Blood Reign (#4): Alpha Warriors of the Blood (The Blood Series) (16 page)

Tony lay in the center of the highway, a rural intermediary route that fed to Interstate 90. He was all about getting his ass to Montana, murdering all the Singers he could, and moving on to the next region.

Praile would be proud, if anything as evil as him could feel pride.

Tony waited, succumbing to his acute senses. He'd do anything to shift to his wolf but that wouldn't work. He needed to let precious minutes slide by to make better time. Sacrifice the now for the later.

Night had fallen and he was finally in a position to mask himself. Blood dried and flaked off his clothing and skin. Only his eyeballs were free of it. It didn't bother Tony in the least but it would give the human he hoped to steal a ride from pause.

That's why he'd waited under cover of the woods until it was too dark to see anything with detail. A human's weak eyesight would never be sharp enough to see what covered him, but a wolf would smell the blood almost five miles away. A Were's nose so sensitive that it could smell the tenor of injury.

Murder was exciting. The blood Tony wore was akin to a dinner bell clamoring. He didn't want that, either.
What if stupid, rule-follower Manny is still around?
He didn't want Lawrence and Manny catching on to who and what he was. It would go badly. Manny he could dispose of, but Lawrence The Alpha? Short of using the blade, Tony didn't think he could put him out of his misery.

So he waited. The pebbles of the old asphalt road, not re-covered for years, dug into his back. His soaked clothing molded to each tiny stone as they pressed uncomfortably.

Finally, his sharp hearing captured the noise for which he'd lain there hoping.

A car was drawing nearer.

*

The stupid human didn't see him. He was going to have to fake a resurrection or something to get their vehicle to stop. He certainly didn't have time to heal the damage from a car running over him.

Tony flopped like a fish, his senses carefully noting the heat of the car’s headlights as they sliced over his body. The faint aroma of rubber as the tires bit the nubby black road and pressed to a skidding stop about six inches from his arm.

“
Fucking close,
” Tony grumbled.

He cracked an eyelid, playing dead. A couple of old geezers peered at him over the dash.

The man swung the heavy car door open, and Tony was relieved the thing hadn't flattened him. Chrome shone like strips of silver along the fins of the 1960 Chevy Impala that sat idling in the center of the road.

What the fuck?
Is this old dick not going to get out and check on me?

Some humans had a drop or two of Singer blood. It made them wary, intuitive.

Figured he'd get the one in a thousand.

He slammed his eyelid shut.

The old guy shambled over toward Tony, his own heartbeat so loud he could hardly hear the old fart over it. It always roared like a lion before he killed others.

He felt the press of air before whatever the old guy held touched him.

Tony snapped his hand out, latching onto something smooth.

He opened his eyes, and the man's widened.

The blood,
Tony surmised.
He's gotten a load of that.

“Tessa!” the codger screamed. “Gun!”

Fuck this,
Tony thought. He grabbed the end of a cane and twisted it sharply, easily breaking the old man’s grip.

Tony stabbed the cane backward, envisioning driving it through his stomach to the other side.

Breath wheezed out of the guy like a popped balloon. He wrapped his gnarled hands around the cane, and Tony sat up.

Huh
. Tony grinned. The cane had speared the old fuck, and his guts were now decorating the back. Nice.

Tony bounded to a standing position and roundhouse-kicked the old man with every ounce of his Were strength. He spun, tottering to a splat on the ground like a bowling pin. His chrome dome pegged the asphalt and bounced once, smacking the surface a second time. It cracked like an egg.

Brains spilled over the black surface like an underdone breakfast, leaking out over the road.

He did a pivoting swagger, facing the wailing banshee in the background, and the first spray of bullets penetrated his chest like spears of chucked salt.

Tony opened his mouth, but the damage disallowed breathing at the moment. He toppled backwards.

What the hell is that noise?

He realized his body was trying to heal the shot. Not one bullet but effectively hundreds.

Shotgun.

Fuck me.

Tony sat hard on the ground. The impact traveled his spine and landed in his skull with an instant, sickening headache.

More worrisome still were the twin barrels of a sawed off shotgun leveled at him.

“Don't do it, you dumb old bitch.”

“I'm not old, and it's you that's the dumb one. Lying out in the middle of fucking nowhere and killing a man who was there to help.”

Tony looked at her and his spirits dropped like a rock.
Could his fucking luck get worse?

She lifted the shotgun and flung the butt into his chin. It rocketed him back six feet, and he landed on his back.

Stars like tossed diamonds mocked him in a velvet sky.

“I'm the Alpha female he picked up.”

Her grin was like the wolf that she was.

The next stab of the butt had Tony's head spinning. “Fucking bitch!” he slurred.

