Master of Wolves (21 page)

“Go!”

Just beyond him, Faith glimpsed Sheri. She was struggling with a uniformed cop, who was bent over her throat. White fangs glinted in his open mouth.

Shit,
Faith thought,
Celestine must have gotten hold of that grail!
If she didn't save Sheri, the girl was dead.

With a growl, Faith raced toward the vampire as he buried his fangs in Sheri's neck. Without breaking step, she raked her claws down the vampire's back. He howled and dropped Sheri. Started to turn…

Claws spread, Faith hit him with all her strength right in the side of the head. Blood splattered. She didn't stop to see what she'd done to him, just grabbed the blonde, heaved her across her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and ran. Sheri shrieked in her ear.

“Shut up!” Faith bellowed. “I'm trying to save you!”

If she could just move fast enough, she could get the waitress to safety and get back to help Jim.

“There she goes!”

Faith looked back and saw two werewolves racing after her. One was a blonde, the other as red-furred as herself. She had no idea who they were. Shit, how many cops had Reynolds bitten, anyway?

It didn't matter. She didn't dare stop until she got the waitress to safety. Otherwise the weres would kill Sheri, and all this would be for nothing.

Desperately, Faith put her head down and ran for her life, ignoring the waitress's terrified screams.

 

Surrounded by her
new troops, Celestine watched from the shelter of the trees as five of her werewolves fought the one Ayers had identified as Jim London. Power poured off them in blazing waves of pain, magic, and rage. As fast as Celestine drank the energy in, it kept coming.

London was so skilled and strong that even outnumbered, he held his own.

“Shit,” one of her new vampires breathed. “Man, feel that. All that power.”

“Oh, yeah.” Another fledgling swallowed hard. “Smell the blood. It's…God, I want some. Celestine, let us—”

“Not yet,” she snapped. “I want this to go on a little longer.” Her mind raced.

A fight like this with all seven werewolves would produce a staggering amount of power, far more than just sacrificing London the way she had Shay. Enough to provide her new fledglings with a significant magical charge.

Then they could feed on London after they got him down. A creature that size would have a great deal of blood.

Celestine frowned, watching Ayers stagger back from a particularly vicious claw swipe. The only problem was the risk that some of her own wolves might be killed in the process.

Then again, so what? It would just be more life force and more blood for the rest. If it came right down to it, she could always have the survivors create new were recruits.

On the other hand, the conditions could be controlled a little better. As it was now, London might decide to run for it.

“TASER him,” she ordered. “I want to take him back to the house so we can do this properly.”

They nodded eagerly and started forward, drawing their freshly charged weapons.

Once it was over, Celestine would have the power for another crucial spell, one that would draw the entire adult population of Clarkston to her. Since there were five thousand people in the town, she'd have the makings of a decent army.

The vampires closed in on the battling werewolves, TASERs in hand. The first set of probes flew, biting into London's shoulder just as he ripped out one of the weres' throats. He fell, convulsing. More probes flew.

Celestine smiled in satisfaction as the enemy were went down at last.

 

Rain pelted Faith
in hard needles she felt even through her thick fur. She ignored the sting, concentrating on keeping a grip on Sheri's wet body as she bounded through the woods at full speed.

She could no longer hear the sounds of the rogues' pursuit, but she wasn't sure if she'd lost them or if the wind and rain simply drowned it out.

Breaking out of the trees, Faith spotted the dark silhouette of a house and darted for it. Taking refuge in a thick patch of shadow, she crouched to wait.

“What—?” Sheri began.

“Shh!” she snapped, peering back the way they'd come. For the past twenty endless minutes, she'd backtracked and dodged, her gut knotting tighter with each second. Too often, the scent and sound of her werewolf pursuers had driven her onward.

Now she listened hard, rain dripping from her muzzle and running down her back. Faith ignored it, staring intently into the trees.

Nothing. Not a shout, not a movement. Faith let herself sag in relief. She'd lost them.

Straightening, she turned to Sheri. “Do you still have that cell you used to call us?”

