by M. J. Scott
“Promise me.”
I had to do what she said. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” This time her voice sounded happy.
I was frozen. Numb. I had no idea what to say to her. How to convince her she was wrong. To show her she was loved. Or rather, I had a thousand words but my tongue was as frozen as the rest of me, stilled by Rhi’s will. The blue dissipated like fog but the constraint and the cold remained. I opened my eyes.
Cilla was hovering next to us. “Did it work? Did it work?”
I shook my head, still trying to shake off the feeling of icy command from Rhi, to speak, to reach her. But I couldn’t. “Ask Rhianna.”
Rhi’s eyes were closed. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully.
But when her eyes opened I knew she wasn’t at peace. She looked sad. Beyond sad.
“Did you get it?” Cilla asked.
Slowly, Rhi nodded. “I think so. There’s lots of numbers and words I don’t understand.”
Was she telling the truth? Had she actually found something in my head? Something that might help us figure out how Smith had done what he’d done?
Cilla grinned, then pulled the gun out of her belt. She aimed it at me yet again. The urge to run exploded through me but something held me in place. “Then we don’t need her anymore, do we?”
Rhi’s face went white. “What do you mean? How do you know I got everything?”
“I’ll take the risk,” Cilla said. Her finger started to tighten on the trigger and I tensed. Now or never. A silver bullet—and I didn’t doubt that the gun was loaded with
silver—at such close range would kill me if she hit my head or heart.
“No!” Rhianna screamed and lashed out at Cilla, knocking the gun from her hand. It flew across the room landing God-knows-where. I lurched sideways, free to move but unable to think what to do next.
Cilla wasn’t so slow. The knife slid free of the scabbard with a hiss and she whirled on Rhi. “What are you doing?”
Rhi backed up but only a little. “Stopping you,” she spat.
Cilla’s shriek of rage almost deafened me. She lunged with the knife, aiming for Rhi’s heart. Rhi’s hand shot out, grasping Cilla’s wrist, stopping the blade’s plunge. The two vamps stood locked, muscles straining against each other. Evenly matched despite the differences in size. I hesitated, unsure how to help without risking Rhi.
“Ash, the window,” Rhi cried.
“What?” Cilla and I spoke together.
“The shutters.”
Cilla gasped. I surged to my feet, fighting the compulsion to do as Rhi said. “No!”
Rhi’s voice sounded in my head. “Ash, this is my choice. And your chance. You know what you have to do.”
I shook my head frantically. “I won’t, I won’t.”
Cilla started to laugh and, as I watched, the blade descended a fraction closer to Rhi’s throat. Rhi was weakening. If she lost, Cilla would kill us both, if I didn’t kill her first.
“Never put your faith in a dog, Rhianna,” Cilla said mockingly. “They always bite the hand that feeds them.”
I twisted my head looking for the gun. But I couldn’t see it. It must’ve slid under one of the cabinets lining the far wall.
I turned back to Rhi and made the mistake of looking into her eyes.
Blue ice blew through me like a blizzard and wrapped steel fingers into my mind. “Open the shutters,” Rhi’s voice roared. “Do it now.”
I fought her, I tried. Tried to summon the wolf and the moonlight to cut off her terrible command. It didn’t work. Even as I screamed in my head for her to let me go, my body moved to obey, heading for the window. “Rhi, no,” I begged. “Don’t make me do this.”
Her grip didn’t falter and her mental voice was calm. “It’s either you or the sunrise, Ash. I’d rather it was you. If you love me, you’ll do this.”
Tears rolled down my face, half blinding me. My arms reached for the shutter release as I heard Rhi scream behind me and motion blurred in my peripheral vision.
“NOW, Ash!” Rhi screamed and I watched myself in horror as I pulled the release and flooded the room with sunlight.
