Blood Rule (Book 4, Dirty Blood series)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  At least she hadn’t used the speargun.

  Metal scraped as George finished pumping gas and twisted the cap back into place. He and Wes boarded. Both seemed relieved when they saw me standing.

  “How are you?” Wes asked, coming over and pressing a kiss below my ear. I leaned into him and kissed him back.

  “Better,” I said. And while it wasn’t a lie, it also wasn’t saying much considering where I’d started. Wes nodded grimly as if he recognized that.

  “We’re making good time,” he said.

  “I heard. Kansas.” I tried making my voice lighter, something to match the conversation, but it came out strained. Wes fell silent, deep lines appearing across his forehead as he watched me. I stared back, again trying to communicate what my words couldn’t express.

  “Let’s keep moving,” George said, his voice tight.

  I knew he’d read plenty through our connection. I hated having to share this with him. He slid back into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The bus rumbled to life and we jolted and bumped our way out of the lot.

  From the back of the bus, Janie stirred. They’d both woken and fallen under again more than once. None of us could figure out exactly what Steppe had done when he’d knocked them out. There weren’t any visible wounds. Those had healed by now. But something was definitely wrong with them.

  “Tara?” Janie called.

  I went to her and knelt down. Her eyes were glassy and clouded with an exhaustion that didn’t quit even after hours and hours of sleep. The thread between us flickered as she tried to awaken. It still didn’t feel as strong as it had before the attack, especially when she slept, but even when she woke it was still strained, almost muted.

  “I’m here,” I said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “What do you need?”

  “I’m hungry,” she whined.

  I looked behind me. “Wes.”

  “On it,” he said. “Give me a second.” I waited while he consulted a map he’d spread over the bare floor behind his seat. “There’s a grocery store two miles from here,” he said. “George, take the next exit.”

  “Done,” George called from the driver’s seat.

  We’d already merged back onto the highway but the next exit wasn’t far. Judging from the brightness in Janie’s eye, that was a good thing. She needed to feed. Soon. Both of them did.

  I stayed crouched beside them both until Janie slept again. Then I made my way back up front and dropped into the seat beside Wes. He was still concentrating on the map.

  “There’s definitely something wrong with them,” I said. “Janie’s hungry. But it’s not like normal hunger.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked without looking up. He traced a line of highway with his finger. His lips moved silently as he calculated distances to himself.

  “It’s too dialed down,” I explained. “Any other time, after not having eaten for this long, there’s an edge to their hunger. It’s more urgent, unpredictable. This is so … laid back. And she still hasn’t shifted.”

  “Can she?” he asked.

  “Normally, yes. But right now …” I scrunched my brow, concentrating. “I don’t think either one can.”

  Finally, he looked up, giving me his full attention. “Do you think it’s the bond weakening again?” he asked.

  “No. I mean, it is weaker, but it pulls at me when she’s awake. I think it’s her. I think it’s both of them. Steppe did something, like he made the bond disappear with the others.”

  “I think you’re right.” Wes re-folded the map and tucked it away. He smoothed my hair, his expression softening. “How are you, really?”

  I relaxed underneath his touch. “A mess,” I admitted. “I don’t know why, after wanting so badly to be rid of it, I’m this devastated at losing them. I should be happy, but I’m not. It’s like a giant hole and—”

  “What?” he prompted when I broke off.

  Tears filled my eyes. “We abandoned them,” I whispered.

  “We saved ourselves so that we can go back for them,” Wes corrected firmly.

  I regarded him with watery eyes. Something about the firmness with which he’d said it bolstered me and I blinked back my tears.

  “Promise?” I said.

  “Promise.” He pressed his lips together, hesitating before adding, “I know you think I’m happy about you losing the bond, and you’re right, I wanted it gone. But not like this. Not in a way that causes you pain. I would do anything to take away what you’re feeling now.”

  “That’s the problem. I’m not feeling anything.”

  He picked up my hand and held it to his chest, over his heart. “Do you feel my heartbeat?”

  “Yes.”

  “It feels enough for both of us.”

  “Wes … Thank you.”

  “We’ll get them back.”

  Chapter Nine

  Colorado in August felt like springtime in Virginia. The air was chilled, but blessedly absent of humidity. It was less than an hour after sunrise when George pulled off the paved road onto a dirt path and parked.

  “Are we here?” I asked. It was hard to make out anything through the darkened windows of the bus.

  “Supposedly,” George said with a shrug. “You’ll have to consult the navigator.”

  “According to the map, yes,” Wes said, peering down at the color-coded paper.

  After two days of nothing but driving, this was a welcome announcement. I jumped up and made my way to the front. The girls didn’t stir and I let them be. George and Wes stepped back and let me go first down the stairs and out the door.

  The early morning air had a bite that snuck underneath my sleeves and into my skin the moment I stepped off the bus. I thought about shifting but decided against it. The coolness was refreshing, but so was the warmth of having Wes’s hand in mine.

  I made it all of three steps away from the bus with Wes beside me and George in tow before the view overtook me and I stilled.

  For a moment, we all three stood there. The sight was breathtaking. We were on a hilltop with the bus at our backs, giving a clear view of what lay before us. A few feet from where I stood, the drop was vertical enough to make it seem like the edge of everything.

