by Kiki Howell
He’d stood at the well, looking down at the moon reflected in the smooth surface. He’d lowered the well bucket, watching the moon fracture into a hundred pieces, as the bucket dipped below the surface. He was pulling the bucket up, when he’d heard the sounds behind him.
“Aye, fetching water late at night. Brave soul.”
“He is. And a fine brave soul, too. Well fed, by the looks of him.”
Gabriel let go of the rope, the bucket falling back into the water. The splash went unheard, as he turned.
Two men stood scant feet from him. How they arrived, so silently puzzled him. Then one smiled, and he knew, and his blood ran cold.
They were vampires.
Gabriel tried to run, but they were on him in a heartbeat. He felt their fangs rend his flesh, biting his neck, blood flowing in a torrent down his shirt. The vampire fed, greedily drawing the life from his body.
From a distance, he heard her scream. He wanted to tell her to run, to get away, but he could only make a wet gurgling sound.
But the vampires heard her. They lifted their heads, blood dripping from their fangs. Wordlessly they rose, leaving him on the ground.
And the sound that would echo in his dreams, and haunt his memories, began; the sound of Giselle’s terrified screams. He lay on the ground, blood soaking into the soil, just as he lay right now, much of his blood now soaked into the forest floor, listening to his wife’s cries and screams, her pleas for mercy. Finally, even those faded, replaced by the sounds of the vampires feeding.
The woman he’d promised to love, honor, and protect, had become prey. And he was helpless to do anything for her.
Chapter Eleven
NATALYA RAN THROUGH the forest; ears alert for any sound, other than her feet on the leaves. Caine had sent her away, and her heart hurt more than she thought she could bear. It didn’t matter the reason, right now it only mattered that she could not be with him, could not help him.
The sharp smell of blood rose up on the still night air. She stopped, startled. It wasn’t animal or human. And neither was it vampire.
It was Nequam.
She frowned. It must be some unfortunate who lived in the forest, who had strayed across the path of the wolves. But she should be on the opposite side from where the wolves were attacking Caine and Malachi. A shiver ran through her at the thought of Caine being attacked, but she pushed it away. She could not go back, no matter what.
Ahead of her lay a body, still in the darkness gathered among the underbrush. She crept forward, ready to flee, if it so much as moved. But there was no movement.
Pushing aside a branch, she looked at the body. The tunic and cloak were soaked in blood, but she recognized the cut and color. Her eyes traveled up the body, as she pulled aside another branch. Then her heart went cold.
It was Gabriel.
She dropped to her knees, taking his cold hand in hers. A knife wound ran along his neck, almost severing his head from his body. There was so much blood on him, around him, that she was certain he was dead. She closed her eyes, still holding his hand. It was a cruel end for him, and she felt a pang of sadness, even loss, for him.
His hand twitched in hers, and she cried out, dropping his hand. His eyes were open, struggling to focus on hers.
“Natalya.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I am sorry.”
“Gabriel, what happened?” She grasped his hand again, chafing his fingers with hers.
“Willem...the Mistress betrayed me. He was sent to.... kill Caine, and you.” His eyes closed, and he breathed out a long sigh. Natalya waited for a small eternity, until he finally drew in another breath.
“I tried to lead them away from you, but Willem knew. He knew about the Nequam, about me.”
“Gabriel, you’re not making any sense. Where is Willem now?” Even as she spoke the words, she knew the answer. He was on his way to kill Caine. Gabriel shook his head. As he did, the gash on his neck gaped open. Natalya winced. She needed to do something quickly.
“Here, try to sit up.” She slipped one arm beneath him, struggling to cradle him in her lap. “Drink, and then we’ll set things right.”
Natalya pulled aside her hair, exposing her neck. Gabriel looked up at her, head lolling on her arm. One corner of his mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile.
“I’ve always wanted to feast on you, Natalya. Never thought you’d be the one offering though.” His eyes closed, and she feared she’d lost him again.
