Blood for Blood (A Keira Blackwater Novel, #2)

by K. R. Willis

  “George, if you can hear me, everything is going to be okay. Help is on the way. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

  “No hospital,” he ground out. “You have to promise me.”

  I was shaking my head before he’d finished speaking. “No way, George. You’ve been stabbed with a silver dagger. You need help.”

  “No.” He tried to push to his feet, but he was so weak I managed to push him back down. Not a good sign.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Keira, you don’t understand.” He ground his teeth together, and closed his eyes against another wave of pain that racked his body, forcing his back to arch up off the floor. After a few moments it passed, and he said, “I was born a werewolf—I wasn’t bitten. My father was away on business, so when my mother went into labor, she called a neighbor for help. Against her wishes, they took her to a hospital. The stress of the delivery, me being breech, forced her to begin the turn. She lashed out at the doctors and nurses. Fearing for their safety and mine, they put her down. They had to cut me from her belly.” He clenched his eyes tight, lost in the memory.

  “I’m sorry that happened, but things have changed,” I said gently. “We have the supernatural wing of the hospital now. You’d be taken care of. No one would hurt you.”

  He shook his head adamantly, even though the movement made him flinch in obvious pain. “No. I won’t go to a hospital. If you try to make me, I’ll fight the whole way. You have to promise.”

  What the hell was I supposed to do?

  On one hand, he needed a doctor. For reasons nobody understood, werewolves—and most other supernaturals for that matter—were allergic to silver. There were theories of course, but with the majority of humans not knowing the true origin of where supernaturals came from, they were wildly fantastical and unfounded.

  In any case, supernaturals’ bodies couldn’t process the poison and remove it like they could pretty much anything else. If he didn’t get help, it would slowly kill him. My stomach roiled at the thought, and I had to fight back the bile that rose in my throat.

  But on the other hand, wasn’t it ultimately his decision? He knew the consequences better than anyone if he didn’t get help. Shouldn’t I honor that, and do as he asked? Was I any better than the monsters that had locked him in here if I forced him to do something he didn’t want to do, even if it was, by my judgment, in his best interests?

  My heart sank.

  My decision made, I blew out a resigned breath. “Okay, George, you win. I hate it, but I won’t take you to a hospital.” I reached down and carefully placed my hand in his much larger, clawed one, and squeezed. “You have my word.”

  He squeezed back, and then finally relaxed, as much as the pain would let him.

  I waited as more minutes passed with no sign of Rya or Arnaud, and my stomach began tying itself in knots. What if they had been captured? What if something had happened to them, and they weren’t coming to our rescue? How would I be able to get a 250-pound injured werewolf out of here in one piece?

  Panic had just started to settle in when the door swung open, and Arnaud stepped into the room with Rya hot on his heels. I heaved such a huge sigh of relief, I sagged from it and had to brace one hand on the wooden floor.

  Arnaud spotted me, and immediately the crease that had formed between his brows disappeared. “Keira, are you all right? Rya came and got me, but she could not tell me what happened.” He stepped into the storage room, just far enough to shut the door, and then froze, his whole body going rigid. “I smell blood.” He inhaled deeply, and then hissed through his teeth. “And silver.” All supernaturals hated and avoided silver, but werewolves and vampires seemed to be especially sensitive to it.

  “I’m fine, but George isn’t.” I gave him the cliff notes version of what happened. “We have to get him out of here before they find us.”

  Arnaud’s gaze swung from me to George. “Is he conscious?”

  “Yes,” George grumbled, answering for himself.

  “Good. If I find you some clothes, can you shift to fully human?” Arnaud’s voice held no inflection, but I knew he understood what he was asking George to do. Shifting from his half-were state to fully human in the condition he was in could amount to suicide, but if we tried to leave with him as he was—a half-were covered in blood—we’d draw too much attention. That could get us caught and killed as well. A double-edged sword indeed.

