Helpless rage surged through Jim. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kill somebody.
He had to do something, anything, no matter how pointless.
Bellowing curses that emerged in animal howls of fury, he flung himself against the sides of his enchanted cage, ramming his body against the metal walls over and over, ignoring the pain of the impacts. The cage didn’t give, but that didn’t stop him from trying again. And again.
And again.
Faith!
“Cut it out!” a male voice yelled. Something banged against the top of the cage. “Save your energy, London. You’re going to need it.”
Jim growled at his tormentor.
Suddenly the crate swung into the air. He lurched, then braced his legs apart as the metal box began to rock. They were carrying it somewhere. Jim tensed.
The moment they opened it, he was going to make somebody bleed.
“What do we do with it?” a voice asked.
“Throw it in,” Celestine replied, excitement in her voice.
Shit! His stomach lurched as they swung the crate back, preparing to hurl it. His ass slapped into the rear panel as the box flew through the air and arched downward.
It hit with a stunning impact, tumbling over and over, rattling Jim around like dice in a cup. He bit his tongue and tasted blood.
Light flared as the cage disappeared from around him in a swirl of magic.
Finding himself free, Jim immediately called his own magic. It surged around him, but even as his body transformed to Dire Wolf form, he wondered why the hell they were allowing it.
Warily, Jim straightened to his full seven-six and took a cautious look around. Smooth black rock walls surrounded him, slick as glass. Light cascaded from above. He looked up and discovered he stood at the bottom of a thirty-foot pit.
High overhead, a crystal chandelier shimmered, hanging from what appeared to be a domed ceiling. Jim’s gaze narrowed as he calculated whether he could—
Bodies plunged toward him.
With a startled growl, he leaped aside as the six Dire Wolves landed lightly on the stone floor.
Reynolds grinned. “Ready to die?” Claws clicked on the marble as they moved toward him in a feral, menacing slink.
Jim looked from him to the ring of vampires standing around the edge of the pit. “Who the fuck do I look like, Russell Crowe?”
With a roar, the werewolves charged.
The plantation house stood in the midst of a rolling two-acre manicured lawn, a towering, elegant structure with Doric columns and a broad, wraparound porch. The only discordant note was the red and yellow stained glass in the windows. Lit from within, the plantation reminded Faith of The Amityville Horror more than Gone with the Wind.
As if to confirm that negative impression, male shouts and laughter rolled across the lawn. Celestine’s merry band was having far too good a time, which didn’t bode well for Jim.
Was she too late? The thought made her sick.
Faith studied the house with burning eyes. So many police cars were parked on the lawn, it looked like a cop convention. Somebody had even brought one of the department’s motorcycles.
She had to get to him, but she couldn’t afford to just charge in like Bruce Willis. There’d be guards armed with TASERs, werewolves, vampires, and…
Jim in there getting his heart cut out.
Fuck it.
Running fast and low, she darted out of the woods, senses alert for any hint of human, vampire, or Dire Wolf. Moving in a rapid slink, she headed for one of the police cars and crouched behind its cover, nose flared, ears pricked.
Nothing.
Bursting through the front door seemed the height of stupidity. She needed a distraction, something that would draw at least a couple of the bad guys away from Jim.
Her gaze fell on the motorcycle. It was a hefty beast, one of those BMW had donated to local departments when the German manufacturer had taken up residence in nearby Greer.
She walked over to it and laid a clawed hand across its seat. Slowly, she rocked the cycle back and forth, testing the weight. It felt surprisingly light in her Dire Wolf form. Grabbing it by the handle bars and seat, Faith straightened, whirled, and hurled it like a discus.
The cycle spun through the air and landed on a group of parked Crown Vics with a crash.
Then she ran like hell.
Even over the snarls from the pit, Celestine heard the metallic crash. She turned, irritated. “What the fuck was that?”
The vampires around her shrugged, more interested in the bloodshed going on below. “You,” she snapped, pointing at three of them at random. “Go check out that racket.”
