by Wolf, Terra
"The comfort of the chair is designed to help enhance the pain that will come. I was treated much the same way," Maria-notMaria said evenly. There was no emotion in her voice, which was something that Natasha found very intriguing. Hoping to get some more information, she tried her hand at it again.
"Why do you have to wait? Are you not good enough? You must have fucked up too many times!" she said, surprising herself with a laugh to emphasize her point.
"I must wait simply because I cannot do it. I am too young; my bite would simply cause your heart to stop beating within seconds."
Natasha's blood ran cold. That was most certainly not the outcome she wanted. Perhaps it was time to rethink her strategy.
"How much longer does it take? You must be at least twenty, twenty-five," she prodded.
Maria laughed a bitter laugh, devoid of all joy and humor. "As it will do you no good, since you will be dead or turned shortly, I will let you in on a secret: I am eighty-four years old."
"Oh."
Smooth. Real smooth. Then again, Natasha wasn't sure how anyone would react to that.
As if to coincide with the soul-crushing knowledge that what she was dealing with was far older and more powerful than she, thunder pealed outside, followed swiftly by the sound of rain as big, thick raindrops began to hammer at the walls, a miniature assault of epic proportions.
At first Maria paid the weather no heed. It wasn't until the howl of a wolf penetrated the rolling thunder that she sat upright.
"Oh, now you're in trouble," she told her captor, her grin turning evil as she realized that somehow, against all the odds, Bryce had found her.
That was the only explanation for the reaction of her "host."With the way she had bodily hauled Natasha around earlier, and managed to force Bryce to kiss her despite his inhuman strength, it was clear that whatever not-Maria was, a single wolf howling at the storm would not produce such a noticeable result.
"It is too soon," came the soft-spoken comment, not directed at her, but audible nonetheless.
"Actually, I think it's a few hours too late."
Deep down though, Natasha was just happy that Bryce had come for her. She wasn't sure how he would react after she had, in hindsight, admittedly stormed off rather hastily. There was too much going on between them. The feelings were too strong, too deeply entrenched, for her to give up that easily. She just hoped that he would give her a second chance, to make things right between them. Part of her felt he would, just because of who he was, but another part of her knew he would be well within his rights to ensure her safety and then cut her loose.
"No," the woman next to her whispered as yet another wolf howl erupted, this time even closer. "I wish they wouldn't make us do this."
Natasha froze, ceasing her attempts to squirm free.
"Us?" she said, very slowly, making sure to completely and properly enunciate the entire two-letter word.
"Yes. Us." The soft alto voice spoke from the doorway behind her.
She flopped around as fast as she could, considering the rope around her legs and hands were keeping her restrained behind her back. Standing there was a tall, skinny male. His gaunt figures were further highlighted by the ultra-pale complexion of his skin and the almost platinum blond coloring of his hair.
"Brother, what should we do?"
"Brother? You two are related? That's unfortunate," she said slowly, her response automatic as she tried to process the fact that the odds had just turned from being considerably in Bryce's favor to unknown. She felt confident that the pack could take down the one woman, though she wasn't sure what having a second would mean.
"Be quiet," the older one said, his dull, emotionless eyes unerringly focused on her as he strode over to stand next to his sister? Peer?
She had no idea if it was the religious slash cultish definition of brother, or a true familial aspect. Regardless, the way he was staring at her made her extremely uncomfortable.
"You know," he said to not-Maria. "I am very close to being able to complete the ritual. Perhaps I should—"
"No. Absolutely not. The Master would end you, and that would be...regrettable. And foolish. If it proves absolutely unlikely that we will succeed, then perhaps. But only perhaps."
Interesting. The male seemed to be older, but the female was in charge. She was sure that bore some sort of further investigation, but time, it would seem, was not inclined to wait. The house was two stories, and the room that she was in was on the second story.
Below her from somewhere on the first floor, there was a smash of glass, followed by the howl of the wind as one of the windows flew inward under the weight of something. A wolf, she hoped. A very large gray wolf, with brilliant silver eyes, if she was asked to be specific.
The male thing—her brain failed to produce a better word—looked back across the door it had come in through. To Natasha's knowledge it was the only door in or out of the room. There were two windows in front of her, and four along the wall opposite the door, suggesting she was in a corner room.
Besides her chair, there was a large rectangular desk around which the two were currently conferring. Bookcases lined the wall to her right, adding a touch of refined mystique to what she had come to think of as her jail cell. There was a large rug beneath her chair, covering much of the hardwood floor, and another under the desk as well. She hadn't seen what was directly behind her, but she figured it to be more of the same.
Plenty of open space for a wolf to maneuver, she thought.
"Stay here. Do what you must if it comes down to it," the woman said abruptly, storming toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Natasha cried, desperate to slow her down, to try and delay her to give the wolves more time to prepare. Her voice was loud and strong, hopefully carrying through the creaky old house and down to the waiting wolves themselves.