The blonde, soaked and shivering, stared up at her. “Us?”

“I'm that girlfriend Jim mentioned. Have you got the cell or not?”

She sniffed. “In my pocket. They gave it to me in case he called back.”

“Good. Is there somebody you can call—not 911, obviously.” Faith grimaced. “Last thing we need is another cop.”

“My brother lives right outside Clarkston.”

“Good. Call him.” She rose and started toward the woods.

“Wait! You're just going to leave me?” Sheri called.

“If I don't get back to Jim, he's dead,” Faith told her, and began to run.

 

Guinevere saw the
vampire's hands glow as he gathered his magic for a blast. She threw up her shield just as he launched it. The energy splashed off her magical barrier in a shower of electric blue sparks, pulsing with death energy. She reinforced the shield until the sparks faded.

Knowing it would take her foe a couple of seconds to recharge, Gwen dropped it and blasted him with all her strength. But the vamp ducked. The spell shot harmlessly past his head as he charged, sword lifted, apparently meaning to kill her with pure muscle.

But before he could bring his weapon down, Arthur's familiar battle cry rang over the field. Excalibur's blazing magic lit up the vampire's face as he whirled to block the stroke. Arthur only hacked harder, trying for a head shot that would end the battle.

Magic flashed off to the right, and Gwen threw up a shield barely in time to deflect it from her husband. Even so, the blast almost punched through.

Merlin's beard,
she thought in despair,
the bastards are getting more powerful!

That was the problem with warring against an enemy that used death magic. Every fighter who went down—even their own—provided the Geirolfians with more and more death and pain to power their spells. That left the Majae at a disadvantage, since their magic came from the Mageverse itself. It didn't decrease, but it didn't increase either.

Gwen threw a desperate glance around Avalon's central square as magical blasts lit up the castles, mansions, and villas. Everywhere she looked, Magekind and Sidhe alike were locked in brutal combat with the Geirolfians. Technically, they had the enemy outnumbered, but with the bastards getting stronger with every death, that was fast becoming a moot point.

She turned toward her husband again just in time to witness the distinctive blaze of Excalibur's magic, followed by a spinning dark shape. Arthur had just sent the Geirolfian's head flying.

Panting, she met her husband's weary gaze through the slits in his helm. His armor was splashed with blood, some of which was his. Through their Truebond, she could feel the leaden weight of his exhaustion. She felt no better herself. “We can't keep this up,” he told her. “We've got to get that grail!”

He was right. If they could just find and destroy the cultists' Black Grail, the resulting magical blast would wipe out most of the enemy. Whoever remained would be easy prey.

Gwen gathered herself and reached out her magical senses, struggling to concentrate despite the screams and clash of battle. Straining, she could just feel the grail's distant malevolence. “It's still out there.”

“Can you do that location spell you mentioned before?”

“Yes, if I can get five minutes of quiet. We don't want any of these bastards following us to it.”

He nodded. “I'll call some of my knights. We're going to need help.”

A magical blast lit up the city, so bright they were forced to shield their eyes. “We'd better make it fast,” Gwen told her husband. “Or there won't be an Avalon to come back to.”

 

“You want us
to do what?” George Ayers stared at Celestine in disbelief. He'd taken some nasty injuries at the hands of Weston and London. They'd healed as soon as he'd transformed, but they'd hurt like a son of a bitch. And now she wanted him and the other weres to fight the bastard again for no good reason?

“What's the matter, George?” Celestine asked in a contemptuous feline purr. “Afraid you can't take him?”

“Of course we can take him.” Reynolds curled his lip. “There are six of us. We'll rip the pussy apart.”

George eyed him. “That ‘pussy' killed Dave Green.”

He shrugged. “And I'm looking forward to giving him a little payback. Unless you're scared…”

He stiffened angrily. One thing no cop could tolerate was an accusation of cowardice. “I just don't see any reason to fight in some kind of pit with that bastard like something out of
Fight Club
.”

Celestine's eyes narrowed. “I told you, I need the power for my spell.”