Cilla wailed behind me as I fell to my knees by the window. Rhi’s voice said “Goodbye, Ash,” in my head as her hold on my mind released. I felt a blaze of heat like something had exploded and pushed myself to my feet, twisting to face the vampires. Maybe, if I could just shield Rhi, somehow—
But even as I turned, I saw the flames engulf them, saw Rhi’s face smile then twist in agony. Then the fire went white-hot and there was a whomping noise as all the air was sucked out of my lungs. I flew backward and hit the wall with a crash of plaster.
Then all at once the flames vanished and there was nothing but fine gray dust raining around me as I lay there, sobbing like a baby.
* * *
Gray ash coated everything. It covered my skin, filled my nose and mixed to sludge on my cheeks where my tears mingled with my friend. I lay there and let it fall, unable to move as it floated down on me.
An alarm started to sound in the distance and suddenly water poured from the sprinklers in the ceiling.
I let it soak me. Unwilling to move or think or react.
Rhianna was dead.
And I had killed her.
My eyes burned as tears flowed without stopping. Rhi was dead. Another loss.
I didn’t want to get up. Was half-willing to let Smith come back and do his worst but somewhere—after minutes or hours, I couldn’t tell—my survival instinct kicked back in.
“Move,” I told myself. “Don’t think, just move.”
Smith would be back. If they hadn’t seen the flames or heard the alarm then they’d be back after however much time they’d agreed with Cilla.
I pushed to my feet, feeling a thousand years old. I skirted the charred patch of floor in the middle of the room, the twisted metal that was all that remained of the two chairs and ran for the door.
Locked.
And, I remembered suddenly, Cilla had had the keycard. The plastic keycard that no doubt had been vaporized when the two vampires burned. I was trapped.
Fuck and double fuck.
Think.
Okay. Don’t panic. There was a gun here somewhere and a window. I scrabbled around in the wreckage of the room and the gods must’ve decided I deserved a break because my hand closed over the smooth metal of the gun.
“Move,” I repeated, and forced myself back to the window. To my surprise, it looked out onto some sort of office park. There didn’t seem to be anyone around but it definitely wasn’t the middle of nowhere.
On the downside, I was on the second floor. And there was no fire escape. I looked down at the pavement, calculated the distance. Survivable for a werewolf.
It was getting through the glass that was going to hurt like a bitch. I just hoped it wasn’t reinforced. It would just be my luck if the people who owned the building were too cheap to pay for UV glass but had sprung for double glazing.
Only one way to find out.
And that way was going to bring some attention to my location even if the fire hadn’t.
I retreated to the far side of the room, aimed the gun and fired three times.
The bullets left three neat holes in the window, surrounded by a spider web of cracks. Not exactly the result I’d hoped for but it should’ve weakened the glass enough that what I was about to do would hurt a lot less. I didn’t want to waste any more bullets.
“Don’t think,” I repeated one last time and then pushed away from the wall, picking up speed as I leaped and hurled myself through the window.
I’d been right.
It hurt like a son of a bitch. Glass sliced into my arms and legs but I barely had time to register the pain before the cement hurtled up to meet me.
My landing knocked the wind out of me and I wasted a minute or so trying to convince my lungs to remember how to breathe and my back that it hadn’t snapped in two.
A
s soon as the air started flowing back into my body I forced myself to change. Wolf then back in rapid succession. I could run faster as the wolf but I couldn’t carry a gun.
Changing helped the pain and stopped the bleeding but left me shaky.
I gritted my teeth and hauled myself up anyway, taking a moment to get my bearings.
The fire alarms still shrieked in the distance. Hopefully that meant there’d be emergency crews on their way. But Smith and his vamps could well beat them back. It was daylight but from the position of the sun, late afternoon. Once darkness hit, any advantage I had over the vamps was lost. I needed to move.
I scented the air, trying to pick a direction. I mostly got a dizzying rush of city air, full of tar and sun and rubbish and the weird air-conditioned smell of office buildings. But to the west, I got just the faintest hint of food. Something was cooking. Cooking meant people.
