by Sierra Dean
But Desmond wasn’t the one who kept secrets. I was.
I ran my palms over the wall again, hoping a handhold might reveal itself, but what was I going to climb out to? They wouldn’t help me out at the top, they’d just kick me back down. I’d managed to make it through one landing without serious injury, but I wasn’t immune to broken bones. I couldn’t risk a second fall.
For the time being Desmond seemed content to growl at me and wasn’t lunging or snapping his teeth. Yet.
“Desmond…”
The hair on his haunches stood on end as he stooped his body closer to the floor. I knew wolves pretty well, and this was textbook attack behavior. Guess he wasn’t in the mood to chat.
My wolf had been feeling motivated a few minutes earlier in Peyton’s chamber, and I wondered if she might be willing to participate in this situation. When Desmond had shifted to his wolf form in the fairy realm, he’d been borderline homicidal. My wolf had been able to control him then. Maybe she’d be able to help now.
Anytime…
Desmond edged forward with an exaggerated pounce. It was an intimidation gesture, and it was working. He was an alpha wolf, for crying out loud. He’d be scary if he was a normal wolf size, but he was like a pony-sized wolf. He could get my head into his mouth with very little effort.
I didn’t want to give him the chance to try.
His ears were flat against his skull, and his lips pulled back to show a terrifying, toothy grin that would make the Joker proud.
Actually, it would probably make the Joker shit himself.
“Okay, bitch, anytime.” She was my wolf. I didn’t feel the need to be polite.
We can’t hurt him.
At least she was awake.
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
He is our mate.
“I know. Just make him behave.”
She growled, and inside I could feel a sensation that defied explanation. A human couldn’t comprehend having a werewolf come alive inside their skin. I could feel her, all fur and heat and yearning. She unfurled, opening like a fist unclenching, and the prickly feel of it made me shudder.
She was getting stronger.
Desmond must have sensed her because he stopped advancing and instead of growling, let out a low whine.
Let me out, she demanded.
I didn’t like the sound of that. “We can’t shift. Not here.”
Let me speak.
That I could do. “Fine.”
My body jerked as if I’d taken an electric shock to the spine. I crumpled to the floor, panting, and spasmed several times. What was she doing? I’d told her we couldn’t shift, and this was suspiciously shifting-like in its symptoms.
“Stop,” I gasped.
I shuddered violently, and without realizing I’d moved, I was now crouched in a low squat, my palms flat on the stone. When my mouth opened, it wasn’t because I was trying to speak, yet words came out anyway, and they weren’t mine.
“Lie down, beast of the ranks. You have challenged me before and proven unfit. Kneel before your queen or suffer.”
There’d been times in the past I wondered how Lucas had ever believed I was suitable to be the werewolf queen. As Secret, I wasn’t. But the wolf inside me? She was a different story, and she commanded so much respect, I understood now what he’d seen. She was the queen, not me.
Wolf-Desmond edged forward, sniffling the air, still showing his front fangs in a sign of fearful defiance. Because of the position I was in, I was now facing the wolf head-on, his snout barely a foot away from me. I was terrified, but my wolf was having none of it.
Show no fear, foolish girl. Don’t make him doubt us.
Easy for her to say since she wasn’t the one whose body was on the line. What did she care if my human face got ripped to shreds? It only mattered to her if I died.
I swallowed hard and focused on the rough feeling of the stone beneath my fingers. It was wet and slippery, and I curved my nails around one of the cobblestone edges and gripped it until it hurt. Focusing on the pain took my mind off the trail of saliva dripping from Desmond’s yaw to the floor.
“BOW DOWN.” The voice ripped from me and sounded like something echoing from the bowels of hell itself. If it hadn’t come out of my own mouth, it might have scared the living shit out of me, but as it was my fingers began to tremble.
What was this thing inside me?