“So rip out his heart. God knows you've done it before.”

“Yes,” she said on a note of silky threat. “I have, now that you mention it.”

George flinched.

Then he remembered the damage he'd done with his claws. The bitch could hurt him, but he could hurt her, too. He lifted his chin. “So take care of him.”

“My men are hungry,” she said through gritted teeth. “They need to feed on a strong power source. One way or another, you're going to provide us with what we need.”

George opened his mouth, ready to tell her exactly what to do with her power source.

Then he became conscious of the eyes on him, eyes hot with bloodlust and growing anger. The eyes of men who had once obeyed his orders without question.

But they weren't really men anymore, and the orders they obeyed were no longer his.

Celestine was right, George realized with a chill. They were her men. And if she gave them the order, they'd tear him apart just as surely as they would London.

He swallowed. “Fine. We'll take him out.”

A slow cat smile spread across Celestine's face, feral and terrifying. “I knew you'd see it my way.”

Jim pressed his
muzzle against the airholes on one side of the metal crate. When he'd been in human form, he'd had to curl in a ball to fit between the box's narrow walls. He'd Changed to wolf the moment his powers returned. Becoming a Dire Wolf was out of the question. There was simply no room.

He'd still been stunned from the TASERing when the witch had conjured the box and ordered him stuffed inside before magically sealing it shut. Jim figured it wouldn't be long before they'd drag him out, TASER him again, and cut his heart from his chest. Sick fear gnawed at him, mixed with building claustrophobia from being in a box with no door.

But what really terrified him was the thought of Faith at the mercy of these lunatics. He knew good and damned well she was charging to the rescue even as he sat here. She was psychologically incapable of leaving him at the mercy of Celestine and her band of psychopaths.

The problem was there were just too fucking many of them, and they were too powerful. There was no way Faith could fight them all. And since they'd taken both his cell phone and that useless key chain, she couldn't even call Charlie or Diana for reinforcements.

So like the suicidally heroic twit she was, she'd come alone. In the middle of her Burning Moon. To run right smack into a pack of werewolves and bloodthirsty vampires who'd delight in raping her and cutting out her heart.

Helpless rage surged through Jim. He wanted to scream. He wanted to kill somebody.

He had to do something, anything, no matter how pointless.

Bellowing curses that emerged in animal howls of fury, he flung himself against the sides of his enchanted cage, ramming his body against the metal walls over and over, ignoring the pain of the impacts. The cage didn't give, but that didn't stop him from trying again. And again.

And again.

Faith!

“Cut it out!” a male voice yelled. Something banged against the top of the cage. “Save your energy, London. You're going to need it.”

Jim growled at his tormentor.

Suddenly the crate swung into the air. He lurched, then braced his legs apart as the metal box began to rock. They were carrying it somewhere. Jim tensed.

The moment they opened it, he was going to make somebody bleed.

“What do we do with it?” a voice asked.

“Throw it in,” Celestine replied, excitement in her voice.

Shit!
His stomach lurched as they swung the crate back, preparing to hurl it. His ass slapped into the rear panel as the box flew through the air and arched downward.

It hit with a stunning impact, tumbling over and over, rattling Jim around like dice in a cup. He bit his tongue and tasted blood.

Light flared as the cage disappeared from around him in a swirl of magic.

Finding himself free, Jim immediately called his own magic. It surged around him, but even as his body transformed to Dire Wolf form, he wondered why the hell they were allowing it.

Warily, Jim straightened to his full seven-six and took a cautious look around. Smooth black rock walls surrounded him, slick as glass. Light cascaded from above. He looked up and discovered he stood at the bottom of a thirty-foot pit.

High overhead, a crystal chandelier shimmered, hanging from what appeared to be a domed ceiling. Jim's gaze narrowed as he calculated whether he could—

Bodies plunged toward him.

With a startled growl, he leaped aside as the six Dire Wolves landed lightly on the stone floor.

Reynolds grinned. “Ready to die?” Claws clicked on the marble as they moved toward him in a feral, menacing slink.

