Walking The Razor's Edge

by Ileandra Young

  ‘She just started screaming. Like something attacked her.’

  She cried out again as another searing bolt pierced her stomach. It punched through like a spear and seemed to come out the other side, but no blood stained her clothes. She doubled over.

  ‘Lenina, what’s happening?’

  Darryl hooked her hands away and split her top down the middle. His gaze raked her exposed chest and stomach. ‘Nothing. What the hell’s wrong with her?’

  She swallowed a watery lump of fear. Tears poured down her cheeks. ‘Make it stop . . .’

  ‘How?’ Shawn shoved Darryl aside and leaned over her. His eyes showed white all the way round, jaw slack with panic. ‘I don’t get it. What’s happening?’

  ‘Not a damn clue.’ The werewolf thumbed his nose. ‘But I ain’t come this far, done so much, to lose now.’

  Something cold closed around her wrists. When she looked, nothing held her but Shawn, his fingers warm and soft. But the cold persisted. Then the other wrist. Ankles. Something stretched her limbs wide and pinned them in place. But her body never moved.

  Understanding hit her like a bucket of icy water.

  ‘Tristen.’ The word quivered.

  A scoff from Darryl. ‘He should be in no state to mess with you right now. Not the way Kallisto was looking at him.’ The words were barely free of his lips before he gasped. ‘Oh, sweet, holy hell.’

  A shrill scream echoed faintly in the distance.

  Darryl stiffened. Looked up. He marched to the door. ‘Torture . . . not that he doesn’t deserve it, but she’ll kill you both if she keeps it up.’ He darted from the room.

  Another shard of pain thumped through Lenina’s body. She thrashed across the bed, tasting blood on her lips as fangs slashed her tongue. ‘She’ll kill him.’ The thought brought on a terrifying mix of glee and panic.

  Shawn grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. When the next wave came, he cried out as a twist of her hips sent him flying. He knelt on the carpet scraping hair off his face. ‘You’ll tear that leg wound if you don’t keep still. Ride it out.’

  Tristen’s screams floated up the stairs and Lenina joined him, too muddled to think of how to shut him out. His peppermint scent stung her nose, but not with lust. This time it came with the all-consuming desire to save him.

  She vaulted off the bed.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I have to go to him.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  Lenina darted for the door, her strides strong but human slow. Shawn followed, grabbing her hand and pulling. She twisted free. ‘Stop! You don’t understand—’

  ‘It’s a trick.’

  ‘No—’

  Shawn ducked beneath her arm and swung her over his uninjured shoulder. He gritted his teeth and marched her across the room, grunting as she punched his back. He stumbled but didn’t stop until he reached the bed and dumped her on it.

  Immediately she leapt to her feet, glaring when he pushed her back down.

  ‘Look at you. I’m no expert but I shouldn’t be able to stop you if you want to stand.’

  She whimpered. ‘If I go to him the pain will stop. He’s doing it—he wants me to feel it. He knows it will stop her torturing him.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He pushed her again, and the impact with the bed coincided with a fresh bout of pain, this a crushing, squeezing force on her skull.

  Lenina curled into a ball, clutching her head in her hands.

  Tristen’s voice began to creep through, the echo of his thoughts as he forced them into her mind.

  She’ll kill me. I’ll die. You can’t let me die. Save me. You can’t let me die. You want me. You need me. Don’t let me die. Save me.

  She moaned. ‘I can’t shut him out.’

  The bed gave on one side as Shawn sat beside her. He stroked small circles on her back. ‘Look at me.’

  You’ll die if you lose me. I’m your sire. I’m your blood. You need me. Save me.

  ‘Lenina.’ Shawn heaved her into a sitting position. His image blurred before her, misty with pain. His hand soothed her cheek as he touched her. Then his arms curled around her, warm and gentle. Against her ear, the rapid thud-thudding of his heart only increased when their skin touched.

  ‘Block him out. Listen to me. Feel me. Don’t let him use you.’

  His breath billowed over her cheek, smelling faintly of chicken and gravy. The soft ends of his hair brushed her nose as she snuggled against the warmth of his chest. Against his skin. Closer to his heart.

