by Eva Brandt
What the fuck? I could’ve sworn my shadow creation had been keeping the damn werewolf busy. How had he managed to escape it?
No, that wasn’t it. As soon as I got up and looked around, I realized that the Beta was still right where I’d left him, fighting his shadowy form. But there were at least ten more werewolves in the room. They had descended upon the shadow and were currently attempting to tear into my magic. They couldn’t really do damage to it, but they did manage to distract it, allowing the Beta to attack.
Since he was the ‘original’ after which the shadow had been created, he could actually harm it, so they were making progress.
But that wasn’t the biggest problem or the reason why I’d lost my hold on my huntress. The source of my predicament—the wolf that had shoved me down—was the Alpha of this irritating group.
He growled at me, his eyes glowing gold with the power of his birthright. “Back away, demon. You won’t hurt her, not ever again.”
He was broadcasting his thoughts so loudly I would have understood him even if I hadn’t learned werewolf-speech. Everything inside me screamed to take him up on the challenge. He was an Alpha, and he was powerful, but he still couldn’t hope to take me on and win.
It would have been so easy. I could’ve summoned the fire of my righteous anger and wiped out every single werewolf in this room. I could turn them all to ash with a thought.
But I looked past the werewolf’s body, at my soulmate, at the shadows that now gathered around her almost protectively. She met my gaze unflinchingly, and in her eyes, I saw my answer. Yes, I could still end the lives of the pathetic shifters who had ruined my plan, but if I did, she would hate me forever. That would defeat the purpose of this little project.
“I’ll bow out of this battle, Alpha,” I told the wolf, “but the war will be mine.”
Furious with my failure and my loss, I wrapped myself in shadow and flame and left the compound. At this point, I didn’t even care about all the underlings I was leaving behind. I had a new ritual to come up with and a new plan to make.
* * *
Xander
When the demon vanished, I almost couldn’t believe my good fortune. Just by looking at him, I’d known that he was most likely not a foe I could defeat. I had no idea what had determined him to leave when he’d had the advantage, but I couldn’t bring myself to dwell on it, not when I had more important things to worry about.
In the wake of the demon’s departure, his magic faded away as well. Byron’s strange, shadowy clone, dissipated, as did all the swirling tentacles. The suddenness of the change seemed to create some kind of magical vacuum in the room. It tugged at my core, but I resisted.
My pack wasn’t so lucky and neither was the young huntress. Out of all my wolves, Byron was the only one who wasn’t affected. The others all recoiled and whined, frightened and in pain. Meanwhile, the huntress let out a small, choked cry and clutched her chest. Her hair curled around her cheekbones in sweaty strands of crimson and black.
My main responsibility was to my union, but I found myself choosing the human woman anyway. The echoes of the demonic magic were nothing compared to what we’d all faced in the past. The huntress, on the other hand, had been through an ordeal I had no idea how to even address. Still, I couldn’t give up without even trying, so I shifted into my human form and tentatively padded to her side.
“Are you all right, Ms. Lee?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “I’m not sure what the demon did to me.”
The words of reassurance were on my lips. I wanted to tell her that my pack and I had managed to interrupt the ritual, that she was all right and the demon would never hurt her again.
But she looked straight at me, and the light in her beautiful green eyes cracked the last barrier that still existed in my soul.
“Shit,” I eloquently stated. “You’re my soulmate.”
It was the worst possible thing I could’ve ever said under the circumstances, but in my defense, my ability for rational thought had taken a temporary vacation when our eyes had met. On the bright side, my tactless remarked did serve to snap her out of her panic and confusion. “I’m sorry… What?”
Byron stepped up to me, and I held my breath as I waited for his ‘verdict’. I loved him with all my heart, but despite our bond, there was always a chance that we wouldn’t share a mate. It was rare, but it did happen, and this wasn’t exactly the way I’d expected to meet my future female.
The huntress—no, not the huntress, Imogen—turned toward Byron, still confused, but meeting his eyes anyway.
She probably didn’t realize the importance of the action. Few people were aware of how shifters identified their mates. For some strange reason, perhaps because most non-shifters still saw us as beasts, humans believed that we used scent to track down our life partners.
It couldn’t have been further from the truth. Yes, our advanced senses could detect a fertile female in heat, but that had nothing to do with soul bonds. There was only one way to identify a mate. Eyes truly were the mirror of the soul.
The moment I’d looked into Imogen’s eyes, I’d known she was the one. It was the same for Byron. He looked at Imogen and relaxed, and I knew there was nothing to worry about.
Well, nothing except for the fact that she was a huntress and we were werewolves. She’d also been brutally assaulted by a group of demons and vampires, and the last thing she needed right now was me and Byron dumping something else on her.
“Just ignore what I said ten seconds ago,” I blurted out. “I was just…”
Lying? No, I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t deny the connection between us, even if that bond hadn’t technically formed yet, even if we were only strangers to one another.
“Overwhelmed,” Byron finished in my stead. “But never mind that. Can you stand? Where are you hurt?”
Imogen let us get away with it, but I couldn’t bring myself to experience any satisfaction over it. Her following words made me wish the demon hadn’t escaped, just so that I could at least try to teach him a lesson.
