by Eva Brandt
“How unfortunate,” Roman said. “I didn’t want to be so indelicate with my princess. Why do you werewolves always have to interfere where you’re not wanted?”
Anger and panic exploded through me. Ignoring my pain, I attacked, fully intending to tear Roman apart or die trying.
The bullet hit Roman seconds before I could reach him. It went straight through his forehead, from the back of his head, and missed me, even if I’d been standing right in front of Roman when he’d been shot.
Roman didn’t just collapse like Imogen had. Instead, he blinked several times and reached for the gaping wound in his head. “This won’t end well,” he said. “I haven’t had a migraine in some time. I hate hunters.”
And then, his complexion turned gray, the marble white of his skin gaining a concrete-like appearance. He hit the ground with a dull thud and was still.
He wouldn’t be out of it for long. A part of me wanted to rush straight at him and finish the job. But my brain decided I had other priorities and I went to Imogen instead.
I dropped to my knees and checked her pulse with my good hand. She was out cold, but alive and breathing steadily. The wave of dark magic had left her pale and wan, but when I touched her, color started flooding her cheeks once again.
Even so, I still wanted to take her back to the pack and make sure she got some medical attention. Could it wait until I took care of Roman? I didn’t know.
The moment of hesitation cost me. In the blink of an eye, another vampire—this time male—was there and picking Roman up.
“Fall back!” the female shouted. “Back to the coven. The Blood Count is down. Retreat!”
Undead minions weren’t the fastest creatures in existence, but after the order was given, they quickly dropped what they were doing and disappeared into the shadows. The two elder vampires were already flying away.
If things had been different, I would have followed them. I would have hunted them down and exterminated them like the vermin they were. I didn’t. I stayed at Imogen’s side and bent over her, letting out a slow, relieved breath.
That had been too close. And it wasn’t over yet, not until Imogen opened her eyes and smiled at us again.
Chapter Eight
Imogen
The first thing I became aware of when I wake up was the sound of sharp, biting voices. “I’m telling you, Alpha Brooks, that I have the right to be here. Imogen is still my sister. I need to know what happened to her.”
Through the haze still clinging to my mind, I distantly recognized Alan. He was arguing with Xander, who had no intention of letting him reach me. “She’ll be given the best of care here, at the pack, with her true family. She doesn’t need you.”
“I beg to differ. You weren’t capable of protecting her before. If I hadn’t shot Roman, she and your Beta would have both died.”
“So you keep saying. But if your hunters hadn’t jumped the gun, Roman wouldn’t have been there in the first place. Maybe the first version of our plan would have worked and we’d have lost less people.”
“You can’t blame the casualties on me. That was always going to happen and you know it.”
“Of course I know it and I accept my share of the blame. I’m aware I should have done better and kept my pack safe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t trust you with Genny’s wellbeing and I never will.”
Another voice, this time female, interrupted the conversation. “Lead Hunter Lee, I think it’s time for you to leave. Alpha Brooks is very upset and you are only making things worse. If you want to speak to your sister, you can do so later, once she’s recovered.” It was Veronica and I had to wonder what she was doing here and why Ulysses wasn’t the one with me.
“So be it,” Alan said after a long pause. “I’ll leave for now. But this isn’t over.”
The door opened and closed as Alan stalked off in a huff. “That could have gone better,” Veronica said.
“Honestly, at this point, I couldn’t care less about him. I just want us to be able to move back to the pride lair already.”
“Yes, but you know it’s too dangerous for Imogen and Byron now. It’s safer for them to be here while they recover.”
Veronica’s comment chased away the lingering traces of my confusion. The memory of my confrontation with Roman flashed through my mind. All of a sudden, I could see Byron fighting the ancient vampire, burying his fist in Roman’s chest and being consumed by Roman’s dark magic.
I opened my eyes and got up on my haunches, starting to hyperventilate. “Byron. What happened to Byron?”
Within seconds, Xander was by my side, petting my hair and wrapping his warm arms around me. “He’s fine. Or he’s going to be. It was touch and go with his arm for a few hours. We thought he was going to lose it, but in the end, between our healing factor and some help from the witches, the tissue is recovering. It’s just exhausting and it’ll take some time for him to be back to normal.”
“But… It’ll happen, right?”
“Eventually, yes,” Xander replied. “We just need to give him a little time.”
There was something he wasn’t telling me. The new lines of strain on his face and the circles underneath his eyes weren’t just because of the casualties from the battle. “Xander, don’t lie to me. What does ‘eventually’ mean? What are we looking at, really? Why am I here and not in a room with him? Where is Ulysses?”
Xander didn’t answer, but Veronica did it in his stead. “Imogen, the gangrene came very close to killing Byron’s nerve endings. They’re recovering now but… How should I explain this? In a way, it’s an unnatural process. It’s life fighting death. Things that are dead aren’t supposed to come back to life. It’s very slow and…”
She trailed off, as if she couldn’t bring herself to finish the phrase. She didn’t need to. I understood anyway. “Painful. Excruciating.”
