Broken Blood

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Ugh, gross,” Cambria said.

  “But she can’t shift?” Emma said. “Olivia, I mean.”

  “We have no proof they can’t shift anymore,” George said.

  “They can’t,” I assured them, thinking of the strange smell on Lexington. Another leaked thought from Steppe clicked into place.

  “How do you know?” George asked.

  “Unbinilium. Steppe had Astor develop some sort of ... immunization, I guess. They’re not so much cured from being a wolf as it is suppressed. It’s still in there, just unable to reach the surface.”

  “Is that what he did to you?” George asked. “Suppressed it?”

  “Yeah, I thought you were immune?” Cambria said.

  “Immune does not mean immortal,” I said, remembering with a pang the last time those words were said to me before I was captured.

  “So, that’s why it’s a permanent thing for them and only temporary for you?” George asked.

  “Yes.” I smiled. “And seeing you cured me. Thanks for that.”

  “I’ll go rabid dog on Gordon Steppe any day, especially if it helps you. Just say the word.”

  I scowled at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you’re okay but...”

  “But what?”

  “Cord had a point the other night,” he said. The hesitation in his voice made me wonder if there’d been a vote about who would be the one to actually say those words to me. Judging by the exchanged glances between the three of them now, I had a feeling George must’ve drawn the short straw.

  “About what exactly?” I asked, careful to keep my voice even.

  “These attacks aren’t going to stop,” he said. “They know where we are now.”

  I remembered what Wes had said earlier about Werewolves and Hunters finally banding together in order to come after us. “I know,” I said quietly, looking back and forth between my friends’ faces.

  “You guys are right,” I said. “We can’t expect to stay here and be safe for much longer. But there are too many of us to move without being spotted. And there’s not really anywhere else for us to go.”

  “We could go to Wood Point,” Cambria said. “The wards there are stronger at least.”

  “I don’t think it’s fair to put everyone there in danger for us,” I said.

  “We can’t go back to Frederick Falls,” George said. “They’re all over the place back there.”

  “And we can’t involve anyone else,” Emma added. “Any hybrid and anyone they contact,” she reminded us.

  “Emma’s right. We can’t put new people in danger,” I said.

  I bit my lip, running through options like a mental grocery list. One by one, as I thought of each possibility, I crossed it off. There wasn’t a single place I could think of that would keep an entire pack—or packs—out while still managing to seal us in. With Vera gone, our ability to construct wards that powerful was pretty much nonexistent.

  “I could call my mom,” Cambria said finally.

  “How will that help?” I asked.

  She hesitated and I realized there was more to the thing with her mom than she’d let on earlier. “She might have a friend who can help,” she said.

  “What kind of friend?” I asked warily.

  She forced her eyes to mine. “I spoke with her after you and I talked. She’s seeing someone. I think he can help.”

  “Cam, we can’t involve anyone new,” George began, but I waved him off, eyes narrowed. Something about the way she was staring at me...

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  Cambria rolled her eyes, crossed herself Catholic-style, and said, “A Werewolf from Frederick Falls. You met him once, I think. His name is Benny.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I stared at Cambria. I couldn’t have been more confused by her words if she’d said them in Russian.

  “Your mom is dating ... Benny?” I asked.

  “That’s what I said. Why? He’s crazy, right? You told me that story of the night—”

  “He’s a Werewolf,” I said.

  “Her type,” she agreed grimly. “Gah. Why can’t I have a normal mom like yours?” she asked, eyes cast to the ceiling.

  “Uh, have you met my mom? Not normal,” I said.

  She sighed and stood. “I guess we’ll be able to make an accurate comparison soon enough.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t tell them to come here, did you?” I asked. But something told me I already knew the answer.

  “Your mom said I should,” she said, her voice rising in defense.

  “My mom? Since when is she calling the shots?” I demanded. “This is bad, Cam. It’s not safe. There are packs of Werewolves watching the house.”

  “Apparently Benny has contacts. Whatever that means,” she muttered.

