by Sam Crescent
“William.”
The words whispered through his mind. He tensed, spinning around, trying to see who had spoken his name. No sign of life down the alley. William frowned but went back to looking at the night sky.
“William, help me.”
He held his head as a sharp pain zapped through his skull. He screamed, lost and alone in the empty street.
Her voice—Katie’s voice was speaking to him.
He collapsed to his knees, crying out in agony, not only from the pain in his head but from the pain piercing his heart as well.
“Where are you?” he asked the empty space.
For the first time since her disappearance, he sensed her emptiness, her lack of life, her resignation. She didn’t believe he would come and get her.
“I’m coming, Katie. I’ll never give up.” He muttered the words to no one but himself.
William prayed that she would hear him, that she would feel his determination to get her back. Feel the love filling his heart.
But there was no answer. The buzzing in his head disappeared as if it had never been there, the pain leaving his body. William mourned the loss. He would have borne any pain to know that she was there, in some distant part of his mind.
Was Katie trying to connect with him somehow? He didn’t know.
Was he imagining her trying to reach out? Had his insanity taken hold and ruined his already scrambled mind?
He would never give up, no matter what.
William got up from the ground and walked down the alley until he was out in the open street. Dawn was fast approaching and he had a few more spots to hit before the night was over.
Only then would he allow himself time alone.
Time spent dreaming about her.
Poppy watched the men from a secluded corner of the street. They were certainly not human, but then as soon as she’d seen them at the bar she’d known who they were. The Valentines were hard to miss. Their reputation preceded them—gorgeous and all deadly. At least, these two were sexy and dangerous.
She tensed, tempted to move from her secluded spot when she saw the crazy one—William—turn on his brother, the one with the sandy hair and shockingly expressive face. An aged vampire who still wore his emotions on his face was someone she would love to meet.
She tensed, wondering what she was supposed to do. She didn’t want to see him hurt. He looked like he could handle himself but he was fighting his brother, being pressed against the brick building by the crazy vampire.
Moments later, after a brief talk that she didn’t quite catch but that looked important enough to have the crazy vampire retreating into himself, she watched the other man leave. Moving down the street, pausing for a second to glance her way. Poppy felt her heart stop as his piercing green eyes sought out the darkened corner, scanning the area for a foe. Unable to sense anything—she wasn’t his enemy—he moved on, not even giving her the time of day.
No man gave her the time of day.
Her eyes went back to William. He was broken, she could see that, but he was hurting and she understood the pain. Why couldn’t anyone else see his raw need to find his mate? She could, and she wished she could help him, but she wasn’t here to help one Valentine. She was here to help in the fight against the wolves and the coming war.
Once William was preoccupied with looking at the moon, Poppy made her escape and followed the other man. The intriguing one. She had no clue why she was risking her life but she had learnt something, even if it had been through eavesdropping.
As he turned to look behind him she ducked behind a nearby bin.
Once he continued walking, she followed him again. He was moving faster now. She tried to keep up. She closed her eyes for a moment as her hair fell across her face. When she opened them again, he was gone. Poppy panicked—her information was important. She’d got some bloody, fresh scars from the witch who’d told her where to go. The Valentines needed her.
The air rushed out of her as she was pulled against a firm body. One hand seized her neck in a death grip while the other roamed her body at the same time as pushing her against the wall.
“Why are you following me?” her captor demanded as he moved his hand down her body. Poppy shrieked as he cupped one of her breasts.
She struggled against him even as her nipple came to attention. Now was not a great time for her hungry body to come alight. The man was ready to choke her, for crying out loud.
“What does a woman like you want from me?” he asked.
She tensed. A woman like her? He hadn’t even looked at her face yet. How dare he make assumptions? She tried to turn in his arms but he kept her still, his hand still threatening to choke the life out of her.
What an introduction.
“If you stop mauling me for a second I can tell you,” she panted. Her nipples were puckered. Her breast felt heavy where it lay in the palm of his hand.
“What if I don’t want to let you go?” he asked.
Poppy tensed again. She knew that the moment he saw her face he would no longer feel that way. No man felt anything for her once they saw the way she looked. He was pressed against her back and she was shocked to feel the pulse of his erection. It was the first time a man had ever had a hard-on for her. The first and probably the last cock she would ever feel. She enjoyed the experience for a second—she’d never known known a man who desired her—before reality set in.
He span her around and pushed back the hood of her cape, which had been hiding her from view.
This was the moment.
He looked at her face and gasped.
The stab to her heart almost winded her. She should be used to that sort of look. She’d lived with it all her life and this man was no different from all the others. But for some reason seeing him look at her with revulsion hurt more than she wanted it to.
If she had time, she would cry herself to sleep later.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Placing a smile on her scarred face, Poppy extended her hand. “Poppy. Nice to meet you.”