Of course it would be. It was just like when feeling returned to a numb or frostbitten limb, only a million times worse. Even beyond the physical damage, Byron would have to fight the added side-effects of the dark magic.
I felt ill. I wanted to cry at the unfairness. But I reminded myself life wasn’t fair. What mattered was that we were still alive. Roman was gone, at least for now.
“Can I see him or is it too dangerous?”
“I’d advise against it. You were also hit by Roman Popovic’s dark magic and if there are any leftover traces in your system, it could affect his recovery.”
Veronica didn’t mention it, but there was also my magic to consider. I didn’t want to think about that, but my powers weren’t harmless and I couldn’t fully control them. It was better to be safe than sorry.
“How long? H-How long do you think this will take?”
“Sister Ula said a few days, at most,” Xander explained. “Ulysses is with him, Genny, and Byron is too strong and stubborn to let this strike him down. He’ll be on his feet before you know it. You’ll see.”
He didn’t smile and oddly, that reassured me more than the words. It meant he was being honest, even if he was trying to protect me from the ugly truth. “You should stay with him, Xander,” I told him. “I’ll be fine on my—”
“Absolutely not,” Xander cut me off. “Don’t ask me that, Genny. Please.”
Maybe I should have insisted. He and Byron were very close and they’d been in a relationship even before I’d shown up to ruin their lives. But the look on his face said more than his words ever could.
Having to pick between two mates weighed on Xander almost as much as the individual wounds we’d taken. Besides, he undoubtedly had to deal with the aftermath of the battle and everything else that had gone wrong.
I had to help him and I wouldn’t do that if I nagged him about something he couldn’t change. “All right,” I said. I reached for my necklace and gripped it tightly in my fist. “Then I’ll stay with you. Veronica, is there any way I can get better faster? As the Alpha’s mate, it’s my duty to stand with the pack as su
ch a hard time.”
Xander’s breath caught. Veronica’s lips twisted into a small smile. “I’m not the best person to answer that question. As far as I know, you suffered from a very serious case of exhaustion, so I’d definitely recommend at least a few extra days of rest. But I’ll get Sister Ula to look you over again and she can tell you more.” She squeezed my shoulder with a gentle hand. “But before I go, Imogen, I have to thank you. If you hadn’t been there for us, things could have gone so much worse.”
I didn’t think that was true. I hadn’t done much against Roman. I might have distracted him a little, but in the end, he’d knocked me out with ease.
But it was better to not stir up trouble, so I decided to just acknowledge Veronica’s gratitude. “I was only fighting for my family. There’s no need to thank me.”
“Perhaps,” Veronica replied. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”
With that cryptic comment, Veronica turned on her heel and left the room. Now alone with Xander, I slumped back down on the bed. “Come here,” I told my Alpha. “Lie down with me.”
He took off his shoes and climbed into the bed next to me. As he pulled me into his arms, I relaxed against his chest and closed my eyes, still holding onto the necklace. “I’m sorry for not being stronger. I’m sorry for not being able to protect everyone.”
“None of this is your fault, Genny. No one could have anticipated what Roman would do.” He sighed and kissed my temple. “We all made mistakes. We believed we could predict every single vampire’s actions, when the truth is we know very little about them. And that’s what we’re paying for now, our arrogance and inability to see what was right in front of our noses.”
With a pang, I realized he was right. If we’d known this would happen, we would have dealt with Vladimir Popovic differently or we would have been more prepared for the unavoidable result. But we hadn’t and apologies weren’t going to change a thing.
“What do we do now? He’s going to come back, won’t he?”
According to the conversation I’d overheard, Alan had shot Roman. I assumed that must have been what had ended the fight. But a gunshot wound wasn’t enough to kill a vampire. Like Alan had said, this wasn’t over.
“Oh, I have no doubt that he’ll come back,” Xander said. “But by the time that happens, we’ll be ready.
“The pack elders had a point. We need to communicate with others of our own kind better and not rely so much on the humans. The Committee was useful, but it’s time for shifters to cooperate more, like we used to.”
“And will that work? Will the Committee even allow it?”
“I have no intention of asking them for permission.” His hold on me tightened a little more. “Just wait, Genny. I’ll build a new world for you, one where we can all be safe. No one will ever hurt you or the others again. No matter what I have to do and who I have to kill, I’ll protect you.”
The final sentence came out in a whisper, echoing in my mind and my heart instead of my hearing. He’d never used his telepathy with me before, but maybe this was a good sign, a sign that I truly belonged with the pack. Together, we could build something new and better.
Until Byron healed, we wouldn’t feel whole. Until he and Ulysses joined us again, the shadow of the undead would linger over our hearts. But I refused to let any of it defeat me.
I would still fight on. This time, it wouldn’t be for the code of the hunter, but for something that was far more important—my soulmates.
* * *
Ulysses
“Genny, run! You can’t stay here. They’ll kill you.”
I wiped Byron’s sweaty brow with a wet cloth, forcing my agitated magic under my skin. “Genny’s fine, Byron. She’s okay. You saved her.”
He didn’t hear me, not that I expected him to. “The monster… The demon… Run!”
