Broken Blood

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Another acorn hit the Hummer’s roof and I jumped.

  Beside me, Wes cursed and automatically scanned the empty lot, but I was glued to the performance.

  “Before I go into the details of the decision that brought me to your screen today, I’d like to talk to you about some of the things that brought us all here. Humans in general, but Hunters, especially, have been influenced by and certainly even led the way in creating the kind of world-changing, life-altering, culture-infusing technology and changes that can only come from the passionate and committed search to progress.”

  In the background, someone muttered something about “narcissistic much...?” It sounded like my mother.

  “In my time as board chair, progress was king. Hunters, CHAS, our esteemed scientists, we were royalty. And together, as a united front, we affected such changes as metals modified to better protect against superhuman threats, alliances made, and, best of all, a cure was found. Hybrids, turned against their will, had the option to return to their God-given form. So much progress.”

  Steppe shifted and the light in his eyes took a dark turn. Something vicious sliced through the bond but I couldn’t quite reach it before he went on. I was wrapped up in his words, in their delivery, in his ability to paint himself the hero even after all he’d done. Even under compulsion.

  “Cambria’s certainly making it believable, isn’t she?” Wes muttered.

  I didn’t answer.

  “And then, in the wake of progress, it became necessary to slow down, to realize the tension and conflict our progress had created,” Steppe said, his gaze burning into the camera. “There was strife and our united front was destroyed. We became individuals fighting singular wars. And in the wake of such destruction to our progress, we are now forced to learn forgiveness.”

  The room was deadly quiet. I knew, without asking, this was the crucial moment. It wasn’t hard to guess what came next. Law reversals and successors. I held my breath.

  Steppe opened his hands, palm up, exposing his bandaged wound. “I stand before you today to accept the consequences of my push for progress. To announce my resignation, name my successor, and to rescind the law that allowed for open extermination of Werewolves, hybrids or otherwise. This law has been recorded as rescinded and is, effective immediately, null and void. Werewolves will be...” His voice dropped and the last words were delivered through closed teeth and a struggle to push them out, “Tried for their crimes and a fair verdict will be awarded.”

  But then his demeanor shifted again and the vicious satisfaction returned, both through his expression and through my own mental poking.

  Someone moved into the edge of the shot—Cambria—and the look on her face was fierce. She whispered something to Steppe, but he ignored her. Her lips moved faster, clearly barking out some demand or order, but again, he ignored her and kept going, talking faster now. “But I’m also here today to offer something else: forgiveness of my own. It has to start somewhere, doesn’t it?”

  He leaned in, his gaze and psyche all trained on one thought. His knuckles were white with strain as he gripped the edges of the podium. “Tara Godfrey, I forgive you. For your crimes against Werewolves, Hunters, and peace itself. For your crimes against me. Even now, as you coerce my hand in naming you my successor, I forgive you.”

  The room erupted in shouts, all muted by Steppe’s mic and his speech, now delivered in bursts of shouting. He blinked and his arrow-tipped gaze widened to include the world itself, it seemed. “She is the dictator behind it all. She dissolved The Cause to take over CHAS herself, to make war! She has killed the other members of the board, leaving only myself at least until the end of today’s broadcast. And even in the face of her crimes, I forgive her—”

  The camera jerked violently, angling away from Steppe and his microphone died. In the right corner of the screen, Steppe continued to rant from his place at the podium but none of his words could be heard over the din.

  A door banged open somewhere off camera and a pair of arms darted in to snatch up The Draven.

  “We have to get in there,” I said, but Wes was already out of the car and running for the doors. I kept one eye on the parking lot—still empty as far as I could see—and one on the video stream as I ran to catch up.

  On screen, a table was violently upturned by a pair of hands belonging to someone I couldn’t see, chairs flew from left to right, and someone screamed. I watched, helpless, as Werewolves poured into the room from the two backdoors. Their eyes gleamed and their jaws hung open in ready. Someone ran by, momentarily obscuring the view, and then the camera shook and fell.

