by Susan Harris
The night was silent around them with not even a peep from the animals that roamed the night. The predators that hunted before them were far deadlier than any of them could ever be. The wind began to gather, a marginally soft howl amongst the trees, their footsteps not making a single sound. Derek normally found the night soothing, but at this very moment, the sound of his rapid breathing and the thumping of his heart seemed to unease him. Something pulled at his gut, but he had to focus on finding the nymph before Donnelly had any more time alone with her.
The thick foliage hampered their line of sight, and even though he could see through the eyes of the wolf, vampire vision saw a lot more. He let the vampires lead the way, pushing all his alpha instincts back. A growl vibrated low in his chest, and it was met by a hiss from Caitlyn. Guess he wasn’t the only one feeling on edge.
Whatever potency had come from Ricky’s blood seemed to have completely healed Donnie. The normally stoic vampire was racing through the woods with a stupid grin on his face. His pupils were dilated, fangs extended as if he were high, and maybe he was. Perhaps his partner hadn’t been as forthcoming as to the extent of his magic. Caitlyn scowled at her progeny, uttering several curses in her native tongue that had Donnie grinning even wider.
After running at a supernatural pace for almost ten minutes, Derek slid to a halt when Donnie held up a hand. He motioned them forward and then crouched behind a thick, leafy bush looking out into an open field. Light sprawled across the dirt ground, illuminating the way and possibly giving their position away if Donnelly was watching. Darkness seemed to eat up the rear of the field, and from the beacon of light in front, Derek could make out the faint outline of steel.
Switching from human to wolf eyes, Derek allowed his other half to see what the man couldn’t. A steel unit stretched out across the field, the main entrance situated under the light. It ran down until the back of it trailed off, and Derek knew that without his wolf eyes he could not have made out the full length of it. Steel against steel, the outhouse was built to withstand the adverse Irish weather, the only chink in its armor being the glass roof… unless the glass was specially designed to take all kinds of weather, which Derek was certain it had been. Otherwise, under the strain of a blustery winter’s night, the glass would have shattered long ago. The scent of blood and fear tainted the air, but from Derek’s nose, he was unsure if the blood was old or new.
“I don’t think Donnelly simply forgot to turn off the light,” Donnie said.
His tone was still slightly slurred, but it seemed the high was evening out. Good—they needed his muscle.
“Indeed.” Caitlyn swept a curl from her face. “I think it’s a distraction. Donnelly knows we will hunt him. After the bomb, I’m weary of his methods. Nothing will be as it seems.”
Derek considered their words and knew they were right. “I think the light is a diversion so that we go in the back, and I bet he has it rigged. That means the only way in is through the front, but I could be totally wrong and he has both doors rigged to blow.”
“Well, that is encouraging.” Caitlyn snorted.
“We do have another option, though—one Donnelly couldn’t have known about.” Donnie stared at Caitlyn, who shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“Pour l’amour de Dieu!”
Caitlyn shifted out of her customary ankle-length duster, and Derek caught the hunger in Donnie’s eyes as he watched her. Ignoring them both, she pulled a hair tie from her wrist and gathered her thick curls into a ponytail. She glared at Donnie and then at Derek.
“You speak a word of what you see, and I swear that what I do to you will take an eternity to heal. I’ll make it so you never have little puppies of your own, much less romance your human. Understand?” Caitlyn hissed out, murder in her eyes.
Derek nodded, trying to hide the grin that threatened to derail the whole scene. Donnie was already grinning like an idiot, there was no need for him to follow suit. Caitlyn gave Donnie a hard push on his shoulder, but the mountain of a man didn’t as much as budge. Like a panther in the night, Caitlyn slipped through the overgrowth, and in the time it took Derek to lower his lashes and raise them again, Caitlyn was at the side of the slaughterhouse.
She turned to glare once more at them as Donnie shuffled closer to Derek. Crouching low, Caitlyn bent her knees, and then she was in the air. Derek’s mouth hung open as she levitated over the glass roof of the building. With ease, she ghosted her feet onto the roof, testing its strength until she was assured it would hold her weight. Legends were legends for a reason, and although rumours quickly spread through the supernatural community, Derek understood fully why Caitlyn would want to keep this a secret.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” Donnie whispered.
“Did you know she could do that?”
The burly vampire nodded. “Since the night she changed me.”
“And only members of a certain line are rumored to hold such power?”
“Indeed.”
Derek blew out a breath. He still had so much to learn about Caitlyn. When he first met her, the French vampire had constantly looked over her shoulder. Now, he knew why.
“Can you do that?” Derek asked.
“Nope… not yet, anyway… Cait said it manifested in her around her fifth decade as a vampire, but I think my talents lie elsewhere.”
He wanted to probe further, the wolf curious as to what, exactly, those he considered part of his pack might be hiding. But everyone was hiding something; Derek himself couldn’t feel any grievance toward the vampire’s being guarded. He respected it. The wolf was designed to sniff out anything that might be useful should he need some leverage, but the man was simply curious, especially if Caitlyn had been made by whom he suspected.
