He was an Alpha, but even he had his limits against a horde of bloodthirsty and ravenous Cold Ones.
No, it wasn’t a hard leap to figure out who’d done what.
There was only one place to take her, and he had to get her there now.
Heart racing, mouth dry, Mercer moved on autopilot. His wolf focused on saving its mate from a fate worse than death. If they took her now, in this stupor, she’d be helpless. Defenseless. They could do god only knew what to her, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing Mercer could do to stop it.
The Alpha stronghold in Georgia was, at the bare minimum, seventy-pack strong, sometimes even more, and warriors, all of them. He was powerful, but not even he would have a chance in hell of winning with those kinds of odds.
It was required by pack law that Scar accompanied him to The Alpha stronghold, but there were no specifications on when she joined him. He had to make sure that they’d not take Scar unawares and at her weakest, but make sure that when she arrived she was at her strongest and most powerful. Which meant they’d have to go to Georgia separately.
Getting to his knees, he straddled her cold body and fumbled with her shirt, popping off two of her buttons in his haste, shooting them like tiny missiles toward the walls.
Thank god she’d put on her necklace before bed.
Grabbing hold of the little golden cross, he growled, “Damn you, you filthy ghost. Get the hell out of there now if you want to save your girl.”
Mercer had never tried summoning a ghost before, and he’d definitely never thought he’d have cause to summon one of Scar’s previous lovers. But beggars could hardly afford to be choosers.
He wasn’t even sure it would work. So he trembled when the cross began to radiate with heat and bright waves of blue light. Seconds later, her ghost, Boo, stepped out of the cross and gave himself a slight shake, much as a dog would.
His gaze grazed Scarlett, and he frowned. “Why have you called me?”
Jumping to his feet, Mercer ran to the closet and grabbed whatever dark clothes he could find, not bothering to see whether the clothes were his or hers. He just grabbed whatever he could and rushed back to her side.
“C’mon, ghost. I know you guys gossip like a bunch of clucking hens in the afterlife. Don’t make me spell it out for you. We’re getting Scar to safety, and you’re gonna help.”
Boo raised his brows, but a slow smile spread over his face. “Sounds exciting. What exactly are my orders?”
Sliding a pair of black skinny jeans up her legs was easier said than done. Dressing Scarlett was like trying to dress a mannequin, except she felt like she weighed a ton.
Grunting with the effort, he shot the ghost a sideways glare. “First, how much time until the contingency gets here?”
“Thirty minutes at most.”
“Fuck me,” he snapped, buttoning up her jeans. He’d always been much better at taking clothes off her then putting them on.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” the ghost said with the hint of a laugh in his words.
Mercer glared at him. “You think anything about this is funny? Gods, I fucking hate ghosts.”
Not at all bothered by his words, Boo snorted.
Mercer sank one knee into the mattress and gently pulled Scarlett to a sitting position. Her head fell to the side, reminding him of a newborn child. Reaching for the black sweater he’d grabbed, he noticed it wasn’t one of hers, but one of his much larger ones. It fell over her tiny body like a tent. He growled, tying the ends of it up into a knot behind her body.
“Now, listen to me, and listen to me well. You’re going to cover Scar in shadow just long enough for me to get her out of here and to safety. And I don’t give a fuck if it ends you to do it. You will protect her,” he snarled and glared at Boo even as he deftly gathered Scarlett’s hair into a loose ponytail before placing a black ball cap over her head.
“Yeah. Okay,” Boo said slowly before walking over to Scarlett’s side of the bed and glancing down at her, his look frank and assessing. Mercer hadn’t lied when he’d said he’d hated ghosts. Yeah, Boo seemed different than most. But it went against all he was to accept that someone that could have claimed such love and devotion to another in life could be so detached and passionless in death.
Shifters weren’t built that way. He’d love her in life and remain devoted to her even in death. That’s how he was and would always be.
Laying her down gently, he pulled open her nightstand and grabbed for a pair of socks, finding one of his and one of hers.
