by Tally Adams
Amber emerged from somewhere to stand behind her father. Her lips parted eagerly; almost seductively, at the promise of violence and death building between the men. There was something about her expressions that made her face look almost inhuman. Her eyes; the only thing about her that resembled her sister at all; were wide and hungry.
Paoli found he was sickened by her excitement. She was such a stark contrast to Emily, who was gentle and loyal to a fault; or Lyric, for that matter; who had seen the darkness in him—the part he couldn't even face himself—and had simply accepted it and dismissed it, as though it was of no consequence.
"You will bend to me," Lycaon roared suddenly, standing so forcefully his throne flew across the stage to slam into the wall, feet away. He stalked toward William, his face a mask of fury. With a growl, he shoved his arm against William's mouth. "Accept your place, Executioner," he commanded.
William's eyes sparkled with the promise of retribution. He turned his head away, his gaze colliding with Paoli's. Lycaon looked back and forth between them and took a step back. His face slid into a smile that sent a shiver of premonition down Paoli's spine. "That's right," Lycaon said with some satisfaction. "I have the means to persuade you." With a snap of his fingers, Amber was at his side. "Get the dagger," he commanded.
Paoli noticed the slight tightening around William's mouth, but he made no other sign he'd heard the order. Chains began to rattle as Empusa or Sekhmet fought their bonds, but Paoli ignored them and continued to hold William's gaze; trying to convey without words they should hold the course, no matter what. William accepting Lycaon's demands could very well have catastrophic consequences that no one's life was worth.
"You might recognize this dagger," Lycaon said when Amber returned with the blade.
Paoli glanced at it and, sure enough, it was one of the knives William had used on Lycaon's guards the last time they saw him at the Coven. He found himself staring at the silver, watching the light roll off the metal as Lycaon made a show of turning it this way and that while he continued to address William.
"Either you submit, or we start causing pain until you do," Lycaon was saying. "Either way, the end result will be the same. The only question is how much you want to suffer beforehand."
William turned his attention back to Lycaon and gave him a level stare.
Lycaon gave a long, theatrical sigh. "Very well," he said. He stepped in front of Paoli and buried the knife deep in his groin. A sickening pop sounded as the blade cut through and severed a major artery.
Paoli had known it was coming. The game of using him to manipulate William had been a staple of the Coven's control for centuries. Even being braced for it, however, didn't take away from the burn of having silver inside his very bloodstream or the sharp pain as the knife cut into him. Warm blood gushed from the wound with every beat of his heart and his body started to cool alarmingly fast. He tried to block out the pain, willing himself to remain calm so William could, too. "It's all right," he said to William, but his words sounded slurred and disconnected; like he was speaking inside a barrel. His field of vision was growing more and more narrow. He licked lips that were suddenly bone dry and turned to look at William, who met his gaze with a tortured expression.
"Paoli," he breathed.
Sekhmet and Empusa were still fighting the chains and screaming in impotent fury.
"No matter what," Paoli said, forcing the words out while he still could, "remember this is bigger than any one of us."
"Damn it, Paoli," William snarled. "Keep your eyes open."
Some of the languor seemed to be evaporating and it took a second for him to realize it wasn't in response to William's command. His legs started supporting him again and some of the fuzziness in his head seemed to clear. He closed his eyes in disbelief when it dawned on him the energy was coming from one of the two most hard-headed, stubborn women on Earth. Women who were supposed to be running like Hell in the opposite direction. If he survived this, he'd throttle them both, he decided. But even with all of Emily's effort—and he was sure it was Emily, thankfully—the stab to the other side of his groin caused more blood loss than even she could combat and darkness swallowed him as William's enraged cry echoed in his head.
Chapter Forty
Lyric sat atop Emily's wolf form with her gun in her hand and Emily's bladed staff hung over her back. They made several flying loops around the abandoned school where Emily's connection to William had led them. The property was edged by a few acres of overgrown woods situated on the outside of a town that was almost as run-down as the old school was.