“I think I can stand,” she said. “The vampire bit me, but I don’t…” She frowned and bit her lower lip in obvious confusion. “I’m not really sure about any of this, about what happened. Where did the demon go?”
This was the second time she’d mentioned that she wasn’t sure what that detestable creature had done to her. The fact that she was saying it again wasn’t encouraging. She hadn’t been unconscious when the demon had vanished, but for some reason, she couldn’t remember. It wasn’t a good sign, but I shoved my incipient panic to the back of my mind. “He fled when I arrived,” I told her. “You’re safe now.”
“The vampire is dead,” Byron added. “Nobody is going to hurt you anymore.”
“Oh. I… Thank you.”
She still sounded dazed, so I focused on the immediate priority, getting her out of here, to see a doctor. But first, I needed to remove those dreadful shackles around her wrists and ankles. I didn’t know what had been their purpose, but the runic engravings on them gave me a bad vibe.
I couldn’t see a key, but the metal was already damaged, so I managed to just snap them off. As soon as Imogen was free, color started to return to her pale face.
She smoothly slid out of the bed and stood up, showing no sign of having just been the target of a vicious attack. “I really appreciate your help,” she said, her voice now far steadier than before. “Is there anything I can do? You said Popovic is dead, but what about his underlings?”
I shared a look with my Beta. She couldn’t be serious, could she? She needed to rest and heal, not rush into battle. “I think we’re mostly done,” I tried to reassure her. “We took out most of the demons and the undead, and your unit is providing us with backup now.”
It was the worst possible thing I could have said. Imogen’s breath caught and her eyes widened. “My brother. He’s here, isn’t he?”
She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she
pushed past me and fled the room. She moved so quickly that, despite my werewolf senses, I didn’t immediately realize what had happened.
Both Byron and I lost a few precious seconds as we just stood there, staring at one another like fools. My wolf jerked me out of my stupor, growling and pointing out that I was letting my female get away.
“Shit,” Byron and I said at the same time. He’d obviously had the same epiphany I’d had. What a clusterfuck.
“Alpha, what’s wrong?” Leland asked. The others had obviously recovered from the backlash of the spell. Thank the moon for small mercies.
I didn’t have time to provide them with an elaborate explanation. If they hadn’t heard my exchange with Imogen, I’d just have to tell them about it later. Right now, I had other priorities. “With me,” I commanded. “Quickly. We need to track down the huntress. Protect her at all costs.”
As always, they didn’t question me, and together, we rushed out of the room, with me in the lead, following Imogen’s scent. She had already left the basement and was presumably on the first level of the building. We tracked her scent down up to the room where Byron had found the remains of her companion. I assumed she must’ve seen it as well, but it hadn’t deterred her from her mission.
Snarling in frustration, I activated my communicator. “Lead Hunter Lee, we found and freed your sister, but she left and she’s somewhere out there, in the base. We might still have hostiles running around and she’s not armed.”
“Copy that, Alpha. We’ve arrived. We’ll find Imogen and kill every undead bastard that stands in our way.”
I wished I could find that reassuring. Unfortunately, I still remembered Imogen’s confession—the fact that she’d been bitten by a vampire. If I added that to her unexpected speed of motion and recovery time, the conclusion might turn out to be quite tragic for Imogen.
I hadn’t gotten the chance to touch her or look her over too closely, so I hadn’t been able to tell if she’d been turned. It wouldn’t matter to me. I might dislike undead as a species, but I knew better than to believe that every single vampire was the same.
Hunters, on the other hand, were prone to painting every single paranormal creature with the same brush. If Imogen was a vampire, they might shoot first and ask questions later. They might decide she was beyond their aid, or no longer worth saving.
I couldn’t allow that.
I honestly had no idea what would happen and where I’d stand with my mate after today, but right now, that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping her alive and safe. Everything else could wait.
Chapter Six
One of the most dangerous things about the undead is their ability to turn other beings into one of their own kind. While in the past, research mistakenly suggested that other types of beings—such as shifters—could accomplish this as well, it has since been made more than clear that this is not possible.
This is due to the fact that, while shape-shifting is related to an innate difference in species, undead are born from something akin to a virus. This virus is transmittable through a bite, and it is the only way the undead can actually reproduce.
While all undead possess the ability to turn another type of being, it is usually the vampires that use this method most often. Other creatures lack the interest and the desire for companionship that vampires possess, and as such, are perfectly content living out eternity on their own, or with already existing undead.
Vampires challenge this state of affairs. To this end, their ability to turn other beings has evolved. Their fangs, originally used solely for feeding, now drip a unique venom that allows them to paralyze, but not kill their prey. This facilitates the second, necessary stage of the turning process, the blood exchange.
Should a vampire bite another type of being, but not share his or her blood with them, the process will not be completed. In time, the victim’s blood will clear of all traces of the poison. But if the vampire succeeds in making the victim drink undead blood, that person’s fate is sealed, and the virus—as well as the madness intrinsic to all undead—will claim them for eternity.
