by Brea Viragh
“Hey.” Ghast stepped forward and caught Calen when the wolf’s knees buckled. “Take it easy there.”
“He’s probably just upset. His first time out there killing things,” Nova stated. Except the hint of jest was gone from his voice.
“What do you sense?” Ghast probed.
And though the other members of the pack walked around them, turned curious gazes toward the three of them, it was a very different energy than their normal.
Serious, the twin wolves sighed and stared him over. “Where is she, Calen?” Nova asked.
Calen. Not Siegfried. Not now.
“She was shot.” He could barely form the words, give them any physical form. “Van told me not to worry—”
“What the hell are you still doing here?” Ghast demanded, sharing a look with his brother. “If you know where she is, then go. Help her.”
“Save her.”
The two pushed him in the opposite direction and Calen felt a rush of their power. A shadowy thread like the one he’d always hated, always admired, the thread binding the rest of the pack together.
He followed that power away from the manor house, his body already knowing the way, ignoring fellow packmates when they stopped to call his name. Screw what Van said. Calen knew he’d seen Odessa, knew the injured swan was his love.
He was done fucking around.
“Calen?”
Shadows danced in the golden afternoon light. Through the trees, he could have sworn he saw a slender arm, pale and perfect, beckoning him forward.
He hurried his pace, not sensing the pall thrown over him like a warm wave, not realizing when his thoughts disappeared, and his mind went blank.
Nor did he sense the man behind him with steel in his hand, pressing it to Calen’s spine.
“Odessa?”
Calen could hardly put one foot in front of the other, hardly remember his name as he finally saw her. Finally saw the woman he loved standing in the shadows of the red oaks. Her hair cascaded down to her bottom, her cheeks peach fresh and her lips a pert and perfect pink. She motioned for him to come forward, and God help him, he did. He clung to the image of her, to the memories they’d made and every one he knew they had in front of them, once the spell was broken for good. His face broke into a world-weary smile as he reached for her.
“You’re all right!”
She demurely nodded, hair falling around her face.
“But...but I saw the arrow hit you. How are you here?” he questioned.
“Put your hand in mine,” Odessa murmured quietly.
And he obeyed without hesitation as the steel pressed closer.
Power slammed into him the moment they touched. It was a wave, a bolt of lightning, a fierce wind sweeping him off his feet with no end. Adjusting his posture, he clung to her, Odessa’s oddly colored eyes watching him for a long moment. Then the image of her melted away.
And there stood Van.
Van, who lunged forward and punched Calen in the jaw.
Whatever trap Calen had fallen into, he probably deserved it, because Van had lied again. And Calen had been the fool who trusted him.
Chapter 23
Odessa’s senses returned to her with infinitesimal slowness. Each breath came more painful than the last one, her lungs aching and her bones on fire. She ran her tongue over her teeth, mouth tasting like she’d munched on a handful of pennies. Air wheezed in through her nostrils until the ache on her side seared and brought her back to the present.
Wincing, she pushed up to her elbow, cracking her eyes open.
What she saw didn’t do much for encouragement.
Desmond lay on the beach in front of her with one wing bent at an impossible angle, his chest rising and falling spasmodically.
Odessa tried to reach him, gingerly reaching out until the ache in her side caused her to stop. It hurt worse than anything she’d had to endure. She bit down on a cry as her fingers curled in the sand. Unable to move. Unable to do anything except lay there and breathe when she wanted to cry.
Somehow, she’d made it back to the lake, the swan having enough sense to land in the water to let her change once the moon rose.
Her heart pounded faster with each passing moment. She couldn’t panic. No, she had to keep the tears where they belonged and her mind in one piece. She had to deal with her own damage first before she could figure out how to help her friend. The friend who had attacked the mage to give her a chance for freedom.
And for what?
To return here in worse shape than when she’d left, because she’d let a hunter see her. Let a hunter loose an arrow and hit her.
