Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  A shot rang out.

  Her body jerked in midair, then struck Rylie. It knocked them both to the ground. Rylie shrieked, anticipating the tearing pain of claws and teeth.

  But Cassidy didn’t attack once Rylie was flattened. She was a dead weight.

  “Oh my God,” Rylie whispered. “Oh my God.”

  She pushed the body off of her and slid out from underneath. Her ankle burned as the broken bones quickly knit. Her hands were bloodstained.

  Seth stood at the edge of the clearing, his rifle aimed. He hurried forward and put himself between Rylie and Cassidy. The muzzle stayed trained on her skull the entire time in case she moved again, but Rylie knew it wasn’t necessary. Seth’s first bullet had done the job. Cassidy was dead.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching down to squeeze Rylie’s hand.

  “I’m alive.” Her voice was shaking. She grasped her ankle between both hands as it burned and throbbed with supernatural healing.

  He knelt by Cassidy’s body, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “It’s smaller than I expected,” Seth said with a frown. He held his hand up to her paw, spreading his fingers out to judge the size. “I’m sure I found bigger prints.”

  “This isn’t the only one. She’s not Jericho, he’s…” A huge, hulking form rose behind Seth, and Rylie’s eyes widened. “Seth! Behind you!”

  He spun, but he couldn’t raise his gun in time.

  Jericho slammed into Seth, taking them both to the ground. Seth’s head bounced on a rock. He gave a sharp cry and fell silent.

  Rylie’s heart skipped a beat. “No!”

  Biting down on Seth’s calf, Jericho turned at the sound. There was more intelligence in his eyes than there had been for Cassidy. She was nuts, but he knew exactly what he was doing. He was just as human as he was monster, and that was even more terrifying than the younger werewolf had been.

  “Let him go,” Rylie ordered, voice trembling. She got up, keeping her weight on her good ankle.

  Jericho growled, baring his teeth around Seth’s leg, and he backed away without dropping it.

  It was a challenge. He was daring her to follow him, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to take him on unless she was a wolf, too—and once she changed, she probably wouldn’t want to fight him.

  In the early years, he is the most mindless, the hungriest, and he knows insatiable hunger…

  Rylie couldn’t let Jericho take Seth. She moved to follow, but a strange feeling seized her when she stepped out of the shelter of the trees. It was a strong, low cramping in her chest and belly.

  The transformation.

  “No,” she whispered.

  As she watched, ripples ran down her skin and left goose bumps in their wake. It was like the fur was growing inside of her. It was fighting to push its way out.

  Claws erupted from her fingertips, and Rylie shut her fists tight. She squeezed her eyes closed.

  Focusing on her mental image of her own reflection—a leggy, pale girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, not gold like the wolf—she fought to concentrate on everything human.

  Her clothes. The city. Her mom’s condo. School.

  When she opened her eyes again, her skin had stopped rippling.

  She stared at her hands until her claws grew thin and became fingernails again.

  Rylie forced herself to take deep even breaths. She wasn’t going to become something evil. Seth wanted her to fight it, so she would.

  Even if it left her helpless to save him.

  The Third Werewolf

  Rylie sat beneath the boulder, hugging her knees to her chest. She could feel the moon fighting against everything that made her human to free the beast inside. She shivered and poured sweat at the same time. Her teeth chattered. She dug her fingernails into her shins to keep holding on.

  Seth was at Jericho’s mercy. She was the only one who could save him, but she was a failure, crying helplessly in the darkness.

  She forced herself to her feet and stumbled back to camp. Everyone was still locked in the recreation room. By the time she found the mess hall, she could barely see through the moon’s haze clouding her vision.

  Even though the moon was dark, it felt like she burst with its silver light. Rylie’s veins pulsed with its fire. It pressed against her bones, straining against her muscles and fighting to break free of her flesh.

  A wolf howled on the mountain. Jericho was taunting her. He wanted her to change.

  “No,” she whimpered through grit teeth. “No.”

