He wasn’t the only one. Lore caught sight of Helver. The youth’s eyes were bugging out of his head, mesmerized by the show of dominance. Common sense had failed to turn him around. Maybe this would.
On one level it disgusted Lore, but it was also part of being a hound. It would take decades in the human world to change the fundamental dynamics of the pack. Biology was involved. Just like when the Alpha has to choose a mate.
Talia. He wouldn’t even consider not having her. She was part of him. Something had happened between them last night, as urgent and primal as this fight. She is my mate.
Lore stepped back, watching Grash redden the snow with his blood. His fingers twitched, as if considering another pounding.
Grash rolled onto his back, his eyes blazing with anger. “Damn you.”
The words were muffled, barely token defiance. Lore felt a brief tingle of satisfaction. Time to drive the point home.
He put his boot on Grash’s cheek, crushing the hound’s face into the snow.
“Respect our young. Got it? Maybe you should repeat after me.”
Saturday, January 1, 4:00 p.m.
101.5 FM
“Hello and a Happy New Year from your hostess Errata Jones, covering the afternoon and all night tonight on this special holiday show from CSUP.
“It was a busy night last night in Spookytown, and we’ll have special coverage of all those events. But first, a special get-well wish to my dear friend Perry. If you’re listening, dude, why aren’t you in bed and asleep?
“Second, a farewell to Darak and all your crazy clan, who are on a plane and going places. Thanks for dropping by and lending a hand. You guys know how to work hard, but you are scary when it comes to after-game playtime.”
Saturday, January 1, 4:00 p.m.
The Castle
Talia woke to find the bed covered with flowers. They were the delicate six-petaled blooms she’d seen by the starlit pond, white and pink and scented like warm honey. They were a symbol of the rejuvenating Castle, a gift of life where there had been only darkness before.
Though Lore was gone, he’d left this token of his affection behind. She lay beneath the floral carpet for a long minute, picking one of the blossoms off the comforter and twirling it in her fingers. If these can grow in constant night, in a place where nothing is supposed to live, maybe there’s hope for me yet.
She felt so close to Lore, as if every beat of his heart somehow pushed blood to hers. It was pure romantic fancy, but she floated on it, enjoying the feeling of adoring and being adored. All her misgivings about the pack and their future were for that moment suspended.
Lore had left word with Mac that Talia should find him at Osan Mina’s. After borrowing fresh clothes from Connie, Talia made her thanks and left. She slipped quickly through the streets, conscious that last time she’d walked into the hellhounds’ domain, Lore had been at her side. She took extra care, watching who was around her as she passed through Spookytown.
When she reached Osan Mina’s door, the old woman responded before Talia had time to rap twice.
Mina was bundled into a heavy dark coat. “You’re here. Good. We go now.”
“Where?” Talia asked, stepping back so Mina could close the door of her town house behind her.
“Mavritte has challenged Lore for rule of the pack.”
Talia’s jaw dropped. “What? Now? They were in a huge battle last night.”
Mina shrugged her coat closer around her bony shoulders. “It is past time he settled things with her. Pack business had been pushed aside too long.”
“But—”
“Lore punished Grash. Grash is Redbone. Mavritte will not accept him beating one of her people.” Osan Mina gave Talia a shrewd look. “Grash needed beating for Helver’s sake.”
The names flew by Talia in a meaningless rush. “Can’t Lore refuse?”
“Pack law says Alpha must fight if she demands. She demands.”
That Talia could believe. She remembered Mavritte threatening to challenge Lore when they were at the Empire Hotel. Lore had seemed confident that he could refuse, but maybe whatever happened with this Grash guy had changed that.
Mina led her down the street to a small playground.Talia trailed after, having a flashback to her high school days when the tough kids would scrap behind the school—a spectator event for every teen from a mile around. Here, hounds crowded around the site, but were oddly quiet. No one seemed happy about what was going on.
