Fighting for air, Val reeled backward from the blow, hitting the wall. He grabbed her shoulders, and she got her first look at his eyes. The clear blue was cloudy, surrounded by muddy, brown whites.
Val gasped. He’d turned. No, no, no.
He grinned, a parody of himself, no tenderness or happiness there. Frozen in dismay, she lost a precious instant. He slammed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. His nails dug into her skin.
Icy lightning shot into her body. Racked by the pain, shivering with it, she pushed against his ribs. “Griffin, no.”
She felt stronger, but even if she could form a shield, doing so while they were touching would put him inside it with her.
“Need to recharge, babe. Thanks.” He ground his mouth against hers as her power bled away. The edges of the world went black.
She slammed her open palms over his ears, ramming air into his ear drums. He cried out, head jerking back. His grip loosened. Val shoved him away, then spun into a waist-level side kick backed by all her remaining power.
It knocked Griffin backward. He slammed into the table across the room, hit the wall, then collapsed. He had to stay down. Panting, she held her aching side. Oh, God, please keep him down.
The bond was gone. Useless.
Her heart screamed with love and loss, but she had to get ready, prepare in case he got up again. She drew power from the woods outside. The pain in her side eased. The misery shredding her heart did not.
Could she really keep her promise and kill him?
Oh, please, no.
“Banning!” Stefan’s voice, from the hallway.
“In here, hurry!” She pushed away from the wall and managed, at last, to shield fully. But the protective aura felt unstable.
Don’t hesitate, Griffin had said. Take the kill shot.
She’d promised him. But now that she had Stefan and his vaccine, there was a chance to save Griffin.
Stefan rushed through the door with a glowing sword in his hand. His eyes met hers, assessed her in a quick sweep, as he lunged toward Griffin.
“Careful.” Panting, she drew more power from the woods. “It didn’t work. You should shield, Stefan.”
“I only do that in battle zones. I hate practicing medicine that way.” Stefan dropped his sword. He reached for Griffin’s pulse with one hand and touched his eyelid with the other.
Griffin’s free hand shot toward Stefan’s throat, and only Stefan’s quick reflexes and long reach saved him from a fatal grip. His fingers tightened, white-knuckled, on Griffin’s wrist.
Val dived for Griffin. Her shield flickered. As it died, she caught the arm he’d drawn back to punch. Snarling, he thrashed in her hold. He was still so strong, so hard to restrain.
“Griffin, please,” she panted, clinging desperately and drawing more power, “trust us. We love you.”
Stefan grabbed the inside of Griffin’s elbow, putting pressure and power into key points, immobilizing the arm.
Griffin’s teeth bared in a snarl. He leaned toward her, trying to bite, but she managed to hang on and stay out of range.
Stefan yanked a large syringe from inside his camo tunic and jerked the cap off its long needle with his teeth. “Hold him,” he gritted out.
Griffin bucked, trying to get his feet under him.
Stefan stabbed the needle through Griffin’s coverall, into his chest, and pushed the plunger. Val cringed. The injection was necessary, but that had to hurt.
Griffin’s body spasmed. His head fell back, eyes rolling. He roared in rage and pain. The muscles under Val’s hands bunched. She pulled against his tug. He went with her pull and smashed his fist into her jaw.
Her head rocked back, crashed against the wall. White-heat rolled behind her eyelids, then red. She fought against the black. If she went down—
Standing, Griffin caught her shirt. Pain blurred his image. Whatever he’d done had knocked Stefan out. The doctor lay slumped against the wall.
As Griffin yanked her up, she locked her hands into one big fist, ramming it into his balls.
With a choked cry, he doubled over. His grip relaxed.
She punched him in the solar plexus.
He backhanded her.
Tasting blood, she wheeled for a kick.
He caught her leg. Upended her.
She slammed both feet into his stomach, knocking him back. She dragged herself up, drawing power again as tympani played in her head. If only she could shield. The thought tore at her soul. Part of her still couldn’t believe she needed protection from him.