Her breath came too shallow, yet she forced her hands to her own torso. Down past her waist, her hips, to the worst of the damage on her upper thigh. The arrow had grazed her, yes, but deep enough to cut down to the bone.
With a barely muffled screech, she shifted to curl her free knee to her chest, grasping it tightly as she turned to stare down at the wound.
Bad. It was bad. She gripped her knee tighter to try and keep from shaking. Somewhere, in a distant part of her where no one could hear, she began to scream. A high-pitched- and unrelenting whip of sound.
“Stop.”
The voice came in a quiet command. But she couldn’t stop staring at the wound, at her leg, her eyes narrowing and widening. She wasn’t healing.
“All of this pain,” the mage cooed, bending down to stare at her, close enough to touch. “All this pain, and for what, Odessa? For what?”
“Why are you doing this?” she sobbed.
He looked outraged. “You think I had a part in this? Think again, my little Princess. You are the one who decided to take matters into your own hands. To leave the lake before your time, to bring in outsiders. None of that is on me. I asked only that you learn your lesson. Now, your friend is hurt, his little ribs fractured.” The mage gestured to Desmond. “Your leg is wounded and not healing. Without intervention, an infection is very likely. You may never dance again.”
His laughter grew when her chest hitched, her sobs reaching new heights.
Then he reached out to touch his finger to the edge of her wound, and she screamed. The sound so loud that the rest of her senses guttered. She tried to rise, to get away, and ended up collapsing on her side against the sand.
Bright blood gushed from her leg. At this rate, she’d lose too much. It poured and dripped into the sand.
“This won’t clot until I say so,” the mage told her, finding her eyes.
“Use your magic.” She would not beg for it. She would not plead. But if she died, then what would happen to the others?
The mage swallowed, looking unbothered. “Now where would be the fun in that?” He stood and brushed off his pants. “Your friends will be joining us shortly.”
“Friends?” Her teeth chattered against a sudden vicious wind chilling her to the bone.
Instead of answering, the mage brushed a finger to his lips. “Wait and see.”
CALEN KNEW WHERE HE was the moment he regained consciousness. Van was gone when he woke, and he wasn’t quite sure if seeing him, if the betrayal, had been a dream or not.
But he saw the moon overhead. Just as he saw its reflection on the lake, on the stones of the dilapidated house across the woods.
His stomach clenched, and when he drew his next breath, he could vaguely make out the stench of magic stinging his nostrils. Someone had gotten the better of him. Yes.
Glancing around, he saw nothing outside the movement of the grass, bending under the weight of the evening breeze.
Calen certainly didn’t expect a snap at his hand. He jerked away in an innate response, fingers curling into a fist, until he saw the duck.
It stared at him through gleaming black eyes, plumage a wealth of reds and golds and hints of green. White. Black.
There was a tug at the edge of his mind, and Calen narrowed his eyes. “Jean?”
He couldn’t keep the incredulity from that single syllable. But
no explanation was necessary. The tiny creature snapped at his wrist again, drawing the fabric of his shirt in her beak and giving it a tug. Not enough to move him, no, but enough to get his attention.
And there, in the farthest, darkest part of him...
...He’s coming...
Calen almost missed the words. Might have had he not been through the wringer, his senses on high alert.
He knew. Knew without having to think. They’d reached the final leg of the game.
Just as he knew the instant the mage had come to the lake. The air changed around them, earth and rock and tree quivering before his arrival. A flock of birds took off from nearby limbs and raced away as fast as their wings could carry them.
Daylight, still. Any one of them might have been human, trapped in a form they could not escape. Even the waters of the lake shuddered.
Calen held his ground. He wouldn’t be fooled again. Not when he knew the game this time. Not when he knew to expect anything.
“Get away from here,” he told the duck. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
A sliver of surprise, of shock, that Jean actually obeyed him, taking flight with the others.
Fog rolled in around the man’s feet. He hadn’t expected evil incarnate to have such a kind face. Such gentle eyes and a soft smile. Then the man strode forward, cutting through the mist, his hand outstretched as though prepared to grab Calen by the shoulders. He stopped, suddenly wary, thin lips drawing back.
