Fields of Blood (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 2) (11 page)

“We’ll be fine,” Sadie said. “Just go.”

“If you say so,” I mumbled, glancing in the rear view mirror. No crazy slashers—but I saw the wash of a pair of headlights slowing down as a vehicle rolled past the turnoff from the main road. Maybe it was the sheriff, still on the prowl for mysterious black vans.

If it was, I really hoped she didn’t come down here. Sadie had said we were going to someplace called Run Hill Road, and this definitely wasn’t the right way there. I still didn’t think Sheriff Gormann had completely bought our story—and all she had to do was check with the Laurents, whoever they were.

I had my foot on the brake, ready to shift into gear, when a bright flash of light exploded from the path, momentarily erasing shadows and blazing through the pine branches like white fire.

“Oh my God,” Sadie half-whispered. “The moonstaff. They wouldn’t—”

Something howled. The long, hungry sound shivered down my spine.

Sadie grabbed for the door handle. “Stay here. I’ll handle them,” she said angrily, popping the door to jump out and slam it shut before Taeral or I could protest.

That was when I noticed the silent column of shapes pouring out of the path. Tall and loping and furry, moving impossibly fast. One of the shapes launched itself from the ground and sailed through the air.

And a werewolf landed on my hood.

C
HAPTER 15

M
etal crunched and buckled with the impact of the werewolf’s leap. It crouched in front of the windshield, gold eyes glittering and muzzle wrinkled in a silent snarl to show long ivory fangs.

“Uh, Taeral—”

It was all I got out before the werewolf threw a fist at the windshield, and shattered it.

“Shit!” I scrambled over the seat. The wolf’s growl chased me as it crawled through the broken glass, over the steering wheel.

In the back, I found Taeral dumping one of the bags we’d brought on the floor. “Where are the weapons?” he shouted.

“No time! We’ve got company,
now.
”

He cut a glance at the front and swept an arm out. “
À dionadth
,” he said.

The air behind the seats rippled like a desert mirage, seconds before the werewolf lunged. The snarling beast smashed into nothing with a startled yelp. Shaking its head, it roared and reared back to slash at the unseen barrier.

“What the hell is that?” I said, remembering I’d seen him do it once before at Milus Dei headquarters in New York. I didn’t have time to ask about it then.

“A shield. Help me find the guns.”

I grabbed the nearest bag, shaking my head. “They’re werewolves,” I said as I yanked the zipper open. “Bullets don’t stop them. Unless they’re silver.”

“They’ll slow them down.”

“Shouldn’t we let Sadie—”

Something smashed into the side of the van, hard enough to dent the wall and rock it up on two wheels.

“Right,” I said. “Slowing them down is good.”

A long beat of silence made me look back. The glass-smashing werewolf was gone. I really wished I could believe that was a good sign.

Before I could dump the bag I held, there was a tortured shriek of metal from the back of the van as one of the doors was ripped off the hinges. A massive paw battered the other door, folding it like an accordion.

Two wolves jumped in, grabbed Taeral and dragged him out.

Okay, I wasn’t going to find the guns in time. Change of plans. I half-turned, headed for the front where the fangs and claws weren’t—only to collide abruptly with the invisible shield I’d managed to forget about.

When I turned back, I was face to face with the werewolf who’d landed on the van.

I hadn’t even heard it coming.

It grinned and grabbed my throat. The grip was like steel, choking the breath from me. I grabbed the arm with both hands and tried to force it away, but it was like pushing on cement.

My blades. I had two of them in my jacket—and I knew werewolves could bleed.

The wolf dragged me toward outside, and I thrust a hand in my pocket. My vision dimmed with the lack of air, and dizziness threatened to spin me unconscious. My fingers brushed a handle.

As I gripped the curved dagger Taeral had given me, the wolf jumped out of the van and lifted me by the throat. Its lips curled in a wicked, toothy smile.

I pulled the knife and plunged the blade through its forearm.

The wolf let out a pained roar. Its grip relaxed, and I dropped to the ground. As I scrambled to my feet, gasping for breath, I saw three of them batting Taeral’s limp body around like a volleyball.

Two more of them were hauling an unconscious Sadie up the mountain path, into the shadows.

Then a dark shape knocked me to the ground, pinning my shoulders with massive paws.

A growling face loomed inches from mine. Teeth snapped a whisper from my throat. The second werewolf pulled back, grinning—and made a rumbling, liquid sound that was almost a laugh.

The one I’d stabbed crouched next to me, the dagger still in its arm. Grinning like its pack buddy. It grabbed the knife handle, pulled the blade free with a snarl and stared at the runes carved into the metal.

Its gold eyes narrowed on me. “
Fae,
” it rumbled, glancing at the wolf who still pinned me down. Then it pitched the knife away and straightened. “
Kill it.
”

“Whoa, wait a minute!” I tried to buck free, but the second werewolf didn’t budge. “We’re Sadie’s friends,” I said breathlessly. “We came to help.”

The first werewolf glared down at me. “
Hurt it. Then kill it.
”

Before I could say anything else, the second werewolf hauled me up and threw me.

I smashed into the side of the van at about mach two. Pain filled the world, forming a dazzling curtain across my vision. It cleared just in time to see a furred hand grab my shirt and yank me forward—and to feel claws rake burning gashes across my gut.

Then I was airborne again.

I crashed to the ground hard. Despite the fresh infusion of agony, I scrambled up as fast as I could, searching my pockets for the other knife. The wolf was a blur rushing toward me. I jumped aside, and it barreled past.