Jim looked from him to the ring of vampires standing around the edge of the pit. “Who the fuck do I look like, Russell Crowe?”

With a roar, the werewolves charged.

 

The plantation house
stood in the midst of a rolling two-acre manicured lawn, a towering, elegant structure with Doric columns and a broad, wraparound porch. The only discordant note was the red and yellow stained glass in the windows. Lit from within, the plantation reminded Faith of
The Amityville Horror
more than
Gone with the Wind
.

As if to confirm that negative impression, male shouts and laughter rolled across the lawn. Celestine's merry band was having far too good a time, which didn't bode well for Jim.

Was she too late? The thought made her sick.

Faith studied the house with burning eyes. So many police cars were parked on the lawn, it looked like a cop convention. Somebody had even brought one of the department's motorcycles.

She had to get to him, but she couldn't afford to just charge in like Bruce Willis. There'd be guards armed with TASERs, werewolves, vampires, and…

Jim in there getting his heart cut out.

Fuck it.

Running fast and low, she darted out of the woods, senses alert for any hint of human, vampire, or Dire Wolf. Moving in a rapid slink, she headed for one of the police cars and crouched behind its cover, nose flared, ears pricked.

Nothing.

Bursting through the front door seemed the height of stupidity. She needed a distraction, something that would draw at least a couple of the bad guys away from Jim.

Her gaze fell on the motorcycle. It was a hefty beast, one of those BMW had donated to local departments when the German manufacturer had taken up residence in nearby Greer.

She walked over to it and laid a clawed hand across its seat. Slowly, she rocked the cycle back and forth, testing the weight. It felt surprisingly light in her Dire Wolf form. Grabbing it by the handle bars and seat, Faith straightened, whirled, and hurled it like a discus.

The cycle spun through the air and landed on a group of parked Crown Vics with a crash.

Then she ran like hell.

 

Even over the
snarls from the pit, Celestine heard the metallic crash. She turned, irritated. “What the fuck was that?”

The vampires around her shrugged, more interested in the bloodshed going on below. “You,” she snapped, pointing at three of them at random. “Go check out that racket.”

 

Faith found a
long, low building attached to the rear of the house—probably a kitchen, if she knew her antebellum architecture. The lock on its screen door was hardly a match for Faith's Direkind strength. Twisting the knob off, she threw it away and slipped onto the porch.

A male voice shouted in pain. She hunkered down, heart pounding, then crossed the porch to the kitchen door beyond it. Another twist and shove forced it open. Faith stepped inside.

Breath held, she scanned the kitchen warily, spotting an industrial stove, a freezer, and…

The nude, gutted body of a man lying on the table.

Faith's heart stopped. A moaning whine of agony escaped her as she took one long stride to reach the corpse. The world spun around her, and she thought for a second she was going to faint for the first time in her life. She looked down, tasting brass and blood.

It wasn't Jim.

Her legs gave out, and she fell into a chair. Burying her face in her hands, she let her shoulders shake just once.

She should have realized it wasn't Jim. The victim was too skinny and short, and the sticky sweet scent of alcohol lay under the reek of blood and spilled intestines.

No time for this. I've got to save Jim.

Faith stood up and started for the door that lay across the darkened kitchen. If she didn't get moving, the next corpse really would be his.

And that wasn't going to happen, if Faith had to gut every vampire and rogue she could get her claws on.

 

Jim backed away,
watching the rogues' confident pursuit. He couldn't afford to let them surround him.

To his left, he saw the blond wolf's attention shift toward Reynolds. That was all he needed. He lunged, delivering an open handed swat with claws bared, right across the man's muzzle. The rogue staggered back with a startled yelp.

Jim pivoted and kicked a clawed foot into the belly of the red-haired one standing beside the blonde. The kick landed, but the rogue raked his calf. He ignored the pain, spinning to avoid a grizzled were whose salt-and-pepper coat reminded him of Ayers. Claws tore his shoulder, and he spun to rake the owner's belly.