He stared at her hand. She had scars lining the skin, just as ugly as the one on her face. Dropping her hand, she kept her smile firmly in place as she died a little more inside.
He hesitated. “What are you?”
Ah, the perfect question.
“I’m a necromancer.”
Chapter Two
The banging was the worst part, as the prisoners were moved from one cell to another. She lay on the bed waiting. The clanking of the cages and the growls of the inhabitants filled the air. She was nothing more than an animal waiting for the slaughter.
Katie twirled her hair between his fingers. She looked at the edges of white mixing with her mousy brown. There was nothing else to do but sit and wait and watch her own magic destroying her. Twenty-three-years old and already she had white hair. Sophie had promised she would go grey first. It seemed strange to be thinking about something as trivial as her hair when she was trapped in a menagerie of immortal creatures.
Katie was past being scared. For weeks she’d been terrified, but it didn’t matter either way—no one was coming for her. She had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die.
The man who had brought her here was clearly disappointed. Day after day he came and forced her into a room with a just-turned male werewolf in human form. He would command the man to turn to wolf and…nothing would happen. Nothing mystical, no connection. She would stand and wonder which one would be the one to bite into her neck and end her suffering. She couldn’t even attract a wolf properly.
What was his name again? The one who had taken her? The strange one?
Her mind was screwy these days. She couldn’t remember a lot of things.
She remembered Sophie—at least, she thought she remembered Sophie. She recalled the name but no longer the face. When she said her name, she felt warm and happy. She was sure Sophie was a friend. She hoped she was.
The only person still rooted in her min
d, the person who wouldn’t go away, was William.
That vampire who refused to disappear from her thoughts. The vampire who had drained her blood and fed her his. The vampire whom she couldn’t stop thinking about, the one whom she yearned to be with more than anything.
Screams erupted through the room. She turned over on the small bed, placing the only pillow over her ears. The man whom she couldn’t remember, the one who’d taken her…he killed in front of her. The men who refused to touch her, refused to go near her—the man who’d taken her would simply kill them. She felt as though their deaths were all her fault.
A couple of the men had come to her and kissed her but nothing had happened. What did the man want? A medal for how undesirable she was becoming?
What is he waiting for? For all of my hair to turn white?
“Witch?”
Is that my name now?
She wasn’t sure. Was her name Katie? The fuzziness was back.
Seconds later she heard her cage open. Someone grasped her upper arm, jerking her from the bed.
Katie screamed in pain and shot a ball of fire from her palm. She cried as the man holding her bit down on her arm, his canine teeth stopping any further attack from her. Katie welcomed the agony. It let her know she was still alive and not lost in limbo.
“William,” she gasped.
She was pushed to the floor.
“William, help me,” she yelled. She fought the hands holding her down.
“Fuck. The bitch burnt me,” one of her captors complained.
“Just give me the shot,” growled the one who had bitten her.
A pinch to her buttock, then sweet heaven, whatever they’d given her allowed her to zone out for a little while.
Clouds drifted over her, slow and beautiful. During these moments, everything became clear as she was whisked away into a sea of open arms, loved and protected.
Whenever they did this, her mind always sought refuge in thoughts of William.
“James will not be pleased,” said the one with the syringe, throwing it into the cage.
“She’s still fighting—at least she isn’t dead,” the other replied.
They picked up her body and moved her out of the prison cell. Their other captives glared at them with disgust.
They watched her for days, taking her away, then bringing her back feeling exhausted and close to death.
She heard her captors talking amongst themselves.
“The witch could bring normality back to all of our lives.”
“The sedative had to be increased.”
“It’s not our place to question what we’re told.”
“I can’t help but feel we’re doing something wrong, trying to use her as some sort of mating queen.”
The guy holding her stopped and glared at his companion.
“You either drop that thought or risk the death penalty. Questioning our leader will get you killed. James is doing what is good for the pack. Either jump on board or fucking answer to him, Blake.”
“I didn’t sign on for this shit.” Blake shook his head as he followed them into the room and Katie was placed on the bed.
James was waiting for them, watching as they settled her down.
“Please tell me, why she is unconscious?”
“She burnt me.”
“It’s already mending.” James sounded scornful.
“It still hurts like hell.”
“So the little minx still has some power? Leave us.”
Katie knew, in a vague, half-conscious way, that the magic was taking its toll. Not much longer and she would be dead.
Sighing, James leant back with his hands behind his head.
“So tell me, oh great and wise one, where is my miracle?” He glanced at the darkened corner and Emma stepped towards him, never taking her eyes away.
“If she’s no good, why don’t you just kill her?” She moved over to the bed. He saw the knife and, with the speed of the wolf he was, he got her neck in his grasp. He had his answer. Katie White was not the girl who was about to change his destiny.
