Crossfire (Book Two of the Darkride Chronicles)

by Laura Bradley Rede

I can see the struggle on Five’s face. If she refuses to help Cicely, she’ll have us trapped. She can take one of the thralls—there are a few who would be happy to volunteer—and Cicely will have no choice but to vamp them or let them die.

  But there’s no time. Five grabs the bars and she and Cicely pull. There’s another bang on the door. It jumps so hard Luke is thrown forward—luckily, because a massive claw rips through the wood, just inches from his back.

  I scream.

  “It’s open!” Cicely flings the brace of metal window bars behind her. They hit the floor with a clang. She yanks at the window behind them. “Nailed shut!”

  “Stand back!” Five picks up the brace of bars and swings them at the window, hard. Glass shatters everywhere and cold night air rushes in like the house is sucking in its breath.

  “Go!” Luke shouts at me, “Go!”

  I run, my feet scrabbling on the polished floor. Already some of the thralls are climbing out the window into the night. Cicely stands by the window, helping them step between the jagged glass teeth that line the window frame “Go, Emmie. We’re right behind you.”

  I shake my head. “Not until everyone’s out.”

  But they’re not all coming. A few of the thralls hide behind the beds. Some cry out for the Hunters, desperate for their captors to come save them from the people who are trying to save them. “That’s it,” Cicely says. “That’s all who want to go.”

  My heart breaks for the ones who choose to be left behind, but there’s nothing more we can do. “Go,” I tell Cicely. “Jump!”

  She nods once, turns, and disappears into the dark air just as the wooden door gives way. Luke is thrown forward, but he leaps to his feet, spinning to face them. In that instant, his fangs bared, his eyes on fire, I swear he is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. He crouches between me and the Hunters, like he would give his life for mine.

  But that is no longer an option. Luke’s life is mine now, and the one thing that could still take that life away is standing framed in the doorway right now: D.J., in wolf form, his muzzle rusty with dried blood, spit hanging from his canines in ropes. I try to tell myself this is the same boy I used to know, but it’s no use. Ander may have managed to keep his humanity alive, but D.J. has been taken by the wolf.

  And now the wolf is going to take us. The thought flashes through my mind that I will never kiss Luke again, that the bite that bonded us will be our last. It strikes me as real ironic that I finally bond only to lose my life a moment later. Who becomes immortal and then dies?

  Evidently not me. Luke jumps up onto the window sill, his boots kicking glass out into the air. He grabs my hand and pulls me up after him. For a second, we teeter on the edge of black nothingness. Then Luke’s arm is around my waist, pulling me close. “I’ve got you, muñeca. Jump.”

  Chapter 40: Cicely

  I pause just long enough to see that Luke and Emmie get out safely, jumping from the window to the roof of the porch below it, then lowering themselves to the ground. As soon as they hit the ground running, I run, too. Most of the rescued thralls have already scattered and I’m hoping the few who stayed behind will be okay, but there’s no way to know. Right now, I can’t worry about them.

  I’m too busy worrying about Ander. I can’t picture that he would have let the Hunters get past him if he was still able to fight, which means… I try to push the thought out of my mind, to concentrate on the rhythm of my running feet, the cold air slicing past me as I fly, but it doesn’t help. I try to repeat my mantra, Life after… but just thinking the last word makes me feel ill. I can’t lose him. I can’t.

  When the smell of wolf hits me, I know I should run faster, but I slow down instead. It’s not coming from behind us, so I doubt it’s D.J. It’s coming from the side.

  “Cicely, come on!” Luke smells it, too. “We’re almost to the gate!”

  “What if it’s Ander?”

  “What if it’s not?” There’s real fear in Luke’s eyes. He has Emmie to worry about now, too, and he doesn’t want to get them both killed.

  “Go!” I tell him. “I’ll meet you at the front gate.”

  “You won’t be able to pass through it! The crosses—”

  “Just go!” I’ll worry about the gate when I reach it. If I do. Right now, I don’t care if I can leave because I’m not walking out of here without Ander.

