I could have argued. Really, what did it matter?
“And so, tonight, I give you the chance for revenge. We’re going to play Catch the Warrior.” His eyes gleamed in the night. He loved this.
Andon Kenwood defined the word masochist. If I’d felt like causing more trouble for myself, I would have asked him how his wife, the Vampire, was doing these days. Andon had a real loose definition of what a good mate did and did not do.
“She’s going to run and then you will chase her. Whichever one of you brings her carcass back to me will be rewarded.” He smiled at me, licking his lips.
I gulped. So now they were going to fight over my dead body?
“What happens if you don’t catch me?” I had to ask.
“Not possible.” Andon shook his head.
“Okay.” I nodded like I agreed. “But let’s say they don’t. There needs to be a time limit on this, correct? I mean, it can’t go on forever. How long does this game last? How long do they have to catch me before they’re pathetic?”
Murmurs in the crowd told me they hadn’t liked my phrasing. Perhaps I could have been more political. Only I had no interest in being nice to the creatures trying to eat me and then fight over my remains.
“There will be no end date.” Andon scoffed like I’d said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He even went so far as to laugh, which of course made all the Wolves laugh too.
I put my hands on my hips. If only they could see themselves from my perspective and how utterly ridiculous everything they did seemed.
Deadly comedians.
“Gotcha.” Even if I managed to escape, they would never stop hunting me. If I ran all the way from Canada, or wherever I’d landed, to New Jersey, where Genesis lay, I’d always be at risk.
I really shouldn’t be surprised. I’d agreed to a deal with my personal devil. Putting me into and through hell fell high on his agenda.
“So, it’s time then.” I looked down to make sure my shoes were tied. They were. I supposed now would be as good a time as any to start running.
“Hold on.” Luna spoke up, her voice calling out into the night.
Her father raised his eyebrows and stared at his daughter. “You have something to add?”
“Yes, my Alpha.” Her voice squeaked when she spoke. “I think we should discuss whether we should be doing this.”
“What?” Andon’s answer cut into the night and all of the Wolves cowered, some of them going so far as to bend at the waist from the effect.
“I don’t mean to contradict you, my Alpha. I know you have our best interests at heart, always. I miss my brother every second of every day. I just question whether or not Jace would want this.”
“She was an unworthy mate to your brother. He had no sense when it came to her and his feelings cannot be consulted because he is dead.” He roared, his hands shifting into their Wolf forms while the rest of his body remained human. “Do you have anything else you’d like to question me about, pup?”
His meaning seemed very clear to me: Question anything else and I’ll claw your eyes out, Luna.
“No, sir.” She looked down.
I stared at her even though she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Luna had made an attempt to stop this lunacy. She’d listened when I’d spoken earlier. I appreciated the effort.
Maybe the severity of the circumstances made me too sentimental, but it moved my heart in a small way to know someone else thought Jason would really not want me eaten.
The dream I’d had of him weeks earlier came back to me. He’d looked handsome in his prom tuxedo. We’d been young. Years later, he’d stared at me in the snow, still looking as young and handsome.
We were never meant for one another. That didn’t mean I couldn’t acknowledge he’d been special and he had, for a time, made me feel perfect. How many teenage girls ever have that feeling?
“You seem awful happy for a girl about to die.” Andon stared right at me.
“I was just remembering your son in his prom tuxedo. You remember, don’t you, Dr. Kenwood?” I deliberately referred to him like I had in high school. “You took pictures of us in my parents’ backyard. I wore black. He showered me with roses for a week after.”
Andon stared at me, silence filling the air of the night. If I’d made him the slightest bit uncomfortable, then I could feel good about my little statement. Let him think about us that way for a minute. Let him realize who he was about to send his Wolves after.
I’d been something in Andon’s life before he blamed me for all of Jason’s problems.
“Rachel Clancy, I’d suggest you run.” He snarled the last word and, like the smart girl I’d always thought myself, I ran like hell.
***
Eventually, anyone, even someone in top physical form, which I was not at that point, gets tired. No one would ever call me a marathon runner and an hour and a half turned out to be my outside limit.
I had to stop. Seeing a nearby tree—and they all looked pretty much the same in the dark—I leaned against it, gripping my stomach. I didn’t want to puke. They had enough of my scent for them to track without giving them such a large target.
My feet hurt. I’d cut my face on several branches and fallen a bunch of times. I bled from my arms and legs. At some point, I’d torn my pants. In the woods, open wounds meant infection.
A crack of thunder in the sky caught my attention and, seconds later, it rained. I closed my eyes, letting the cold water come down on me. This might be the last time I ever got to feel something like liquid running down my face.
The lightning lit up the sky and, in the distance, I could make out a house. Several of them, actually. We occasionally came across dilapidated street blocks. Homes nearly destroyed from the years of sitting empty, abandoned to the elements.
My senses weren’t letting me know there were any Wolves near me yet. I made my stiffening legs move. I wanted out of the rain. Being soaked and running didn’t go well together. Besides, it would feel nice to be inside a house again. One more time, to remember what it had felt like to be that kind of human.