Above him, voices shouted in approval and blood lust. He threw a quick look upward.

The vampires stared down at him, avid hunger on their faces. It occurred to him that they didn't really care who bled, as long as somebody did.

“Fucker!” Reynolds roared, the instant before the Dire Wolf plowed into him like an offensive lineman sacking a quarterback. Jim went down with a
whoof
. The rogue drew back a hand.

Jim swung out, trying to block, but he was too slow. Claws punched into his belly with an explosion of pain. He kicked up and over anyway, rolling onto his shoulders to send the werewolf flying. Another rogue leaped for him, so he slashed his claws across his attacker's eyes. Blinded, the rogue stumbled, giving Jim a chance to scramble to his feet.

He curled an arm across his belly. Blood poured over his forearm with a rhythmic arterial pulse. Something red bulged through the crimson flow.

Fuck. That was a wound he couldn't ignore. He called the magic and transformed into wolf form. The Change was barely complete when he looked up to see a clawed fist coming right at his head.

Jim ducked. The wind of the swipe ruffled his fur as he leaped away. The rogue roared and shot after him.

He ran, tucking his tail tight, conscious of the blond-furred wolf that was gaining on him. Wait for it, wait…He called the magic.

It poured through him. Veteran of a thousand transformations, he didn't let the pain stop him, instead whirling to grab the rogue as the man reached for him. He let their momentum spin them around, and flung the rogue into the pit wall with all his strength. The man's head hit with a crunch. Blood splattered.
Well,
Jim thought, with vicious satisfaction,
he won't be getting back up.

Fangs clamped into his shoulder. He roared as muscle tore in an explosion of agony. As Jim turned to batter at his attacker, another set of jaws clamped into the back of his neck. He felt himself being forced down on the ground.

 

Faith ran down
the hallway toward the sound of screams and shouts. She thought one of those inhumanly deep voices was Jim's. Fear choked her, metallic with the taste of panic. If he died, there was really no point in…

“And where the hell do you think you're going?” Three uniformed cops stepped into her path, their eyes bright with vicious excitement.

One of them bared his teeth, obviously pissed. “You wrecked my cycle, you little bitch!”

“And you spat on your badge,” Faith snarled back.

With a roaring chorus of fury, they charged.

Ingrained cop instinct cried out against what she was about to do. She ignored it and hit the lead vamp with every erg of her strength.

Her fist smashed into his head and his feet flew out from under him. His body crashed to the ground at her feet. She didn't look at what was left of his face. She didn't have to. She could feel the gore on her fist.

Faith didn't let it stop her as she pivoted to rake the second vamp across the chest with her talons. The third threw a roundhouse, and she ducked.

The second one, cursing in pain, drew his weapon. Faith flinched back, throwing up an arm as he fired. She felt the hot pain in her side and knew she'd been hit.

But she didn't go down.

Instead, she slapped out with one long arm and sent the gun flying. Snatching the vamp that had held it, she smashed him into the wall so hard plaster shattered, then heaved him into his partner. Both went down.

Faith didn't stop to finish them off. Jim didn't have that much time. Instead she leaped over their stunned bodies and flew down the corridor.

The hallway opened out into a ballroom, marbled in gleaming black and white tiles. A gang of uniformed vampires stood in a circle in the middle of the towering room, looking down and shouting like men at a football game.

Faith raced toward them…

Boom! The floor shook under her feet as something hot singed her fur. She ducked and spun.

Celestine stood just behind her, wearing a pissed-off expression and a great deal of leather, magic blazing around her hands. “I knew it was you when I heard that crash,” the vampire witch growled. “You just don't have the sense to stay away.” She hurled another energy blast. Faith ducked, and the spell splashed harmlessly against the column behind her.

From the center of the vampire's huddle, she heard a man bellow in pain and rage.

Jim!

Without hesitating, Faith flung herself straight into the gang of men. They saw her massive furred form flying toward them and dodged with startled shouts. She soared right past them—and into empty air.

With a startled yelp, she plunged into the pit.