A rough-looking crowd milled around the open space, everyone dressed in leather and denim, their exposed skin displaying piercings and tattoos. Some whooped, hollered and even growled or laughed and clapped each other on the shoulders, as if they hadn't seen their pack-mates in a while. Others strode around, their eyes constantly surveying and their bodies tense, as if on guard. We parked at the head of a long line of bikes, the engines still rumbling, when they all suddenly turned and stared at us. Owen had lifted the cloaks and shields.
Tristan gave my thigh a squeeze. I self-consciously swung my leg over to dismount, everyone still watching us, some of their eyes piercing us like laser beams, others full of curiosity. When he and Owen cut the engines, I didn't think I'd ever heard such dead silence. Then they all dropped to a knee and lowered their heads. Thinking it was some kind of Were greeting and wanting to show them respect, I began to sink down, too. Tristan grabbed my upper arm.
"They're bowing to you," he said under his breath.
Oh. Right. Royalty and all that crap.
Since they hadn't responded to Owen's calls … and just
looking
at them … I hadn't expected all the formalities. In fact, I thought they'd be more hostile than Blossom's Aunt Sylvie. Instead, this big biker gang was honoring
me
.
"What do I do?" I whispered when no one made a move to rise. Nobody had bothered to teach me how to act in such situations. Was I supposed to say something? Give some kind of salute?
Blow kisses?
"Follow me." Tristan took my hand, and we walked toward them, his stride full of confidence. As we reached the outer edge of the crowd, a big, burly man barged out of one of the RVs.
"What the hell's going on?" he barked. He took in the crowd, and his dark eyes followed their attention to Tristan, Owen and me. His strides covered several yards at a time as he came toward us, a beer bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other. His black leather vest strained against his barrel chest and exposed bulging, tanned arms decorated with multiple tattoos. He went down on one knee in front of us, and his shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair, which matched his goatee, fell forward as he quickly bowed. Unlike the others, he didn't stay down and as soon as he rose, so did everyone else. He must have been the pack's leader.
"What the fuck do you want?" he growled at us.
Tristan looked at me, back at him and raised an eyebrow.
"This is
my
house. If she can't handle it, she shouldn't be here." He looked me over, from head to toe and back up again. "But something tells me she can. So. What the fuck do you want?"
"Just a moment of your time," Tristan said. He sounded polite, but his jaw muscle twitched, and his voice was steel-hard.
The pack leader narrowed his eyes and lifted his finger, which he shook in Tristan's face. "I ain't talkin' to you. I ain't stupid. You got no business comin' here and ruinin' our party. Get the hell out before you regret comin'."
Tristan grabbed the Were's hand and leaned forward so their faces were only inches apart. His voice came out low, almost a growl. "Get your finger out of my face before
you
regret me coming. I don't think you want me to embarrass you in front of your pack. I might accidentally kill you, and I really don't want to take over as their lead. So back off and take us somewhere we can talk."
The leader's huge arm muscles bulged as he tried to pull out of Tristan's grip, but he wasn't strong enough. Tristan kept hold of him until he finally relaxed and nodded his head.
"And show some respect for my wife," Tristan added as the Were jerked his hand free. "
She
leads
you
."
"Not yet. And not ever, from what I gather," the Were mumbled under his breath. He strode past us, headed for a clump of trees and brush. He threw a jerk of a wave at his pack, who pretended as though nothing had happened and returned to their party.
Tristan, Owen and I followed the leader into the trees. When the party became a distant hum of noise, he finally stopped and spun on us.
"I ain't got nothin' to say to you," he said.
"Do you even know why we're here?" Tristan asked.
"No. And I don't want to. I ain't gettin' in the middle of things. My pack don't bother no one, and we don't want no one botherin' us."
"We only want to know if you've heard anything about a young girl, about seven years old, probably brown or red hair. We have no idea who she's with, but my guess would be a witch."
"I don't know nothin'."
Tristan looked at me. I followed the Were's mind signature, and something flickered in his thoughts. Some kind of familiarity. Right as I was about to grasp the full thought, screams pierced the air overhead. Shadows passed over us, and we all looked up. Two gigantic, black birds tucked their wings close to their bodies and dive-bombed toward us.
I flattened myself to the ground, and Owen was instantly on top of me. Tristan and the pack leader stood on either side of us, both in protective stances. The birds dove at us again and Tristan hit them with his power. Black feathers exploded.
"Just birds, but under someone's control," he said.
Chaos erupted from the party. The screams and yells weren't playful anymore, and feral growls and bays joined the racket.
The next thing I knew, I was lifted from the ground, and air rushed past me.
"Get her in that one!" the pack leader growled, jerking his head toward the RV he had come out of earlier. He exploded into a giant silver wolf as he ran for his pack.
Owen dropped me to my feet inside the little living room of a decked-out RV.
"You okay?" Tristan asked me, surveying my head and body.
"I'm fine." I rushed to the window that looked out to the clearing full of the wolf pack. "But they won't be."
People disappeared, replaced by wolves of various colors and sizes, their were-pulp splattering everywhere–a chunk hit the RV just below the window. Daemoni vampires swarmed in from all sides. The party became a battle. Wolves and vampires lunged and knocked each other to the ground. Wolves' muzzles latched onto their enemies' limbs while vamps' fangs sunk into their necks. Blood spurted and bones snapped. Fighting duos became blurs of motion.
