The vampire finally took a step, which was actually more like a glide, as if it wore skates beneath the rags covering its body.
That was creepy.
“You don’t belong here,” Cara said.
Rafe heard the warning in her tone. Her voice was like steel.
“What do you want?” she asked the creature.
Rafe clenched his fists when it replied in a hollow voice that sounded like it had originated in an echo chamber.
“Information.”
“We are not friends or allies,” Cara said.
“Yet we are sometimes like cousins, are we not?” the vampire returned, showing more wit than Rafe would have imagined possible given the bastard’s tattered state.
“Not even close,” Cara said.
The vampire pointed a bony finger at her. Rafe leaned forward ready to act. “The dark is strong in you, wolf girl,” the vampire remarked.
Rafe wondered if Cara wore her darkness like a special perfume only other hybrids could smell. Vampires, it seemed to him, were another kind of hybrid. They weren’t completely one thing or another—not completely dead, or they couldn’t be walking around, and not fully alive, either—which made them creatures able to somehow bridge the gap between life and death.
Did they like being in limbo and feasting on the life force of others? This wasn’t the time or place to ask that question. Rafe avoided looking at Cara to see how she had reacted to the vampire’s remark. It would have been suicidal to shift his attention from the creature in front of them after seeing how fast his fanged date had moved.
“What do you want?” Cara asked again.
“Life,” the vamp replied.
“Then you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said.
The creature dropped its hand. “And yet you have so much of it. So much life. Surely you can spare some of it for a cousin in need.”
“You can’t bite me,” Cara said. “I think you already know that.”
Rafe resisted the urge to glance sideways at her. This was news to him. If vampires couldn’t bite Cara, how in hell did they assume they’d be able to get at what her body kept hidden inside?
“She is mine to carry,” Cara said.
“Perhaps she would like true darkness for a change,” the vamp suggested. “Could it be that you have carried this burden long enough? Perhaps the spirit longs for freedom after all this time.”
So that was it. The vampire wanted to become the Banshee’s new host. But according to Cara, that kind of transference couldn’t happen, and she’d never allow it even if it was possible.
“I do not own the spirit,” Cara said. “She is not mine to give away. Nor would I try. My family owes her a debt of honor. The Banshee must remain with us, and it is my place to guard her.”
The vampire’s eyes darkened considerably. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“Why?” Rafe broke in. “Why are you sorry to hear that?”
He didn’t like the way the red-rimmed eyes turned to him.
“I am old. Blood no longer sustains me,” the dark-eyed sucker replied.
Rafe didn’t really want to know what that meant. Chatting with this vampire was disconcerting enough. Finding out that vampires—at least some of them—retained their wits and could speak in proper sentences was worrisome. The questions pummeling him now were crucial ones about what this bloodsucker would do next. Would Cara, who hated the breed that had sent her father into exile and plagued her current existence, let this one go?
There were rustling sounds from the west that brought Rafe a wary moment of relief. A new scent filled the air. Weres were coming. They would see this creature, and if the vampire valued what was left of its pitiful existence, it would have to flee.
He watched the vampire turn to look in the direction of the noise. In the moonlight, Rafe caught the gleam of exposed fangs between Cara’s full lips. If the vamp stayed, Cara’s fangs would also stay, and the Weres searching the park would see them. But the dilemma of outing Cara seemed trivial against the prospect of his friends in a face-off with an ancient bloodsucker that looked like death itself.
As the sounds got closer, Rafe’s tension escalated to a higher pulse-pounding frequency. What would happen? Would this creature do something to save itself?
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. The bony parasite nodded to Cara as if acknowledging defeat, then spun around with almost subliminal speed...and vanished.
Rafe kept his focus on the spot where it had stood, not at all sure why the fanged creep had retreated so easily without a fight. Cara seemed to know the answer, but she didn’t offer an explanation.
She shook her head hard, as if she could rid herself of the fangs that way. Whereas she hadn’t given any hint of concern over meeting the vampire, she now buzzed with nervousness over the possibility of meeting the approaching Weres.
To vampires she was no freak, only an adversary.
Right at that moment, Rafe wasn’t so sure about her ability to fit in with the pack, either. The fangs had not retracted, and he hurt for her. With her. The fierceness of his need to protect Cara kicked in so swiftly, he had little time to think about anything else.
The others were almost here, and each passing second made Cara more anxious. She was as white as a sheet.
“It will be okay,” Rafe said, moving closer to her. “Touch me, Cara. Let me hold you.”
There were other things he didn’t say. Couldn’t confess.
“Touch me.” Not for the sake of the lust I feel, or my need to possess you, body and soul... “Touching me will bring out your wolf.”
She let him slip his right arm around her and met his eyes when he demanded it. And as easily as that, with no more words spoken, and as his eyes bored into hers, her razor-sharp incisors disappeared and a hint of color crept back into her cheeks.