"To show our intruders the door, or their grave," she said, flowing forward. As she went, her figure transformed, becoming hidden in shadow and blackness. She became nothing more than an apparition. One that Natasha had seen before.
"It was you!" she screamed. "You bitch! You almost killed Chase!" She began to struggle mightily again in an attempt to free herself.
"You are incorrect," the male said calmly as the sounds of combat erupted from another part of the house. Thuds and screeches were intermingled with yelps and glass smashing.
"What do you mean?" she said, glancing back and forth between the creepy dude and the open door, frantically trying to free herself.
The sounds grew louder.
"You believe she was the one who attacked you earlier," he said with a sigh of impatience. It was the first sign of emotion that she had seen from either of them. That scared her more than anything for some reason.
"Then—" she started to say, but then stopped abruptly. "It was you," she finished.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Why do you look at me like that?" she said through a moment of silence, where the only sounds were the storm outside and the wind rushing through the broken window somewhere outside the room.
"I can see your blood running through your neck. It is...tempting," he said, moving around the desk to come closer to her.
He had gone only a few steps before the tattered remains of his partner stumbled into the room.
Natasha had a second to glimpse at the true extent of the damage. Her left arm was simply gone. Perhaps six inches of flesh and bone hung off her shoulder where it should have been, spewing black blood everywhere. Her face, once that of a pretty, if now lifeless woman, was horribly mangled. One of her eyes had been punctured, and the skin hung in a way that was just...wrong. The rest of her body was covered in huge, ragged gashes and holes where chunks of flesh had been torn away.
"There were too many," she said, before falling limply forward.
The body didn't even have time to reach the ground before a wolf burst through the door, taking her head in its jaws and wrenching it wildly.
But then she was confronted with the vision of the male rushing at her, his mouth wide open. She tried to get her arms up to block, but he moved too quickly, evading her. His teeth gently caressed the skin on her neck before they sunk into her.
The pain was instantaneous. Natasha screamed, the high-pitched wail erupting from her throat as fire burned its way through her arteries at lightspeed. Her body writhed and contorted, trying to cope with the unblockable assault upon her senses. She screamed and screamed, only dimly aware of what was going on around her.
A wolf yelped in pain, followed by a bellow that could only have come from the man who had bit her. Then everything was washed away again in blinding white as the pain renewed its assault. She could physically feel it crawling its way from her neck down into her arms and spreading across her torso. Part of her—the detached, not-so-sane part—wondered idly if there was anything visible that she could see.
The rest of her screamed yet again, her throat beginning to go raw. She thrashed violently against her restraints, but nothing seemed to work, though she did end up twisted with a view of the desk. It was there that she saw the male fighting his last stand, moving faster than she could focus in her state.
She did see a wolf, as black as night, leap at him, only to be caught in mid-air and thrown hard out of one of the windows. Her hand reflexively tried to reach out to help, despite being restrained beneath her, and she went to yell. All that came out was a scream as the burning pushed into her stomach, continuing the slow advance through her entire body.
Through the pain-filled blur, she saw two wolves converge simultaneously on the man from the sides. He tried to spin, but their jaws latched on, dragging him down with them. Another wolf, this one bone-white, leapt at the man, teeth closing around his head. The wolf wrenched its head powerfully to the side, and the room went quiet as a loud snap echoed through the chaos.
It was followed by another scream.
"What's wrong?" Bryce said, his face suddenly appearing in front of hers.
Strong hands began to fiddle with her restraints. With a snarl, Bryce parted the ropes that bound her, scooping her up into his arms. That was when the tears started as she realized that she was safe despite the pain racking her body. Her voice would not come, however, besides letting loose with yet another agonizing scream.
"She has been bitten."
Or maybe she wasn't safe. Thomas's smooth voice carried easily in the chambers, as if they were made for someone with a melodic voice such as his. Unfortunately, it did not bring her any relief.
"Shit, he's right, she has," Bryce exclaimed, noticing for the first time the marks on her neck. "What do we do?"
"I am not sure," Thomas said.
"What the hell do you mean you're 'not sure'?" Bryce snarled, his face still inches from hers. She could feel the hot wash from his breath as he panted from the exertion of the fight. Blood trickled from a dozen or more wounds that she could see in her current state.
"The bite of a shade kills instantly, similar to vampires of fairy tales as they drain their victims dry. This one," he said with a gesture to the corpse behind him, "is not a full vampire. An older shade. I do not understand why his bite has not killed her yet."
Thomas thought about it for a moment longer, during which the burning sensation increased its assault, moving between and down her legs. Natasha cried out again and again, her throat raw and likely bleeding. It didn't give up, and she began to feel feverish as heat washed over her, like a blast furnace opening its doors.
"Think, dammit! She's dying," Bryce yelled, anguish evident in his voice. "You're five fucking thousand years old. You must have come across this before!"
"Perhaps it has something to do with your bond. It could be the strength of mates is all that is keeping her alive."
"You're saying I should bite her myself," Bryce said, his voice calm this time.
"I fail to see how it could hurt. Otherwise, judging by the spread of the venom, she will be dead shortly. So, do it, young wolf."
