The Vampire King's Cage

by T. S. Ryder

  Zoe raised a brow. "No. Nothing happened between us. But that is not why I wanted to talk to you. My contacts are very cautious about trusting a Locke. Werewolves, in general, don't have the best of reputations and your family has one even worse than most. But my question is, would it be possible for you, sometime in the future, to facilitate negotiations between your community and the larger Shifter communities of the world? We are coming to a time where we need to work together."

  "You want to work with my family?" Mary bit her lip. "I'm not sure that would be possible. My father always taught my brothers and sisters and me that Bears are heartless killers. It will take far more than me to get them to see the truth."

  "I see. Are you saying that there is no hope for it then?"

  "I don't know. My brother, Peter, he will be able to do more than I could. He's the one who helped me get back to Andre. I think he understands."

  Zoe looked disappointed, but she nodded. "We'll start with—"

  The rest of her words were swallowed up by the crack of a gunshot.

  Mary heard a sharp whistling and then a thump. As she turned, she was aware of something wet and warm on her face. Zoe's eyes were wide. She crumpled slowly, as though sinking in water, knees buckling beneath her. She fell back against the truck and a streak of red ran down the red door. A small hole, perfectly round, burrowed in her forehead. A trickle of blood ran from it.

  The Bear was on the ground before Mary realized she was dead. A scream choked in her throat and it was only the sound of Andre's roar that broke her gaze away. Her eyes went to his instantly, and then followed his gaze to a figure standing on a small swell right in the trees.

  Her heart stopped. Her father held a gun in his hands. Dimly, Mary saw it wasn't one of the family hunting rifles.

  It was pointed right at Andre.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The crack of a gunshot rang in his ears.

  Andre Mitchel's head jerked up, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His eyes immediately sought out Mary. She stood by the truck, mouth open and eyes wide as the woman beside her, Zoe, crumpled, blood trickling from the bullet hole in her forehead.

  His Bear cried out to see another of his kind die. He started forward before he even saw the man with the gun. The papers in his hands were suddenly too heavy to hold. They fluttered to the ground.

  Paul Locke stood on a swell between two trees. His gun was still aimed at the truck.

  Mary.

  Andre roared again, leaping forward. Anger and fear mingled hot in his chest and he raced forward, embracing his Bear as he did.

  The gun swung around to point at him.

  Crack!

  Fiery pain bit through his shoulder. The impact of the slug blasted him off course, sending him spinning. His head hit the ground, and he felt his Bear retreating even as he struggled to call it forth. Panic grasped at his heart but he forced himself upright again, beginning his charge again. He could not let Locke hurt Mary.

  "Papa, no!" Mary screamed.

  Crack!

  The bullet tore through his side, knocking him down once more. His chest heaved but his lungs couldn't seem to draw air.

  Get up, he told himself. Get up!

  He pushed himself to his knees. Locke was walking forwards now, expression hard. The gun was still aimed at Andre, but Locke did not pull the trigger. The Bear snarled, pushing back his pain. So this was how it would be? Locke wanted to see terror in his eyes? Wanted to cut him open from throat to navel and let him bleed out?

  "Papa, please! Don't!"

  "Quiet!" Locke turned his gaze from Andre, looking somewhere past the Bear's shoulder. "You will receive your punishment, Mary, don't make it harder for yourself when your time comes."

  No. Andre pushed himself to his feet with another roar.

  Crack!

  His knee gave out and he fell again. Black and white spots danced before his vision, blinding him. Shapes like faces blurred in the lights, mocking him. He would die and Locke would hurt Mary. Would he kill her, his eldest daughter? He killed Eve when she was only six. He has no emotion.

  Andre struggled to push himself up again. Pain crashed over him, making his vision go dark. Mary screamed again, the sound echoing, as though coming from the distant end of a tunnel. Panic gripped his throat. Mary. Mary! No!

  He jerked his head up, drawing in a breath to tell her to run.

