They chose a spot some yards away from the gate where they could see everything happening outside, but were out of immediate harm. She stayed next to Aidan on his request, keeping a worried eye on the road, until: "So … is there a reason why you smell like my brother?"
Gemma blushed, the question taking her by surprise. She glanced at Aidan, who was smiling warmly, as if it made him happy. "Yes, well, we’ve spent quite a lot of time together these past two days."
"That’s not it," he admonished her gently.
She shrugged, helplessly. "He says his wolf has put out a call for me."
Aidan’s face went blank and she feared the worst. Then a bright smile lit up his entire being and he grabbed her into a tight hug. "That’s wonderful!"
"It is?" She was having trouble breathing.
He put her back down, but he didn’t retreat. "Of course it is. I’ve waited for this to happen to him for a long time. You’ll make him happy."
She didn’t feel happy. "I’m not so sure about it."
That wiped the jubilant expression off his face. "Don’t you love him?"
She didn’t like upsetting him, but she couldn’t lie either. "I only met him yesterday. Of course I don’t love him." She liked him and fancied him, but love … didn’t that take time?
"Don’t vampires have anything similar to our call?"
"Yes we have the Hunger, though it’s mostly men who experience it. And it only leads to trouble."
"Yeah, it can do that." Not exactly a consoling statement.
A scout gave a signal, bringing the conversation to an end. Humans were approaching. "I really hoped I’d be wrong about this."
She could feel the humans before she smelt or saw them. The foul sensation preceded them and it had got worse. She upped her shields, but it didn’t help much. The wolves around her sensed it too. They got twitchy for no reason, their auras baring their teeth, growling silently.
It made her feel awful, but she couldn’t leave the wolves to deal with it. "Perhaps I should talk to them alone," she suggested to Aidan.
"Why?"
"I can shield myself against this sensation. You can feel it, can’t you?"
His face was set in grim lines. "Yes. Fine, but something tells me it won’t help." She was rather sure he was right. But she had to try.
A group of twenty or so humans approached the gate on foot. Though angry, they looked ordinary enough and there wasn’t a pitchfork in sight. She didn’t recognise all of them, but those she did, like old Mr Martin, weren’t acting like their normal selves. They weren’t sleepwalking exactly, or under hypnosis, but she had a notion that there was a presence operating them. And it was a malign one.
She walked to the closed gate and looked at the group through the bars. They paused a couple of yards from her and stood silently, staring at her with hostile but somehow empty eyes. They freaked her out.
If you can up the shields or do anything to keep that presence from influencing me, now would be a good time.
She had no idea what the Rider did, but the pressure on her eased a little. She didn’t dare to turn to the wolves to see how they were faring.
"Good afternoon." It couldn’t hurt to start with a pleasant tone. "How may I help you?"
"We want the sheep killers."
"And you shall have them. They are being apprehended as we speak." She saw no reason to deny them the pleasure of revenge outright.
"You’re harbouring them."
"No, I can assure you, they’re not here." But only blank stares met her words, as if she wasn’t getting through to them.
"Why would we believe you, vampire?"
Despite all the time she had never really wanted to be one, it was suddenly a source of pride. Anything to separate her from this lot. "Is there a reason you wouldn’t believe me? My sheep got killed too. I have no reason to hide the killers."
"Maybe you want them all for yourself so you can drink their blood."
Now there’s a thought.
"I’d rather drink swill."
"That can be arranged." The malign presence was bombarding her shields, getting stronger, penetrating them. The group—mob—pushed closer to the gate. She took an involuntary step back, and lifted her hands up, placating.
"Why don’t we just wait this out? It shouldn’t take long."
"We want in and we’ll come in now."
"That’s not possible," Aidan said, coming to stand next to her. He looked calm, but his aura was snarling.
His presence only provoked the humans. "One wolf is as good as another," the leader of the group said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a gun and took an unhurried aim.
