by Megan Morgan
She needed her powers to work.
They marched through the forest. The Wolvites around them gave them a wide berth, as though they were repulsive. Snarls and hisses were thrown at them, and words as well, none of them kind. Torches lit the way through the night—torches that would light up the town, given the chance.
They wouldn’t get the chance, though. She prayed fervently the thing that would stop them was already lying in wait.
Someone pushed Deacon up beside her. His face was grim. She looked forward, down the broad path ahead of them. She concentrated on the emotions around her, breathed in the scent of the forest, bathed in the energy of nature. She kept repeating four words in her head.
Abernathy walked ahead of them, his stride broad, silver hair swaying against his bare back.
“You can’t do this!” Deacon yelled at him. “You do this, and they’ll come at you, worse than before!”
“Silence!” Abernathy snarled over his shoulder. “Keep your mouth shut, Lycan.”
Deacon’s presence added to the emotion. Bigger and bigger the energy inside her grew, until it crackled at the edges.
They walked. Through the trees, past pools, along clear paths and over rocky trails. Eventually, they arrived at a slope. They were about to come out of the forest, at or near the spot where her truck and Deacon’s were parked.
Her captor dragged her up the hill. Her legs ached and her senses were painfully sharp. The stench of Wolvites hung ungodly on the air. She nearly dry heaved.
They came out into the open air at the top of the slope. They weren’t at the pull off, but they were on the road near it.
In the middle of the road, Abernathy stopped and turned. His men held their torches aloft. Apart from the Wolvites pouring out of the trees around them—an eerie rustling like quiet doom—the night was still.
“I’m going to ask you one more time not to do this,” Lorena said, her voice muffled in her ringing ears. “This doesn’t have to happen.”
“I gave you a chance to not be part of this, witch.” Abernathy bared his teeth at her. Though they were human teeth, they were oversized and thick. “These Lycans will pay, but you didn’t have to.”
“They’re not the only ones who will pay.” Lorena stared him down. “There’s people in Blue Ditch who have never harmed you. And this won’t end well, you know it won’t. So many of your kind have already died. This is just going to perpetuate that.”
“Are you threatening me?” He loomed over her. “Are you threatening us?”
“I’m warning you.”
“What did this one tell you?” He reached out and gripped Deacon’s chin. “Did he tell you witches and Lycans belong together? That he could provide for you and give you a good life? Is that why you’re here now?”
“This isn’t about him.” Lorena continued glaring at Abernathy. “This is about everyone who’s going to die if you do this.”
“Lycans are pretenders.” He looked into Deacon’s eyes, still clutching his chin. “They are the rejected forms of our ancestors. They slunk off to the human world and adopted the protection that affords. We are the true descendants, the ones who will inherit this land. Witches and Wolvites are true mates.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Lorena said. “There’s a lot more than Lycans in that town. There’s innocent people.”
“No one is innocent.” He let go of Deacon. “For a hundred years they’ve trusted this Lycan’s family to ‘protect’ them from us. They are all guilty.”
“They don’t trust them anymore,” Lorena said. “Abernathy, there’s humans who support you now. Humans who have sympathy. They want the killing to stop.”
Neala laughed. “Like your agency? The ones who wiped this valley out? The ones who brought about this rebellion?”
“We only wanted the Lycans,” Dafydd said. “It didn’t have to turn into the slaughter it became.”
“I’m sorry,” Lorena said. “I’m sorry for what happened. But if you do this, the violence is only going to get worse.”
“Enough,” Abernathy snarled. “We don’t pander to humans and Lycans. This has been coming for a long time. You deserve it.”
“Maybe we do.” Lorena gazed desperately at him. “But you don’t deserve what’s going to happen to you if you do this.”
“Silence!” He slashed a hand at her. “We move in. Go into the town. Burn everything, kill what you can catch. Feast and destroy!”
Howls went up and filled the night with vibrant terror. Lorena writhed against the man who held her, but he kept her in place.