  I duck into the shadows to wait, just as a figure rounds the side of the house at a run. My spirits fall. It isn’t Ander, it’s Naomi. She must already smell like wolf, even though she can’t change yet. She spots me and rushes towards me. “Cicely! Thank God! We thought—”

  “I’m okay.” Physically, it’s true, and mentally, I’m a little better now, seeing that she’s alive. At least I know she’s okay, and Ander hasn’t lost his pack. “Where’s Ander? Is he…?”

  “No. Captured.” She looks as if she might cry. The werewolf bite is taking its toll on her. Her face is slick with sweat. She’s shaking.

  I swear. “How?”

  “Tranquilizer dart. Cicely, I’m sorry. I tried.”

  “It’s not your fault. I know you did everything you could.” I mean it, too. Naomi cares about Ander; the fact that he’s her alpha now has only made her more loyal. I’m sure she would have died for him if she thought it would help. “We’ll get him back. We have to.” The thought of what they might do to him otherwise is too much to take. Why do they want Ander alive? Do they still think they can turn him to their side? Brainwash him, the way they brainwashed the thralls? Or are they out for a revenge worse than death?

  “What about the others?” I ask. For the millionth time, I search for the enluzantes with my mind, but their thoughts are distant and faint. I hope that means they are far from here, for their sakes. But even from this distance, I can tell there’s something missing from their thoughts, like the bass notes have been cut out of the harmony. A wave of sadness hits me. “Cole,” I say, “is he…”

  “Cole is dead. He took on three Hunters so the rest of us could escape. Cicely, I’m sorry.” It’s strange to see a werewolf tear up over the death of a vampire. Strange, even for me. I know I would tear up myself if I could. I picture huge, scarred Cole. It doesn’t matter that he was dead before I met him, or that he never spoke a word to me out loud.

  “He was a good man.”

  Naomi nods. “The others wouldn’t leave until they felt you head for the gates. They didn’t want to leave you behind. Ian convinced them to go once they knew you were safe.”

  A rush of appreciation floods me. At least the rest of the Remnant is still with us.

  “Where are they now?”

  “The woods. We said we would meet up there and come back in for Ander.”

  I force a deep breath. She’s right, I know: if we want a chance at rescuing Ander, we need to regroup, come in as a united force. I turn to the gates. Not long ago, the twisted iron crosses would have filled my chest with fear, but now they barely affect me. Maybe because I’m already saturated with a fear of something so much worse: the fear I will never see Ander again.

  Chapter 41: Ander

  I wake up with my arms spread wide, looking up at the stars. For a second it’s almost peaceful, like I’m waiting for the night to give me a big hug. Then the last of the tranquilizer in my system burns away and my memories come charging back: the battle, the big enluzante falling, telling Naomi to run… I try to sit up, but I can’t move an inch. There are chains around my torso, chains around my wrists. It would be enough to send the wolf in me into a fury, but I feel no need to turn. Maybe the tranquilizer is still weighing me down, or maybe it’s because the chains are plated with silver, sapping my strength, but I know from experience even that wouldn’t be enough to keep me from changing if I were truly out of control.

  Which means Naomi must still be alive. I send a prayer of gratitude up into the darkness above me, and a cry for help, too, because I want them all to live—Luke and Emmie and the enluzantes, and Cicely most of
all. The last time I saw Cicely, she was running to free the thralls. Did she make it? Where is she now? Please, I think to the stars. Please.

  In response, the stars begin to spin.

  No, that’s not right. I’m the one who is moving. My groggy mind struggles to make sense of it. I turn my head as far as it will go in the thick collar of chains. There are men on either side of me, at my hands. If I crane my neck, I can just make out another at my feet, and one above my head. They are carrying me like pallbearers carrying a coffin towards the grave, and I’m starting to understand why.

  I’m chained to a cross.

  Instantly, I can picture it because I’ve seen this cross before. It’s huge and white and wooden and my father used it for vampires. I remember one time in particular, he tied an enluzante to it. I remember how the vampire twitched as we hoisted him up, electrified with fear. He told us whatever we wanted to know, and as a reward, my father cut him down from the cross and laid him on the ground. He was shirtless and the touch of the cross had burned a black shadow into his back, like the crosshairs of a gun. My brother staked him right where the two lines met.

