Soon, she thought.
Soon.
*
The feral heard the fight begin just as the female entered his prison. He swung his head in her direction as she looked around in confusion, obviously distracted.
*
Normally, full moon duty on the feral would have gone to someone else—or several someones because of the danger—but Adriana had gotten nailed with it because of her stunt. It'd been worth it. Adi entered through the heavy door, her eyes sweeping the cage.
She panicked. Where had the feral gone? Oh no! He escaped? Without thinking about anything—her safety, protocol, anything—Adi slapped the slot open and felt around for the alarm, and a steel band of screaming pain latched on to her wrist.
Her arm was pulled through the slot with such viciousness that it dislocated her shoulder. Adi howled in warning and pain, her voice reverberating in the cloistered space.
No one came.
The wolves were fighting in the ritual. No werewolf was within range to assist her.
Adriana opened her eyes as tears ran down her face for the first time in her life.
She grimaced and stared into the green eyes of the red wolf.
“Sorry,” he ground out, snagging the code card off her neck with a jerk. It snapped the tether, and he stood, pressing the slick thinness of it into the locking mechanism.
The door slid away with a whisper, and he stepped through.
*
The feral glanced down at the female Were and hesitated. He hated that he'd hurt a female. It had been frighteningly easy—and very wrong.
But another female he knew lay beyond that point.
He turned and followed the scent of fighting, the moon—all of it—lending her energy to him.
It thrummed through his body and made his muscles align for finer dexterity in motion, preparing him for fighting.
His form became all wolf seamlessly, a rare transition of speed and smoothness.
He growled low in his throat.
He was ready.
William stepped out of the tree line at the same time that a great red werewolf, one he had never seen in battle or otherwise, appeared.
They stood opposite each other, and their gazes locked for a swollen moment of consideration.
William sprinted to the pavilion just as the feral rushed toward the exact point.
Neither noticed the pair of Singers who calmly walked toward the stage—where blood ran like a river, dripping down steps that had been white marble but moments before and veins that had run gray now ran crimson.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Two of the werewolves lay dead in a pile of their own gore with wounds so deep their bodies had been eviscerated, while three others circled each other, swiping and surging forward in a dangerous game of avoidance that no one could win.
It isn't a game, Julia wailed inside her head, feeling shock eat away at the edges of her mind.
Joseph was wounded and Tony more so. The third Were had rolled into a submissive posture when Tony went toward his throat, merciless and opportunistic. He stilled as if halted by an invisible hand and turned as Joseph did. Their noses alerted them to the new danger at hand.
Julia was turning to look at what could distract them from the important task of killing each other when the scariest creature entered the stage. He was bigger than Tony.
Bigger than life.
Julia gasped and got up from the chair, unsteady from the trauma of the fight. Watching it play out in front of her like a surreal movie had been almost more than Julia could stand.
But she had stood it.
Joseph yelped a plaintive command. “Adi!” Even in his half-wolf form, the worry for her was apparent.
Tony spared him a glance, and knowledge filled eyes that were only half-wolf. Both Were stood nearly seven feet tall on their hind legs. In pose, they mirrored the giant red Were who faced them.
Julia skittered behind the tall chair, her hands gripping the back until they turned white and grew numb.
The huge wolf looked at her, and Julia felt something stir deep within her and the fear melting away as they continued to gaze at each other. She was on the edge of an epiphany when the Packmaster yelled, “The feral! I call total rights!”
What? Julia thought, her hands having fallen away from the chair.
She'd actually taken a step toward the great creature, the emerald eyes sucking her in, when she heard a voice she knew so well.
“Julia!”
William. Relief poured through her, suffusing her body with renewed energy.
She snapped her head in the direction of that voice, finding his eyes of reflective silver staring her down.
At that moment, pandemonium erupted all around her, the melee closing in with the sureness of the cycle of the moon.
*
Singers
Brendan saw the wolves tearing into each other and thought that for all their fierce strength, they weren't the brightest bulbs in the shop. He and Jen had waltzed into the pavilion hardly noticed, thanks to the rabid Were and the loner vamp.
Interesting combo, those two.
Brendan was scenting the area, counting what the odds were, when he hit on a scent he could not identify. Puzzle pieces of scent recognition sifted through his massive storage banks of finer scents.
Then he knew.
His gaze fell on Julia. Brendan felt as if he'd been hit between the eyes with a two-by-four, sucker-punched. All thoughts ground to a screeching halt.
His head swiveled to look at Jen. She didn't know.
Brendan said, “She's the one.” His hands trembled with the knowledge.
“What?” Jen shrieked over the noise. "We don't have time for his melodramatic crap. We need to get the Singer and get out!"
Jen looked into his eyes and grabbed his forearm. A pathway of emotion flowed between them, and her eyes widened, her head snapping in the direction of the girl in white.
“No way,” she breathed.
Brendan nodded. “Way.”
“Shit, we needed more back up.”
“Yeah,” Brendan agreed. He didn't correct her on her language.
They moved toward Julia, the rarest of them all—the one who'd been prophesied to lead their people to autonomy and freedom.
