Kodiak Chained (38 page)

The hatch shuddered as it started to give, and Saxon moved to the side, ready to fight for his life.

Then the wailing of sirens resounded in the night, and flashes of headlights cut erratically through the darkness.

The cavalry was arriving at last.

Dirk finally grabbed Angela’s hand and raced with her toward the road.

The hatch burst open.

Calleigh stood shoulder to shoulder with Saxon as the werewolves surged forth in full, vicious splendor. He started shooting and didn’t stop, and they began to fall, the dead delaying the living and buying him time. But there were just too many of them, and one injured wolf hurtled into him, nearly dragging him down.

Calleigh whirled and shoved, using her strength to send the wolf flying.

They backed away from the hatchway, Saxon still shooting, but there were so many of them. Too many.

For every werewolf that fell, at least two more came.

But then he felt the ground tremble as the squad cars came roaring up, and dust rose around him as he was joined by Keeghan McMurtree and a horde of men in uniform, guns blazing.

“Werewolves... Your bullets...” Saxon began.

“Silver, of course,” McMurtree said with a grin.

The wolves fell by the dozens then, dying as animals, twisting in their death throes, becoming human again. Someone rushed past Saxon, and he realized that it was Calleigh. She was carrying a tear-gas grenade that she’d taken from one of the cops, and she was streaking toward the open hole in the desert floor.

“Calleigh!”

He called her name just as Carl Bailey appeared in his mammoth silver glory. He raked out a massive hairy paw and brought her down, then dragged her against his massive chest and open, slavering jaws. The grenade fell into the hatch.

Choking fumes rolled out and filled the night air.

Saxon couldn’t fire: he might hit Calleigh.

Saxon shoved his way through the stragglers still coming at him and pitched himself atop Carl Bailey’s shimmering silver back. He clawed at the wolf with a strength he’d never even suspected he possessed. His gun went flying as he wrapped an arm around Carl’s massive neck and tightened it in a choke hold.

Distracted by the attack, Carl loosened his grip on Calleigh, who slipped free as Saxon and the wolf rolled together through the dust and dirt. Cacti pierced Saxon’s flesh, but he didn’t feel a thing.

Finally Carl pinned the Elven cop beneath him, and Saxon looked up and saw Carl’s predatory eyes on his. Saw his gaping maw. Saw his canines as he bent down, saliva dripping, to savage Saxon’s throat.

Elven had strength, Saxon reminded himself.

And cunning...

He waited, then rolled at the last second.

The werewolf took in a mouthful of dust, and Saxon leaped to his feet.

Carl made a quick recovery, rising and standing for a moment, silhouetted against the moon, a giant silver-haired man-wolf in all his strength and glory.

And then a shot rang out and he fell.

Blood soaked the ground beneath his body as he melted back into human form.

Saxon turned and saw Calleigh holding his gun in a two-handed grip, arms still outstretched, ready to shoot again. And she was shaking.

He walked over and wrapped his arm around her. She was beautiful, tall, slender, vulnerable there in the darkness.

He didn’t speak; he just held her. He could hear McMurtree and the others finishing their cleanup of the remaining combatants.

Calleigh pressed closer to him. “I’ve just killed my own kind,” she said softly.

“You had to,” he said. “You saved my life.”

She flashed him a smile. “No, you saved all our lives. I’m not sure he would have been a match for you, but...”

“But?”

Her eyes met his. The same eyes that could seduce, that could kindle with pure wickedness, were, at this moment, completely giving, and as bright and beautiful as the sun.

“I don’t like to take chances, you know?” she whispered.

McMurtree walked over to them and gestured at the bodies strewed across the desert. “How the hell are we going to explain this?” he asked.

Chapter 7

The City News and Herald
Las Vegas

Desert Raid Puts End to Militia Threat

A violent militia group with an underground stronghold and vast cache of weapons was brought down last night in the desert outside Las Vegas.

Inside the secret underground complex police found evidence connecting the dissidents to the recent deaths and disappearances in the city. Police speculate that the militia leader orchestrated the violence to destabilize the city and facilitate an attempt to take control.

The death toll is still being determined, but police have revealed that two prisoners being held by the cult were freed in the raid. The names of the dead are presently being withheld, pending notification of next of kin.

Captain Clark Bower of the police is among the dead; his position is being temporarily filled by Lieutenant Keeghan McMurtree, one of the officers who led the assault.

Further information will be made available as it is released to the press.

“N
ot bad,” Calleigh said, putting down the paper.

She and Saxon had escaped the frenzy in Vegas and taken a suite in a luxury hotel in Reno. Calleigh was curled up next to Saxon on a deeply upholstered love seat. He was staring out at a view that, unlike what every window in downtown Vegas offered, was not of neon lights or man-made towers.

These plate-glass windows looked out over the majestic splendor of the mountains.

Calleigh touched his cheek. “Good story, don’t you think?”

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but she kissed him, and that was the end of the conversation.

* * *

She was sleek and beautiful. She had skin like silk, radiated heat like the sun and demonstrated a range of passion to match the golden fires that burned in her eyes.