  George pushed to a sitting position and leaned against the wall behind him, growling and panting the whole way. “I won’t have the pack to draw from, so I’ll be useless afterward,” he said, the words sounding strained as though it pained him to say them. “But I believe I can manage.”

  Arnaud nodded. “Very well. I shall return shortly.” He ghosted from the room before I had a chance to argue.

  With my mouth hanging slightly open, I turned to George. “You don’t have to do this. What if shifting drains too much of your energy, and you’re unable to fight the silver? We can find another way.” Although I couldn’t think of one at the moment, I didn’t want him to feel like this was his only choice.

  He shook his head slowly, then stopped when he grimaced. “You came for me when no one else did. If me shifting gets us out of here faster, and you away from this madness in one piece, then so be it.” He closed his eyes and visibly gritted his teeth.

  I started to ask him what happened, how he ended up here, though I was afraid I knew the answer, but Arnaud opened the door and strode into the room with a set of clothes draped over his arm: blue jeans with holes in the knees, and a black T-shirt that said Bite Me in red with blood dripping from the letters. How ironic.

  I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth as I looked up at Arnaud. “Bite me? That’s the best you could do out of all these people?”

  Arnaud smirked. “He proved to be the best candidate.” He handed the clothes to George. “Do you require assistance?” he asked the injured werewolf.

  “No,” he growled. “Just some privacy. This isn’t pretty at the best of times. It will be even less so this time.”

  Arnaud held his hand out to me, and pulled me to my feet when I laid mine in his. He escorted me to the farthest corner away from George. The pain-filled sounds that began immediately behind us were almost my undoing. I tried to turn around, to go to him and do...I don’t know, something...but Arnaud’s strong hand landed on my shoulder and gently held me in place.

  “No,” he said, the words soft and sympathetic. “We will respect his wishes. This is not for us to see.”

  “But...” I knew he spoke the truth, but every ounce of my being screamed at me to help him. To offer him comfort. Something.

  Seconds stretched into minutes that felt like hours. I tried to drown out the noises, but they seemed to intensify instead of diminish, as though trying not to listen to them made it so that’s all I could hear. My body began shaking uncontrollably. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. Arnaud gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze where his hand sat as a tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t know how much more I could take. My heart broke a little more with each slow pop and crack that reached my ears.

  As if in answer to my unspoken prayers, the room suddenly fell deathly quiet aside from George’s labored breathing. We turned in unison. I noticed Rya lay next to George with her head in his lap, and I breathed a little easier. I hadn’t paid attention to where she was during his shift, and now I knew she’d stayed with him. He hadn’t been alone. Knowing that helped tremendously, and the shaking eased to a mere tremble.

  George sat there in the clothes Arnaud had brought him, soaked from head to toe in sweat, the garments plastered to him to the point I wondered if we’d have to cut them off. He gave Rya’s head one last stroke, then pushed against her withers as she stood up with him, providing him with support. He wobbled once on his feet, and Arnaud moved to assist him.

  “Place your arm around my shoulders. If anyone looks, they will think you are drunk or stoned
.” He took all of George’s weight, just short of carrying him, and we made our way to the door, Rya once again wrapping her magic around herself.

  I peeked out, and gave the all-clear.

  We half walked, half stumbled down the hallway and spilled into the main part of the club. The music thumped and beat out a rhythm that jarred my bones as we pushed our way through the crowd as fast as we could without looking suspicious. I looked around and wondered what all these people would do if they knew that a large Roman-style fight club existed beneath their feet.

  We’d made it about halfway through the mass of dancers when the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. My steps faltered as I saw the two bouncers at the front door cock their heads as if they listened to someone, then touch their right ears with their hand. Communication devices no doubt, and I’d bet a large sum of money it was with someone downstairs telling them to not let us leave. It was bound to happen, but I had hoped that somehow we would have slipped past them first. No such luck.

  How do you want to handle this? Rya asked. Do we try to lure them outside away from everyone? Or take them right here?