  “Cam, this is bad. Dangerously bad. I can’t believe you talked to my mom about it before me—”

  A phone rang, the sound of it startling me until I remembered Wes leaving his here. I picked it up and, when I saw the name on the screen, abandoned my argument with Cambria.

  “Alex, what’d you find out?” I snapped. In the background, a car door slammed and then another one rolled shut. An engine roared to life.

  “Victoria’s picking up something really strange,” Alex said. “We’re coming home.”

  “Why? What did she find out?” I asked. Beside me, Cambria leaned in close.

  “According to Victoria, Olivia is there. At the house with you,” he said.

  “What?” Cambria and I said together.

  “I know, it doesn’t make sense. We’re on our way, just ... tell the others to be careful.” Alex said something too low for me to hear and the engine in the background roared again.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’ll be there soon,” he said and the line disconnected.

  Cambria and I shared a look and then we both jumped up and ran for the stairs. George and Emma were on our heels. Three steps into the hall, something crashed below. Someone yelled—Derek maybe? The front door opened and slammed shut.

  From the basement, Steppe’s anxiety spiked and adrenaline poured into my veins. My pulse sped as I soaked in his fear as he peered out of the high window in the basement wall to the yard beyond. Images of wolves locked in combat—some familiar, some strangers—poured in.

  And another face, startlingly familiar but not necessarily a comfort. Steppe recognized him first as an ally and I felt his relief—followed quickly by shock and dismay.

  I ran faster.

  At the bottom, I rounded the staircase in a hard left toward the loudest of the crashes and Cambria followed. In the living room, I found chaos.

  Both windows were broken, the glass shattered in piles and strewn across the wood floor and in piles along the windowsills. Grandma stood alongside one of them, a crossbow in hand. My mother stood alongside the other. She didn’t see me as she quickly slid into position, aimed her weapon, and fired off a metal arrow into the backyard.

  “They’re after him,” Grandma said without looking over as she fired off another shot.

  “After who?” Cambria asked, but Grandma was too distracted to answer.

  From my angled view, I caught sight of a russet wolf streaking by. A second later, a round of human shouts came from the yard and Cambria and I ducked aside just as an array of arrows hurtled toward us from outside. I landed with a thud on my stomach and rolled behind the couch.

  Arrows being shot into the house? As Alex would say, how did anyone outside have opposable thumbs? Cord—but stakes were here weapon of choice. And her aim wasn’t bad enough to have her shooting into the living room. Professor Flaherty, maybe? I didn’t see her anywhere.

  “Tara,” Cambria whispered, her eyes widening as she spotted something over my shoulder.

  A growling sound came from behind me and I rolled again, catching sight of the ebony Werewolf as it leaped at me. I shifted, my sweatpants and tee ripping away, but there was no time to right m
yself before my opponent was on me.

  I had no idea who he was or what pack he’d come from. He gnashed his teeth and craned his neck trying to lock his jaw around my throat and I scrambled back, sliding and clawing out of his reach until I could find my opening.

  Cord had said this would happen. She had warned us to be ready and my damn political agenda hadn’t allowed me to—

  Steppe had created this reality, not me.

  I growled and fought back. The dark wolf’s teeth caught me in the shoulder and tore through fur into flesh. I yelped, my wolf’s elation at being freed instantly dampened as the pain ripped through me. Steppe crumpled, his thoughts dulling as the pain washed over him too. Someone stood over him—on two legs, not four.

  I fell back, distracted by trying to identify his attacker, and knew the mistake I’d made even as my weight gave and the wolf landed on me, jaw open. I snarled but braced myself for the second bite. The one that would undoubtedly put me down.

  Suddenly the wolf’s weight gave and it collapsed on top of me, jaw still open. His eyes turned bright yellow and then the life faded from them. Footsteps approached—human feet—and then a hand appeared, first knocking the Werewolf aside and then offering its assistance to help me.