Faith found a long, low building attached to the rear of the house—probably a kitchen, if she knew her antebellum architecture. The lock on its screen door was hardly a match for Faith’s Direkind strength. Twisting the knob off, she threw it away and slipped onto the porch.
A male voice shouted in pain. She hunkered down, heart pounding, then crossed the porch to the kitchen door beyond it. Another twist and shove forced it open. Faith stepped inside.
Breath held, she scanned the kitchen warily, spotting an industrial stove, a freezer, and…
The nude, gutted body of a man lying on the table.
Faith’s heart stopped. A moaning whine of agony escaped her as she took one long stride to reach the corpse. The world spun around her, and she thought for a second she was going to faint for the first time in her life. She looked down, tasting brass and blood.
It wasn’t Jim.
Her legs gave out, and she fell into a chair. Burying her face in her hands, she let her shoulders shake just once.
She should have realized it wasn’t Jim. The victim was too skinny and short, and the sticky sweet scent of alcohol lay under the reek of blood and spilled intestines.
No time for this. I’ve got to save Jim.
Faith stood up and started for the door that lay across the darkened kitchen. If she didn’t get moving, the next corpse really would be his.
And that wasn’t going to happen, if Faith had to gut every vampire and rogue she could get her claws on.
Jim backed away, watching the rogues’ confident pursuit. He couldn’t afford to let them surround him.
To his left, he saw the blond wolf’s attention shift toward Reynolds. That was all he needed. He lunged, delivering an open handed swat with claws bared, right across the man’s muzzle. The rogue staggered back with a startled yelp.
Jim pivoted and kicked a clawed foot into the belly of the red-haired one standing beside the blonde. The kick landed, but the rogue raked his calf. He ignored the pain, spinning to avoid a grizzled were whose salt-and-pepper coat reminded him of Ayers. Claws tore his shoulder, and he spun to rake the owner’s belly.
Above him, voices shouted in approval and blood lust. He threw a quick look upward.
The vampires stared down at him, avid hunger on their faces. It occurred to him that they didn’t really care who bled, as long as somebody did.
“Fucker!” Reynolds roared, the instant before the Dire Wolf plowed into him like an offensive lineman sacking a quarterback. Jim went down with a whoof. The rogue drew back a hand.
Jim swung out, trying to block, but he was too slow. Claws punched into his belly with an explosion of pain. He kicked up and over anyway, rolling onto his shoulders to send the werewolf flying. Another rogue leaped for him, so he slashed his claws across his attacker’s eyes. Blinded, the rogue stumbled, giving Jim a chance to scramble to his feet.
He curled an arm across his belly. Blood poured over his forearm with a rhythmic arterial pulse. Something red bulged through the crimson flow.
Fuck. That was a wound he couldn’t ignore. He called the magic and transformed into wolf form. The Change was barely complete when he looked up to see a clawed fist coming right at his head.
Jim ducked. The wind of the swipe ruffled his fur as he leaped away. The rogue roared and shot after him.
H
e ran, tucking his tail tight, conscious of the blond-furred wolf that was gaining on him. Wait for it, wait…He called the magic.
It poured through him. Veteran of a thousand transformations, he didn’t let the pain stop him, instead whirling to grab the rogue as the man reached for him. He let their momentum spin them around, and flung the rogue into the pit wall with all his strength. The man’s head hit with a crunch. Blood splattered. Well, Jim thought, with vicious satisfaction, he won’t be getting back up.
Fangs clamped into his shoulder. He roared as muscle tore in an explosion of agony. As Jim turned to batter at his attacker, another set of jaws clamped into the back of his neck. He felt himself being forced down on the ground.
Faith ran down the hallway toward the sound of screams and shouts. She thought one of those inhumanly deep voices was Jim’s. Fear choked her, metallic with the taste of panic. If he died, there was really no point in…
“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Three uniformed cops stepped into her path, their eyes bright with vicious excitement.
