“Uh uh uh,” another vampire tutted, shaking his finger at her. Crap, where did he come from? Also, where did Ragnorok find these recruits of his? Some of them didn’t look old enough to be off their mother’s boobs let alone turned into vampires.
Morgana huffed and straightened herself, preparing for his attack. The vampire smirked, whipping out a silver knife flashing it at her.
“Shit.” She backed away as the rest of them advanced, her eyes drawn to the objects they held in their hands.
“You dirty bastards.” Who brought silver knives to a stake fight?
Morgana usually relished being a lone agent, but now, with a mate who loved her and a healthier relationship with her parents and new friends, she had more to lose if she were to be weakened by the silver or worse. She gritted her teeth. She did not like running from a fight, but even a skilled and ruthless fighter knew which battles to choose. Continuing this battle was not a winning strategy. She turned on her heel and ran straight for home.
***
Ragnorok shook his head. “I’d have never picked her for being a coward. Such a pity.” He drew the shotgun from the back of his waistline. He glanced around at his followers, all standing around looking at each other, unsure of what to do. “Well, don’t just stand there, go after her, you fools. Go on!” He waved his hands in her direction, shaking his head, “Fuck sake,” he muttered. Another reason to hate the Van Wildens. If they hadn’t killed Svetlana, these idiots would have been whipped into military shape by now. How he missed his second-in-command.
***
Morgana felt them on her tail. She pumped her legs, trying to run faster than was already possible. Her path was clear—all she had to do was run through the front door, and the barrier that kept uninvited vampires out would protect her. She raced toward the porch steps when she heard the click of a gun’s safety. Morgana snorted. They brought a gun to a vampire fight.
Her mind flashed to the gun and box of bullets in her own basement. She knew the Van Wildens wouldn’t be the only ones to have obtained silver bullets. They were extremely rare, found only in a select few black markets across the globe.
Oh, fuck.
She heard the barrel of the gun turning followed by the loud bang as the gun was fired.
The bullet hit her bicep, an excruciating burning pain spread down her arm. Her vision darkened immediately.
Morgana placed her hand on the wound, trying to stem the blood pouring out. Her breathing became ragged. She needed to move, but her strength was leaving her. Yep, she guessed it. Silver bullets. Man, not a good time to gloat that she’d been right. She staggered forward and fell to her knees.
That all too familiar presence approached her.
She turned to face her shooter. Through blurry eyes, she looked up to see Ragnorok looming over her, smiling at her with a gun in his hand.
She lifted her chin, trying not to show him how much pain she was in.
“Such an amazing weapon, the gun is.” Ragnorok turned the shotgun around in his hand. He squatted down in front of her. “And with silver bullets. Such an ingenious idea.”
He fired another shot, and the bullet pierced her stomach. The smell of her blood reached her nose. Other vampires were approaching, their eyes glowing, fangs visible.
Another shot fired at her left shoulder. The bullets tore into her flesh. As if being shot with one bullet wasn’t painful enough. But three?
Her body felt like it was on fire.
“Silver bullets won’t kill me,” Morgana rasped.
“But they have made you weaker. Notice I didn’t aim for the heart. I only wanted you weakened.”
As much as she hated to agree with him, he was right. The silver was like a slow burn consuming all her strength.
The excruciating pain spread from each wound, making her eyes tear up.
There was also anguish and fear mixed in with her pain.
“Gareth,” she rasped, her vision becoming unfocused. The last thing she heard was Ragnorok’s cruel laughter before it all went dark.
Chapter Seventeen
It was a long and grueling day clearing out the campaign office, but Gareth was never happier at the thought of not seeing that place ever again. He and Oscar had returned to the Van Wildens to ready themselves to go out scouting with Morgana.
“Not many left,” he noted, pulling stakes out from the wall holders.
Even after he and Morgana had whittled so many stakes for their punishments, the numbers were dwindling.
Oscar grinned. “It’s a sign the mission is nearing an end.”
Gareth nodded, placing a stake into his leather holster when the peripheral of tan and black fur caught his attention.
Oops. Someone had left the door to the training room open, and Brutus had wandered in. The inquisitive puppy walked around the room and stopped to sniff at the wooden training dummy. Just as he was about to cock his leg, Oscar barked, “Brutus!”
The puppy looked up at Oscar with his big brown eyes.
Gareth bit his lip, trying not to laugh.
Oscar was by the dog within seconds.
“Sorry, Gareth, you’re on your own. I need to let this one outside.”
“Sure thing, Mr. V.”
Oscar nodded, carrying Brutus up the stairs. “You know you shouldn’t be down here. Out to the backyard with you, mister.”
Gareth smiled and shook his head, continuing to refill the holsters.
He thought of Morgana and felt for where she was. He tilted his head. Huh. She seemed to be approaching the house—at quite a fast pace.
Then he sensed the presence of more vampires, and loud bangs rang through the air. His eyes shifted to the shotgun and the box of silver bullets locked away in its case.
