“Get in!”
Winn didn't waste unnecessary words on questioning how, why, or what they were going to do. As fast as the ship was going down, they'd be lucky to launch the glider before they were smashed to bits in the forest and jagged rocks below. He suspected from glancing at the charts in the chart room that they were somewhere over Germany, or maybe France or Austria, but it was impossible to know for sure.
He clambered into the swinging pod and secured the thick strapping about his waist. He was a big man, and it was a tight squeeze. While there was precious little room in the pod, he managed to shuck off his Stetson, his pack, and his rifle and stow them in the open space within the narrow nose of the pod. The whirr and chug of the props losing the ability to spin and seizing up grew louder.
“Ready?” she yelled over the din.
He gave her a thumbs-up. She turned, putting her petite hands on a large lever in the wall of the cargo hold. Winn suspected that it would open the panels beneath the glider.
“Wait! How are youâ”
She squeezed the release at the top of the lever and pulled down hard. The bottom of the airship's cargo hold tumbled away into open air, leaving the glider swinging by only the hook above an expanse of sky. Winn gripped the edge of the glider tightly, all words shriveling to dust in his throat. He had no idea how she planned to reach the glider now that there was no floor except for the narrow section where she stood.
The wind whipped her dark hair into streamers about her face as she crouched near the precarious edge. Surely she couldn't ...
Like a tightly wound spring finally released, she leapt from the floor onto the front of the pod. The hook holding the contraption gave an ominous moan.
Her eyes widened with terror as her boots scrabbled for purchase on the smooth exterior of the pod. Winn grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled her up, his arms burning with the effort. She squeezed into the pod atop of him, her backside brushing all the way down his chest as she slid into position. An ear-splitting crack startled them both as the hook gave way, pulling the ring out of the pod completely and jettisoning them into flight.
To her credit the contessa didn't scream. She squirmed herself into his lap, her round bottom pressing firmly down on his groin, and strapped herself in for the ride.
The glider shot out of the cargo hold of the falling airship, a mechanical bird soaring through the gray mounds of misted clouds.
“How do you control this thing?” Winn yelled over the deafening rush of wind. His mouth was very close to her ear, and the scent of night-blooming flowers and the spicy female scent that was purely her teased his nose.
“You don't! The best we can do is guide it. I designed it to be a glider, not an airship.”
“Then how do we land it?”
“From the looks of things I would say the trees will take care of that before we ever hit the ground.”
Winn glanced back at the airship, its shape considerably sadder now that half of it was deflated. The rigid structure had crumpled in parts from the rapid descent. He looked over the nose of the small craft. The thick forest showed no hint of a forgiving opening where they might land the glider. Perhaps they'd fallen from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.
The trees were getting closer. “Who do you think shot us down?”
“Given we're in the midst of Bavaria, most likely Hunters. But then it could be the werewolves or the
Sidhe
as well.”
“She? What the hell are those?”
“Dark fae. They've chosen to side with Rathe, so we find ourselves in negotiations with them more frequently.”
“You call a volley of arrows taking down an entire airship negotiations?”
“Hostile negotiations,” she amended.
Great. He was likely going to crash in these dark woods with no one to rely on but a bunch of vampires who were on hostile terms with the other Darkin in the area. Winn was beginning to seriously reconsider why he'd ever left the good ol' United States in the first place.
“Brace yourself,” she warned.
Chapter 13
The only place Winn could put his hands was on the front edge of the pod, which required him to extend his arms around the contessa, placing his fingers on either side of hers.
The soft swell of her left breast brushed against the inside edge of his forearm, and Winn tensed, aware of the temptation. It was one thing to be working with a supernatural, and something else entirely to be so physically aware of one. One he ached to touch. It was unacceptable that he was consumed with the notion of kissing a vampire, and worse still that he wanted a promised woman.
Far below, Winn caught a glimpse of something moving beneath the trees. The swift, dark forms merged and separated, following their progression as the pod dipped lower. The glider skimmed the tops of the trees, shushing as the fir boughs brushed the bottom of the pod, releasing their sharp evergreen scent. There was nothing below them but trees; not a house, not a curl of smoke to be seen, and daylight was fading fast.
A shift in the wind caused the pod to dip slightly to the left, catching a canvas wing in the trees and tipping them over. Winn pulled the contessa back into his chest and tucked his head down, using his arms to spare them both the worst of the beating from the tree branches as they tumbled downward toward the forest floor.
A violent jerk stopped the glider's motion. The apparatus hung by the framework of one shredded canvas wing to a thick tree branch.
“I think you can let go of me now.” Her voice sounded muffled from beneath the protection of his arms.
Her hair tickled his nose and smelled of jasmine. Maybe he didn't want to let go of her. Winn released her, and she pulled away as far as the small confines of the pod would allow. She glanced over her shoulder, bringing her mouth perilously close to his. Her eyes were bright, filled with intensity, her hair a riot of dark, tumbled curls. Winn imagined she'd look much the same in bed. Damn.