The visual of the small girl in white didn't match the version of fairy tales they'd been raised with.
A powerful Singer will be revealed. A woman. Our queen.
Brendan gulped, thinking about how many of the enemy were around them. He would have to bring out the big guns.
*
Julia took everything in, and then her chest tightened, and she searched the faces even as wolves circled the great red Were she had been mesmerized by. William came for her as wolves attempted to restrain him. It was impossible, with the distraction of the feral wolf, the vamp… and then Julia saw the pair. A girl with strawberry-blond hair and freckles and a man with bronze hair, deep-brown eyes, and dusky skin that was striking against the deep red of his hair. But it wasn't those things that caused her breath to hitch. She knew what they were instinctively.
They were Singers.
Like her.
Julia moved toward them. It felt as if she were coming home.
*
William had a moment's regret that he would need to dispatch the pair of Singers, obvious relatives of each other. He stabbed a Were in the middle of its Change, and the blood of the fallen made the marble slick at his feet.
He went for the Singers, who had almost reached Julia. She moved to meet them.
That would be very unfortunate if they were to touch one another.
*
Julia's eyes widened as she saw William sprint for the backs of the Singers who advanced in her direction, just seconds from reaching her. She called out a warning, loyalties torn. She cared for William, but these were her people, and she couldn't let William hurt them.
*
Brendan scented the vamp and turning casua
lly, almost too late. He flung his hand out at the soles of the vampire's feet as he sprinted for them.
His intent was clear: he aimed to kill.
Fire leaped and drove its heat up the legs of the vamp. That'd get his full attention. Brendan turned dismissively, his eyes already searching for the Singer.
Blood Singer royalty.
That was when the feral Were barreled into him, knocking him off his feet and crashing into one of the marble columns. There was no give to stone, Brendan realized, his bell soundly rung.
Using the last of his consciousness, he lit this dude up too.
Nothing happened. He saw the Were flung away but not before he'd scented him.
The recognition of what he was caused Brendan to halt in surprise, everything else falling away.
It can't be.
But it is.
Jen hollered, “Come on! That's the best I can do. I can't hold that sucker!” She had a hand wrapped around the Singer's wrist. Huge amber-colored eyes in a small, oval-shaped face stared up at him.
Holy hell, Brendan thought. Maybe it's love.
He was drowning in a sea of gold.
“Snap out of it!” Jen shrieked.
Right.
The vamp was on fire, and the red Were was struggling against ten of his own.
The two wolves who worked hardest to restrain the feral were tracking Brendan with their eyes.
Time to shake and bake.
*
Joseph broke away from the feral and bounded after Julia and the two others of her kind. But he was in full wolf form, and his paws slipped on the gore of the marbled surface of the pavilion. He fell twice then finally gained purchase. He was almost upon them when the other Singer flicked her palm at him, and he was thrown backward against one of the pillars of the pavilion. A fissure formed, running from the impact spot of Joseph's body up to the roof.
*
Julia ran, the manacle of the girl's hand hurting her wrist. What hurt more was the lone howl from the pavilion.
It made Julia's heart ache. She closed her eyes tight and felt strong arms come around her, picking her up even as they jogged. The girl's hand released her.
Julia didn't look back. Visions of William on fire and the red Were struggling to get to her kept swirling in her head. She didn't know why it mattered, but it did.
She gazed up into the face of the person who held her, seeing only a strong jaw and eyes trained straight ahead. She felt the heat rise from her toes and let it overwhelm her, consciousness slipping away like a leaf on the wind.
*
Brendan felt the Singer's weight change as it went from live to dead weight, and he grunted with the stress as he jogged. He was profoundly strong, as all post-puberty Singers were. But an almost full run with dead weight? That was challenging.
“Don't fuss, brother,” Jen said, sprinting with him to keep up, a smile locked into place. “We've got company.”
Jen said it as if there were some flies that needed swatting instead of fifteen Were chasing after them.
And gaining.
Brendan redoubled his efforts, sprinting. His lungs were a burning inferno, begging him to stop. But this was where it counted. This was what he'd trained for, and he wasn't going to give back this precious cargo. She was the final hope for his people.
The brush crashed behind them as they reached their transport. The night's coolness had moved in, and he could scent the exhaust that plumed into the air like a spiral of smoke before he saw it. Brendan instantly identified it as their transport.
The door was already flung open. Michael screamed, “They're up your ass!”
Thanks for the clue, braniac! Brendan reached the open door, slid open to accommodate the Singer, shoved her into waiting arms, and turned, a downward arc of talons making a breeze next to his face.
Hell! That was close. There would be no fighting at close range unless Brendan had the element of surprise.
He didn't. That was long gone. A big monster was coming for him now, a half-wolf form with all the dexterity of a full human shape but the strength and speed of pure wolf.
He was up shit creek. But then Jen was there. Her face covered in sweat and her palm straight out in front of her body, her arm plank stiff.
She held back the first siege of the Were by her will alone. Her body trembled with the effort, sweat gliding down her neck and soaking her shirt.