“You’re actually standing. I didn’t think you’d be able to, after Van knocked you clean out. What a surprise,” he finally said at last, his head tipping back on a laugh. “Oh, goodness. It seems the universe still has ways of surprising me. Wow, Calen. Wow. To think that you would be in this position after what happened to your parents. I wasn’t sure that you had it in you.”
Calen’s blood went cold. His eyes suspiciously examined the man, searching for any hint of recognition. Anything that he might have shoved to the back of his memory about this man. Who looked and smelled like a stranger.
He took a step back. “You’re trying to distract me with cheap tricks?” he said accusingly. “Your little mirage act earlier certainly did the trick. But I won’t be fooled again.”
“I think you and I both know that I have no need of tricks anymore,” the mage answered softly, and low enough to have Calen leaning forward to hear. “Will you go the way they did?”
Calen dropped his voice an octave lower. “Tell me what you know about them.”
“Much.” The man sneered. “Much more than you, although you’ve been willful in your ignorance these past twenty years. Haven’t bothered to do much to learn about them. Not that I indulged you.”
“You talk as though you know me.”
“Do I not? I let you into my house. Raised you like my own even though you are nothing. A useless waste of a man who can’t even shift.”
He’d heard the words many times before. And because he had, Calen refused to flinch when they were spat at him. They burned, nonetheless.
A snap of a finger had him sucking in his breath, an audible sound of shock, as the glamour melted away into familiar features. “No,” he whispered, despite the viper’s smile he well recognized.
“I have survived,” Alex Darrow told him, “by turning the impossible into reality. Even before your parents died and I took you into my care, I did what I had to do for the good of the pack. I made the sacrifices of my soul for the power it took to gain control from my father.”
Thin lips drew back, exposing red gums. The whites of Alex’s teeth flashed in the twilight.
“No wonder none of the scouting parties came back successful. Hard to find someone the alpha does not want to be found. Black magic,” Calen supplied.
“Not black, no. Useful. A tool that can change fate in the right hands. Like teaching supplication.”
Alex lifted his hand and a fierce wind blew. Bringing with it the body of the swan from the lake. Though his face remained impassive, even serene, the force of that one spell almost brought Calen to his knees.
What was the price of such power? He wondered. Until Alex had Odessa’s neck in his hands.
Calen! Odessa fought to break free, though he heard her call his name.
His mind went blank as the swan fought for freedom, twisting and lashing out with her black beak. Vision dimming, Calen couldn’t speak or move. Not even to free his life mate from her father’s hands.
“Let her go.”
A snap of Alex’s fingers had the swan form melting away, leaving a naked Odessa struggling, her father slowly strangling her. Blood continued to drip from the gash in her thigh where the hunter’s arrow had penetrated, leaving a trail of fire. She did not put weight on that leg even when she fought.
“Calen, run!” she gargled out when he tightened his grip. “He’ll...he’ll kill you...”
A sizzle sounded in Calen’s ears before he saw smoke rising from Alex’s fingertips. “Did you know that it takes an insane amount of power to shift forms? Unless you are a natural-born werewolf, like us, or a skinwalker, it’s almost impossible without some kind of magic?” Alex shrugged carelessly. “When my father taught the same lesson to me, taught me the value of obedience through the eyes of our prey, it took the slaughter of an entire rival pack to fuel the change. When I sought to overthrow him, it only took two. Death magic carries much more weight than anything else.”
The smile he flashed to Calen was grotesque.
If Alex had tried to buy himself time with the story, with the revelation of who had truly killed Calen’s parents, then he’d been sorely mistaken.
Calen launched himself at his alpha and struck swiftly. A blow designed to break the arm holding Odessa hostage. At the last minute, Alex leapt away, and sent a hint of his power out toward his enemy. A creature of smoke, of scales, of venom and fangs. It had Calen scrambling in retreat until he fell to his knees.