"They'll kill each other," I whispered with horror. "Not for us. Not again."
I placed my hand on the hilt of my dagger and flashed into the middle of the battle.
"Stop!" I bellowed over the ruckus as I drew out my weapon.
To my amazement, everyone actually stopped. And stared at me. My eyes scanned the crowd. Wolves panted, but otherwise remained still. Vampires looked as though they'd turned to stone, their red eyes watching me.
"It's me you want, right? Us? Leave them out of this!"
"Damn it, Alexis," Tristan muttered after he and Owen popped in right next to me.
"I stopped them," I whispered.
"Fine! Have it your way," one of the vamps yelled, and they slowly closed in on us.
"They're not exactly stopped," Owen said. He, Tristan and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the vampires encircling us. Owen held his hands out, ready to fight with magic. Tristan, always strategic, seemed to just stand there, but I knew he was calculating, planning his attack and how he would defend both of us at the same time.
"Well … at least they're distracted," I said.
"
Use your mind
," Tristan told me as the vamps came closer.
Of course.
I made the thought sound confident for his benefit, but I didn't feel it. I didn't know if I could use my one major advantage in this large group of people. Especially without alerting anyone I even had the power.
"Let's do this," Tristan growled, and faster than a blur, he'd pulled a razor-sharp disc from his belt and sent it flying at a random bloodsucker, severing its ear before even the vampires could react.
That did it. The vamps put on their speed and charged us. Tristan hit the closest ones with his power, and they dropped to the ground. He continued hitting more, and Owen and I helped with our own powers until they swarmed on top of us, and it became mano-a-mano. Well, sort of. They vastly outnumbered us.
I swung my dagger in an arc at the two leeches rushing at me, and they jumped out of reach, afraid of the silver. They separated enough to take me from both sides. I used my left hand to shoot lightning at the male vamp and used my right to wield the knife at the female. She dodged my swipes, and he tried to out-move me, but the electric current zapped him until his skin turned purple and smoke rose. He disappeared with a
pop
.
The female, with black hair that made her skin look whiter than white, moved fast–faster than the human eye could see–but so did I. Just one-on-one, I could focus on her mind and knew her plan before she charged me. I jumped out of her way and swung my dagger in a perfect, smooth move that sliced across her stomach. The slash wasn't deep–not deep enough to kill her–but she screeched with pain from the enchanted metal.
"You bitch," she shrieked, flying at me again.
I jumped and cartwheeled in the air, getting another swipe across her back before I landed on my feet. Another male blurred toward my left as the female, weaker now, charged me again. Remembering everything Charlotte and Tristan taught me, I did a roundhouse on the woman, kicking her in the jaw and sending her backwards several yards. At the same time, I jabbed my dagger at the male, and it sunk three inches into his ribs. Hearing his thought about flashing, I jerked it out before he disappeared with it still in him. The female took advantage of this moment and jumped on my back. Her height and my lack of it made her feet drag, bringing us down. My dagger flew out of my hand and skidded across the ground, out of reach, as I sprawled on my stomach, the vampire on top of me.
I wiggled under her, trying to reach for my other knife on my left side. She pinned my hips down with her full weight. Her hand pushed between my shoulder blades, pressing me into the ground with all of her vampire strength. Then she grabbed my hair and yanked my head backwards so hard, I was surprised my neck didn't snap. Tristan and Owen both caught sight of my struggle, but neither could do anything, occupied with their own fights. I writhed again, but it was no use. The vampire weighed me down like a boulder on a sheet of paper.
"Vanessa and Lucas will be pissed," she said, her voice hoarse and gravelly, "but … oh, well. Your blood in my veins will be worth it."
She leaned down for my throat. I reached back, grabbed her thigh with my right hand, and forced my Amadis power into her. She wailed a toe-curling scream. I gathered the power in my body and, as I had once done with Tristan, I pushed the bubble outward. She exploded off of me. I rolled, grabbed my back-up knife and sprang to my feet in time to see a silver werewolf jump at the vamp flying in the air. He knocked her to the ground and tore into her limbs. His actions signaled the other wolves to rejoin the fight.
Tristan, Owen and I had already taken out several of the Daemoni, evening our numbers. I fought with just the knife until Owen finally had a chance to toss my dagger to me. No one could beat me one-on-one. A weapon in each hand, I read my enemies' minds and danced out of their way, taking my own swipes as I spun, twirled and flipped around them. My silver blades dug mercilessly into their skin until they could stand no more and disappeared. As soon as Tristan had the chance, he swung his arm around and hit the remaining vamps with his power. They all disappeared with a resonance of
pops
.
Tristan and Owen instantly stood by my side, and we quickly assessed each other for injuries. Owen had a cut over his eyebrow, but that was all.
"Let's get out of here," Tristan said, taking my hand. We headed for the bikes.
"Wait," snarled the pack leader from behind us, his voice not quite human.
We turned and waited for him to finish transforming. Avoiding his nakedness, I averted my eyes, but all the wolves were shifting, as well. So I stared at the ground.
"Come with me," he said, and he started for his RV.
We hesitated and then, without a word, followed the pack leader.
"The name's Trevor," he said once we were inside. He went into the back room and came out with fresh clothes on. "I do have somethin' for ya."
Tristan crossed his arms over his chest.
"'I don't know nothin'," Owen quoted, his voice perfectly mocking Trevor's. The Were narrowed his eyes at Owen for a moment, but then he looked at me, and they softened.