  Rylie was burning up. The fire was going to consume her.

  She shut the door to the mess hall and wrapped her arms around her body. There was nothing she could do now but wait for morning.

  And why not? Everyone was safe.

  Everyone… except Seth.

  “He’s a werewolf hunter,” she whispered to the darkened mess. “He would kill me. I shouldn’t…” A spasm rocked her, and she groaned, shutting her eyes. “…I shouldn’t even care about him.”

  But she did.

  She dug her nails into the windowsill and pressed her forehead against the glass. It was Seth’s voice that called to her from within. Fight it…

  It was what he wanted. He didn’t want her to risk herself by saving him. Rylie was just following his orders.

  Fight it…

  With her eyes shut, she could almost make out her dad’s face. It was broad and friendly. He was smiling at her even though she was becoming something terrible.

  What would he want her to do? Would he want her to hide when she could save someone’s life?

  Rylie remembered sitting with him on their porch swing the week before camp started. His arm was warm over her shoulders and they were sharing a bag of popcorn.

  “You’re strong, pumpkin,” he told her, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Stronger than your mother and me combined. I need you to be brave this summer. It’s only going to get harder before it gets better.”

  She had been angry at the time. How could she be brave when her world was falling apart? Rylie felt like she was losing her family, and it was the worst thing she could have imagined.

  That was before Camp Silver Brook and the attack. Before she found out there were worse things to lose than her parent’s marriage.

  I need you to be brave.

  He wouldn’t have wanted Rylie to hide.

  “I don’t want to be evil, dad,” she whispered.

  He was replaced in her mind by Louise. Not the awful, mangled body she had seen earlier that night—the smiling counselor that reminded her of a gym teacher.

  She recalled their conversation the night Rylie stole the keys to the SUV. The werewolf thing—that was a deal between the humans and the animal gods. It was a blessing meant to bring man and nature together. It ended the war.

  Somehow, Rylie didn’t think that Louise would have thought her to be evil.

  But how could it be a blessing?

  She considered the question. Being bitten by a werewolf had made her stronger. She wasn’t the weak, whining thing she had been at the beginning of the summer. Three months of partial transformations might have been difficult, but it had also made her a better person. Rylie liked who she was becoming.

  Maybe she wouldn’t go home. She didn’t want to anyway, since she couldn’t go home to her dad or any of her friends, who had to know what happened at The South Den by now.

  Rylie could move away and live alone using her father’s money. She could make her own future.

  And now Seth was in danger. Maybe he would hunt her, but maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t change anything about the time they had spent together. He was a good person at the core—better than Jericho. Rylie loved him. It was crazy to love someone sworn to kill you, but she couldn’t help it.

  Seth wasn’t just the only good thing about camp. He was the best thing left in her life.

  He would die if she didn’t intervene, and the only way she could save him was by embracing the wolf.

&n
bsp; She opened the door and stepped into the night air, facing the peak where Jericho must have taken Seth. They would be at the top, at the temple where the animals communed with the gods. Rylie was sure of it.

  “I’m going to save him,” Rylie said. She wasn’t sure who she wished could hear her—Seth, Louise, or her dad.

  For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel alone.

  Rylie stripped off her clothes and let go.

  At first, it seemed like nothing would happen. All the muscles in her body relaxed. The piercing pain in her skull subsided.

  Instead of the wolf fighting its way out, Rylie felt like her human self melted away, allowing the beast to emerge. The bones of her skull crunched and cracked. The skin stretched over her protruding jaw. Fur blossomed down her shoulders.

  The mind of the animal came to the forefront, numbing the pain as her knees reversed and her spine elongated. It’s not as bad as you thought, Seth, she wanted to say, but Rylie no longer had lips with which to speak.

  She waited to disappear from herself and fade into the background of a wild mind as she had on every moon beforehand.

  It didn’t happen.

  The wolf was there. It processed the overwhelming input from smells and sounds as it licked its paws and considered the human blood splashed on the ground. But Rylie was there, too. She thought the same thoughts and felt the same things.