“Run, Calen!” Odessa screamed.
Alex cut off her words with another wave of searing pain, smoke trailing from where fingertips met skin.
Calen shook his head, hair falling across his eyes. “No,” he said softly. “I’m not going to run. Never again.”
The wind wailed around them. A mournful whine that filled his ears.
“If you hurt her, then it will be the last move you ever make.” This statement to Alex.
The alpha sent Calen a lazy, confident smile. “Try all you want. We both know you can’t shift. And if you can’t shift, then you are going to lose this battle. I’m certain of it.” Golden eyes flashed in the near dark, found Calen’s gaze and locked on to it. “I know you, Calen. You’ve been with me for many years. There is no chance you will succeed tonight, although I am happy to indulge you if you wish to test your meager skills.”
They moved in a slow circle around each other. A sinister dance Calen felt down to his bones. He continued to glance at Odessa. At the woman he loved held in the hands of a monster.
The alpha watched each flicker of emotion, each twist of Calen’s body. “Ah, you object to this, do you?” With a snap, he once again held a swan, the bird twisting, panicked, in an attempt to get away. “It’s nothing, you know. A way of life. My father did the same to me when I was young. It is what made me strong. It was fated. Fated that I do the same to my own pup to teach her obedience.” Those chilling eyes turned to Calen again. “Do you know how long he kept me as a crane, Siegfried? How long he kept me cursed and dancing to his tune?”
Calen held his ground in a search for calm when he wanted to rage. Rage at Alex for all that he’d done, for the death of his parents, for the way Odessa struggled, sure to break her own neck if she kept at it. He didn’t so much as glance at her now or betray that he was very aware that he would go down in this fight. There was a very real danger here, the alpha’s voice hypnotic, designed to dull his senses and keep him enthralled.
He didn’t see the unbelievable speed in which Van launched himself out of
the shadows in a full-blown attack. Claws bit deep across his back and shoulders leaving bloody furrows in their wake. Calen screamed before he could think to sensor the sound, risking a glance over his shoulder. Van had half-shifted with wolf fur covering half of his face and chest. Deep fangs curled over still-human lips. His claws dripped blood.
“A useful tool, if you have enough power to wield it,” Alex told him, his voice coming from far away.
“He didn’t have a lot of brains to begin with. No wonder you can control him,” came Calen’s clipped reply. His attention on the circling wolf as the pieces fell into place. That Van had not betrayed him, no, but had instead been used. The way they had all been used.
“I don’t care what you do with him,” Calen continued.
Van’s head twisted to one side as though in thought. The smile that graced his lips came not from him, but from Alex, along with the flames flickering in his eyes.
Calen gasped for breath and tried to ignore his surroundings. With his control taken, Van was more dangerous than ever.
“I don’t want to hurt you. After everything we’ve been through, I could never hurt my friend,” he told the wolf in a soft hush. Persuasive, hoping he could get through whatever spell Alex had placed on him.
He remained still, fighting to keep his form relaxed should he need to move quickly. His arms at his side, shoulders loose and knees slightly bent, ready to jump.
“I’ve had enough of this,” Alex said, erupting in a curse. “Finish him, Roberts.”
Calen didn’t allow his emotions to take hold. He’d end up dead that way. It wasn’t Van he fought, he tried to tell himself. It was Alex. Alex had to go down; otherwise he would bring the pack to ruin, torture his own daughter and cast her aside like nothing more than garbage. There would be no more reasoning with the man who had killed his parents for personal gain.
No time went by before Van attacked again. He leapt at Calen, shifting into full wolf form as he did, nose and jaw lengthening into a protruding muzzle. The wolf roared, mid-air, as it sprang.
Calen waited until the last second to move, narrowly avoiding fangs. Twisting his body to avoid the massive weight of the animal, he lashed out with his foot, connecting with Van’s chest before those lethal claws could gut him. It took effort to close his mind off to the pain in his back, in his shoulders. The suffering he plainly heard as Odessa fought to free herself.