by Ben Alderson
Hillcrest Supernatural #3
BEN ALDERSON
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Dedication
Moon Struck Hillcrest Supernaturals, #3
Copyright © 2018 Ben Alderson
Cover design by Covers by Christian
Editing by Narrative Ink Editing LLC
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Chapter One
Savi
I can’t feel. It’s as if the wind has ceased. I watch the dried, dying leaves in autumnal shades blow in the silent breeze. They scrape against the cement and smack into the legs of those I silently stalk.
I haven’t moved since my gaze landed on the familiar figures. I know they can see me, if only they would turn toward my direction, but the predator in me has fallen silent. I should move, hide, watch from the darkness of the street, where I would be safe, but instead, I stay illuminated by the lights.
Behind me, the loud base music strums through the brick walls that enclose my once-favorite vampire club. Inside, even now, vampires dance and feed. They have no idea how dangerous their everyday lives have just become, for just outside, supernatural hunters linger.
Something touches my shoulder, and I nearly catapult into the air. I shriek, and I’ve recovered my senses. Just as the hunters, who are busily chatting with Jane, the elder witch, toss gazes my way, I pull Chad into the safety of the shadows. I sense my brother’s confusion, but I cover his eager mouth with my hand before he can protest. With my eyes, I tell him to remain silent. He nods, and I pry my hand from his face.
I toss a glance over my shoulder. The men have returned their focus on Elder Jane. Part of me wishes to warn her, but I can’t risk exposure. They’ve seen my face. They know I’ve escaped their compound, their prison. I don’t know what pretext they’re offering as a cover for being in Hillcrest, but I know they’re here for me. They want revenge, vengeance for the many lives stolen during my daring escape.
Suddenly, a thought occurs to me.
I must tell the alpha.
Zane.
Alpha of the Hillcrest wolves.
And my sire, for it was his bloodline that turned me into the half-vampire half-werewolf creature I am today.
I may have survived the bite his brother inflicted on me (mainly thanks to George’s magical influence), but resurrection has come at a cost. Apparently, blind allegiance to the Hillcrest alpha is said cost.
I want to hate myself for immediately thinking of Zane’s safety over my own, but I can’t. I feel drawn to him in ways I’ve never experienced. He is probably used to this form of devotion, but I certainly am not. If he thinks I will willingly leave my life to parade around Wolfsbane Forest with him and his pack, then he has another thing coming.
“Savi, what is going on?” Chad whispers. I can sense his fear to speak. His words are soft, almost inaudible. I point to the group. Chad watches them carefully before shrugging. “I don’t know them.”
Hunters, I mouth. His skin pales, which is a difficult task for a vampire. Our skin is already so pale it’s almost pearlescent. As the blood drains from his skin, I know exactly where it’s going. As it fuels his rage, his desire to kill will become so overwhelming he’ll be forced to act upon it. And with that, he will risk is life.
I can’t let him.
I want nothing more than to end their lives, but revenge must come from my hand. They nearly killed me during my captivity. I could have stopped them, ended it, if only I’d given them names. I refused, and I won’t let that be for nothing.
I yank Chad back and dash down the alleyway. With each step I take, I feel his resistance. He fights me as I put more and more distance between him and the hunters. He pushes back, grunting against me, but my body is a solid slab. I won’t let him break through me.
When I’m sure we’re out of earshot, I slam my palm against Chad’s chest a bit harder than intended. He stumbles backward but catches his footing before falling.
“Stop!” I shout. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, Savannah. Now get out of my way.”
“What about George?” I ask, knowing it’s a low blow but not caring. Just as I expected, George’s name gives Chad pause. “You have no idea what you’re getting into with them, Chad, and right now, I need you to focus on George. His mother was just murdered in front of him, and he has to deal with the supreme, who is going to cash in that favor sooner rather than later now that they’re here.” I’m careful not to use their names. They may be out of earshot, but other supernaturals are not. I don’t want to create a mass hysteria.
“They need to pay for what they did to you,” Chad growls. His jaw is clenched, so I can barely understand the words he seethes.
“They will.” I cross my arms over my chest. Never in my life have I been as sure as I am in this moment. The hunters will pay for what they did to me. “But it will be by my hand.”
Chad nods sharply, the muscles in his jaw bulging. I know he’s not happy with me, but I can’t worry about that right now. I need Chad to help George so I can stop the hunters.
“George is in trouble, and I can’t split my focus,” I say.
“George needs you too, you know,” Chad says. The comment shoots straight for my heart.
“He’s in good hands with you,” I reply simply.
