by Fel Fern
Bo rode shotgun. Harley just slid into the driver’s seat when they heard the piercing shriek of gunfire at startling close proximity. He smelled them a second later. The hunters pumping out rounds in their gun mounted rides, yelling and laughing like they had all the time in the world.
“Fuckers,” Harley hissed under his breath. He started the engine, shoulders tense. Glass shattered from Bo and Garret’s house.
“Damn it, they better be ready to pay for damages,” Bo muttered under his breath. He kept his gun close to him, and Harley knew the human knew how to use it. “What are we waiting for?”
“Until they move on to the next house and once they’re satisfied no one’s home,” Harley whispered back. Bo nodded. Seconds seemed to stretch on for hours, until the sound of rattling guns began to fade.
Harley didn’t waste time. He started the ignition and headed out into the bright afternoon sun. A spotter yelled from what looked like a modified hummer with its top taken off. A mounted gun turret rotated toward their direction. Before Harley could react, bullets punctured the back of the car. The trunk. Harley swore under his breath.
Those bastards were dead meat if one hit Silas. He’d personally take it upon himself to hunt them down. Hell, if they weren’t severely cornered, Harley would love to change to wolf form. Make them die hard and messy, before going for their throats. How would they like having their positions reversed?
“Harley, let’s go,” Bo hissed.
Harley slammed the accelerator. Bo fumbled for his seat belt. Judging by the empty streets, it seemed the pack reached word to Darkfall’s denizens. Harley glanced at the side-mirror. Behind them, the hummer rumbled toward their direction, speed slightly slower than usual because of its modifications. The shouting figure manning the turret caught Harley’s attention.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing his supernatural vision. The asshole with one arm wrapped in a sling looked familiar. Harley snarled. Same guy he didn’t finish off back in the barn.
“Know someone?” Bo asked.
Harley returned his attention to the road. “One of them tortured Silas. Should have eaten his guts.”
Bo looked pissed at that. “Going to save him for last, huh?”
Harley grinned. “You have a cruel streak about you, Bo. For a human.”
“Gee. I don’t know if I should be impressed or insulted.”
Knowing the hummer wouldn’t catch up with them, Harley drove at full speed. Like he promised, he dropped Bo at City Hall.
“You sure about this?” Bo asked before getting off the car.
“Do you have a cell on you?” Harley asked. He pocketed the phone handed him. “You have Michella’s number on this?”
The human nodded.
“This is exactly the way we planned it, just had to add some modifications. I’ll draw the hunters away from the town center. Sergio and the others will take care of excess baggage. I need Silas, because Sergio says he’s the only one capable of using the chalice.”
Bo nodded. “Be safe, Harley.”
Harley steered the car toward one of the small roads heading out of town. More engines rumbled behind him. Two hummers. Sweat rolled down his back. His heart beat an unsteady rhythm. Not fear for himself, but for his precious cargo in the back. No surprise the hunter with a boner for them called his friends. They didn’t want to waste time and resources chasing after wolves when their goal was Silas and the chalice.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, Harley scrolled through the names in Bo’s phone. He dialed the pack Gamma’s number. Michella picked up on the first ring. She didn’t demand for explanations, only listened.
“Hunters came early. I’m heading to the site right now. Silas is with me. How long will it take for you to get there?”
“I’m already here.”
Harley wasn’t surprised. Among the Esteban siblings, only Michella seemed to possessed un-shifter-like gifts. “See you soon.”
Seeing some of the establishments he passed by ridden with bullets, Harley winced. If Lucius hadn’t been a friend to the pack leaders, Sergio wouldn’t have extended his aid. Safety of the townsfolk came first after all. Would Harley have taken the fight elsewhere? He didn’t think so. The selfish part of him would have done anything to protect his mate. Harley would just owe Sergio a huge favor after—if they lived.
Once he was out of the main town area, thick trees bordered on either side of them. Only an hour left or less, before sunset, and they could get the real party started. Harley found the bald patch of dirt between two trees and went off-road, trusting the vehicle would hold up. Wheels crunched on rough soil and tiny rocks.