“Don’t be so upset,” Neala taunted her. “Abernathy may be merciful. He may not make you watch them eat your boyfriend.”
Lorena glared at her. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my mate.”
Deacon’s eyes widened. He looked stunned, then his expression morphed into one of pride. Energy emanated from him. Exactly what she needed.
They started down the road, toward the town. The Wolvites streamed around her, crunching and stomping in the gravel. The howling was fierce. Hell awaited, but for whom?
The Wolvites were beyond reason now, beyond the idea of self-preservation, beyond Abernathy’s order to leave them alone. They snapped and snarled, swiping claws at them, throwing stones. Her captor made her arm hurt with his grip.
The lights of town loomed into view through the trees. People in those houses had no idea what marched their way. But hopefully, someone did.
The trees thinned as they reached the edge of town. Many of the Wolvites were in animal form now. They ran into the shadows while those with torches remained on the road. The night hung black over Blue Ditch.
Another energy reached her, distinct from that around her. Human.
“Oh God.” She twisted in her captor’s grip. “No! Not yet!”
Abernathy turned, hand in the air. “On my command.” His voice boomed. “You will—”
A blinding light flooded the road. Others, just as bright, lit up the trees around them. Lorena turned her face away.
Snarls turned to screams. All was drowned out in a volley of gunfire.
Chapter 25
Lorena escaped her startled captor’s grip and barreled forward, toward the light, blind and desperate. Somehow, none of the bullets hit her. The gunfire was deafening.
“Stop!” she screamed. “Stop firing!”
Miraculously, the shots lessened. Not because of her, though.
“Hold your fire!” a man yelled. “Hold! There’s humans!”
The shots tapered off, replaced by shrieking and wailing behind her, the cries of the wounded. She stumbled beyond the glare of the lights and into a line of trucks and Jeeps that blocked the road. People stood on top the vehicles, holding guns.
“Stop shooting!” she cried. “You don’t realize what’s going on!”
Someone grabbed her by the shoulders. “Lorena.” It was Dr. Winston.
“You came back,” she panted. “I was worried no one would believe me.”
“I urged the soldiers still here to mobilize.”
She turned around and looked frantically for Deacon in the chaos, but didn’t see him. A group of Wolvites tried to surge forward again and shots went off.
“Stop!” she yelled. “The Wolvites have human forms, and there’s other humans out there too, witches and Lycans. They have to stop firing!”
Dr. Winston looked around at a man on the hood of a nearby truck. “Hold your fire!”
“They’re coming at us,” the man said. “What are we supposed to do? We can’t let them get into town.”
Lorena rushed toward the Wolvites.
“Lorena!” Dr. Winston called after her.
She flung her arm out, forcing every ounce of energy from her fingertips. “Paries parietis cedo Wolvites!”
A shimmer rippled through the air, like an invisible curtain that fell. The Wolvites that were charging forward fell back.
She stumbled back, gaping. She’d done it. She�
�d put up a ward.
But it wouldn’t last long.
“There’s a ward.” She turned to Dr. Winston. “Wolvites can’t get through. We have to talk to them!”
Dr. Winston waved to the man on the truck. “There’s a ward, we’re going to try to stop this.”
The man jumped down. Lorena tried to find Deacon in the crowd again.
Abernathy strode toward them, fists clenched, eyes burning. Several others followed him, including Dafydd and Neala.
Lorena stood close to the ward. Energy radiated off it and made her hair stand on end.
“Amazing,” Dr. Winston muttered. “This is a Wolvite?”
“You can see him?” Lorena asked, wide-eyed. “You see him as a man?”
“I’m allowing them to see me.” Abernathy’s chest heaved. “Why are you here, how did you know we were coming?”
“I’m Sergeant Pierce,” the man with the gun said. “We’re here to stop you from getting into this town. Who the hell are you?”
“He’s the leader,” Lorena said. “The Wolvites have human forms.”
“Hey!” a voice called out. Lorena looked over her shoulder.
Deacon’s father darted from the line of vehicles, a shotgun in his hands. “Where’s my son? Where are they? They haven’t come back from the woods.”