“It’s gonna have to do. Sorry, baby,” he muttered, knowing how confused she’d be when she woke up dressed this way.
He wasn’t all that gentle as he slid them on. Reaching for her black combat boots, he undid the laces and slid those on, too, but didn’t bother tightening them up. There was no time.
Racing around a room whose layout he was just beginning to learn, he tried to find a pair of black gloves, knowing she had to have them somewhere. They were part of the typical vampire wardrobe, after all. But after yanking open all the drawers and even tossing the majority of the clothes onto the floor, he decided the next best option would be to grab whatever was dark enough to wrap around any bits of exposed skin she still had.
What he grabbed were two pair of silky black underwear, a long gray scarf, and knee-high thermal socks.
“Shit.” Muttering under his breath, he made quick work of it. He wrapped the scarf around her neck and face then yanked the hood up over her head. For her hands, he used the elastic of her underthings to hold them in place, sort of like makeshift gloves. The socks he slid up over her boots and jeans to seal out any possible slivers that could get caught in the sun’s light. She was bound like a mummy, and he could only hope it was enough.
He knew Scarlett could handle weak rays of sunlight, but even so, she’d burn. And while it wouldn’t kill her, it would hurt like the devil when she woke up. This was the best he could do. He laid her gently back down on the pillow.
“God, she really does look dead now, doesn’t she?” Boo asked innocently, but the question caused Mercer’s heart to feel like it’d just leaped out of his chest.
He whirled on her ghost and snarled as he said, “She’s not dead. And she won’t be dead if you do your damn job.”
Boo held up his hands. “Touchy this morning, aren’t we?”
“You have no damn idea.”
Keenly feeling the passage of time like a ticking bomb in his soul, Mercer ran to the door, tossed it open, and barked.
“Wake up, pup. We need you!”
Steven shot up in an instant, hair poking up around his head, eyes glazed over with sleep. “Up. Up. I’m up,” he muttered even as he started to fall back down onto the couch.
“Get in here, welp, now!” Mercer startled his youngest brother awake. This time, Steven actually rolled off the couch, landing on the floor with a crash and a moan.
“Merc, wut—”
“No time, kid. I’ll tell you everything when we get your sister to the truck, but you gotta help me now. Open the front door, and don’t say another word until I say to.”
Awake and looking almost fearful, his youngest brother did exactly as he was told.
Steven was young still, and just barely starting to come into his shifter strength. His body was still scrawny, his chest as thin as a bird’s, but Mercer could see the hint of wolf ripple beneath his young skin.
In a year’s time, Steven would be a fully-fledged wolf.
Steven.
Mercer’s heart almost hurt to think about what was coming for his youngest brother. Of all the brothers, Steven’s path would be the one most fraught with danger. Emerson was a fucking prick, but he was strong and capable of taking care of himself and his small family.
But Steven wasn’t. He was still just a child, and whatever Clarence had planned for Mercer, he was terrified his baby brother was going to be caught up in its crosshairs.
Steven ran, almost tripping over his growi
ng feet in his haste to get to the front door.
Mercer turned and jogged back to Scar’s side, hefting her solid body tight to his chest. He broke out into a sweat as he ran to join his brother.
It wasn’t Scar that made him sweat, but the adrenaline of fear breathing down his neck, letting him know that they’d run out of time, and if not for James’s small heads-up, they’d have had none at all.
Dipping his hand into the fish bowl sitting on the end table by the door, he pulled out Scar’s truck keys.
“Close the door behind us,” he whispered to his brother, “and do it quick.”
Steven nodded dutifully, his eyes wide and his skin pale.
Mercer’s heart hurt. He should have sent Steven away. But he and Scar had decided that, no matter where they could have sent the pup, the trackers would have eventually found him. They’d have caught him, and in all likelihood, killed him outright. It was what happened to the young when the Alpha was deposed.