I had never spent a lot of time focused on the finer details of living with a wolf trapped in my body. For much of my life I’d ignored her completely, using the cool, calming effects of my vampire blood to keep her in line. But ever since my trip to Louisiana, when I’d shifted for the first—and only—time, she was hell-bent on making me acknowledge her.
And she was winning.
More and more often now I was relying on her to engage in partial shifts, or using her power to keep others in line. Right now I was still getting the better end of the bargain, and she had yet to ask for her pound of flesh in return. But the time was coming when she would, I could feel it. She would want to shift, and she would want to run, and once we were in wolf form, I had no idea if I’d wield any control at all.
Sometimes I wondered if she would keep us in that form forever.
A small part of me asked if that would be the worst thing to happen.
Several of the vampires had reacted to my cry, crowding around the edge of the pit to look down at us and watch what was transpiring. Desmond’s lips relaxed so I could no longer see every tooth in his mouth, and he gave a short growl before finally whining and lying down, covering his snout with one paw as if ashamed to face me.
“You do not dare to disobey your queen again. If it happens a third time, I will not be gracious.”
The bitch meant business too. I could feel the truth of her words reverberate through me. She wasn’t one to toss down empty threats, and apparently it didn’t matter that Desmond was our mate—as she constantly reminded me—she would make him regret another assault on us.
I found it bizarre I’d needed to resort to threats against Desmond, of all people. In his human form he was the kindest, gentlest man who wouldn’t dream of doing anything to hurt me. Even the first time I’d seen him in his wolf form, he’d been so careful with me. Yet he was showing an antagonism he never had previously. It was like Desmond was hiding away a part of himself that wanted to hurt me.
I didn’t want to dwell on that thought too much.
I rose to my feet, and Desmond settled into a crouch beside me, butting his head against my thigh like a dog begging for a head scratch. I obliged him, and he licked my fingertips.
“Any bright ideas on how to get us out of here?” I wasn’t sure if I was asking Desmond or my inner wolf.
Considering Desmond couldn’t speak, he wasn’t going to be much help. And taking into account the wolf and I shared one mind, if I didn’t have any notions, she wasn’t likely to be much use either.
I have done my job.
Yeah. Helpful.
“My dear, I can’t help but notice you haven’t been shredded to a bloody mess.” Peyton didn’t sound disappointed so much as he sounded nervous.
It was then I remembered our deal.
“I’ve bested the wolf.”
“But you haven’t killed it.”
“I won’t.” He didn’t need a big speech about my reasons or a plea for Desmond’s release. If Peyton had his way, Desmond and I would be dead before sunrise, and I wasn’t going to play into his plan. He could turn Des against me, but I wouldn’t kill the man I loved.
Calliope’s voice nagged at me, reminding me of something.
You will die standing next to the one you love.
And what was it she’d told Desmond that same night?
You’ll be with her in the end.
No. I refused to believe we’d go down like this. I might be a fairly depressed and slightly morbid sack of shit these days, but I never thought I’d face off against Peyton and he’d win. Never. The
plan had always been for me to leave here with his decapitated head as a trophy.
“I understand if you’re afraid to face me alone,” I called up. “After all, it would certainly be humiliating for all your minions to watch someone with a pulse kick your ass.” I knew Peyton would hate the idea of a human killing him, even if he knew I wasn’t altogether mortal.
He sat down on the edge of the pit, dangling his feet over. One good hop and I might be able to grab him. Maybe if the stones weren’t so slippery.
“Let’s talk frankly, shall we? Now that I have you as a captive audience.” He laughed, and the shrillness of it sent me into a full-body shudder. It might be hubris on his part, but he wasn’t scared of me in the least.
Hard to blame the guy when I was at the bottom of a pit and he’d managed to turn my backup into a wolf.
“Go fuck yourself, Peyton.”
“Or I could have you bound in silver and left to rot, and I could have my way with you until your body was nothing but bone and ash.” His voice was cold and level, but an edge of hysteria crept in as he got further along. “Because silver chains would bind you, wouldn’t they, Secret? Don’t pretend you’re mortal. I don’t feel like playing dumb with you anymore, little bitch.”