  The memory makes me endlessly thankful it’s me chained here and not Cicely. I don’t know what they think being bound to a cross will do to me, but I can all too easily picture what it would do to her. That level of fear would be enough to kill a living thing, to stop its heart in terror, but Cicely wouldn’t be able to get out of it so easily. Her heart has already stopped.

  Stopped beating, that is, not loving. I know Cicely loves me. That’s the thought I hold onto as the Hunters march me to the center of the courtyard. Grunting with the effort, they hoist me upright, the bottom of the cross scraping the dirt as they pull it into place, leaving a rut like a wound. Once they have me upright, they drive the cross into the ground, my own weight helping to sink it, and I can’t help remembering the wooden cross driving deep into Cicely’s heart.

  The memory cuts into my own heart and lodges like a splinter. My weight drags me down against my chains, making them dig deep into my wrists and ankles and press on my throat until I choke. It takes a few minutes for me to brace the soles of my feet against the wood and push myself up enough to relieve the pressure and look around.

  I can see everything from here, and what I see makes me sick. On one side of the courtyard there are maybe a dozen Hunters, all in human form, except for D.J., who is in wolf form. On the other side, there is a random assortment of captives. Cicely isn’t among them, and neither is Naomi or Emmie or Luke. I recognize Lyla Jansen from the Remnant, but the rest of them are unfamiliar to me—a couple of humans who must be thralls, and a few vampires who look dirty and ragged enough to have come from the kennels. They’re heavily chained like I am, but there’s hardly any need. Lyla is the only one with any fire left in her eyes. The other vamps are so thin and weak-looking, it’s hard to picture them doing much damage. They sit on one side of the courtyard, like pawns on a chessboard. On the other side, my mother steps forward, the ultimate queen.

  “Ander.” She looks up at me. Why have I never really noticed how cold her eyes can be? Her voice carries across the silent courtyard. “When I thought you had come home to us—to your family—I felt like you were coming back from the dead. But now…” She shakes her head sadly. “Now I see you are too far gone. And so it’s time to end this.”

  Are they going to kill me? I scan the crowd for the raised gun, brace myself for the feeling of the silver bullet piercing my skin, but there’s no one. Instead, my mother turns to the Hunter nearest the gates. “Open the gates.”

  And then I get it. I’m not the trapped animal here.

  I’m the bait.

  They intend to let Cicely and the others try to rescue me, knowing full well none of the vampires will be able to get close enough to the cross do me any good. Cicely won’t be able to save me, but she’ll torture herself trying. And when she has exhausted herself, they can take her out—or let the dawn do it for them. The sun will be up soon, and, once Cicely sees me, I doubt she would leave my side.

  The thought fills me with rage, and with a tiny spark of hope, too. If they think this is worth doing, it’s because they think the others are alive. All I have to do is get to them before they try to get to me.

  Channeling all my anger, I force myself to turn. It isn’t easy. The tranquilizer has damped my senses, the silver drained my strength. Even furious as I am, it’s a long moment before I can summon the wolf within me and when I do, it’s excruciatingly painful. The chains are wrapped tight to my human form. Turning into my bigger, heavier wolf form makes them bite that much deeper, cutting welts into my wrists and ankles, squeezing my chest until I feel like it will burst with every breath. Still, I change again and again, trying to weaken the chains, trying to knock them loose.

  I don’t think it helps. In fact, it might be the dumbest thing I could do because I can’t stop myself from crying out, howling and bellowing when the chains slice my skin, and I’m sure my cries are too much for Cicely to stand. I’m calling her to me when I mean to send her away.

  But it’s actually Naomi who comes, walking calmly through the front gate. I start to truly panic. Why is she here? They’ll shoot her! I can already see one of the hunters raising his gun. Naomi just keeps walking towards him. I open my mouth to command her, as her alpha, to run.

  But D.J. speaks first. “Don’t shoot. She’s Ander’s pack now, and we don’t want him to lose it. We want him conscious for this.”

  Is that really what he’s thinking, I wonder? Or is he trying to spare Naomi because he has a thing for her? His wolf face is impossible to read. He steps towards Naomi, standing between her and the gunman.

