In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Third Season

by Frater, Rhiannon

  The kitchen was obliterated. Appliances were dented, cabinets destroyed. The sink was lodged upside down into the far wall. The windows were shattered and the blinds and curtains flapped angrily in the flow of the night wind.

  The meat on Sheila’s thigh was slowly knitting back together, but her missing fingers would take much longer to regenerate. Fighting with only her left hand was very difficult, but she was managing for the moment. Centuries of struggle had made her a scrappy fighter, but the werewolves were huge, many in number, and seemingly all around her. With the amount of blood she was losing, her survival was in question. Each drop lost weakened her even more.

  Wielding the dismembered forearm of a werewolf she’d killed like a weapon, she used the claws to rip open the chest of the nearest attacker. Meanwhile, Alexander was on the far side of the room trying to get to her, but he was completely cut off by three other werewolves. Their gazes kept touching throughout the fight, but they couldn’t get close enough to help each other fight. The werewolves had immediately moved to separate the vampires when they’d invaded the house. It had been an effective tactic. Sheila was badly damaged and struggling to keep ahead of the werewolves. She’d been unable to deliver a killing blow for several minutes and was basically evading the wolves.

  A blow from behind ripped open her flesh to the spine and she barely rolled away in time to keep her spinal column from being torn out of her body. The werewolf’s attack grazed her shoulders, tearing open more flesh.

  “Fuck,” she grunted, landing hard on the slick, debris-covered floor.

  More blood lost.

  The two werewolves approaching were in the full man-beast forms. Muscled arms tipped with razor sharp claws, maws filled with sharp teeth, they towered over her and backed her against the wall. When the hard surface hit her shoulder, she formed a plan. Shoving off from the wall, she slid on her hip along the floor, the blood creating a slick surface. She zipped between two werewolves lunging for her, hit the opposite wall and popped up still clutching the werewolf forearm.

  Whipping the arm back and forth, the black claws slashing through the air, she retreated over the destroyed kitchen counter. It was difficult to find purchase on the rickety pile. Ignoring the painful burn of her many wounds, Sheila focused on the werewolves stalking her. Over their brawny shoulders she glimpsed Alexander fighting with the ferocity of a man determined to save the woman he loved.

  She had a bad feeling he was going to fail.

  One of the werewolves lunged toward her and she slammed the claws of the dismembered arm into its huge head.

  “Back off, asshole,” she snarled.

  The second werewolf tackled her, its massive body riding hers into the refrigerator. The impact broke so many bones she went blind with agony for a second. Somehow, when she’d fallen. she’d instinctively grabbed the beast’s throat with her one good hand. Hissing, she dug her nails through the fur, into the meaty thickness of his neck. Saliva and blood dripped into her eyes as the wolf’s mouth snapped at her face. He was clearly anxious for the kill.

  Sheila took quick inventory of her injuries. One leg was shattered, an ankle broken, ribs busted, and she was certain her skull was fractured. She’d lost so much blood during the course of the battle that she was almost as weak as a human. All her strength was centered in the hand attempting to tear the werewolf’s throat out.

  If only she could get a better hold and squeeze harder...

  When the werewolf’s claws stabbed into her chest and burrowed deep, disbelief filled her. Was this really her end? Sheila forced her fingers to tighten on the beast’s throat, but the excruciating agony of the claws furrowing through her organs stole all her strength.

  “No,” she whispered.

  The werewolf’s eyes gleamed as he stared into her eyes, his hand finding their target. His fingers wrapped around her heart.

  “Alexander,” she cried out, not as a plea for help, but just so she could say his name one last time.

  The green fire swept into the kitchen, setting the werewolves ablaze. Their screams of torment were sweet to her ears.

  Greg hadn’t abandoned them.

  She sobbed with relief.

  The hellfire flowed over her, but didn’t burn. Her attacker howled in despair as the fire devoured his fur and flesh. He attempted to pull away, but Sheila found the last of her strength to hold him in place. If he jerked his hand out of her chest, he’d take her heart with it.