  Paul Locke was almost upon him. The gun glinted with the same gleam that was in Locke's eyes. The hands were steady, the expression triumphant. A slow smile passed over his lips.

  "This is what happens to Bears that trespass on Wolf prop—"

  A streak of black barreled into Locke. The gun went off again as it jerked to one side. A high whistle brushed Andre's ear. The world rang and his vision slipped sideways. He struggled to focus again. Locke was on the ground, his hand still clutching the gun, a black wolf over him, snarling and growling as her teeth flashed and stabbed into his arm. Mary.

  Andre pulled himself forward, eyes on the gun. If he could get it away from Locke…

  Blackness swallowed him.

  ***

  Not Andre, was all Mary could think as her teeth sunk into her father's arm. Not Andre.

  Her Wolf screamed, rage burning every cell in her body. The creature pinned beneath her was not her father. It was a threat to her soulmate, to her, to their future together. She would destroy it! The acrid smell of gunpowder bit her nose as blood poured into her mouth, sweet and metallic. Fingers dug into her scruff, reaching for her throat, and she released the arm to lunge forward, closing her mouth around her enemy's head.

  She tasted his scream and felt bone crunching beneath her jaws.

  A fist hit her in the ribs, jostling her. She yelped. Her teeth slid off the face, tearing through flesh. Another punch and she found herself rolling away. Each breath she tried to draw in sent a sharp pain through her lungs, but she quickly recovered and sprang to her feet.

  Her father's Wolf, twice as tall and muscular as she, bowled into her. She was knocked onto her back, kicking out at her father's belly. He leapt over her, headed towards Andre.

  No!

  Mary rolled again. Her teeth sank into his back leg, setting her heels into the ground, and dragged him back. Paul turned like lightning, jaws clamped over her neck in a second. A yelp sprang from her throat before the pressure increased to the point where she couldn't breathe. Mary twisted this way and that, eyes rolling, but she couldn't break her father's hold.

  The glint of the gun caught her eye. As black splotches began to cloud her vision, she swung her body around. Her neck jerked at an odd angle, but as she threw her weight back, her paws touched the gun.

  Fortuitous Luna, make this work!

  Mary suppressed her Wolf. Her father's teeth dug into her soft skin, tearing away flesh. He let go, her blood dripping from his mouth. As he darted towards her for the final time, Mary threw herself backwards. Her hands found the gun and she brought it up, stock braced against the ground, barrel pointed at her father.

  The kickback jolted up her arms, rattling her teeth and knocking the breath from her lungs. Her father's body flew backwards. He crumpled to the ground, whimpering. Blood stained the fur on his chest, dripping onto the ground. Mary's grip on the gun tightened, her eyes going wide.

  What have I done?

  Paul's head lifted. His clear blue eyes met hers. They rolled as he struggled to get to his feet, then collapsed. His head lolled. He took in a shallow breath. It rattled out, and he was still.

  Mary sat frozen. Her hands locked around the gun. She tried to tell her fingers to let it go, but they wouldn't obey. Her head swam, blood pulsed in her ears, and blackness swirled around her. The world was silent, cold, unmoving, as she stared at her father's lifeless body.

  A soft groan made her vision suddenly steady. She blinked and was finally able to cast aside the gun. Her hands felt numb, pain shot down her spine as she stumbled towards Andre. He twitched, limbs shivering. He lay
on his face, but when she rolled him over, she was relieved to see his chest rising and falling.

  "Andre," she whispered, pressing her hands to his face. It was pale, bloodless. His eyes fluttered.

  Blood soaked through his shirt at his shoulder and abdomen, and more at his leg. Mary's hands trembled, but she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She had dealt with gunshot wounds before. At least once every year, a hunter would wander into Wolf territory and take a shot at someone. They were always brought to her family farmhouse since they were the closest to town and the doctor.

  I can do this.

  Her hands steadied. Mary ripped open Andre's shirt. The buttons popped off, hitting her in the face like tiny bullets. The feeling made her shiver, but she ignored it. The wound in Andre's side was not serious. A grazing shot. No entry.