“Gabriel, please. You need to feed, or you will die.” She pulled him toward her, holding his bloody body against hers. “Can you bite?”
“I’m a Nequam, not an invalid. Of course I can bite.” He turned his face to her neck, and she felt his teeth graze her skin. She closed her eyes, as his fangs sank into her flesh. It hurt briefly, and then Gabriel began to suck, weakly at first, then with growing strength.
Natalya braced herself for the rush of enjoyment she’d felt with Caine, but there was nothing. She let out the breath she was holding, and relaxed, letting Gabriel feed. If she’d felt what she had with Caine, here with Gabriel, it would have been too much to bear. It would have been wrong. But there was no sensation, other than a faint dizziness, as Gabriel drank her blood.
Finally, he pulled away, his lips stained crimson. He’d taken a great deal, but she didn’t feel weak, at least not while sitting down. Standing might be a different story.
Gabriel seemed content to lie in her arms, head pillowed against her breasts. She glanced down, and saw the satisfied smile on his face. He turned to nuzzle against her, one hand slowly sliding up the bodice of her dress. She slapped his hand, and pushed him away from her. He landed on the ground with a grunt, then sat up. He shot her a glance from the corner of his eye, before running a hand over his neck, wincing, as his fingers encountered the wound.
She pulled her skirts straight, tugging the bodice of her dress higher. “You seem well on the road to recovery. Now tell me, from the beginning, what happened.”
“It seems I was used, and rather badly, both by Mistress, and by Willem. Mistress sent me along ostensibly to track you, and Caine. But as soon as we were close enough, and Willem had your scent, he decided I was expendable. I suspect that was on Mistress’s orders as well.”
Gabriel stretched, rolling his head from side to side. Even as he spoke, the wound had begun to close. It was an ugly red welt at the moment, but it was fading fast. He turned his eyes to her.
“You were to be killed as well.”
The words hung in the air between them.
“I was to be killed? Willem wants me dead? He can’t kill me. I am under the protection of the Seethe. He’d break the treaty.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Mistress has cast you out of the Seethe. Willem can do as he pleases to you...with you.”
Natalya recoiled at his words. “I am cast out of the Seethe? How can that be?” She rose, her head spinning. Gabriel stood, a steadying hand on her elbow. She shook him off.
“I’m not Nequam, why am I being cast out?”
“Because you choose a Nequam over the Seethe. Because you dared love a Nequam. And because you loved what Mistress Mirella fears.”
“You’re talking nonsense again, Gabriel. Are you telling me she fears Caine?”
Gabriel tipped his head, then shrugged. “She does. There were whispers, from Aranda, from others. Caine has powers that rival the Mistress.” He leaned toward her, and placed a finger to his temple. “He broke her control of his mind. He was the first to ever do that.”
Natalya drew back. “He told me he had. But the Mistress...she’d want to keep someone so powerful, wouldn’t she?”
Gabriel laughed, a bitter sound. “You are a naïve girl, Natalya. Do you really think that there are no Nequam in the Seethe because none of them carry any powers? We have all been cast out because of our powers.”
“We? Our powers? What are you talking about now?
Gabriel glanced down, and she saw uncertainty in his eyes, and it s
urprised her. Gabriel was never uncertain, never less than completely sure of himself, of what he wanted, or wanted to say. He drew himself up, and met her gaze. It was now hard as steel.
“I am Nequam.”
Her eyes widened. This was unbelievable. “How could you be? I’ve never sensed, you’ve never said...”
Gabriel arched one eyebrow. “Potions, and self-control. And possessing something the Seethe Mistress desired more than anything.”
“What does the Mistress have to do with you being Nequam?” But even as she said the words, the answer was clear. Gabriel saw it in her face, and nodded, a sardonic smile forming on his lips.
“Yes. She created me, as you created Caine. There’s some symmetry there. Although there was no jealous suitor who forced her hand, she, too, had her eye on me for a long time. She had, however, wanted me to be a full-fledged vampire, to live with her, rule with her, I presume, for all eternity. Or until someone beheaded us.”
