by Tally Adams
If anything happened to him because she was hiding-
Swallowing hard, she pushed the thought away, refusing to even consider the possibility.
At the edge of the tree line, she could look to her left and see the gas station parking lot. There was the green truck, right where it had been for the better part of an hour now. She couldn't tell if the two men were still in it from this distance; let alone if they were looking her way. Deciding there was no help for it, she dashed from her cover and across the exit toward the underpass on the highway. She figured there was less chance of her being spotted running on the dirt slope than across the overpass, which was wide open.
What she hadn't anticipated was how steep the little hill was. Instead of the smooth flight she'd been expecting, she lost her footing and went head over butt all the way down, her purse still dangling from her arm and smacking her in the face as she rolled to a stop, landing on the shoulder of the highway with a thud.
She gasped to reclaim the breath that had left her about halfway down, and lay stunned until a car passed by close enough to blast her with wind. Scrambling to her hands and knees, she got her feet back under her and headed for the cover of the underpass, sure she was going to be bruised tomorrow.
Getting across the highway made her feel like the frog in that old arcade game, but she finally arrived at the other side and began the ascent up the hill she now recognized as a sneaky Himalayan. Leaning forward on her feet and hands, she made it about halfway when a shade of dark green passed by on the overpass, catching her attention. Her heart sank and a cold feeling settled into her chest.
Lyric paused for a better look and her worst fears were confirmed. Sure enough, it was the same damned truck. Hoping she hadn't been spotted already, she lay flat on her belly in the brush, hoping to blend in while it passed. But instead of driving by, the truck stopped on the overpass and a door opened.
She turned her face toward the sound without lifting her head and opened her eyes to find one of the men squinting at her, a menacing smile pulling the corners of his mouth. "Gotcha," he said. Before she had time to process it, he was no longer standing on the overpass, but had jumped the rail to drop the impossibly long distance and land directly in front of her.
From her position, she looked up past the name-brand running shoes and designer jeans to the man's face; looming over her in triumph; a dangerous, hungry look sparkling in his beady little eyes. Eyes that were the same inhuman gold she'd seen in William's. A gold that meant whatever lived within was looking out.
She groped on the ground when he grabbed the back of her shirt, praying for a miracle. A knife, a gun dropped by a local gang, or hey, since she was hoping for the absurd, how about a long sword made with a silver blade? While not fortunate enough to happen upon the perfect weapon to kill an immortal, her fingers did close around something.
"You're a slippery little bitch, aren't you?" the man gloated, dragging her up to dangle from his hand, her feet completely off the ground and her shirt nearly choking her.
Instead of trying to answer him, she used the stick now clutched in her hand and jammed it as hard as she could into his eye. With a howl of rage and pain, he dropped her and grabbed for the stick that was protruding grotesquely straight out of his face.
Lyric didn't take so much as a second to watch him stumble around. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was running with the speed of a terrified rabbit and never looked back. Somewhere in the back of her awareness, she heard the other truck door open and knew the second werewolf was on the move, but she didn't pause to see where he was headed. Every bit of her attention was focused on getting close enough to the motel to yell for help.
By the time she made it up the embankment and back onto flat road, her legs were burning in protest and her heart felt like it had taken up residence in her throat. She sprinted across the ground, her fear lending far more speed than normal and allowing her to cross the distance in record time. Just as the corner of the motel came into view, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her and knew she wasn't going to make it there.
"Emily, help!" she screamed at the top of her voice, still moving so fast her legs were nearly tangling together. Mid-stride, a strong hand grabbed her hair right at the scalp and brought her to a painful and sudden halt. She cried out in pain; little lights dancing across her vision as her wild flight hit an unexpected end. The man holding her jerked her head down and back, exposing her throat.
Then, with no sound at all, a huge red wolf bounded into the fray, knocking the man holding Lyric back a few steps. He didn't release his grip on her hair, so she stumbled back with him and lost her footing, which left her literally hanging from his hand by the hair of her head. A small gasp from beside them caught her attention, and Lyric turned her head just far enough to see a sight that left her mouth agape in horror.
The man who had jumped at her from the overpass was facing them, his own expression one of shock and disbelief. William stood behind him, pulling the man's head unnaturally far to one side, exposing the throat that William was drinking from. One of the hand sickles protruded from the man's chest, having been shoved all the way through from his back.
As she watched, the werewolf's legs buckled and William allowed him to fall to the ground into a crumpled heap. Blood dripped from the curved blade still clasped in William's hand. He didn't even acknowledge the body at his feet as he turned his attention to the man holding Lyric.
"We can settle this—" her captor began, but William flung out his arm and the hand sickle flew like a band-saw blade. With a ringing thump, it severed the man's head clean before landing with a clatter just behind him.
A dull thud sounded as the head hit the ground, and Lyric knew no more.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Paoli woke with a gasp, a panic that wasn't his own coursing through him. He immediately reached for Lyric and found...nothing. There was a blank where she should have been. His own panic began in the pit of his stomach and he was moving through the bus with all the speed he was capable of, heading straight for her motel door; begging fate to let her still be there, to let her be all right. He knew before he knocked the room was empty. The space where her car should have been sat like a beacon.
