Walking The Razor's Edge

by Ileandra Young

  ‘Really? These two were safe in our custody. A fine bargaining chip to use should Kallisto forget who and what we are. She orders Darryl to bring them here and an hour later we, the plebeian workforce, prance off to do the wet work. Now our one piece of leverage is gone and where is our strong, wise leader?’ Luke made a theatrical show of looking back and forth.

  Lenina glanced at Shawn. He shrugged. Though she scanned the surrounding area and sniffed the air she could catch no trace of the gold-toothed werewolf.

  Anger drained from the bigger man’s face. He ducked his head and actually bowed his shoulders, a fraction away from taking his knees. The submissive display made Lenina look again at Luke. He didn’t appear dangerous, with his round glasses, spotless tailored suit and clean nails. But his eyes . . . cold and heartless. In that moment, Lenina realised Darryl wasn’t the one to be afraid of.

  He continued speaking, his voice calm and reasonable with a hint of command. ‘Perhaps you should consider, as I have, that our alpha has his own agenda beyond the wellbeing of our pack.’

  ‘There is nothing beyond Pack. Pack is all,’ intoned Luke.

  ‘To you and I, yes, but to Darryl? You know how the Grandfathers feel about the blood-suckers, and yet here we are. Why? So he can prove a point. He’s playing a dangerous game and I for one have no desire to be one of his pawns.’ Luke stepped closer, actually chuckling when the large figure flinched. Slowly, he held up his hand, palm out.

  Mike stared at it for a moment before tilting his head back, exposing his throat. The frantic flutter of his pulse against his skin made Lenina sit up. Stomach growling with hunger, she watched Luke touch that pale flesh, dragging his fingernails along it before drawing away.

  Mike sagged as the fingers left his flesh. ‘So what should we do?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Luke swaggered to the pair on the ground and whipped off the first black hood. ‘Not yet.’

  Lenina gagged on a lump at the back of her throat. ‘No . . .’

  Shawn prodded her elbow. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s my brother.’

  In the parlour, Luke continued his calm, steady pacing, ignoring Jordan who groaned through a thick cloth gag. ‘We’re here now. Like it or not, we’ve all been made fools of. The most we can do is play out the rest of this little farce with open eyes and a shrewd mind, waiting for the right moment to strike back.’ He removed the second hood with a flourish.

  Lenina watched her mother blink at the sudden influx of light. Blink, shake her head, then glare at Luke. She grunted and squealed, thrashing against her bounds. Luke removed the gag.

  ‘Let us go. You can’t just scoop people off the street. Police will be looking for you—’

  ‘They won’t find us.’ He studied her face. ‘Not in time to do you any good.’

  Grace spat in his face.

  Luke snarled. He slapped her, a vicious backhand that sent Grace careening backwards, unable to catch herself. He followed, wiping spittle from his cheek. ‘Very soon I’ll be dealing with those who show me disrespect. Do not add yourself to that list, human.’

  Lenina was half way across the hall before she realised she’d moved. Her legs flexed of their own accord, taking her over the banister to drop into the space below while the colours before her grew bright and vibrant. By the time she slipped in behind Luke and kicked him in the back of the knees, she knew her eyes were blank and her fangs exposed.

  The werewolf fell with a yelp, twisting with his leg extended. She slid right, away from his line of sight and swivelled to glare at Mike who stood watching. ‘Don’t even dare,’ she said as he advanced.

  The huge man froze and lowered his head, raising both hands in a warding gesture. ‘Sorry, I—I won’t—’

  Lenina turned her back on him and crouched before her mother. As she spoke, she blinked away the bright colours and ran her tongue over the edges of her teeth until fangs no longer obstructed her. ‘Mum? It’s Lenina. Please look at me.’

  Though dazed, a spark of recognition flickered through Grace’s crossed eyes. ‘Nina? What are you doing here? I was so worried—’ she broke off, gasping with relief. ‘When your father told me about Nick—I didn’t know what to think—my poor, baby girl . . .’

  Something shifted behind her.

  Jordan’s eyes widened and he wrenched against his bonds with a deep bellow through his gag.

