Blood Oath (#8, the Mystic Wolves)

by Belinda Boring

  It was the same sentiment I’d uttered time and time again, only now I understood it for the lie it was.

  All wasn’t always well.

  Sometimes bad things happened no matter how hard you tried to prevent them. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “All will be well,” I uttered under my breath and added another item to the long list of faults I’d been accumulating.

  Liar.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It seemed like I’d only just lay my head down on the pillow, exhausted from the grueling day and drinks I’d gratefully consumed upon our return, when the house exploded into boisterous and angry shouting.

  And so it begins, I muttered disheartened. Sitting up again and slipping my clothes back on, I immediately headed down to where I knew a group was now gathered. The men had returned from London, but it wasn’t out of drunken foolishness that they disturbed the sleeping manor.

  Sullivan had barely arrived from his own room with his hair mussed. The look of frustration was boldly stamped across his features, and I knew that before this conversation was over, he’d wish that annoyance were the only thing he was feeling.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” He thundered, controlling his rising temper by a mere thread. There was one thing I knew about the young Alpha—while he was easy going and slow to anger, he loathed any kind of chaos in his home. Each man scrambled to answer him, talking over one another, their voices growing louder and louder. I was surprised if neighboring estates weren’t awakened by the melee.

  “Enough!” he roared again, this time pointing to one of his pack members. “Thomas, tell me what’s going on? Why do you all look as if you’ve been brawling?”

  That was an understatement. Torn clothes scuffed with dirt, scattered patches of dried blood covered their attire along with cuts and newly forming bruises. It had to have been one hell of a row. Even with their powers to heal, each still bore battle wounds.

  Thomas threw a furious glance at the men he’d been with. “There was a fight.”

  “I can see that.” There was no mistaking the exasperation in Sullivan’s voice. “Explain yourselves. Now.” He layered his tone with his Alpha authority and I watched as they cowered beneath its weight. More and more people joined us, coming from different parts of the house. Joshua and Annabeth were some of the last to approach.

  “Gentlemen?” Joshua asked, confusion crinkling his brow. “Has there been trouble?” He glanced at Sullivan for answers. “Is there trouble?”

  “There will be if no one starts talking!” my friend threatened. He was rapidly losing the calm façade he presented to the world. “So far, all they’ve confessed to is there was a fight.”

  “We were minding our own business, leaving the club to journey home, when a small group attacked us from the shadows.” I vaguely remembered the speaker’s name, recognizing him as someone who’d arrived with Joshua and his sister.

  Francis . . . maybe?

  Thomas scoffed. “Sullivan asked for the truth. We weren’t simply attacked without cause. Tell him what you and your mates decided to do first before passing any blame.”

  “Francis?” Joshua pressed. “What did you do?”

  The older gentleman blanched at being caught in a lie. Stammering as he struggled to find the right words, he fidgeted on the spot before his ire was stoked again. “It was exactly as I said. We were leaving and these bastards came out of nowhere!” He glanced at Annabeth, realizing she was there. “Pardon the language, my lady.”

  Sullivan dismissed the apology and locked into him. “And you did nothing to provoke the attack?” Judging from the state they were in and the fact they were werewolves and naturally hot headed if they hadn’t learned self-control, his skepticism was justified. “Thomas?”

  “There was a group outside that tried to instigate a confrontation, but we were almost to the carriages. We could’ve left without any problem.”

  While wolves never liked walking away from a fight, they also knew how to wisely choose their battles. Living amongst humans demanded a certain level of discretion and a constant reminder that mortals were a lot more fragile than supernatural beings.

  “So again, I repeat, what happened?” Sullivan’s voice rose and his fists clenched at his side. If he didn’t hear the story soon, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wrung it from their necks.

  “I refuse to walk away from an insult,” Francis confessed and he straightened in defiance as if challenging the others to criticize him. “One of them struck a nerve and I answered it with my fists.”

