decisive advantage over his enemy, the tiger retreated to a safe distance, observing Michael while catching his breath.

  This gave Michael a chance to assess the battlefield. He’d been so busy fighting the cat that he didn’t even know how Lucy and Olivia were faring.

  Everywhere around him, the battle between the wolves and the vamps was raging. It was impossible to tell which side, if any, had the upper hand.

  Suddenly, Michael felt a node of dread in the pit of his stomach when his eyes landed on Olivia’s wolf. His protégée was fighting a second tiger thirty feet to his right. How many of them were there? Despite fighting with all her heart, Olivia was clearly losing the battle and it wouldn’t be long before the cat took a definitive advantage over the wolf it outweighed by a factor of two.

  There was no time to waste. Michael made a beeline for Olivia’s enemy, but his own tiger had something else in mind. Michael saw the beast pouncing towards him from the corner of his eyes and at the last moment modified his course to find himself facing the flank of the incoming beast.

  The tiger, realizing he’d been outsmarted, tried to stop his momentum, but it was too late. Michael’s claws were already piercing his underbelly, slicing him open from thorax to groin.

  This wasn’t a fatal blow, but Michael didn’t have time to finish him off. Olivia needed him immediately.

  A second later he was crashing into the second tiger, freeing Oliva from the weight of the cat that had been smothering her.

  This second tiger was a bit smaller than the first but made up for it in viciousness. Michael was quickly losing stamina. That’s when the first tiger joined the party, pouncing on his back, sinking his fangs into Michael’s neck while the other closed in for the kill.

  Michael was running out of options when all of a sudden he heard screams of a type he’d never heard before. Vampire screams. A second later, bloodsuckers had deserted the battlefield and were running for their lives as a half dozen elves appeared between the trees.

  The tigers took this as their cue to leave and before Michael had a chance to realize what was going on, the Fida’I had disappeared, swallowed by the surrounding thicket.

  Chapter 46

  Kewanee sat alone, lost in thought, on one of the rows of wooden benches surrounding Old Faithful, Yellowstone’s most reliable geyser. The impressive eruption had ended a few minutes earlier and the last tourists were leaving the area. Within minutes, new ones would come to take their place, waiting for the next eruption that was supposed to start about forty minutes from now.

  Kewanee remained sitting on her wooden bench, however. She had nowhere better to go. Ever since she’d witnessed the caravan of vehicles leaving the park through the North Entrance early in the morning, she’d wondered where they’d been headed.

  She’d easily recognized Michael behind the wheel of his pickup truck and hadn’t been shocked to see Olivia sitting next to him. Not shocked but slightly nauseated all the same. How could he stand to be so close to that murderous bitch?

  They’d been lucky the day Biörn had walked out on them all those years ago. Who wanted that kind of a father?

  But deep inside, Kewanee knew she was just fooling herself. She wanted that. She wanted to be the one sitting next to him inside his pickup. She craved the kind of attention he gave to Olivia, the same way her mother would have loved to be treated the way Biörn treated the journalist Kewanee had seen with him a couple of times. The way he looked at the woman with googly eyes contrasted so much with the way he looked at everybody else that it was impossible to miss.

  But instead, the bastard had abandoned her pregnant mother in that shithole of a reservation. Letting them rot in poverty without ever coming back to check on the daughter he’d never met. And for that, he would have to pay.

  Her mother had wanted her to go and meet her father. “Maybe he’s a good man,” she’d said. “Maybe he regrets never having met his daughter and will welcome you with open arms.” Fat chance!

  Kewanee was glad she hadn’t revealed who she was to Biörn. She’d wanted some time to observe him at a distance, figure out who her genitor really was before he had a chance to lie to her face.

  As she finally got up to stretch her legs, Kewanee saw Helen Fletcher talking to a group of tourists. They were on one of the boardwalks going through the surrounding geyser basin. She felt bad for the woman. In the course of a few months, she’d lost her husband and daughter to a car accident and got severely burnt trying to rescue a kid from a gruesome death. And all she had to show for it were horrible scars she’d probably keep for the rest of her life.

  Once again, Biörn had been the one saving the day, jumping in and rescuing the kid. Easy to do when you know your skin will regenerate in a matter of minutes. She knew she was being unfair, but she didn’t care. The man felt more compassion towards a stranger’s kid than for his own flesh and blood.

  Helen saw her and waved from the boardwalk. Kewanee returned the wave. Poor lady… She was pretty sure she had a bit of a crush on Biörn. Boy, was she setting herself up for disappointment. The man had barely acknowledged her existence despite Helen’s not-so-subtle efforts at getting his attention. She was always bringing him tea and pastries or trying to strike a conversation, but Biörn hardly noticed. Although on at least one occasion she’d caught him staring at Helen’s backside as she was walking down a flight of stairs ahead of him. It had only lasted a second, but he’d definitely noticed the woman’s cute butt.

  Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t seen the journalist in some time. Maybe the two of them had broken it off. In which case no doubt she’d been the one d
umping his ass. Maybe Helen would get her chance after all. And when that happened, Kewanee would hate her for it.

  Chapter 47

  Mere seconds after the elves’ unexpected arrival, their attackers had all deserted the battlefield. All that was left of them was a vampire pinned to a tree by two arrows. He was hissing like an injured, cornered rat.

  Two skinwalkers lay slain on the forest floor. They were surrounded by their packmates, sadly howling their grief.

  Michael had regained his human form and was kneeling down next to Olivia. The werewolf was a bloody mess of torn flesh and crimson fur, but she was breathing. “You’ll be alright, Olivia. I know you’re hurting right now. Don’t try to morph back. Give your wolf time to heal the wounds. They’ll heal faster that way.”

  “There’s something you need to see, Michael,” said Leka.

  Michael didn’t like the sound of that.

  The elves had shown up in the nick of time. One of their scouts patrolling the woods had sensed an unwelcome presence and raised the alert. Knowing Michael and Lucy were on their way, Leka had taken the threat seriously. He’d immediately taken a few men with him and come to meet them.

  Michael followed the elf. “What’s going on, Leka?”

  “We found Olivia’s sister.”

  This definitely wasn’t good!

  A moment later they reached two elves bent over Lucy’s inanimate body. One side of her face was covered in dirt while the other had a gash coated with coagulated blood. She was as white as snow, drained of all life.

  Michael just stood there staring at the young woman’s lifeless body. Two puncture wounds were clearly visible at the base of her neck.

  Despite all their preparation, despite expecting the ambush, Michael had been unable to protect Lucy in the end. Sadness overtook him like a tidal wave. Sadness for Lucy who’d been robbed of her existence way too young. Sadness for Olivia who’d lost the only family she had left in this world. His sadness quickly dissipated, however, erased by more potent emotions, more bestial ones: rage and the need for revenge. The bloodsucker who’d done this wouldn’t get away with it.