Their circumstance was unusual, though, because it was clear Clarence had retained some kind of authority. Enough to get Declan Campbell to have private discussions with him, anyway.
Mercer stepped into a shaft of sunlight, and immediately, smoke curled from Scar’s body.
“Goddamn it, Boo!” he snapped and jumped back deep into a swath of shadow. Kissing her scarf-covered forehead and whispering an apology to her under his breath, he trembled all over at the thought of harming her in any way.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the ghost muttered, “I wasn’t prepared. My bad.”
The ghost held out his hand, and a sparkling sheen of glittering blue enveloped her.
“I swear to god, if she gets hurt again, I’ll fucking end you,” Mercer snapped then took a deep breath before taking that next step back toward the light.
This time, the sunlight did not harm her. Heaving a sigh of relief, he walked through the door.
“Close it, kid. And c’mon. Quick.”
He hopped down the steps, making it to her dump of a truck in three long strides, shifting her around just enough so that he could open the door. Steven was already scooting around to the other side and Mercer opened the driver’s side door a second later on loud, cringe-inducing hinges.
He’d meant to fix that for her. But they’d been too busy, and now there was no time left to do any of what he’d hoped to do for her.
Boo was still with her. He’d never be able to leave her side as long as she wore the cross. Once, the graveyard had been his tether. It’d been where he and Scarlett had met their untimely human deaths. But now, it was the cross pendant that tethered him to her.
The ghost glided into the bed of the truck and nodded. Mercer slid Scar into the truck gingerly, propping her up until Steven was settled.
“Hold your sister’s head. Don’t let her hurt herself. Got it?” he said.
Steven nodded and took possession of their precious cargo. “Got it,” he said softly, face screwed into a mask of pure grit and determination.
No one could accuse their baby brother of being anything but brave.
Mercer hopped in, shoved the key into the ignition, and turned it until the beast roared to life.
The outside of Betsy was nothing but rust and salvaged parts, but Scar had been diligent lately in her upkeep of its engine. The thing purred like it had just come off the lot.
Stomping on the gas, he tore down the gravel driveway, headed for his trapper cabin. No one in Silver Creek knew about it. And since that time when she’d battled Sharp Elbows, nearly dying from her wounds, he’d made a few modifications to it, like adding a room built entirely of concrete, with no windows at all.
It wasn’t warded with a level-ten charm, but then, no one knew about it either. He could only hope it was enough to keep her safe until she woke.
The road was uneven and jostled them every mile of the way, but Mercer didn’t dare slow down. Soon, they were flying past the haunted shack. Delilah screamed at their passing, hungry for more souls to feed her unquenchable thirst.
Mercer shifted gears, readying to turn the bend and go deep into the hidden parts of Silver Creek forest, which was more like a labyrinth of trees and spires of rocky outcroppings that would cause anyone not familiar with its devious twists and turns to get lost.
He felt Steven looking at him, a question written all over his face.
Mercer glanced at Scar, cradled gently on her brother’s lap. Steven and Scarlett weren’t true blood, but that had never stopped them from loving one another and developing a bond just as deep as any pack could boast.
He swallowed hard. “I know you’re scared, Steven, and it’s okay. I promise, it’s okay. One way or another, we’re gonna make it through this as a family, no matter what. But you know what we’ve been talking about for the last two weeks? About Dad and the trial and what might come next?”
Steven nodded slowly, big eyes welling with tears, but not one of them fell. “Yeah,” he said weakly.
Mercer blinked several times, trying to stop the blurring in his own eyes. “It’s here, little brother. And you have to be brave now. Braver than you’ve ever been. Can you do that?”
His tiny bird-like chest rose and fell, and though the pulse at his neck beat wildly, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. But... but what about Scar? Where are we taking her?”
Looking back at the road, they were now less than a mile away from his cabin. They were cutting it close, but maybe they could pull this off after all.
“Someplace safe, where they can’t hurt her. But don’t worry, pup. You know your sister.”