Harley and his pack members took this path a thousand times during their frequent run through the woods. He knew it well enough, but he couldn’t rely on the car for long. The narrow and uphill path would give the hunters trouble, and slow them down. He studied the trees. Debated whether they would give him enough shade from the sun, but decided it would do. Harley urged the car as far as the trail could carry it. He parked it in front of a clearing they used for pack challenges and duels.
Harley checked his gear before getting out. He had enough ammo strapped on him to blow up an entire town. Seeing the bullet-ridden trunk, his hands shook as he opened it. Silas lay there, still sleeping, pale face peering from the nest of thick blankets.
He let out a sigh of relief. Harley’s spine prickled a second later. Not far away, he picked up the sound of wheels, of impatient voices and the occasional hammer of bullets of bored hunters. Gently, he placed Silas’s sleeping form over his shoulder. He made sure the blanket covered the vampire from head to foot, before breaking into a fast hike.
More obstacles. Trees and rough terrain, but unlike the Northfield Woods, the Darkfall forest was his second home. Still, the effort wore Harley out. When he spotted the Rubystone Tunnels at the foot of Little Lucy, the smallest of the Triplet Mountains, Harley was reduced to a panting mess.
The figure on his shoulder moaned. Harley stopped and lay Silas down. Above them, the first hint of stars appeared. Silas stirred from sleep, jolting upright. His wild eyes looked around, panicked, probably remembering an old nightmare. Harley crouched down, grinning when Silas relaxed at the sight of him. The vampire surprised Harley by throwing his arms around his neck.
“Easy, baby. We’re safe and together, that’s all that matters. Fight came early,” Harley explained.
“I can tell,” Silas said, nodding to the woods. “Before we start this, I want one thing.”
“Anything,” Harley agreed.
“Kiss me.”
Harley blinked. Silas didn’t take no for an answer. He wrapped his arms around Harley’s neck and kissed him. The vampire got good in the short time they’ve known each other, with kissing with his fangs. Harley grabbed the nape of Silas’s neck, deepening the kiss.
“You lovers done, or do you need more time?” asked a female voice. Not skeptical, just amused. They broke away from each other. Harley spotted Michella a couple of feet from them, arms crossed—a miniature, but much prettier version of her brothers. Harley made quick introductions.
“Are you sure you’re related to those two brutes?” Silas asked.
Michella laughed. “I like your vampire already, Harley, but enough jokes. You two ready?”
Harley nodded. They’d gone through the plan the night before. At first, it seemed insane, leading the hunters right to the loot. Sergio explained it was impossible relocating the chalice, because only Lucius or his descendants could touch the relic. After Harley saw the rough sketch of the tunnels’ layout, he understood. They would draw the hunters into a carefully constructed trap. Prevent them from choosing the ground for battle. In narrow tunnels and in the dark, the mortal hunters would have trouble maneuvering despite their fancy toys.
“Let’s end this,” Silas agreed.
Harley and Michella shed their clothes and shifted. The sound of the hunters came closer to their location. He could also hear bits and pieces of their conversati
on.
“Smells like a fucking trap, Gordon,” one complained.
“Shut up and do your job,” a voice snapped. Gordon. The fucker Harley mistakenly left alive. Finally, Harley had a name to curse.
“Don’t like how these shifters separated us. Cameron and his crew are back in town. They cut communications with us five minutes ago. That means only one thing.”
“I don’t give a fuck if they’re dead. We have one mission from the Council. Get the fucking chalice. So we get it while culling some mutts along the way,” Gordon said.
“We don’t even know what this thing does.”
“What does it matter? We’re foot soldiers. You want me to tell our higher-up how you cowards became pussies?” That shut the others up.
Harley heard enough. They stepped into the cool darkness of the tunnel. His claws and paws scraped on twisted metal and rotten wood—an old mine cart track.
“Creepy,” Silas muttered, shivering.
Harley could relate. Something felt off about the place. To shifters, some locations gave off a strange aura—residue of ghosts maybe, or old horrors. Old ones like these especially, freaked Harley out. Sure, shifters could hold their own against most supernatural nasties, but it was the immaterial Harley feared.