  It took her a moment to realize that Rylie and the wolf were one and the same. They weren’t separate creatures at all.

  She didn’t have time to examine her new, full-wolf body, or how strong and hungry she felt. She couldn’t fear for her humanity. She couldn’t wonder what was going to happen to her on every moon to come. Rylie focused on the thing that had inspired her in the first place: Seth. She needed to save Seth.

  Throwing back her head, she loosed a howl that she knew Jericho would hear.

  I am coming.

  ***

  The peak of the mountain was draped in darkness.

  Seth struggled toward consciousness as he was dragged across the ground. His leg was in so much pain it had gone numb. His rifle dragged behind him by the shoulder strap, and dirt inched past his face. Mud smeared up his cheek and into his hair.

  He tried to focus his bleary eyes. The haze of pain almost kept him from making out the massive teeth clamped on his leg and the feeling of immense pressure where jaws pressed his armor against him.

  Seth was a few layers of fabric away from being cursed.

  He reached for his gun. His head swam and his hands were clumsy, so he couldn’t grip anything. Jericho pulled him onto a stone surface and released Seth’s leg, then took the rifle in his mouth and tossed it aside.

  “You should run,” Seth mumbled. “I’m going to kill you.”

  He realized it didn’t sound threatening, but he had to try. Jericho let out a cruel, laughing yip.

  Shaking his head to clear it, Seth examined his surroundings. Stone pillars towered above him, forming a ring. There were no other mountains in sight. He was at the very top of Gray Mountain.

  Seth had read all the legends from his family’s books, but he never believed it was real, even though he spent half the summer looking for it.

  The temple.

  Jericho was even more intimidating as a wolf than as a human. His dark form silhouetted against the stars was like a black hole. A chill ran over Seth when he realized the werewolf was examining him. Jericho was trying to figure out why he hadn’t torn through Seth’s clothing.

  But he wasn’t attacking. He was waiting.

  For what?

  Jericho strolled away, staring at a starless patch of sky.

  Seth wasn’t safe yet. Just because Jericho hadn’t bitten him didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He searched the dark mountaintop for his rifle and saw it wedged between two boulders further down the slope.

  He tested his legs by trying to get onto his knees. They wouldn’t support his weight. Seth had sprained something—maybe even broken a few bones. But he needed his gun.

  It was so quiet on the top of the mountain. All he could hear was the cold, gusting wind. His hands slipped on ice as he began to drag himself toward his rifle. Seth wasn’t dressed for such high elevations. His fingers were losing sensation.

  Jericho only needed two steps to cross the distance between them. He shoved Seth with his muzzle to keep him from the gun.

  Seth shoved back, pushing his face away, but Jericho only nudged him again. It was like the werewolf was toying with him. “Are you waiting for Rylie?” Seth demanded, his breath fogging the air.

  Jericho’s head tilted to the side. His hot breath stank of rotten meat and his fur smelled like mud.

  “She won’t come,” he went on. “She’s too strong to transform.”

  The werewolf didn’t react. Seth moved experimentally toward his gun again, but a heavy paw crushed his chest. Jericho’s weight bore down on his ribcage and he gasped at the pressure. The message was clear: Don’t move.

  Jericho turned to stare at the moon again.

  “She’s not coming,” Seth insisted.

  He unhooked the knife from his belt. If he could just provoke Jericho into attacking, maybe he could get at his weak underbelly. It was his only chance. Seth wasn’t ready to die.

  “You were going to try to change everyone at camp, weren’t you? Nobody you bit has survived and everyone else got to safety where you can’t reach them. All you have left is Rylie, but she’s not going to transform tonight.” Seth could only pray it was true.

  Jericho began to pace. Each time his paws hit the stone, it sounded like a sandbag falling. He had to have been the biggest werewolf Seth had ever seen.

  “I killed your pup,” Seth said. “You’re alone now, and nobody will ever come back to these camps. You failed.”

