A roar from the side drew both of our attentions for an instant, as Dakota’s war form regained her footing and threw herself furiously at the Skinwalker. There wasn’t time to kill the creature before she entered the fray; I could only hope she had learned how to fight in this form. I rushed the Skinwalker, fast enough for it to lose track of me for a moment, and pressed my blade against its own. Not the most ideal maneuver considering its strength and leverage, but I hoped to distract it from Dakota’s heedless entry.
To my dismay, Dakota barreled forward in a display of predatory brute strength, sinking claws into the chest and back of the ancient Walker and biting deep into its extended shoulder. Her attack lacked the finesse a more experienced werewolf would have brought to the fight, and I knew she was in trouble.
Unfortunately, the Skinwalker knew it too. The fiend grinned at me over our crossed blades, pain mixed with naked victory in its eyes. I felt my own eyes widen as I read its coming actions in the movement of its body.
The Skinwalker tore free from Dakota’s grasp, sacrificing strips of ragged flesh as it did so, crossing its feet and spinning in place, pivoting with enough force to send me stumbling back. I was forced to drop prone and roll as its follow-up arc split the air where my torso had just been, and though I threw myself back to solid footing in an instant, it had more than enough time to swing its heavy blade around, carving through empty nighttime air and werewolf alike.
No!
The blade, silver edged as it was, split Dakota’s tough war-wolf hide without resistance, cutting into her at an upward angle and only barely stopping at the spine. The Skinwalker didn’t want to kill her, not yet, not outright. With a heart-wrenchingly perplexed expression, Dakota’s mighty form crumpled to the ground, trails of smoke reaching lazily upward from the burnt edges of the life-threatening wound. An alarming amount of blood gushed readily from her side.
The Skinwalker wasted no time in leaning over her, jaws distending and stretching in an unearthly, horrid way that made even my dead stomach wish it could turn. It’s trying to take her skin. In desperation, I threw myself forward, intending to let Melhir take its face off as I planted my feet on either side of my monstrous, heavily bleeding lover. The Skinwalker howled, an unearthly sound that did little to dissuade me as he brought the massive blade overhead in a massive chop.
Mistress!
Mira’s concern was not unwarranted; a straight stand off with a much larger, stronger supernatural was not my forte. But neither could I move and let it have Dakota. So I blocked, and while Melhir and the creature's unnamed sword both held, I was forced to brace the blade across both hands as the raw strength and force behind the blow bent me backward over her unconscious form.
We clenched for a long moment, and my opponent had the clear advantage, slowly bending me back to an uncomfortable, then painful degree. But still I did not give, and I answered its distorted snarl of victory with one of my own. I still intended to kill it tonight.
After a moment, the Skinwalker’s howl was answered defiantly by echoes of another one from the treeline, and, for the first time tonight, I saw headlights on the road in the distance, breaking the curve of the road off ahead of us.
Mistress, the wolves are here! They’re going to ruin everything!
I knew that, but I was currently too busy to even think a proper response in Mira’s direction. I felt my dead flesh straining as my spine creaked under such great strain, and my auric senses told me that beneath me Dakota’s life force waned. Finally, I could bear no more, and was forced to fold and fall to the ground under the greater pressure of the Skinwalker’s might.
I rolled immediately to the side, the great blade of my enemy splitting the asphalt where I landed, barely missing me. I heard the screeching of automobile brakes, as lights approached and swerved to the side of me. I heard the roaring challenge of what could only be Ralof’s war-form trumpeting a challenge from the treeline. But victory was within my grasp.
I rolled on the dirty ground, then braced myself, lashing out with a sharp, precise kick. Normally, such a strike would pose no threat to a creature like the Skinwalker, but the ambient discomfort of the anointed-silver stiletto heels I’d suffered all night finally paid off. The deadly spike bit into the Skinwalker’s leg, splitting its flesh and cracking a mutated femur, my own supernatural strength driving the heel in. One of the creature’s alien legs buckled, and handed me a moment of shock to capitalize on.