Their first pass overhead revealed two large passenger vans parked in the back lot and three wolves lurking around; probably stationed as lookouts to give warning at the first sign of intruders. They'd been easily disposed of between Emily's claws and Lyric's clumsy use of her staff. As much as she preferred her gun, the sound was bound to draw attention they couldn't afford, so she'd been forced to make use of the only quiet weapon at her disposal.
Lyric's impatience continued to grow while they waited for what seemed like eternity. Finally, movement at the edge of the woods caught her attention and her heart leapt. She shifted around to see the area better and watched as more and more movement continued through the trees, going toward the school. Coming from the other direction, a separate group headed for the same destination.
"They're here," she said excitedly, wrapping her arms around Emily's furry neck. The Calvary had finally arrived. There was still hope.
Emily landed between the two groups and regained her human form with lightening-speed. She moved quickly to get everyone on the same page with the plan. The groups consisted of Jonathon and about two dozen werewolves on one side, and Michael with six vampires on the other. When they met up to enter the school together, the tension was almost palpable between them all. Jonathon's eyes were hard and distrusting when they landed on the vampires.
"We're working together in this," he said to Michael, his voice a dangerous hiss. "My wolves are used to moving together as a unit and will trust your people this night. I warn you all, though. If any of mine come to harm because of yours, Lycaon will be the least of your worries." While he didn't raise his voice, the threat was nothing short of a deadly promise.
Michael drew himself up in a dignified manner and met Jonathon's eyes. "The people I brought are trustworthy. Not all vampires are controlled by the hunger."
Lyric's own experience with Michael's vampires couldn't support his statement, so she wisely held her tongue. They needed the help of everyone for what they were about to attempt, and the only experience she had to draw from certainly wouldn't improve morale.
"If that's true, perhaps we can come to an agreement, after all," Jonathon offered.
"This night, at least, we all need to put our differences aside and focus on the goal," Emily cut in. "The two of you can discuss the future...you know...in the future. But time is of the essence. We're not sure how many we're up against. Our first priority is finding our flock. Everything else is secondary. If we can get Lycaon, great. If not, oh well. Ready?" She glanced around for agreement and held her hand out to Lyric, who took it and stepped beside her.
Together, they headed for a side door with the rest of their rescue party following close behind; Michael and Jonathon right on their heels. The door opened with a slight squeak of unused hinges, but no one was waiting on the other side when they entered the small classroom with surprising stealth, considering how many of them there were. They crossed the space to the inner classroom door and listened for a minute, trying to discern what lay beyond the wood.
Jonathon moved to the front of the group; a large knife in one hand. He gave a warning motion and turned the doorknob quietly. It opened into a corridor. Also in the hall, were a handful of werewolves they startled when they emerged from the room.
After a brief scuffle, Jonathon managed to use his dominance to stop one wolf in his tracks. The rest lay dead. Two of them had been drained by M
ichael's vampires, and the others had pools of blood spreading from under them. Lyric glanced at the vampire nearest her and had to suppress a shudder at the blood dripping from his chin. She reminded herself they were on the same side, but she moved to put a wolf between them, anyway.
"Where are your prisoners?" Jonathon demanded of the wolf he'd spared.
The man looked young; somewhere in his twenties. His baggy jeans and dirty shirt suggested he was probably one of the new wolves Lycaon had created. His eyes were wide and blank, held by the power of Jonathon's own. As if operating outside of his own control, one of his arms raised and pointed to a room down the corridor; on the other side of an open area where three different halls intersected.
"Sit down quietly and don't get up again tonight," Jonathon ordered the wolf, and enough energy flowed from him that Lyric could swear she tasted it on the air. Amazed, she watched as the man did exactly as instructed; sitting right down on the floor at their feet.
Emily rushed forward but Michael grabbed her arm and halted her. "Every one of those hallways might have another group. We need to proceed with caution," he whispered.
"I'll go first and see what we're facing," Jonathon said, stepping in front of Emily and urging her to get behind him as they moved forward.
