Authors: Lydia Michaels
Delilah was hurt.
Whatever his mother was suffering, he could not sense. Her mind was too strong
for him to probe, but Delilah had felt her pain, taken it into herself.
“Somebody take her,” he
yelled and Eleazar was at his side, relieving him of his mother so he could go
to his mate.
Christian pulled Delilah
into his arms and caressed her face. The weakest smile played across her lips
as she gazed up at him through her dark lashes. “Christian,” she breathed.
“What has happened,
Delilah? Speak to me.”
She was so weak. Her
eyes closed and fear gripped him like the claws of Satan. He shook her. “Look
at me. Do not close your eyes.”
She moaned and fought to
keep her gaze on him. “Don’t know,” she mumbled feebly. “Pain. She was in pain.
Tried to help. Burns.”
Alarm had his eyes
wildly searching for explanations. Eleazar held his mother who was still
unconscious. Larissa spoke frantically in his ear. Christian needed to ease
Delilah’s pain. She was fading.
He bit into his wrist,
tearing away the flesh as crimson bloomed from his vein. “Drink,
pintura.
Drink
and you will be well.”
He pressed his wrist to
her lips and she sipped weakly. Color slowly returned to her pale cheeks and
her tension seemed to ease. What on earth had happened in his absence?
As she took what she
needed he probed her mind again. The haze was lifting and he caught snippets of
what she’d been thinking only minutes ago. Fumbling past her feelings of inadequacy
and her curiosities at becoming his wife, he found memories of the male who had
sent her flowers.
His face hardened. Why
was she thinking of him? He heard her tell his mother about the male and that
was when everything changed. Glancing at the bishop, he found the other man’s
stare intently upon him. “I do not understand,” Christian admitted.
The bishop swallowed.
“He’s found her,” Eleazar said quietly.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
* * * *
Delilah awoke in a bed
she didn’t recognize.
“You are awake.”
She turned and found
Larissa sitting in a chair by her side. “Where am I?”
“You are still at the
Safe House. You fainted.”
Vampyres do that?
“Sometimes,” the girl
said and Delilah grimaced at the intrusion to her thoughts. “I’m sorry. You
think very clearly. It’s difficult not to overhear your thoughts.”
Her mind returned to the
episode from earlier. “Adriel?”
“She is…safe,” Larissa
said, tension knitting her brow.
“What happened to her?”
“My husband tells me she
had a sort of attack of panic.”
“Why?” Delilah asked,
pulling herself into a seated position.
Larissa hesitated. “The
male you saw…that was Christian’s father, Adriel is his mate.”
“What?”
No way.
“Cerberus Maddox is a
very dangerous immortal, from what I understand. He does not care for my mate
and,” Larissa stared at her lap, her voice laden with emotion, “the elders
believe he is coming here to seek retribution.”
“Retribution for what?”
Larissa swallowed. Her
eyes shimmered under a glaze of unshed tears. “He was not a kind mate to
Adriel. I am told he did things to her beyond my comprehension of evil. I,
however, beg to differ. I, too, have known my share of evil males.”
Delilah wasn’t
following. “Wait. The guy who brought me flowers? Are you sure?”
“I do not think there
are many men carrying that name. I believe he gave you his real identity hoping
it would get back to Christian’s mother, eventually. There is no doubt among
the elders that Cerberus recognized Christian as his own.”
“But Christian didn’t
say anything about the guy other than he was immortal.”
“He likely did not
realize the male was his sire,” Larissa explained. “He has never met him.
Adriel left when Christian was only a seed in her womb.”
“Ew… he flirted with me.
I’m like his daughter-in-law.”
The other woman’s eyes
turned a darker shade of silver reminding Delilah of cut diamonds. “He would do
so to hurt Christian.”
“Where’s Christian now?”
“With the elders. He
asked me to stay here with you.”
“Where’s Adriel?”
Larissa looked away.
“Eleazar has put her below.”
“Below?”
“She was hysterical,
demanding things our people should not speak of. He sedated her and placed her
in a cell until he can deal with her.”
“Deal with her? What
does that mean?”
“Many years ago, my
husband found Adriel. She was so mistreated she barely recognized her own name.
Cerberus treated her worse than a reprobate treats a beast. Eleazar saved her
and helped her heal. There was no stopping the evil that spewed from her mate.
The elders do not value violence and so they dealt with him as humanely as
possible.”
“How?” Delilah asked.
Larissa met her gaze,
gone was the sympathy she normally saw there. “They buried him alive.”
Chills rushed up her
spine. “
What
?”
Larissa nodded. “It is a
practice only used when a lesson must be taught.”
“But you guys live, for,
like…ever.”
She nodded. “Without
food or blood our bodies begin to decompose. It is an agony I cannot begin to
imagine.”
“But the man I saw…he
didn’t look like a zombie or anything. He was, I’d hate to say it, hot.”
“We discovered not too
long ago that Cerberus had somehow managed to escape. It is from his loins that
Dane and Cybil hail. Adriel has feared he would come for her, but my husband
did not heed her concerns.”
“Maybe he’s right. Maybe
this guy just wants to freak everyone out.”
“I do not believe so,”
Larissa said. “We are in danger. Adriel is in danger.”
* * * *
Dane slipped out of the
bishop’s office and slid the rifle behind his back. Enough was enough. He
didn’t know what happened that interrupted their meeting, but he was done
waiting.
The council had rushed
him out the moment Eleazar returned. Something was going on that he wasn’t
allowed to know about. Dismissed as usual, he paced the halls, waiting for
someone to tell him what had happened. When no one came, he sat on the bench
outside of the bishop’s office, his mind wandering over the events of the past
hour, and then his eye caught on the glint of the weapon leaning in the corner
of Eleazar’s office.