  I’d been thinking the same thing. If we fought them inside the club, that would bring way too much attention to ourselves, and we really didn’t need that. I needed to get George help before it was too late, and I wanted to do it with as little bloodshed as possible.

  We lure them outside, I told her. Distract them long enough for me to run past, and they should follow me out the door.

  Got it.

  I felt her move away and turned to Arnaud who had stopped beside me. “We’re going to draw the bouncers outside where we have room to maneuver. As soon as we’re out the door, get George out of here. Take him to Sally’s,” I instructed, and then rattled off her address. I’d been thinking of where to take George since I promised not to take him to the hospital, and Sally’s image kept popping into my head. She was a nurse who dealt with supernaturals on a regular basis, and had dated a werewolf for several months. If anyone outside a hospital could help him, she could.

  “I am not leaving you to fight alone,” Arnaud all but growled. “Sire would kill me if anything happened to you because I left you behind.” George sagged against him, as if to punctuate the need to get him out of here.

  “Look, I don’t have time to argue with you. Tell Leo I made you, whatever you want, but get him to Sally. If he dies while we argue, this all will have been for nothing. And that’s not good enough for me.”

  Keira! Where are you?

  On my way!

  I turned without another glance at Arnaud and ran for the door. His angry voice echoed behind me, but I ignored it. The surprised yelp of the bouncers drew me ever closer, and as they stood stunned from the sudden appearance of a large puma right in front of them, I bolted through the door and slammed it shut behind me. Not two seconds later, the door banged against the metal building, and shouts of “Stop!” and “Hold it!” rang in the air.

  Rya, where are you?

  Right behind them, she said. As soon as you ran past them and I disappeared, they looked as though they’d seen a ghost and then took off after you.

  Good. I’m going to lead them around the side of the building where there’s less chance of being seen.

  The larger of the two started to gain on me, so I put on a burst of speed—legs and arms pumping, lungs burning from sucking in so much air. We rounded the corner into an open parking lot and I skidded to a halt about halfway across it, loose gravel spraying out in a small arc around my feet. I spun to face them and hunkered down, lowering my center of gravity. They stopped when I faced them head on, and fanned out, one on each side.

  “Lovely night for a stroll, eh boys?” I asked in between breaths. My heart pounded in my chest as I surveyed the situation, sizing up my opponents the way Sam had taught me.

  The larger bouncer was muscular, yet fit. His black goatee matched his hair, which was cropped close to his scalp, hinting at a military background. Frown lines marred his angular face, and a scar the length of my pinkie bisected his left cheek at an angle. Judging by his appearance and possible background, he would more than likely be strong, fast, and know how to fight. I moved him to the top of my immediate threat list.

  The other guy was smaller, and slightly more bulky. He’d let his brown hair go shaggy, so I doubted he’d had any formal military-type training. Once guys had been in the military, they tended to keep themselves groomed instead of letting their hair become unruly. He had a handsome face that held no scars, and baby fat still pudged out his cheeks the slightest bit. Best guess: He was young, hotheaded, and thought this would be a great gig, but not overly well trained.

  Goatee guy was definitely the larger threat.

  Rya, I’ve got the big one. Think you can take the littler one?

  She snickered in my mind, amused. No problem.

  On the count of three then. I turned my right foot so that it angled more toward my target, exposing a larger part of my left side to the other bouncer. My instincts screamed at me that was a bad idea, but I trusted Rya to take him down before he had the chance to get the jump on me.

  Here goes. 1...2...3!

  The tingle of Rya’s magic dropping washed over me as I launched myself at my opponent. His startled grunt made me smile as I dove between his legs. The surprised look on his face made me smile even wider, but then it disappeared in a scrape of gravel that left me sore, bleeding from multiple scratches, and winded from the impact with the ground. As my eyes watered, I twisted around, pulled my legs up, and slammed the broken part of my heels into the back of his knees. Something vital snapped, and he dropped forward like dead weight.