* * *
Cara tasted blood, and it was her own. She had bitten down hard on her lower lip when Rafe touched her, mindful of what he was doing, and why. But she had also heard the thoughts that had preceded his willingness to help her—thoughts about lust and possession that again ignited sparks of desire deep inside her.
If they had been alone...
If no one had been coming...
She would have acted on those desires.
They way Rafe made her feel was exciting. She was comforted by the knowledge that though he saw what she was capable of, the son of Miami’s alpha wanted her anyway. They were connected by a thread that had stretched tightly between souls. She had no further doubts about this connection or what it might mean, and the remark Rafe had made the night before reappeared in her mind now like a haunting refrain.
Maybe the true test of your presence here is to see if I’d be the one to bite.
Was there a possibility that her parents had sent her to Miami to meet her mate and Rafe had been part of the plan all along?
Who would dare to concoct such a bond when she didn’t resemble the rest of the Weres and would never fit in? What kind of parents did Rafe have if they had agreed to such a thing?
She was missing something. They all were. But she couldn’t afford to be any more distracted than she already was. The vampire they had faced wasn’t alone. Very old bloodsuckers seldom traveled solo, and this vamp had likely walked the earth for centuries. Older even than the term ancient, it had confessed to be nearing a state of nonexistence. Maybe there had been no fight left in it, no real strength, other than a short list of last needs.
“There are more of them,” she said to Rafe. “We have to prepare.”
Rafe frowned. “More vampires?”
“That one was a master. A leader, and the head of a nest. Others fight for him and do his bidding. The loss of control over his body means nothing when he commands his own fanged army.”
“When he snaps his fingers
, how many will come?”
“I’m not certain,” she confessed.
“Does that bastard believe it can take the spirit from you by force if you refuse to relinquish it?”
Cara shook her head. “It will try to kill everyone and everything around me so that I might change my mind about giving up the Banshee.”
“It will go after those it perceives to be the weakest first?” Rafe mused.
She closed her eyes. “Yes. Then they will go after the pack the way they went after my father, hoping to eliminate werewolves one by one.”
Rafe ran a hand over his eyes as if that could erase the image of the fanged monster they’d just encountered. “Run away,” he said to Cara. “Get behind the wall. We can handle this.”
She shook her head stubbornly.
“Why did you let this vampire go if it was so dangerous?”
“I let it go because...” Her reply faded as Cara sensed Were presence that was so strong and vibrant, it undermined what she had been about to say. Along with that vibration came a faint sense of familiarity.
She turned, and Rafe turned with her. The three Weres who appeared didn’t reek of the kind of power she had detected in the periphery. They didn’t cause the air to change or the night to shiver the way the other more elusive presence had.
Again, she heard her name whispered and looked to Rafe, whose lips didn’t move. She tuned in to Rafe’s thoughts and found them directed to his packmates and the need to catch the vampire.
There was no time to tell him that she had let the vampire go because she was beginning to see a pattern in the things taking place, and that this vampire might yet have a part to play in her future. As sickening as that thought was, it had taken root.
“Vampire,” Rafe said when Cameron and two other Weres Cara hadn’t yet met drew up beside them. “And it has friends.”
All eyes landed on her before drifting off to check out the surrounding area. Cara had no idea if any of these Weres had ever seen or even believed in the fanged hordes that existed in their city. For them, this was going to be a wake-up call.
“Five,” she said, inhaling deeply, sure now about the tally. “There are five of them, moving like a bad wind.”
Chapter 23
Rafe watched Cara’s eyes glaze over as she stared into the distance. She seemed to have retreated into a space only she could access, where sight and scent and hearing provided her with foreknowledge of what might appear in the next few minutes.
There was no time to waste. Nor was there a need to guess what these creatures wanted, since the pasty-faced master of this little oncoming group had been quite clear about that.
The ancient bloodsucker wanted to get its talons on the dark spirit Cara harbored, believing the spirit could prolong its existence, such as that existence was. If blood no longer bolstered it, surely a Banshee could. And if a vampire played host to such a powerful darkness, there was no way to calculate the kind of damage it could inflict.
It was imperative that the sucker never got close to Cara again.
“Cara, go,” he said. “You’ve done your share of fighting here.”
She ignored him, just as Rafe feared she might. This was what Cara did, what she had been bred for. Fighting was the price she paid for being born a Kirk-Killion.
“Rafe,” Cameron called from beyond the closest trees. “Are you coming?”
This time, he and Cara would fight together. Beside him, she was gathering herself and her energy. If anyone looked more closely, they might have seen the glow of all her talents coming together for a singular purpose.
God...he wanted her. Badly.
One look passed between them before they both took steps toward the oncoming red tide...and it was the only look that could have counted.
* * *
The night stank of death and bad intentions. Cara wasn’t the only one who noticed. Rafe and Cameron had been joined by the two other Weres she had seen before while behind the Landau walls. Theirs was a formidable group, but only she could change shape tonight to call up more strength and power.