He reached for her again and still found only emptiness. Something was wrong. He knew she couldn't be dead, because he would have gone with her. Unless Sekhmet was right, and the fact he hadn't completed the blood bond meant their connection wasn't complete enough for that to happen. Was it possible?
"What's wrong?" Sekhmet asked, coming up behind him.
Paoli turned to face him, unaware his eyes were glowing a bright red and his face was twisted into the vampire's darkness. "I don't know," he answered, his voice strained. "Lyric's gone."
Sekhmet looked at him with concern, but he didn't fully understand. "She probably just went for food again, like yesterday," he said cautiously.
"That's not what I mean," Paoli snapped, stalking toward William's room to hammer on the door. "I mean she's gone. I can't feel her."
"All right," Sekhmet said placatingly. "Let's work on the problem together."
Paoli stared at him darkly. If he said one word about the blood bond right now, he'd tear him apart, limb from limb.
But instead, Sekhmet took a second to listen to William's door, then headed toward Empusa's. He returned to Paoli, now looking concerned himself. "Where is everyone?"
"I don't know," Paoli snarled. "But Lyric is not here," he tapped his forehead.
Sekhmet went still and gave a slight sigh. "I can feel them," he said in relief. "They're over there."
Paoli flew in that direction, unaware of Sekhmet right beside him. His only thought was Lyric. If something had happened to her-
They crested the hill and the sight that met his eyes sent him into a spiraling rage like he'd never known. Toward the bottom of the hill lay two decapitated bodies and Lyric—still as death—on the ground between them.
"Paoli, be cal
m," Emily said when he appeared at her side, standing over Lyric.
His attention cut to her and she gasped at whatever she saw on his face. "She's alive. I'm not sure what happened. We heard her call for help and we got here in time, but she collapsed."
Paoli knelt beside Lyric, mindless of the blood turning sticky from a dead werewolf. He watched her chest rise and fall with such relief, he found his hands trembling when he reached out to brush hair away from her face. His eyes skimmed her for injury, but he didn't see anything. While there was blood everywhere, none of it seemed to be hers.
"What was she doing here?" he asked in a thick, slightly choked voice.
"We don't know," William answered, stepping forward to take Emily's place while Emily stepped back between Empusa and Sekhmet. "We just heard her call for help and knew by her tone it was serious. When we arrived, she was being chased by these two." He gestured at the bodies. "We don't know where they came from, but they're not Jonathon's."
Paoli didn't give a damn who they were. He gathered Lyric into his arms and held her to him, trying to get himself back under control. He breathed her in, allowing her scent to calm him. She was alive. Nothing mattered to him, next to that. "Let me get her taken care of before we figure out what to do with these two," he said.
"Why don't you let me tend to Lyric?" Emily offered. "So we can get this cleaned up quickly."
Paoli hesitated, but realized she was right. With only slight reluctance, he handed Lyric over and turned his attention to protecting their people and their purpose. They were standing just out of sight of a major highway. Time was of the essence. If a human noticed the situation, they'd have to eliminate them and he did not want to go to Lyric with blood on his hands.
"Is there an abandoned church nearby?" Empusa asked.
"Or where is the Coven's closest crematorium?" William wanted to know. "Churches leave us too exposed."
"There are no crematoriums in this state," Empusa answered. "The closest one is in Arkansas, and that's hours away. I don't really want to spend that long in a car with these two, rotting away."
Sekhmet produced his cellphone and stared at the screen. "The nearest church is about ten miles that way," he said, pointing. "I have no way of knowing if it's abandoned or not, but take a look around. I'd say the odds are good."
They all agreed and Empusa pulled the bus as close to the small hill as possible. They wasted no time in loading the bodies and transporting them to the church that was, thankfully, abandoned. Paoli waited impatiently for the bodies to turn to ash, his mind far more focused on Lyric than the task at hand.
"She'll be fine," William said with a nudge to his shoulder after watching him brood. "I'm sure it was just shock and she'll come back around on her own. But we need to find a new location since our enemies have found us."
Paoli agreed absently, only half-listening. His mind kept replaying the vision of Lyric; lying lifeless in the grass with blood everywhere. He hadn't considered the risk to her during the day before now. While the sun was out, he couldn't protect her; couldn't keep her safe. The knowledge made him feel inadequate and selfish.
She was his. It was his job to ensure nothing could hurt her. And he'd failed. He'd failed so miserably, someone else had to step in where he couldn't. What if Emily hadn't heard her when Lyric cried out for help? The idea of what might have happened was beyond comprehension. He had to find a solution; to come up with a way to ensure this never happened again.
Chapter Twenty Nine
"Fainted," was the first word Lyric heard when she started to come to again. It took her a minute to recognize the speaker as Emily. "She's fine, Paoli."
"She wouldn't be lying unconscious if she were fine," Paoli bit out.
Lyric opened her eyes and blinked up at a strange ceiling. It was smooth and shiny and slightly curved. Turning her head toward the voices, she took in more of her surroundings and realized she was on the blood bus. Shelves lined the walls on one side, and beneath the rows of shelves was a long bench seat that ran from right behind the driver's area—where Sekhmet was at the wheel—to the stairs that marked the exit.