Derek shook his head as a sharp whistle jerked his head up. Caitlyn stood like an avenging angel upon the roof, her hair mussed in the wind, hands firm on her hips and feet spread slightly apart. Caitlyn took a step off the roof and landed on the ground very catlike. Derek and Donnie jogged over to where Caitlyn waited, tapping her foot, a guarded expression marring her face.
“Was I right? Did he have the doors set to blow?” He had promised not to mention her ability, and he would hold that promise until she spoke to him about it.
Relief flooded her face. “The back door is indeed rigged with explosives. Not as much to kill but to definitely maim. The main door isn’t rigged at all. I smelled the scent of a nymph and heard a heartbeat, but only one. I don’t think Donnelly is here.”
“Damn it!” Derek snarled, clenching his fists and wishing he had something to punch. Instead, he brushed past Caitlyn and tried to lift the latch on the slaughterhouse door. It creaked, obviously needing a little oil to loosen it, but didn’t budge. Gritting his teeth, he fisted the latch in his hand and yanked with all the strength he had. It snapped in his hand, and the steel doors inched open a smidge. Derek inclined his head at the vampires and slipped inside, pushing the door open fully and waiting for a click or indication that the place would blow.
When nothing happened, Caitlyn and Donnie followed him, and as Derek breathed in the repugnant air, the scent of old blood and raw meat stirred the wolf in him, causing it to snap, snarl, and bang itself against the corners of Derek’s mind, baying for control. He pushed at the wolf, snapping a metaphysical leash on him and reminding the wolf that he, the man, was in charge. The wolf swiped a paw in his mind and Derek flinched, but then the wolf simply paced inside him, unhappy but controlled. For now.
The smells were affecting the vampires as well, more so Donnie than Caitlyn, but he guessed age had something to do with that. Their eyes were ringed with red. Caitlyn shook her head, the red dulled, and her normal grey eye colour returned. Derek moved forward, eager to find the girl and go after Donnelly. He couldn’t smell his scent, but he could smell the nymph, her earthy scent laced with terror.
The slaughterhouse floor was slick with blood, and Derek found himself thankful for the boots he wore. Rows of me
tal containers ran down the length of the slaughterhouse. Derek knew that if he looked inside them, that they would resemble what he’d seen in the room when they had gone in search of Melanie. He didn’t get the smell of flesh, so he knew that the blood that covered the floor belonged to those already dead—something he would look into later.
He heard the creaking of a chair as his ears pricked at the sound of a struggle. No doubt, the girl had sensed them break the lock and was terrified her captor had come back. A muffled sound of pain caused Derek to speed past all the rooms to a chamber a mere foot or two from the device at the back door. He put his hand on the door where he scented the girl and went to open it, yet it didn’t budge. Hitting it with his shoulder, he barely made a dent in it.
Growling, he stepped aside and looked at Donnie, who simply shrugged and put both palms against the door. He pushed, but it looked like he was doing barely anything. He heard the steel door groan and crack under the vampire’s strength, and the wolf studied him as he would any other predator. The wolf huffed, content in the knowledge that this was friend not foe.
The door gave one final groan in resistance before it crumbled under Donnie’s strength and fell to the floor. Derek tilted his head, very wolf-like, saying, “Your talents lie elsewhere, eh?”
“Damn right.”
Derek went into the room first, and his wolf almost bashed against his skull as they spotted the girl. Tied to a chair, she had a gag in her mouth, eyes wide and darting all over the room. Her strawberry-coloured hair was matted, and Derek sniffed dried blood. She struggled against her restraints, and the scent of fresh blood tickled his nose. Her eyes settled on Derek, and tears welled in her eyes. A noise made her look behind him, and she immediately stank of fear.
Vampires were known to be bloodthirsty and violent, nightmares that parents told supernatural children at night so they wouldn’t venture too far into vampire territory. It was obvious Fern had heard such stories, and after what she had just experienced, Derek wasn’t about to frighten her any further. He glanced over his shoulder as Caitlyn leaned in and whispered into Donnie’s ear, both vampires retreating a little.
Derek cautiously edged toward Fern. He needed to reassure her that she was safe and he could take her home. “Fern.” His voice was low but held an edge of assertiveness that made her look at him. “My name is Derek, and I’m with the police. I’ve come to take you home. Your parents are worried about you. Do you trust me?”
Her nose wrinkled as she got a whiff of him. “Yes, I’m a wolf, but I won’t hurt you. I’m going to remove the gag first if that’s okay. I just need you not to scream.”
She nodded and blinked away the tears in her eyes, which the wolf approved of.
Derek gently untied the gag, and Fern gulped in a couple of breaths. As she did, Derek bent down and untied the restraints at her ankles as well as her hands tied behind her. Fern brought her arms forward and rubbed her wrists.
“Am I really safe?” the girl whispered.
Derek gently ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Yes, we can take you home now. I’m sure there are a lot of people who want to see you. But can I ask you about the man who took you? If you don’t want to talk, I won’t force you.”