  Images of the brawling men filled my mind. It would’ve been a bloody mess by the end of it.

  “That still doesn’t explain why the rest of you look as though you spent ten rounds in the boxing ring.” It was Joshua who spoke now. “Did no one try to break Francis and his target apart?”

  “No,” Thomas interrupted, shooting another harried look at the others surrounding him. “They seemed to believe Francis’s first punch was permission to join in the fray. They were hell bent on making the strangers pay for their jibes, even when they began drawing a crowd.”

  “All this over a few insults?” Sullivan took a step closer, eyeing them each with suspicion. “What else?”

  “No one disrespects me!” Francis fired back.

  “I warn you, do not test me. There are ladies present and other guests. While under my roof, I would encourage you not to anger me.” There was no mistaking the threat. Retribution would be swift should he test Sullivan’s limits.

  “You hold no authority over me,” Francis sneered foolishly, catching himself only after he’d spoken out loud. “I won’t apologize for defending my honor. It was within my rights to respond and I did so.”

  “The fight resulted in the death of two of the attackers,” Thomas blurted, finally admitting the truth. “It erupted so quickly that we jumped in to break it apart and got caught up in the fight. We didn’t intend to add fuel to the fire, Sullivan.” By we, I assumed he meant fellow Pack members.

  Throughout this conversation, I could see the nervous glances some threw at me. This was Pack business and, because they perceived me as human, it meant they had to speak in code so I wouldn’t discover their true natures. They had no idea that I already knew—that I understood a lot more than they knew.

  A few of Joshua’s men broke out into victorious cheers. It was insane how pleased they were over teaching a few ‘mouthy bastards’ a lesson. Whatever alcohol they’d consumed had already burned through their systems so they couldn’t blame their foolishness on intoxication. No, this was their wolves celebrating winning the fight.

  The only ones not excited were Thomas and those who’d tagged along, hoping only for a fun night before heading home.

  Sullivan and Joshua stood still, glowering at those still happily bantering back and forth, one or two reenacting some of the punches they’d delivered.

  “Let me understand this,” Sullivan spat through clenched teeth. “You were insulted and, instead of walking away, you chose to retaliate and killed them?” How he hadn’t shifted into his wolf was amazing. These idiots would do well to learn a lesson in control from him.

  “That’s not all,” Thomas interjected. Walking forward, he whispered into his Alpha’s ear the words I already knew. The result was immediate and swift. Sullivan’s features darkened like a violent thunderstorm ready to unleash its fury on the world.

  “What have you done?” he roared, his anger filling the foyer we’d been standing in. His reaction was so forceful I was surprised the windows and chandelier didn’t rattled from it. “Where was your common sense?” His hands curled into fists as electricity sparked into life. If I had been human, I would’ve brushed the sensation off as the weather or something, but I’d been around werewolves long enough to recognize the telltale signs of an impending shift. Sullivan was about to explode into his wolf form, despite the fact he believed I was clueless to who and what he was. “You have placed a death sentence on
us all!”

  “Come now, that’s a little extreme,” Joshua countered. He assumed the men killed were human and easily disposed of. People often died from a wide variety of ailments and misfortunes in London. A few more wouldn’t wreak the kind of havoc Sullivan was suggesting.

  “They were Balthazar’s men,” Sullivan growled, not once taking his eyes off the fools who’d allowed their egos to trump common sense. “Instead of taking a moment to assess the situation, they rushed in and destroyed what little semblance of peace we’ve managed to protect.”

  Joshua’s face drained of all color and his hands visibly trembled. It took every ounce of self-control to prevent my own outrage from exploding. I knew who it was they’d pissed off and I knew the level of brutality soon to be unleashed in revenge. No one harmed Balthazar’s men and lived to tell the tale.

  While Sullivan’s wolves were formidable in their own right, the brute force of Balthazar’s vampires equally matched them. The tenuous treaty they’d both enjoyed had been ripped to shreds in one hotheaded instant.