One of them bared his teeth, obviously pissed. “You wrecked my cycle, you little bitch!”
“And you spat on your badge,” Faith snarled back.
With a roaring chorus of fury, they charged.
Ingrained cop instinct cried out against what she was about to do. She ignored it and hit the lead vamp with every erg of her strength.
Her fist smashed into his head and his feet flew out from under him. His body crashed to the ground at her feet. She didn’t look at what was left of his face. She didn’t have to. She could feel the gore on her fist.
Faith didn’t let it stop her as she pivoted to rake the second vamp across the chest with her talons. The third threw a roundhouse, and she ducked.
The second one, cursing in pain, drew his weapon. Faith flinched back, throwing up an arm as he fired. She felt the hot pain in her side and knew she’d been hit.
But she didn’t go down.
Instead, she slapped out with one long arm and sent the gun flying. Snatching the vamp that had held it, she smashed him into the wall so hard plaster shattered, then heaved him into his partner. Both went down.
Faith didn’t stop to finish them off. Jim didn’t have that much time. Instead she leaped over their stunned bodies and flew down the corridor.
The hallway opened out into a ballroom, marbled in gleaming black and white tiles. A gang of uniformed vampires stood in a circle in the middle of the towering room, looking down and shouting like men at a football game.
Faith raced toward them…
Boom! The floor shook under her feet as something hot singed her fur. She ducked and spun.
Celestine stood just behind her, wearing a pissed-off expression and a great deal of leather, magic blazing around her hands. “I knew it was you when I heard that crash,” the vampire witch growled. “You just don’t have the sense to stay away.” She hurled another energy blast. Faith ducked, and the spell splashed harmlessly against the column behind her.
From the center of the vampire’s huddle, she heard a man bellow in pain and rage.
Jim!
Without hesitating, Faith flung herself straight into the gang of men. They saw her massive furred form flying toward them and dodged with startled shouts. She soared right past them—and into empty air.
With a startled yelp, she plunged into the pit.
NINETEEN
Faith hit the ground hard and rolled to blunt the impact. Even so, pain radiated savagely up her legs. She ignored it and surged to her feet.
Overhead, some vampire shouted a warning, and the rogues spun. Magic shimmered, and a big black wolf leaped from their midst—Jim.
Shit, she thought, he must be hurt badly to risk changing to wolf form during a fight with that crowd. One of the weres swiped at him, raking across his haunches. Jim bounded, barely avoiding capture.
He transformed, but as he did, she saw his magic twist and snake in a malformed surge. When he returned to Dire Wolf form, his face was twisted in a grimace of agony.
Something he’d said flashed through her mind—if you Change too many times too close together, the magic can turn on you.
Oh, God. He was cutting it too close.
Dammit, he knew it! There she was, rushing in to get herself killed for nothing.
With a roar of pure fury, Jim pivoted, grabbed the nearest werewolf by the muzzle and one shoulder, and jerked. The rogue’s neck snapped like a green stick, and Jim let him fall.
“Taylor!” the heavyset rogue yelled, and drove his fist right at Jim’s head.
Jim grabbed his wrist, opened his mouth, and crunched down on his hand, shattering the delicate bones. The rogue howled in pain and slapped him across the muzzle, raking his face with claws extended. Blood blinded him. Somebody grabbed him from behind in the same hold he’d used on Taylor and started trying to break his neck. Jim twisted, grabbed the man’s arm, and heaved. The grizzled were went flying.
He looked around for Faith. To his horror, he saw Reynolds circling her as she pivoted with him, hot-eyed and wary.
Jim started toward them, but somebody slammed into his knees, taking him down hard. He kicked the heavyset were away just as Ayers landed on his chest. Clawed hands grabbed his throat and dug in.
He felt flesh tearing and drove both clawed hands for the other’s gut. Blood spurted from his neck, but he ignored the pain and forced his talons deeper into fur and flesh. They started sinking into something slick.