“Do you even hear yourself? You’re acting like you don’t even care about him.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course I care about him. I wouldn’t be in this situation if I didn’t care about him! But I won’t spend the rest of my life worrying that they are going to find me or him or you. I will end this. I will end them. I have to go back.” I swallow the knot that forms and gnaw on my lower lip as I watch Chad consider my words. I see the array of emotions flash across his stubborn face, from surprise to disgust to anger.
“You don’t seriously think I would let you go back there?” he snaps.
“I left them,” I say, whispering.
He arches a brow but remains silent.
“There were dozens, Chad. Dozens and dozens of supernaturals caged, tortured, dying. Every day, more die. When I was freed, I barely tried to
help them. I have to go back. I can’t just leave them. I can’t…”
I didn’t realize I was hyperventilating until Chad pulled me into his arms. He held me until my chest stopped hurting and my eyes stopped stinging. Every time I think about that place, about what happens there, the world seems to fall silent. It’s like I’m trapped in the darkness, but I can feel it closing in on me. And I can’t stop it. I’m smothered by the one thing I used to cherish. After all, vampires are supposed to be friends with the night.
Chad soothes me with words of wisdom and optimism, but I try not to focus on them. I know everything won’t be okay. I know we won’t figure this out together. I need to do this alone, even if it costs me my life. If offering my existence in exchange for ending their operation is the cost I must pay, then I will do so willingly.
I sniffle as I pull away. “You need to go home.”
Chad snorts. “You don’t really think that’s going to happen, do you?”
“George won’t want to be alone forever, and when he calls, you need to be there. You need to hold him, tell him you’ll always be there for him. Just… love him better than his mother did.”
***
It took an extra twenty minutes of convincing Chad to wait for me at home, so by the time I returned to the club, the hunters and Elder Jane were gone.
Where would she have taken them?
Think, Savi. Think!
I’m sure her ability as the town’s “police chief” is the reason why they were speaking with her. I’m also sure they didn’t just walk up to her and tell her they’re looking for an escapee. The supreme warned me that humans are investigating the bonfire massacre, which George and I witnessed. No one but Will knows that, of course. We took care of all of our indiscretions, but now I fear this past mistake may have come back to bite us in the ass.
Would she have taken them to the site of the massacre? At this hour, I doubt it. The moon shines down upon me, beckoning me to transform into the beast. I consider it, because a wolf’s nose is hard to fool. I could transform and find them by their scent. But that would leave me in wolf’s form with no clothes to change back into.
Unable to think of another option, I dash for the town hall. At the center of Hillcrest, the building stands tall. Many supernaturals walk the halls of this building. It’s where the council meets and laws are passed. It’s also a stand-in for our jail. Of course, that part is never used. Supernaturals don’t have many laws. In fact, our number one rule—not to kill a human—is punishable by death, so we don’t usually lock up vampires or wolves in the cells. But we needed something to convince passersby, like these intruders.
The building is several stories high. Spotlights are positioned perfectly to illuminate many of the windows. Flags blow in the breeze as I take the steps to the front doors two at a time. I yank open the dark wooden doors and listen as my feet smack the marble floor of the lobby. Even at this late hour, the room is bustling with workers. Supernaturals don’t require as much sleep as humans, so we tend to work long hours.
“May I help you find something?” A large man approaches me. He’s wearing a suit, but it doesn’t hide the ink stains across his hands. I’m betting he’s heavily tattooed beneath the jacket.
“I’m looking for Elder Jane,” I say. I don’t need to introduce myself, because my eyes are the only ticket I need. My red irises betray my identity as a vampire. Thankfully, the room is dark enough so he probably can’t tell I also have flecks of gold in my irises—something no other creature has. That is, unless there’s another hybrid I don’t know about.
The man stopping me wears colored contacts, but those never look natural. He’s trying to hide his differences from the human onlookers. He narrows his gaze at me now. “She’s busy. You should go home.”
His words are a warning. He’s not asking me to leave. He’s telling me it’s dangerous to be out tonight. I’m thankful, but I know more about these monsters than he does. It’s really me who should be protecting him.
“Not until I see Jane,” I say. I speak each word slowly and emphasize them with a tap of my finger against his chest. His broad shoulders are thickly muscled, and even though he towers over me, I don’t back down.
Suddenly, I hear her. She’s speaking to the men, telling them about a nice hotel we have in town. She offers to make a reservation for them. They decline and tell her they’ll see her tomorrow morning. She confirms that she will take them to the site of the alleged massacre but not until the morning.