Snarling, he rolled to his feet. Nothing of the man she loved looked out of those muddy blue eyes, and the hatred in them tore her soul into bits.
He lunged.
Val sucked in a sobbing breath as she dodged. He crashed into the wall, clumsy, lacking that brilliant agility, and she banged her fist against the back of his skull. If only she could knock him out.
That wouldn’t matter though. He wasn’t himself, never would be again. The vaccine had been their last hope.
You’d be doing me a favor, he’d said.
So she’d promised him. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Somehow, she’d reach him.
Another sob cracked through her chest, tightening it as though in a vise grip. “Griffin, please. You’re my heart.”
“Bitch!” he wheezed, straightening. “I’ll fucking eat your heart.” He lunged, hands going for her throat.
Tears glazed her eyes and mercifully blurred her vision. She ducked under his arms, lunging away. Griffin, I love you.
Nothing came back to her, not even a vague sense of him, and her heart cracked.
Val pivoted to punch him, but he wheeled faster than she would’ve thought possible. He caught her hair, yanking her back, trapping her against the wall.
With death in his eyes, Griffin closed his hands around her throat. He squeezed. Val gasped for air as blackness rolled across her vision. Desperately, she tried to force his arms aside.
There truly was nothing of his essence left. Either she stopped him now, or she risked letting him escape, dooming him to live as what he most hated, a perversion of everything he believed in.
No.
Her heart splintered, the shards driving into her lungs, her gut, her soul. Val drew power from the forest outside and slammed a hook punch into his left kidney.
He grunted. His grip loosened.
“Morere,” she gasped, pressing her hands to his heart. She sucked in air, poured power into the contact, and screamed, “Morere.”
His eyes glazed as his hands dropped. His knees buckled. Keeping one hand on his chest, pouring in power behind the command, she caught him.
They crumpled to the floor together. Blinded by the tears rolling down her face, she held his head to her breast even as her other hand kept up that lethal flow of magic. “I’m sorry,” she choked through the grief and guilt clogging her throat, tearing at her soul.
“I’m so sorry.” She’d done as he asked, but she’d failed him. There should’ve been some way to save him.
“Stop,” someone shouted. “Banning!”
She couldn’t stop. She’d promised. Oh, Griffin.
She pressed a kiss against his cool, clammy brow as her tears plopped onto his face. “I love you, Griffin. Love you with all my heart. Love you always.”
The light in his eyes faded. For a moment, less than a heartbeat, his presence brushed her mind, warm and tender and probably imagined, and then he was gone.
Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her face in his neck, against his soft, dark hair. His bay scent was gone, too.
An inarticulate, enraged roar came from her left.
Val looked up at Stefan. The tears in her eyes blurred his image, but his grief and fury thundered in the magic between them. His sword pointed straight at her heart with lethal energy crackling around the blade.
“Do it,” she said. “Please.”
Chapter 25
If Stefan killed her, she w
ouldn’t have to live with what she’d done to Griffin. She used her sleeve to wipe her tears from his still face.
Stefan stood over them, breathing hard, his sword at the ready. “If we could’ve captured him—”
“Don’t you think I would’ve preferred that? It was too late.”
He searched her face for a long moment, then knelt in front of her and laid his sword aside. “Let me see,” he said quietly.
Because he was Griffin’s friend, she trusted him enough to raise her head, to lean out of his way, to let him touch that lax face. Looking grim, he felt Griffin’s neck, checking for the pulse.
At last, he shook his head. “I was afraid he might turn. So was he.” He drew her head against his shoulder with Griffin’s body between them. “I’m sorry. I saw you, and I didn’t think, just reacted.”
“I would’ve done the same.” Grief tore at him as it did her, and that was some comfort, that she wasn’t the only one who cared.
Val swallowed hard to clear her throat, but nothing seemed to stop the tears. “I promised him, if he ever— Oh, God, I promised. I wish I hadn’t.”
The sounds of battle had died. Since she didn’t hear any ghoul voices exulting in victory outside, the mages must’ve won. More of Griffin’s friends would be along any moment.