  I looked up to see Wes standing in front of the door. I blinked, trying to understand why he hadn’t rushed inside ahead of me. Slowly, I realized he wasn’t trying to get in because he was keeping me out.

  “We have to get in there,” I said, leaning around him and feeling for the handle, but Wes grabbed my arm and held me back.

  “No. They’re here for you,” he said. “Look.” He pointed at the screen, where a roomful of Werewolves now surrounded my friends and family. “They’re leaving Steppe alone. He called you out and now they want—”

  Even as he said it, a gray wolf leaped into the picture, paws out, claws extended, and landed on Steppe. They tumbled backward with Steppe on bottom. Limbs struggled helplessly against paws as they fought.

  Cambria grunted as a book case fell in front of her. She jerked backward and stared at where Steppe lay, grappling. I felt the moment the compulsion was broken. So did Steppe. The bond sprang up between us, a rushing current of panic and terror and pain. I felt Steppe reaching to crawl out from under the Werewolf ... and I felt the moment he knew it wouldn’t do a bit of good.

  “You ... win,” I heard him whisper and the words were like a sledgehammer to my mental defenses.

  I dropped to my knees on the cracked asphalt, the echo of his pain just as great as the pain itself. I could feel the slice of claws down his torso. Its teeth as they sank into his throat and ripped his flesh free.

  “Tara,” Wes said, dropping beside me and cradling me against him. I watched in helpless horror as the video continued to play out the gruesome scene. My throat pulsed, my heart sped along with his, struggling with the added effort of pumping blood onto the floor rather than through his jugular.

  I cried out as he sucked in a sharp breath and then the bond ripped free as he died and I crumpled against Wes, automatically curling in on myself for protection. Wes scooped me up and carried us both to the overhang next to the building’s entrance. He tucked us in against the wall and lowered us both to the ground.

  I felt the phone being slipped free of my fingers and a moment later, I heard Wes speaking. “She’s fine,” he said. “No, we don’t see anything out front but we’re sitting ducks.”

  There was a pause where I gritted my teeth through the aftershocks of the bond as it ripped away from me. “We’ll wait outside,” Wes said and disconnected.

  The pain receded and the familiar nothingness was left in its wake. The empty void that meant my mind was once again my own. No trespassers, no voices, no comfort in company, however unwelcome they might have been. Silence in the wake of noise always hurt.

  I stayed where I was, crumpled into a tight ball, and watched the video still streaming from the phone. Wes held it up so we could both see and pulled me onto his lap without a word.

  On the screen, bodies rushed by, some human, some not— causing the view to go in and out. The buzzing in the background became a collective growling. In various corners of the room, I saw my friends—battling with beasts.

  I whirled at the low droning noise of an engine, spinning in a panicked circle to spot the intruder. From the narrow side street that ran alongside us, a loud engine approached, chugging and working as it slugged forward, but I couldn’t see around the building and there was no other noise, no other evidence of a threat.

  They were all inside.

  How had we missed them?

&
nbsp; On the other side of the wall, footsteps pounded closer. Wes pulled us both up and we jumped clear just as the door was shoved open. Cambria was first, her cheeks whiter than I’d ever seen. A thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead and collarbone and she gripped a single wooden chair leg in her hand. She raised it and then lowered it again as recognition dawned.

  “Holy Breadsticks,” she said. “Are you guys okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Wes assured her.

  She shot a quick look around the lot. “None of them are out here?”

  “They’re all inside,” I said and shot Wes a pleading look.

  “Good. You stay,” she said, stealing my argument before I could offer it.

  “What? No, you need my help,” I protested.

  “No, we don’t. There’s only six or seven of them. We can take them without you, no problem,” she said. My relief was minimal; I still wanted in.