  While the other dying werewolves attempted to run away, Sheila and the werewolf struggled in the corner of the kitchen. The air reeked of sulfur and the green blaze licked along the walls and roof, but didn’t set the structure ablaze. Its sole purpose was to seek out their enemies. The fire burned deep into the werewolf, charring his muscles, bones and organs. His fur began to slough off.

  Over the head of the burning beast, Sheila saw Alexander running toward them, shoving the fleeing werewolves out of his way. Only a few more seconds and victory was theirs.

  “Die, asshole,” Sheila hissed into the face of the werewolf, her fingers completely submerged into his cooking flesh.

  “You... first,” the werewolf answered.

  Sheila screamed as the claws punctured her heart.

  With one last gasp of breath, the werewolf tore it from her chest.

  As the darkness consumed her, the last thing she saw was Alexander shoving the werewolf off her and his voice crying out in her mind.

  Sheila...

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Vanora’s words clung to her icy breath as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to fully process the devastating scene before her. The hellfire had destroyed the werewolves, but Pólemos, the oldest and strongest according to Dexios, had escaped. Armando had witnessed the large werewolf throwing himself through a window seconds before the hellfire enveloped him. Leto had pursued Pólemos to stop him from reaching Aeron. Vanora was glad the goddess was gone. It allowed the remnants of her family and friends to mourn without her intimidating presence.

  In the corner of the kitchen, Alexander sat on the floor, holding Sheila’s body as it gradually sifted into dust. Weeping at his side was Alisha, her hand resting on his shoulder. Tears streaked through the blood on his face while his form shivered with the violence of his silent sobs.

  Vanora could hear his voice in her head like a repeating drum.

  ...no, no, no, no.

  The press of Armando’s body against Vanora’s back as he held her close should have been a comfort, but it wasn’t. She was relieved her love was alive, but staring at Alexander, so lost in his grief, she wondered for how much longer. Aeron would hound them relentlessly, killing those she cared for until she was his. How arrogant she’d been to think the universe would wait for her to gather her wits, strength, and create a plan.

  Greg squatted among the remains of the kitchen a few feet from Alexander. His usually red face was blanched and the chubby hands pressed to his lips were shaking. Vanora hadn’t expected such a show of emotion from the incubus, but maybe she had been wrong about him, too. When he’d seen Sheila’s dead body, he’d let out a cry that had been both demonic and yet strangely human in its heartbreak.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your mourning, but we need to go. Now.”

  Vanora glanced at Dexios. He stood just outside the kitchen, covered in dirt, grime, blood, and meatier things. Only his tattered jeans still clung to his muscular form. Hands still tipped with claws, he was keeping a look out for a second attack.

  “Where?” Alisha asked. “Where do we go?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere safe.” Dexios dared to approach, the debris on the floor crunching beneath his bare feet. He kneeled near Sheila and gazed at her heartbroken mate. “I understand your grief, but we must go. She was a brave warrior and we will all honor her memory.”

  “If we survive,” Armando said grimly.

  Dexios let out a slow exhalation, then reluctantly nodded. “Yes. If we survive. But
to do so, we should go.”

  Vanora’s head ached from Alexander’s litany resounding in her head. The first of her returning powers to manifest would be the one that would torment her. She didn’t even know what to say to Alexander. His grief was absolute. Resting her head against Armando’s shoulder, she pulled his arms tighter around her body, seeking comfort.

  “We can go to my warehouse,” Greg said abruptly. “It’s where I store stuff when I switch lives. It’s under assumed names. Out of the way. Warded.”

  “How can we go?” Alisha whispered. “We can’t just leave her here.”

  “She’s almost completely gone, Alisha,” Armando replied. “And we need to get Vanora to safety.”

  It was then that Sheila’s body dissolved completely into an ashen pile and sifted through Alexander’s fingers. Standing, the vampire’s face wore a mask of fury that hid his utter despair.

  “Alexander? Will you come with us?” Dexios asked.

  Vanora found herself staring at the raven-haired vampire along with everyone else in the room. The air vibrated with dark emotions, like a pendulum sword slicing through their hearts. Alexander finally turned his face toward Vanora.

