by Bonnie Vanak
“Maureen has graciously volunteered to investigate your mind. She’s now Taenia solium. The pork tapeworm. Usually the parasite is ingested and then develops into a worm that moves into the bloodstream and then the brain. It’s nasty and causes seizures. In your case, I thought we’d expedite the process.”
Urien’s nasal voice became a buzzing in Raphael’s ears. The male leaned over and put his index finger on the fresh scalp wound. Raphael bit back a moan as he felt the worm inch into the wound and enter his blood.
“The worm is usually harmless to the brain until it dies. Not this time. I need to find out what’s happening inside that mind of yours, Kallan. I will find out.”
The silver net lifted off his body. Dimly he saw the others shift back, saw the soles of their feet scuffle away. He tried to summon the energy to sit, not lie on the dirty floor like a kicked dog. Raphael pushed himself upright, the silver chains rattling.
Pain speared his head as if someone hammered into his skull with a sharp chisel. Moaning, he collapsed onto the ground again. Had to overcome it…he could do this. With the last ounce of his discipline and strength, he willed himself to ignore the pain. He sat in a cross-legged position and placed his hand on his knees to center himself.
Breathe in. Breathe out. He began to concentrate, the meditation soothing his mind.
More pain followed, then his entire body convulsed. He went into spasms, his body jerking.
Memories flashed by. Oh, dead goddess, that thing in his mind, that thing that once had been Emily’s beloved cousin Mo, was piercing his temporal lobe, burrowing into the cortex that held the hippocampus. Invading his memories, making him relive. No, no!
He held his head, trying to fight the parasite, but the pain trebled as if Mo were cloning herself into hundreds of tiny worms burying into his brain. Tears gushed involuntarily from his eyes as he went into a fetal position. As the memories surged forward, Raphael moaned.
“Good,” Urien said softly.
Raphael was endangered. Emily felt it in her bones, felt it in the spear of pain in her heart. She crept out of the forest, all her previous anger and grief evaporated like summer rain. Inside her head, someone was screaming.
Her mate.
Terror immobilized her. She touched his mind, felt waves of burning pain as if someone had laced her skin with a hot knife. Staggering back, she slumped against a pecan tree for strength.
She had to find and save him.
But how?
Raphael was in the dark place again.
Ten years old, cocky, whistling as he walked through the Vieux Carre. The French Quarter. Purebloods mostly lived here with the human populace. The outcast Cajun Draicon like his family stuck to the bayou. Today he’d ventured into town to buy fruit for his mother. They both adored fresh peaches.
Raphael turned a corner and went into the small store. He filled the wooden basket on his arm with plump, juicy fruit, paid the shopkeeper and left. As he ambled down the street, his mouth watered at the sweet smell. Maybe just one, now.
Halfway down a deserted alley, he stopped and bit into a peach. Juice dribbled down his chin. Moaning at the delicious taste, he took another bite, the scent swimming into his nostrils.
Until another, deadlier scent drifted into his awareness.
The half-eaten peach dropped into the basket as Raphael looked up to see five Draicon ambling toward him. Five mature males, at least ten years past their first change. Purebloods. He could tell from the aura they radiated of power. Their cocky arrogance, matching his own. The same ones he’d run into last week. They would not leave him alone this time.
Scanning the area, he realized it was too late to run. He’d look foolish and cowardly, and he was no coward.
Raphael set the basket down and drew himself up to his full height. He was only ten, but he was tall already, though gangly. His father always teased him about how his change would make him widen as well as lengthen.
“Look what crossed our street. The mongrel from the bayou.”
The tallest pureblood, with hair blond as corn silk, sauntered up to him. He kicked at the basket, spilling the peaches. “You’re lost, Cajun trash. Get out of our territory.”
“Not yours. I don’t smell you, only the stink of garbage.” Raphael wrinkled his nose. “Oh, wait, I’m wrong. It is you.”