I let the smell of Dakota’s blood sink in, and released myself to the bloodlust of the fight. Flexing and flipping to my feet, Melhir ripped into my foe between its ribs, once, twice, deeply before it could react. When the Skinwalker recovered enough to counter, it threw a powerful backhand at me with the greatsword still in its grip, but I would have none of that. I stepped into the blow, blocking its momentum with a sharp open-palm strike to the Skinwalker’s elbow. Bones in my palm cracked from the force, but I didn’t need them right now anyway. The Skinwalker stumbled, and I ducked under its extended arm with a graceful pivot, and drove Melhir straight up into its throat and on into what passed for its brain.
Well, that was how I saw it going in my head, anyway. Instead of letting me have my graceful killing blow I could brag about to Dakota later, the dirty abomination stumbled and stepped back, Melhir carving a fissure into the side of its ugly face, its life spared by a fluke of luck more than any skill.
No matter. I was just about to leap upon it, rend its flesh with my claws, sink Melhir into one of its vulnerable eyes and drink its lifeblood, when suddenly it was gone. I watched helplessly as the Skinwalker was spirited away by the barreling force of Ralof’s war-wolf form, carrying a massive warhammer and impacting the Skinwalker with the force of a vengeful, protective, runaway train.
I almost snarled at him, encroaching on my kill and getting in my way, but I fought the blood haze back just enough to reign myself in to the necessary level of propriety. Ralof’s hulking form glanced my way, giving me a lingering look that would have chilled any living mortal to the bone. But he managed, barely, to do the same, reining himself in though the back of his lips still quivered and lifted as if he wanted to snarl.
Meanwhile, at least thirty feet away, the Skinwalker tumbled, coming to a stop on the open ground near the far edge of a curve in the isolated highway. Analyzing it with my veteran’s eye, I could tell it had more broken bones than I’d given it, no doubt from the terrific impact of Ralof’s arrival. Its aura was also weakening, and I could see the colored threads of a warrior’s greatest foe, fear, snaking its way through the muted, dirty lights.
Vehicle doors slammed nearby, and growls from more lupine throats than Ralof’s merged with his in an ominous rumble. I threw myself at the Skinwalker, desperate to deplete the reprieve the pack leader had unwittingly given the creature and, yes, still eager to taste its blood on my fangs. But the Skinwalker proved capable of overcoming its own pride at last.
It took one long look at me, sprinting toward it with Melhir hungrily extended, then glanced around at the swiftly-closing circle of snarling, furious war-beasts, and it finally did the sensible thing. It leapt into the sky as its form bubbled and warped. I skidded to a stop in the dirt alongside the road, watching the massive silhouette of a Roc flap away into the night.
Sang de ma Maîtresse! It was all I could do to restrain myself from snarling or giving into my rage and frustration, even as I willed away the red haze fighting to govern my vision. My planning had been for naught; the Skinwalker survived, and I had no doubt it would return. I’d read that promise in its eyes before it departed.
Why can’t everyone just listen to you, Mistress?
I sighed. I know, right?
Like me.
You are hardly a good example, Mira. But the exchange still left a smile growing helplessly, clearing the lingering bloodlust from my mind. At least until I remembered Dakota.
30
Hero's Luck
Dakota
“Dakota?” I heard my nam
e being called and distantly recognized Amorie's voice through the fuzzy haze my thoughts had become. "Dakota? Dakota, please…"
"Amorie, could you please stop yelling… My head is killing me." I groaned dryly.
"I… Dakota, I was whispering."
I struggled to pry my eyes open, and wondered who had glued them shut. I lifted my hand to scrub at them and hissed as a pain suddenly shot through my side. “Ow!” A rather pathetic whining sound escaped my lips.
Amorie pushed my arm down. “Be still, my silly little wolf. You are hurt. Here.” A soft, warm cloth swiped delicately across one of my eyes then the other. “Is that better?”