“You sure about that?”
She shivered slightly. “No.”
The branch creaked as she shifted her position. It was still easily a twenty-foot drop to the ground, and Winn didn't fancy getting any broken bones this far from nowhere, out in hostile territory. “I don't think this branch is going to support us for much longer, and that's a mighty big drop.”
She arched a brow at him. “I've jumped far worse.”
He'd been shocked at just how far she'd jumped to reach the pod. “Can all vampires jump like that?”
“The older ones. Our combined weight is too much for the branch,” she said as she wriggled out of the pod, in the process rubbing up against him with her bottom and making him ache uncomfortably. The tree branch swayed dangerously.
“If I jump, then you'll have more time to climb down safely.” She scooted out onto the front of the pod. Winn could tell she was calculating the distance. She tipped her head up, the tip of her pink tongue brushing her upper lip, and awareness of what it was like to kiss her flashed fresh through his mind.
“Don't. We'll climb down together.”
She smiled at him. “You're sweet to worry for me, but it isn't necessary. Wind is from the west,” she murmured, and with that she leapt into thin air.
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Branches cracked and snapped as Alexa tore through them on her way to the forest floor. Fortunately the drop wasn't too great. She landed in a crouch on the ground, letting her knees absorb the shock of her fall. She slowly rose and glanced up at Winchester, still suspended in the ruined glider. From this distance he reminded her of a Christmas ornament in a very tall tree.
“Are you going to join me?” she urged. The sooner they left this area the better.
“Not like that, I'm not,” he replied as he carefully maneuvered his way out of the pod, loading his pack and the holstered rifle onto his back and grabbing his hat. Hunters. They were nothing without their toys.
She sniffed the wind, trying to scent out their distance from the Castle Barranoch. It lay on the edge of the border with France. The moldering smell of ancient stone and fresh blood reached her, but it was tainted with the feral scent of wet wolf. The castle was fifteen miles to the northeast, and the wolves were no more than a few miles away, between them and the protection of the castle. She swore heartily in Russian under her breath. For herself she wasn't afraid. She was stronger and smarter than any werewolf. But the Hunter was merely human, with all the frailties that entailed.
“Insufferable creatures,” she muttered to herself. When they later retrieved the wreckage of the airship, she had no doubt that it would be
Sidhe
bolts recovered. No one else but the dark fae who lingered in the Black Forest could shoot that distance accurately, which was bad news. It meant the
Sidhe
and the Russian werewolves had formed an alliance in her absence. While the werewolves had brute strength, the
Sidhe
had more powers. It was a formidable combination. Now that the
Sidhe
had brought down their airship, the werewolves were closing in for the kill.
Where are you? Are you harmed?
Enric's insistent voice, edged with worry, penetrated her mind.
The Hunter and I are fine, for the moment. How far are you from Castle Barranoch?
We transported there, per your instructions.
Excellent. Remain there until I arrive. Inform Count Vernay that we have landed and need an escort through the forest. There are werewolves on the ground, and I suspect
Sidhe
in the forests. We shall be arriving shortly.
His Majesty is not going to be pleased his airship was wrecked.
Pfft. He can have another built. He'll be more worried if we allow these werewolves to kill the Chosen.
She kept a close eye on Winn's progress down the tree. A crackle in the underbrush caused her to tense. Alexa sniffed the air, her gumline beginning to throb. The wolves were still a few miles away; this was a different scent altogether. Gunpowder, oil, and leather.
From the bushes sprang five men, all armed and pointing their weapons at her. Helsing crossbows, loaded with silver-tipped arrows that could pin her to a tree in less time than it would take to transport herself away from the clearing. Each of them had a scabbard at his side, the handgrip of their swords easy for her to see even in the gathering gloom.
“I think we have us a lone vampire, men, and one worth ransoming from the look of it,” said the blond man, German by the sound of him, a glitter of avarice in his eyes.
Alexa hissed at them. Damn Hunters. “Where is your honor? Do you not have treaties with His Vampiric Imperial Majesty?”
“What that old vamp doesn't know won't bother him,” the blond Hunter sneered. “Take her.” Two of his comrades lowered their crossbows, shifting them to their backs, then pulled out their swords and started forward.
There was a crack just above her, and Winn dropped from the tree between her and the Hunters. He sprang up, armed and ready to fight, the Amanarath stretched and loaded.
“Not so fast, boys,” Winn said slowly in German. “This vampire happens to be off limits.”
The blond Hunter stepped forward, brandishing a blade with a twist and flourish of his wrist, making the metal flash.
“Drop it.” Winn held the Amanarath poised and pointed right at the Hunter's chest.
“Identify yourself,” the Hunter demanded.