Crimson flushed their faces at the insult. The blond looked him over coolly. “I told you last time, if I caught you in town again, you’d pay. You’re not welcome, mongrel. You contaminate our air.”
Raphael snapped him a rude gesture, hiding the hurt deep inside. Why did they always treat him like this, just because his blood was less pure, and he was Cajun? He could be just as good as they were. Equal.
Better, even.
Drawing up his fists, he prepared to fight.
They rushed at him in a pack, their moves swift and coordinated. One kicked at his legs, while another jumped him from the side. He fought his best under the assault of furious blows, but they outnumbered him. Outweighed him.
He fell with a grunt, holding his hands up against his head to ward off the blows. How he wished he could shift! The wolf could hold them at bay. But he was two years away from the change.
The blows ceased. He opened an eye and saw Blondie fish something out of his pocket.
The collar was snapped around his neck. He struggled and fought, but they held him down and attached a length of chain to the dog collar. Tears of pain surged in his eyes as Blondie yanked at the leash.
“Come on, doggie, let’s go for a walk.”
If he acquiesced, they’d never leave him alone. Deep inside, he knew he had to fight, even if it were a losing battle. Raphael jumped to his feet.
“Go to hell,” he snarled, lashing out with his fists.
The punch caught Blondie by surprise, landing on his lip. Blood streamed from the cut. The male wiped his mouth, his eyes narrowing.
“I’ll teach you to behave, mongrel.”
A hiss sounded as the switchblade popped free of its casing. Terror surged through Raphael as he struggled in the arms of the two who held him.
Had they cut him, he could have borne it. Instead, they sawed at his hair, his pride. Until nothing was left but tufts. Then they took the basket of peaches he’d loved and cut them open, squishing them over the lacerations and bruises. Fresh cuts stung from the juice. The tangy scent of peaches mingled with the smell of his own blood.
Blondie kicked him in the groin, sending him crashing in agony to the pavement. They tied a rope around his midsection and tugged at it.
“Now we can go for a walk. Now, mongrel,” the pureblood said with satisfaction.
As they dragged him down the street, whistling to him with mocking laughter, his body battered, bleeding and bruised, he curled into a ball and cried. He did not want to cry. He wanted to be strong, like his brothers, like his father. But he could only weep and let the rough pavement scrape his exposed arms raw as they paraded him through the Vieux Carre, like the mongrel dog he was….
Raphael opened his eyes and suppressed a moan. He could not let the Burke pack see his disgrace. With everything he had, he fought the memories. Sharp pain lanced his head. He bit his lip, tried to ward it off. Could not.
Laughter rose around him like smoke ascending to the heavens. He felt something large and itchy crawl along his cerebrum, invade his blood and exit through the wound on his scalp. Wiping the blood from his eyes, he looked up to see Maureen shift back into human form. She threw out her arms and chortled.
“I’ve seen what he hides, Urien. I know what he hides. My clones are still inside him and can torment him if you wish.”
“I wish,” Urien said softly. “But for now, I am hungry again. Aren’t you, kin?”
He could not even summon the strength to groan as they shifted into vampire bats and flew at him again to feast.
Chapter 13
R aphael was hurting, and the pain he felt was screaming at her. She’d sensed he’d
shielded her from it, but now he was too overcome to keep it barricaded. Emily bent over as a seizure grabbed her body. Pain burned her from inside out.
Fresh horror filled her as she entered his mind. The low moan spilling from her was a cry from her spirit. She hadn’t believed him, trusted him, and now Raphael paid the ultimate price. Her pack was feeding off him. It had been a trap all along.
She stood upright, warding off panic, thinking fast. All her senses reached out to him, to find him. Aid him. Her nostrils flared as she picked up a faint scent.
Emily raced through the woods, her heart pounding hard. How she wished she were a warrior, a strong male who could overcome them. She was nothing but a meek, gentle Draicon. A misfit among their people, a female who refused to shift because she was too afraid to kill.
Realization forced her to grind to a halt. She had no weapons at her disposal.
Her wolf did.