As if sensing his apprehension, Silas reached for him and began rubbing at his ears. Harley wished the vampire could see his glower. He wasn’t some kind of pet that needed reassurance, but it did feel good. Michella took the lead, her slender wolf taking twists and turns Harley marked. Loud footsteps pounded behind them. Lights flickered from a dozen beams, telling Harley the hunters had flashlights on them. Smart bastards.
The entrance thinned. The mine tracks ended until they could only squeeze through one by one. Michella led them into a wide cavern that branched off to four different tunnels. According to the plans, east and west led to dead ends. South was where the vault containing the chalice lay, but it was here they’d hope to reduce the hunters’ numbers.
The three of them spread out, picking hiding areas. A single flashlight shone through the opening. Hunters cursed inside the tiny space. The moment the first man stumbled out, Michella was on him. She finished the kill and gracefully leapt away as a gun rattled from the second hunter. Silas took this one. Harley killed the third, hoping Gordon would be up next. Of course, the coward didn’t. A man like Gordon would sacrifice his pawns first.
By the fifth kill, someone had enough sense to yell for a retreat.
“No retreat, no surrender,” Gordon yelled.
“Fuck you, man. The rest of us want to live.”
No hope for that either. Harley knew by now, more pack members waited outside, ready to deal with stragglers.
“Run and the Council will hunt you down for failure. Either way, you’re dead,” Gordon said in a cold voice.
Harley heard more footsteps and arguments. Harley bared his teeth as the next idiot headed out, running at full speed. Tackling him had been his mistake. He didn’t see Gordon pushing his team mate at gunpoint, using him as a human shield. Harley’s canines were still stuck on the sacrifice’s neck, when Gordon pointed the barrel at his head.
“Bye, mongrel.” Gordon pulled the trigger.
Chapter Eight
It happened in mere seconds, too fast for the human eye to see. Silas glimpsed the hunter using his team mate as a shield. He barely recognized Gordon, with his bloodshot crazy eyes and mouth foaming with rage. Silas heard the telltale click, and saw Gordon pull the trigger in slow motion. Then something inside Silas snapped. The last lock containing his rage maybe.
He was sick of this. Silas was tired of always being the hunted. His pain, his misery he could take, but not the people he cared about. Loved. Hurting Harley had been Gordon’s last mistake. Silas moved, willing his body to exert more energy. More speed, I need more speed. His muscles screamed, but he couldn’t care less. Silas came between Harley and Gordon. The gun roared. The bullet bit deep into his collarbone. Silver streaked inside him, working instantly, but Silas ignored the pain and everything else. He focused on the rage.
Gordon opened his mouth to howl. Silas closed his right hand to a fist. Heard the satisfying crunch of bone as his fist met Gordon’s cheek. The hunter stumbled, momentarily losing his balance. Silas reached for his shoulders, bared Gordon neck and sunk his canines. Rich blood flooded into him. Hunter’s blood. Silas would have kept on going, until he felt Harley nudge his huge furry head at his leg.
Disgusted, Silas let Gordon’s corpse go. The hunter that came out of the shaft stood paralyzed at the sight of their leader dead.
Michella’s human voice spoke, “There’s no further need to shed blood. You can either walk out of here dead, or alive. Surrender now and our pack members waiting outside will let you leave unharmed.”
The hunters didn’t take long to decide. “We surrender.”
Silas bent down to hug Harley to him.
“It’s over,” he whispered. Silas groaned when Harley licked at his cheek.
He felt Michella’s hand on his shoulder a second later. “I’m going to make sure the hunters don’t stray far.”
“You aren’t afraid they’ll come back with more men?” Silas asked.
Michella grimly smiled at him. “The Order doesn’t tolerate failures. Those hunters are dead men walking, but cowards will take any way out. They’ll run, but we won’t be the ones delivering their death sentence. Their own kin will find them.”
“What about the chalice?” Silas asked.
“They won’t make another move so soon. Don’t worry about it. We’ll discuss this matter in more detail later on.” Michella came prepared. Silas saw her walk over to the corner of the room to get a first aid kit.