  Lenina threw herself across the floor. In the space she once occupied, Luke drew back his fist. He straightened slowly. Behind the glasses, his eyes gleamed gold. ‘You’re quick.’ He stepped back, putting a clear three feet of space between them. Though his expression was calm everything about his body language screamed tension. ‘Why aren’t you in your room?’ His gaze travelled up the stairs and along the mezzanine. ‘A gentle stroll with your human pet?’

  Grace worked herself back into a kneeling position, cutting across him with a terse, ‘Hey! Go after my daughter again and I’ll—’

  ‘What, exactly? In case the girl’s little show of bravado confused you, let us be clear: she’s a prisoner too.’ Luke jerked his head at Mike who lumbered forward with his hands outstretched.

  Lenina growled, too angry to be startled by the feral sound leaking from her lips.

  He stopped dead.

  ‘Nina . . .’ Grace paled. In the sudden still, the flutter of her heart beat ratcheted up. ‘What’s going on? Where’s Raymond?’

  Anger hit a wall and shattered. Beneath it, the icy layer of misery and guilt spread to consume everything. Her eyes prickled. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

  Luke laced his fingers and stretched them until they cracked. He didn’t smile or gloat, just crossed his arms and waited.

  ‘Lenina?’

  She closed her eyes. ‘He’s dead, Mum.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Silence filled the parlour, so thick and close it seemed a living thing.

  Lenina took a cautious step forward. Another. She put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. ‘Mum? Are you okay? Can you hear me?’

  She tossed her head. ‘Where’s Ray?’

  ‘Mum . . . didn’t you hear me? He—he’s dead. Darryl—the other werewo—these men killed him.’

  ‘No. No, he can’t be.’

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘What happened?’

  Lenina looked up at Shawn. He widened his eyes at her. Spread his hands.

  ‘They came to take me while I was at Ramona’s. He tried to stop them and . . . and they hit him. He . . .’ Words faded. Tears arrived.

  ‘Your husband had a heart attack, Mrs Miller.’ Shawn finally managed to speak. Apparently the role of rational voice brought him from his stupor. In that moment he sounded as he had the night before. He walked carefully down the stairs with his injured arm still pressed tight to his chest. He approached the small gathering, skirting wide to avoid the werewolves. ‘I’m very sorry.’

  Grace narrowed her eyes. Her gaze flicked up and down his body, then back to Lenina in immediate and obvious dismissal. ‘But where is he? Which hospital?’

  Silence.

  Lenina toyed with her fingers. How could she say it in a way her mother would accept? She recognised the stubborn tilt of her mother’s chin. The frown. She saw both often enough in the mirror.

  She sniffed, determined not to cry. Her fingers shook as she gripped her mother’s arm. ‘No, Mum. It doesn’t matter if he’s in a hospital, I saw what happened.’ Her voice cracked. For all her efforts to remain stoic, the pain bubbled up and over. She bit her bottom lip to stop it wobbling. ‘He’s gone.’

  Luke cleared his throat. ‘We’re searching the hospitals now. We’ll find him.’

  The wordless roar from Jordan surprised everyone. He wrenched forward on his knees, grunting into the gag until Lenina bent to remove it. His gasped, licked his lips, then glared. ‘What did you do?’

  She jerked back. The heat in his stare seemed to scald her skin. ‘What?’

  ‘This is because of you, right? That�
�s why you’re here already. What have you done that got Dad killed?’ Eyes narrowed to tiny slits, he spat the words as though they tasted bad.

  Lenina backed off again, too stunned to do more. Several swallows later she forced the words out. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen—’

  ‘You never mean for things to happen.’ Jordan thrashed against his bonds, wobbled, then stilled. ‘God, sis, it’s always something you’ve done, spent or said. He’s always bailing you out. Hell, he ran off to Leicester to find you and a day later we get kidnapped! What have you done?’

  ‘Jordan—’

  ‘No Mum! Even you wouldn’t tell me why Dad left—it was just “Lenina’s in trouble, he’s going to support her.” Is this trouble, Mum? Kidnapped by freaks with yellow contact lenses and a rope fetish?’ His chest heaved as he spoke, muscles on his neck standing out like thick cords.

  Grace narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s enough.’