  Behind Cambria, the door banged open again and Logan appeared, his blue ball cap slid backward and slung low on his forehead. He dragged a shocked Victoria alongside him, her eyes glassy and wide. “She’s having a panic attack,” he said.

  “Vic, you okay?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  Logan’s forehead creased and his mouth quirked into a sorrowful frown. “Her dad’s dead,” he managed, his words halted and clearly painful as they each left his lips.

  “Lexington?” I said, shaking my head. “No, he can’t. He’s the next—”

  From inside, someone yelled. Behind me, on the street, the approaching engine chugged louder. Closer. “Watch her for me. Put her in the car or something,” Logan said, the words rushed. He turned to dash back inside and called over his shoulder, “Don’t let anything happen to her, you hear me?”

  And then he was gone.

  Behind me, an axle creaked as tires jostled and the engine puffed and groaned. “What the heck is that noise?” I demanded.

  “A tour bus?” Wes asked, staring with knitted brows as the bus rumbled into the parking lot and parallel parked across four spaces. Cambria, one foot inside the building, one hand on the door, stopped and stared.

  It was a tour bus, I realized—or it had been in a former life. The dull black paint job was badly streaked in what looked like a do-it-yourself crafting day gone wrong. The windows had all been blacked out to match, the thick stripes still dripping in a few places.

  “What the heck...” Wes muttered.

  The driver’s side window slid open and a face craned out to greet us. Even from here I could see his five o’clock shadow quickly becoming more like six-thirty and his scruff was blotchy, like it was incapable of filling in no matter how long he let it grow. But even from here, I recognized him. Still, I sniffed the air to be sure, my wolf senses hyper-alert.

  “You kids need a ride?” he called.

  I sniffed again. “Benny?” I said.

  “Benny!” Wes called and broke into a run. His tone was stuck somewhere between relieved and suspicious. “What are you doing here?”

  A face appeared over Benny’s right shoulder. A woman I recognized from the single photo Cambria still kept in the Kaboodle organizer box she got when she was six. They had the same pitch-black hair that shone under the light and the thick lashes that framed wide eyes that always saw more than they let on. She was tanner than Cambria and her smile was bigger. Cambria never smiled that wide—she rarely had a reason to these days. But I knew who she was.

  “Cambria, Cambria, it’s me. I got your messages. We’re here to rescue you!”

  “Mom?” Cambria said under her breath and then to me, deadly serious, “Is this really happening or am I hallucinating? I swear, I didn’t have anything to drink today.”

  “It’s really happening,” I told her.

  “Pinch me,” she said.

  I did.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry.”

  She sighed. “Fracking A. It’s really happening.”

  She started walking over to the tune of her mother’s way-too-cheerful greetings, but I hung back. Now was my chance at getting back inside. My heart pounded and I took a step closer to the door.

  I kept one eye on Wes, still locked in conversation with Benny, and one on the handle. Slowly, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the cold metal. Then, all at once, I pulled and rushed forward through the opening—and collided with my mother.

  “Tara, dear God, there you are,” she said, shoving my shoulders until I was right back outside. Wes looked over and our eyes met. He frowned, said something to Benny, and headed for where I was being detained. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” my mother demanded, looking me over.

  “I’m fine,” I snapped at her. “They’re all inside.”

  “Well you don’t have to be rude—”

  The door slammed open again and almost knocked my mom off her feet. I caught and steadied her as we jumped clear. Astor stumbled and almost fell before Wes caught and righted him.

  “Good man,” Astor said, panting.

  His eyes focused on me, clouded, and darted to my mother. “Edie ... was looking for you,” he said to her.

  “I’m going,” she said.

  “Mom, no. You can’t go back in there,” I said.

  “I have to. And you’re staying out here,” she said. Her tone left no room for argument. Didn’t mean I wasn’t committed to trying.

  “You need me—” I began.

  “To stay out here,” she finished. “Wes,” she said. He nodded and I groaned.

  “Now is not the time to finally start getting along,” I said.