Harley whined at her when she sat it down and examined at Silas’s wound. “Don’t crowd,” Michella told Harley, who thumped his tail impatiently.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Surprisingly doesn’t hurt all that bad. I think it’s because I took Gordon’s blood,” Silas answered.
Michella efficiently took the bullet out and had his wound dressed and bandaged in a matter of minutes. “Good news. It’s not going to kill you, but it’s going to take time to heal.”
Silas nodded, remembering the time Harley look a silver bullet for him.
“I’ll check on the hunters, you guys make sure the chalice is fine,” she said.
“How do I find it?” Silas asked.
“Reach deep within you, Silas. You’ll sense it and know where it is.” With that parting remark, Michella shifted back to wolf form and followed the hunters out. Silas saw Harley watched him with serious amber eyes. He took a deep breath and rose.
“Come on, boy. Let’s find out what’s so special about this chalice.” Silas dusted the dirt off his jeans.
Harley’s fur brushing against his leg felt comfortable. They didn’t speak, not even when it was no longer fur touching him, but human skin. Back to human, Harley walked beside him, understanding his need for silence. Shyly, Silas reached out and laced his fingers with his mate.
Silas kept on walking, his feet seemingly knowing where to take them. He saw the outline of the cave in his mind’s eye. Knew Lucius’s blood gave Silas access to his memories. They took twists and turns, finally coming to a dead end.
“Huh,” Harley muttered, rubbing at his jaw. “Is this some kind of Lord of the Rings trick? You know the password in the language of the dwarfs or some shit?”
Silas couldn’t help but laugh. He punched at Harley’s shoulder. Harley grunted. Silas touched the rock wall, and gently caught his hand at a sharp ridge. Blood welled. Tiny droplets kissed the rock. Nothing happened for a couple of seconds.
“That’s it?” Harley asked, sounding dubious. Both of them jumped backward when the wall shuddered. Harley grabbed his arm, ready to run, but the wall didn’t collapse, only slid open to the left like a sliding door.
“I’m impressed, vampire,” Harley said.
“Who told yo
u to doubt me?” Silas teased back.
Together, they entered the tiny chamber. He didn’t know what to expect. An elaborate or mystical room perhaps. Too bad it only looked like the rest of the cramped and dusty mine—with the exception of the tiny spring at the end of the room. Beside the well of water, lay a surprisingly plain looking-bronze cup, rusted and aged with time.
Silas walked to the spring, knelt, and studied the cup. Harley joined him, frowning.
“Is this going to give me eternal life or something?” Harley asked, probably to diffuse the tension.
“Let’s find out.” Silas dipped the cup into the spring until it was half full. Harley stopped Sila’s hand before the rim of the cup touched his lips. The werewolf’s gaze grew serious.
“Silas, we don’t know what that thing does. What if it fucking poisons you?”
“I don’t think it would do anything bad. I mean, Lucius’s job was to guard it. The hunters want it badly. Trust me.”
Reluctantly, Harley let him go. Silas raised the cup to his lips and drank. Cool mountain water slid down his throat. He blinked.
“Well?” Harley asked.
“Nothing.” Silas couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his tone. He was about to place the cup back down when Harley drew a quick breath.
“Silas, I think your wound is closing.”
“That’s impossible.” Silas ripped the dressing, closing his mouth when they glimpsed the wound immediately closing.
“Wow,” Harley said after. “Christ, I think I’m beginning to understand why the Order wants this so badly. With this, they have something better than regenerative abilities.”
Silas shuddered to think what the hunters would do if they managed to obtain Lucius’s treasure. He weighed the chalice in his hands, marveling at how such a tiny thing could be the cause of so many problems. Despite Michella’s assurances, Silas knew the hunters wouldn’t stop coming after them. That list included Harley and the rest of his pack—people, complete strangers, who risked their lives for him. Silas couldn’t go through another episode again.
“Silas?” Harley asked in a careful voice. It was as if he knew where Silas’s train of thoughts was heading to.