  ‘It isn’t! And you know I’m right. Look at her, standing there crying like this isn’t her fault. She did something—didn’t you, Lenina? What did you do?’

  Luke stroked the sides of his mouth with the tips of his fingers. ‘I’d be interested to hear the answer myself. Tell them, girl. Maybe it will shut him up.’

  Lenina flinched as both her mother and brother looked her way.

  ‘Say something, sweetie. And your leg—what happened?’

  She brushed an absent hand over the ragged strips binding her knife wound. Over and over, her mind raced through dozens of explanations, all lies, all too far-fetched. More so than the truth. The wet glimmer in her mother’s eyes made the thought of lying sickening and her stomach writhed in complaint.

  She raised her hands, then let them drop.

  It took the smallest flex of will to bring her fangs forward, something she understood with an instinct she attributed to Saar. As they slid forward from her gum line, her eyelids tingled with the familiar intensity that heralded the change to her eyes.

  Mike shifted uneasily, turning to Luke for guidance.

  He didn’t move. His attention was on the humans, studying them with his hands folded tight across his chest.

  Grace spoke first; a soft, ‘Oh, God,’ quickly suppressed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Lenina.

  Jordan slumped back onto his heels. ‘Your face . . .’

  ‘I’m a vampire, Jordan. They’re werewolves.’

  ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘It is not “bullshit”, human.’ Kallisto appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down over the banister. Her hair, now loose from the two braids hung free around her shoulders. It made her look younger, more delicate. The expression in her eyes soon disproved the illusion. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  Mike immediately dropped to his knees, both hands hovering near his ears as if expecting a blow.

  Luke watched him for a split second before stepping past him with a faint tut of disgust. ‘We brought the humans, as agreed.’

  A long, pregnant pause.

  Lenina watched Kallisto, waiting for the explosion of rage. It never came. Instead, the Majestic sniffed and narrowed her eyes at the gathering in the parlour. ‘Why is the woman damaged?’

  ‘She struggled.’

  Grace turned a soft eye on the ancient god-touched. ‘Don’t worry, no one will hurt you. Has anybody hurt you?’

  Lenina winced. ‘Mum, she’s not a child.’

  ‘She can’t be more than six if she’s a day.’

  When Kallisto spoke next, it was with her old voice. Her real voice. The one that echoed with more than two thousand years of experience, pain, anger and blood lust. ‘You are my valued guest. Do as I say and your last hours will be not unpleasant.’

  Grace gaped. She looked at Lenina, then Jordan. Her shoulders straightened and, though her voice shook, the words she spoke were calm and clear. ‘Let my children go. Please.’

  Kallisto gave a flick of her hand.

  Mike reared from his kneeling position without even a glance at Luke. He hauled both Grace and Jordan to their feet and shoved them towards the stairs with a gruff, ‘Move!’ Though Jordan walked easily, stunned and docile, Grace wriggled and twisted against his hands. She shouted, stamped, reared and kicked. After ducking an impressing kick at his crotch, Mike ducked and heaved her over his shoulder, gripping her by the bound wrists. The other hand he used to guide Jordan up the long stairs and off through the arch on the right.

  Lenina’s feet itched with the need to follow.

  Kallisto approached using the other staircase, trailing her hand along the banister. She stopped only when the toes of her soft slippers touched those of Lenina’s scruffy, blood-splattered trainers. ‘You have already lost,’ she said. ‘Do not fight me.’

  A chill raced through Lenina’s body. ‘But the Fang—you said you needed the dagger—’

  ‘A mere symbol. While it would cement the truth in the eyes of the other Majestics, I need no such proof—I see my lost father in your eyes, Lenina Miller. You are the one.’

  The passion of her words caused a stirring in the back of her mind. Saar looked up from his prison and reached out, a tendril of power arcing towards his progeny. Lenina squashed it down mercilessly, afraid to give the ancient warlord even a moment of leeway. Afraid to let him think he might be free. Just afraid.

  ‘Yes,’ Kallisto smiled. ‘At last you understand. He will rise and you cannot stop it. I await only Tristen’s return. He should be here to witness the new beginning he helped bring about.’