Lyric followed Emily, and the rest of them brought up the rear. When they got closer, they were able to see the hall on their left was empty. The one on the right, however, had two werewolves stationed beside a closed door that clearly led to a gymnasium. There was no way to get to them before they cried a warning through the door and rushed to meet them, taking wolf forms as they came.
"Get to your pack!" Jonathon called urgently, turning to meet their enemies as the gymnasium doors opened and pandemonium reined. Werewolves in both forms burst into the hall, all closing in on their group. Vampires closed rank around Jonathon's people to protect them, and Lyric and Emily took off behind the battle to get to the other hallway. Metal sang and snarls and hisses filled the air as the battle raged, but they were both too focused on their goal to notice.
Chapter Forty One
The door was secured with a large, ancient-looking lock. It was an ornate thing, complete with elaborate etching and carvings. But, old as it was, they had no chance of breaking the metal. Lyric looked around, hoping for an old hook with a set of keys on a round hoop; like the one that always happened to be nearby when needed in movies. In reality, however, they had no such luck.
"Shit!" Emily hissed, jerking on the lock pointlessly.
"Emily?" William's voice came through the door amid a rattle of chains.
"We're here, William," she called back. "Is everyone all right?"
"What the hell are you doing here?" his voice demanded. He sounded truly angry, which sparked Lyric's temper in response.
"We got tired of braiding each other's hair," she snapped loudly. "So, we decided to save your asses, instead."
In spite of the situation, Emily smiled and rolled her eyes. "We can't get through the damned lock on this door. I don't suppose you know where the keys are?"
"We're chained to the fucking wall in here," Empusa snapped tersely. "How the hell would we know that?"
"Take Lyric and get out of here, now!" William demanded, and Lyric was sure she tasted power on the air this time, along with a slight ruffle of breeze that crossed her cheeks.
Emily's eyes shone bright gold and angry. "Don't you ever try that on me again," she snarled, her voice pitched deep and dangerous. Her wolf's version of speech.
"Is Paoli all right?" Lyric cried, desperately hoping for the sound of his voice.
Silence came back to them. Finally, William answered in a voice thick with emotion. "We don't know."
Which was all Lyric needed to hear for her to lose her grip on reason. She turned and headed toward the chaos that was dying down. Emily hurried to her side, her footfalls echoing hurriedly. "What are you doing?" she asked in an urgent whisper.
"I'm going to demand the keys and get to Paoli," Lyric responded determinately.
Emily gave her a long, searching look and nodded, falling into step beside her. Together, they pulled their weapons and headed toward the gymnasium. With the number of wolves that poured from that room, there was sure to be someone in there with answers.
Lyric's gaze swept the hall. Bodies lay everywhere, but there was no sign of Lycaon amidst the carnage. Four of Jonathon's wolves lay wounded along one wall with Jonathon himself fighting in front of them, protecting them from the last few attackers still standing. Half a dozen other battles were still happening, but the majority of it was over.
Without hesitation, Lyric headed right into the fray and maneuvered through the battling men toward the door behind them. She was quite certain the keys would be wherever Lycaon was, and she was determined to find him. It didn't occur to her to worry about coming face-to-face with the oldest werewolf on the planet. All she cared about was getting her hands on those keys.
When she reached to push the door open, Emily gripped her wrist and motioned for her to follow Emily through the door. With the briefest hesitation, Lyric stepped behind her and waited to move forward; into the room where the king of werewolves was sure to be.
"My Emily, how you've grown," was the greeting that met them when they stormed through the door. It wasn't a man's voice, however. Instead, it was the same voice Lyric had heard over the phone.
Emily tensed, coming to an abrupt halt. "Amber," she said on an exhale. "Where's Lycaon?"