“You first. I'm gettin' a mighty itchy trigger finger. Takes a lot of thought to control it. Might hit every one of you before I get my control back.”
“I'm Lieutenant Victor Van der Hoff, a Hunter with the Saxe-Coburg regiment of the Legion. And this vampire is in our custody.”
“Is she now? How do I know you aren't just making that up?”
Van der Hoff quickly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, pulling it aside. A tattoo of the triple cross, bracketed by a lion, palm tree, and raven at the points, was inscribed over his heart. He was definitely a Hunter. No one else would want a tattoo that ugly. “Satisfied?”
Winn nodded and lowered the crossbow slightly from his shoulder. “I'm Winchester Jackson, part of the Legion out in the Western territories of America.”
“A Slayer?” one of the others behind Van der Hoff said, a note of derision in his tone. Two of the others snickered as if it were some kind of a joke.
Winchester frowned. He didn't know what they meant, but he knew he didn't like it. Choosing to ignore them, he locked gazes with Van der Hoff. “Our airship went down. We're trying to get to Castle Barranoch.”
Van der Hoff jerked his chin in the contessa's direction. “What about the vampire?”
Winn's hands tensed on the Amanarath, ready to aim and fire in an instant if it became necessary. “She's my guide.”
One of the Hunters in Van der Hoff's party gave Alexa a lewd appraisal. “To what?” he interjected.
Van der Hoff glared at the other member of his hunting party. “Hold your tongue, Werner. I'll ask the questions.” He turned back to Winn and switched to speaking English. “What are you looking for? Perhaps we can help you, and you can give her to us in exchange.”
Winn raised the barrel of the Amanarath an inch from Van der Hoff's face. “No deal.”
Van der Hoff smiled, but it didn't reach his pale green eyes. They remained as unyielding and cold as deep lake ice. “All right. No harm, no foul, Slayer. But you can't possibly want to protect that Darkin.”
For a moment the irony did sink in. Here he was protecting a Darkin, and a vampire at that, from other Hunters. Pa would have risen out of the grave and kicked his ass if he'd known. But this wasn't a normal situation. He needed her help. “My bow begs to differ with you.”
A bloodcurdling howl tore through the night, and all of them turned to peer at the dark maw of the forest. “Werewolves!” Alexa shouted as she ran up and grabbed Winn's arm, almost causing him to misfire the bow. “We're running out of time!”
“Correction,” Winn said as the shadows burst from the trees. “We're outta time.”
The twenty or so wolves were far larger than any Winn had seen before. They were the size of grizzly bears, and while most of them were gray, there were a few brown, white, and black wolves among them as well. With coordinated movement they circled him, the contessa, and the small band of German Hunters.
“Insufferable weres,” the contessa muttered, her voice turning more guttural and growl-like as her face shifted and changed.
By now it didn't shock Winn as much, even though the sight of her in her fighting mode still disturbed him. She hissed, and the wolves came to a stop. They were close enough in their formation that Winn could see no easy gap for him and the contessa to get through.
He changed his target for the crossbow, grateful Marley had offered it. Winn's mind quickly calculated his options. With only fifteen shots in his rifle he would have been out of ammo before dispatching all of the wolves. He had that pathetic water shooter, but he didn't trust it to do more than slow the wolves down. And it wouldn't do anything to the Hunters. If he ran out of bolts, he could likely take out the other Hunters with his rifle butt first, backed up by his fists if necessary.
“Kill only if necessary,” the contessa warned under her breath.
Winn nestled the crossbow against his shoulder, ready to let it release. “They attack, then it's all necessary.”
“Hold your bloodthirst, Slayer.” Van der Hoff's voice itself was irritating right now.
Winn wanted to tell the Hunter to go screw himself. This was no time to be some pasty, yellow-bellied mama's boy. It was kill or be killed. That's how it always went in these kinds of situations. Negotiation was done by whoever had the least dead. Period. “This ain't bloodthirst. It's survival, and I swear I'll kill every damn one of them if I have to.”
The wolves glanced at one another, ears twitching as if they talked to one another the way the contessa did with the other vampires. The hair on the back of Winn's neck prickled up like an agitated porcupine.
A few of the wolves growled low and belly-deep, their black lips curling up to reveal razor sharp, yellowed teeth. It was a veritable Mexican standoff with the furries on one side, and the Hunters and vampire on the other. “They don't look like they're here for a tea party, Van der Hoff. What do you wanna do here?” Winn prompted. His finger was getting itchy to pull the trigger on the bow as tension pulled at the muscles in his neck and shoulders.
“Hold,” Van der Hoff ordered.
“You don't even know what they want.” Winn's thigh burned with the tension of the muscles beneath his skin.
“Does it matter? They're Darkin.”
Winn's mood darkened further. He didn't see a good way out of this. He edged closer to the contessa. “I thought you said there were treaties for this sort of thing.”