  Mention of the green eyed man with her sire bond gave Lenina yet another jolt of fear. He was nearer than he had been and approaching fast. His urgency leaked across the bond, burning, crushing, fiery.

  She licked her lips. Then gasped as she remembered a terrible, but all important fact. ‘You can’t.’

  Kallisto arched an eyebrow.

  ‘You need my dad.’ She laughed, unable to stop as relief battled with terror. ‘Tell her Luke. Tell her you couldn’t find him.’

  The werewolf shivered as Kallisto’s steady stare settled on his face. ‘We’ve yet to find Raymond Miller but, rest assured, we will do so. My pack are searching as we speak.’

  ‘Your pack? Interesting.’

  The relief that briefly inflated her leaked away again, like a balloon without a knot in the neck. Lenina hugged herself and shook her head, the only real denial she had left. ‘It doesn’t matter. Saar is in me. I’ll hold him back—you’ll never see him again if I have anything to do with it.’

  The answering smile from Kallisto was as vicious as it was smug. ‘You don’t. The ceremony relies on your blood, not your cooperation.’ She walked away, touching Luke lightly on the hip as she went. ‘Take her and the human back upstairs. Chain her.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I’m not suited to such a task, Kallisto.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘While I’m undoubtedly the more intelligent of us, I’d be foolish to deny that Darryl is physically stronger than I. How else do you think he became alpha? Without your tranquilising darts I can’t subdue her.’

  Kallisto paused. Her eyes narrowed. ‘And where is he?’

  Luke shrugged. ‘I believe the words he used were “looking into something to bring that long-haired poser to his knees.”’

  ‘Then I shall escort you, Lenina Miller. Unless you plan to resist?’

  As that cold, distant stare turned on her, Lenina longed to run. To grab Shawn and haul him with her out the doors and into the night. Away from this house, these werewolves and the end of her life that seemed closer than ever it had. For a short, shaming moment she considered leaving her family behind and running alone. Even without Shawn.

  They’d never catch me. I could hide . . . leave the country.

  Even running forever would be better than the promised oblivion if she stayed.

  I can’t . . .

  Not because of Shawn, Jordan or even her mother.

  The knowledge dragged he
r shoulders down. She cupped her face in her hands.

  I can’t . . . he’d find me. He’d always find me.

  ‘Come girl. I’ve things to do.’

  She could smell him before she saw him. The light freshness of peppermint billowing through the air and curling into her nostrils like delicate, playful fingers. Then the brush of his presence through her mind. Warm and friendly. Eager.

  As Tristen neared, the feeling grew stronger and with it came the longing with which she was so familiar. The lust. The want. The hot tingle between her legs. She wet her lips. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Do not think the lack of a blood bond between us makes you immune. If you won’t follow willingly, I will peel the skin off your human pet and leave the scraps as a trail.’

  Shawn gave a panicked little gasp and darted a look at the door.

  A moan rose in Lenina’s throat. She choked it back and pointed to the door. Her body sang with the need to run to him, but she didn’t. She waited. Held her breath. ‘Tristen’s back.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  If surprised to see them, Tristen hid it well. He stopped and smiled, that dazzling flash of white that so disarmed the unwary. ‘Welcoming party? How kind.’

  Luke growled under his breath. Even from a distance, Lenina heard his muttered, ‘Arrogant blood sucker.’

  ‘I have been waiting, Tristen. Where is Raymond Miller?’ Kallisto’s eyes burned with a fiery light. She stepped forward, actually shoving Luke aside to be closer.

  The werewolf’s furious glare at this second dismissal was lost to all but Lenina. ‘We will find him.’

  ‘Will you? Or will your power struggle with Darryl distract the pair of you from what needs to be done.’ Tristen shrugged. ‘Yes, I know. We all do. Your in-fighting puts our plans at risk, is it any wonder Kallisto has no faith in you?’

  The girl turned a stern eye towards him. ‘Do not speak for me.’

  His stab of fear coursed down the sire-bond. Lenina smiled. Watched him squirm.

  Tristen bowed low, holding his right hand with the wrist turned up. ‘I’m sorry. But am I wrong? Their incompetence lost Raymond Miller in the first place. Perhaps they shouldn’t be allowed to risk anything else.’