He chuckled low. “Yeah. And she’s gonna be pissed when she comes to. Probably kill ‘em all.”
Mercer bit his bottom lip, holding back his laugh even as he mock glowered at his little brother. “I told you about saying those words.”
“Sorry.”
Mercer sniffed and made the final turn. The trapper’s cabin loomed before them.
Steven gasped. “What is this place?”
“It’s just a place. I hope I can trust that you won’t tell another soul about this. For her. Got it? You wanna keep her safe, you say nothing.”
He nodded bravely.
Twenty feet away from the door, Mercer braked hard and tossed the gear into park.
Immediately, they both opened their doors. Mercer got out first so he could take Scar back into his arms. He tromped up the stairs with hurried steps, so desperate to get her inside that he nearly kicked the door open.
“Open it, Steven. Quick.”
His brother raced past him and flung it open, and Mercer crossed the threshold. The place smelled like moldy wood after being closed up for so long.
Stomping toward the very back room, he entered the almost-blinding darkness and gently laid Scarlett down in the center of the floor. There was no bed in here. No furniture at all.
Quickly, he unbound the scarf from around her neck, dropping it to the floor beside her. Leaning down, he kissed her marble-cold mouth. He ached for her and wished like hell that, just like in those silly fairy tales she loved so much, his kiss would wake her up.
But Scar was dead to the world.
The glow of Blue hovering over them lit the interior almost like moon glow.
“Guard her, ghost. Tell her what’s happened when she wakes up. Prepare her for what she’ll find as best you can. Promise me?” Still kneeling over her, Mercer looked up at Boo.
Boo, no longer laughing, nodded slowly. “I vow it, shifter. She will survive this day.”
Mercer winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he trembled. It went against everything in him to abandon her.
With one final kiss to her forehead, he growled—the sound full of pain and fury—shot to his feet, and without looking back, sealed her in that room.
Taking Steven’s arm, he led his brother out of the cabin and back to the truck. They had minutes to spare, and they had to be far, far away to make sure there wouldn’t be a trail to lead them here.
They jumped in the truck, driving recklessly through loops and turns, backtracking and muddling their trail so that no one could hope to find her.
When they got back to their house, the Wolf Pack was waiting for them, leaning casually against the railing and smirking.
“Good try there, chief, but we’ll find her. You know we will,” rumbled a tall, swarthy man with a burn mark obscuring the left half of his face.
“You can try,” Mercer said with a shake of his head, oozing confidence and violence as his wolf stretched long limbs inside him, begging to come out and play.
A woman with hair the red of Unseelie blood stepped forward. Dressed in a coat of rabbit pelts and wearing tanned leathers, she looked like a wild woman, more suited to living off the land than serving an arrogant Alpha lord. A long, thin, vertical scar ran from her left eye down to the corner of her lip. Whoever she was, the woman was clearly a warrior through and through.
“Mercer McCarrick, Steven McCarrick, you’ve been called. You can come of your own free will, or we can do this the hard way and make you. Your choice.” Her voice didn’t waver. Her body didn’t tremble. And her eyes were hard as flint as she stared at them both.
She’d meant every word she said. He eyed the rest of the pack standing behind her. These were the Alpha’s very best and deadliest warriors. More than that, each and every one of them was of the nobility. Not even those most loyal to Mercer would move against them. To do so would be death—swift, violent, and absolute.
There was no choice but to obey.
Mercer pulled Steven to his side, hiding his brother’s tremble as best he could from the predatory and assessing gaze of the Alpha’s elite killers and assassins.
“We’ll come.”
The female nodded, heading down the steps and snapping her fingers to the five guardsman, who turned and followed without question toward the black stretch limos ahead.
The swarthy man with the burnt face stopped in front of Mercer, eyeing him with cruel silver eyes. “Who warned you?”
Mercer just smirked but said nothing at all.
The Vampire Went Down to Georgia (Southern Vampire Detective Book 3) Page 7