Gemma froze for a second, her bones feeling like liquid ice. Then, desperate to prevent Kieran from losing another brother, she shot to action. She wasn’t a fighter, but she was a vampire. Her weapon was magic. She began to charm the man to changing his mind, putting everything she had into it.
But try as she might, she couldn’t get through the malign presence. Aidan wasn’t moving out of harm’s way either, and was staring at the man calmly, as if he didn’t believe he would shoot. Time seemed to slow down, the finger squeezing the trigger moving in slow motion towards the inevitable. Or was she moving faster than everyone else? She might have time to push Aidan out of the line of sight.
"You’ll die for all the dead sheep."
"No!"
A small form dashed along the wall and threw himself in front of the shooter just as he fired. There was blood everywhere when Vincent’s lifeless form dropped on the ground.
Chapter Nineteen
Kieran heard the shot half a mile from the main gate. The fight had been short and brutal, the outcome as predicted. Kieran had fought hard, despite having been shot in the arm—a stupidity his alpha hadn’t stopped yelling at him about.
The enemy clan was now Philippa’s concern, so he and Jamie had returned to the estate, only to learn about the angry mob. Kieran had rushed to the gate with Jamie without even pausing to have his wound tended. Gemma was there and nothing could keep him away.
The eerie silence that followed the shot was even worse than the loud bang. Strength left his legs, but he pushed the sensation away and started running as fast as he could, Jamie at his side. The alpha was stronger, and keeping the wound from bleeding had eaten into Kieran’s Might reserves, so Jamie soon pushed ahead. Kieran’s wound opened again, but he ignored it and only ran faster.
He came to a stumbling halt when he saw the scene at the gate. A group of dazed humans were guarded by soldiers barely able to contain their fury outside it. A man was lying on his face, trussed up. But he registered this only in passing, his attention claimed by the people inside.
Jamie’s broad back, as he leaned over a prone form; Gemma’s shocked, tearful face as she tried to tend to someone on the ground—and Aidan.
Kieran had seen that look on a man’s face once before. On his father’s, after Colm died.
Oh gods, no.
Kieran had no recollection of covering the last few yards to where Vincent lay and collapsing next to his brother. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Blood was gushing from Vince’s chest and Gemma was trying to stem it with someone’s shirt. How could there be so much blood? He was only a little boy.
He was alive, but only barely. He would need to shift to even have a chance, but he was too young for it. "He needs energy," Gemma stated, not taking her eyes off the boy and the wound she was seeing to.
Kieran didn’t hesitate. He began to pour Might into his nephew as fast as he could. Others around them did the same. Over and over again, he let his wolf aura dive into the prone form. On every return it was lighter, having shared energy with the boy.
"Kieran, I need you to stop," Jamie said, but he just snarled at his alpha. He could have his wound stitched at a hospital if needed.
"This is not helping," Gemma said after an eternity. "He’s not healing, we’re merely sustaining him."
"That’s goo
d enough for now," Jamie said. "That’ll buy us time so we can get him to a hospital."
"I could try to heal him," she suggested, hesitantly. Kieran shot her a sharp glance.
"You can do that?"
"I’ve never tried, but Mother could."
"Won’t that loosen your control of your other side?"
She shrugged. "It might. It might not even help. But I can’t just sit here and watch him die."
"Then do it," Aidan said fiercely. Kieran wanted to lash at his brother for asking that of her. But the desolate look on Aidan’s face made him keep his mouth shut. It didn’t mean he would let her do it alone.
"What do you need? Blood?"
"I’m good."
She removed the bloody cloth she had been pressing against Vince’s chest and blood began to flow more freely again. Then she placed her hands above the wound. She concentrated, her face tightening with the effort.
Whatever she was doing took a great toll on her. Sweat began to trickle down her brow almost immediately, and her breathing became more laboured. He moved to crouch behind her and put his arms around her. Instead of his nephew, he now gave what little energy he had left to her.