  “Benny and Cambria’s mom are here,” Wes said, ignoring me. He pointed to the blacked-out tour bus idling in the lot. “They brought transport. I think we should ditch the vehicles we came in. Better not to leave a trail for these guys.”

  My mother nodded, her chin dipping once and her lips pressed tight. “Good. Get everyone on board you can. In fact, I’ll go send the others out. Be ready to hustle. Wait. Who is Benny?”

  Wes hesitated and I said, “A friend.”

  My mother nodded and we both knew it was just one more thing I’d never told her. Story of my life. Literally.

  My mother leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “I’ll be back when I can,” she said and slipped inside.

  Grunts and growls leaked out from the open doorway. It clicked shut behind her and everything went quiet except for the bus. “Let’s get on board,” Wes said.

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving your friends to fight without you,” I said.

  Wes stopped and stared at me, his face hard. It was a low blow and we both knew it, but my guilt was overshadowed by desperation. With Steppe gone, my head and my hands were too empty for this. I needed to help. Cambria threw a glance between us and then said, “Vicky, Astor, let’s go. Hopefully, there’s a minibar or something.”

  She led them away and I stepped closer to Wes. “I mean it. How can you do this?” I asked. “What if something happens to one of them? How will you live with yourself? How will I?”

  His expression clouded. “What if something happened to you?” he demanded. “I can’t ...” He swiped a hand through his hair. “I promised Edie I’d keep you out of it.”

  “Wait. That’s where your ‘let’s make out in the parking lot’ idea came from?”

  He winced. “When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

  I stepped closer and poked a pointed finger in his chest, my temper flaring. “You are not Edie’s boyfriend,” I said and he made a face. I ignored it. “You are mine. Which means you are loyal to me.” With every statement, Wes took a step back and I took a step forward. His retreat stirred my wolf and my limbs ached to shift. My wolf wanted to let him know exactly what she thought of all this.

  I snarled, barely managing to hold my form. “Tara,” Wes warned, still backing away. “Don’t do this. Not now. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t ever lie to me again, Wesley St. John.”

 
“I won’t,” he said. “I shouldn’t have before, but, I didn’t think anything like this would happen.” His expression softened. “I thought by keeping you out here, I was protecting you from yourself. I know how much you didn’t want to go back in there.”

  I felt the anger draining out of me. He was right, and I was only taking out my worries and fears on him. “I understand,” I said quietly.

  Behind us, the main door slammed open again, but this time it was a line of Werewolves and Hunters that poured out. They appeared in a steady stream of stumbling retreats that turned quickly to leaping attacks. Wes and I flattened ourselves against the building to avoid being taken out by their momentum.

  “You could shift,” I said. “Might be safer.”

  “You go ahead. I’m staying human.”

  We dodged a set of teeth and Wes snuck in a hard punch to the Werewolf’s jaw before it ducked away. “Any particular reason?” I asked.

  His brow crinkled and he shot me an amused smile despite the violence around us. “What did Alex say? Opposable thumbs?”

  A wiry brown wolf sailed past us, landed silently on his paws, and spun. But he wasn’t fast enough. Grandma was already there, crossbow raised. The metal-tipped arrow sank into the wolf’s shoulder in a downward arc that perfectly pierced its heart. He dropped to the pavement in a heap, dead before he hit the ground.

  “Your grandma is such a badass,” George said as he ran past on all fours, chasing down his own prey.

  “They can’t bring the fight out here,” I said. “It’s broad daylight. In downtown DC. They can’t—”

  “Tara, get to the bus!” my mother yelled. She was dodging a creamy white wolf that already had two blood-stained patches on its left flank. The determination in its eyes was no match for her gracefully quick dance and seconds later, she had driven a small sharp object through its chest.

  “Is that a pen?” Wes asked.

  I shrugged, pretending the sight of my mom killing a Werewolf wasn’t the weirdest part of my day. “I get my creativity from her.”