Who would no doubt be thrilled to be visited by a naked blood and ash-stained woman waving a gun but so be it. I forced myself into a run, feeling like every step was taken over by broken glass and burning metal as my muscles protested the effort.
My lungs were screaming by the time I rounded a corner and saw a burger joint. Thank God for junk food.
I burst into the restaurant, ignoring the startled screams and vaulted over the counter.
“Phone,” I snarled at the pimply clerk staring at me in terror. “Phone,” I repeated as she started to cry but then I heard someone behind me saying, “I have an emergency.” I whirled and saw another clerk with a cell in his hand.
“Is that 911?” I waved the gun at his phone.
He nodded, face pale.
“Good. Give me the phone.”
He held it out without protest and I snatched it. “This is Ashley Keenan. I’m with the FBI.” I babbled out the identification code Dan had drilled into my brain to use if I ever had to call the emergency line as the operator squawked in protest. But her objections turned to professionalism just as quickly. Obviously the code thingy did its job. The next thing I knew, I was speaking to Esme.
“Ashley, thank God. Where are you?”
“I don’t know.” I pointed the gun at the clerk. “Where are we, kid?”
“M-m-m, Cedar Park,” he stammered.
Well, what do you know? Seattle. “Thanks. Okay, I’m in a Burger Heaven in Cedar Park. Somewhere near an office park. But listen, I’m not staying here. Smith might be coming back and I’m not risking all these people getting caught in any crossfire. I’ll be heading west. Hurry.”
I handed the cell back to the kid and handed him the gun. “Call the police again. Lock the doors until they get here,” I said. “Don’t let anyone in until they show you a badge. Especially not any men with gray hair and glasses. Possibly driving a black van. Got it?”
He nodded again; staring at the gun like it might just go off in his hand.
“Don’t use that unless you have to,” I said. “Just stay inside. And I’m sorry if I scared you.”
Then I started running again, bursting through the back door. West. I told Esme west. And this time, the wolf was going to be faster and safer. I changed and started running, taking a side street to stay out of view. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck tingling. Somehow I knew Smith wasn’t far away. Even though his vamps were limited by the sunlight, I couldn’t afford to let them catch me.
I bolted a couple more blocks, then slowed, springing over someone’s front fence to get some cover as I got my bearings. I could feel the sun starting to sink, feel the moon growing stronger. God knows what time it really was. Somewhere behind me I heard sirens. Not just fire trucks but police cars.
The sound of safety.
If I could get to them.
Dan would be there. The need to see him suddenly outweighed everything else.
I leaped the fence again then started running back the way I’d come.
I almost made it. I could even see the police cars surrounding the Burger Heaven in the distance. One more block. But as I started to cross the road, I heard a car scream to a halt behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder.
A black van.
Just like the one the vamps had used in Caldwell.
Smith sat in the driver’s seat.
His eyes met mine and I saw the exact moment when he realized the truth. That if I was free, then Cilla was probably dead. His face twisted into a snarl of rage and loss and hate.
The van’s engine revved suddenly and I looked back to the restaurant. Between it and me was a street of small stores and office. All closed. No cover there. No yards to dodge into.
All I could do was run.
I sprang into motion, running for my life. The van’s tires squealed as it came after me.
In the distance I saw a dark-haired man step in front of one of the police cars, saw him turn toward me and freeze.
Dan.
I ran faster, the road stinging my paws with each bound but I could hear the van gaining on me, the roar of its engine drawing closer, the hot stink of gasoline and metal sharper in my nose and mouth as I strained for each breath, each stride. Surely Smith wasn’t crazy enough to drive into a wall of police? It was my only hope for rescue.
Even a werewolf can’t outrun a car.
Or maybe they could.
I was halfway down the block and they hadn’t caught me.
My lungs burned, each breath like acid. I heard Dan yell my name as he raised his gun.