Their contact allowed him an insight to what she was doing, felt the energy she was pouring into the wound. It wasn’t cold anymore, it was vibrant and almost hot. And it was her, not the Rider. She wasn’t losing control.
The blood flow slowed and a thin film formed over the wound, temporarily sealing it. When that happened, Gemma collapsed against him, utterly exhausted. "I can’t do more. He needs a proper healer."
"Let me try."
A deep voice high above her brought Gemma back to her surroundings. She was astonished to see how many people were gathered around them on both sides of the gate. The police had arrived in the form of Philippa and Adrian, and with them a couple of Circle warriors.
A huge, black-haired warrior so beautiful it was ridiculous scaled the gate effortlessly and crouched next to her. Kieran growled, but she was too tired to care. She just schooched closer to him, allowing the warrior access to Vincent.
Kieran pulled her into his arms and she sank into them, unable to support herself. Healing had sucked every ounce of energy out of her. But if it helped, it would be worth it. It hadn’t been easy and she wouldn’t be tempted to try it on little scrapes, but she wasn’t terrified of it anymore. Although, if it meant witnessing bright, lively Vincent all but dead, she would be glad if the opportunity never rose again.
Healing hadn’t come easily to her. Neither she nor the Rider had known exactly how the healing magic worked. But they had refused to give up—the first time ever that her two natures were in perfect accord over something—and they had managed to stem the wound. But it wasn’t enough.
The bullet had pierced Vincent’s lung. He would need extensive care or a master healer. She hoped the warrior was one. He seemed to know what he was doing, which wasn’t easy for her to acknowledge after a century of regarding them as brutal killers. Outwardly, he wasn’t doing things differently, although he wasn’t straining himself as badly as she had. That wasn’t a wonder. His shields low, she’d got a good sense of his age, and he was old.
It took forever, but little by little Vincent began to breathe more easily and the horrible gurgling sound that had accented every shallow pant he took receded. But the warrior wouldn’t stop and the exertion was beginning to show on his face.
"That’s as much I can do," he finally said, wiping his brow. "We have to get him to my father. He’ll be able to heal him properly."
Everyone shot to action so fast that Gemma had trouble keeping up. Aidan lifted Vincent to his arms and carried him to his car. The warrior followed them in, continuing with the healing. Kieran got up too and pulled Gemma to her feet, steadying her when her legs wobbled under her.
"I’m driving," he said to his brother as he escorted Gemma to the front seat.
"Are you able to?" Aidan asked from the back seat when Kieran got behind the wheel and started the engine.
"Hell yes." He shook his arm and then grimaced in pain. Gemma only then noticed the wound that had bled through his clothes, the smell of blood having been masked by Vincent’s injuries before.
"You’re hurt!" Belated fear hit her so hard her breath caught. She lifted a shaky hand over the wound and started healing it, directing what little energy she had left into it. Scrape it might be compared to Vincent’s injury, but she couldn’t bear the thought that he would be hurting.
A mental image of his injury revealed what was wrong and it was easier to figure out how to fix it now that she had some practice. Her waning strength didn’t allow proper healing, but at least the bleeding ceased. Spent, she let her hand drop. Kieran took it in his, steering the car out of the gate with one hand, the people outside it parting to make way for them. His warmth felt wonderful and she closed her eyes to better enjoy it.
She startled awake when the car stopped. They were outside a tall brick wall, older even than the one surrounding the clan estate, but there was no gate. Jasper had appeared from somewhere and he took the wheel while Kieran slid into her seat, pulling her onto his lap.
Jasper gave them scarves and told them to cover their eyes. Too tired to ask why, Gemma complied. Then she snuggled against Kieran and closed her eyes again. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this exhausted.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled over again. "You can take the scarves off now."
Before she had removed hers, Aidan and the warrior were already exiting the car. Kieran got them both out fast too, and she followed him on clumsy feet. She didn’t have time to register the surroundings, she only saw a huge oaken door opening before them and the warm light of a fireplace glowing somewhere inside.