Emily fisted her hands. Did she even remember how to shift?
And what then? Her pack was strong and could easily subdue her if she rushed at them as wolf. She knew nothing of sneak attacks, how to battle a force far greater than herself.
I’m a lone wolf. The thought coaxed a grim smile to her mouth.
So was Raphael. But he was a warrior, one who had fought and killed many Morphs.
Sucking in a breath, Emily slid gracefully down to the ground and sat. She closed her eyes and reached out, touching his mind.
Screaming pain invaded her senses. It felt like waves of burning, searing heat. Emily gasped, but kept going. She entered his mind, barreling past the flashes of agony, seeking out his memories.
Buried deep in his cerebrum, she saw hundreds of tiny worms feasting on his brain cells. Feeding his memories. Anger welled inside her, cresting to a flood. She sought her inner self, thought of pure, undiluted energy and directed pulses of white light at the creatures.
They burst like soap bubbles beneath the force of her thoughts. She sent soothing light to replace the worms, crooning words to ease the torment Raphael had suffered. But the emotional damage had been done.
Later, she’d address it. For now, she must find his knowledge.
She traveled swiftly through her mate’s memories, pulling free past battles, attacks with his brothers on Morphs and solo ventures alone against the enemy. But it wasn’t until she touched an alien part of him that curiosity flared.
Knowledge of battle plans, culled from things called electronic games he played with his brother Gabriel. Emily turned the memories over, absorbing them. A smile touched her lips. When she finally fled his mind, sweat dripped down her temples.
Determination filled her.
Tugging off her dress, she closed her eyes, reaching out to her own memories. Touching upon happier times with her father, when she ran wild and free beneath the silvery moonlight. When fur had covered her body and joy filled her heart and wolf was not a beast to maim and kill but a creature of the earth she adored.
Emotions warred with each other. Fear wrestled with resolve. Grief battled with her feelings for Raphael. I can do this. I will change. I remember.
Bones lengthened. Muscles shifted. It had been too long since the change, and pain grabbed her with meaty fists as her body contorted and her face became a muzzle. With all her might, she fought past the pain to reach for the wolf inside her.
Emily opened her mouth. A long howl rippled out of her throat.
She opened her eyes, her vision sharpening. Wind ruffled her fur, and scents and sounds teased her senses.
The best means for a lone wolf to defeat the enemy was stealth. Cunning. Hiding in places the enemy could not see. Blend into her surroundings so they thought she was like the wind. Like an assassin in the dark night, creeping into the enemy’s stronghold to slay them in their sleep.
Her pack would pay for hurting her beloved draicaron.
She ran toward the abandoned farmhouse.
Raphael was lost in a black maze. It felt like white-hot fangs constantly scraped open his wounds. The agony in his head was worse. He slumped over, dimly smelling the stench of his own vomit and old blood. A hank of dark hair, crusted with blood, hung over his forehead. Tossed carelessly to the side was the sheath containing the Scian. The Burkes had not wanted to touch it—they seemed afraid of the sacred weapon.
They were not as fearful of using and torturing him. He could only breathe and dully endure.
Another seizure hit, and he moaned as his body contorted from the worms infecting his brain, eating and releasing his memories. His body slammed hard against the concrete floor and rose up again.
The torment continued until suddenly he felt a gentle presence. He hissed out a breath, tried to warn Emily to stay out, to protect herself. He could protect her no longer.
And then, like a cloth wiping away a dark stain, the spasms ceased and the pain in his head stopped. He felt the worms vanish, replaced with white, pure light. Emily. She touched his memories. Ashamed, he pulled the darkest and grimmest away from her.
Instead, she fled to his other memories, searching them like a shopper picking up items and replacing them. He did not question. He remained huddled in the comfort of darkness.
Many minutes later, or perhaps it was hours, Raphael heard a noise. He forced his eyes, crusted with blood, to open. The basement window, cracked and grimy, edged open. Something dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
He sensed a presence of light, yet the stench accompanying it was Morph. It made no sense. Still, hope hammered faintly inside his heart.