The fight seemed so bizarre after the huge battle to protect Fairview and Omara from Belenos. In numbers it was insignificant, and yet in many ways it was more crucial to her happiness. A vampire monarch had fallen last night—she’d killed him—but the fate of this tiny hellhound pack mattered more, because she loved Lore.
The playground was lit by streetlights that threw the onlookers’ shadows across the frozen grass. The area had been cleared of snow, the picnic tables pulled to one side. They’d prepared for the fight, an added sign that it was important to the pack. A low, worried murmur buzzed around the crowd, which had split into two halves. One was more numerous. The other was smaller, but looked meaner. Those had to be Mavritte’s Redbones.
Osan Mina led her to the larger half of the crowd. It parted, letting them through so they had a good view of the playground. Many of the bystanders bowed to Mina. Even more gave Talia curious looks—not hostile, but not really friendly, either.
“Lore asked me to explain.” Mina folded her arms and snorted. “Explain pack business to a vampire. Ha!”
Talia rubbed her hands together, wishing Lore were next to her. He was always warm. “So, what’s going to happen?”
Osan Mina shrugged, but the strain on her face was obvious. Hellhounds usually hid their emotions from outsiders, which meant Mina was truly worried. “They fight. One dies. The other is Alpha.”
“Dies!” Talia knew that much already, but the words still jolted her. Before, a challenge to the death had been talk. Now it was staring her in the face. “Does anyone ever not die?”
“Only if they swear forfeit.”
“What does that mean?” Talia looked at the empty space in the middle of the playground. The volume of the crowd’s murmurs had gone up a notch, but she couldn’t see anything yet.
“Their life belongs to the victor,” Mina said. “The winner can ask for it whenever they choose. To swear forfeit is the act of a coward.”
“Neither of these two is going to do that.”
“No. If you have sworn forfeit, you cannot mate. Your life is not yours to give anymore.”
Talia had a sudden, horrible feeling. Was that how Lore was going to get out of taking a mate in the pack? But that would mean losing, and Mavritte being Alpha. Lore would be honor bound to die for her whenever she chose.
Well, that won’t work. “Have you tried voting for an Alpha?”
“We like someone. That is one thing. We trust someone to protect the pack. That is another.” Mina’s eyes turned hard. “In Lore, we have both. He needs a mate. It must be one of his own people.”
Talia felt anger rise in a hot prickle. It just wasn’t fair. It was surreal and stupid. “There’s something I don’t understand. If hellhound souls are born again and again, how come there are fewer hounds now? You said a lot died in the Castle, but shouldn’t they be reborn?”
The surrounding babble got louder. “Magic can kill a soul,” Mina answered, and then turned her attention to the empty ground ahead.
Talia stared at Mavritte as the she-hound strutted into the middle of the playground. It might as well have been a boxing ring. Lore’s side stayed silent, but hers gave a ragged cheer, pumping their arms in the air. The sound brought gooseflesh to Talia’s arms.
For once, Mavritte wasn’t bristling with weapons. All she wore was a loose T-shirt and yoga pants.
“How do they fight?” Talia asked.
“No weapons. The beast form cannot be hurt, but the two-legged can.”
Talia thought of her bullets passin
g through Mavritte in the Empire. As canines, they did seem to be invincible—except for quicksilver bullets and demon fire. “Why not just stay in hound form?”
“They can stay hound only as long as five counts. Otherwise, where is the battle?”
Talia rubbed her face, wishing that when she looked up, she would be back in bed with Lore. What did you do today, Talia? Oh, I watched my lover in a bloody death match.
She wanted to throw up, tension corkscrewing through her gut. I’ll stop this myself if I have to. That shebitch is going to have to come through me.
Then Lore walked into the makeshift ring. These cheers were loud and heartfelt. No mystery who the favorite was in this event. He peeled off his jacket, then his shirt, leaving only his jeans and sneakers. Talia’s breath caught at the sight of his body, the rich tan of his skin flowing over powerful muscles. He tossed his clothes to one side and scanned the crowd. Talia stood on her toes, willing him to look her way. Over here!