I peeled my eyes open and blinked a few times to clear the blurriness away. Amorie’s face hovered over me, and behind her, I could see the ceiling of the pack house living room. I startled and tried to sit up reflexively, but a pain screamed through my side and Amorie put both of her hands on my shoulders, holding me down. “The Skinwalker!”
Amorie sighed and shook her head. “Gone. It retreated before I could kill it, I am afraid.”
I frowned. “The pack? Elisa? Holy crap, is Elisa okay?”
Amorie nodded. “Elisa is fine. She is far better off at this point than you are, I should say. And the pack is all here, Dakota. You’re home.”
“Better off than me? What…” I looked down and saw that my torso was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages from my ribcage to my hips. Someone had slipped a pair of boxers and a sports bra on me at some point which meant I had been really out of it since I had no recollection whatsoever of anyone maneuvering me around to dress me. “How did… Oh…” I suddenly remembered the Skinwalker’s gruesome human-shaped form and the glinting silver sword slicing through the air before me.
Amorie laid her forehead against mine. “I was so worried about you, my little wolf. Why… Why did you not listen to me? To Mira?”
I closed my eyes again and considered that. Pain was starting to reverberate throughout my body from the doubtlessly nasty wound in my side. “To Mira? If I listened to Mira, I’d have donated myself to the vampire’s equivalent of a soup kitchen by now.”
Amorie snorted mildly. “Fair.”
“But… As for you… I’m sorry, Am.” I sighed heavily and found that my right arm didn’t cause massive pain when I moved it just enough to lay my fingers against Amorie’s arm. “I had no idea what you were capable of.”
“I tried to tell you.”
“I know. But I was afraid for you. I love you, you know?” I opened my eyes to read her expression. Amorie’s sapphire eyes sparkled back at me.
“I love you too, silly little wolf.” She pressed her lips to mine tenderly and I kissed her back. As she pulled back from me, I became aware of my Alpha’s presence on the other side of the couch and glanced up to see Ralof standing over me.
“Welcome back.” Ralof rumbled quietly.
I smiled. “Thanks.” I chewed at my lip a little. “Are you mad at me or are you really, really mad at me?”
Ralof snorted and crossed his arms. “Should I be mad for some reason I am not aware of?”
“For dragging Elisa—” I clipped off my confession as I remembered Elisa’s earlier argument on that same topic. “Just in general, I guess.”
Ralof bent enough to put his hand on my shoulder and give it a squeeze. “No, Dakota. I am not mad at you. In fact, I am proud of you.”
I blinked. “Proud for what?”
“For doing what you believed was right, for facing an unthinkably powerful opponent and surviving, and for having the head to send for help when you needed it.”
I mulled that over for a few seconds. “I guess… that makes sense.”
Ralof nodded. “I assure you, it does. It does not mean that you did not make any mistakes.” He eyed me sternly, raising one bushy eyebrow. “For example, it was rather foolish of you to attack the Skinwalker alone in your war form which we had already established you were not practiced enough to handle effectively.”
“I wasn’t alone. I was with Amorie… And I wouldn’t have attacked it in my war form if my war form hadn’t insisted on coming out suddenly.”
Ralof grunted. “Then that is another thing to work on. Do not worry about it over much right now. You are alive, and so is everyone else. I can always lecture you on what you could have done better when you are well again.” His eyes twinkled with humor.
I groaned. “Copy that, boss.”
Ralof smiled and nodded. He pressed his lips into a line as he glanced up at Amorie then apologetically back to me. “I hate to say this, but it would be better if Amorie was not stationed in the living room just now. The full moon is tomorrow and the pack is rather stressed. Having an outsider in their inner sanctuary when another outsider has just intruded in their territory and hurt some of their pack is not the best idea.”
Amorie nodded without seeming offended. “I understand that, Ralof, but Dakota needs me right now.”
Ralof nodded to Amorie as genially as could be expected. “I understand you want to stay with her, but I assure you we will take care of her.”
Amorie opened her mouth to speak again but I cut across her. “Hey Am?” She paused and looked down at me, raising an eyebrow in query. “I’m kinda hot. Would you mind carrying me to that hammock in the back yard? I think I’d feel better there for now.”