“I’ve no intention of killing the girl. I suggest you put the knife away. You promised me something and if you don’t deliver very soon, this neck will be snapped,” he growled, applying pressure before he released her.
He sat by the girl, stroking her hair away from her head.
“None of the wolves reacted to her?” Emma croaked, still sticking with her lies.
“Not one. She’s not what you said she was,” he accused.
Emma shrugged, her eyes flashing fire. “The funny things about spells and prophecies, is the wording—very tricky, wording,” she complained, her hands on her hips.
“Excuses—so many excuses. I want the one who will bond together the wolves and the vampires. I want them brought to their knees,” he yelled. He grabbed hold of her by her arms and shook her. “You promised me this was my time. I killed for you because of your promises.”
“I always deliver,” Emma said, trying to soothe his worries. Then, “Are we going to kill the girl?” Excitement and anticipation lit her eyes.
James glanced at the sleeping girl, wondering why Emma wanted her dead so badly.
“No. A witch will always come in handy. Anyway, it doesn’t look like she’s got long left.”
Katie watched from beneath lowered lashes. Who was the woman and what the hell were they talking about?
The sedatives were lasting for shorter periods each time they injected her. She was shaking from the use of her magic. While she was weak, every time she used her abilities she had withdrawal effects.
After a while they carried her through the darkened corridor, through the locked security doors, until they got to her cage. Strange that they hadn’t used her in the same way as before. She really must be close to losing everything.
They dumped her on the bed, escaping quickly before she threw a fire bolt, or whatever it was that came out of her hands.
She watched them leave, glancing at the other prisoners as they went.
“Hey, witch. You okay?” Katie turned to the cell opposite. The occupant looked human, like her.
Katie nodded but refused to say a word.
“That’s good.”
She put her back to the bars, staring at her small square of space—the tight, trapped space.
“Does anyone know what their plan is?”
This was when the other prisoners talked amongst themselves, discussing some sort of plan James and his crew had.
She couldn’t care less. She wouldn’t live to see it. It was becoming clearer every day that she was not needed.
“Rumour is, the Beyer West pack are trying to take over other areas. They annihilated all the witches, and now they’re picking their way through everyone else. Demons, other wolves—even humans.” She heard this from the guy three cells down from her.
“They must have failed with the witches. I mean she’s still breathing.” It felt as though curious eyes were boring into her back.
“She’s special, apparently.” She heard the sneer in the voice.
Great—from caring one moment to sneering the next. A wonderful band of friends she had.
“I heard they took on the Valentines.”
Katie whirled in her cage, going to the bars.
“What’s the matter, witch?” one of the prisoners said.
“I was there when they came to the vampire council. That man, James—he killed their leader.”
Silence descended on the room.
The hairs on Katie’s arms stood on end.
“When was this?”
“The same night I was taken. I was taken before the council by William Valentine,” she told the group.
A morose, morbid feeling filled the room.
“If they’ve got to the Valentines, it will only be a matter of time before the pack controls everything,” the man across from her said to the group.
They all nodded in agreement.
Kati
e didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. From what she remembered, Robert and William wouldn’t let that happen.
She moved away from the bars, going back to the bed. The sheets were wrinkled and dirty from her weeks of captivity. She thought of everything she’d heard while lying there. So much information had passed between the cell mates.
Who had the woman been, the one in the room with James? Why had she sounded so familiar?
Katie rubbed her chest. Her heart ached. Not long left for her…it didn’t take a genius to work out what the statement meant.
Tears welled in her eyes. She was going to die.
She didn’t want to die.
From the crushing of her spirit within this hell hole, she’d forgotten everything but the pleasure of being with William.
Her strong, bad vampire. The first man to kiss her, to make her pulse race and her body singe with heat. When she’d been with William, she’d felt, for the first time, the stirring of desire. William had awoken her mind and body and she wanted more. Katie had hoped to lose her virginity before she died. It could have been her gift to William. She would give anything to still be in his company, even with his bad attitude. If she was outside with him then she wouldn’t be in here.
She sniffed as tears fell in great waves, the thought unbearable.
The irony was that a few weeks ago she would have given anything to be with her parents, to leave behind the chaos of life.
But since meeting William she had felt not different but special. She wanted to live, and the realisation brought with it a new wave of knowledge and despair.
Katie wasn’t ready to die.
Chapter Three
William slammed the door as he entered his house, the sound echoing off the blank walls. The sun was up and the search was off. He went straight to the kitchen where he kept his fine whisky—the strongest kind. He wanted to lose what little sanity he had left.
He twisted the cap off a fresh bottle and gulped half of the contents in one go. The strong liquor helped to ease the pain, or at least to numb it for a short time. His face throbbed from Don smashing it in.
William walked towards the carpet where Katie had collapsed after he had taken her blood. He could still smell the innocent aroma of her. He touched that spot, hoping against hope to feel her.