“Morgana!” Gareth cried out. His body was overwhelmed with fear and pain. Then the bond severed, and he couldn’t feel her. For the longest time, he had only known the bond and her feelings mingling with his. Now it felt like half of him was gone.
Oscar’s roar sounded from outside, but Brutus’ howl reflected how he truly felt. The Elder was beside him again within seconds, but Gareth ignored him, tearing out of the room and out the front doors.
She was gone.
They all were.
All that remained were splashes of blood on the ground.
He could feel the residue of vampires, and he followed them.
***
Oscar had taken the little rascal out to the backyard. He leaned against the pole nearest to the back steps watching Brutus sniffing each bush or pawing at the ground. It brought a smile to his face.
It really was a nice place to live. Brutus especially enjoyed himself. Maybe after the mission was over, they could stay here for a bit and relax. He gazed over the back porch. He should install a hammock out here. Morgana would like that.
Brutus’ growl caught his attention—the puppy on his back haunches, his fur raised as he looked toward the front of the house.
Oscar felt it. The oncoming presence of a horde of vampires approaching the house. A human mixed in with them. Morgana.
Oscar raced back inside and down to the basement, gathering up as many stakes as he could. There was no time to holster them with the threat of an immediate attack.
Loud bangs rent through the air.
Oscar stilled before a roar erupted from his body. Brutus howled from above.
Gareth flew up the stairs, Oscar at his heels. The scent of his daughter’s blood stopped him. The stakes in his arms clattered to the ground.
No. It could not be.
Coldness washed over him, his heart clenching in his chest. Not another daughter.
He touched the patch of grass where her spilled blood had fallen.
He shouldn’t have let her go on her own. Not only had he failed her as a father but as her coven leader as well.
A mass of black fur flew past him chasing after Gareth.
“Brutus, no!” Oscar caught him up in his arms, making the puppy yelp. �
�I’m sorry, but you’d be no help out there with him.”
“What the feck happened here?” Alastor said, suddenly appearing.
“Quick go after him. I need to call Vivienne.”
“Aye.” Alastor took off after his best friend.
Oscar’s lips thinned as he carried the squirming puppy inside, looking around for his phone. This was one phone call to his wife he didn’t want to make.
***
The Forest Clan vampires were traveling through the edges of the forest for cover and making their way back to their lair on the outskirts of town.
Gareth charged in not caring if he was armed or not. They had his mate.
He nearly stopped at the realization of what he’d called her. Usually, he just referred to her as his girlfriend, which didn’t really matter now. They had her either way.
He flew through the front door, searching the rooms. The lair was empty.
They had led him here to throw him off. Fucking bastards. The first clue that should have alerted him was the fact he could enter the mansion.
“Fuck.” He lifted a chaise and tore it in half, throwing the pieces against the wall.
He hadn’t prepared and ran straight in blindly chasing after her.
“Where is she?” he cried.
He knew someone had followed him. He had been paying attention to who it was, but his best friend’s hand on his shoulder still made him jump.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I followed yer scrawny ass as soon as I saw ye take off.” Alastor clapped his hand on his back. “We’ll find her, mate.”
“She’s not here. I can’t feel her.”
“They used yer love for her against ye. Knew ye’d run blindly after her. They’re cunning bastards.”
“Where do you think they took her?”
“Where else? The forest.”
“Fuck.” Gareth kicked over a chair. It had taken the Van Wildens, even with their help, ages to find the Forest Clan lair the first time. Now they had to find them again?
“We have to tell Mr. and Mrs. V. They’ll wanna find her, too.”
Gareth nodded.
“Four sets of eyes and ears are better than two.”
Gareth sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Alastor clapped him again on the shoulder. “Aye, that I am.”
Gareth’s top lip curled up. He was not in the mood to laugh.
Chapter Eighteen
Morgana opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. She was at the location of the abandoned Forest lair site, which was also where Mariza’s wild-rose cage ring-of-death had been.
Her eyes narrowed as she saw the remaining huts Mariza hadn’t destroyed that were once nestled amongst the canopy of the trees now scattered haphazardly surrounding her. Some were barely standing. A strong gust of wind could easily knock them right over.
The Forest Clan went from living in the treetops to the town lair to residing on the ground. If they weren’t going to be eradicated by her and her family soon, she might wonder where they’d try to live next.
It was a very bold move for Ragnorok to have his lair out in the open like this. But as far as she was aware, the humans stayed out of the forest nowadays. And this was the furthest section of the forest from Oak Wood Hills. Clever.
Morgana looked to her left and right, a small gasp escaping her mouth.
She wasn’t the only one strapped to a pole. But unlike her, these humans were only tied to theirs by rope. She had silver chains snaking around her torso, strapping her to the pole, biting into the exposed flesh from her bullet wounds.
They had stripped off her jacket, her dark gray tank top remained, leaving her with some modesty. Her leather pants had been rolled up to her knees, her bare arms pinned to her sides.
She needed to be free of these chains. There was no way she was going to stick around and be a part of whatever sick and twisted plot Ragnorok had cooked up. She looked around. Her mind raced with different possibilities until she settled on one.
If she broke one of her limbs or hands, the ties would no longer bind them.
