Authors: Nicole Grane
I didn’t have time to assess my surroundings. Richard pushed me aside as he collided violently with one of the wolves. I was surrounded in a matter of seconds. I gripped my sword tightly, swinging it at the closest one to me, surprising myself as I struck him down with one blow. I spun around, just as a large brown wolf jumped up and over me, to tear at the throat of another—it was Richard!
He didn’t seem as scary looking as the rest of them. His fur looked softer. Not ratty like the others. He was extremely large, more so than the ones he fought. I was glad he was on my side. Marcus was wise to leave me with him. He fought ferociously, protecting me from any threat.
But even Richard had his limitations. He’d been right. We were inundated in a matter of minutes. I kept close behind him, holding my sword at the ready, following him into the chaos. I slashed my way through the wolves, killing as many as I could. They were truly vile. I couldn’t imagine I would ever be like them. They were grotesquely huge. Their razor sharp teeth snapping at anything they could grab onto. Their piercing yellow eyes were haunting—I killed them without hesitation.
There he was . . . Marcus! I sighed in relief. He was alive!
A sharp blow to the side knocked me a good twenty feet from where I’d been standing. I shook my head, trying to orient myself. I didn’t know how, but somehow I’d managed to hold onto my sword. I looked around; I couldn’t see Richard anywhere.
“Who are you?” A voice hissed.
I stood up slowly, my sword extended between me and a vampire. My hand shook under its weight. “What does it matter?” I breathed, “I’m helping you.” My eyes narrowed as I watched him step slowly toward me.
He was a little smaller than Marcus. His hair was blonde and kept short above the ears. His eyes were red—darker somehow than Marcus's or Raymose’s ever were—and they were fixed on me.
I took a step back from him. I could hear my heart beat over the roars around me. I was terrified, and by the look on his face, he knew it.
“You’re human!” he hissed sharply, a sound of disgust coming off his tongue. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I can smell your blood . . .” His eyes popped open. “It’s not possible!” His lips peeled back, baring his teeth.
I jumped back, my sword raised higher now.
His head jerked around like a snake trying to decide where to strike. I gripped my sword tighter. Sweat began to drip from my forehead as he circled around me. I moved with him, joining in on the deadly dance.
“You’re a . . . werewolf!” He snarled, the sound almost feral.
“NO!” I shook my head.
“You lie! I can smell you.” He looked at me as if I were something dangerous and should to be killed instantly.
“Do not touch her, Javen!”
“Raymose,” the vampire spoke with such venom, the words nearly spat from his mouth. “She’s human . . . and wolf! She should not be alive!” he hissed.
“She’s Luther’s daughter and is therefore protected!” Raymose announced as he asserted himself between us, extending his sword. “You will not touch her.”
“She is not Luther’s daughter,” The vampire hissed. “I watched her die!” His words were cold and unfeeling. Something about them struck me.
“I’m warning you Javen. She is not to be harmed.” Raymose’s tone was deadly. I shivered at the fierceness of it.
“It’s treachery to protect her!” Javen snarled, inching closer to us.
“It’s treacherous not to!” Raymose roared. “She is your sister!”
The words echoed through my head. My mouth hung open as I stared at Javen in disbelief. “I have a brother?” I gasped. I hadn’t remembered that . . . why?
“You are
not
my sister,” he hissed. “My sister was no werewolf!”
I didn’t know what to say. I stood there, speechless. I had a brother?
“She
is
your sister,” Raymose growled. “And you will protect her as such!”
“No! She’s nothing more than a rabid dog,” he spat, staring angrily into my eyes.
Raymose hissed protectively. “You think you can get past me, boy?” Raymose’s words were sharp, yet taunting.
Javen’s eyes narrowed, deliberating his next move. By the look on his face, I could tell he’d been waiting for this moment for a very, very, long time. He grinned.
“Raymose.” I reached out and gripped his arm tightly—he held me back behind him. Javen took a step closer, his teeth clenched.
“Please, I’m only trying to help you,” I begged.
Javen ignored my pleas, focusing only on Raymose. His smile was sinister. “Luther will have your head for this . . . and I’ll have hers.”
Raymose pushed me back abruptly, just as Javen lunged for him. I landed several yards away. I scooted back, cowering on the ground as the two vampires fought viciously over me. Their bodies collided into one another with the force of giant boulders. Raymose, who always managed to keep Javen a safe distance from me, was clearly the better fighter.
I was so focused on their fight, that I didn’t notice Damen until he’d grabbed my arm and yanked me off the ground violently. He had his arms around my waist and had thrown me over his shoulder before I could protest.
“Put me down!” I screamed
“Are you crazy? You’ll be killed.” He growled under his breath as he ran with great speed through the chaos. “Javen wants your blood more than anyone.”
“What do you care?” I shouted over my shoulder. I tried to hit him with the back of the sword, as I kicked my legs, trying to free myself.
“You were foolish to come,” he snarled, ignoring my attempts to break free.
“Damen, let me go—and why are you naked again?”
He laughed a loud throaty laugh as he continued to run away from the fight with his bounty—I wasn’t getting away.
We’d just cleared the edge of the battlefield when a sudden blow hit us in the side, knocking Damen off his feet and into the air. I screamed out in agony as his body crushed mine against a tree.