  As soon as he’s within arms reach, Naomi bolts. Instinctively, D.J. grabs hold of her arm.

  That’s the physical contact she’s been waiting for. As soon as D.J.’s massive paw touches Naomi’s arm, I can almost feel the charm magic flowing out of her, and I realize that was the plan: take out their alpha wolf. Get my little brother out of the fight.

  And it’s working. D.J. drops to his knees, disoriented—but that’s enough to give the gunman a clear shot at Naomi. He raises his gun again.

  “No!” I writhe in my chains, desperate to get to her, but it’s no use. I’m helpless. A shot rings out.

  The gunman falls.

  It takes me a second to understand it wasn’t the gunman who fired. Then Luke drops from the top of the wall, landing in a crouch like a black cat, the gun still in his hand.

  All hell breaks loose. Someone fires. The bullet comes so close to Luke’s shoulder, I’m sure it must have grazed him, but he doesn’t even pause. The expression on his face is murderous. He looks like he belongs here in the war zone.

  Emmie, however, doesn’t. She dashes in the front gate, red boots flying, Luke’s black coat flapping over her bloodstained nightgown. Damn it! What the fuck is she doing here? She’ll never survive.

  “Emmie!” I scream at her. “Go back! Get out!” But she doesn’t turn. Instead, she runs towards the captives. Across the courtyard another hunter takes aim.

  “Emmie!”

  The bullet catches her in the chest. It’s a direct hit. Blood blooms through the lapel of her borrowed coat, black on black. I feel like I’m going to be sick because it’s a direct hit. There’s no way she can survive it.

  But it barely slows her down. She races the last few yards to the closest thrall and starts to unlock his chains, with no hesitation. I stare at her in disbelief. Why isn’t she falling? It’s almost as if she’s—

  Immortal.

  I turn and stare at Luke. His hand is over his chest, like he can feel her wound. There is fury in his eyes. He launches himself at the Hunter who shot her, at superhuman speed, fangs out, hissing like an animal. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  No, I take that back. I have seen it, when a vampire defends his bonded thrall. Which means Luke and Emmie are bonded. I breathe again with relief. A bullet can’t kill Emmie now
.

  But a werewolf can. The Hunter drops his gun, his body expanding outwards as the change takes him. He lowers his head like a bull and charges at Luke.

  They collide in midair and drop, landing in a snarling blur of black and fur. All around them, chaos is spinning and I hardly know where to focus, but I see Emmie look up from unlocking Lyla as Luke goes down. She drops the key and races for the Hunter’s abandoned gun. Snatching it up, she aims it at the swirling mass, but they’re moving too fast. There’s no way to know who she’ll hit. She squeezes the trigger once… twice… both bullets fly wide, ricocheting off the walls behind them.

  On the third shot, the werewolf bellows. Luke barely manages to dodge its massive body as it hurtles towards him like a felled oak. He gives Emmie a look of stunned admiration over the top of the limp werewolf and she flashes him a charming smile in return.

  Yup. Bonded.

  Luke and Emmie are okay for now, but that doesn’t mean we’re winning. From here I can see everything: the little enluzante they call Rose looks close to death, slumped against the wall in a puddle of black blood. Naomi seems to have lost my brother, but she has charmed one of the other wolves into human form long enough for the red-headed enluzante to jump him. Lyla has grabbed the abandoned key and is rushing to unchain the last of the captives, but they’re falling almost as fast as she can free them. As soon as the key clicks in the last lock, she drops it and runs to help the red-headed guy. I’m desperate to get out of these chains and help or die trying, but how can I without the key?

  “Emmie!” I yell. “The key!” But Emmie has gone to Rose. She’s feeding the girl from her wrist, probably saving her life. I cast around helplessly for Five, but I can’t find her. Whether she died or abandoned us, I can’t say, but she’s nowhere to be seen. There’s no one who can help me.

  Then, across the courtyard, I spot Cicely. The key is halfway between her and me. She has a straight shot. But there’s no way she can do it. There’s no way an enluzante could get that close to this cross.