- Anje Gerhault, “The Undead Rebellion”, Bertelsmann, 2001 –
* * *
Imogen
Marcus was dead. Marcus was dead. Ever since I’d opened that door and looked into that horrible room, that litany—the meaning of those dreadful words—refused to leave my head. He was dead, and the manner of his demise just made it worse. He’d been in pieces, barely recognizable after what those creatures had done to him.
I’d have probably encountered a similar fate had the werewolves not helped me. But I didn’t care about myself right now. The rest of my unit was somewhere in this base. I wouldn’t fail them too, not like I had failed Marcus.
Vibrating with fury, I ran out of the building where I’d been kept captive, into the courtyard of the compound. Outside, I found chaos. No matter what the dark-haired Alpha werewolf had said, the battle was nowhere near over. The undead were at a clear disadvantage and it did seem that most of them had been taken out, but they were still putting up a good fight.
A few of them were trying to make their way in my direction, which I assumed was probably because Popovic had been here. Popovic was presumably dead, killed by the werewolves. I wouldn’t be able to avenge Marcus by killing him. His minions would have to do. And conveniently, they were in my way, so I’d have to remove them to find my brother and the others.
Multitasking was always helpful.
The moment the vampires noticed me, they froze like deer in the headlights. For a few seconds, we just stared at one another, although I couldn’t have said why that was.
During our confrontation, Popovic had at least talked to me. These undead didn’t say a word. They were just looking at me with unnerving, unblinking eyes, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
Our little staring contest came to an end when I heard a familiar cry in the distance. It was Paulette, and she sounded like she was in trouble. The sound snapped me out of my strange trance. Now was not the time to hesitate. I had to help my friends, and eliminating these filthy undead was the first step.
I didn’t have any weapons, but at that moment, I didn’t need them. I felt faster and stronger than ever, and I wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. I would’ve still preferred to have my blades with me, but I’d do without if I had to.
As I shot forward, the undead changed their approach as well. They scattered in every direction, with a single vampire taking flight and the others dodging me through their sheer speed and agility.
“Kill her!” the flier—possibly the leader of this patrol—shouted. “Take her down! Take the huntress down!”
Much to my surprise, one of his underlings started to protest the command. “But Sir, we’ve received instructions to—”
His words died in his throat as I tackled him to the ground. I’d have actually been interested in the instructions he’d received, but I didn’t have time for elaborate interrogations. Taking out the threat was my first priority.
Killing a vampire without a firearm or a sharp implement of some kind was next to impossible. I resorted to a somewhat more unorthodox method. Before the vampire could attempt to shove me off him, I grabbed his head and twisted.
It shouldn’t have worked, as vampire bones tended to be much too dense for a human to break. It did. His neck snapped like a twig, and the sound rushed over me like a drug, so intensely addicting I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.
There was nothing amusing about the situation at all. A good friend of mine had just died, and I’d been assaulted by… by something I couldn’t quite remember. But the euphoria of the kill was still there and I wanted nothing more than to repeat the process with every single undead in this facility. After I finished off my current target, of course. A vampire wouldn’t die because of a simple broken neck. I needed to come up with a more permanent method.
The flier attacked me before I could do exactly that.
He came at me from up above, just like Popovic had done when I’d first been caught. I managed to dodge, but I missed my chance at finishing off my first victim.
With a frustrated snarl, I directed a roundhouse kick at the vampire’s head. My foot made contact with his skull and he staggered back, dazed. A familiar-looking item flew from his jacket. It was a dagger, a hunter’s knife. Not my own—my chosen blades were a little slimmer—but still something I’d seen and held many times in my life.
The weapon belonged to my brother. The mere sight of it in the possession of a vampire made me see red. I could cope with the thought that I’d failed Marcus, but if my brother had encountered a similar fate while I’d been immobilized, I would never forgive myself.
“Undead filth!” I snarled as I picked up the dagger. “What did you do to my brother?”
The vampire’s eyes flashed crimson and he bared his fangs at me. “Nothing he didn’t deserve, little huntress. He came here looking for death. He found it.”
It was much too easy to imagine my brother being torn apart by these creatures, turned into nothing but a pile of unrecognizable limbs. The memory of my sister’s body bag flashed through my mind once again, coupled with that of Marcus’s remains. I wanted to believe that it wasn’t true, that the vampire was just taunting me to make me drop my guard. A small voice at the back of my consciousness reminded me that vampires weren’t exactly the most trustworthy individuals in the world.
But anguish and loss echoed through me, more powerful than anything else, and I threw all caution to the wind.
Without knowing, the undead had given me a significant advantage over them. When I pounced on top of the vampire closest to me, I buried my dagger into his heart and twisted. It wasn’t so easy to kill a vampire, but the wound did incapacitate him, buying me time to handle his friends.
The blank-faced ones might have been revenants, inferior to the flier. That didn’t make them harmless, and I was vastly outnumbered. They swarmed me like locusts, and despite my better judgment, I was forced to pull the dagger out of the flier’s wound, just so that I’d have some kind of weapon to chase the others off. I took down five before the sixth one managed to rake his claws over my chest. It might have been a lethal blow, but at the last moment, I dodged, making it painful, but not incapacitating.