And then a bullet scraped my shoulder from behind. I stumbled and rolled across the road and back to my feet, fire blooming along the bullet’s path, the bite of it nearly as bad as the pain in my lungs. I willed myself into motion, stretching like a leopard, praying for speed, angling down the road headed for Dan.
The sound of the van had faded but the sound of gunfire didn’t.
“Ash, no!” I heard Dan scream even as bullets lit sparks on the road around me.
“Dan,” I thought, just as something tore through my side like a lightning bolt and tumbled me into darkness.
* * *
I woke up in hospital. Dan was holding my hand.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I croaked. Then I didn’t get to say anything else for several minutes. I was too busy having the life kissed out of me.
“Easy,” I joked when he finally let us come up for air. “You’ll give me a relapse.”
He turned pale and I hugged him tighter. “Hey, joking.”
“Don’t joke,” he said hoarsely. “I thought I’d lost you.”
I stroked his face. “Nah. I’m tough.”
His eyes gleamed silver. Damp silver. Shit, I’d made him cry.
“Ash, I’m serious. I can’t keep going through this.”
“Well, you won’t have to. That crazy vamp bitch is dead.” I wasn’t quite ready to explain how.
“We didn’t get Smith,” he said.
I bolted upright. “Excuse me?”
“Everyone was busy with you. He got away.”
I fell back against my pillows. “Shit.” But somehow part of me wasn’t disappointed. Because, this way, I got to hunt the son of a bitch down myself.
“It’s okay. I’ll get him,” Dan said.
I forced myself to sit up a little, wincing as my side stabbed with pain. “What’s this ‘I’ business?”
“It’s my job.”
“I’m on the Taskforce too, you know.”
His face turned grim. “You’re not putting yourself in danger again.”
“Excuse me?” Outrage turned my voice even rougher.
Dan heard it too. But his expression didn’t change. He just nailed me with a ‘don’t push me on this’ look. “I mean it, Ash. You’re staying in the office from now on.”
“Like hell I am. He killed Rhianna.”
“Rhi’s dead?”
I looked down; grief and rage roiling through me like a blow. Rhi. One more loss to chalk up to the vampires and Smith.
One loss too many.
“Yes. And if you think I’m not getting the bastard who caused all this, then you need to think again.”
“I’m the Agent in Charge, I get to say who is on the case.”
“And who says I need the Taskforce?” I flared.
Dan went still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, I’m getting Smith.” I folded my arms and glared at him.
“There are rules, Ashley.”
“Screw the rules. Smith doesn’t play by the rules.”
“You don’t want to be like him.”
I stared at him, not knowing how to make him understand. Not without telling him the truth about Rhianna and the knot of guilt and grief tearing me apart. Not sure, even if I did tell him, that he could understand. Dan saw the world in black and white. Right and wrong.
But I’d learned a lot in the last few months. I didn’t care so much about right and wrong and legalities. I cared about good and bad. About surviving. And there were all sorts of shades of gray involved in that.
And, as I stared into my favorite shade of gray—the silver of Dan’s eyes—I wasn’t sure that he’d be able to forgive me if I learned any more.
I closed my eyes. “I don’t want to fight. I’m tired.” I held out my hand to him. “Just be here when I wake up, okay?”
His fingers curled around mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
They released me from the hospital the next day. I had a new scar on my ribs from Cilla’s silver knife but that was the only visible wound. The invisible wounds were something I didn’t want to talk about.
Though, over the next week, it seemed like I wasn’t getting much of what I wanted. Every man and his dog wanted to debrief me about what had happened. The Taskforce, Dan, the police, other random FBI personnel and even Ani and Sam.
And, even though I was sure there should be something in the relationship rules about nearly getting killed bringing two people closer together, my desire not to fight with Dan wasn’t working either.
He kept trying to wrap me in cotton wool. Hardly let me out of the house. All we did was fight and make-up with frantic sex. But each time, the gap between the fight and the making up part seemed to get bigger.
Just like the gap I felt growing between us.
We fought about the Taskforce.