He had bent his knees so that he was eye level with her. Fern jutted her chin out, determination replacing the fear in her eyes. “No, I’m okay. Ask me.”
This girl would survive and be stronger for it.
“Where did he go? And why leave you here alive?”
The girl cleared her throat. “He said I wasn’t enough, that he needed more. He talked to himself a lot… like, argued.”
Donnelly was devolving, sinking deeper into the madness.
“He told me that he had to hold back and stop himself from killing me. He had to resist my flesh.” The girl shuddered, and her lips trembled. “He said I was to distract the police from his objective. He mumbled a name over and over, and when he closed his eyes, I could tell from the look on his face he was imagining what he was going to do to her.”
Another brush of knuckles over her cheek, and she stopped trembling. “You’re doing very well, Fern. Do you remember what name he said?”
“Ever… he said he was going after Ever.”
The wolf howled and banged against his skull. The pain sent shockwaves throughout his body, and he stiffened. Rising, he pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead. Hands shaking with anger, he pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed Sarge’s number. The bear answered.
“We have the girl. She’s safe. Put Ever on the phone.” He growled the order, not caring that he was the subordinate and Sarge was his boss.
Something in his voice made Sarge obey, and he called Ever’s name. His heart pounded in his ears as he heard Erika say that Ever had gone outside for air about twenty minutes ago and hadn’t come back in. There was a lull in conversation, and then Erika spoke.
“She’s gone. There are mud prints, though, and they seem to head into the forest.”
Derek snarled. “Donnelly has her, and I’m going to break his neck.” He snapped the phone shut, and his eyes meet Caitlyn’s.
“Go… we will protect the girl with our lives.”
“You’re leaving?” the girl whimpered behind him.
“I have to, sweetheart. The girl he took belongs to me… she’s mine. I need to go to her. I trust these vampires with my life and yours, but I have to go.”
“She’s yours like Siobhan is mine… Go get your mate; I’m okay.”
Mate.
Both man and wolf liked the sound of that. And she was, he realized, his mate. It was why he was so drawn to her, why he wanted her with such passion and need. Why he felt calmed by her presence. Donnelly had taken what belonged to him, and he would feel the sharp edge of his teeth. Seems the wolf would sink its fangs into blood sooner rather than later.
He rushed from the room, satisfied that the girl was in safe hands with Donnie and Caitlyn. The wolf clawed and snarled at Derek, and he began to rip the clothes from his body, the need to be wolf overwhelming. He wasn’t worried about bloodlust because he would sate it by gorging on Donnelly. He made it out into the open, shucking off his boots when his knees gave out.
Bone crunched, cracking and shattering as human bones made way for lupine. His eyes morphed to amber, and his jaw broke, reforming with his muzzle and rows of sharp canines. His back bowed, and he groaned as the fire that was the change ignited his body and made man into beast. Long limbs stretched out in front of him, massive, powerful paws that could claw out a man’s throat in an instant. Fur coated his naked skin, and in one final, excruciating surge that rippled throughout his body, Derek the man was gone, replaced by a chocolate wolf that shook off the remnants of pain and raised its muzzle to the half-hidden moon.
A howl ripped through the dead silence, a vengeful sound that held the promise of blood and death. Derek, still able to form sentences in his mind, urged the wolf forward, telling him that their mate was in trouble.
The wolf understood what the man was saying, understood ‘mate’ as well, and needed to seek justice for the blood the monster had spilled. He would be the seeker of justice and would present his dead body to their mate as a present. The wolf grinned, its tongue lolling to the side of his mouth. The man pushed harder, and the wolf snarled but listened.
Gloat later… kill now…
The man snarled like a wolf, and the wolf loped off at a fast pace, eager for the taste of blood and the scent of his mate. They raced through the trees, braches smacking against his fur as his paws galloped through the forest. He wasn’t sure where he was going, pure instinct carried him as he went. The draw to the girl who would be his mate pulling him as if they were attached by a string.
He followed that string as rain fell down, splashing on his fur and nose, drawing a sneeze from him. When the wolf breathed in, he caught the scent of his mate. Sun. Sea. Sand… That was what his mate smelled like. The wolf was not a fan of the water, but when her scent embedde
d in his nose, she smelled right. His.
Ours.
The man who was part of him reminded him that he had to share, and the wolf decided he was okay with that. They gathered speed as the scent of their mate became heavier, closer. They heard the sounds of a struggle, of a fight, and they snarled, muzzle ticking with anger. The wolf slowed his pace and went down on his belly. Creeping forward through the bushes, he stuck his nose out and watched as their mate fought with such beauty, such grace that they were mesmerized by it.
Their mate wasn’t a fighter… but she certainly looked like it.
Man and wolf watched unnoticed for a few minutes, hidden in the shadows and waiting for their chance to strike. It took all the wolf’s control to keep the man at bay as he lunged forward in his mind to go help their mate. But they waited and stalked farther into the bush, their teeth wanting to feel bone in their grasp.
…And they would not let go until the last breath was wrung from he who would hurt their mate.