It took me longer than it should have, but I reached the block of houses before the rain came down in large drops that were painful when they hit me. One of the doors hung open, and I took that as a sign to go right inside.
The floors creaked while I walked on them. Jason and I had waited out part of a snowstorm in an abandoned home once. It had been lovely until I’d found a Vampire hole beneath the place and we’d had to run. If the Vamps found me on this occasion and actually managed to turn me instead of killing me, no one would know. I’d be left undead with no one to end my existence.
The idea brought my nausea back on. I stumbled across the room and sat down in the corner. Some of the windows weren’t broken and wedging myself as small as I could next to an old kitchen counter at least let me feel hidden.
My hands shook. This was the most alone I’d ever been. Even when I’d disappeared from Genesis, I’d had Icahn’s people around. Yet, here I sat—a girl with family and friends, left to die in the elements in an unfamiliar land. If I could survive the Wolves, I’d never find my way back home.
That kind of thinking never helps. Keith’s cheerful Irish accent rolled around inside of my head. Apparently, I was back to hearing him again. I smiled. Better insanity than total loneliness.
Keith is dead.
The thought overtook me again. I swallowed, wishing I had some kind of water, anything to wash away my dry throat. How could I suppress pain if I couldn’t even manage to send it down through my esophagus into my stomach?
How long could I wait in this house? In the dark? Alone?
What had it looked like before? I hadn’t been able to make out much from the outside except it appeared to be wood. If it had been painted, I wouldn’t know until the morning.
I stood up and walked to the window. Cowering behind my kitchen counters had never been my style. What were they doing in Genesis right then?
I
tried to picture it. At night, we fought the monsters. Were they back living in Genesis or had they moved to Redemption full-time? Genesis. Patrick would want to go home, collect his wounded people, and return to where we could make things safe.
We. Like I was there. I shook my head.
Return to where they could make things safe.
My parents, still devastated by my death—they had to think it had already happened—would be stoically continuing to perform their duties. Or at least I hoped they would. If my father had started drinking again, I’d be pissed.
“I don’t get to be angry. I’m dead, remember?”
The sound of my voice echoed through the empty house. It startled me and I jumped.
“Screw this. I need a weapon.”
Didn’t I? My chest tightened, and I had to catch my breath.
Don’t panic, Rachel.
Keith again. Only. Keith. Was. Dead.
I caught my breath. Yes, I wouldn’t panic and I’d find a weapon. I’d promised to stay machete-less and I doubted I’d find one of them in this place anyway. Anything would have to do. A phone cord. A piece of steel from a can opener. Damn it, a water bowl.
Anything.
I marched forward, looking around the room. The place had been stripped pretty bare. Probably four or five decades earlier, when I’d been sleeping and whatever humans who had still been living had been fighting against being drawn into the Vampire tunnels to be used as food and labor.
I’d been having dreams, blissfully unaware a crazed, maniacal asshole had been playing with my mind.
I took the stairs two at a time, hoping they remained in decent-enough shape that I wasn’t going to end up falling through them. Or with the whole house collapsing around me.
Worst-case scenario-playing happened to be a specialty of mine.
How many ways could I die? Hell, I’d already surprised myself. I hadn’t expected to live to see Icahn demolished, and I had. I’d been standing right next to him on the balcony when he’d been shoved over it.
Maybe I would live through this.
I wandered into a bedroom. It was empty save for a curtain rod, which dangled empty from one of the windows.
“Now that has interesting possibilities.”
I took the metal rod in my hands. It was lighter than I would have liked but at least not plastic. It could work really well for a Vampire. Only I’d not seen any since I’d been out running. Maybe the Vampire population had been smaller in Canada.
I smiled. I really had no idea if I was in Canada or not. Now that I’d clung to the idea, I didn’t want to let it go. I’d finally visited Canada.
Goose bumps broke out on my skin. I took a deep breath. The Wolves were coming.
Chapter Nine
They knew I was in the house, and now I’d foolishly gotten myself caught on the second floor. No easy escape. Not that I could get away particularly well from them on the first floor, either. Running out the door would only make them want to chase me.
I was, after all, their prey.
I held up the wand in my hand. “Guess this will have to do.” Couldn’t take off their heads but I could probably annoy them to death, poking at them.
A thought jolted me and I stuck my head out the window to see if it was possible. Maybe I could get up on the roof. I quickly dismissed the idea. Werewolves could and did climb very well. Putting myself on the roof would only give me the extra advantage of being able to kill myself by jumping off it. Or worse, not kill myself and end up breaking my leg, left to lie there while they ripped me to shreds.
Oh, hell. There were no good ideas anymore.
The roof would be as good a place as any to face this kind of problem. Maybe I could whack them with my curtain rod when they got near, like I might a vicious dog.
These creatures were the worst kind of canine imaginable.
I hauled myself up, staring by first putting my feet on the windowsill and hoisting myself using what remained of the gutter and the edge of the roof as leverage. Finally, I got where I was going—the top of the house.
The pitch-black world outside offered me little comfort. I shivered, clutching at my arms. Standing at an angle, I’d most likely fall and break my head coming off this roof before I’d accomplish anything up here.