Something behind me grabbed my arm and twisted back and up. I let out a breathless shout as I was forced to my knees.

As the other werewolf whirled and came back toward me, sirens wailed through the air, and the night turned blue and red.

So that car had been the sheriff.

Another long howl rose from the mountain path. In response, the wolves trying to kill me snarled in disappointment. I was shoved to the ground, and they took off running.

Great. No way in hell could I explain this to the cops.

Somehow I managed to stand and take a single, stumbling step toward the silent heap that was Taeral, ten feet or so away from me. I knew we had to get out of here. At the same time, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Part of me was trying to decide whether to try the van or just drag Taeral and head for cover, even as I sank to the ground and hit my knees hard. I was still planning to grab him and run when I doubled over and coughed up a lot more blood than I’d ever seen coming out of a mouth.

The last thing I heard was tires crunching on gravel, squealing brakes, and slamming doors. Then blackness closed over me.

C
HAPTER 16

C
onsciousness was reluctant to come back. Whatever waited beyond the haze, it wasn’t going to feel good—but something told me the potential pain wasn’t the worst of it. All I could remember was that things had gone horribly wrong.

And there had been werewolves involved.

That pulled me awake. Pain and dizziness surged through me when I opened my eyes, and I had to squeeze them shut again until breathing stopped hurting. I managed to figure out that I was lying on my back, and the firm, cold surface beneath me wasn’t the ground. Unfortunately, being inside didn’t seem like a good change.

This time I opened my eyes slowly. The bright blur above me gradually resolved into ceiling tiles done in industrial ugly. Just to the left, bars ran down from a metal beam bolted into the tiles. I was in a prison cell.

I tried to sit up. But I’d only managed a few inches when my left arm wrenched and I slammed back on the floor.  Snarling in pain, I turned my head carefully to find my wrist cuffed to one of the bars.

Okay. This was bad.

I looked the other way. Across the small, bare cell, the bars on the opposite side formed the wall of the next cell. Taeral lay on the floor of it, his normal hand cuffed to the bars. He was bloody and bruised and not moving at all.

And Sadie’s pack had…kidnapped her?

That didn’t make any goddamned sense.

I gritted my teeth and started inching myself upright, sliding the cuff up the bar as I moved. Everything in me felt like brittle twigs, ready to snap with the slightest motion. The bloody furrows carved across my gut throbbed almost as bad as my head. Once I was sitting, I reached back gingerly with my free hand and touched the worst spot.

My fingers came back smeared red.

“Taeral.” Speaking made my throat clench and my eyes water. I took a slow, fortifying breath and tried again. “Taeral, wake up. Don’t be dead.”

Nothing.

“Taeral!” The shout spiked pain behind my eyes, and I winced hard. He had to be alive. Werewolves couldn’t kill Fae…could they? And besides, the sheriff wouldn’t have handcuffed a dead body inside a cell. “Taeral, please,” I said as loud as I dared. “We have a problem.”

“Just one?” he murmured without opening his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed. “Next time, answer me when I ask if you’re dead.”

“Technically, you did not ask.” He shifted slightly and hissed. “Do you know where we are?”

“Looks like the sheriff’s station.” I turned my attention to the rest of the place. Four of these box-like empty cells, really more like cages, along the back wall of a large room. The rest of the space contained two desks, a table littered with folders and loose paper, and a bunch of filing cabinets. The single door had a frosted glass window with the word HOLDING printed on it, backwards from this side.

A schoolroom-style clock on the wall read quarter to ten. So we’d been out for at least five hours. With no windows in this room, I couldn’t tell if it was a.m. or p.m.—but I really hoped we hadn’t lost most of a day.

One corner of Taeral’s blood-lined mouth lifted slightly. “Perhaps we should have killed her when we had the opportunity.”

“No. She’s just doing her job,” I said. “Besides, she probably saved our lives showing up when she did. Those wolves were going to kill us.”

He grunted. “They’d have tried.”

“Well, it sure as hell seemed like they were succeeding.”

Just then the door to the holding room opened. Sheriff Gormann walked in and strode toward the cells, one hand resting lightly on her gun. “If you need medical attention, you’ll have to wait,” she said. “I know your friend wasn’t Michelle Laurent, and I know what she is. Are you one of them?”

I decided to play dumb on the off chance she meant some other family. As a rule, people didn’t generally believe in werewolves. “One of who?”

She pulled the gun. “This is loaded with silver bullets. Don’t think I won’t use it.”

Okay, so Sheriff Gormann was the exception. “No, I’m not one of them. Neither is he.” I sighed and shifted so I wasn’t leaning on the bars. “Look, Sheriff. We’ve obviously been assaulted. Usually the law locks up the violent criminals, not the victims. What’s the deal?”

“The
deal
, Mr. Black, is that I searched your van. And what I found was a lot of weapons and a couple of beds. One of them with restraints. This leads me to believe that you may be involved with the disappearances.”

Her tone suggested that by ‘may be involved,’ she meant ‘you’re definitely the perps.’

I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to explain that the bed with restraints was for dead people. “All of that is legal,” I said—which was mostly the truth, except for the guns. “I’m a contractor for the NYPD. Get in touch with Captain Abraham Strauss out of the twenty-first precinct. He’ll verify it.” At least, I hoped he would. Abe usually went along with my crazy schemes, but this might be a little too much for him.