Jesus. I’d thought it strange when he was behaving like a manic child, toying with me in a gleeful way. The guy was nuts, but given how much he hated me I thought this whole situation had been strange from top to bottom. But here it was, the venomous loathing I’d been expecting. This was the Peyton I’d visited when he was chained in the darkness. This was the Peyton who had promised he’d see me dead someday.
And here I was, a pawn for him to use as he pleased.
If he wanted to chain me, he would do it.
I drew my sword.
“You’re going to have to take me down first.”
Chapter Thirteen
In the low light from the candles above, my sword didn’t gleam so much as it glowed a dark hellish red color. The handle felt warm in my hands although I hadn’t touched it in over an hour.
Peyton laughed again, and I didn’t like how dismissive he was being.
“I want to talk about you while we have all these people here. I want to talk about what a strange girl you are. Put away your toy. We’re only talking right now.”
I lowered the blade but didn’t sheathe it. My gaze darted side to side, trying to come up with any way I might be able to get up on even ground with him. But that would mean leaving Desmond behind.
I doubted they’d dropped him in here—he wouldn’t have withstood the fall in his wolf form since he’d have landed on his back or broken all four legs. Wolves, while quick and cunning, were not cats, and did not tend to land nimbly on their feet. Maybe there was a gate or door down here we could get out through. Unless he’d been human when they dropped him and the change had come after.
I looked down at the wolf for a split second, wishing he could tell me what had happened to him.
“I think it’s important there are others here to listen this time, Secret. Secret. What an apt name for you, don’t you think? I used to think it was a foolish thing, a stupid name.”
I often thought it was a stupid name.
He carried on when I didn’t reply. “But therein lies beauty, doesn’t it? People will not look much further into a name like that. I remember what you told your mother, that it came from her own letter. Keep her secret. The time is over for keeping secrets, though.”
What the fuck was he talking about?
“It’s a shame Sig isn’t here now to get you out of this. Isn’t the big bad Tribunal leader always saving you when you’re at risk of being exposed?”
A chill crept into my body and refused to leave, making me shiver uncontrollably, shaking so hard I didn’t know if I could keep holding the sword, let alone use it when I needed to.
I had an unsettling feeling I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Secret McQueen, the only Tribunal leader in history who wasn’t a full vampire.” The smile came through in his voice, and though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was grinning like a maniac. “How does that work?”
“I’m half-vampire,” I whispered, but the acoustics of the tunnel amplified my voice as it rose upwards.
“What’s the other half?”
My palms were sweaty, and I took a moment to wipe them both off and held the sword up again, wanting nothing more than to hack him to pieces. But he was out of my reach. Desmond sensed my building rage and growled in response, rubbing his giant head against me as if it might soothe me.
“Human,” I said, not sure why I was still bothering to lie. Peyton knew—he knew what I was because he’d sent The Doctor for me. He knew because he’d worked with my mother. I had spent almost twenty-four years able to keep this secret limited to a handful of people, and now a roomful of vampire rogues was about to learn the truth.
This wasn’t the coming-out party I had planned.
“Now, now, let’s not lie to each other. What’s the other half? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to do the math. Those in this room may not be geniuses, but they’re smart enough to figure it out now, I think. What kind of vampire can make a werewolf kneel before her? What kind of vampire has a werewolf mother? What kind of vampire is wed to a werewolf king? Honestly, Secret, did you expect to hide it forever when you paraded the clues around like that? What’s the other half? Say it. I think you’ll find it quite liberating.”
He was right. The lie was pointless now. “Werewolf,” I grumbled.
“Speak up, dear, the back row didn’t quite hear you.”
I gripped the handle of the sword tighter, feeling the dragon inlay dig into my skin. I would rip him apart. Beheading was too kind.
“Werewolf,” I repeated.