Stefan gave her a reassuring hug. “For whatever it’s worth to you, this was his greatest fear. You spared him that.”
A fresh flood of tears streamed down her cheeks. Shuddering with their force, Val clung to Griffin with one arm and his friend with the other.
“I’ll tell the others,” Stefan said. “They knew about the venom. They’ll understand, but better it comes from me.”
Footsteps hurried toward them, with mage anxiety swirling in the magic and heralding Griffin’s team. They halted in the doorway, but Val didn’t look up.
“In here— Shit, no. No,” a man’s voice said.
“He’d turned,” Stefan said bluntly. “There was no choice.”
“Fuck!” Chuck Porter slammed his fist into a wall.
The shock, grief, and fury of Griffin’s friends vibrated in the magic, a torturous mix that bore down on Val’s soul like an avalanche. Would they forgive her? Could she ever forgive herself?
“I’ll explain later.” Stefan told them. “Anybody hurt?”
“We’re all fine,” Lorelei said shakily. “Bumps and bruises only. No need for you to tend us or for us to share energy. Tom and the guys from Atlanta are on guard.”
Stefan nodded acknowledgment. “We’ll clean him up before we take him home.”
“Not to the Collegium, not to the people who hated and persecuted him.” Val pressed a kiss against Griffin’s dark head. “To Wayfarer. Miss Hettie.” People who loved him. “His family will understand. They can meet us there.”
“Much better idea.” Stefan glanced over his shoulder, composed despite the pain in his eyes. “Will, I need your help. Chuck, bring me a set of camos from the helo locker. Griff’s entitled to them.”
Damned right, he was.
“We’ll need a cleanup crew, too,” Will said.
“On it,” Tasha choked. She scrubbed angrily at her wet cheeks. “I’ll go with you, Chuck.” They hurried out of the room together.
Val released Griffin to Stefan and Will, then dragged herself to her feet as they lifted him onto the padded table. Will unsnapped the coverall.
Stefan said, “Someone get me a basin of water.”
The shock was fading, letting her brain kick in. Gene, she remembered, and everything in her went cold and hard. “Griffin told me who the traitor is. I have to avenge him.”
This must be how he’d felt when he’d buried his deputies and accused their killer and no one believed him. “Whether or not anyone believes me, that son of a bitch is going down.”
Lorelei slid an arm around Val’s shoulders. “He was the brother I always wanted,” she said in a voice thick with tears. “Do what you need to. I’ll have your back.”
“You’ll have lots of company.” Will stripped off the coverall, and Lorelei tactfully turned her head away.
Griffin’s arms lay limp at his sides, arms that wielded a quarterstaff with lethal skill yet tenderly cradled and comforted a homeless child. And Val herself. He’d held her in those arms, against that broad, scarred chest, in comfort, in easy affection, in driving, urgent passion.
Never again.
She clamped her lips shut against a sob, but she couldn’t look away from him. “His hands,” she said. “He dug into my neck, but—no talons.”
“Let me see.” Lorelei brushed Val’s hair aside. “You have four red marks. He broke the skin, but they’re long and narrow, not punctures. Not talons.”
Val froze. “If he didn’t go all the way, if he could’ve—we could’ve—maybe—”
“No,” Stefan said flatly. “If the vaccine didn’t work, we had nothing else to try.”
So she’d thought, but—
“I’m the expert here,” Stefan said. “Believe me.”
Val scrubbed at stinging tears. Wiping her own cheeks, Lorelei hugged her.
Javier brought the basin of water. He turned away quickly but not before Val saw tear tracks on his cheeks.
Stefan thanked him. Stone-faced, with loss naked in their eyes, Stefan and Will set about cleaning up the residue of death.
“We’ll tell everyone how he fought for our kind,” Will said. “It’s past time they knew and appreciated it.”
Val said nothing. Gratitude was fine. But vengeance was better.
Medical personnel from the Collegium evacuated the ghouls’ other captives. They would have their wounds tended and be sent home, with memory blanks when necessary. Seventeen had been freed, quite a coup, but Val paid little attention.