Paoli and Emily sat across from her on the bench seat, discussing her condition in low hisses.
Lyric propped herself up on her elbows and realized the bus was moving. Then she remembered what had happened and how she'd come to faint. She remembered William standing behind the werewolf, drinking his blood while a deadly blade protruded from the man's chest, and the sound of the other man's head hitting the ground like a melon. The memory was enough to make her almost faint again.
Paoli was suddenly sitting on the edge of the bench-seat she was lying on. He gently brushed the hair away from her face. His eyes were serious and concerned. "Don't try to move," he said.
She frowned at him impatiently. "I'm not dying," she said, pushing him back to sit up and swing her legs over the edge. It was a regrettable action, as sitting up caused her head to start aching. She pressed her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes for a second, willing it to go away. When that didn't work, she gave up with a sigh.
"Can someone get me up to speed, here?" she asked, gesturing around them at the bus.
Paoli was still sitting beside her, watching her with a hooded expression. Emily was across from her, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "After you fainted, we got the area cleaned up. We're a little fuzzy on the details, but it was clear the werewolves tracked our approximate location. Knowing that, we need to wrap up our business with the vampires and get the hell out of Dodge."
"What about my stuff at the motel?" Lyric asked, thinking of the gun she was just starting to get good with. "And my car?"
"William's driving your car, and we got everything from your motel room. Your bag is over there," Paoli said, pointing to the end of the bus where a mounted microwave sat above a small, office-sized refrigerator. Sure enough, her overnight bag and purse were there, propped against the wall.
"What happened?" Paoli asked, dragging her attention back to him.
Lyric launched into the story; starting with the phone call and ending with William decapitating her attacker. The longer she talked, the more thoughtful and concerned their faces became. "And I woke up here," she concluded, looking from one to the other while she waited for them to make sense of the ordeal.
"We'll need to explain this all to William," Emily said.
"This is alarming," Paoli mused aloud. "I wonder how they got your phone number."
"Forget the phone number," Emily said. "How did they track us? We don't exactly announce our location."
"You don't think it could have been one of Jonathon's wolves, do you?" Lyric asked, considering the three men who lurked with the alpha everywhere he went.
"It wasn't Jonathon's men," Emily said. "That's why William took his blood; to see if he could recognize anyone."
Lyric's eyes went wide. "He can track people through their blood?" she asked, amazed.
"Jonathon and his wolves all exchanged blood with William when they came to the motel. He'd recognize their mark on anyone now," Paoli said. "So we don't know who it was, for sure, but we know it wasn't any of Jonathon's men."
"Why would they have called and warned me?" Lyric said, thinking aloud. "If I hadn't gotten that phone call, I might not have even noticed those men."
"It wasn't a warning," Paoli said. "I don't think the two men were connected to the caller. Not directly, at least. I think the caller was Amber, and my guess is she and Lycaon are trying to set a trap, using you as the bait. Step one would be to get you really good and scared so you'd do something stupid. Lycaon knows our connection to you, and he knows I would go to any lengths to protect you, which he sees as a weakness. Plus, you injuring him would have been a blow to his pride. Getting his hands on you would be two birds with one stone."
Lyric fell silent, thinking. If Paoli was right, and Lycaon was trying to set a trap for her, that meant she was putting everyone in danger. If something happened to any o
f them because of her, she couldn't live with it. That was a guilt she couldn't even imagine. If they lost one of their own because Lycaon used her to get to them, would the rest of them turn on her?
Her face must have showed something, or maybe he was reading her emotions, because Paoli reached out with a thick finger and tipped her chin toward him, forcing her to meet his eyes. His touch was warm and reassuring. "I don't know what you're thinking, but stop," he said. "We're all pack here, including you. The pack will stand together because that's the whole point."
For an inexplicable moment, Lyric felt the sting of tears. She wasn't sure why, but the idea of belonging—really belonging—to a group who would live or die together meant more to her than she could have explained.
"Stop feeling all misunderstood," Sekhmet said from the driver's seat. "We're all a mess in our own way."
Lyric gave a watery chuckle and pulled away from the comfort of Paoli's touch. Her gaze fell on Emily, who was looking pensive until she noticed Lyric giving her a quizzical look. Her expression cleared and she smiled. "He's right," Emily said, glancing toward Sekhmet. "But together, we make a bad-ass rag-tag flock."
"You and that word," Sekhmet groaned. "I think you do it just to drive Empusa crazy."
Emily's smile turned into a grin. "Partly," she admitted. "But mostly, I do it to keep you men from taking yourselves so seriously. It's hard to be too serious as a flock."
"Where are we headed now?" Lyric asked the room at large.
"There's a vampire nest in the area we're going to visit before we decide where to park ourselves next," Sekhmet answered, his attention on the road in front of them. "We don't want to go too far away, since we're after Lycaon and he's obviously here."
"But we need to come up with a plan," Emily added, sitting back on her seat and turning to stretch her legs out in front of her on the seat. "We can't just keep bumbling around, hoping to find him hog-tied somewhere for us."