They’re walking toward me now, and I panic. Quickly, I thank the guard, who was busy insisting I leave during the time I was eavesdropping on one of his bosses, and rush out the door. I don’t stop running until I’m slamming shut the front door of my home.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, she takes them into the woods, where I’ll be waiting.
Tomorrow, I end this.
Chapter Two
George
Father doesn’t blink. His chest does not rise nor fall. If it is possible to look through his pale, moonstone skin, I might be able to see empty veins of blood and a heart missing its rhythm.
He simply stands in front of the door, preventing me from escaping, arms crossed over his chest. Everything about his face seems calm and tranquil, whereas his stance suggests he is paranoid and angry.
“Georgie.” He calls my name, the one he coined for me when he was alive.
I rub my eyes, hard, but he doesn’t disappear. I blink, but still he stands before me when I reopen my eyes.
“I am really here, my boy.”
“How?” That’s all I can manage to say. I’m not sure my question is literal. How is he here? Would he even know the answer? Perhaps I should ask the universe for answers. Or Abraxon…
His voice is as clear as the many crystal orbs that fill the dark-oak shelves that line his study’s walls. It’s as deep as it once was, and it’s tainted with his subtle English accent—despite the fact that he never visited abroad. He said his accent came from his father, my grandfather, who moved to Hillcrest from across the sea before Father was born.
“I understand you will have many questions about—” he gestures with his hands down at his body. Even that subtle movement alone shakes shadows from his skin. “Well, this predicament I am in.”
“How—” I begin to ask again, but this time, my question is directed solely at Father.
“Am I here?” Father finishes for me. “Georgie—”
“Please!” I snap. “Do not call me that.”
“But it is what I always called you…” His brows furrow in a strange sadness.
He repeats that name in a sad attempt to prove he is who he says he is, and not just some phantom in Father’s form, but it doesn’t need to pass his lips again. And honestly, it’s not enough for my skeptic mind.
“Prove you are my father,” I command.
“We both know I do not need to give proof to something that is a fact. I can see it in your eyes, Georgie. You know I am not a trick of light. It is me.”
I tilt my head in a nod, mouth agape and heart beating at a considerable rate. I am certain even Father can hear it.
Do not trust him. Abraxon’s voice is riddled with distrust.
“If you are my father…” I hesitate.
The corner of his lip turns up. “I am.”
“Then how are you still within the plane of the living? Years ago, you died before my very eyes. This—” I point toward his almost water-like chest “—should be impossible.”
“I would suggest we ask your mother, but since you have crossed the threshold of my study, I am to believe the witch has died.” Father’s expression is neutral as he refers to Mother’s passing. “I can’t say I’m upset by her death. I have waited many years for someone to help me. Now she cannot stop my heir from knowing the truth.”
In his honesty, he says so much. It’s almost too much to hear. I want to clap my hands over my ears and scream like a child, but I know I cannot.
&
nbsp; “But you love—loved—her.” I narrow my gaze at him. How can he speak of Mother this way? Was their entire marriage a sham? If so, how had I not known?
“Tolerated, my boy. I tolerated her, just as I’m sure you have since my… departure. You know as well as I do how possessive she could be.” He moves toward me, feet walking yet never touching the ground. “I am so sorry I had to leave you with her. It was never supposed to happen that way.”
I cringe as his transparent hand floats toward my shoulder. I expect the sensation of his touch to make me wince, but I feel nothing. He’s a mere wisp of freezing air. The cool breeze soon passes.
“You fear me?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you are!” I half-shout, eyes clamped shut. My muscles have tensed, turning me into a statue. I wait for this thing to move away from me so I can escape this room.
I hear Father’s faint tsk and sense his presence move away. “You already know what I am—a spirit, ghost, a phantom confined within the walls of this prison created out of your Mother’s unmatched desire for more power. This place has prevented me from truly passing on.”
“And why would she do such a thing?” I ask. Mother was powerful, but she was an Alcott through marriage, not blood. Her magic was not as raw as Father’s or mine. It is not impossible for a witch to entrap a spirit for a short period of time. Such a spell can be invaluable when the dead has answers the living seeks. But to keep a spirit trapped within the physical realm for as long as Father has been here takes a great deal of power—power Mother always wished she possessed.
“I suppose she did this for you, in case you needed me. Your mother understood a day would come when you would require a specific kind of guidance. This is something only I could provide.” He exhales slowly, loudly, dramatically. “Much has changed, my boy.”
He did this, Abraxon hisses.
“You did this,” I mirror what the demon murmured in my mind.
Father is quiet, too quiet. Until this point, his expression has remained plain, mundane, now, it cracks into a smile.