Raphael remained motionless and watched.
A wolf, its coat grimy with dirt and decaying leaves, approached noiselessly. It loped over to him and whined as it licked his face. Then the wolf stepped back and began to change.
Shocked awe spilled through him as the muddy wolf shifted, transforming into a petite woman with flaming red hair, shining like the sun. His eyes watered from the brilliance of her, the purity shining in her green eyes. Her beautiful pale skin was smeared with dirt, her eyes shining with moisture. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she studied him. “Oh, my brave Raphael, what have they done to you?”
He wanted to hope, wanted to believe his beautiful Emily was here. It was a mirage, a vision born from desperation. His head lolled forward again, but he dared to peek upward.
Emily scrubbed her face with one glove. She fell to her knees gracefully. “I came to save you. Tell me now what I must do. Are the chains silver?”
Raphael tried to struggle to his feet but could not. He lay on the floor, watching her through a fog of agony. “Silver. Use…gloves. Key…far wall,” he rasped.
Chains clinked together as Emily unlocked them from the ring attached to the wall, then unlocked the manacles about his wrists and ankles, using her dress to touch the silver. Raphael winced as he rubbed the raw, bleeding wounds from the bindings. He tried to stand but collapsed again.
Reaching out with his senses, he felt the enemy was not far now. They were returning again to feed on his blood. Resignation filled him. He had no strength even to stand. Emily came first.
“Just leave me. Save yourself,” he whispered. “It’s too late.”
Instead, she reached for the Scian. Emily swallowed and drew the dagger across the inside flesh of her arm. Blood welled up.
With her left hand, she tipped his head back, forced his lips open. Raphael felt the blood drop onto his tongue. She closed his mouth.
“Swallow,” she ordered in an authoritative voice he’d never heard her use.
He did. Strength flooded him as he felt wounds close, the blood racing through his veins, cleansing him, renewing his life. Deep inside, he knew something else important was at hand, but he could not concentrate. He closed his eyes and let Emily’s healing magick restore what had been lost. Physical strength surged inside him, but the darkness remained, gray shadows hovering in the background.
Raphael ignored the emotional darkness, concentrating on flexing his unused muscles. He carefu
lly stood. Not exactly überwolf, he thought humorlessly, but this will do.
Mindful of the grime and blood still covering him, he turned to his draicara. Raphael longed to touch her, feel her softness against him, but he didn’t want to darken the shining purity of her. “Thank you.”
She tilted her head up to regard him, her eyes luminous in the faint light. “Did you think I would run away from you again? When you needed me most? I needed to face facts, and because of you, I had the strength to do it.”
He marveled at her inner resolve, displayed in a stubborn tilt to her chin he’d seen from his first glimpse of her. There was something very special about Emily. Emotion made his hands tremble like a elder’s. To disguise it, he pretended to sniff her and managed a faint grin.
“You stink,” he murmured.
Her petite nose wrinkled. “I should, it’s Urien’s scent. I cloaked myself in his scent and then coated my fur with mud so the pack couldn’t differentiate.” Her lower lip trembled. “I got the idea from your memories of electronic games you’ve played, to disguise yourself among the crowd. I couldn’t bear the thought of you alone here, what they did to you….”
“Em, it’s all right now,” he told her softly.
Warmth encased him as Emily hugged him gently. He relished the softness of her sturdy body, the silk of her hair spilling over his arm even as he shrank from it. He was contaminated. Dirty. Didn’t want his darkness touching her. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
“Let’s get out of here.” His voice was stronger even to his own ears.
The beaming grin she gave him melted the ice inside him a little. “I think we both could use a long, hot bath.”
Senses restored by her blood surged to full awareness. He whipped his head around, scenting the enemy even before the basement door opened. Raphael gave Emily a gentle push toward the space beneath the stairs. “Shift again and hide,” he ordered.
He retreated to the hateful little corner and crouched down, pretending helplessness.