  Francis also paled as the full truth came to light. He’d tried to play it off they’d defeated mere humans, not the savage vampires they’d actually been. Later, more details would come to light, revealing Francis and his supporters had done far more than simply respond to taunts. In their drunken states, they’d antagonized strangers, itching for a way to diffuse their inherent primal need to hunt and kill.

  “Who are they that we can’t defend our own?” There was a shaky tremor in his voice as he desperately tried to hold onto his failing bravado. Francis knew he’d screwed up royally. If he thought this was bad, however, he was in no way prepared for the storm that was coming.

  “Do. Not. Speak!” Sullivan towered over the fool, gripping the front of his torn shirt in his fist.

  “I did no wrong. It was within my right,” he repeated.

  I wanted to scream at him to shut up, and advise if he couldn’t show even the slightest hint of self-preservation, to at least present a little humility. He’d screwed up. There was no doubt about it.

  Sullivan ignored his defiant question, locking gazes with him. “Pray that I can contain this nightmare, otherwise I guarantee your punishment will be so absolute future generations of your family will talk of it in hushed, fearful tones. Do not test my limited patience!”

  “Is there no way you can resolve this peacefully?” Joshua asked. Annabeth had been quiet the entire time. Shocked, she’d backed up to the stairs and sat on the second step, her hand covering her mouth in horror.

  “We need to go to the authorities,” I quipped, playing the role of a human. “It would be better that they admit to their guilt and beg for the court’s mercy than to go into hiding.” It was the sensible thing to suggest. It earned me a mocking snort from Francis.

  “They deserved to die. Filthy animals.” His remark showed that he knew exactly who they were. There was no mistaking their identities. He wouldn’t be able to brush off the mistake by saying he hadn’t sensed their supernatural powers until it was too late.

  “Silence.” A tic pulsed in Sullivan’s temple and he rubbed his face with exhaustion. Before the next few days were over, he would look even more haggard. Whatever sleep he managed to get would have to suffice. “Return to your rooms and get cleaned up. I’ll discuss the matter and our options with Joshua and summon you then. Do not leave the house under any circumstances. Should you choose to ignore my orders, know this . . . you will never be welcome here again nor receive any aide I can offer. You will be alone . . . rogue.”

  With their gazes secured firmly to the ground, each of the men nodded, and began to disperse. For a second, I thought Francis was going to challenge Sullivan’s demands, but he must’ve thought better of it. Apologizing again to Annabeth as he passed her. No one said another word until they’d disappeared to their rooms.

  “How can I help?” I asked, knowing I could do little, but nevertheless needing to help. While my head told me that this wasn’t my fault and the responsibility landed firmly at the feet of those involved, my heart wouldn’t accept the logic. I’d had a chance to stop this and chose to do nothing.

  “I don’t know yet, Devlin,” he answered, sighing harshly in frustration. “I will need to return to London and see if I can find a peaceful way to resolve this. They will need to answer for their crimes. Restitution will need to be made.” His word choice alluded to the human justice system. In actuality, he would need to seek an audience with Balthazar, the vampire king.

  “I will send them home with Annabeth while I accompany you. They are my responsibility and I must answer for their actions.” Helping his sister to stand, Joshua gathered her in his arms. “You must inform Ephraim about this. He may also be able help.”

  Ephraim Tanner was their Alpha and the one ultimately responsible for his Pack mates’ actions. While Sullivan had threatened punishment and was within his right to do so, Ephraim himself would no doubt execute the sentence—whatever that may be. There was no chance in hell I envied Francis after the way he’d acted. Even if he hadn’t killed the vampires or instigated the fight, his arrogance towards another Alpha would see him forced to submit—if not put to death—for his crimes and blatant disregard for werewolf law.

  “I’m afraid,” Annabeth whispered, tears falling down her cheeks.