Gabriel took a step toward Natalya, eyes locked with hers. She saw his neck was almost fully healed, with only a thin red line remaining. “She fell in love with me, and wanted us to be together.” He shrugged. “I was attacked by a rogue vampire, someone not of the Seethe, someone far from where they should have been. He attacked. And, well, you know the rest of that story.” He waved his hand. “I was saved, barely, too late to become a vampire, but not too late to become a Nequam. The rogue was found later, beheaded for his actions.”
“You became lovers? And she kept your secret all this time?”
“Yes. Aranda is a marvel at crafting potions. Those disguised my scent, made me appear as a vampire for all intents and purposes, to everyone. Except Willem, damn him, and his wolf’s nose.”
“And what is it the Seethe Mistress desired? You?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Natalya. I’m quite a worthwhile mate. You’d have known that, if you hadn’t thrown everything away on Caine.”
Natalya let out a surprised cry. “Oh God, Caine. He’s under attack. We need to go back, to help him.” She turned, poised to fly back to Malachi’s hut, but Gabriel’s hand gripped her elbow.
“Let me go. I need to...”
“You do not need to. He sent you away, did he not?”
“How can you know that?” She tugged on her arm, but his grip was like steel. “Let me go!”
“No, I will not to send you back into danger.”
“But Caine...”
“Caine will have help. Caine will not fight Willem alone.”
“How do you know that?” He still held her, but she’d stopped struggling.
“Because I called the Nequam...the Fortis, as they are called outside the Seethe. They are on their way, now, to Malachi’s. They will help him defeat Willem. Not you, and not I.”
Natalya could only stare at Gabriel.
“My brothers, and his, will end this with Willem, and his pack.”
CAINE STOOD IN THE door of the hut, eyes closed, breathing evenly. He was aware of Malachi moving behind him, but the old vampire did not speak.
He cleared his mind, pushing the last image of Natalya away. Left behind was nothing, a black space of calm and silence. With one last deep breath, he opened his mind to the world around him, let his senses run free, and let the images come to him.
He saw them on the other side of the ridge. The wolves crouched, eyes glinting yellow in the darkness, still among the underbrush and leaves. They waited, but for what?
Caine sent his mind among them, looking for Willem. He found him, still in human form, close to the hut, watching. With a start, Caine realized Willem could see him. With a staggering amount of willpower, Caine held his ground. Willem was unarmed, and carried no throwing weapons. He stood, silent, against the trunk of a tree. And watched.
He focused on Willem, entering the man’s mind. For a moment, Caine was confused, the images swirling around him making no sense. Then he realized he was seeing Willem’s thoughts and memories, all of them. He saw the Mistress and Willem, locked in an embrace. He saw the Mistress with Gabriel, locked in an equally sensual embrace.
Caine forced himself to focus, looking for what Willem was planning in the here and now. He saw images of Willem with Mirella, heard snippets of conversation. Caine was to be killed; that came as no surprise. Gabriel brought out, then with Willem, and the pack in the forest.
He shook with the effort to follow Willem’s thoughts. Natalya, something about her. She was to be killed.
The shock of that almost broke the connection, but he drew a breath, and redoubled his efforts. He needed to find out what Willem was going to do.
Then he saw why they were not attacking. They were waiting for the night to pass, to attack closer to sunrise. They wanted him out in the open, to leave him dying on the ground, to be burned to ashes, by the rising sun.
Caine opened his eyes. He was drenched in sweat, and for a moment he swayed from his efforts. But Malachi’s hand was on his shoulder, and he steadied himself, before turning to the old vampire.
“They wait for the sun to attack. They wish not to kill me outright, but to see me burned by the sun into a pile of ashes.”
“An evil, cowardly plan.” Malachi shook his head. “And what do we do?”
“We attack them.”
Malachi drew himself up, pulling his robes around him. “So be it.”