“How long?” Brendan shouted beside her, trying to light as many on fire as he could. They all got nailed at the feet. It was a temporary measure at best. He was a Tracker, not a Pyro. The secondary ability was awesome sometimes for deflection.
Like now, when we need a mondo distraction.
“Get in!” she hissed.
"Okay." Hell… so touchy.
He saw around ten more burst out of the woods. As he got into the vehicle, he grabbed Jen around the waist and hauled her against him then slammed the door closed. He banged on the roof with his fist. “Go!”
Rafael floored it even as the van rocked with the first Were hitting the side with enough force to partially lift the wheels off the trail.
Shit! Brendan looked down at Jen, who was swiping hair away from her temple. She was totally spent.
“Can she?” Michael asked, an unconscious Singer in his lap.
“Nah!” Brendan shouted over the gnashing of teeth and talons on the exterior of the van. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard of metal. “She's totally gassed!”
“Dammit!” Michael laid the Singer on the blanket at his feet and got busy. He threw himself into the front seat, his face mired in concentration… and ten vamps appeared in front of the van.
Rafael had laid on the gas, but the wheels were spinning without purchase. The Were crawled over the vehicle like ants on an anthill. He hissed in a breath, “What the hell?”
“It's okay. It's me,” Michael said. “Just drive!”
Rafael did, as the Were slid off the van to deal with the perceived threat of their primary enemy.
The Were attacked the vamps, which the van slid through as if they were ghosts. Because that was what they were. Michael had executed his tactical advantage to perfection.
He was one of their best Illusionists.
The van screamed out of the Were stronghold, spinning up dirt as it roared off with the four Singers and their treasure, who was barely hanging onto tenuous liberty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Singers
Julia felt as though she'd been run over by a truck—a couple of times. She cracked open one eyelid, feeling the heat of the sunlight before it fell on where she lay. She looked around at yet another bedroom, her surroundings different than those of the vampire or the Were.
She was in a funky-shaped space. The bed stood in a portion of room that jutted out, where three windows faced the outside, her headboard against the central one. She rolled over, gazing at the window. She moved a gauzy white curtain aside, and sunlight struck her like a weapon. Julia squinted.
Rolling hills and green-carpeted valleys that kissed a faraway forest greeted her stare. It was beautiful. A pond shimmered in the distance, swans floating on the surface like feathered jewels.
Julia sat back on her haunches, her heels digging into her butt. She looked down at what she was wearing and was beyond thrilled to see that she was still wearing the white gown. So… they'd dumped her in a bed with the dress on and the whole deal.
Perfect.
She swung her feet over the bed and stood on a wood floor that had planks five inches wide and very red in color. Her gaze swept the room, and she noticed two doors. Julia guessed one led to a bathroom. As she approached them, she chose door number one and turned a crystal knob, faceted like a large diamond. Slightly loose in its brass housing, it turned smoothly and swung open.
A tall narrow window with jewel-toned stained glass let in sunlight broken by colored patterns. The light cast on the floor looked like a shattered rainbow. Julia spied the commode, a pedestal sin
k, and a sinfully large claw-foot tub.
Awesome.
She used the facilities and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and grimaced. That was when she noticed an army of trolls had marched through her mouth and longed for a toothbrush. More than that, though, she wanted to know where she was. For the first time, she was happy to be somewhere new.
These were her people.
Julia had finally come home.
Jen folded her arms across her chest. “You're not going up there.”
They could hear the girl walking around, using the bathroom, exploring. Brendan shrugged. “Why not? Don't want me to hog your find?”
They'd been arguing all morning, which wasn't too atypical because she was so goddamn stubborn. Brendan was busy seething when Michael breezed in.
“Is hotness awake yet?” he asked, rooting around in the ancient fridge for something to snag. "I'm so hungry that I'm pretty sure I'm digesting my own spine.” Michael's whole head was in the fridge when Jen replied, “None of you doofuses need to go hassle her. She's new. We—heck, we kidnapped her! Maybe she needs time to… acclimate or something.”
Michael jerked his head out of the fridge, banging it hard on the top. He grimaced, looking at the dent from the one hundred and twelve times he'd hit his head in the same spot.
“Listen.” He held up a finger. “We saved her precious ass so she better be grateful. I say socialization is in order. And who'd want to do the Were-bride routine?” Michael rolled his eyes and gulped juice out of the carton.
Brendan narrowed his eyes on his brother. “Listen, I got dibs. I did all the hard work. You just poofed some vamps to distract the Were. I ran with her!”
Brendan's keen sense of smell alerted him too late.
The girl had appeared in the doorway, the most forlorn and sad expression he had ever seen covering her face.
Shit.
They all started to talk at once, but she stopped all conversation with, “I'm sorry. You rescued me. I thought that you… that I was wanted…” She burst into tears.
Jen glowered at her brothers.
God! They were so inept! And Brendan was the big-deal Tracker. He couldn't scent her fast enough to curb his words?
Idiots. Jen popped off the kitchen stool, punching Michael as she walked past.
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