He stopped, their eyes meeting. In that instant, she saw him not just as Lore, but as Alpha. He was every inch the hellhound king, strong, just entering his prime, the favorite of his people.
I love you! she thought desperately. Don’t forfeit your life to Mavritte. Be Alpha. Win. I’d rather lose you than watch you lose what you care about.
He could never belong just to a mate. In many ways, he was the pack.
Sacrificing everything for love was a nice dream, but this wasn’t like quitting a job and moving towns. This was life and death. And she loved him. She wanted whatever would be best for his sake.
Her mouth trembled, wanting with every cell in her body to be lying next to him, lost in the Castle’s darkness.
He looked away, his expression that careful, neutral face he wore when he didn’t want his feelings to show.
So what am I going to do? There wasn’t a damned thing she could do, unless she climbed into the ring and shot Mavritte. But as she thought it, she realized she couldn’t. This moment wasn’t about her; this was about the pack. She was on the outside. Lore had to settle it.
The fight was starting. It looked wildly unequal because Lore was simply bigger than Mavritte, but that didn’t seem to faze either of the combatants. They circled, half-crouched, snarls so low that Talia might have imagined them if not for the chills that ran down her backbone.
Mavritte struck first, coming in low and fast under Lore’s guard. He seemed to roll out of the way, letting her momentum carry her past him. He grabbed her by the waist as she passed, throwing her to the ground—but not before she lashed out with one heel, landing a bruising blow to Lore’s thigh.
Talia realized she was gripping her hands together like she was praying. Maybe she was—for a quick end before the suspense killed her. Rekilled her. Whatever.
Mavritte was up again, landing another kick—this time to Lore’s shoulder. Talia could hear it connect, and winced.
She analyzed the moves, remembering the lessons she’d learned from years of Hunter training. Mavritte didn’t have a man’s upper-body strength, but she was agile and knew how to use what power she had. Mavritte could have used that to advantage, but she repeated the same moves too often, allowing Lore to learn her patterns. Lore blocked the next shot, getting in one of his own and sending her staggering back.
“Good,” murmured Osan Mina.
Talia bit her lip, and then remembered why vampires shouldn’t do that. Ouch.
Lore flowed into hound form, but then so did Mavritte. The two wrestled, snarling and clawing in a ball of red-eyed shadows. The crowd began chanting in another language, but Talia got it: the five-second rule.
When they hit five, Lore turned back to human form, dancing away from Mavritte. Then she was human again too, but now had long, red scratches down her arms. She had turned a microsecond too soon, letting his claws touch her human flesh. Her eyes were glittering with wild excitement, her mouth stretched in a mocking smile. Lore was still stone-faced, but his cheeks were flushed.
“He could end this,” Mina grumbled.
“I don’t think he wants to kill her,” Talia replied, once again remembering their confrontation at the Empire. “I think if there was another way, he’d take it.”
Lore had done something to send Mavritte tumbling to the grass at the edge of the ring. Her fall hadn’t looked entirely natural, and that set Talia’s alarm bells off. In fact, the whole crowd gasped—and gasped again when Mavritte rose holding a stiletto. The long, thin blade gleamed in the streetlight.
“Knife! ” Talia yelled, lunging forward.
Mina grabbed her arm. “No.”
“You said no weapons!” But Talia had her gun.
But there was an underlying logic. If Lore died, they still needed an Alpha. Mavritte was the next strongest hound, whether or not she fought fair.
Mina’s iron grip clenched harder. “Let them settle it!”
Mavritte grabbed Lore, clinging to him like a desperate lover, and drove the knife into his back.
Talia screamed.
Lore vanished.
Mavritte stumbled away, tripping over herself in confusion.
What did Lore do?
The seconds dragged on interminably, the hounds as one beginning to call out in agitated voices.
“He can’t hold it this long!” Mina cried, gripping Talia’s coat sleeve.
“Hold what?” Talia’s eyes were blurred with tears of fright.
“The state between man and hound!”
