Chapter Ten
This guy wasn’t human. Even with his senses dampened, Darren caught the scent of clover the…whatever Forester was…put off. There was cool air coming out of his mouth and Darren distinctly heard the beating of three hearts in Forester’s chest.
How different was Darren’s body now? Had his internal organs morphed without him even knowing it?
“We’ve been looking for you for a very long time.” Forester was still focused on Jack. “The look of surprise on your face is priceless. I’ll remember it for eons to come.”
“You’re not going to last that long, elf.” Jack pulled back the hammer of his gun.
Forester shook his head. “If you fire, I’ll blink away before the bullets hit me. They will, however, hit my friend behind me.”
The only people behind him were Darren and Miranda—and Darren was blocking her body entirely. Was Forester talking about Darren? Because they were not friends.
Although, something about the guy was familiar. The way he stood. The cut of his hair…
Forester went on. “Of course, we know how temperamental his kind can be. I’m guessing the little thing standing next to him is your side-kick. You hero-types do love to have side-kicks. A pity you didn’t train this one better. Standing within arm’s reach of a werewolf is outright stupidity. Although, it promises to be highly entertaining when he turns and rips her apart.”
If he thought Darren was on his side, Forester was in for a rude awakening. Maybe that was what Jack meant about taking him by surprise.
“You’d make an excellent tribute next cycle,” Forester said. “But I doubt you’ll last long enough. There are too many among us who simply wish to see you dead.” Forester turned and smiled at Darren. “May I count you among them, brother?”
“I’m an only child,” Darren said.
Forester cocked his head to the side for a moment. “A rogue? I’m surprised there isn’t blood on the walls already. I’m glad you saved some fun for me.”
“That coin led you to me,” Jack said. “It’s your beacon.”
Forester pressed a hand to his chest. “Your grasp of the obvious astounds me.”
“What I don’t get is why it was in a werewolf’s guts,” Jack said. “That seems mean, even for a little prick like you.”
Forester laughed. “Didn’t he mention? Niall follows Antares. He’s one of the Knights. A traitor—but a useful one.”
Niall… Darren had a name for the man who had turned him, thrown his life into chaos. It made everything more real somehow.
Niall had been a person, just like Darren. He’d been bitten. Darren wondered what the circumstances were and if Niall fought the change as hard as Darren was fighting it.
“I see my coin,” Forester said, “but not the courier.”
Courier…
The pieces fell into place. The footage had been grainy, but this was the same man Darren had seen outside of the electronics store. This was the thief who had stolen the coins and destroyed Darren’s career.
It seemed like such a small matter, with everything else going on. Still, his vision started to go red. Darren clenched his hands into fists, nails piercing his palms. He caught the scent of his own blood blossoming, heard the patter of drops as it hit the floor.
Blood. He needed more blood on his hands. Forester’s blood.
Darren had thought Forester’s sudden disappearance in the footage was a software glitch. After this guy popping into the room, he realized it wasn’t. Apparently, elves could teleport.
Darren couldn’t underestimate this opponent. And he had to stay in control.
“Who did you hire to help you steal the coins from Ford Security?” Subtlety was beyond him. All of Darren’s willpower was being spent not tearing into the guy.
“Hire?” Forester’s lip curled up in disgust. “I didn’t hire anyone. I made a deal.”
“I saw what you did to Scott.” Darren’s voice was lower than normal. “I know you were working with Morrison.”
Forester let out a sudden laugh, the sound like discordant wind chimes. “You were the dark-haired human. The one who had to be distracted.”
Dammit, it really had been a setup all along. One that had nearly cost Miranda her life.
“Who told you to wait for me to leave?” Darren’s shoulders bunched up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t relax them. “Who arranged the accident?”
“The accident,” Miranda said. “Wait, my accident?”
Darren couldn’t answer. His focus existed solely with the elf.
Forester cocked his head to the side again in that birdlike fashion. “Why do you even care?”
“Because they got me fired, turned into a werewolf, and they very nearly killed Miranda.” Each word became more guttural, until Darren had to force out the last.
Forester’s eyes widened and his smile grew broader. He looked absolutely delighted.
“How wicked!” he said. “I underestimated her.”
Her?
Shit. Darren was past sure now. Mrs. Ford was behind it all. Scott was going to go ballistic.
Darren was going to rip her throat out with his teeth.