With a screech, Ayers jerked away from him, transformed to wolf form, and scrambled away. Jim jumped up, meaning to grab the wolf and kill him before he had time to Change again.
But claws came out of nowhere, catching him across his wounded neck. He stumbled and went to one knee, as fanged jaws plunged toward his face.
Faith saw Jim stagger, and her heart stuffed its way into her throat. She had to get to him. She tried to dart around Reynolds.
The rogue stepped into her path, grabbed her, and slung her against the wall so hard, it drove the breath from her chest. “Uh, uh. You’ve got your own problems, bitch.”
She recovered her balance and her breath enough to bare her teeth at him. “Traitor.”
Ayers, a red-furred wolf, and the heavyset one she recognized as Young were attacking Jim from both sides. He couldn’t last much longer, not with the blood pouring down his chest. He had to Change—but she wasn’t sure he could without the magic turning on him.
The Spirit Link! Her eyes widened as she remembered the psychic bond he’d mentioned. He’d said they could just call the magic and Link. It was their only chance. But she had to get to him.
Reynolds started toward her, his jaws gaped, obviously expecting her to grapple.
Instead she feinted right and summoned her power. He saw it rise and dove for her, clawed hands outstretched, only to grab empty air as she leaped past in wolf form.
With a roar of rage, Reynolds wheeled to lunge after her.
Faith darted across the pit, saw Young blocking her way to Jim, and leaped, sinking her fangs into his hamstring. The big were howled and went down, grabbing for his thigh. She danced aside and plunged in. A red-furred were—Granger?—limped clear at her approach, but Ayers was bent over Jim as the two exchanged a flurry of blows. The chief’s furry testicles hung between his spread thighs.
Faith sailed forward and sank her fangs right into them. The chief tried to jerk around, howling, tripped over her and fell, writhing in the dirt.
Bleeding from a dozen wounds, Jim rolled to his feet and aimed a clawed kick at Ayers. The chief ducked and scrambled off, transforming as he ran.
Swaying, obviously badly wounded, Jim stepped in front of Faith to provide cover while she transformed to Dire Wolf again.
“We’ve got to Spirit Link!” she panted, once she had vocal chords. “It’s the only way you’re going to be able to transform!”
“Forget it.” He didn’t even look around, all his attention on thei
r foes. “If you’re Linked to me when I die, it’ll kill you.”
“If you die, I’m dead anyway!” she said savagely, watching grimly as the rogues regrouped. “I already thought you died once tonight, and it almost killed me then. It’s the only chance we’ve got!”
“Fuck!” Ayers, Young, Granger, and Reynolds were edging around them, obviously preparing to charge. Jim grabbed her hand.
Faith licked her lips. “How do we…?”
“Damned if I know. Just go!” He called the magic as she let her own surge. The pit lit up around them with a hot blue glow.
Having no idea of what to do or how to do it, Faith simply threw her consciousness toward his. For a moment, she touched him, felt the warm, solid strength of his mind.
And then the magic started to burn.
Startled, Faith screamed as Jim’s body began to blaze hot and blue. Shit! Horror rolled over her. She sensed its match in him and knew what he was thinking.
He was losing it! He was going to die, and the rogue fire would destroy her, too.
Jim tried to force her consciousness from his as his body blazed brighter and brighter, the pain building to a searing burn. She felt him start to die.
No! You’re going to live! Faith told him fiercely. We’re going to live! Dragging in still more of the magic, she sent it streaming into him, picturing him as he was—handsome, stubborn Jim, the man she loved, the man she couldn’t stand to live without.
The man she damned well wouldn’t give up.
Even in the midst of his agony, she sensed his startled joy as he felt her love. Seizing her magic with his will, he drew it into his. Strengthened it. Together, they forced their mingled magic to obey. The fire began to cool, swirling around them, shaping itself into their Dire Wolf bodies.
Until at last it vanished, leaving them standing in the center of the pit on shaking legs, whole again.
Panting, they stared at one another, hardly daring to believe they’d survived after all.
Master of Wolves Page 26