“Sticks and stones, 'tard,” she said conversationally.

Praile burned inside his skull, almost enough to keep him conscious. He passed out as she dragged his body by one arm across the road.

In the end, a rogue Were female had taken him by surprise.

*

Tessa hauled the Were to a ditch and kicked his body into the gully that flowed with a foot of water, though it was the height of summer.

This little journey had been sketchy at best, and now she had an additional mess to worry about. She generally didn’t concern herself with humans. The old man who'd given her the ride hadn't been a neutral acquaintance.

When the male Were had casually murdered the human male, a surge of irrational anger had surprised Tessa. He was a dumb human.

However, no one had ever shown her kindness. She was an unprotected, unmated female Alpha, and no male let her forget it. But this old human had trusted her.

Somehow, Tessa had failed him.

She would not fail him now.

Tessa left the unknown male in the ditch. It was more than he deserved. Much more.

If she had the balls, she'd drown him. Tessa looked at the water inside the swale and hesitated.

Then her gaze found Gus. She could already smell the decay beginning on his body.

He deserved a burial. He had been a good human.

She reluctantly left the Alpha male and went to Gus. She easily lifted his limp body and swung it over her shoulder. Tessa opened the back door of his vintage car and carefully arranged his body in the back. With a final glance at the Were, she slid into the driver's seat and took off.

Tessa should have smashed his offensive skull in. Or noticed that the murder of many lay like a cloak of dried venom over every bit of his body. Subduing the threat, and Gus dying, had simply gotten her too wrapped up. It was what she did.

It was what she'd had to do.

Tessa would again.

Tharell proceeded ahead of Julia and Jason. The pretense he maintained grew thin. Though the fey did not typically embrace luck, the Were could not smell a lie on a Sidhe. Their flesh simply didn't exude a detectable emotive scent. However, the Were were astute to the body’s subtle tells. Tharell had not lived centuries atop centuries to learn nothing of other supernaturals. Because of his mixed blood, he could manage distance from Faerie better than others could.

He was sharp to the alert of vampire proximity.

Vampires could bring true death to the fey. They had always been mortal enemies. It had been most interesting that a distant Sidhe had chosen to lie with a vampire to produce the mixed-blood, Delilah. If they had ever allowed Tharell to choose a mate, she would be a temptation. There was something so attractive about dallying in the forbidden.

A pungent smell touched him, and he held up a hand in a halting gesture.

Footsteps ceased from behind, and Julia stood beside him. “Have you found them?”

Tharell nodded. He had endured almost forty minutes in the accursed metal vehicle, holding onto his churning guts by a thread. When he could finally exit, he'd felt instantly well. The steel tomb of the vehicle coupled with the jarring ride across moving terrain had been a challenge.

“They lie beneath us.”

“Something smells like snake piss.” Jason wrinkled his nose.

“An apt analogy,” Tharell murmured. He lay on his side on the forest floor. He could hear the death bringers rise for the night like tunneling earthworms seeking the surface.

Tharell leapt to his feet and backed away, grabbing the Blooded Queen as he did.

“Hey!” Jason followed the movement and anticipated where Julia would be as Tharell swung her away from the area. Jason gathered her against him before Tharell’s slow spin left her.

The Red Weres stepped back as a group.

The earth began to roll. The blanket of grass and rocks that dotted the surface undulated as though a large serpent did indeed live beneath the plot of soil.

Vampires burst through the earth. Large gaps like dirty mouths yawned from the ground, allowing the undead to eject like rockets. Tharell forced his hand away from the dagger at his side with monumental effort. His skin crawled with the need to slay the death bringers.

He held his instincts in check. Constantly reminding himself of the end result.

The goal: infiltration of Faerie.

The vampires held nothing in check. They assailed the intruders of their territory with a unity borne of purpose.

An eerie light shone, leveling the vamps that rushed the group.

It came from Julia, spectral, perfect, and dominating everyone within range.

Tharell fell to his knees before it. It was captured sun. Fissures of jewels lay mercy to its glitter, shards of light speared the supernaturals all, and the vampires cried into the heat of it.

Their shrieks and howls were painful even to Tharell.

“Stop,” Julia commanded softly. Tharell dared to look at the Rare One, and she stood shining. The light was integral to her being, and she looked the part of the blood she carried.

Angelic.

Tharell’s demonic blood boiled in direct response, her purity water to the oil inside his veins. He reveled in the contrast, drowning in his shame, claiming emotion so strong he thought he would never feel again.

The vampires crawled to Julia's feet for her subjugation, laying their heads between hands cupped as though in prayer.

The light dimmed then finally grew dark.

Tharell allowed himself a single, shattered breath. The first of a half-dozen he forced into his starved lungs.