  Beyond and below it, hills rolled with grass so green it looked airbrushed. The sun shone, lighting up a perfect blue sky. Everything in between was mountains and tall pines and such openness that it made a person insignificant in comparison.

  Here and there, lakes dotted the mountainsides. Ribbons of cobalt-blue streams interrupted the shades of green that were grassy fields, patches of forest, and valleys that even from here were covered in brightly colored pink and orange flowers.

  I wasn’t sure if it was my wolf senses widening to take it all in or the deceiving vastness of the landscape itself. It all felt so much bigger than anywhere else. My wolf strained excitedly at the prospect of exploring it all.

  “It looks like it goes on forever,” I said, breathless and cold but hopeful for the first time since leaving Virginia. Something about the beauty of this place told me it might all be okay. I couldn’t describe why.

  “Uh, are you sure we’re in the right place?” George asked.

  “This is the place on the map,” Wes said. He stared conversely down at the map and then up at the view before us.

  “It looks a little sparse on man-made structures,” George said. He turned a slow circle in every direction. I did the same and then checked the map over Wes’s shoulder. No cabin, though the map had us where it wanted us.

  “That’s the map from Edie, right?” George asked.

  “Yes.” A hint of irritation crept into Wes’s voice.

  George wandered around the side of the bus, checking what scenery it blocked from view. He returned a moment later. “There’s a trail on the other side,” he said.

  Wes and I followed him around and sure enough, there was a narrow lane of dirt winding into the trees.

  “It’s not much,” Wes said, “but it�
��s what we’ve got.”

  “Someone should stay with the girls,” I said.

  We all shared a look. “I will,” George said.

  “We’ll be back in a few,” Wes said. “Come on.”

  I followed as he led the way onto the trail. The air turned cooler and I pulled my arms tight around me. “Colorado’s summer is a little chilly,” I said.

  “Have you forgotten Virginia humidity already?” Wes asked, moving branches aside to let me pass.

  “Point taken. Colorado wins.”

  The path wound around, taking a hard right away from the edge of the hill we’d stood on. A rushing sound built in my ears, growing louder as we walked. We followed the trail until the trees around us became more widely spaced and then abruptly gave way to a clearing. I stopped and stared, a breath sticking in my throat. It was something out of a fairy tale.

  The clearing itself was little more than thick, green grass with a large yellowing patch in the center. It was almost strange how perfectly square the space of deadened grass looked before the green, healthy stuff began again. But beyond it, like a perfect backdrop, a cliff rose and towered over the treetops that bordered the far side of the space. Its hues of brown and red and orange clay were mesmerizing. Mountains in Virginia did not compare to this. And in the center, a giant waterfall fell—the rushing sound I’d heard. Its spray of water was a mixture of clear blue and foamy white froth. It looked like an entire bottle of bubble bath had been poured in a tub.

  “Beautiful,” I breathed.

  “Amazing,” Wes agreed.

  I stood a moment longer, enjoying the beauty of the falls. I could smell the moisture in the air but it was nothing like the humidity of home. It tasted light and fresh on my tongue. Again, my wolf begged to be let out. I shoved it aside and took a step forward.

  “I wonder why there’s that patch of dead grass in the center,” Wes said, wandering closer with me. “It makes an exact square.”

  “Odd,” I said.

  My attention was taken with the waterfall and a large bird that circled overhead when my nose and forehead thunked against something hard. “Ow.” I stepped back, rubbing at the sore spot on my face. I blinked at the space in front of me. There was nothing there but empty air.

  “What the hell?” Wes muttered.

  “I could swear I ran into something.”

  “I know. Look.” His hands were flat in front of him, palms out. A vein in his forearm bulged and I realized he was exerting pressure against … something.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He straightened and began running his hands right and left, then up and down. I did the same. The material was cool and smooth underneath my fingertips. My hands rippled over the shape. It was rounded and tapered in and out, as if notches had been fitted into place.

  We exchanged a look.

  “Stacked wood, maybe?”

  Wes cocked his head sideways in thought. “You go right, I’ll go left?”

  I nodded and we each took a measured step away from each other while keeping our hands pressed against the invisible surface.

  “Still there?” he asked.

  “Yes. You?”

  “Yup. Again.”

  We each took another step. Then another. I ran my hands up and down. Still, the tapering. Like slats. Like logs. Like …

  On the next step, I looked down to steady my feet. My eyes caught on the line of yellowed grass. “Wes,” I said. “Look.”

  I crouched down, running my hand all the way to the ground. The line of my hands, pressed against the invisible surface, matched the line where healthy grass gave way to deadened weeds perfectly.

  Wes’s eyes widened and he looked around at the square before us. “Keep going,” he said, excitement creeping into his voice.

  I straightened and shuffled sideways as I felt my way to the edge and then around the corner. As soon as I did, Wes disappeared from view. I yelled and popped my head back around.

  “What just happened?” he asked.

  “You disappeared.”

  “Okay, let me try.” I waited while he moved to the opposite corner and around the other side. As soon as he rounded it, I lost him.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked as he reappeared.