Morgana could do it. She could break her arm or dislocate her shoulder to slip from the chains. It was only the burning sensation she had to withstand, but she could do this. She was Morgana-freakin’-Van Wilden. She took down large vampire clans like this all the time.
What was a little debilitating silver poisoning?
She breathed in deep and psyched herself up. Okay, it’s just pain. Pain is freedom. You’ve got to suffer a bit of it to get out of here. You can do this.
She gritted her teeth and dislocated her shoulder. She’d bitten down on her tongue to stop herself from calling out, and now she could taste her blood.
She swirled it around in her mouth and shrugged—not quite sure what the big deal was about the taste.
She shimmied her arm through the chains, grinding her teeth as the silver scraped her skin, leaving large purple-red welts. Tears gathered in her eyes. Oh, how she wanted to cry out. She ground her teeth, determined to do this. Inch by painful inch, her arms were finally freed. Gritting her teeth, she pushed her shoulder back into place, holding in her scream. Once the feeling had returned to that arm, she shoved the chains down around her legs, drawing a sharp intake of breath as the chains fell around her ankles. She quickly glanced around before racing away from the pole. The exertion of running and the silver poisoning slowed her down. Her chest heaved as she dropped to her hands and knees.
Morgana crawled along the ground, trying to put as much distance between them. She groaned inward when she felt a vampire standing over her. Oh, shit.
He yanked at her hair, dragging her upward.
She bit back the cry at the pain in her scalp.
“Going somewhere?” he sneered. He was wearing a leather vest, and his muscular arms were bare. From the look of his hairstyle—shaved down the sides with a short mohawk on top—this vampire was old, but she also sensed it from his presence.
Dammit.
The vampire dragged her back by her hair, pain radiating in her scalp. She clawed at his hand to free herself. He threw her up against the pole, a spasm spreading across her back from the force. Another vampire wrapped the silver chains back around her—this time intertwining and winding them tighter.
The vampire who’d caught her tapped the pistol on her chest, right where her heart was. “I think I should put a bullet right in here for that, stop you from escaping again.”
“Do you even know how to use that thing? You look like you came from the Viking era,” Morgana said snidely to mask her fear, but even she could hear her heart hammering against her ribcage. Being the only Dhampir, there was no way to know if a silver bullet to the heart would kill her. And she didn’t want to test it.
Ragnorok appeared and placed a hand on the vampire’s hand holding the gun.
“What are you doing? We want her alive. Who knows what a silver bullet would do to her heart. We want to harvest her blood, do we not?”
Viking vampire pulled the gun away. “Sorry, boss.”
If she weren’t being held up by chains, Morgana would have sagged with relief at the threat of her life being taken away. “Always the pretty ones who are dumb,” she spoke, feigning bravado.
Viking vampire bared his fangs.
Morgana raised her eyebrows.
Ragnorok shook his head and held out his hand.
The vampire begrudgingly handed over the gun.
The Forest Clan leader then aimed the gun at Morgana’s left shoulder and began unloading bullets into various parts of her body.
Morgana ground her teeth, muffling the howls wanting to escape from her throat. The bullets exacerbated the pain throughout her body. How could she endure even more? Her breathing haggard, her head fell forward.
Ragnorok placed his hand on her cheek, tilting her head to look into her the eyes.
She tried to convey as much hatred toward him as she could.
; He smiled and spoke to the Viking, “Besides what I have planned for her, I want her to feel this. She has to live.”
“Fuck you,” she rasped.
“But I thought” her captor protested.
Ragnorok dropped his hand, letting her face fall back down. He turned to the vampire. “Don’t think. Just do what I say.”
“Yes, Ragnorok.” The vampire bowed his head.
Ragnorok shook his head, turning back to Morgana. “Barbarians some of them. All about the kill, kill, kill. Never about savoring the moment. The slow, torturous deaths are always the best.” He shook his head and waved at her. “And make sure she’s chained tight. We don’t want her escaping again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Alastor watched his friend slump forward onto his knees, a cry escaping his lips before he fell into silence.
Oscar and Vivienne arrived at the town lair shortly after.
“Perhaps I should take him back to the house?” Vivienne crouched down, looking concerned at Gareth.
“No.” Gareth tried to stand, pushing her away from him. “I need to find her.”
“Calm yourself, son. You’re too volatile now. Alastor can search the town lair for any clues to their whereabouts. I’ll look for any evidence outside our home.”
“No,” Gareth protested.
Oscar planted a firm hand on his shoulder. “Go back to the house. Take a moment to calm yourself.” Oscar gazed into Gareth’s eyes. “You’re letting your emotions block any other feelings.”
Realization dawned on his best friend’s face, “You mean—”
Oscar nodded. “Your bond. It should lead us straight to her. But your emotions are overpowering anything you might be feeling from her.”
Gareth looked at Alastor, who nodded.
Vivienne placed an arm around his shoulders, leading him away.
“Go inside the house, Alastor, and try to find anything that will lead us to her.” Oscar didn’t quite meet his eyes.
The Van Wilden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3 Page 46