  I scrabbled backward as fast as I could, trying to get out of arm’s reach, but he grabbed hold of my left foot and jerked me back.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled. He flipped around on his knees so that he faced me now, and proceeded to work his way up my leg toward my stomach. The hollowed out, empty look on his face—as though he’d shut down all his emotions, cutting off the pain—scared the hell out of me, ratcheting up my heart rate until the pound of it in my ears was the only sound I could hear.

  I landed one good kick to his shoulder before he pinned both my legs to the ground and continued his ascent. Frantic, I looked back and forth, but couldn’t see anything in my immediate vicinity that I could use as a weapon. Only gravel surrounded us, which hurt like hell as it scraped and bruised my back and legs as he applied more of his weight.

  He pulled himself even with my face and sweat dripped onto my nose. “You stupid bitch. You’ll pay for that.” He sat back on his knees and punched me hard in the jaw. Pain exploded on the left side of my face, and I fought not to pass out. My right cheek scraped along the gravel as I tried to regain my bearings, and something blurry the size of a baseball came into view. I couldn’t tell what it was through the tears in my eyes, but I latched onto it anyway, and nearly cried when I realized by the feel of it, it was a rock I hadn’t noticed earlier.

  My arm ached as I wrapped my hand around it and swung it in the direction of his head as hard as I could, my blurred vision making it hard to tell if my aim was true. A second later, I knew I’d hit my mark.

  Something cracked, warm liquid sprayed all over my face, blinding me further, and his full weight collapsed on top of me. My arm with the rock dropped to the ground, and I lay there, exhausted. Someone’s scream turned into a gurgle, then all was quiet except the thumping bass from inside the club.

  Rya, you good?

  He had a knife, but I’m fine, she said. Her nose touched my face, letting me know she was there. I patted her large head. You’re hurt. She sniffed and licked my face, then moved away. A few moments later the dead bouncer’s weight lifted from me.

  With his weight gone, I pushed into a sitting position, and nearly threw up. The vertigo hit almost as hard as he had. I took a moment to wipe the dirt and blood from my eyes with my torn dress, and finally open
ed them to a parking lot that was only somewhat blurry. Damn, he hit hard. My jaw felt like it had been smashed with a cinder block.

  Slowly, Rya helped me to my feet, and stayed close for a few seconds until everything stopped spinning. I surveyed the bloody mess around us and groaned. There was only one person I knew to call who could help clean this mess up. I’d stashed my phone and ID inside my bra, since they wouldn’t fit in the small pocket with the medallion, for which I was thankful now.

  I pulled my phone from my bra, and breathed a sigh of relief. The screen had been scratched by the gravel when I slid across my stomach, but not broken. The protective case I’d paid extra for had done its job. It came to life when I pushed the button, then dialed as I thumbed Leo’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, can you pick me up? There’s some cleanup that needs to be done as well.” He and Arnaud had cleaned up an even bigger mess outside his club a couple weeks ago when the werewolves came looking for me. “It’ll be with the other trash.” I didn’t want to be specific about what kind of cleanup over the phone, but I felt confident he’d figure it out.

  He paused for several heartbeats before finally answering. “Am I to assume Arnaud is not with you?” A hint of anger colored his words.

  “Yes, you may assume, but it’s not his fault. I told him to leave. I’ll explain everything when you get here. Head toward Nite Vale on 56 and you’ll see me.” We couldn’t stay here. It was only a matter of time before they sent more goons up from the club below to see what was keeping these two.

  “Very well, then. Look for a black Mercedes.” He hung up before I could say anything else, which was fine by me. The faster he left, the faster he’d get here.

  Rya, help me drag these two farther down behind those Dumpsters in case anyone decides they need to take a leak, or comes looking for them.

  Without a word, she grabbed the shorter guy’s pants leg with her teeth and tugged. I opted for my guy’s arms, and we pulled the two of them roughly fifty feet across the gravel, and stashed them behind the trash filled container. With any luck, Leo’s cleanup crew would find them before anyone else did.