Natasha could barely make out anything going on anymore. The only thing she was fixated on was the image of Bryce's face, inches from hers. He was trying to tell her something, but his words had become unintelligible and slurred. She tried to tell him she loved him, that whatever happened she was okay with it, and that she would die knowing he loved her.
The last thing she remembered seeing was Bryce mouthing the words "I'm sorry" as massive fangs burst from his mouth.
Pain blossomed on the other side of her neck.
***
Blood. Blood Everywhere. Iron.
Fear. The stink.
Rage. The hatred.
Freedom. Trees. The forest. Run. Fast. Faster.
Darkness. The moon.
Close by. Foe? Friend?
Unknown. Flee.
Attack! Ambush! Fight. Resist.
Overwhelmed.
Chapter Twelve
Bryce
He yanked his fangs from her skin, giving her a quick shake, hoping it would wake her up.
"Natasha, don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare! You aren't allowed to die," he repeated, over and over again. The others were crowded close, except for Thomas. Jake, his hand on Bryce's shoulder, lent his quiet support, as did the others.
"Her heart is still beating," he whispered in a pleading tone, as if voicing the fact would ensure it stayed that way. "It's strong too. Why doesn't she wake up?" he said, looking up at Thomas for help. The old vampire simply stood there, doing and saying nothing.
"Look," Ethan said, pointing at her arm.
The blackness that had spread everywhere except her face was retreating from her hand, up her arm, slowly but surely. Bryce looked and saw the same process happening on her other arm, and her legs.
"Is it working?" he yelped, unsure of what it meant. "Does this mean it's working? What does it mean?" he yelled at Thomas, who came closer, inspecting his mate. Bryce watched as his eyes blinked and refocused on her several times.
Abruptly, Thomas yanked his head back to hers, prying open one of her eyes.
"Get back!" he yelled, putting action to his words. "All of you, get away from—"
He didn't have time to finish. Everyone but Bryce, who was holding Natasha, had backed away.
Natasha twitched once in his arms, her eyes flying open. Bryce began to smile.
Natasha looked at him, her eyes unlike any he had seen before. A snarl played across her lips.
Then Natasha was gone, and Bryce found himself face to face with a snarling, snapping, very large, and very angry wolf.
"What the fuck!" he cried, backing away from the snapping jaw.
In a heartbeat, his pack was there, putting themselves in the way of the attacking animal.
It recognized the numbers against it and fled the room.
"What the hell was that?" he yelled at Thomas as the other wolves charged after his mate.
"I think you changed her into a wolf," Thomas said, understating the obvious by several degrees.
"No fucking shit!" he yelled, heading for the door to follow. "But how?"
"My guess," Thomas said slowly, "is that your wolf venom bonded with the vampire venom. Instead of turning her into a vampire, it turned her into a wolf."
"I'm glad you find it so fascinating professor. But can she change back?"
"I do not know," Thomas said simply.
Bryce snarled and, hearing a commotion, ran over to the window. The wolves were outside, heading to the forest. Swearing, he did the last thing he wanted to do. He took two steps back and jumped through the window, landing in his wolf form and taking off like a bullet after the others.
This is impossible, he thought. It simply did not happen. Wolf shifters were born not made. Bryce had never before heard of a shifter being able to turn a human. Werewolves were not real; every shifter knew that wasn't how it worked. The bite was supposed to form a bond between
him and Natasha, not turn her into a wolf!
What had he done...
The wolves careened through the forest, following the trail that her wolf blazed for them.
He could only hope that there was still some part of Natasha left within. Otherwise, Bryce knew that he would have to put her down. A wild wolf shifter was not something that could be permitted to live. Even if Bryce found he lacked the courage to do it himself, he knew Jake would.
But Natasha was his mate, and he would try whatever he could first before giving in to that possibility.
Bryce barreled through another bush.
He tried to pull up abruptly as he saw what was on the other side, but it was too late. Natasha, or her wolf, was there waiting for him. The two of them went down in a tumble of paws and yelps as they snapped at each other. Bryce was trying to avoid her attacks, all while keeping her pinned down until the others arrived.
Natasha went in for his neck, an opening he had left for her on purpose. As she did, he slammed his head against hers. His head rung after the impact, but he had been ready for it. Natasha, on the other hand, was lying on the ground, completely dazed and limp.
He howled quickly, to signal the others, then quickly shifted to his human form, taking a risk he knew he shouldn't. Still, he had to prove to Jake that the real Natasha was still in there.
Slowly the large wolf began to stir. Bryce backed away several steps, putting some distance between them, but ensuring that he was still close.
"Natasha," he called softly.
The wolf jerked in response, her head swinging up and around. The eyes focused on him as the wolf went into a crouch, teeth bared.
"I'm not going to fight you," he said slowly, putting his hands out to either side to show that he was unarmed.
Jake and the others emerged from the woods behind him, still in wolf form. Natasha snarled, suspecting a trap of some sort.