Talia thought about it—there was a brief second between forms where the hounds looked like a cloud of black dust. What happened if he stayed that way too long? Did he ever come back?
Oh, God, Lore . . .
But the hound dropped from the air, crushing Mavritte beneath his weight. Lore gripped Mavritte’s throat in his jaws, one massive paw covering the knife.
A cry of wonder sounded from the hounds. Apparently the vanishing act was a big show of power, but Talia was focused on what came next. The throat-ripping part. Is he going to do it? Talia wanted to turn away and needed to watch.
“He can’t!” Mina hissed. “No, the fight was over! He should finish it.”
There was no tearing of throats. A sob mixed of frustration and relief escaped Talia’s throat.
Lore was back in human form, holding the stiletto. He stood under the streetlight, his figure dark and sharply defined against the backdrop of snow. “Mavritte of the Redbones, you broke the laws that rule the fight for dominance,” he said in a deadly voice.
Mavritte scrambled to her feet, putting some distance between her and Lore, but the crowd tightened around the ring, blocking any escape she might have planned.
“Kill me,” she snarled. “If you think you’ve won, end this!”
Lore’s face was back to that neutral expression. Somehow it was worse than if he’d been screaming at her. “You lose the right to challenge me, Mavritte of the Redbones. Your people and your property belong to the Alpha of the Lurcher pack. To me.”
She fell on her knees. “Will you protect my people?”
“They are my people now. I will protect them.”
That’s why she did this. She knew this would happen if she cheated. She sacrificed herself for the sake of her hounds.
Talia’s skin prickled with shock. She hadn’t expected selflessness from Mavritte. “Is her life forfeit?”
“Not unless Lore demands it.”
So he doesn’t have to kill her. Talia narrowed her eyes. There was something suspiciously convenient about the match. Lore lost nothing. Mavritte got something she wanted. She had secured the best king with the most resources to watch over her hounds, even though it cost her pride and rank among her own people.
Talia felt a wave of respect for the she-hound, but it was short-lived.
“Will you take a mate?” Mavritte asked Lore, in a loud, clear voice.
The crowd went utterly silent. Talia could hear the hum of the streetlights above. Lore hesitated, turning the knife over a
nd over in his hand. Talia froze as his gaze veered her way, touching her face.
“I will take a mate of my own choosing.”
Talia’s spirits sank as every hound turned her way, disapproval and anxiety in their eyes. She stood between them and their future. If Lore stayed with her, there would be no young. Hellhound souls couldn’t be reborn. Soul mates couldn’t be found. The life of the pack wouldn’t go on.
Their expressions all said one thing. She had no business with their king. She wasn’t even properly alive.
Lore couldn’t lie. His choice was clear—he wanted her.
But she wasn’t what they needed or wanted in their Alpha’s mate. But he was what they needed in their leader. Even Mavritte knew it, and was willing to pay a huge price to have him lead her pack.
Talia’s body ached. She was dying all over again.
I can’t be that selfish. I have to let him go. She exchanged a long look with Osan Mina.
“Okay,” was all she said.
Mina gave a single nod, and turned her face toward her king. The connection between them stopped dead, suddenly sliced away. It was as if Talia had instantly ceased to be.
Talia turned her back and walked away, her whole body burning with anguish. She heard commotion behind her, cries of disbelief and confusion.
Don’t let him be coming. Don’t let him. This is hard enough.
“Talia!” Lore ran past her, turning, blocking her path. “Why are you leaving?”
His bare chest was heaving, though he couldn’t be out of breath from such a short run.
I love you.
Kind, brave, in love with her, practically declaring himself in front of the whole world—how much more perfect could Lore be? She began to feel tiny sobs bubbling up through her frame. “You know why. They need you—all of you. You have to be with someone from your pack. If you leave them and come with me, it will destroy you. Maybe not right away, but you’ll come to hate me.”
Shock widened his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The pack doesn’t have a future if you take me. I can’t be a pack mother.”
“Those are all just myths!”
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