  ... you need to go to Greg’s haven...

  “Are you’ coming?” she asked aloud.

  Alexander gruffly nodded.

  ... you are my family. Together, we’ll avenge her....

  The creak of broken wood announced Leto’s return. At her side, her wolf was limping. Its fur was matted with blood.

  “He escaped,” Leto announced, her voice a mere growl.

  “Then Aeron will know about your betrayal,” Dexios said with understandable concern.

  “I have summoned the wolves to my secondary den. Only those in Pólemos pack will remain with Aeron. We regroup tomorrow.”

  Listening to Leto, Vanora sucked a slow, deep breath into her lungs in an attempt to steady her nerves. It was time for her to go to Aeron. Arianrhod’s magic was herding Vanora into her trap, and she didn’t want to lose any more people.

  Leto scrutinized the bedraggled group. “Feed. Rest. Tomorrow we begin again. Do you have a place to seek shelter? Wolves don’t share their dens with…” Leto trailed off. “It wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “I’ve got it covered,” Greg spoke up.

  The vampires watched Leto with hollow, anxious eyes. Vanora sensed they would not have gone into her den anyway. She scared them.

  “I will contact you on the phone.” Leto tapped her pocket.

  “You got my digit.” Greg gave her a lascivious grin. “You know how I hang.”

  Vanora shot Greg an incredulous look. Was he trying to piss off their greatest ally? Greg winked at her in response.

  Leto’s lip slightly curled. “You’re disgusting, but, yes. I have your number.”

  Greg was about to say something more, but Alisha smacked his arm to silence him.

  Leto started toward the door, then hesitated. Her keen eyes settled on Dexios, waiting.

  Dexios remained positioned so that he was part of Vanora’s group. “If it pleases you, Mother, I will stay with them, since their numbers are diminished.”

  Leto merely inclined her head. “Very well.”

  The imposing woman and her wolf departed.

  “She’s so scary,” Alisha breathed.

  Alexander nodded gravely.

  Dexios merely shrugged. “She has her ways.”

  “Yeah, I bet she does,” Greg said, slowly licking his lips.

  “Let’s go. Pólemos will reach Aeron soon,” Armando said.

  Alexander met Vanora’s gaze with a sorrowful one.

  … there’s nothing left for us here anyway…

  Even though Alisha hadn’t heard his words, she rested a comforting hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

  “I’ll get the truck running. I’m ready to blow this joint and get some grub. I could eat my weight in pussy.” Greg crawled over the rubble, careful not to disturb Sheila’s ashes.

  Rubbing Vanora’s shoulders, Armando pressed a kiss to the back of her head. “We need to get you somewhere safe. Let’s go.”

  Alexander stopped to draw his fingers through Sheila’s ashes before following Dexios and Alisha into the garage.

  Swiveling toward Armando, Vanora rested her hand against his cheek. Guilt was a heavy presence on her shoulders. She’d been so worried about him, she hadn’t thought of her friends possibly losing their lives. Now Sheila was gone and Alexander was alone.

  In a way, she was asking Armando to face the same destiny as Alexander. She was preparing to go to Aeron and risk everything to defeat him, leaving Armando to fear for her life. The unfairness of it all choked her, but she knew for certain the final battle was hers alone. The sooner she brought the war to an end, the more likely it was that her friends and family would survive. She hadn’t lied earlier when she’d declared she was willing to die to save them.

  Armando tenderly took her hand from his face, kissed it, and held it to his chest. Their gazes touched and the sadness in the amber depths of Armando’s eyes made it hard to breathe.

  “I know what you’re going to do. I won’t try to stop you,” he said at last. “I believe in you. Love you. You’ll win.”

  Vanora melded into his kiss and clung to him for several precious beats of her heart. How well he knew her and understood her. He was precious and she would do everything she could to save him from Aeron’s wrath.

  When dawn broke over embattled Houston, Vanora would depart for Aeron’s haven.