“I see you’ve found the answers you sought,” Forester said. “How about you help me with mine? The werewolf who bit you. Where is he?”
“You’re too late.” The words grated against the back of Darren’s throat. “He’s already dead.”
“That’s a problem.” Forester glanced at the table. “We’ll figure something out, though.”
“There is no ‘we’,” Darren growled. He’d never felt his shoulder blades actually press against each other. His arms felt longer, too.
“Oh, don’t be that way.” Forester smiled and came a few steps closer.
The idiot was almost in Darren’s reach. Darren wondered which was faster—the elf’s teleporting ability, or Darren’s werewolf reflexes.
“Let me guess,” Forester said. “The intrepid ‘Jack’ and his lovely assistant rescued you from the beast, but not before you were bitten. Now, they’re trying to convince you that you’re cursed. A monster. Does that sound about right?”
Darren felt a muscle in his jaw start to twitch. Forester’s three hearts glowed brightly—one in the center of his chest and two on his sides. Darren could see the veins and arteries connecting them, hear the whoosh of blood circulating in Forester’s body.
Whatever this guy was, he was close enough to human for Darren to kill. He’d knock Forester to the floor and step on his chest, then rip out his side-hearts before stepping harder. Till he popped.
Darren imagined the floor covered in blood. He wondered what color it would be—and smiled.
Forester smiled back. “Relax, dear friend. You aren’t alone anymore. I know how your kind hates that. Let me teach you about your gifts. Your strength, speed, and heightened senses.”
Darren would accept Forester’s help—as he practiced using all those skills to rip the guy’s head off. He needed to get closer to make sure he could catch Forester before he teleported away.
“Humans have such narrow perceptions,” Forester said. “You’ve moved beyond them now. In a few hundred years, you won’t even remember what it was like to be one of them.”
Miranda stepped forward, putting her closer to Forester. Too close.
“A few hundred years?” she said. “Is Darren immortal now?”
“And suddenly I have your interest.” Forester’s mouth pulled in what should have been a smile, except for the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Why don’t we make a deal?”
Miranda shook her head. “I know better than to make a deal with a fairy.”
“You could at least hear me out,” Forester said. “Darren will change and bite you—under my supervision so he doesn’t get carried away—and you can stay young and…” he sort of grimaced, “‘beautiful’ forever.”
Darren growled. He couldn’t stop himself. There was no way he was biting Miranda. No way he was turning her into this.
Instead, I’ll watch her grow old and die.
His skin started to crawl. He couldn’t lose her. But he couldn’t have her either. She had felt like…home. Like a connection, when Darren was floating in a sea of chaos. There had been moments when it was the only thing holding him together. And he was going to lose her.
Unless he changed her. And Forester could help.
No.
The air whistled past Darren’s ears as he launched himself at Forester, arms extended to grapple him. Their chests collided and Darren grabbed the back of Forester’s coat to hold him in place. He went in for the kill, but his teeth clacked together where Forester’s neck had just been.
Darren stumbled forward, holding nothing but tattered pieces of Forester’s coat in his…claws.
He didn’t recognize his hands. His skin was dark gray, his fingers distended, with sharp points sprouting from their tips.
A series of loud staccato pops hit his ears. He looked at the source of the sound. Outlined in red, Darren could make out Jack, holding up his gun.
Bright bursts of light nearly blinded Darren as he watched Jack fire round after round at nothing. He was keeping his back to the wall, firing directly in front of him and to the side away from Miranda—keeping her safe.
Forester appeared next to Jack, on the side closest to Miranda. He must have predicted the safe zone.
The moment Forester appeared, he backhanded Jack viciously. Jack was lifted into the air and hit the wall hard, then landed on the counter below it and rolled to the floor.
Forester grinned at Darren, then vanished again.
The fairy reappeared standing on a counter near the swords. He grabbed one from the wall—one that gleamed silver even through the red clouding Darren’s vision. Then he vanished again.
Shit.
Miranda was still in the room. Where was she?
Darren turned, a sound coming out of him that was more roar than growl. The red haze rippled on his left just before Forester reappeared at Darren’s side. Darren was able to leap out of the way a fraction of a second before the silver blade would have reached him.
Forester kept swinging, his face pulled in a broad smile. He was laughing while he tried to cut Darren to pieces.
The speed Forester had mentioned was kicking in, but Darren didn’t know how to control it. He jumped and hit his head on the ceiling, the wood paneling cracking from the impact.