“Yes. Werewolf.” More vamps joined him on the edge of the pit to gawk at me, like I would appear different somehow now that they knew the truth.
What did a half-vampire/half-werewolf look like?
She looked like a pissed-off blonde stuck in a hole with a dog and a sword. What were they expecting? Fangs and a tail? Fine, they wanted fangs, I could give them fangs. I was angry enough.
Feed, I thought, and the fangs sprang forth with no effort. I bared them at the crowd above and took a few steps back.
“I’m going to kill you,” I snarled.
“Your threats are meaningless to me now. You should have used your sword against me when you had the chance. But that’s the problem with you, isn’t it? You think too far in advance. You didn’t kill me earlier, and for what? Because you were afraid of what would happen to your pet dog? Now you’ll both die, and I’ll go on living. All because you made a coward’s choice.”
Aw, hell no. I wasn’t dying in some pit.
And I sure as hell wasn’t going to die at the hands of Alexandre Peyton. I hadn’t survived all the bullshit I’d been through already to go out like this. I’d made it through The Doctor—barely—and I wasn’t going to let a sadist with a baby face be the last thing I saw before I died.
Fuck that.
Some of the old me had sparked to life, and I was grateful to know she was still there. The woman who didn’t cower at nightmares, the woman who wasn’t a ghost haunting the hallways of her own life. The old Secret was precisely who I needed to be right then, and I’d previously given up hope of ever being her again.
Apparently all it took was the threat of death to bring about tiny miracles.
I still wasn’t sure how to get out of the pit, but I knew once I did I’d make that little prick regret everything he’d ever done to me.
“Hey, Peyton?”
“Hmm?”
“When I get out of here, I’m going to take your other tooth.”
He faltered a moment, showing uncertainty for the first time, then he steeled himself and said, “Before you die I will have the dog skinned in front of your eyes.”
Desmond snarled, mirroring my bared fangs by showing his
own to the vampire. Undead or not, I didn’t think Peyton would want to spend time with werewolf Desmond one-on-one. I’d normally put my money on a vampire in that matchup, but I wasn’t sure I’d count Des out.
And then I saw it.
I’d been so busy looking for outcroppings of rock to use as a handhold, I hadn’t scoured the walls for anything else. But about three feet under Peyton was a slim hole in the stone. It wasn’t big enough to get fingers into, so I might have overlooked it on my first pass, but it was certainly capable of having a blade stuck into it.
I didn’t know how deep it went, or if it would give me enough leverage, but I was going to find out.
It meant leaving Desmond behind, but I had to believe he was capable of taking care of himself against a few vampire guards, if worst came to worst. Ideally they’d be focused on me, and he wouldn’t be a priority.
I wiped my hands again, wanting to be sure I wouldn’t slip. I’d only have one shot at this, and if the hole was deep enough to get the blade into, I didn’t want to fall. I’d have to act fast, and there’d be no time for second-guessing or mistakes.
Smiling to myself, not caring whether he saw it or not, I hurled my body against the opposite wall. The slippery stone didn’t give me much purchase, but I simply needed a kick-off point. I angled the sword as I pushed towards the wall beneath Peyton, and my focus was all on the small gap between the stones. I jammed the sword into the space, and blessedly it stuck in almost a foot.
I held tight to the handle, knowing I’d need to have the sword in hand when I reached solid ground. I mirrored the move I’d just made, reminded of jumping window to window in the Paris alley only the night before. That had been much easier with the jutting ledges and no wet stone, but the mechanics were the same.
Bracing my feet on either side of the sword, I pushed the blade deeper as I got my bearings. Ideally I’d have been able to jump right up to Peyton, who was now scrambling to his feet. But if I jumped up, I couldn’t take the weapon with me. I pushed off again, upward, and yanked the sword from the wall as I went.
I hit the edge of the pit, and a few of Peyton’s crew shuffled backwards, clearly not expecting me to have managed an escape. I clambered out before they had a chance to get their wits about them, and shook my mussed curls out of my face.