About three a.m., Chuck and Javier settled the stretcher bearing Griffin’s body on a rack near the chopper’s rear hatch. Val curled up on the floor next to him. Soon she would have to give him up, consign him to the flames, as he’d wanted, and be without him forever. But she would take this one last ride holding his hand.
She reached under the blanket for it. Those strong, lean fingers were so cold. So limp. The change crushed her heart.
He wasn’t turning green, which was a comfort. Stefan had said that could be because Griff wasn’t born a ghoul.
“Mind if I sit with you?” Stefan’s glance held pained comprehension.
When she held out her other hand to him, he settled on the floor beside her. He put his arm around her, and they leaned back against the equipment locker together.
“I also made him a promise.” He raised his voice as the engines started. “An easier one than he asked of you. I promised him, if anything happened to him, I’d be here for you. Whatever you need, Valeria, you can come to me.”
“You’re doing it now.” He was one of the few people whose presence wouldn’t feel like an intrusion. The chopper lifted with a familiar lurch. Next stop, Wayfarer, Georgia, and the people who had given Griffin a home.
Val leaned back against Stefan’s shoulder. She would have to tell Griffin’s family. Miss Hettie. Marc. He would do the eulogy. Danny and Missy at the bakery could make the food.
Crystals and candles would come from Sally’s and Lorelei’s. Everyone who’d become part of Griffin’s life would have some role in this, if they wanted it. Funerals, after all, were for the living.
Shielded from view by Stefan, she lifted Griffin’s hand to her cheek and blinked back tears. She would do this for him, see it through, see that Gene was held accountable. Then she could fall apart.
“You know,” Stefan said, “this team of fourteen took out a pretty big nest. Will says thirty-two ghouls live there. We’ve sent bigger groups against smaller nests and failed.”
He was offering her a distraction, and she needed one from the boulder of grief that’d settled into her chest.
“We succeeded,” she said, “because we weren’t betrayed this time.” Nodding at the flash of ange
r in his eyes, she continued, “I wonder why. Did the disinformation Will circulated about our destination protect us, or did the traitor decide not to risk drawing more attention to this nest?”
“Javier can dig into the computer records we seized, see what they tell us. He’s an experienced hacker.”
Suddenly, she felt a tiny twitch and froze. No. Not possible. Get a grip, Val. She kissed Griffin’s cool palm.
His fingers curled around her chin.
Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her chest.
Stefan leaned closer. “All right?” he asked softly.
Caught between hope and fear—was Griffin’s hand warmer or just feeling that way because she’d held it?—knowing she was being pathetic, she choked out, “I…it…he moved.”
The kindness in Stefan’s eyes stung. “Probably just a shift in the helo we didn’t feel. Shall I check him, though, just to be sure?”
Griffin’s fingers shifted again, a hint of movement, not even really a twitch. Stefan’s right, probably just the helo.
Mute, Val nodded. If Griffin had somehow revived, what would he be? She wanted him back, wanted him desperately, but not if he— Oh, please, not that.
Stefan reached for Griffin’s wrist. His fingers found the pulse point, and his eyes lost focus, as though he were counting.
Only a few seconds ticked by, but every one of them drew the knot in Val’s gut tighter.
Stefan turned to her with a kind smile. As his lips parted, he stiffened. His gaze shot toward the blanket over Griffin’s face.
He eased around Val as she fought rising hope. If Griffin wasn’t himself, if he revived as a ghoul, she couldn’t bear it.
“You won’t have to, no matter what,” Stefan said gently, folding back the blanket, and she realized she’d spoken.
He lifted one of Griffin’s eyelids, then the other. Holding the second one up, he drew a penlight from his pocket. He clicked it on and aimed it at Griffin’s eye, and Val held her breath.
Stefan checked the other eye before he beckoned to her.
Afraid to risk the heartbreak of not seeing a change, she made herself rise on her knees beside him and look at Griffin’s face. The whites of his eyes were just that, white, not muddy beige, around that deep, vivid blue. Stefan clicked the light on, and the pupil contracted.
Renegade Page 26