  Jerking to her feet, she ran back to the truck. She avoided looking at Zoe, slumped next to the truck with a bullet hole in her forehead. Mary gathered her clothes, which had shredded when she embraced her Wolf to attack her father. She needed bandages.

  The shot to Andre's shoulder had gone right through his body. From what Mary could see, it had missed the major arteries and organs. His knee was another matter. There was no telling what damage had been dealt; the bullet had hit his knee square on, and there was no exit wound.

  Mary packed the rags into the wounds. Her hands were soon covered in blood. Andre's eyes fluttered open and Mary froze. He had lost enough blood that he should be half dead, not regaining consciousness. Her heart lifted. He was strong! He'd make it through this.

  "Mary?" His voice was hoarse, but his eyes were clear and they focused on her face. A hand brushed against her cheek.

  His skin was cool to the touch, but not as cold as she expected. Mary grabbed his hand and pressed her lips to it. "Everything is going to be okay, Andre. You're going to be fine."

  A brief smile crossed his face before his eyes closed again.

  "Andre!" she shook him. "Andre! I need you to stay awake. You need to get into the car. Can you do that? I'll help you."

  His eyes opened again. His skin went even paler as he forced himself to sit up. With Mary's help, he managed to stand. She tried to hold his weight on her, but she felt like she was about to fall over. He was far taller than she was, and every inch of his body was muscle. He groaned with every step they took, but they managed to get to the car before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed into the seat.

  Mary checked his pulse. Weak, erratic.

  As she got into the driver's seat, her gaze landed on Zoe. It felt wrong to leave her behind, but saving Andre's life came first. She pulled out of the clearing, headed down the bumpy mountain road as fast as she dared. The clearing and all that had happened there was soon swallowed by pine and spruce trees.

  Her father's face flitted into her mind and Mary's hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. How had he found them again?

  It doesn't matter right now. He's dead. I need to take care of Andre.

  She glanced at her soulmate. His eyes were roving under his eyelids, but as long as he moved, she knew he was alive.

  Mary turned her focus back to the road and thought of nothing but getting to town.

  Chapter Twenty

  Andre's head pounded as his eyes opened. It took a moment for him to remember what had happened–he and Mary were meeting with Zoe, and she was going to give them papers that would get them to Europe. Then Paul Locke had shown up and killed her. Pain shot like jagged lightning from various parts of his body as he shifted.

  Right, he had been shot.

  A long, slender hand shot out and pressed against his cheek. "Andre? Are you okay?"

  "I'll be fine." He winced. "Bears heal fast. It's difficult for us to even scar."

  He focused on her. She was naked, her beautiful voluptuous body covered in blood, both dry and dripping from the puncture wounds in her neck. Her normally alabaster skin was a sickly yellow-green color, and a sheen of sweat coated her. She shook, her gaze forward, but shifting in and out of focus.

  "Pull over," Andre said.

  "No, we have to get to the hospital."

  A spike of panic drilled itself through Andre's head. Who would be waiting for them there? "Stop the car!"

  Mary stomped on the gas. They skidded to a stop, the seatbelt snapping against Andre's chest. The movement made stars explode in front of his eyes and he bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out in pain. Moaning, he reached over to shift the car into park before he turned the heat on full blast. Even using his uninjured arm made his shoulder burn and he gasped for breath.

  "What's wrong?" Mary's voice was higher pitched than normal.

  "We can't go to the hospital. That's the first place that your father will come looking for us."

  Mary closed her eyes and she swayed. He reached for her instinctively, and it felt like he was being shot again. He gasped and her eyes snapped open again. She leaned forward.

  "What do I need to do?"

  "Cigarette lighter. Get it hot so we can cauterize my bleeding." Andre leaned back, closing his eyes as waves of nausea threatened to take him.

  "No, you need to be in a hospital so you can heal properly. You still have a bullet in your knee."