  It was my turn to speak up. “It’ll be okay,” I lied, pretending that she had nothing to worry about. “After a quick investigation, they will rule it self defense and we can put this all behind us.” With so much crime happening in London, it wasn’t a far stretch to assume the police would want to close the case quickly.

  Sullivan agreed with my sentiments. “And besides, it’s nothing you need concern yourself over.” He tenderly cupped her cheek and brushed away her tears. “If it’s the last thing I do, I will work to make this right.”

  “So, shall I instruct them to start packing?”

  He glanced at Joshua and frowned. “Honestly? That would be the wisest course of action, but my gut says to wait. It might be safer for them to remain here until we return from London. We’ll have more answers then and can plan accordingly.”

  A knowing look was exchanged between them. The more accurate meaning beneath his comments meant it would be better to see how swiftly Balthazar reacted to the news of his fallen men before the guilty wolves left. Kilgrave Manor was a fortress they could defend. At least there they would have a fighting chance. They could easily be ambushed on the road home.

  I nodded. “That makes better sense. It would be hard to prove to a judge it was self defense if they’ve fled like they were guilty.” Part of me wished I could admit that I understood the full weight of the situation instead of guarding my word choice.

  “So, it’s decided. I will leave for London within the hour—no later. Devlin and Joshua, I ask that you come with me. I’ll leave Merrick in charge while we’re gone.” Merrick was Sullivan’s second-in-command and would protect the Pack in his Alpha’s absence.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest we wait, but the sooner Sullivan could work his magic on the situation, the better it might be for all involved. How could I convince him that he would be needed here more . . . that the true danger was still to come?

  With a plan firmly in place, I headed back to my room to dress for the road. It would be a whirlwind trip—one that would be more an exercise in futility than anything else.

  As we headed out the door an hour later, I offered one last suggestion that would have to suffice.

  “Make sure Annabeth isn’t left alone today.”

  “Yes,” Merrick answered, acknowledging the nod from Sullivan as well. “I’ll personally see to it.”

  Hopping into the carriage and taking my seat, my grim party remained silent as we pondered the challenge before us. I offered up a silent prayer.

  I just hoped she wouldn’t suffer long.

  For all our sakes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Fury seethed
inside me.

  I’d steeled myself in preparation for this meeting, but there was no way I could ever have predicted the powerful rage that slammed through me at the sight of Mikhail. Every bone in my body demanded I ignore his disdain and reach out and snap the bastard’s neck.

  My reaction was visceral—one of those moments when I was lost to any form of reasoning, wanting only to give in to my more aggressive urges. Being human made no difference at all. I didn’t need my vampiric strength to rip his head from his shoulders. While it wouldn’t happen in one graceful movement, the alternative pleased me more . . . the idea of dragging out his agony and making him suffer a million times over for the torment he’d brought upon me.

  One day, this vile creature would stare up at me with a look of sheer terror, begging for his life and scratching at me in desperation, to somehow show him mercy. Laughter would erupt from within me—gleeful and explosive because, no matter how he bargained, I would never, ever forgive him.

  Having honor didn’t mean rolling over and allowing others to abuse you.

  Acting with integrity wasn’t code for becoming a doormat and meekly accepting the disdain of those trying to control you.

  If that meant I was wrong and would besmirch the way I tried to live my life, then so be it. It was better to ask forgiveness than permission, and it would simply be added to the long list I’d accrued in my quest for redemption. I’d made a lot of mistakes in my long life, but this one— seeing Mikhail pay for his crimes—would be one I’d happily defend with my dying breath.

  Until then, I vowed to grimace and bide my time, doing nothing to reveal I knew exactly whom Sullivan had come to talk with.

  Sullivan mentioned he and Joshua planned to go into the room alone, hoping it wouldn’t take long to come to some kind of understanding. I did not press and inquire why we weren’t going to the local police station when we’d turned in the opposite direction, heading toward St James where we stopped outside a rather grand building.