I sighed and not for the first time, wished I’d been faster. If I’d been the one who’d attacked Roman and not Byron, my half-demon biology might have helped me heal. Vampires and demons used different kinds of magic, but they both had an affinity for shadows. I’d have handled Roman’s attack better, even if the spell he’d used seemed death-oriented. But unfortunately, I hadn’t been fast enough, and now here we were, with Byron a ruin of what he used to be.
Byron’s arm looked a little better, sort of. It wasn’t black anymore, but it was swollen, inflamed, covered in crimson pustules that occasionally seeped black liquid. Worse still, festering buboes had appeared over other parts of his body, mostly around his chest and thighs.
Ula swore up and down that this was a good sign. It meant Byron’s body was pushing the infection out. The abscesses would eventually pop. He’d heal fine and he wouldn’t even scar.
Looking at him, I couldn’t help but feel she was lying.
“Fire,” Byron continued to murmur. “It’s dark… Where are you?”
“I’m right here, Byron,” I told him and hated myself even more when he kept flailing, his arms jerking in the bindings around his limbs. They were another safety measure that had been deemed necessary, so that Byron wouldn’t hurt himself while in the throes of fever. I despised them. Werewolves weren’t supposed to be bound, not like this.
A knock sounded at the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I called out.
It was Xander and, much to my relief, he looked a little better than he had the last time I’d seen him. “Genny’s up. She’s already talking about finding a way to heal faster and helping me with the pack. She was very upset when she heard about Byron, but she understands why she can’t see him.”
The news was both good and bad. When Imogen hadn’t woken up immediately after the battle, we’d feared the worst. As far as I could tell, Roman Popovic hadn’t done a lot of physical damage to her and the only thing I’d been able to find was a serious case of exhaustion.
According to the witches, that was pretty much what had happened. Imogen hadn’t been prepared for the fight with Roman Popovic. The mental confrontation with Daimon Rossi couldn’t have helped. But they had cautioned against potential side-effects of the dark magic and had been overall very vague in what they’d told us regarding her condition.
I was thrilled she’d woken up, but feared that she’d get into another mess if she pushed herself too far, too quickly.
“You need to make sure she rests, Xander,” I reminded him.
“I will, but you know how stubborn she is. I have to approach things carefully. She feels guilty over the whole mess. And if I refuse her help, it might blow up in our face.”
I could see where he was coming from. No matter how many times we told Imogen that none of this was her fault, she kept blaming herself for everything that went wrong. She’d just started getting used to the pack and had even begun to make tentative friends with Sandra. We needed to make sure she didn’t lose her temper, but it wouldn’t work if Xander was too forceful.
“Maybe I can give you a hand,” I offered.
“I thought you might say that,” Xander replied with a weak chuckle. “You desperately want to see her, don’t you?”
“Moon help me, yes,” I answered. I looked back at Byron with a heavy heart. “But he needs me here.”
“I can stay for a few hours and keep an eye on him while you drop by to see Genny. There’s nothing too important to deal with right now.”
“No news on what the vampires are up to?”
“As far as I can tell, they vanished into thin air,” Xander offered. “Honestly, after that clusterfuck, I expected them to regroup and attack us within less than a day. Roman would have known Byron and Imogen would be out of the battle. Gypsy’s better, but she’s taking Sandra’s death hard. And there are still so many other dead, both among us and the hunters.”
“Maybe Roman’s injury is worse than we thought,” I mused.
“Maybe,” Xander whispered, but he didn’t sound convinced.
On the bed, Byron let out another choked groan. “Genny, run!”
<
br /> One of his pustules erupted in a puddle of black blood and puss. I winced as Byron’s body started contorting in pain. Xander clenched his jaw, looking like he was the one being tortured by dark magic. And as I bent over Byron and futilely tried to comfort him again, I knew what my Alpha was thinking.
Roman was still out there and still very dangerous. He hadn’t been taken out by Alan Lee’s gunshot. He was just waiting and biding his time. But why? What was he planning? And most of all, what had made him so interested in Imogen?
Chapter Nine
And behold, such is the misfortune that has befallen this brave fool, for he has accepted a contract with a foul demon. He believes he has won, that he has mastered the powers of darkness. But the wretches thrive upon tormenting the souls of those they lure with promises of power, and no mortal can ever control a demon.
A demon can fulfill any task a mortal gives him and, even if a human thinks they have enslaved the creature, this is not true. The wretch will keep coming, over and over, until his mortal master is out of things to ask for. And that is the moment when the demon will strike and consume his foolish master’s soul.
They say only sorcerers of great power can avoid meeting this end, for they know exactly what they have to request to keep the demon from achieving this goal. But in all my travels, I have yet to meet such a sorcerer. I wonder if they really exist or if they are just another tale, like the ones I weave for the weary travelers, in front of the campfire.
- The Lost Tales of Petre the Wanderer, 1356. Archived and Translated in the Library of the High Born Nation –
* * *
Roman
Contrary to popular belief, undead hated dying. We didn’t fear it per se. We controlled the powers of death, so to us, it wasn’t something to dread.