More of Deacon’s relatives stood amongst the vehicles. Apparently, the Lycans were allowed to participate this time.
“Give us the Lycans,” Lorena told Abernathy. “Please. Give them to us and they won’t open fire on you again.”
Sergeant Pierce looked at her like she was crazy.
“We will tear the Lycans to shreds before your eyes.” Abernathy snapped his teeth. “We’ll toss their heads over for you, how’s that?”
“Please.” Lorena turned to Sergeant Pierce. “We have to negotiate. They can’t come through the ward. Tell them if they send the Lycans over you’ll talk peace with them. There’s witches out there too. This has to stop!”
“Those Lycans are my family,” Ray said to the Sergeant. “Do whatever you have to, we’ll gladly negotiate.”
The ward wouldn’t hold forever, it might not even hold a typical length of time since she wasn’t a strong witch. The clock was ticking.
“All right.” Sergeant Pierce shouldered his gun. “Send them over and we won’t fire on you. We’ll talk.” Lorena didn’t quite believe him.
“I don’t want to talk,” Abernathy said. “I want to destroy you. There’s no peace to be had.”
“You can’t come through the ward,” Lorena said. “If you don’t send them over, they’re going to kill you. All of you. Is that what you want? After you’ve already suffered so many losses? Do you want to lose more of your family?”
Abernathy focused on her.
“We can figure something out.” Lorena tried to keep her voice calm. “We can figure out a way to end this bloodshed.”
Abernathy stood silent a moment, then he turned. “Bring the Lycans forward!”
Lorena let out the breath she’d been holding. They weren’t out of danger yet, though.
From the churning crowd of Wolvites, Deacon and his cousins were dragged forward. They all seemed uninjured, they hadn’t been shot.
“Thank God,” Ray said.
Neala rushed forward, toward her biological father. She stepped up to the ward and stopped, though she could have come through.
“Scared for your family?” she taunted Ray. “Worried about them? You poor Lycan man, you’ve already lost so much, haven’t you?”
Ray blinked. “Mel? What the hell are you doing out here?”
“No, not Mel. I’m your—”
“Silentium placidus cohibeo!” Lorena hoped she got the words right. She couldn’t let Neala do this, not right now. They had enough problems.
Neala’s voice cut off. She clutched at her throat and stared at Lorena in outrage.
Abernathy shoved Jack hard, so he stumbled through the ward. Dr. Winston and Ray caught him.
“One,” Abernathy said. He pushed Zeke, who stumbled through and Lorena caught him. She collapsed under his weight. “Two.”
Lorena heaved Zeke off and scrambled to her feet.
Abernathy placed his hand on Deacon’s back. “Th—” He stopped, and looked down at him. “No, this one, I think I’ll keep.”
Deacon was a big man, but Abernathy made him look small. He jerked Deacon’s head to the side. Abernathy’s face morphed into the snout of a Wolvite, his fangs extended.
Lorena screamed. Ray jerked his gun up and aimed at Abernathy. Deacon grimaced, eyes closed, his head wrenched to the side and throat exposed. He could survive a bite, but not his throat torn out.
Lorena rushed forward, with no idea if she broke through the ward if it would rip apart. Just then, something shot out of the trees, low and fast, and dashed toward them. Not a Wolvite, too small.
Clem leapt on Abernathy, snarling and snapping. The poor dog was no match for the giant man, but the attack provided enough distraction to make Abernathy let go of Deacon. Deacon stumbled forward and Lorena reached for him. She pulled him through the ward. Abernathy morphed completely into his Wolvite form. Clem yelped wildly as it grabbed him.
A blast went off. She and Deacon tumbled to the ground. A moment later, Clem streaked past, toward the vehicles. Abernathy howled. Ray had shot him.
The howling of the Wolvites rose anew. The ward shimmered, about to dissolve.
She looked wildly around and tried to find Sergeant Pierce. He stood a few feet away, his gun raised.