Against five wolfed-up werewolves, five vampire fledglings wouldn’t have stood a chance. But werewolves in human shape, though fast and dexterous, didn’t have same kind of speed these bloodsuckers had. Cara wasn’t sure what was going to happen. She silently promised these Weres that she would fight for them with every last ounce of her strength.
The first wave of attack brought three fanged creatures. One after the other, the emaciated, white-faced, skeletal apparitions appeared. Silent. Ghastly. Deadly.
Cameron hit the first one head-on. Rafe leaped toward the second. She took the third, backed by the two large Were guards who’d probably also been instructed to keep her safe, when it was actually going to be the other way around.
Sounds of their struggles echoed in the dark. If these vampires assumed darkness was on their side, they had another think coming. Werewolf sight was as legendary as the stories about the moon that ruled their changes, and each Were here carried a weapon—a bone-handled, silver-bladed knife that could stop a vampire if placed correctly, though the best way to seal a vampire’s fate for good was to sever its head from its body.
She had something better, something besides the fangs and the claws that had appeared simultaneously to combine two very different parts of herself. She had an intimate knowledge of vampire behavior that was a fast pass into their messy, often jumbled thoughts. Cara used that now.
“Two more are coming,” she shouted to the others.
The push was on to make sure these three were out of commission by the time the next two arrived. The Landau Weres were fighting fiercely, bravely, honorably. She pressed past Rafe and turned to stand back to back with him. The fanged invader Rafe was fighting was large but might not have had as much at stake in the fight as these Weres did. She prayed this would give the werewolves an edge.
“Throat,” she shouted to Rafe, who swore vehemently as he repeatedly blocked the vampire’s almost subliminally quick fang strikes. “Or heart.”
“I thought these suckers were heartless,” he tossed back with a grunt as his vampire opponent’s fangs got a little too close to Rafe’s face.
“Their bodies don’t know that. You have to make them see it.”
Cara slashed at her attacker and caught hold of it with her claws. She felt its hunger and its need to follow a directive. That, too, was necessary information. These beasts were here because their master demanded it. They would never have attacked a group of Weres otherwise.
The other approaching vamps hadn’t yet joined in. They were now waiting on the sidelines for the Weres to weaken with fatigue. Through the sounds of fighting, Cara heard their jaws snapping.
Rafe’s Weres fought to the best of their abilities and were still standing, but no one had turned the tide or gained the advantage after several long minutes. These vamps had speed and the Weres had strength, but how long would that strength last?
Something had to be done, and she had to do it. The solution might shock Rafe and the others, and yet there was only one way open to her for getting rid of these emaciated parasites.
She called on her wolf, demanding that it listen to her and take shape in spite of the fangs in her mouth. Since she still had claws, part of her wolf was already in evidence. All that was needed was for her to tip the balance.
She had done this before to avoid the wail of the Banshee, and now she demanded the extra burst of power her wolf would provide. There was a chance the dark spirit would feel the extremes of this shift and use the energy for her own benefit, so caution was needed to avoid the death caller.
Shifting was always dangerous for that reason, and she had undergone too many shape-shifts in the past two days. Still, she had to try.
Wolf...
Come.
Now!
The wolf particles in her bloodstream responded to her command with a flare of molten heat that seared her veins. An image of the shape she needed to find flashed in Cara’s mind. Not the animal with four legs this time, but another one that shocked her system with a combined jolt of power and pain that was like being pinned by a silver dart.
The sound of her bones cracking made Rafe turn his head. The shudders of her muscles reshaping brought a slow hiss from her throat. Cara swayed and shook off a brief round of dizziness, but stood her ground. She clamped her teeth together as her heart rate accelerated and the werewolf, half human, half wolf, hot-blooded and feral, soared into existence.
One more strike with her powerful claws was all it took for her to dust the vampire beside her. Rafe, still slashing at his nemesis, shoved his vampire away to look at her.
Maybe it was his expression, or the way he blinked back his surprise, that sent her shape-shift spiraling into another direction than the one she had intended. And maybe it was the way his vampire attacker’s red-lined black eyes caught hers that caused the rift between her intended shift and what actually took place.
Her wolf sucked back into itself with a reversal that was so swift and unexpected, Cara’s lungs were squeezed. More dizziness hit with a whirl of vertigo that nearly sent her to her knees as the wolf she had called upon suddenly devolved, leaving the space it was supposed to have occupied open for another shape.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
* * *
Shock had no place on a battlefield, so Rafe had to swallow his. But his skin chilled so fast, his teeth began to chatter as the temperature around him dropped considerably. The speed of these vampires trumped anything he had ever seen.
A chill wind assailed him from behind. His shirt, damp with the sweat of his exertion, turned to ice. He couldn’t turn to find the source of this latest phenomenon, didn’t dare, although he figured it was related to Cara, and that he wasn’t going to like it.
Even the vampires recognized the change in the atmosphere. Their efforts slowed. They stopped moving as the icy wind blew through the area like the touchdown of a tornado.
The Black Wolf Page 16