  Jericho finally returned his attention to Seth. His teeth were bared and his hackles rose as he stalked toward the hunter. Seth flipped the knife around in his hand and braced himself for the attack.

  But it never came.

  A second dark shape appeared on one of the highest pillars, gazing down at them. Its fur glowed gold in the starlight.

  Seth’s heart plummeted into his gut.

  Rylie.

  The two werewolves studied each other from a distance. Jericho’s fur smoothed and his tail swished once. He gave an inquiring yip, as though to ask if she was on his side. It was almost a sad sound. Seth wondered if he was upset about losing his pup.

  He held his breath waiting for Rylie’s response. Jericho yipped again. Rylie growled, and Jericho’s fur stood on end.

  She leaped down. The wolves collided like two fronts of a storm.

  Rylie landed on Jericho’s back, and her claws raked red stripes down his spine. He freed himself of her in a flash. They didn’t play around—they were both out for blood.

  They crashed together. Jericho’s teeth tore at Rylie’s ear. She buried her claws in his belly. They rolled and fell, hitting the rocks below.

  Seth didn’t stop to watch. He hurried toward his rifle, dragging himself as quickly as he could across the slick ground with a lame leg. Every little motion sent pain rippling anew through his body, but there was nothing more motivational than knowing he was stranded alone with two bloodthirsty animals.

  A furred body tumbled past him. Seth couldn’t tell which one it was. He buried his knife in it, and the responding howl was deeper than Rylie’s growls. Jericho jerked the knife out of Seth’s hand, the blade trapped between his ribs.

  The werewolf barely noticed it. He hurtled toward Rylie again, limping slightly on one side.

  She leaped onto one of the pillars, and then to another. Jericho followed.

  Seth’s freezing fingers wrapped around the barrel of his rifle, and he pulled it out of the rocks. It was banged up from having been thrown aside. He fumbled for the silver cartridges in his pocket.

  A strangled scream reached Seth. He knew he shouldn’t have been afraid for Rylie—it was too
late for her now—but he felt sick to see Jericho’s jaws buried in her throat. Her cries were strangled and raw.

  Having her windpipe torn open barely phased her. Jericho was older and stronger, but Rylie had all the fury and energy of a new werewolf on her side.

  She jerked free and snapped at the side of his face.

  Seth’s fingers trembled as he loaded the bullets into the bottom of his rifle. He needed at least two rounds. He didn’t want to think of how he needed to use them.

  He raised the barrel to aim. They were atop the pillars now. Too far away to hit. Seth held it steady, waiting for them to come closer.

  Rylie tore into Jericho’s belly, and his head swung around to bite her. He was losing blood. Sluggish. She had all but gutted him.

  It was almost too awful to watch. Jericho staggered. He nipped at her remaining ear, but the fresh blood was quickly lost amongst everything around Rylie’s throat. They wavered atop the rocks, two silhouettes at a standstill against the stars.

  With a final burst of energy, Rylie jumped forward and knocked into his side.

  Jericho tumbled off the pillar of rock and landed on the slope near Seth with a sick crunch.

  Dropping down, Rylie stumbled and barely caught herself. Her teeth were bared for another bite—but Jericho’s back was twisted at a strange angle. His mouth hung open and there was nothing in his eyes. His forepaw twitched once.

  Seth fired from his position on the ground. The slug buried in the wolf’s carcass, but Jericho didn’t react.

  She had killed him. Rylie had killed Jericho.

  Seth stared between the two werewolves. Rylie dipped her head to sniff the body and licked her nose as though to taste his odors. The fur over her shoulders smoothed.

  He fired a second time. Rylie flinched, but this shot wasn’t aimed at her, either. Seth hit Jericho again to make really sure he was dead. He would take no chances with an animal that big.

  Now that adrenaline was fading, Seth’s twisted leg throbbed. He couldn’t shake the memory of being dragged through the forest like a prize.

  Rylie turned her stare from Jericho to Seth.

  She took a step forward, and he tried to get to his feet again, but his leg collapsed under him. He sat down hard.