Forester was too busy laughing to deliver a killing blow. His laughter ended abruptly as Miranda swung her skillet at him.
He caught her arm before it could connect. “You humans and your iron. You think you can best me when a werewolf can’t? Ridiculous mortals.”
Miranda let out a yelp of pain and dropped the skillet as Forester shook her arm. Rage burned through Darren’s guts, through his muscles, soaking into his bones. He grabbed Forester’s shoulder before he could even think and felt sinew tear beneath his grip.
Forester grunted and let go of Miranda. Darren lifted Forester into the air and slammed him onto the table, then grabbed his throat and started to squeeze. His huge elf-eyes bugged out of his head.
As he clawed at the table, his hand touched the gun Jack had loaded for Darren—the one with the silver bullets. Forester knocked it to the floor. He kept flailing, then suddenly slapped his hand onto the back of Darren’s.
Pain arced through Darren, his skin burning. He let out a yowl and leapt back, shaking his hand. Forester vanished. The coin he’d been holding against Darren’s hand fell to the ground.
Darren was going to kill Forester. Find him and kill him. For using silver. For touching Miranda.
Miranda…
Darren wheeled around, looking for her. He had to be sure she was safe. She was standing behind him. The gun Forester had knocked from the table was at her feet.
Had he changed? Was she facing the monster Darren had first seen in that dark grocery store?
She stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open.
Yeah. Probably so.
She ducked down and picked up the gun, pointing it at him as she rose.
She had defended him, offered to help him. Whatever he had turned into was bad enough that she was going to put him down. Part of him wanted to let her.
Part of him wanted to rip out her throat.
He forced himself to stay still. He didn’t let himself close his eyes. He wanted her to see that he was sorry while he was still able to feel remorse. His teeth felt strange, and he didn’t think he could manage words that wouldn’t frighten her.
Except she didn’t look frightened anymore. She stared at him calmly, then lifted her hand and made a motion like she wanted him to sit.
If she thought she could treat him like a dog just because—
“Darren.” Her voice was level. She lifted her fingers, her lips forming words, numbers, as she matched them with her gestures.
3…2…
He waited a beat after ‘1’, then ducked. She opened fire.
He heard Forester scream, heard the bullets hit flesh, smelled the bright scent of fresh-cut clover. And then Forester was gone. Darren could sense it.
Miranda had saved him.
The relief that crashed through him left him light-headed. She still believed in him. At least for now.
Miranda dropped her gun and turned away. She was heading toward Jack. To Jack.
She didn’t belong with him. She belonged with Darren.
He gripped the table and flung it out of his way. It crashed against the wall, the heavy wood splintering from the impact.
Gratifying.
Darren picked up two of the chairs and threw them against the wall, delighting in the way they practically disintegrated. There were only five more chairs to destroy, but then there was the building.
He could sense his power, just beyond his periphery—sense a strength he hadn’t fully embraced. All he had to do was let go. The thickness he’d felt in the air earlier had all but vanished the more he had let the change sink into his bones.
“Darren.”
He managed to hear the small voice over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. He could hear the heartbeat that went with it. Two heartbeats. Humans.
Wasn’t he human too?
Not anymore.
He picked up another chair and threw it after the others. It wasn’t as satisfying. He needed more. Something softer. With blood…
“Darren.”
The voice intruded on his thoughts again. It wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Please fight this. I know you can fight it. I know you’ll win.”
Miranda. She was still in the room—watching Darren toss furniture around like a child throwing a tantrum.
What am I doing?
He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself. Another voice cut in. Harsher, irritating. Male.
“He’s too far gone. Shoot him before he turns completely. Shoot him or we’re both dead.”
Darren felt a growl build in his chest, rumbling out through teeth that still felt strange in his head. Miranda’s scent flowed around him. He felt her stand right in front of him. She probably didn’t want to miss.
“Touch me,” she said.
How could he without slashing her skin? Without breaking her bones? He opened his eyes and saw that her hands were empty and open at her sides.
“It’s going to be okay.” She spoke with such conviction… And she backed up her words with action. She pressed her cool hands to his cheeks, making soft, soothing noises.
He could smell her fear, sickly sweet, but there was another scent woven through it. Like the first breath of spring after a long winter.
Faith.
“It’s going to be okay,” she repeated.
He couldn’t help but believe her.