Hell, what had I been thinking?
From the ground, I heard growls. The Wolves weren’t even attempting stealth; they seemed to be showing me where they were.
“All right,” I hollered into the night. I wouldn’t go quietly. I’d make a big mess and do it loudly, so if some giant recorder happened to be taking down what I said, it would know for sure I had been there, I had lived.
The Wolves growled louder.
“You caught me. You’re stronger than I am, faster than I am. I’m unarmed because your leader—are you out there Andon?—was so afraid of what I could do to you, he didn’t want this a fair fight.” Technically, I’d suggested not having the machete, but I didn’t care much about details right then. “So, by all means, come and take out the little girl with the stick.” I held up my wand. They had great night vision; they’d see it.
After I said the words, I wished I hadn’t. They seemed to interpret it as some kind of indication they should hurry up. Several of the Wolves launched themselves at the house. I heard scratching while they did their best to latch on to the wet wood.
“Dumb, Rachel.” I backed up a few steps, climbing higher on top of the roof. It creaked beneath my feet. The house had held up pretty well if I compared it to others I’d seen, but now I questioned the security beneath my feet. As if the mere thought prompted it, a single groan sounded before the world beneath my feet opened up and I fell.
With a gasp, I grabbed for anything to support me. A layer of plywood, now partially swinging, seemed the only thing I could reach. I hung for a second before that too let loose. I plummeted toward the floor but not for long. The first wood floor I hit, presumably the attic, gave way immediately. It cut into me, destroying my pants and the pain charging up my right leg told me it had probably done worse than that, too.
I didn’t want to come crashing down onto my head. Flailing with my arms, I tried to catch onto anything to slow my fall again, give me some fighting chance to not die this way.
Of course, the Werewolves outside were not going to make it easy for me. Maybe it would be better to conk my head and lose consciousness. I could be blissfully unaware of my own death.
I grabbed out, latching onto what remained of a ceiling fan. For a second, I hung precariously on one of the blades, which would once have cooled off the room.
I looked down at the floor where I knew, inevitably, I would soon end up. At least the fan had stopped my momentum. I took a deep breath. The howling Wolves outside would not stay out of my way for very long. The best thing I could do was try to land without damaging myself too much more.
“Not a great option.” I spoke to myself.
But it was the only one I had. Taking a deep breath and gritting my teeth, I made myself let go of the only thing keeping me from the floor. I traveled the remaining distance and oomphed on landing. I hit hard, my shoulder taking most of the impact. Tears fled my eyes and pain rocked my body. I stifled a yell.
My shoulder had to be better than my leg. I rolled to my side. At some point, either from the fall or from the injuries I’d surely obtained, my vision had gone sideways.
“No.” Using my uninjured arm, I pounded on the floor. “I can’t be out of it right now. Not now. Later.”
I wedged myself up on one knee and half-limped, half-crawled toward the doorway. Blood seeped from the cut on my leg. I bent over to touch my knee and stared at the ooze of my own blood as it seeped into my hands.
My vision swam. Two deaths on my record if I died right then. Keith was dead. I shook my head. My thoughts were muddled. Had I hit my head and didn’t remember?
Two Wolves took the opportunity to charge up the stairs. One of them growled and the other howled.
/>
“Come on, guys. Do you really want to take me out like this? I just fell through the roof and the attic. It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” My voice sounded shaky and I hated it. Why couldn’t I die like some kind of hero from the movies? Brave and steadfast until the end. Why was I half lying on the floor, bleeding, barely coherent, and shaking?
I swear the bigger of the two Wolves smiled at me before it leaped into the air and landed on top of my body.
I bellowed. Hell, I didn’t even have my curtain rod anymore.
They tore at my body. Each of them seemed to savor my screams. I wish I could say I’d stayed stoic but I didn’t. I bellowed, cried, and cursed until I could barely utter another word.
Still, they ripped at me like nothing had ever tasted better to them than my poor, abused body.
***
Sometime later, I opened my eyes. Deacon’s face stared down at me.
“Rachel, you still alive?”
I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t move. I hurt everywhere and the room seemed dull, like colors weren’t bright.
What had happened? Mouth, claws, pain, blackness all seemed preferable. I wanted to go back to the blackness.
“No.” Deacon turned my head to look at him. “Don’t go back to sleep. Can you hear me?”
“I can.” My throat hurt. I must have screamed. A lot. “What are you doing here? Am I imagining you?”
A final death image and I got Deacon, not Chad?
“We followed you. Been trying to catch up all night. Guess I didn’t get here fast enough. I’m sorry, Rachel.” He knelt down. “You’re not dying and this is the very last time I am rescuing you from Werewolves. This is getting to be a habit.”
Darren rounded the corner, holding two severed Werewolf heads in his hands. “I got those last fellows. They didn’t even fight. Your family has the rest of them out there.”
“Thanks for trying, Deacon.” I reached out to grasp his hand. “It means a lot you remember you saved me from the Werewolves before.”
“It came back to me slowly. I don’t know everything yet. Just pieces of things here and there. But I distinctly remember telling you not to die one time before.”
The Warrior Page 82