Her kiss had the power to turn his blood to lava. She could move as if making love were the most exotic dance known to man, and she had the ability to make him forget himself and the world, leaving him absorbed in a feeling of wonder that they were alive and together.

They lay in each other’s arms on the floor in front of a leaping fire, sated and spent.

She turned and looked at him, stroking his face as he stared back at her in wonder.

She smiled slowly. “News flash. Elven cop seen with Vegas entertainer. Can a true Elven find happiness with a half-breed werewolf?”

He smiled. “I seem to be too worn-out to think of an answer.”

She smacked his shoulder lightly. “Cut me some slack. I’m laying my heart at your feet.”

He grinned and rolled on top of her. “You are half Elven,” he reminded her. “Making love...it’s a pretty amazing deal for the Elven, you know.”

She touched him, intimately. Even now she could get him sizzling again, kindle another fire in his loins—and fingertips, muscles, tendons, blood, toes....

“I know,” she told him wickedly.

“I know I won’t ever let you out of my sight again,” he told her.

They both jumped at a thunderous knocking at their door.

“Get dressed,” he said to her, reaching for his jeans.

A moment later he checked to make sure she was decent, then made his way to the door, checked the peephole and opened it, his expression a mix of welcome and surprise.

Keeghan McMurtree smiled and walked in, accompanied by an entire group of Keepers. He immediately started making introductions. “This is Brad Thierson, Keeper of the New York City werewolves.”

“And we’re all appalled by what Monty Reilly let happen in Vegas,” Thierson said.

“I’m Eamon MacDonald, leprechaun Keeper, Dublin,” another man said.

The introductions went on, with Calleigh standing behind Saxon, both of them confused as to what the hell was going on.

“Think we can sit down?” McMurtree finally asked.

Saxon nodded, and Calleigh led the way, seating them and asking if she could get them something to drink.

“I’m not going to waste time here,” McMurtree said to Saxon once everyone was settled. “You’ve been chosen to head a new council.”

“What? Why me? And what kind of council?”

“A council of Keepers,” McMurtree explained.

“But I’m not a Keeper,” Saxon said.

“Doesn’t matter—hell, maybe your independence makes you an even better choice,” McMurtree told him. “You see the need for a centralized system of regulations, of checks and balances, the one to insist that the Keepers need to have the power to maintain control, so that they don’t fall prey to the powers of the very beings they are born to control.” McMurtree grinned. “All you have to do is set the date and the place, and Keepers from all over the world will be called to a summit. Bailey wanted a New World Order—well, we’re going to create one, and it’s going to be based on a code that’s fair and rational and backed up by the power of a worldwide network of Keepers. It’s complex. I realize that. But we need you—not just as a figurehead, but because of your ethics and your beliefs, your strength and your courage.”

Saxon looked at Calleigh, awed, uncertain, even a little bit afraid of the responsibility that was being handed to him.

“Put your money where your mouth is, big boy,” she suggested softly.

He stood. He was being given the opportunity to be part of something that could change the world—and not only his world—for the better.

“When do we begin?” he asked huskily.

“In the morning,” McMurtree told him. “Invitations will go out across the world and a true governing council for the underworld races will become a reality.”

With that announcement, McMurtree stood and pulled Saxon in for a hug.

Moments later the visitors were gone, and Saxon looked at Calleigh. “Is it possible?” he asked.

She slipped into his arms. “All things are possible,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his. “All things. Because I’m here, with you.”

He took her into his arms. When she was with him, he realized, he did indeed believe that all things were possible.

“News flash,” he said. “Elven cop finds life, purpose and everlasting happiness in the arms of a half-breed werewolf.”

And just in case she wasn’t sure he meant what he’d said, he proceeded to demonstrate exactly how true his words had been.

* * * * *

When Vampire Keeper Rhiannon Gryffald moves to L.A., she finds herself in the middle of a vampire’s killing spree. Joining forces with Brodie McKay, a gorgeous Elven cop, may be her only hope of survival as they discover a conspiracy that shakes the Los Angeles theater scene to its core....

* * *

Read on for a sneak peek of KEEPER OF THE NIGHT by
New York Times
bestselling author Heather Graham.

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Keeper of the Night

So many of the paranormal races—the vampires, the shifters, the elven and more—traveled there, and many stayed, because where better to blend in than a place where even the human beings hardly registered as normal half the time? With so much going on, no one set of Keepers could control the vast scope of the Greater Los Angeles underworld, and so it was that the three Gryffald cousins, daughters of the three renowned Gryffald brothers, were called to take their place as peacekeepers a bit earlier than had been expected.

And right when L.A. was on the verge of exploding with underworld activity.

Hollywood, they were about to discover, could truly be murder.

* * *

There was blood. So much blood.

From her position on the stage Rhiannon Gryffald could see the man standing just outside the club door. He was tall and well built, his almost formal attire a contrast to the usual California casual and strangely at odds with his youth, with a Hollywood tan that added to the classic strength of his features and set off his light eyes and golden hair.

And he was bleeding from the throat.