  Hunger surged, a powerful wave that, for blissful seconds, shut out even the pain forced on her by Tristen.

  She lunged at his throat, squealing as he danced aside and let her fall against the sheets.

  Again his heart called to her, his fear now doubled, tripled, as realisation filled his eyes.

  Nowhere to run. Nowhere to go. Enemies everywhere.

  He dived off the bed and ran to the door, jerking on the handle. ‘Darryl? Hello?’

  Save me. Feed me. Give me strength to live. Drink the blood. Don’t let me die. You need me. You want me.

  Her next move was a desperate lurch that dumped her on the floor beside the bed. Her gums tingled, tongue prickling as she remembered the flavour of Shawn’s blood.

  That one teasing taste filled her head once more, coupling with his own scent so close.

  Shawn left the door and wedged himself into the corner beside the wardrobe. ‘Control it, Lenina. Please. Just hold on a little longer. You’ll be okay.’

  She crawled towards him, dragging legs that no longer wished to work.

  The voice in her head grew louder. More insistent.

  Save me. Save me. Save me. Save me.

  Her stomach clenched on emptiness.

  The weight of Tristen’s bond won out over hunger. Half way towards Shawn, Lenina angled herself at the door, ready to drag herself all the way to his side.

  It opened before she could get there, admitting Darryl with a syringe of clear fluid already held primed between his fingers.

  ‘I thought you were going to stop them,’ Shawn cried.

  Darryl grunted and dropped down beside Lenina, waving aside her frantic attempts to scratch his face. ‘She’s not going to stop until she’s ready. The most I can do is cut off the link between them.’

  Save me. Save me. Save me. Save me.

  She groaned as the needle pricked the side of her throat. ‘I need him.’ A tear slid down her cheek. ‘I can’t let him die.’

  ‘Girlie, if you think Kallisto will let him die you really don’t understand what she is.’

  Cold, crawling weakness began to spread through her limbs. She slumped against the carpet, unable to voice a complaint as Darryl scooped her off the floor and laid her on the bed.

  As mist crawled in at the edges of her vision she wept bitterly, wondering when, and if, her mind would ever be her own again.

  DAY TWO

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lenina woke slowly to the sensation of warm arms curled around her. She smiled, snuggled deeper into the embrace and wondered what to cook for breakfast.

  Pancakes?

  Nick always liked pancakes. He’d separate them on his plate and smother one in honey, another in peanut butter and a third in chocolate sauce. Then he would roll them up and eat slices from each, one at a time: honey, peanut, chocolate, honey, peanut, chocolate.

  She brushed her hand down his arm, picking out muscles in his bicep. Her fingers brushed a small patch of rough skin near his elbow, an unfamiliar scar. Opening her eyes revealed pale skin, beneath thick dark hair. The smell of warm fur filled her nostrils.

  Not Nick.

  The fantasy shattered so hard she almost heard it, tiny shards of her dreams showering the hard floor of reality.

  She jerked off the bed, wobbling on legs that resembled bends of damp cardboard.

  Darryl plumped the pillows behind his head and gave her a long, steady look. ‘You good?’r />
  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘You kept trying to eat the copper. It was the only way to keep you off him.’

  Lenina scrubbed at her arms. The sudden longing for a shower filled her mind.

  ‘Believe what you want, girlie, but you ain’t really my type. Though you are cute when you’re sleeping. You snore.’

  To the side of the bed, Shawn lay on the floor with one hand tucked between his cheek. The steady beat of his heart suggested sleep.

  Darryl followed her gaze. ‘He passed out a little after you did.’

  ‘How long did I sleep?’

  ‘Couple of hours.’

  She nodded, folding her arms across her chest, suddenly aware that the torn shreds of her top where nowhere in sight.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Darryl snapped.

  ‘What do you want me to say? ‘Thanks for stripping me half naked, then cuddling me through a drug induced mini-coma’?’

  He grunted, tugged off his jacket and tossed it over. ‘Blood suckers . . .’