He had never endured anything so terrible. His gaze went to his skin. A light smolder evaporated as quickly as it rose. Tharell darted his eyes around to see if anyone had witnessed the evidence of his lineage, but all eyes were on the vampires.

Relief left the tips of his fingers and toes tingling.

Jason was the only one who remained standing; the rest of the group were daze. Shaken.

Julia began with one word. “William.”

The vampires' heads rose from the pillows of their hands.

When she had finished speaking, the vampires no longer lay on the earth's floor but stood at her side.

Tharell shook his head. Julia Caldwell was fulfilling her role as every supernatural bible said she would. Even the book of Faerie mentioned her coming, and the opposition that would present itself.

Tharell sometimes wished the small things in the millennia since his birth had not grown so large in his mind or so black in his heart.

Tharell steeled himself for what would come to pass.

His thoughts broke as introductions were made. The one who seemed to be the leader confirmed it. “I am Brynn, William's second. We knew of his death when our power was depleted.”

Tharell lifted his eyebrows. The news puzzled him.

“When he died, it made you weaker?” Julia asked.

Brynn surveyed the group. He was counting his numbers as less,  Julia's sheer talent range and identity necessitating his submission.

His answer was an unhappy “Yes.” His black gaze fell on each of them. “However, we regain what we've lost day by day. We rest at day and feed at night.”

“On anything?” Truman asked. Even Tharell could hear the human sarcasm in his tone. He found it interesting how the newly changed Were so often wore the shadow of who they had been in their previous life.

“No,” Brynn said softly. “It must be humans.”

Julia sighed. Tharell watched, saying nothing. Jason put his arm around her.

“I am sorry, not for what we need to consume to live, but that you're bothered by it,” Brynn said. He and the five others of his small kiss kept their eyes on the warrior.

Not a good development.

“No,” Julia responded softly. “I stayed with the Seattle coven for over a year. I know what it was.”

“Gabriel?” Brynn inquired and Julia nodded.

“He's the bastard that started all the trouble with your coven. If it hadn't been for him being in bed with your leader, William might be alive right now.”

Tharell didn't correct her, though William had been dead the instant he stepped inside Faerie. No Sidhe would allow a death bringer to live within. They were too opposite, enemies for centuries. The bite of a vampire was disastrous, as Queen Darcel learned firsthand through the hybrid, Delilah.

Brynn cupped his chin, alabaster skin slightly shining in the paleness of the moonlight like polished bone. “None of us have the blood of the Singer; there are no shifters. Much of what we've lost has been by your hand.”

Julia shook her head. “I can't deny that when you entered our lands we used lethal force.”

Brynn barked out an unhappy laugh. “Yes, very lethal.”

Tharell knew of the burning corpse's flesh. The Singers believed in fire as a cleanser.

“Remember, your leader tortured William to find me.”

“I do.” His gaze remained on the Rare One. “I have agreed to the alliance. There was much potential in William's leadership now lost. Though the sacrifice was worth it.”

Julia bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“There are not enough Singers to lose every Region to a wolf gone mad. As vampire, we understand the potential shift in the food load if the highest blood quality is suddenly expunged from existence.”

Julia looked ready to make a scathing comment at the comparison to livestock when the Red Were broke in.

“A demonic,” Slash said, and Brynn turned to him with a nod.

“Worse. But it doesn't matter. If the Were bleeds, he can die.”

He could bleed
,
Tharell knew.

“Once true death is upon him, the strength of the metal is no longer fueled by his genes. He is gone. The blade will grow dim and be no more powerful than regular metal.” Brynn looked around him, gauging the understanding of his words.

Julia inhaled deeply in relief, and the Were and vampire regarded each other as tentative allies. It might be the time Tharell needed.

Now to find a surface of water and convey to Gabriel what had transpired. If he played things perfectly, it would seem as though the two covens had previously allied, and they would be blamed. If more were killed, then the babe Jacqueline carried would go to its calling.

Tharell couldn't anticipate every eventuality, and part of his future was yet unwritten. However, sometimes the inherent excitement of living lay in the very unpredictability of an uncertain future. It was all Tharell truly had. The only color of living.

“Where is Region Two?” Brynn asked, and the vampires gathered around him shifted in readiness.

“Montana,” Julia said. Tharell could taste her reluctance to give away the location of another Singer retreat.

However, it was the lesser of the evils. Knowledge of the vulnerable Singers’ location was critical to assist in the protection of the indefensible.

Tharell smiled, made his excuses, and wandered off before the untenable car trip to Region Two began.

He would find water while the vampires moved ahead with their part and secured the perimeter of the Singer fortress of America’s north central region.

Tharell would leave forthwith.

Right after speaking to Gabriel through water and magick.