Ralof and Amorie exchanged a look, then he nodded lightly and squeezed my shoulder once more before turning to move away. Amorie extracted me far more gently than humanly possible and carried me smoothly out into the back yard. The air was a bit warmer than inside the house, but that wasn’t the point, and she knew it as well as I did.
Amorie settled me against her and laid us both into the hammock. At first, I wondered if this had been a terrible idea considering how much movement goes on in a hammock, but as soon as Amorie settled us in together, her movement ceased entirely. I laid my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes as she held me in the slowly rocking hammock. “Thank you for not making a big deal of it.”
Amorie kissed my temple softly. “Anything for you, my little wolf.” Her voice held a note of fear, something I had not heard from her often.
“I’m okay, Am. Really.”
Amorie’s breathe caught slightly as she inhaled to speak. “You didn’t see what he did to you. At least, not from my point of view. You… You didn’t see your body laying there still, drenched in your own blood, so much blood Dakota… And…”
I made a soft shushing sound. “I’m sorry, Am. I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you.”
Amorie’s mouth quirked up. “But everyone keeps telling you that you can not trust me, no?”
I shook my head slightly. “Really, I’m just very, very new at all this supernatural stuff, and I’m not some superhero who has all the answers right away. I’m just a newbie werewolf with freaky fire-hands who… still has a whole lot to learn about the supernatural world.”
Amorie smiled at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh? If you knew all of that, ma chérie, then why did you attack the Skinwalker?”
I considered that for a moment, eyes closed, resting against my girlfriend’s side, grateful to be able to feel her against me after watching the Skinwalker try so hard to take her away from me earlier. “Benjamin Franklin.”
Amorie blinked. “What?”
“All that is necessary for evil to win is for good men to do nothing. Or something like that.”
Amorie’s expression softened and she pressed a kiss softly to my lips. “I believe that was Edmund Burke, my love.”
“Was it? Well, some smart guy said that, and I guess that’s why I did what I did.”
Amorie nuzzled against my cheek softly. “Then I guess I can not hold it against you.” We laid silently together for long enough that I started to doze. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard my Amorie say, “You are a silly, sweet, brave little wolf.”
I sounded almost drunk as I murmured, “I love you too, Am.�
��
31
Making Peace
I woke up in my bed with Raelya curled up on my feet in wolf shape. I didn’t remember being moved from the hammock to the bed, but it was easy enough to guess how that might have happened. Raelya lifted her head as soon as I reached for my phone. I groaned a little at the pain in my side, but it was a mere shadow of the pain it’d caused me the night before. Which is to say, it was still bad, but the night before was far, far worse.
Raelya moved gingerly up to my side, flopped down against me and started nuzzling my face. I bumped back against her face with mine until she seemed satisfied and laid her head down against the side of my head while I thumbed the lock on my phone and found the expected message waiting.
“Had to go for the obvious reasons. Call me as soon as you can. I love you. -Amorie.”
I smiled at that and glanced at the clock with a sigh. It was a few hours before sunset; I’d slept most of the day away. I laid my head down and thought back on the night before and fuzzy memories of the aftermath of the fight with the Skinwalker started coming back to me.
I vaguely remembered Andrei sitting near me in the back of the truck, speaking to someone about coming to clean up the evidence and make sure the area was safe. No doubt he was on the phone with SII and they would be responsible for making sure no Unawakened folks in the area would be harmed by obvious evidence of a fight with a dragon or a spare griffon beak laying around in the road. Not that there’d be a griffon beak left. The Hellfire would never have left without cleaning its plate.
All things considered, I was really lucky just to be alive. The Skinwalker could have done a lot more damage if we hadn’t been so lucky. In fact, I wondered if we could have beaten it at all without Amorie. I had no real concept of what Ralof and his hunting party were capable of. Whatever they had brought to the fight, they had brought it just after I’d checked out.
Hunted (Auralight Codex: Dakota Shepherd Book 2) Page 24