  Lenina shook out the jacket and pulled it on, trying to ignore the musk of fur. Not unpleasant, just powerful, blocking most other smells without effort. In the end she took shallow breaths through her mouth and crossed to the window.

  The grounds outside writhed with activity, like a kicked ant hill. Cars, bikes and large vans formed neat rows on the white gravel of the drive. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Other blood suckers showing up. Things should kick off soon.’

  ‘How many?’

  A shrug. ‘Thirty? Fifty? Can’t tell from here.’ His gaze flickered to hers. ‘Some are powerful.’

  ‘God-touched?’

  ‘Every single one. Kallisto called in everybody within a hundred miles. She wants to show you off.’

  ‘Show Saar off.’

  ‘Whatever.’ He stood, joined her by the window and folding his arms. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

  Lenina cleared her throat. ‘I’m supposed to give up?’

  ‘How much choice you got?’ His gazed touched hers again before sliding away, looking out the window at the gloomy night.

  ‘Why are you here, Darryl?’ When he stiffened, she pressed on. ‘I know, I know, pack business. But if I have so little choice does it really matter what you tell me?’

  He sighed. ‘We’re dying. The pack I mean. Getting weaker year on year and there ain’t nothing we can do about it.’ At last he looked at her. Shrugged. ‘Nothing special, just genetics. Born wolves are stronger, faster and more pure.’ He gave the word curious emphasis. ‘But you only get a wolf baby with two wolf parents and we’re already so inbred that the risks are too high. The packs get jumbled up, but it’s not enough. We need fresh blood.’

  Lenina wanted to speak, but she knew doing so would disrupt the flow.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with bitten wolves. I’ve seen them. No matter what the Grandfathers think, they’re as strong, fast and clever as the rest of us. Maybe more without the inbreeding. But they aren’t allowed to mate with us.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘But if there was a real threat . . . a reason for us to push on birthing more wolves, the Grandfathers would change the law. We’d be able to breed with bitten wolves. I’d be able to—’ His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. ‘You’re damn nosey, know that?’

  ‘So I’m told. Who is she?’

  He grinned, showing off his gold teeth. ‘None of your damn business.’

  ‘Right. So you help Kallisto bring Saar back because that’s a real threat to you and the rest of your wolves. But what if your granddad doesn’t change his mind?’

  ‘Grandfathers, girlie. Pay attention. A group of old, grey men stuck in a timewarp. And they will change their minds. Unless they want us all to die.’

  A door slammed downstairs. The sound jarred Shawn awake and he bolted upright with a grunt. ‘Lenina?’

  ‘Here.’

  His shoulders sagged. ‘You’re okay?’

  ‘I’ll do.’

  Shawn hopped off the bed and advanced slowly. His gaze flickered over her face, lingering on the cut on her cheek before trailing down. His eyes narrowed when he saw the jacket. ‘Let me check your leg.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Let me look.’

  Alarmed by the bite in his voice, Lenina extended her leg. He refused to meet her eye, looking carefully under the bloodied strips of his old, ruffled shirt.

  ‘Looks clean enough. Need a fresh bandage though. Got a first aid kit?’

  Darryl backed off, hands raised. ‘I’m not allowed to leave this room again. Guess you can use that blanket if you want. Or the rest of your shirt.’

  With gritted teeth Shawn did exactly that. Three fresh strips from the last of the ruffled shirt, still hanging open over his chest. He used the first to wipe crusted blood away, careful not to get any on his fingers.

  The wound was no longer bleeding, but far from healed. On a human it would need stitches.

  Lenina hoped she would live long enough to see it close.

  Working in silence, Shawn bound the wound, neater and tighter than before. ‘How does that feel?’

  ‘Fine. Shawn—’

  ‘Don’t.’ He refused to look her way. His nostrils flared as he sucked a deep breath in, then let it go, long and slow through his mouth. ‘I wish you’d stop treating me like a baby.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You are the only way we’re getting out of here and we can’t do that if you’re weak. You need blood and there’s one source. One.’

  ‘No,’ she backed off.

  ‘Don’t you think that should be my choice?’