A loud snarl, more menacing than I could have ever imagined ripped through the night. Marcus had Damen by the throat and had flung him over his shoulder with as much force as a wrecking ball smashing through a cement building—Damen had landed with as much grace, crashing into the ground.
Marcus planted himself in front of me, crouched, ready for an attack.
“Marcus,” I breathed.
A deep growl slipped from behind Damen’s teeth. His eyes, a sinister shade of yellow, were fixed on Marcus. He roared—
I covered my ears at the sound, shuddering as Damen transformed into a werewolf.
My eyes searched the ground frantically, looking for my sword . . . there it was, just a few feet away . . . I didn’t dare move toward it.
Marcus was already in the air before Damen had managed to get a foot off the ground. He collided with Damen again, shoving him back into a large tree trunk, smashing it to bits. The treetop came crashing down around them, trapping them between its large, tangled branches.
I dove for my sword. My fingers just barely touched the handle when Damen broke through the branches—my heart fell as he ran at me. I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact—I screamed, horrified. Blood was spewing everywhere. I scooted back along the ground. A loud yelp pierced my ears. Marcus had Damen by the shoulder, his teeth embedded into his skin, dragging him away from me.
Damen fought like a rabid dog, growling and snarling viciously. He kept trying to maneuver his way back to me. He rammed Marcus in the gut with such tremendous force; I didn’t know how he had the strength to get up. It was worse than any street brawl I could have imagined.
I kept jumping out of the way, but Marcus managed to thwart Damen’s efforts every time he came near me. It was a horrific sight to watch. I held my stomach tightly, hoping not to get sick. I didn’t want to see Marcus this way—bloodied and merciless.
Damen roared, ripping himself out from under Marcus’s bite. He flew at me again, his teeth coming inches from my throat. I jumped back, falling over my feet.
“Phoebe run!” Marcus yelled as he held Damen tightly around the neck—I could see blood dripping from his mouth. “Run!”
I turned away from them and began running. The fighting was everywhere. There was no escape route. Wolves came at me from every direction. I swung at them, not paying attention if I’d killed them or just wounded them. I kept on moving forward through the death and noise. I must have run around in circles. I could see Marcus running toward me through the smoke—yelling my name. I turned around just in time to see Damen rushing at me, his teeth bared. I swung my sword and caught him with the tip right across the chest—his blood splattered across my face.
He screamed out in pain as he fell backward onto the ground.
I ran. I didn’t care where I ran, just so it was far away from here. I wasn’t strong; I wasn’t the Phoebe they thought I was, the Phoebe I wanted to be.
The sky was getting lighter now. I choked on the smoke that hung low in the air. The torches had caught several trees on fire. Flames and smoke filled the valley floor. I’d ran up a small embankment, my fingers digging into the dirt, hoping to get away from all the noise and fighting. I stopped just at the top—my mouth gaping open.
“Aidric!” I whispered aloud. It couldn’t be anyone else. He was massive, just like Marcus had said. He looked like a gladiator, a block of muscle and strength, considerably larger than Luther. As for me . . . his leg was bigger than I was.
He had shoulder length brown hair that hung loosely around his face. His face was hard looking, yet . . . beautiful! He didn’t look much older than Luther. His features were sharp and enhanced by his yellow eyes.
He hadn’t seen me. I squatted down behind a fallen tree, my eyes just peering over the top as I watched him for a moment. He was beating his fist on a boulder. Pieces of the rock were breaking off around it.
I glanced back down at the battlefield. The vampires were pushing the werewolves back. Somehow, they’d gained the advantage.
Luther! He was off his horse, slaying the wolves himself! Fighting alongside his men—he was amazing. The strength and determination on his face left little room for doubt that he’d ask nothing less of his men than he was willing to do himself. I was proud to be his daughter.
I pried my eyes away, looking back to Aidric. He was growling at the wolves around him. They cowered as he ranted.
“No,” I breathed out loud. I put my hand up to my mouth, not trusting myself to remain quiet. I crouched lower to the ground. I understood him! Just as I’d understood Damen. This had all been a trap to lure Luther out into the open, away from the safety of the coven where Aidric could kill him. He didn’t need me like Damen thought. I’d have simply been a pawn, icing on the cake, as Aidric enjoyed the torment Luther would have endured at his daughter’s death—no doubt slowly with great pain before his eyes.
The wolves hadn’t been able to find me, but it was of no consequence now. I’d have been the backup plan, which was no longer needed since Luther had so gallantly joined his comrades in arms. He was prime for the taking—and who better to secure that victory than Aidric. I could see the lust in his eyes as he glowered at Luther with untold hatred.
I looked back to my father, watching him for a moment. He moved so lithely, effortless slaying the vicious beasts that attacked him and his men. I couldn’t let him die! If I could get to him before Aidric and warn him . . . I’m sure he’d forgive Marcus for keeping me from him . . . for loving me the way I am. He had to! If Luther died, there’d be no stopping Aidric from killing the others. Raymose, Richard, Marcus . . . not my Marcus!
I could feel my blood start to boil at the thought of Luther’s death. I slid back down the hill, into the smoke, into the fighting. I had to run fast if I was going to get to Luther before Aidric did. All wounds I’d incurred—forgotten as I pushed my body to run hard. My heartbeat sounded like thunder, like a drum hammering, readying the troops for battle. It drowned out all other noise.