  “The cabin.”

  Wes nodded.

  I stepped back and squinted, trying to see something out of nothing but empty air. “But how do we make it visible?” In answer, he pulled the phone from his pocket and began hitting buttons. “Who are you calling?”

  “Edie.”

  While Wes waited for Grandma to answer, I wandered. When I’d reached the back corner, I could still hear the sound of Wes’s baritone voice, but it was muffled. There were definitely walls—or something like it—separating us.

  Behind me, the rushing water poured over the falls. Farther out, birds called. My mind hummed with the girls’ snoozing and George’s ever-present buzz of worry. He was pacing. Whatever he’d been able to read from me, it wasn’t enough to soothe him. If we stayed gone much longer, he’d come looking.

  I rounded the space and found Wes as he hung up. “What did she say?”

  “No answer. I left her a voicemail.”

  I frowned, doing my best to stamp out the panic that automatically rose. “I hope everything’s all right.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. In the meantime, we need to figure out how we can see this thing so we can get George and the girls off the road.”

  “She could’ve told us this before we left,” I said.

  “I don’t think she wanted us walking around with all the information at once.”

  “Why not?”

  “She wanted us to call and get it.”

  “Why?”

  He gave me a pointed look.

  “Wait, did she think we were going to run?”

  “You have a history of blowing off the plan,” he said.

  I didn’t bother to argue. He was right. Didn’t mean I liked it.

  With nothing else to do, we went back to feeling along the surface of the outer wall. I rounded the same corner I had before, but this time I kept going once I’d lost sight of Wes. About halfway in, I stumbled as my foot caught on something solid over the grass. I felt my way up an invisible step. Then another.

  My hands found the wall again but the texture had changed. The beveled wood gave way to a smooth panel that rose as far as I could reach and extended all the way to the ground. The seams were tight with the slightest ridge on one side, top and bottom. Hinges.

  I kept going. My hands brushed and then closed over something rounded—just the right size for my palm. A doorknob. I twisted and pushed and it gave under my grip.

  “Wes,” I called as it swung outward, “I found a door!”

  From the other side, I heard the creak of hinges and then, “So did I.”

  I pulled the door open and stepped back. Unlike the outside, the view of the interior was completely visible. Dark mahogany floors met warm cherry wall panels, lighting the space naturally with sunlight that poured in from skylights overhead. Dark burgundy rugs covered the entryway and beyond that, a narrow hall ended in what looked like a living room at the other end.

  A door closed and footsteps sounded, paralyzing me with the sudden fear that maybe we weren’t actually alone out here in this invisible cottage after all. Wes appeared at the far end of the hallway. “Looks like you found the front door,” he said.

  “Dammit, Wes, you scared me.” I willed my heart to slow to normal speeds before George came racing up the path and thought I’d disappeared into thin air.

  Wes grinned. “Look at this place. It’s great.”

  I hesitated, casting a wary glance at the peaceful forest behind me. I remembered Grandma’s description of this place, how it was hidden to everyone except hybrids because of some sort of ward Astor had put on it. I wasn’t sure how it worked or which sort of hybrids the ward preferred. What if I wasn’
t the right kind? Or Wes? What would happen if an intruder tried to cross the threshold?

  “Come on. It’s fine,” Wes assured me. He held his hand out.

  With a deep breath, I put my hand in his and stepped inside, leaving the door open behind me. Nothing fatal happened.

  Wes looked at me, brows raised. “You okay?”

  “Peachy,” I said.

  The interior of the house was beautiful. The paneled wood shone in the slanted light. The rug underneath my feet was plush. On impulse, I slid out of my shoes and kicked them aside, enjoying the way my toes sank into the threads. I took a few steps and when the rug ended, the hardwood was cool and smooth.

  I followed Wes down the hall until it emptied into the living space. The rush of water from the falls was muted, but the sight of it was still breathtaking. Large, floor-to-ceiling windows made up the entire length of the living area and gave an open view of the rocky cliff and the water spilling over the side. The lake’s surface foamed bubbly white where it met the falls. Where the bubbles dissolved, the water sparkled a bright shade of blue.

  “Makes me want to swim,” I said.

  “Hmm? Yeah.” Wes sounded distracted, the sound of his voice coming from somewhere farther back. I found him in the kitchen, rustling through cabinets and drawers. Wes held up a spatula and a frying pan. “We can cook,” he said triumphantly.

  “Cook what?”

  His face fell. “Hmm.” He spun and went to the fridge at the far end. The seal stuck like it hadn’t been worked open in a while. He pulled it free and bent over to look inside. He hung there, bent over, jaw slack for a full minute before straightening and letting the door shut. “It’s stocked.”

  “With what?” I went to the fridge. Wes backed off to let me look. I expected cans or something non-perishable, not that anyone would need to keep them in the fridge, but what else would it be? Instead, every shelf was stocked with fresh goods: fruit and veggies, the makings of salad and sandwiches, bread, milk, eggs, you name it, it was there.

  “Where did it come from?” I asked.

  “Beats me.”

  We shared a look. I jumped when the phone rang. He checked the screen. “It’s Edie,” he said.