  ‘What would be the point? Killing you so I can get away?’

  ‘Then we all die.’ He slumped on the end of the bed, propping his chin on his fist.

  Lenina glanced at Darryl who shrugged. ‘He’s got a point, girlie.’

  She growled. ‘Are you so eager to die, Shawn?’

  ‘I’m going to anyway, aren’t I?’ His head whipped round, stare falling on hers for the first time since he woke. ‘Aren’t I?’ When she didn’t answer, he chuckled. ‘You can’t even make up a comforting lie. If I’m going to die, shouldn’t it be for something instead of . . . sitting around waiting for them to stick a knife in me?’

  Another door thudded closed downstairs. The babble of soft voices floated through the air.

  ‘I have a life,’ he continued. ‘A girlfriend, a job, a house. I wanted children. I wanted to die one-hundred-years-old in a scabby old rocking chair surrounded by six grandkids. But I can’t.’

  And there it was. The true reason behind his insistence.

  Lenina closed her eyes, stunned she hadn’t realised it before. ‘Rebecca isn’t the only woman in the world,’ she said. ‘You’ll find someone else.’

  Shawn stopped dead. ‘How do you know about her?’

  For a split second she considered lying. The look on his face convinced her not to. ‘I tasted your blood.’ When he continued staring blankly, she pressed on, praying that her decision was the right one. ‘After Zoë bit you, I had to lick your throat to stop the bleeding. It gave me your memories.’

  ‘You tasted me?’ He clutched his throat. The self-righteous anger drained away, leaving behind a small, lost boy.

  ‘Would you have preferred to die?’

  In answer, Shawn tugged back the sleeve of his torn shirt and shoved his wrist towards her. ‘Just do it. You’ve already started, why stop now?’

  ‘Shawn—’

  ‘I do trust you.’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t answer before, but I trust you to do the right thing. These people are insane and they have to be stopped. Who else is going to do it?’

  Lenina stared at his resigned expression, fighting to match the man on the bed with the one dancing through her memory. The one bounding into a car for his first day at work helping people. Upholding the law. Protecting the innocent.

  She saw the argument just before Rebecca left the ring in his hands,
her last words echoing in his ears.

  ‘If you want to save the world, that’s fine, but there’s no room left for me.’

  In the present moment, Shawn left the bed and walked closer, wrist held out before him.

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

  He followed, leading with the wrist. ‘You can.’

  ‘I told you what I did to Nick. How that made me feel. I can’t go through that again.’

  This close, the scent of blood beneath his skin made her mouth water. So sweet. After so long without, her fangs grew instantly. A moment later she could see every tiny pore and the faint leap of his skin as the pulse passed beneath.

  He hissed through his teeth. ‘I’ll never get used to seeing that.’

 

  Lenina paused, unsurprised to hear Saar’s voice again with tribute on her mind. Turning her attention inward, she studied the cage around him.

  Whether through the force of Tristen’s pain or the magic of Darryl’s drug, the ancient god-touched was no longer trapped behind her mental barricade. Awakened by the scent of food, he lifted his head and gave a soft murmur, stretching his limbs like a sleepy feline.

 

  Lenina licked her lips. Lowered her head. Her fangs brushed Shawn’s wrist and he tensed. His breathing became uneven, a rough hiss near her ear. His heart raced, visible beneath the skin as a large vein there pulsed frantically.

  She licked him.

  He held his breath.

 

  The door opened to reveal Zoë wearing a broad smile and a white dress of rough linen stitched with deep red symbols. She stopped dead at the tableau within, dropping a silky bundle of white cloth. ‘Well, well—’

  Saar snarled, a sudden crescendo of fury. He leapt like a rabid dog on the end of a chain. Lenina felt him move and knew she had a split second to hold him in check. Shawn’s wrist still pressed against her mouth, the tang of his skin delicious on her lips. Saar kept pushing, uncoiling that metaphorical chain that would snap taut any moment and choke him off at the throat.

  She let him go.

  A tingling burn spread down her arms as Saar flooded her limbs. He shoved Shawn to the ground and darted across the room with a growl.