They stepped out of the hut. There could be no other way. To wait was both torture, and a means to a sure death. He was heading toward the monster, rather than cowering in fear. It felt right, as it should be.
Caine drew a deep breath, and stepped onto the path.
“Willem! I am ready for you now!” Caine’s voice rang through the forest. There was a rustling behind the ridge, the movement of many wolves, and he knew their confusion, the guarded looks they cast at each other, but they remained hidden. The dark form of Willem separated from the trees, and he stepped forward.
The men faced each other across a small clearing. Willem’s eyes glowed yellow, even though he remained in human form. Caine felt the pulse of the wolf lurking just beneath the surface, sensed the control Willem held on to in order to keep from shifting. Caine wondered why Willem remained as a human, to what end it served.
“Caine.” Willem’s voice reached him across the clearing. “Brave soul come to meet me, rather than remain hidden like the coward that you are.”
“A coward brings a pack. I stand alone before you, Willem. Let’s settle this, whatever is between us, here and now.”
Willem’s laugh was cruel. “You stand with a decrepit old man behind you. Not exactly hero material there. But, if you insist, I can kill you now, just as easily myself. Without my pack.”
From his belt, Willem drew a silver knife. It glinted dully in the starlight. Caine watched, as Willem moved forward, body low, arm moving back and forth, the blade slicing the air with a soft hiss.
“Come on, whelp. Let’s see what a Nequam can do against a real killer.” The knife slashed the air again, as Willem began circling the clearing, moving toward Caine.
Caine followed his instincts, widening his stance, shifting his weight, watching Willem, anticipating his attack. Preparing to counter it. Suddenly, in his mind he heard Malachi’s voice.
“This is not what I trained you for. Fight as you know best, not as expected.”
Caine straightened, arms relaxing at his side. He registered a moment of surprise in Willem’s eyes before the werewolf’s mouth curved into a cruel grin.
“You’re making this far too easy, whelp.” Willem advanced another step. “At least give me something to fight.”
Caine ignored Willems’ words, and focused his mind on the knife. He took hold of it with his mind, pulling it from Willem’s grip. It slid easily from the wolf’s hand. If the situation was not so dire, Caine would have taken a moment to enjoy the look of confusion on Willem’s face. The wolf stared at his empty hand, still poised attack to, then at the knife suspended in mid-air before him.
Willem launched himself onto Caine’s back, pinning him to the forest floor. Caine thrashed beneath Willem’s weight, struggling to breathe.
The knife was just out of Caine’s reach, his fingers inches from the handle. Willem shifted, leaning forward, reaching for the knife. But he couldn’t lean far enough without taking his weight off Caine.
Caine closed his eyes, seeing the knife in his mind, pulling it to him, watching it move through the leaves. Willem let out a grunt, lunging for the knife, just as Caine’s fingers closed around the handle.
As Willem’s weight shifted, and the knife came to him, Caine rolled, sending Willem off balance. The wolf rolled to the side. Caine rolled with him, bringing the knife around in a shining arc, planting the blade deep into Willem’s neck. There was a brief moment where Willem held Caine’s gaze, surprise and shock registering there, along with something that may have been admiration.
There was a sudden flurry of blood, of heaving bodies, clothes Willem wore, shredding to reveal coarse, dark fur. Caine was tossed aside, like a ragdoll. He rolled, arms and legs hitting rocks, and trees. Dazed, he sat against a tree, watching with mixed horror and fascination, as Willem shifted, as his clothes fell away, and his muscles stretched, and tore. Dark grey hair sprouted from skin, and bones cracked as his body contorted, and grew larger by the second.
Caine had never seen a man change to a wolf, and he prayed he would never witness it again. Willem arched and writhed, the silver knife still embedded in his throat. Caine was too shocked to move, as Willem’s jaw elongated, fangs appearing, as if by magic. His fingers bent and twisted, arms and legs contorting as he shifted. Time seemed to stand still, as the horrific processes occurred, but Caine had only drawn a few ragged breaths in the time it had taken.