  I jumped to my feet on my own, careful to keep my distance as I took in the familiar dark hair and ragged scar carved into hollowed cheekbones. The face of Steppe’s ally from a moment ago, the one he’d realized too late hadn’t been here to help him escape after all.

  “Professor Kane,” I said, glancing side to side. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to—well, I can explain that later,” he said as another yelp rent the air.

  My head snapped sideways, searching for the source. Across the room, Mom and Grandma still stood alongside the windows. Cambria had joined them and they took turns providing cover fire for the larger battle raging in the backyard.

  But none of them had yelled. The sound came again from deeper inside the house. And buried inside my mind. I glanced behind me, toward the kitchen and the basement door on the far wall beside the pantry, and my blood ran cold.

  “Steppe,” I said warily. “It’s him they want.”

  Kane’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Which way?”

  “Basement. Come on.” I leaped, navigating the hallway in one step, and stopped inside the kitchen. The door to the basement hung open. From below—and through the bond—Steppe screamed again.

  I tried catching sight of his assailant in my mind’s eye but the lighting was bad and Steppe’s panic covered everything else. Instead, I waited for Kane to catch up and ran for the steps that led to the basement below.

  Steppe lay in a heap at the bottom, unmoving. The single bulb had been shattered so the only light was a filtered shadow from the high window behind the stairs. Someone in a skip cap leaned over him, a human with slight shoulders and a slender wrist. My wolf eyes took in the pointed knife clutched in tight fingers and panic shot into the back of my throat, coating my tongue.

  Behind me, Kane ploughed down the wooden steps, his boots thundering as he came, and Steppe’s assailant looked up. The light reflected off the whites of a pair of sharp brown eyes and I sucked in a shocked breath. Steppe’s panic suddenly made sense. So did Alex’s phone call.

  I kept moving, but I wasn’t fast enough. From behind her mask, Olivia smiled at me, a gleaming set of teeth in a dark, damp space, before she looked down at Steppe and drove the knife into his stomach.

  I bounded down the remaining steps and, with slicing pain burning through my gut, I leaped.

  My teeth closed over Olivia’s wrist and I felt her flesh tear as my momentum and the sympathy pains in my gut carried me up and over my intended target. Olivia screamed and crumpled to the floor beside Steppe. I slammed into the bookshelf beyond them both, momentarily stunned by the impact and the stabbing pain.

  I looked down at my own midsection in a daze, half expecting to see blood pooling there, but my light-brown fur was unmarred. Kane reached the bottom of the stairs and our eyes met in the low light. He looked from me to Steppe with a strange confusion and then bent low to snatch the knife from a slowly recovering Olivia.

  She snatched it away and glared up at him.

  “It’s over—” he began.

  Olivia screamed and plunged the knife into Kane’s boot. It stuck through the top of his foot and then his yell replaced hers. He stumbled back and Olivia stretched and crawled for the stairs. In my mind, Steppe’s pain only intensified, but he roused enough to grab at her ankle.

  With a wince, I forced myself to my feet and crawled over him to reach her. My teeth found her ankle and I bit down—hard.

  Olivia screamed, the sound shaking the glass in the tiny dirt-coated window and echoing off the cement walls. She collapsed a second time but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. What had started as a defensive tactic quickly became something else. Steppe’s fury ripped through me, painting a layer of hate over everything else. I bit harder and tore sideways, satisfied only when I felt the muscles rip free and tendons loosen and tear.

  Olivia’s blood coated my tongue, erasing the taste of my own panic and pain. My wolf—driven by Steppe’s goading whispers—wanted more. Needed more. Hurting Steppe was hurting me. She knew it. I had a feeling it was why she’d done it. Unlike when Steppe had tried coaxing me to attack Lexington, this time I gave in.

  I crawled over Olivia’s body and lifted a shaking paw, raking my claws down the length of her arms. Her body arched and fell, but otherwise, she didn’t react. Her eyes were closed and her breathing too even. After all of the medical alterations Steppe had made, she wasn’t immune to my venom. But even know that, my wolf wouldn’t stop.