The room was empty except for the dark-haired woman facing them from across the expanse of school gymnasium. It had been redecorated, though, and no longer resembled its original purpose. Only the gleaming, polished floor remained untouched. The stage was now covered with furs and tapestries draping the walls. Against one wall stood an ornate throne made of dark wood, replete with carved wolf heads on the ends of the arm rests. Amber stood beside the throne that obviously belonged to Lycaon.
Humorless laughter that graded on nerve endings echoed from the walls. "Lycaon?" Amber asked condescendingly. "He left the moment battle broke out. He didn't live this long by standing on principle, you know?"
"And he left you all alone among his enemies? That sounds about right," Emily sneered, continuing to move toward the stage with Lyric right beside her, until they were within feet of the raised area.
"He knows you won't hurt me, no matter how angry you might be," Amber said, a slightly defensive note to her voice. "And what are you doing, still alive?" she asked, turning her attention to Lyric. "Two wolves should have been more than enough to finish you, or, at least bring you here, for Lycaon to do it himself."
Lyric didn't respond. She met the other woman's gaze with as much loathing as possible, but didn't answer the question. She'd been right. This was the woman who'd plotted to have her killed. It seemed surreal, looking into the eyes of someone who'd ordered her death. There was no fear; just a calmness that settled over her.
"And now the two of you have come to save the day?" Amber went on. "I must say, Paoli held more blood than one might expect." She gestured to one side of the stage, where chains sat piled on the floor and a large puddle of blood was slowly gelatinizing, though it ran down the stage and onto the floor below.
Lyric's attention was riveted to the liquid now that it had been brought to her attention. Paoli's blood. Amber was right; there was a lot of it. Far more than a person could stand to lose. She pushed back the panic, reminding herself he wasn't a person. Not a human person, at any rate. The fact that she was still alive meant he must be, too. Didn't it? Sekhmet's words that their connection hadn't been completed and therefore no one really knew what to expect came back to haunt her. What if he was right, and the fact that Paoli had opted not to fully connect them meant she could live, even if Paoli didn't?
"You bled him?" Emily snarled, her eyes flashing with a murderous light. "Why?"
"Lycaon needs a willing bond with William. Think of it as incentive to cooperate," Amber sa
id, unconcerned. "But it was quite a scene to behold. You should have been here to watch the look on your dear William's face when his mentor collapsed."
"Where are the keys?" Lyric demanded, bringing Amber's attention back to her.
"Do you mean these keys?" Amber asked mockingly, producing a small set from her pocket and giving them a little shake so they rattled tauntingly.
"Hand them over," Emily demanded.
"Or what?" Amber wanted to know. "You won't kill me, sister. And it's only a matter of time before my wolves rejoin me in here. I'm the princess of the immortal world now, after all. Wolves and vampires alike will follow my commands."
"You're insane," Emily hissed.
But Lyric was finished. She needed to get to Paoli. Now. If all that blood was his, he clearly needed help. She had no qualms about killing the lunatic in front of them. Paoli was all that mattered. While the other two women continued sniping at each other, she slid the gun from her waistband and took careful aim. The shot was loud in the large space, echoing back deafeningly and making her ears ring.
Emily cried out beside her, clasping her hands over her own ears. Amber was no longer standing upright. She was lying face-down on the furs; a dark stain spreading from under her. The keys lay just outside of the fingers on her right hand. Lyric didn't hesitate to scramble over the edge of the stage and snatch them up.
When she jumped back down, she found Emily staring at the body, transfixed. It gave Lyric pause and a pang of regret. Not for the life she'd just taken, but for the pain it was sure to cause Emily. The woman had been her sister, after all. "I'm sorry," she said somberly, meeting Emily's pained expression. "But we have to save the flock."
Chapter Forty Two
They raced back to the locked door and with breath held, tried the key. The lock opened with a click and the door swung easily forward. Lyric stepped into the space and gasped at the sight that met her eyes. William and Empusa were both suspended from the wall to their right; silver chains binding them. William's face was battered with blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. But his eyes were blazing with fury until he identified them. Empusa looked no better. His left leg was at an awkward angle, making her suspect it may have been broken.