A plan had taken shape
before he even realized he was moving. It was an old gun, but Dane had watched
enough Wild West movies with his dad as a child to figure out how to load it.
Once he had the rifle filled with powder, he eased the door to the office
closed, and found his way to the cellar below.
His footsteps echoed
down the long corridor, his strides set with determination. This animal killed
his mother. It was his fault they ended up here and his sister was now a
deranged version of the sweet child she once was.
When they first arrived
on the farm, after Cain had come to save them, Cybil had stopped speaking. It
was the result of witnessing their mother’s death.
Since boyhood, Dane had
the unique ability to catch glimpses of other’s thoughts. At least then he
could still manage to see parts of his sister’s mind. Now, all he saw was
nonsense when he looked for signs of rational thinking in her head.
He unlatched the heavy
door that barred the cell quarters from the rest of the Safe House. It was the
only place on the farm that remained locked, but he was granted a key in order
to visit his senseless sister whenever he needed.
When he first arrived at
the farm, these rooms were abandoned. Now, however, three cells were occupied.
He frowned at the new occupant. It was Sister Adriel. She lay sleeping on a
cot, curled in a tight ball. He didn’t understand why she was there.
As he passed her cell
his sister greeted him with an unwelcoming growl. “Quiet,” he snapped and she
hissed.
Red eyes turned on him,
mirroring the hollow gaze of the male in the cell beside hers. Isaiah bared his
fangs as if to smile. Dane lifted the rifle and pointed it at the animal.
“You’re going down, fucker.”
No sign of fear showed
in Isaiah’s blood red eyes. His lips curved as though this news pleased him.
Dane could have explained to the animal why he was about to die, but why bother?
His mother was given no explanation and Isaiah deserved the same.
He pulled the dated
barrel back and fit his eye to the scope. He wasn’t sure if he needed silver
bullets or wooden ones, but he was prepared to shoot the thing until it
breathed its last breath.
“Rot in hell,” he hissed
as his finger tightened on the trigger.
The hard reverberation
of the rifle slamming into his shoulder followed the crack of the gun going
off. Dane stumbled back a step and a roar ripped from his sister’s throat as
she climbed, like a spider up the bars and rattled them in their sockets. His
gaze shot to Isaiah who was staring down at his chest as crimson bloomed where
the bullet had landed.
He’d done it. He’d shot
the beast. But he was far from dead. Cybil continued to screech, stinging
Dane’s ears, as the whine of metal bending filled the room.
Isaiah’s blood red gaze
shot to Dane’s, a look of promise swirling in their muddy depths. And then all
sound ceased. They both turned and Cybil crouched, outside her cell, past the
now mangled bars, and panted.
Her head hung low,
blond, wild hair nearly snapping with energy as it swirled around her. Her
fangs parted as she seethed at him, murder in her gaze.
Isaiah purred and Dane
took a hasty step back, pointing the rifle at his sister. “Cybil…” he said,
knowing he wouldn’t break through the smog of insanity that had swallowed her
long ago. “Cybil, don’t make me hurt you,” he warned, hoping he wouldn’t have
to.
As the rifle pointed at
his sister, Isaiah growled like a possessed cat. Dane quickly turned and
shivered at the look of wrath in the male’s eyes. His gaze shot back to Cybil.
Her fingers splayed as
her claws lengthened, shoulders rising and falling with barely contained fury.
Her voice, nothing like the sweet melodic sound he recalled, splintered the air
as she panted, “He…is…
Minnnnnnne!”
The snap of her growl
ripped through the air as she sprung. The rifle flew out of his grip as his
back slammed into the cement ground. Pain sliced through him as her craws
scraped down his face. Warm, thick liquid filled his eyes, blinding him.
The growls coming from
her were inhuman. Shouts came in the distance, followed by numerous pounding
footsteps. Hands, slick with blood, tightened on his throat as he thrashed. She
was incredibly strong.
He fought through the
darkness bathing his vision and winking into his mind as his air was cut off.
Clawing at her, he frantically pushed, as deep male voices grew closer.
“Grab her!” someone
yelled.
There was so much noise.
The sound of metal twisting over the rising voices formed a deafening roar.
“Pull her back! She’s
killing him! He’s only a half-breed!”
Those were the last
words that registered as the pain suddenly relented. He rolled to his side,
gasping, and choking, fighting to pull air into his burning lungs. Voices
continued to shout and he swiped the blood from his eyes.
Through his blurred
vision he saw the elders, all of them, restraining his sister. She hissed and
spit and clawed at them. And then there was a burst of energy from the cell at
his back and everyone stilled.
Dane turned and there
was Isaiah, heaving with rage, only an inch away. Ezekiel was the first to
speak. “Do not, my
bredder.
”
Isaiah snarled and
tipped up his chin toward Cybil.
The men, who together
amounted to the strongest immortals on the farm, restrained Cybil and stood
straight, meeting Isaiah’s glare. “Harm one person here, Isaiah, and you shall
die before dawn,” Eleazar warned with frightening calm.
Isaiah’s head tipped,
left then right, sending an echo of bones cracking through the weighted
silence. The bullet wound seemed of no consequence to the immortal. He leaned
close and sniffed Dane and he knew his next breath was likely his last, but
Isaiah only purred and stepped past him.
The group of males took
a retreating step. Only Ezekiel remained where he was. Isaiah crept closer to
the man who was once his brother and slowly lifted a hand.
No one seemed to know
what to do. “Kill him!” Dane growled, his abused voice a mere rasp.
Ezekiel met his
brother’s deranged gaze and Isaiah placed a hand on his chest. Dane frowned. He
could not possibly recognize the other as his kin.