A grand hall, a dark and opulent baroque style room, followed by a hallway. They hurried down the hallway to a room that was in stark contrast to the hall, its colours light yellow, the furniture dainty Regency pieces that looked almost feminine compared to the heavy hardwood furniture outside.
Aidan carried Vincent to a sofa where a man was already waiting. Tall and sculptured, he would have made an impression even if he hadn’t been incredibly handsome, almost beautiful, though a scar that ran down his face from his temple marred his looks a little. But his looks didn’t matter. His impact on Might was so overwhelming that Gemma couldn’t turn her attention away from him. Not even when Kieran began to growl by her side.
"Dad," the warrior with them greeted the man. They looked so similar there was no question about their being family. But, like all vampires, they looked the same age, in their early thirties, making the father-son relationship less obvious.
"Clear the room, Zach," Lord Foley commanded curtly. His son obeyed, and despite Kieran’s protests, he and Gemma were herded out of the room and back to the grand hall.
"You can wait here by the fireplace. Father shouldn’t take long with the boy. I healed him quite a lot, but a lung is such a delicate organ. I couldn’t do everything." They must have looked unconvinced, because he smiled warmly, his face becoming almost angelic. "He is absolutely the best healer there is among our kind. You have nothing to worry about."
Gemma all but collapsed on a settee before the fireplace, and with a little coaxing managed to get Kieran seated too. "We might as well wait here," she said, smiling. "You found Lord Foley too much of a threat."
He pulled her into a hug, and pressed his face into her neck, holding her tightly for a long time, breathing in her scent. "I’ve missed you. We’ve been apart for too long today. It makes me less able to resist the urges of my wolf." He kissed her and she kissed him back with all the worry she had felt for him that day. She didn’t want the moment to be marred by the past or her fears.
She didn’t succeed. "I wasn’t good enough," she said miserably, when he ended the kiss an eternity later. He leaned back, baffled. Then he smiled.
"It was a perfect kiss. But if you like, we can practise some more."
She smiled too, but then she shook her head. "No, I was unable to charm the shooter to put the gun away."
He sobered instantly. "Are you generally able to charm humans into doing what you want?"
"Of course. But there was this presence…" She shuddered and he pulled her closer to his warmth again. Even wedged between the blazing fire and him, she felt cold. She was low on Might energy. She needed blood. "I couldn’t get past it. It was horrible. Evil."
"It’s black magic." Zach had returned without either of them noticing. He smiled when they startled. "There’s this entity able to wield demonic magic. They’re able to affect humans with it just as we are able to charm them. At best—or worst from our point of view—charm isn’t enough to counter it. There was nothing you could have done."
She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she could believe him. "It felt awful."
"It is awful. And a clear indication our enemy was behind this after all."
"There you have it then," Kieran said. "Not your fault."
"Not this time. At least Vincent didn’t die."
His face drew into a mask of grief, for Vincent or for Colm, she didn’t know. Before he was able to say anything, Zach spoke.
"Your nephew is fine. Dad was able to fix what I couldn’t."
The wave of relief from Kieran was tangible. He sagged against her and she held him until he was able to straighten again. "Can we see him?"
"Absolutely. Dad’s not there anymore," Zach added with a wink.
They got up and were about to follow him when the front door opened. A huge warrior almost identical to Zach stood in the doorway, his black hair braided in a tight cue at his back, his face beautiful but stern, his bearing powerful.
The moment she saw him, Gemma was seized by an overwhelming fear. She knew that warrior. He was the one who had taken Mother away.
Instantly, irrationally, convinced that he was here to take her away too, she panicked. Her heart began to beat erratically and she started to hyperventilate. She barely felt Kieran’s hands trying to calm her, barely heard his soothing words.
A Wolf of Her Own Page 14