  Epilogue

  Aeron glanced up when Pólemos entered the throne room in a fury. The werewolf was battle-worn, naked, and covered in blood. Shifting on this throne, Aeron motioned for Pólemos to approach. He’d spent the last hour listening to Lorelei deliver the latest updates from his minions scouring the city. None had found Vanora. His favorite child was healed now, but she was sullen. Vanora getting the best of her was not sitting well with the little vampire. To Aeron’s dismay, he realized his feelings mirrored Lorelei’s. He was furious with his future wife, but yet he wanted nothing more for her to be at his side.

  “I found Vanora, but I was thwarted. I lost many of my best warriors trying to recover her for you,” Pólemos started in a rush. “Leto was among the rogue vampires protecting Vanora. There is also a demon. He used hellfire on us. I alone escaped.”

  “Leto was with them?” Aeron gripped the armrests of the throne and leaned toward the wolf. “You saw Leto with them?”

  “Yes, he did,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

  Aeron stood up sharply as Pólemos whipped about, growling, fur sprouting from his bristling bare shoulders.

  “I’ve spent some time cultivating a way to ensure her trust in me,” Leto said, leaning against the doorjamb. At her side, her wolf nipped playfully at her fingers. She, too, was bloodied and covered in filth. “I would’ve been able to bring her to you tonight if not for Pólemos spoiling my plans.”

  “Why didn’t you speak to me of this?” Aeron demanded, unsure if he could believe her or not.

  “Because you’ve been unwilling to accept that you took too long to bring her into your fold. She’s grown into a very strong, independent young woman. If you forcibly drag her here, you’ll find yourself embattled. And she is a worthy opponent. I respect her power enough to try to gently herd her into your arms, not force her like some barbarian.”

  “But we’re fated--”

  Leto laughed darkly. “Yes, but we both feel the change in the air, don’t we? Magic being undone?”

  Aeron snorted with fury.

  “I’m a god. I don’t wait for fate to bring me what is mine. Therefore, I created my own plans to bring her willingly to you. Pólemos’s interference has caused a delay, but she will come.”

  Aeron shot Pólemos a rage-filled look. “When you discovered where Vanora was, why didn’t you summon me?”

  “Forgiveness, my king.” Pólemos fell to his knees. “I wanted to bring her to yo
u myself.”

  Leto let out a bitter laugh. “And now wolf blood has been spilled and lives lost because you did not trust me, Pólemos. When you saw me within the house, you should have withdrawn.”

  His features twisting with confusion, rage, and fear, Pólemos remained silent.

  It was a wise move. Aeron was too frustrated and perplexed to have any patience. “Explain, Leto.”

  “I convinced Vanora that she should come willingly,” Leto said, casually lifting a shoulder. “She would have come tonight, but the attack on her haven disrupted those plans.”

  “And how did you convince her?” Aeron slid off the throne and approached her on silent, bare feet.

  With the harshest smile, Leto said, “By offering her hope of defeating you.”

  The words struck hard and deep into his heart. “She loves me,” he protested.

  “Maybe. But she’s determined to destroy you for what you did to her family and her friends. As I said, you waited far too long to bring her under your wing.” Leto disengaged her body from the doorway and approached Pólemos. “And the loss of her friends and family has done nothing to assuage her belief that you are evil and must be destroyed.”

  “I am not evil,” Aeron snarled. “I’m a man of destiny. I will set right the world. Restore order.”

  “You’re ancient. She’s still very young,” Leto replied. “She deals in absolutes, while you deal with the reality that there are none.”

  “But she will come?” Aeron wondered how so much had gone wrong so quickly. He’d believed that Vanora would come to him at the right time out of love. Not seeking his destruction.

  “Yes. One of my wolves will bring her to the haven tomorrow. May I suggest that when she arrives you do nothing to anger her further against you?”

  “Such as?”

  “Killing those she loves.” Leto brushed past Pólemos, one long black nail dragging against his cheek to draw blood. Pólemos didn’t flinch. “There’s been enough blood shed in this war. Let her come to fight her battle, then win her over with soft words and kind gestures.”

  “Are you telling me what to do?” Aeron barked after the departing She-Wolf.