  Andre growled in frustration. "He'll find us there."

  "He's dead."

  Andre opened his eyes.

  "I killed him," Mary whispered. "I shot him. He's dead."

  A rush of emotion left Andre breathless.

  Dead. For three years he had dedicated his life to this moment, when Paul Locke would be dead. Ever since Paul Locke and his two oldest boys had brutally murdered his wife, Isadore and his daughter, Eve, right in front of him It had been his mission to kill him. Andre had painfully turned away from retribution when Mary came into his life, choosing her over revenge.

  Now that Paul Locke was dead, there was a sense of relief he hadn't anticipated. He would never be tempted to turn away from her in order to kill her father.

  But Mary did it. That was something he never wanted. Moving slowly to avoid making the pain worse, he put his hand on hers.

  "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

  "He's dead, that means that he won't be coming after us. We're going to a hospital."

  "Wolves never hunt alone. And even if he came by himself, the others won't be far behind. They'll be able to smell what happened. We can't risk it."

  Mary turned her face away. "What are we going to do then?"

  "We're going to cauterize my wounds and see if there is a first aid kit to take care of yours," he frowned. "How bad are they?"

  "I, uh… I'm not bleeding very much anymore. But between us we've lost a lot of blood. I don't think it's too much, if Bears heal as fast as Wolves then we should be okay… I think. But infection is something else and your knee—"

  "Don't worry about my knee."

  Mary activated the cigarette lighter. Andre leaned his head back, breathing deeply to prepare himself.

  "I've done this before," he assured her. "I can handle it. Like I said, Bears heal fast enough that we don't usually scar."

  "Where did this come from, then?" Her fingers touched the curved scar on his cheek.

  "We don't scar, except when we make ourselves."

  "Why would you make that happen?"

  Andre didn't open his eyes. She didn't know the full story of what happened when Isadore and Eve died–he hadn't told her who had killed them. His lips parted to tell her that her father and brothers were responsible, but the words died in his throat. Not now. She's in shock. Allow her some time to grieve her father at least.

  "I got it when Isadore and Eve died. I made sure it scarred so that I would be reminded."

  Mary bowed her head.

  Andre took a deep breath. Right now they needed to focus on what to do.

  They didn't have the information they needed to move onto the next step of their escape from the United States. They had planned to le
ave, Andre so that he would never again be tempted to choose revenge over his love, Mary so that she could never be taken back to the hellhole she was raised in. Now with the Wolves hunting them, they had nowhere to go.

  "Zoe?" he asked.

  "I'm so sorry… she died."

  "You left her back there?"

  "Yes." Mary's voice trembled and she choked back a sob. "Even if you weren't so badly wounded, I wouldn't have been strong enough…"

  Andre opened his eyes again. He tried to smile at Mary. Tears coursed down her plump cheeks, and he longed to wipe them away. But the cigarette lighter was ready, and he didn't want it to cool. This was going to be painful enough without having to do it twice.

  Zoe dead. Her contact information gone. They could return to the strip club where Andre first met her, but that was too close to the werewolf community that Mary grew up in, and there was no assurance that they would meet any other Bears there.

  What were they going to do now?

  ***

  There had been a first aid kit in the trunk of the car, along with several blankets. For once, Mary was grateful for the harsh winter conditions in the Rocky Mountains that made such precautions necessary for everybody who drove anywhere when snow was on the ground.

  They stopped at a rest area, and luckily found toilets with running water instead of outhouses. Andre stayed in the car, a blanket tucked around his chin to hide his bloody clothes while Mary slipped into the bathroom and washed and bandaged her neck before ripping a hole in the middle of one of the blankets to wear.

  When she returned to the car, Andre held a small black cell phone in his hands. He stared at it with a hungry, frustrated expression.

  "It was Zoe's," he muttered. "But there aren't any contacts or a phone log in it."

  "Maybe somebody will phone us," she said. If they don't, what will we do?

  "Maybe."