  I raised my paw again and Kane yanked me back. “She’s down,” he said gruffly, winded and pained. “Let her be.”

  I whirled, growling at him and showing my teeth. Beyond Kane, Steppe still wasn’t moving. In the back of my mind, I knew whatever malice I couldn’t shake was coming from him, but I didn’t care. Olivia had hurt me. More than once. And she’d hurt the people I loved. My wolf wanted justice. Steppe wanted retribution. Semantics. I leaned toward her, ignoring Kane’s warning.

  “Tara, stop.” Another Werewolf ploughed into me, knocking me back. I landed on my side and stared up at a big blur of russet fur and dark, round eyes staring down at me in concern.

  “Are you all right?” Wes asked. A small stain of blood marred the tip of his ear but otherwise, he was intact.

  “I’m fine. It was Olivia,” I said, still unsure what “it” referred to. Had she found her own army?

  “I know. She brought a pack with her,” Wes said. He looked from Steppe, a large stain of blood seeping into his shirt over his belly, and back to me. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” I said.

  Behind Wes, Kane rose to his feet next to Olivia, his scar pulled taut at the corners of his grim lips. He’d removed the knife from his boot and, aside from the small hole in the material, didn’t show any evidence of injury. “She’s dead,” he said in a flat voice.

  Something inside me uncoiled. Guilt poked at the edges; I knew I should be ashamed for my relief at her death, but I couldn’t quite get there. Not yet.

  “Dammit,” Wes said and moved away from me to pace in the small area between dusty shelves. Kane moved to Steppe next and I watched with disinterest as he checked Steppe’s vitals.

  At the top of the stairs, the door swung wide, smacking the wall behind it. Cord stood at the top, chest heaving with exertion. A bloody stake hung from her hand as she blinked down at us. I saw her irises dilating as she tried to focus in the grainy light. For a split second, hope rose, as I spotted the concerned dip of her brow.

  “Is she alive?” Cord called—and my hope sank. Anger took its place.

  “She’s dead,” I snapped, rising to my feet to face her. “You’re welcome.”

  “Welcome?” she repeated. “Tara?”

  I answered with
a snarl. Nearby, Steppe began to come to. I could feel him struggling for the surface of the abyss that kept pulling him under. Kane steadied Steppe’s shoulders and raised him to a sitting position.

  I looked back to the top of the stairs where Cord still stood. “Your dad’s fine, by the way,” I added. “In case you were wondering.”

  Steppe, barely conscious of the conversation, sprang to frozen awareness in my thoughts. Wes whirled to stare at me and Kane’s jaw dropped. At the top of the stairs, Cord glared at me. Her hand tightened around the stake.

  Behind her, somewhere in the house, someone called out. It sounded like my mom. We both ignored her, opting instead for a tense stare down across the space. Light spilled in around Cord, illuminating the edges of her blonde hair and the fierceness in her warrior stance. Her cheeks flamed red, in anger at my comments. I didn’t care.

  Olivia was dead. I didn’t care about that either. Except—

  “I wasn’t wondering, actually,” Cord said. “Since he’s not my dad.”

  “Say what you want. You’re being selfish,” I snapped.

  “Tara, now’s not the time,” Wes began.

  “It’s the perfect time, actually,” I argued, my gaze locked on Cord. “Olivia’s dead. We’ve just been attacked and we’ve no place left to hide so there will be more where that came from. Cord’s the only one here that can stop it and she’s choosing to walk away. I’d say it’s the perfect time.”

  Cord’s mouth tightened. She shifted her weight, and for a moment, I thought she was going to walk down here and give me the fight I wanted. But in the end, she turned on her heel, her hair swishing out behind her, and disappeared.

  “Are you saying Cord is Steppe’s—?” Kane began.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. My words were barely more than a growl. Steppe was angry. I was livid. All of it boiled and brewed into the biggest storm of temper I’d felt since—

  Since the first time I’d shifted and saved Wes from that pack of hybrids.