“You have to talk to them! You have to make peace, they’re humans! They just want to save their families!”
He ignored her. He made a sweeping motion with his harm.
Cold horror swept over her. Something tugged inside her as the ward collapsed.
She screamed out “No!” but her voice disappeared in the thunder of guns.
Deacon threw his body over hers and shielded her. She curled against him, hands over her head, shrieking against his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this was a nightmare, this was madness. Grief flooded through her. She had done this. She had called the agency, warned them the Wolvites were coming. She had brought this destruction to them when they had already lost so much. Witches would die too, innocent women who had never killed or harmed.
The ground vibrated with gunfire, the air thick with smoke. The faint sound of snarling and screaming rose beneath the clamor. She lay paralyzed, numb to the words Deacon whispered in her ear, trying to comfort her.
The shooting seemed to go on forever. They had broken out the big guns, the constant rat-a-tat of automatics, not just the pop of pistols and boom of shotguns.
Finally, the firing slowed. People shouted. Her ears rang and her head thumped. Deacon was soaked with sweat. So much gunfire it had heated the air.
She didn’t move until the last shot went off and silence reigned—relative silence, for people were still shouting. The snarling had ceased, however.
She lifted her head slowly. Deacon moved off her. She gazed through the haze of smoke, toward the horror the spotlights revealed in the road.
Piles and piles of bodies, not just hair-covered ones, humans as well. Red everywhere, red over all of it, splashed on the grass and across the gravel, on the trees.
“No,” she choked out. “God, no.”
Deacon helped her sit up. Nearby, Dr. Winston and Ray lay on the ground, gaping at the massacre as well.
“Lorena.” Deacon’s voice cut through the ringing in her ears. “Baby, are you all right?”
She slumped against him. “I did this. I caused this.”
“No.” He cradled her face. “You didn’t do this. No one could have stopped this. They weren’t gonna stop for nothing. You tried to warn them.”
She wept. It was all she could do. No rationalizations, no mitigating factors could justify this. Her involvement and complacency in an organization that had destroyed a species was more than she co
uld bear. The destruction lay at her feet. She couldn’t do this anymore.
She wouldn’t do this anymore.
Chapter 26
Lorena stood up from Deacon’s couch, wrapped in his robe and holding a cup of coffee. She walked to the living room window and peeked out. A car pulled up the driveway. The morning light hurt her tired eyes. She hadn’t slept much, a few minutes here and there, always jerked awake by the sound of gunfire in her dreams. Her hearing still wasn’t back to normal.
“Someone here?” Deacon strode in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.
Clem hurried after him. In true dog fashion, he knew his way home. He’d been sitting on the front steps when they returned last night.
“It’s Dr. Winston.” Lorena drew back from the window. “He must have news for us.” She set her coffee cup down.
Clem barked at the door. Deacon nudged him back.
“Go on and eat your steak.” He directed him toward the kitchen. “Ain’t nobody out there gonna hurt us.”
Clem went back to the kitchen.
“Steak, huh?”
“That old boy saved my life, he can have a whole damn cow if he wants.”
Deacon was no worse for wear—he had a couple scratches and bruises that were already mostly healed, but nothing major. Lorena was sore and stiff. She didn’t have fancy Lycan healing powers.
“You want me to go out and talk to him?” Deacon asked. “You can grab some breakfast if you want, most of it’s ready.”
She shook her head. “I want to hear what’s going on.”
Deacon opened the door.
The morning was cool. Dr. Winston walked from his car and across the yard. They went down the front steps to meet him. Lorena didn’t have shoes on and the grass was cold and wet.
“Morning Lorena, Deacon,” Dr. Winston greeted them. “Sorry, I’ve been at the site since before daybreak.” He brushed at his clothes. They were dirty, his boots caked with mud, and blood.
Last night, Dr. Winston accompanied them to Deacon’s house and they told him everything—about Dafydd, about Abernathy, about the Wolvites in general, what happened in the cave, the march to Blue Ditch. They told him about Neala.
